Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, 1848-06-29
FOURTH OF JULY, 1875.
BY GEORGE LIrPARD.

Let me paint you picture on the canvass
Of the Past.
1t is cloudless summer dav. Yes, a
clear blue sky arches and smiles above a
quaint edi6ce, rising among giant tees, in
the centre of a wide city. That ediRce is
built of red brick, with heavy window frames
and massy hall door. The widespread
ing dome of ST. Peters, the snowy pillars
Of the Parlhenon, the gloomy glory of West
minister Abbey-none of these, nor any
thing like these are here, to elevate this edi-
fee Of plain red brick, into gorgeous mon
'ument of architecture.
Plain red brick the walls; the windows
partly framed in stone; the roof caves hea-
w with intricate carvings; the hall door
ornamented with pillars Of dark stone; such
is the State House Of Philadelphia, in this
year of our Lord, 1916.
Around this edihce stately trees arise
7 onder toward the dark walls Of Wanu,
street gaoI, spreads pleasant lawn, enclos-
ed by plain board fence. Above our heads
these trees lock their massy limbs and spread
their lealy canopy.
There are walks here, too, not fashioned
in squares and circles, but spreading in care
less negligence along the lawn. Benches
too, rude benches, on which repose the
forms of old men with grey hairs, and wo-
men with babes in their arms.
This is a beautiful day, and this plea
SAINT lawn: but why do those clusters of
citizens, with anxious faces, gather round
Tie Stale House walls There is the mer-
chant in his velvet garb and rutfied shirt
there the mechanic, with apron on his breast
and tools in his hands; there the bearded
sailor and the darkrobed ministerial group
ed together.
Why this anxiety on every face? This
gathering in lille groups all over the lawn
Yet hold moment! In Wonder wooden
steeple, which crowns the red brick State
House, stands an old man with white hair
and sunburnt face. He is clad in humble
attire, yet his eye CLEANS, as it is fixed mp
! on the ponderous outline of The bell, sus-
pended in the steeple there. The old man
tries to read the inscription on that bel, but
cannot. Ga, upon the waves, far away in
the forests; thus has his life been passed
He is no scholar, lie scarcely can spell one
! of those strange words carved on the sur
face of that bell.
By his side, gazing in his face-that sun
burnt lace-in wonder, stands haxen-har-
ed boy, with laughing eyes of summer blue
Some here, my boy, you are rich mans
child. You can read. Spell me those words
and I'll bless ye, my good child -
And the child raised itself on tip-toe and
pressed It's tiny hands against the bell, anc
read, in lisping tones, these memora ble
words:
"PRoCLAIM LIBERTY TO ALL THE LANE
AND ALL THE INHABITANTS THEREOF"
The old man ponders for a moment or
those strange words; then gathering the boy
in his arms, he speaks,
''LooIl here, my child? Wilt do the ole
man kindness? Then haste you down
stairs, and wait in the hall by the big door
until a man shall give you message Tor me
A man with a velvet dress and kind face
will come out from the big door, and give
YOU word for me. When he gives you
that word, then run out yonder in the street
and shout it up to me. DO you mind -
1t needed no second command. The boy
with blue ewes and faxen hair sprang from
the old bell-keeper's arms, and threaded his
way down the dark stairs.
The old bell-keeper was alone. Many
minutes passed. Leaning over the railing
ofthe s,eeple, his face toward Chestnut street
he looked anxiously for that lalr-haired boy
Moments passed, yet still he came not. The
crowds gathered more darkly along TIT