struction, with hundreds of millions of our wealth locked up in ships, forts, and arsenals, and thousands of men withdrawn from the peaceful pursuits to man these instruments of death, and become a burden on the back of labor, or supremacy in industry, in trade, in science, in art, in literature, and in education, with health, wealth, and happiness for all our people; and, because we have charity for all and malice toward none, enjoying the good-will and friendship of all the world? For which should we strive as a nation, to evoke the fear of the weaker nations by the strength of our armaments (and their hatred also, for hate is the child of fear), or to deserve and compel their respect and admiration by fair dealing, justice, modesty, moderation, courtesy, and charity, and by our sincerity in upholding the principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity?

Instinctive patriotism is thrilled by glowing descriptions of America as mighty in battle, or as Mistress of the Seas with hundreds of battleships, those grim leviathans of the deep, plowing the waves of every sea and proudly tossing from their iron manes the ocean foam; or resting unwelcome, it may be, because unbidden, guests in the ports of foreign lands; each bearing witness that in this nation of ours, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal, there is a disposition to forsake the principles of the fathers in a lust for power, and to follow in the wake of Babylon and Nineveh, Greece, Rome and Spain, the nations whose bloody history reveals to him who will but read that the nation that relies upon force must finally become the victim of force. For it is written, "They that take the sword shall perish by the sword."

Intelligent patriotism, on the other hand, is inspired by the ideal of America as a republic supremely powerful by the force of an enlightened public opinion, and supremely glorious on account of her successful pursuit of the arts of peace, and because of her acknowledged leadership in all that liberates and lifts. The prophet of old declared that there shall come a time when swords shall be beaten into plowshares and spears into pruninghooks, and men shall learn war no more; and that the earth shall

be full of knowledge as the waters cover the sea. When these prophecies are to be fulfilled no one can know—

"Ah, when shall all men's good be each man's rule,

And universal peace lie like a shaft of light across mankind; Or like a lane of beams athwart the sea

Thru all the circle of the golden year?"

But these prophecies imply a period of continuous peace and general education involving the diffusion of patriotic knowledge. Who can estimate what this will mean to the advancement of the people? It is not given unto men to foretell what this nation is to become; it doth not yet appear what we shall be; but of this we may be sure, that with continuous peace, universal education, and intelligent patriotism, eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither has it entered into the imagination of man to conceive the glorious possibilities of the American Republic.

MESSAGE OF THE FLAG

FRANKLIN KNIGHT LANE

[Franklin Knight Lane (1864- -) was born in Canada, but in early childhood removed to California. He studied at the University of California, engaged in newspaper work, studying law later and entering into practice in San Francisco. For eight years he was a member of the Interstate Commerce Commission at Washington. This position he relinquished in 1913 to become secretary of the interior. In his speeches and writings he is always forcible and inspiring. The brief address here given, delivered before the employees of the Department of the Interior on Flag Day, 1914, deserves a place among the classics of patriotism. With imagination and insight, with grace and charm, it interprets what the American flag ought to mean to all who live under it.]

This morning, as I passed into the Land Office, The Flag dropped me a most cordial salutation, and from its rippling folds I heard it say: "Good morning, Mr. Flag Maker."

"I beg your pardon, Old Glory," I said, "aren't you mistaken? I am not the President of the United States, nor a

member of Congress, nor even a general in the army. I am only a Government clerk."

"I greet you again, Mr. Flag Maker," replied the gay voice, "I know you well. You are the man who worked in the swelter of yesterday straightening out the tangle of that farmer's homestead in Idaho, or perhaps you found the mistake in that Indian contract in Oklahoma, or helped to clear that patent for the hopeful inventor in New York, or pushed the opening of that new ditch in Colorado, or made that mine in Illinois more safe, or brought relief to the old soldier in Wyoming. No matter; whichever one of these beneficent individuals you may happen to be, I give you greeting, Mr. Flag Maker."

I was about to pass on, when The Flag stopped me with these words:

"Yesterday the President spoke a word that made happier the future of ten million peons in Mexico; but that act looms no larger on the flag than the struggle which the boy in Georgia is making to win the Corn Club prize this summer.

"Yesterday the Congress spoke a word which will open the door of Alaska; but a mother in Michigan worked from sunrise until far into the night to give her boy an education. She, too, is making the flag.

"Yesterday we made a new law to prevent financial panics, and yesterday, maybe, a school-teacher in Ohio taught his first letters to a boy who will one day write a song that will give cheer to the millions of our race. We are all making the flag." "But," I said impatiently, "these people were only work

ing!"

Then came a great shout from The Flag: "The work that we do is the making of the flag. I am not the flag; not at all. I am but its shadow.

"I am whatever you make me, nothing more.

"I am your belief in yourself, your dream of what a People may become.

"I live a changing life, a life of moods and passions, of heartbreaks and tired muscles.

"Sometimes I am strong with pride, when men do an honest

work, fitting the rails together truly. Sometimes I droop, for then purpose has gone from me, and cynically I play the coward. Sometimes I am loud, garish, and full of that ego that blasts judgment.

"But always I am all that you hope to be and have the courage to try for.

"I am song and fear, struggle and panic, and ennobling hope.

"I am the day's work of the weakest man and the largest dream of the most daring.

"I am the Constitution and the courts, statutes and the statute makers, soldier and dreadnaught, drayman and street sweep, cook, counselor, and clerk.

"I am the battle of yesterday and the mistake of tomorrow. "I am the mystery of the men who do without knowing why. "I am the clutch of an idea and the reasoned purpose of resolution.

"I am no more than what you believe me to be, and I am all that you believe I can be.

"I am what you make me, nothing more.

"I swing before your eyes as a bright gleam of color, a symbol of yourself, the pictured suggestion of that big thing which makes this nation. My stars and my stripes are your dream and your labors. They are bright with cheer, brilliant with courage, firm with faith, because you have made them so out of your hearts. For you are the makers of the flag, and it is well that you glory in the making."

GOOD CITIZENSHIP1

HENRY CABOT LODGE

[Henry Cabot Lodge (1850- was born in Boston, Massachusetts. He was graduated from Harvard and was for a time lecturer in history in that institution. For three years he was editor of the North American Review. Since 1886 he has served continuously in Washington as either representative or senator from Massachusetts. In spite of the exactions of public life, he has found time to write several brilliant volumes on historical and biographical subjects, the most notable perhaps being his Life of Washington.]

Assuming at the outset that in the United States all men, young and old, who think at all realize the importance of good citizenship, the first step toward its attainment or its diffusion is to define it accurately; and then, knowing what it is, we shall be able intelligently to consider the best methods of creating it and spreading it abroad. In this case the point of discussion and determination lies in the first word of the title. There is no difficulty in the second. The accident of birth or the certificate of a court will make a man a citizen of the republic, entitled to take part in the government and to have the protection of that government wherever he may be. The qualifying adjective applied to citizenship is the important thing here; for, while the mere word "citizen" settles at once a man's legal status, both under domestic and international law, and implies certain rights on his part, and certain responsibilities on the part of his government toward him, we must go much further if we would define his duties to the state upon the performance of which depends his right to be called either good or worthy. Merely to live without actually breaking the laws does not constitute good citizenship, except in the narrow sense of contrast to those who openly or covertly violate the laws which they have helped to make. The word "good," as applied to citizenship, means something more positive and affirmative than mere passive obedience to statutes, if it has any meaning at all. The good citizen, if he

1From A Frontier Town and Other Essays. (Copyright, 1906, Charles Scribner's Sons.) Reprinted by permission.