Oh Columbia, the gem of the ocean,The home of the brave and the free,The shrine of each patriot’s devotion,A world offers homage to thee.Thy mandates make heroes assemble,When liberty’s form stands in view,Thy banners make tyranny tremble,When borne by the red, white, and blue.When borne by the red, white, and blue,When borne by the red, white, and blue,Thy banners make tyranny tremble,When borne by the red, white, and blue.When war waged its wide desolation,And threaten’d our land to deform,The ark then of freedom’s foundation,Columbia rode safe through the storm.With her garland of victory o’er her,When so proudly she bore her bold crew,With her flag proudly floating before her,The boast of the red, white, and blue.The boast of, &c.The wine cup, the wine cup bring hither,And fill you it up to the brim,May the wreath they have won never witherNor the star of their glory grow dim,May the service united ne’er sever,And hold to their colors so true,The army and navy forever,Three cheers for the red, white, and blue.Three cheers for, &c.
Oh Columbia, the gem of the ocean,The home of the brave and the free,The shrine of each patriot’s devotion,A world offers homage to thee.Thy mandates make heroes assemble,When liberty’s form stands in view,Thy banners make tyranny tremble,When borne by the red, white, and blue.When borne by the red, white, and blue,When borne by the red, white, and blue,Thy banners make tyranny tremble,When borne by the red, white, and blue.
When war waged its wide desolation,And threaten’d our land to deform,The ark then of freedom’s foundation,Columbia rode safe through the storm.With her garland of victory o’er her,When so proudly she bore her bold crew,With her flag proudly floating before her,The boast of the red, white, and blue.The boast of, &c.
The wine cup, the wine cup bring hither,And fill you it up to the brim,May the wreath they have won never witherNor the star of their glory grow dim,May the service united ne’er sever,And hold to their colors so true,The army and navy forever,Three cheers for the red, white, and blue.Three cheers for, &c.
Copied by permission ofRussell & Tolman, 291 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
Oh! the firm old rock, the wave-worn rock,That braved the blast and the billow’s shock;It was born with time on a barren shore,And it laugh’d with scorn at the ocean’s roar.’Twas here that first the Pilgrim band,Came weary up to the foaming strand;And the tree they rear’d in the days gone by,It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne’er shall die.Thou stern old rock in the ages past,Thy brow was bleach’d by the warring blast;But thy wintry toil with the wave is o’er,And the billows beat thy base no more.Yet countless as thy sands, old rock,Are the hardy sons of the Pilgrim stock;And the tree they rear’d in the days gone by,It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne’er shall die.Then rest, old rock, on the sea-beat shore,Our sires are lull’d by the breaker’s roar;’Twas here that first their hymns were heardO’er the startled cry of the ocean bird.’Twas here they lived, ’twas here they died,Their forms repose on the green hill-side;And the tree they rear’d in the days gone by,It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne’er shall die.
Oh! the firm old rock, the wave-worn rock,That braved the blast and the billow’s shock;It was born with time on a barren shore,And it laugh’d with scorn at the ocean’s roar.’Twas here that first the Pilgrim band,Came weary up to the foaming strand;And the tree they rear’d in the days gone by,It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne’er shall die.
Thou stern old rock in the ages past,Thy brow was bleach’d by the warring blast;But thy wintry toil with the wave is o’er,And the billows beat thy base no more.Yet countless as thy sands, old rock,Are the hardy sons of the Pilgrim stock;And the tree they rear’d in the days gone by,It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne’er shall die.
Then rest, old rock, on the sea-beat shore,Our sires are lull’d by the breaker’s roar;’Twas here that first their hymns were heardO’er the startled cry of the ocean bird.’Twas here they lived, ’twas here they died,Their forms repose on the green hill-side;And the tree they rear’d in the days gone by,It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne’er shall die.
Oh, fare you well, my own Mary Ann,Fare you well for a while;The ship is ready, and the wind is fair,And I am bound for the sea, Mary Ann.Oh, didn’t you see yourturtiledove,A sittin’ on yonder pile,Lamenting the loss of his own true love,And so am I for my Mary Ann.Oh, fare you well, &c.A lobster in a lobster pot,A blue fish in a brook,May suffer some—but you know not,What I do feel for my Mary Ann.Oh, fare you well, &c.The pride of all the produce ground,The dinner kitchen-garden fruit,Ispnmpkinssome, but can’t compare,The love I bear for my Mary Ann.Oh, fare you well, &c.
