mas, from his point of vantage, could see the whole company
following his lead, and his heart swelled with pride. Under the arch
the procession swept, stepping to the music, the significance of which
most of the company did not even guess at--good-natured, neighborly,
filled with the spirit of the West, that ever seeks to help along.

Everyone, even Father O'Flynn, was happier than James Shewfelt, the
drummer.

The fifer paused, preparatory to changing the tune. It was the
drummer's opportunity. "Onward, Christian Soldiers," he sang, tapping
the rhythm on the drum. The fifer caught the strain. Not a voice was
silent, and unconsciously hand clasped hand, and the soft afternoon air
reverberated with the swelling cadence:

"We are not divided,
All one body we."

When the verse was done the fifer led off into another and another. The
little priest's face glowed with pleasure. "It is the Spirit of the
Lord," he whispered to himself, as he marched to the rhythm, his hand
closely held by the smallest Breeze boy, whose yellow streamers and
profuse decoration of orange lilies were at strange variance with his
companion's priestly robes. But on this day nothing was at variance.
The spirit of the West was upon them, unifying, mellowing, harmonizing
all conflicting emotions--the spirit of the West that calls on men
everywhere to be brothers and lend a hand.

The Church of England minister did make a speech, but not the one he
had intended. Instead of denominationalism, he spoke of brotherhood;
instead of religious intolerance, he spoke of religious liberty;
instead of the Prince of Orange, who crossed the Boyne to give
religious freedom to Ireland, he told of the Prince of Peace, who died
on the cross to save the souls of men of every nation and kindred and
tribe.

In the hush that followed Father O'Flynn stepped forward and said he
thanked the brother who had planned this meeting; he was glad, he said,
for such an opportunity for friends and neighbors to meet; he spoke of
the glorious heritage that all had in this great new country, and how
all must stand together as brothers. All prejudices of race and creed
and doctrine die before the wonderful power of loving service. "The
West," he said, "is the home of loving hearts and neighborly kindness,
where all men's good is each man's care. For myself," he went on, "I
have but one wish, and that is to be the servant of all, to be the
ambassador of Him who went about doing good,