Lord of the Universe! shield us and guide us,
Trusting Thee always, through shadow and sun! 
Thou, hast united us:  who shall divide us? 
Keep us, O, keep us, the MANY IN ONE! 
Up with our banner bright,
Sprinkled with starry light,
Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
While through the sounding sky
Loud rings the Nation’s cry,—­
UNION AND LIBERTY!  ONE EVERMORE!

* * * * *

HOW TO ROUGH IT.

“Life has few things better than this,” said Dr. Johnson, on feeling himself settled in a coach, and rolling along the road.  We cannot agree with the great man.  Times have changed since the Doctor and Mr. Boswell travelled for pleasure; and we much prefer an expedition to Moosehead, or a tramp in the Adirondack, to being boxed up in a four-wheeled ark and made “comfortable,” according to the Doctor’s idea of felicity.

Francis Galton, Explorer, and Secretary to the Royal Geographical Society, we thank you sincerely for teaching us how to travel!  Few persons know the important secrets of how to walk, how to run, how to ride, how to cook, how to defend, how to ford rivers, how to make rafts, how to fish, how to hunt, in short, how to do the essential things that every traveller, soldier, sportsman, emigrant, and missionary should be conversant with.  The world is full of deserts, prairies, bushes, jungles, swamps, rivers, and oceans.  How to “get round” the dangers of the land and the sea in the best possible way, how to shift and contrive so as to come out all right, are secrets well worth knowing, and Mr. Galton has found the key.  In this brief article we shall frequently avail ourselves of the information he imparts, confident that in these war-days his wise directions are better than fine gold to a man who is obliged to rough it over the world, no matter where his feet may wander, his horse may travel, or his boat may sail.

Wherewithal shall a man be clothed?  We begin at the beginning with flannel always.  Experience has taught us that flannel next the skin is indispensable for health to a traveller, and the sick- and dead-lists always include largely the names of those who neglect this material.  Cotton stands Number Two on the list, and linen nowhere.  Only last summer jolly Tom Bowers got his quietus for the season by getting hot and wet and cold in one of his splendid Paris linen shirts, and now he wears calico ones whenever he wishes to “appear proper” at Nahant or Newport.

“The hotter the ground the thicker your socks,” was the advice of an old traveller who once went a thirty-days’ tramp at our side through the Alp country in summer.  We have seen many a city bumpkin start for a White-Mountain walk in the thinnest of cotton foot-coverings, but we never knew one to try them a second time.