Oh, fare you well, my own Mary Ann,Fare you well for a while;The ship is ready, and the wind is fair,And I am bound for the sea, Mary Ann.
Oh, didn’t you see yourturtiledove,A sittin’ on yonder pile,Lamenting the loss of his own true love,And so am I for my Mary Ann.
Oh, fare you well, &c.
A lobster in a lobster pot,A blue fish in a brook,May suffer some—but you know not,What I do feel for my Mary Ann.
Oh, fare you well, &c.
The pride of all the produce ground,The dinner kitchen-garden fruit,Ispnmpkinssome, but can’t compare,The love I bear for my Mary Ann.
Oh, fare you well, &c.
Beautiful star in heaven so bright,Softly falls thy silver light,As thou movest from earth afar,Star of the evening—beautiful star.Beautiful star, beautiful star,Star of the evening,Beautiful, beautiful star.In fancy’s eyes thou seemst to say,Follow me, come from earth away;Upward they spirit’s pinions try,To realms of love beyond the sky.Beautiful star, &c.Shine on! O star of love divine,And may our souls around thee twine,As thou movest from earth afar,Star of the twilight—beautiful star.Beautiful star, &c.
Beautiful star in heaven so bright,Softly falls thy silver light,As thou movest from earth afar,Star of the evening—beautiful star.Beautiful star, beautiful star,Star of the evening,Beautiful, beautiful star.
In fancy’s eyes thou seemst to say,Follow me, come from earth away;Upward they spirit’s pinions try,To realms of love beyond the sky.Beautiful star, &c.
Shine on! O star of love divine,And may our souls around thee twine,As thou movest from earth afar,Star of the twilight—beautiful star.Beautiful star, &c.
The age of giant progress,Americans all hail!The land, all interwovenWith telegraph and rail;No sluggish chains shall bind us,No tardiness delay;The morning light is breaking (waking)O’er our destiny.The age of trained lightning,“Dispatching” human thought;What wondrous revolutionThe scheme of Morse hath wrought!No time, no space can hinderThe quick, electric fire;Intelligence is flashing (dashing)O’er the magic wire.The age of grand conceptions,The “cable of the deep!”It “snapp’d,” but we will mend it,We have no time to weep.The great Pacific Railroad!’Twill not be long beforeThe railroad cars are flying (hieing)From the golden shore.The age of priceless knowledge,The scholar’s jubilee!The land all dotted overWith institutions free.Our public schools! Oh, hail them!They offer treasures cheap:The boys and girls are scaling (hailing)Science’s rugged steep.
The age of giant progress,Americans all hail!The land, all interwovenWith telegraph and rail;No sluggish chains shall bind us,No tardiness delay;The morning light is breaking (waking)O’er our destiny.
The age of trained lightning,“Dispatching” human thought;What wondrous revolutionThe scheme of Morse hath wrought!No time, no space can hinderThe quick, electric fire;Intelligence is flashing (dashing)O’er the magic wire.
The age of grand conceptions,The “cable of the deep!”It “snapp’d,” but we will mend it,We have no time to weep.The great Pacific Railroad!’Twill not be long beforeThe railroad cars are flying (hieing)From the golden shore.
The age of priceless knowledge,The scholar’s jubilee!The land all dotted overWith institutions free.Our public schools! Oh, hail them!They offer treasures cheap:The boys and girls are scaling (hailing)Science’s rugged steep.
Copied by permission ofRussell & Tolman, 291 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
Oh, how glad to get home,For far I’ve wander’d,Joyful, joyful I come,Dear home, to thee!Fond ones welcome me here,Loved ones are near me;Voices float on my ear,Sweet, sweet to me.CHORUS.Dear friends that are round me, haste with looks delighted,Days long vanish’d and gone, come to my heart.Dear home of my childhood, once again united,Never, never again from thee I’ll part.Father, in the warm graspI feel thy welcome,Oh, from love’s tender claspNe’er let me fly;Mother, fondly againThou dost enfold me;Tears I can not restrainBurst from mine eye.Chorus.—Dear friends that are round me, &c.Brother, still is thy browNoble as ever,As I look on thee now,How swells my heart!Sister, gentle and kind,Close to me clinging;Now in love we are twinedNo more to part.Chorus.—Dear friends that are round me, &c.
