pain to many hearts. They thought of what must have been that murderous roar, in which so many of their ancestors had perished, while courageously defending their loved country from fierce and ignorant invaders, who would have brutalized them, and most surely would have mercilessly overthrown their rapidly advancing institutions. In thrilling verse they told them it was but a harmless echo from the past—echo, only, of a wild beast roar. An echo which would hound from age to age until it should become a most sweet music—the voices of dear ones fitting themselves for a higher, and always higher, hereafter. They said those beautiful fallen giants should be replaced by other and grander ones—giants of culture and truth!"
Enthusiasm has imparted additional light to this lustrous trio. But my eyes grow dim with tears as my spirit tires from an intense longing to be worthy of their bravely truthful age!
"After many weeks of unceasing work, the ground was cleared of all the magnificent growth, excepting a few fine cedars, purposely left for the birds, where they congregated, and, to those who understood them, made touching laments over their lost habitations. Excavations for foundations commenced, which required more than usual depth. For several days a quiet unassuming man had been observed carefully examining the earth thrown up by the machines. One morning he suddenly descended a trench, implored the men to stop the engines and send for the manager. Then he removed the crusher; and, kneeling, tore the soil away with his own hands, growing more earnest with each handful he removed, delightedly exclaiming, 'It is! It is!' When the manager arrived, he showed him some carved stone he had succeeded in uncovering, and rapidly wrote upon his