and that evening they were sung in
the Holliday Street Theatre. The next day the air was heard upon the
streets of Baltimore from every boy who had been gifted with a voice
or a whistle, and "The Star-Spangled Banner" was soon waving over the
musical domain as victoriously as it had floated from the ramparts of
Fort McHenry.

[Illustration: FRANCIS SCOTT KEY
At the age of 35]

It is in the great moments of life that a man gives himself to the
world, and in the giving parts from nothing of himself, for in the
gift he but expands his own nature and keeps himself in greater
measure than before. May not he to whom our great anthem came through
the battle-storm smile pityingly upon the futile efforts of to-day to
supply a national song that shall eclipse the noble lines born of
patriotism and battle ardor and christened in flame?

Thus it was that Francis Scott Key reached the high tide of life
before the defences of the Monumental City, and to Baltimore he
returned when that tide was ebbing away, and in view of the old fort,
under the battlements of which he had fallen to unfathomable depths of
suffering and risen to immeasurable heights of triumphant joy, he
crossed the bar into the higher tide beyond. On a beautiful hill
Baltimore has erected a stately monument to the memory of the man who
linked her name with the majestic anthem which gives fitting voice to
our national hopes.

Away on the other edge of our continent, in Golden Gate Park, San
Francisco, another noble shaft tells the world that "the Star-Spangled
Banner yet waves" over all our land and knows no distinctions of
North, South, East, or West.

In Olivet Cemetery, in the old historic city of Frederick, Maryland,
is the grave of Francis Scott Key. Over it stands a marble column
supporting a statue of Key, his poet face illumined by the art of the
sculptor, his arms outstretched, his left hand bearing a scroll
inscribed with the lines of "The Star-Spangled Banner," while on the
pedestal sits Liberty, holding the flag for which those immortal lines
were written.

Thus, perpetuated in granite, the noble patriot stands, looking over
the town to which he long ago gave this message:

But if ever, forgetful of her past and present glory, she shall
cease to be "the land of the free and the home of the brave," and
become the purchased possession of a company of stock-jobbers and
speculators; if her people are to become the vassals of a great