Oh, how glad to get home,For far I’ve wander’d,Joyful, joyful I come,Dear home, to thee!Fond ones welcome me here,Loved ones are near me;Voices float on my ear,Sweet, sweet to me.
CHORUS.
Dear friends that are round me, haste with looks delighted,Days long vanish’d and gone, come to my heart.Dear home of my childhood, once again united,Never, never again from thee I’ll part.
Father, in the warm graspI feel thy welcome,Oh, from love’s tender claspNe’er let me fly;Mother, fondly againThou dost enfold me;Tears I can not restrainBurst from mine eye.
Chorus.—Dear friends that are round me, &c.
Brother, still is thy browNoble as ever,As I look on thee now,How swells my heart!Sister, gentle and kind,Close to me clinging;Now in love we are twinedNo more to part.
Chorus.—Dear friends that are round me, &c.
“They tell me that my mother’s sleepingIn the church-yard far away,That she knows not I am weeping—Weeping all the live long day.“They tell me that my father’s lyingIn the dark grave by her side;That I’m left on life’s rough billowWith no earthly friend or guide.“When the wild woods echo loudly,And the merry songsters sing,When the winds are hurrying past meWith sweet music on their wings,“Methinks I hear my mother calling,And her grave I long to find;But there’s no one here to lead me,For the orphan boy is blind.”He now sleeps within that church-yardWhere he ofttimes long’d to be;Angels bore his soul to heaven,Now the poor blind boy can see.
“They tell me that my mother’s sleepingIn the church-yard far away,That she knows not I am weeping—Weeping all the live long day.
“They tell me that my father’s lyingIn the dark grave by her side;That I’m left on life’s rough billowWith no earthly friend or guide.
“When the wild woods echo loudly,And the merry songsters sing,When the winds are hurrying past meWith sweet music on their wings,
“Methinks I hear my mother calling,And her grave I long to find;But there’s no one here to lead me,For the orphan boy is blind.”
He now sleeps within that church-yardWhere he ofttimes long’d to be;Angels bore his soul to heaven,Now the poor blind boy can see.
Summer’s breath is lightly fallingOn the silent waters blue,And the moonbeams bright are sportingWith the drops of glittering dew;Hark! away upon the watersThere’s a sound of dipping oar,And a boat-song loudly chanted,Echoes down the lake-side shore.Now the night-bird’s song comes floatingSweetly down the midnight air,Waking all the depths, to listenTo the birds that thus should dareTo break the weird and solemn stillness,That had reign’d so long before,In the wood, and mead, and valley,On the silent lake-side shore.Now the song comes swelling bolder,And the boatman’s chant is heard,Louder o’er the distant waters,As it would outvie the bird;But each song at last is finish’d,And the bird to rest once more,Leaves no sound to break the quietOf the happy lake-side shore.Who can say there is no pleasureThus to walk the night alone,Listening to the night-bird’s music,Or the boatman’s solemn tone?Where is there a spot more lovely,Where the vail of night hangs o’er?Where another place more lovelyThan this silent lake-side shore?
Summer’s breath is lightly fallingOn the silent waters blue,And the moonbeams bright are sportingWith the drops of glittering dew;Hark! away upon the watersThere’s a sound of dipping oar,And a boat-song loudly chanted,Echoes down the lake-side shore.
Now the night-bird’s song comes floatingSweetly down the midnight air,Waking all the depths, to listenTo the birds that thus should dareTo break the weird and solemn stillness,That had reign’d so long before,In the wood, and mead, and valley,On the silent lake-side shore.
Now the song comes swelling bolder,And the boatman’s chant is heard,Louder o’er the distant waters,As it would outvie the bird;But each song at last is finish’d,And the bird to rest once more,Leaves no sound to break the quietOf the happy lake-side shore.
Who can say there is no pleasureThus to walk the night alone,Listening to the night-bird’s music,Or the boatman’s solemn tone?Where is there a spot more lovely,Where the vail of night hangs o’er?Where another place more lovelyThan this silent lake-side shore?
