people is large enough to support one business of blocking hats. Since they lived in the neat coachman's house in the rear of Miss Grace's premises, the father considered themselves "comfortably fixed" with this fairly definite breadand-butter arrangement of life.

Miss Grace had helped Little Athens in speaking English. She found him so well prepared in arithmetic, geography, and history that he was equal to those of the upper grammar grades. In history he was happiest, for to him this subject was a fascinating story of the people who lived in neighborhoods, one to another, all around the earth. When his turn came to recite in Greek mythology or history his English flowed easily, as he told of this great hero or that, of the time when their conquests were mighty in the earth.

Here was a chance to help Little Athens overcome timidity about his broken English! The teacher assigned as his work for the next lesson to tell the class something of Greece. "Of the Old Greece, Miss Ward?" "Of the Greece you care most for. Tell us the best thing you know of your country." Little Athens fairly beamed!

After school each day he was busy caring for the lawn and running errands for Miss Grace and her mother. Then, for one happy hour before bedtime, with their little prints and few books the father and son took wonderful trips through poetry, pictures, and stories, back to old Athens. To-night the father began in the pure Greek they always used together: "Son, I have wished as you grew older to tell you a message from your country. I have waited until you can appreciate it." They talked together long. After he had gone to bed Little Athens repeated to himself the message which had come to him from his country.

The next day Miss Ward called for his assignment in history. The boy arose before his class.

"Boys and girls, I thought yesterday of how happy I would be to-day, for I could tell you of some great warrior or grand conquest in the old land of my birth. Whenever I do, I think I help us forget I am a Greek immigrant and that you are all trying to help me. I think you may admire in the greatness of my country of the past some of the power of war which you like so much in your American heroes. I think I can help us forget I am 'Little Athens' and came over steerage, and help us think I am just another boy whose country was once grand and powerful too. But Miss Ward asked for the best I knew from Greece, so I give you this message of which I am growing more proud every hour.

"In Athens long ago boys were taught, when they became my age, a pledge. They said it each day, believed in and tried to live by the vow. Fathers taught their sons, who, growing up, gave it in turn to their own boys. Each helped make the pledge true until Athens became 'Athens, the Beautiful.'

"Pledge of the Athenian Youths

"We will never bring disgrace to this our city, by any act of dishonesty or cowardice, nor ever desert our comrades; we will fight for the ideals and sacred things of the city, both alone and with many; we will revere and obey the city laws and do our best to incite a like respect and reverence in others; we will strive unceasingly to quicken the public's sense of civic duty; that thus, in all these ways, we may transmit this city, greater, better, and more beautiful than it was transmitted to us.'

"I am away from Greece. My country of father's books and stories does not live to-day. But I wish to do the best my land has taught her sons. You are my friends, this my state and here is my own city. So every day like a Greek youth true to his own Athens, I will say this pledge for Junc

tion City." With head high he began — “I will never bring disgrace to this our city by any act of dishonesty or cowardice," — slowly and clearly he continued, closing - "And I, Little Athens, may help 'to transmit this city, greater, better, more beautiful than it was transmitted to us.' Miss Ward, this is the best I have learned from Greece."

The children sat silent a minute. Miss Ward was not thinking of their charge's English. One of the boys began - "Oh, Miss Ward, may he teach it to us?" A girl continued, "And it's for girls, too, is n't it?" With Little Athens' dictation it was written on the board. Now, the pupils of this school had an organization with duly elected officers. They were installed that week, and the president's address, much to the surprise of the Greek lad, told of the Athenian pledge. A motion was carried that it be taken for their motto.

After school two of the biggest boys caught Little Athens, put him on the shoulders of a crowd, and they carried him down the street. "Nine 'Rahs for Little Athens" rent the air. Surely the little Greek heathen was at home in their yes, in his city.

Anna Doan Stephens

COMMODORE DEWEY, THE HERO OF MANILA

FAR across the Pacific Ocean in the harbor of Hong Kong, there were, in the early spring of 1898, some half dozen warships of the United States Navy, known as the Asiatic Squadron.

This little fleet, protecting and caring for American interests in the Far East, was in command of Commodore George Dewey, a clear-headed man of keen judgment, possessing the same masterful spirit of the old war-time hero, Admiral Farragut, under whose training in 1862 he had

learned decision, appreciation of discipline, and skilled gunnery.

War with Spain was declared, and Commodore Dewey received instructions from the Navy Department to proceed at once to the Philippine Islands and commence operations against the Spanish fleet with orders to capture or destroy it. The intention of the Navy Department was to sweep the seas clear of Spanish warships.

On April 19, 1898, the color of the ships was changed from white to a fighting gray — a significant fact to the men on board, who knew that now real action was about to begin. Within a few days the American fleet left the harbor of Hong Kong for Mirs Bay, thirty miles distant, where Dewey would receive information from the United States Consul concerning the fortifications of Manila.

From Mirs Bay, on April 27, began a journey which must end in humiliation and defeat or in glorious victory. Commodore Dewey's flagship, the Olympia, led the way, followed by the Baltimore, the Raleigh, the Petrel, the Concord, and the Boston, with, in a parallel line, the McCulloch and two transports.

Three days later, at sunrise, the coast of Luzon, the largest of the Philippines, greeted the eyes of the crews, with its tropical colors and beauties. The Spanish fleet was reported to be in Subig Bay, near the entrance to Manila Bay, but the two warships sent on to reconnoiter failed to see any sign of the enemy there. So Dewey headed for Corregidor Island, lying directly in the entrance to Manila Bay.

This island, rising to a height of six hundred feet, was strongly fortified with big Krupp guns. Somewhere behind it lay the Spanish fleet which it was Dewey's mission to de stroy. Five miles across on the mainland was El Fraile, with its battery. Through the night Dewey had determined his

course. He had decided to "run the batteries" under cover of darkness.

The squadron was re-formed, and silently, led by the Olympia, the ships, in single file, proceeded on their way, until they were opposite Corregidor Island. All went well until a flame of fire shooting from the smokestack of the McCulloch betrayed the presence of our fleet. A rocket from the island gave the alarm, followed by the roar of a big gun from the battery of El Fraile. The Boston opened fire upon the battery and silenced the Spanish guns. Soon all the ships were in the bay and a deep silence brooded over the night. The fleet crept onward in strange waters, not knowing of the dangers with which they might be surrounded, and on the morning of the first day of May the outlines of the city of Manila were plainly seen.

On the opposite shore was the town of Cavite, protected with a fort. In its little bay lay the Spanish fleet, under command of Admiral Montojo. His ships outnumbered ours two to one.

At daybreak firing began from the fort at Cavite. With the Olympia leading, our ships advanced in a semi-circle. Commodore Dewey turned to Captain Gridley, of the Olympia, saying, "You may fire when you're ready, Gridley."

At that, our guns thundered forth. From each ship poured flames of death and destruction, shrouding the Spanish ships and forts in smoke. After the ships had passed they turned about through another half circle, presenting the other-side guns to the enemy. On the bridge of his flagship stood Commodore Dewey directing all movements, with no protection from shot and shell.

Admiral Montojo's flagship advanced to meet the Olympia. It was met with a two-hundred-fifty-pound shell which exploded her boiler, killing the captain and one hundred forty