tality, we are linked together in a kinship older than the mountains, and we are indissolubly one forever!

It is not to prolong but to end the reign of bloodshed that a league is demanded-not to send our boys to Europe but to keep them at home. If wars are ever to cease-if the Golden Age of Isaiah is ever to come-if the peace for which Timrod prayed is ever to be realized-if an unending truce to battle is ever sounded-America must do her part to the finish. I can find no other star of hope on the world's horizon. I can see no other bow of promise on the cloud. We must end this nightmare of suspense.

We must wipe out the crime of the Senate! We must regain for our beloved country the prestige which she has lost, through her Lodges, her Borahs, and her Hiram Johnsons. We want no stain upon our starry flag. Without nullifying reservations, we must ratify the Treaty of Versailles; and that, I believe, will be the platform of the great convention which is soon to meet in San Francisco. Then-for those who have butchered the League, there will be no city of refuge from the avenger of blood and no shelter on earth except in a Republican fold!

Away with the fetish of "America for Americans!" It belongs to a dead past. Be this our slogan: "America for humanity! The fatherhood of God implies the brotherhood of man. He who made us our brother's keeper, did not limit us to our own vine and fig tree, nor fix our boundaries at the water's edge. He made us the wardens of a world. Philo-kosmians

"Go, brand him with disgrace,

Whose thought is for himself alone,
And not for all his race."

Was it not to meet an hour like this that the Ark of Freedom was committed to our fathers? Who can sound the purposes of God? It may be for this that we have come to

the kingdom. It may be for this that Washington resisted a tyrant and that Columbus discovered a continent. We are not the misers of liberty, but its trustees and its stewards -not its proprietors, but its propagandists! Religion was given to the Hebrews, not to be squandered alone upon the seed of Abraham, but, in Pentecostal power, to be held in trust for all-for Jew and for Gentile, for bond and for free. The Nazarine did not die for one country alone-that country, a remote, a diminutive, a despised province of the Mediterranean-He died to emancipate a world from bondage. Nor did He die alone for His friends but for His enemies.

Be we true to our trust? That is the question which I leave with you tonight. Who knows but what America is on trial? Let us not keep back the leaven of liberty. It was "something withheld" that brought destruction to Ananias and to Achan. Let us beware how we substitute a part for a whole—a segment for a circle. It is a misconception of our role, in the great drama of time, to localize what belongs to humanity or to bury the king's treasure in a corner of the field. Liberty is the twin-sister of Religion. She, too, has her Calvary and her Cana, her Judas and her John; and she, too, even from her cross cries out: "And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto Me!" At the entrance to New York harbor, with an uplifted torch, stands Liberty enlightening the world. It is America's conscience on guard. There's a stewardship which we cannot deny, a responsibility which we cannot shirk. Israel lost the Ark of God; and America may lose the Ark of Freedom, if she fails to recognize her larger duty and to perform her mightier mission-"to make the world safe for Democracy."

"WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT?”

[Full text of an address delivered at the State Conference, D. A. R., at Dalton, Ga., April 6, 1921, by Dr. Lucian Lamar Knight, State Historian.]

Madame Regent, Daughters of the American Revolution, Ladies and Gentlemen:

In this splendid gathering, on this feast-day of historic memories, I salute the assembled hosts of an army of patriots. It did not take a world war, with its unparalleled carnage, to convince me that in the ranks of your organization and beneath the folds of your flag there was no comfort for a renegade and no room for a slacker. I knew the molds of ancestry in which you were cast and the character of metal out of which you were coined. For half a century, I have known the women of Georgia. Ever since, from a cradle in Dixieland, I first looked into the eyes of a mother, now sainted in heaven, I have been familiar with the gentlest chivalry, with the finest fortitude, and with the holiest love of country which an Anglo-Saxon civilization can exhibit. Not only on this day but on all days, and for three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, I rejoice within my heart and lay it as a flattering unction to my soul, that she who bore me was a Confederate soldier's bride, and a Daughter of the American Revolution.

It is good to be in Dalton. Here, on these heights, we can breathe the pure air of the mountains. Here, where a thousand tongues of fire bespeak the heroic associations of battle, we can hold communion with illustrious shades and plight anew our eternal allegiance to lofty and imperishable principles. Out there in the starlight stands the statue of a soldier whose maneuvers, from Dalton to Atlanta, have been the marvel of military critics, whose removal from command in 1864 was the fatal mistake of the Confederacy and who, except for Lee, was unmatched in all our Southern army

Joseph E. Johnston. On your busy streets, in your marts of trade, over all your splendid growth of sixty years, a New South is everywhere proclaimed;-but, over your door-posts and your lintels, around your firesides, and in your teeming hospitality, an Old South lingers still, like the spikenard of Bethany, to remind us of those finer things which we must not forget and to keep us in touch with those mighty days which produced a Stonewall Jackson and which knew a Robert E. Lee.

Watchman, what of the night? That is the question which is coming up to you from all over Georgia. In a sense, you are the keepers of the commonwealth, the watchmen upon the walls. Ever since time began we have dreamed of liberty in the guise of a woman, and, on the dome of our capitol, stands in effigy the fair guardian of our citadel. Georgia, therefore, is looking to you. We are groping about in the shadows, uncertain of what the morrow will bring forth. The Great War is over, but in its wake there is a feeling of unrest, of apprehension, of alarm. So the cry comes up-watchman what of the night? That question can best be answered by a reaffirmation of the great principles for which you stand. If these are clearly set forth they will round themselves into an answer like this: "All is well! The Daughters of the American Revolution are patrolling the ramparts. See what is written on yonder sky, in colors of dawn. That figure on horseback is Washington, and that field on which he looks is Yorktown, Virginia!"

But Yorktown, to you and to me, will be a dead letterdeader than the iota of the Greek alphabet-if it be not symbolic of other fields on which the laurels are waiting! We can and we must win, if, like the Continentals of 1776, we have in us the spirit which knows no surrender-which can tread the ice-floes of the Delaware-which can track with blood the snows of Valley Forge, and which, even to the summit, can breast the iron hail of King's Mountain