We were crowded in the cabin,Not a soul would dare to sleep,It was midnight on the waters,And the storm was o’er the deep’Tis a fearful thing in winterTo be shatter’d by the blast,And to hear the trumpet thunder,“Cut away the mast!”We shudder’d there in silence,For the stoutest held his breath,While the hungry sea was roaring,And the breakers talk’d with death;Sad thus we sat in silence,All busy with our prayers,“We’re lost!” the captain shouted,As he stagger’d down the stairs.But his little daughter whisper’d.As she took the icy hand,“Is not God upon the waters,Just the same as on the land?”Then we kiss’d the little maiden,And we spake of better cheer,As we anchor’d safe in harbor,Where the sun was shining clear.Chorus.—And a shout rose loud and joyous,As we grasp’d the friendly hand,God is on the waters,Just the same as on the land.
We were crowded in the cabin,Not a soul would dare to sleep,It was midnight on the waters,And the storm was o’er the deep’Tis a fearful thing in winterTo be shatter’d by the blast,And to hear the trumpet thunder,“Cut away the mast!”
We shudder’d there in silence,For the stoutest held his breath,While the hungry sea was roaring,And the breakers talk’d with death;Sad thus we sat in silence,All busy with our prayers,“We’re lost!” the captain shouted,As he stagger’d down the stairs.
But his little daughter whisper’d.As she took the icy hand,“Is not God upon the waters,Just the same as on the land?”Then we kiss’d the little maiden,And we spake of better cheer,As we anchor’d safe in harbor,Where the sun was shining clear.
Chorus.—And a shout rose loud and joyous,As we grasp’d the friendly hand,God is on the waters,Just the same as on the land.
Copied by permission ofPeters & Sons, Fourth St. Cincinnati O owners of the copyright.
Though many and bright are the stars that appearIn the flag of our country unfurl’d;And the stripes that are swelling in majesty there,Like a rainbow adorning the world;Their lights are unsullied as those in the sky,By a deed that our fathers have done,And they’re leagued in as true and as holy a tie,In their motto of “Many in one.”From the hour when those patriots fearlessly flungThat banner of star-light abroad,Ever true to themselves, to that motto they clungAs they clung to the promise of God;By the bayonet traced at the midnight of war,On the fields where our glory was won,Oh! perish the hand, or the heart that would marOur motto of “Many in one.”’Mid the smoke of the contest, the cannon’s deep roar.How oft it hath gather’d renown;While those stars were reflected in rivers of gore,When the cross and the lion went down.And though few were their lights in the gloom of that hour,Yet the hearts that were striking below,Had God for their bulwark, and truth for their power,And they stopp’d not to number the foe.We are many in one where there glitters a starIn the blue of the heavens above,And tyrants shall quail ’mid their dungeons afar,When they gaze on our motto of love.It shall gleam o’er the sea ’mid the bolts of the storm,O’er the tempest, and battle, and wreck,And flame where our guns with their thunder grow warm,’Neath the blood on the slippery deck.Then up with our flag, let it stream on the air,Though our fathers are cold in their graves;They had hands that could strike, they had souls that could dare,And their sons were not born to be slaves.Up, up with our banner where’er it may call,Our millions shall rally around,A nation of freemen that moment shall fall,When its stars shall be trail’d on the ground.
Though many and bright are the stars that appearIn the flag of our country unfurl’d;And the stripes that are swelling in majesty there,Like a rainbow adorning the world;Their lights are unsullied as those in the sky,By a deed that our fathers have done,And they’re leagued in as true and as holy a tie,In their motto of “Many in one.”
From the hour when those patriots fearlessly flungThat banner of star-light abroad,Ever true to themselves, to that motto they clungAs they clung to the promise of God;By the bayonet traced at the midnight of war,On the fields where our glory was won,Oh! perish the hand, or the heart that would marOur motto of “Many in one.”
’Mid the smoke of the contest, the cannon’s deep roar.How oft it hath gather’d renown;While those stars were reflected in rivers of gore,When the cross and the lion went down.And though few were their lights in the gloom of that hour,Yet the hearts that were striking below,Had God for their bulwark, and truth for their power,And they stopp’d not to number the foe.
