Key took from his pocket an old letter, and on its blank page pencilled the opening lines of the song.  In the boat which took him back to Baltimore he finished the poem, and in his hotel made a copy for the press.  The next day the lines were put into type by Samuel Sands, an apprentice in the office of the Baltimore American, who had been deserted in the general rush to see the battle as being too young to be trusted at the front, and that evening they were sung in the Holliday Street Theatre.  The next day the air was heard upon the streets of Baltimore from every boy who had been gifted with a voice or a whistle, and “The Star-Spangled Banner” was soon waving over the musical domain as victoriously as it had floated from the ramparts of Fort McHenry.

[Illustration:  FRANCIS SCOTT KEY At the age of 35]

It is in the great moments of life that a man gives himself to the world, and in the giving parts from nothing of himself, for in the gift he but expands his own nature and keeps himself in greater measure than before.  May not he to whom our great anthem came through the battle-storm smile pityingly upon the futile efforts of to-day to supply a national song that shall eclipse the noble lines born of patriotism and battle ardor and christened in flame?

Thus it was that Francis Scott Key reached the high tide of life before the defences of the Monumental City, and to Baltimore he returned when that tide was ebbing away, and in view of the old fort, under the battlements of which he had fallen to unfathomable depths of suffering and risen to immeasurable heights of triumphant joy, he crossed the bar into the higher tide beyond.  On a beautiful hill Baltimore has erected a stately monument to the memory of the man who linked her name with the majestic anthem which gives fitting voice to our national hopes.

Away on the other edge of our continent, in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, another noble shaft tells the world that “the Star-Spangled Banner yet waves” over all our land and knows no distinctions of North, South, East, or West.

In Olivet Cemetery, in the old historic city of Frederick, Maryland, is the grave of Francis Scott Key.  Over it stands a marble column supporting a statue of Key, his poet face illumined by the art of the sculptor, his arms outstretched, his left hand bearing a scroll inscribed with the lines of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” while on the pedestal sits Liberty, holding the flag for which those immortal lines were written.

Thus, perpetuated in granite, the noble patriot stands, looking over the town to which he long ago gave this message: