Identifier: worldsstoryhisto13tapp (find matches)
Title: The world's story; a history of the world in story, song and art, ed. by Eva March Tappan
Year: 1914 (1910s)
Authors: Tappan, Eva March, 1854-1930 Ploetz, Karl Julius, 1819-1881 Tillinghast, William Hopkins, 1819-1881 Dresser, Horatio W. (Horatio Willis), b. 1866
Subjects: World history
Publisher: Boston and New York : Houghton Mifflin company
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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y from Seminary Ridge, which faces Ceme-tery Ridge. There, though smashed to pieces by Hancockspitiless fire, the heroic rebels broke over the stone wall, andArmistead laid his hand on a Union cannon and fell dead.They call it the high-water mark of the rebelHon. At the reunion, When it came to be three oclock, thetime when they made that other charge, Picketts men againcrowded their way through the thick underbrush and madetheir way up the hill. All along the stone wall eager handsbent down to help them up the wall. In every face that bentabove them from the stone wall was an eager, welcomingsmile, and over them, as they reached it, floated a great flag,the flag of the United States, with forty-eight stars in it. . . .Hancocks men pulled them over the wall, and instantly theformation was gone. The blue and the gray were huddledindiscriminately together in the Bloody Angle, clapping eachother on the back and telling each other how thankful theywere that they had lived to see this day.
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THE NATIONAL RED CROSS AT WORK gear even when the National Director is lost. It is mi-raculously free from red tape. For years now it has intimes of peace prepared for war; but it stands armed andvigilant against the elements rather than against a hu-man foe. AMERICA FOR ME BY HENRY VAN DYKE T IS fine to see the Old World, and travel up and downAmong the famous palaces and the cities of renown,To admire the crumbly castles, and the statues of the kings; —But now I think Ive had enough of antiquated things. So its home again, and home again, America for me!My heart is turning home again, and there I long to he,In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars,Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars. Oh, London is a mans town, theres power in the air;And Paris is a womans town, with flowers in her hair;And its sweet to dream in Venice, and its great to study Rome;But when it comes to living there is no place like home. I like the German fir-woods, in green

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