We are many in one where there glitters a starIn the blue of the heavens above,And tyrants shall quail ’mid their dungeons afar,When they gaze on our motto of love.It shall gleam o’er the sea ’mid the bolts of the storm,O’er the tempest, and battle, and wreck,And flame where our guns with their thunder grow warm,’Neath the blood on the slippery deck.
Then up with our flag, let it stream on the air,Though our fathers are cold in their graves;They had hands that could strike, they had souls that could dare,And their sons were not born to be slaves.Up, up with our banner where’er it may call,Our millions shall rally around,A nation of freemen that moment shall fall,When its stars shall be trail’d on the ground.
There is a good time coming, boys,A good time coming;There’s a good time coming, boys,Wait a little longer;We may not live to see the day,But earth shall glisten in the rayOf the good time coming;Cannon-balls may aid the truth,But thought’s a weapon stronger;We’ll win our battles by its aid,Wait a little longer.There’s a good time coming, boys,A good time coming,There’s a good time coming, boys.Wait a little longer.There’s a good time coming, boys,A good time coming;There’s a good time coming, boys,Wait a little longer;The pen shall supersede the sword,And right, not might, shall be the lord,In the good time comidg;Worth, not birth, shall rule mankind,And be acknowledged stronger,The proper impulse has been given,Wait a little longer.There’s a good time coming, boys,A good time coming,There’s a good time coming, boys,Wait a little longer.
There is a good time coming, boys,A good time coming;There’s a good time coming, boys,Wait a little longer;We may not live to see the day,But earth shall glisten in the rayOf the good time coming;Cannon-balls may aid the truth,But thought’s a weapon stronger;We’ll win our battles by its aid,Wait a little longer.There’s a good time coming, boys,A good time coming,There’s a good time coming, boys.Wait a little longer.
There’s a good time coming, boys,A good time coming;There’s a good time coming, boys,Wait a little longer;The pen shall supersede the sword,And right, not might, shall be the lord,In the good time comidg;Worth, not birth, shall rule mankind,And be acknowledged stronger,The proper impulse has been given,Wait a little longer.There’s a good time coming, boys,A good time coming,There’s a good time coming, boys,Wait a little longer.
The hills of New England, how proudly they rise,In their wildness of grandeur to blend with the skies,With their far azure outline, and tall, ancient trees,New England, my country, I love thee for these.The vales of New England, that cradle her streams,And smile in their beauty like land in our dreams;All sunny with beauty, embosom’d in ease.New England, my country, I love thee for these.The woods of New England, still verdant and high,Though rock’d by the tempest of ages gone by;Romance dims their arches, and speaks in the breeze,New England, my country, I love thee for these.The streams of New England, that roar as they go,Or seem in their wildness but dreaming to flow;Oh! bright gilds the sunbeam their march to the seas,New England, my country, I love thee for these.The homes of New England, free, fortuned, and fair;Oh, many a heart treasures its seraphim there,E’en more than thy mountains or streamlets they please,New England, my country, I love thee for these.God shield thee, New England, dear land of my birth,And thy children that wander afar on the earth;Thou still art my country, where’er I am cast,—Take thou to thy bosom my ashes at last.
The hills of New England, how proudly they rise,In their wildness of grandeur to blend with the skies,With their far azure outline, and tall, ancient trees,New England, my country, I love thee for these.
The vales of New England, that cradle her streams,And smile in their beauty like land in our dreams;All sunny with beauty, embosom’d in ease.New England, my country, I love thee for these.
The woods of New England, still verdant and high,Though rock’d by the tempest of ages gone by;Romance dims their arches, and speaks in the breeze,New England, my country, I love thee for these.
The streams of New England, that roar as they go,Or seem in their wildness but dreaming to flow;Oh! bright gilds the sunbeam their march to the seas,New England, my country, I love thee for these.
The homes of New England, free, fortuned, and fair;Oh, many a heart treasures its seraphim there,E’en more than thy mountains or streamlets they please,New England, my country, I love thee for these.
God shield thee, New England, dear land of my birth,And thy children that wander afar on the earth;Thou still art my country, where’er I am cast,—Take thou to thy bosom my ashes at last.
