The Free lance. (State College, Pa.) 1887-1904, March 01, 1890, Image 11

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    The task of the patriot minister did not
end with the departure of the fleet of Count
DeEstaing. In fact, the management of the
complicated relations between the two
nations required such tact and delicate skill
as may well be said to have made it but be
gun.
It is not necessary to trace the events that
follow in detail. On September 14, 1778,
Franklin, who had always been the head and
brains of the foreign policy of the United
States, was appointed Sole Minister Plenipo
tentiary to the French Court, Thus was
ended the possibility of harm from the rancor
of jealous associates. In this position Frank
lin never met the situation he did not master,
mistook not in dealing with bigoted and
crafty Spain, successfully passed a time when
even France, despairing of bringing the war
to a successful conclusion, made overtures of
peace to England, and finally signed the
treaty of peace at Paris, January 20, 1782,
which. Bancroft says " was neither a compro
mise or a compact, but a free and perfect, a
perpetual settlement."
.When Benjamin Franklin, on September
14, 1786, stepped out upon the Market Street
wharf, Philadelphia—conscious as he' must
have been:of the difference between the plain
Quaker City and splendid Paris—as he was
welcomed home by a grateful people—whose
fame did he envy ? One is almost tempted
to forget the patriots, whose bruised, torn
anil bleeding feet stained the snow over
which they trod: They were worthy of him
and he of them, for the student of history
knows that that blood-stained snow could not
have accomplished American freedom un
aided by the labors of old Benjamin Frank
lin.
Dancing is a part of. the regular gymnasium
exercises at Wellesley.
THE FREE LANCE.
G. R. W., '93,
A TRIBUTE TO WASHINGTON
I. No people yet bath been so far debased
As not to have some hero's name deep traced
Upon their hearts. Perhaps' for good deed done,
Or else for some great victory he has won,
I3e his influence for good, or, but of might,
1-16 name will still survive oblivion's night.
'Tis inborn in the human heart to seek
The strong, the good, the great out from the weal
And place them at imagination's shrine—
Invest them with a nature near divine.
Mayhaps his deeds were great—yet means were I.
Wrong's darkness hidden by success' glow.
Yet while such memories live, tht. blush of shame
Will often rise and mar the hero's name.
Not so with him who in our hearts bath won
The place as bath our honored (Kish/neon.
2. Charmed by the tales of astrologic lore,
We gaze on history's firmament once more.
There seek we orbs—fixed as eternal laws.
We've seen effect—we now would know the CAUS
We see a star which once in Roman times
Shone bright, as cloth the sun in Southern climes,
A star whose brightness, for a world once shed,
Its armies drove, or else its Senates led.
lint now; we ask where bath this brightness gone
Where all the light, that once so gaily shone?
'We seek the record—soon we trace the cause--
"Ambition once perverted knows no laws."
3. Again we turn the galaxy to scan,
Again to read the life of some great man.
For, as 'twas written by an ancient race,
Each life its history in n star can trace,
And now we sec a star—distinct: 'not bright,
Shine coldly, out as cloth the orb of night.
A star whose brightness made all others dim---
Cast all the others into darkness grim---
A star whose very brightness seemed to awe
And from the mightest nations homage draw,
Alas! it was but seeming brightness lent—
But for the time, and then it soon was spent,
For eyes no longer dazzled by false light,
Views Cause---views motives of a misused Might
4. Ambition in its .worst unbridled form
Risked Egypt's heat---braved Russia's blasting stor
Remorseless power, the nation's plunder sought--
For one man's greed, all laws were held as naught
Slave to a passion---false Ambition's dupe,
An end attained—no means too low to stoop—
Through every land the mark of death and woe,
'Till last the star was dimmed at Waterloo.