“This is the day I love the best—­
The day the small boy knows no rest,—­
The day when all our banners soar,
The day when all our cannons roar,
The day when all are free from care,
And shouts and music fill the air!”

“Good for Songbird!” cried Sam.

“Go on, please!” came from the girls, and the poet of Putnam Hall continued: 

“I love this land of liberty
From mountains down to flowing sea,
I love its cities and its plains,
Its valleys and its rocky chains,
I’m glad to know that we are free,
And so forever may we be!”

“Hurrah, Songbird, you ought to have that put to music,” cried Dick.

“Maybe I will, some day,” answered the would-be poet modestly.

“I dink I make some boetry up, too,” remarked Hans, after several minutes of serious thought on his part.  “Chust you listen vonce!” And he began: 

“Dis is der day ven crackers bust
Und fill der air mid bowder tust,
Und ven you shoots your bistol off,
You make a smokes vot makes you cough. 
A rocket goes up in der sky—­
Der sthick vos hit you in der eye!”

“Three cheers for Hans!” shouted Tom, clapping the German lad on the back.  “For real, first class A, No. 1, first chop poetry that can’t be beat.”  And then as the others screamed with laughter Tom went on: 

“A little boy,
A can of powder,
A scratch, a flash—­
He’s gone to chowder!”

“Oh, Tom, what horrible poetry!” cried Nellie, as she shivered.

“Well, I couldn’t help it,” he said.  “I had to say something or—­or bust!  Perhaps this will suit you better,” and he continued: 

“A little boy,
A great big gun,
A father yelling
On the run. 
The trigger falls,
There is a roar. 
The father halts—­
The danger’s o’er.”

“Tom, you’re positively the worst boy ever!” said Nellie, but the way she spoke told she meant just the opposite.

“I tell you vot ve vos do, Tom,” suggested Hans.  “Ve vos form a boetry association alretty, hey?  Songpirt can be der bresident.”

“What will you be, secretary?” asked Fred.

“No, I vos peen treasurer,” answered Hans.

“Hans wants the money,” put in Dick.

“Dot’s it,” answered the German youth calmly.  “Ven dem udder fellers makes up pad verses I vos fine dem a tollar, und ven I gits enough tollars I skip me to Canada or Mexigo, hey?” And he said this so comically everybody had to laugh.

The automobiles had been ordered down to the dock and were already in waiting.  Each was in charge of a chauffeur, and soon the boys and girls went ashore and piled in.  Dick and Dora, Sam and Grace, and Fred got in the first turnout and the others in the second.

“Now do not go too far,” said Mrs. Stanhope, “and be sure and keep on roads that are safe.”

“And do not stay out later than ten o’clock this evening,” added Mrs. Laning.