Battling with life,’Mid care and strife,The daily toils in hope I undergo;Yet mem’ry will wander,Fonder oh, fonder,To the dear old folks I loved long ago.Long years have goneSince in the mornOf life I heard the river’s gentle flow;And oft mem’ry lingers,As point time’s fingers,To the dear old folks I loved long ago.Dell, hill, and tree,Flower, bird, and bee,All as of yore, make music sweet and low,And, though on earth riven,I hope to meet in heavenThe dear old folks I loved long ago.Then up, my soul,Strive for the goal,Oh, linger not to weep and wail in woe;For far in yon azure blueMethinks I yet may knowThe dear old folks I loved long ago.
Battling with life,’Mid care and strife,The daily toils in hope I undergo;Yet mem’ry will wander,Fonder oh, fonder,To the dear old folks I loved long ago.
Long years have goneSince in the mornOf life I heard the river’s gentle flow;And oft mem’ry lingers,As point time’s fingers,To the dear old folks I loved long ago.
Dell, hill, and tree,Flower, bird, and bee,All as of yore, make music sweet and low,And, though on earth riven,I hope to meet in heavenThe dear old folks I loved long ago.
Then up, my soul,Strive for the goal,Oh, linger not to weep and wail in woe;For far in yon azure blueMethinks I yet may knowThe dear old folks I loved long ago.
CONTENTS
OF
Beadle’s Dime Song Book,
NO.2.
CONTENTS
OF
Beadle’s Dime Song Book,
NO.3.
CONTENTS
OF
Beadle’s Dime Song Book,
NO.4.
CONTENTS
OF
Beadle’s Dime Song Book,
NO.5.
CONTENTS
OF
Beadle’s Dime Song Book,
NO.6.
CONTENTS
OF
Beadle’s Dime Song Book,
NO.7.
$20 Worth of Music for Ten Cents!
BEADLE’S
DIME MELODIST,
COMPRISING THE MUSIC AND WORDS
CONTENTS:
BEADLE’S
Dime Cook Book.
CONTENTS.
HAND-BOOKS FOR HOUSEKEEPERS.
BEADLE’S DIME COOK-BOOK,BEADLE’S DIME RECIPE-BOOK,BEADLE’S DIME DRESS-MAKER AND MILLINER,BEADLE’S DIME BOOK OF ETIQUETTE,BEADLE’S DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN.
The COOK-BOOK embraces Recipes, Directions, Rules and Facts relating to every department of Housekeeping.
The RECIPE-BOOK is a perfect treasure house of knowledge, for the kitchen, parlor, nursery, sick-room, the toilet, &c., &c.
The BOOK OF ETIQUETTE can truly be called a useful work. It embodies all the information necessary to “post” the reader, old or young, male or female, upon every point of etiquette or social usage.
The FAMILY PHYSICIAN is an invaluable hand-book for the family and an indispensable aid to the thrifty housewife.
BOOKS FOR THE SCHOOL AND HOME STUDENTS.
BEADLE’S DIME SPEAKER Nos. 1 & 2,BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES Nos. 1 & 2,BEADLE’S DIME SCHOOL MELODIST,BEADLE’S DIME LETTER-WRITER.
This series of educational works is designed to meet the wants of every school, public or private—every scholar, male or female, in our country.
MUSIC AND SONG.
Beadle’s Dime Song Books, No’s 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 & 7
BAEDLE’S DIME MILITARY SONG BOOK,BEADLE’S DIME MELODIST—Words and Music.
GAMES, AMUSEMENTS, &c.
BEADLE’S DIME BASE-BALL PLAYER,BEADLE’S DIME GUIDE TO CRICKET,BEADLE’S DIME GUIDE TO SWIMMING,BEADLE’S DIME BOOK OF DREAMS,BEADLE’S DIME BOOK OF FUN,Nos.1 & 2,BEADLE’S DIME CHESS INSTRUCTOR.
BEADLE’S DIME BIOGRAPHICAL LIBRARY.
No.1.—GARIBALDI:The Washington of Italy.
No.2.—DANIEL BOONE:The Hunter of Kentucky.
No.3.—KIT CARSON:The Rocky Mountain Scout and Guide.
No.4.—MAJOR-GENERAL ANTHONY WAYNE:The Revolutionary Patriot and Indian Conqueror.
No.5.—COL. DAVID CROCKETT:And His Adventures.
No.6.—JOHN PAUL JONES:The Naval Hero of ’76.