'Tis beauty asks, and reason must comply."

This is very fair satire, though it would have been better had the comets and earthquakes and volcanoes, which clearly would not be influenced by Clara's folly, been omitted from the lines; but, though doubtless the rebuke was merited by a few of the irresponsible and thoughtless girls of the day who made of fashion their one object of worship, the poem is a libel if applied to the majority of American women of the day, who sacrificed more than the whims of fashion in their devotion to the needs of their native land.

Mrs. Warren, however, did better work than that which has been cited. Her history of the Revolution was much admired and for years remained one of the standard works upon the subject, though it might be difficult to find a dozen copies of the book at the present time. It was rather personal in some of its political references, and its portrait of Adams brought about a rupture in the friendship that had long existed between the Warrens and the Adamses; but this was but for a time. Mrs. Warren's style was tainted with the affectation so prevalent in that day, and she was profuse in classical allusion, as were the majority of the authors of her period. She writes thus to Mr. Adams at the time of the calling together of the first Continental Congress: "Though you have condescended to ask my sentiments, in conjunction with those of a gentleman qualified both by his judgment and his integrity, as well as his attachment to the interest of his country, to advise at this important crisis, yet I shall not be so presumptuous as to offer anything but my fervent wishes that the enemies of America may hereafter for ever tremble at the wisdom and firmness, the prudence and justice of the delegates deputed from our cities, as much as did the Phocians of old at the power of the Amphictyons of Greece. But if the Locrians should in time appear among you, I advise you to beware of choosing an ambitious Philip as your leader. Such a one might subvert the principles on which your institution is founded, abolish your order, and build up a monarchy on the ruins of the happy institution."

This extract shows not only the style of the writer, but the esteem in which she was held by some of the foremost men of the day; for Adams would not have "asked the sentiments" of one for whose judgment he had not profound respect.

Dramatist, poet, historian, and correspondent of some of the most noted men of her day, Mercy Warren stands as the foremost woman representative of American letters in Revolutionary days. It is true that her activities were by no means confined to this period, for she was born in 1728 and died in 1814, having thus passed eighty-seven years of well-filled life; but she is as much the woman writer of the Revolution as Freneau is its male poet. Perhaps neither name is familiar to the present generation; but Mercy Warren and Philip Freneau, if not of the highest order of their calling, did notable work in the cause of American letters, and the former is well worthy of being included in any work that purports to tell, however incompletely, the history of American womanhood.

The shadow passed at length, leaving the country maimed, bleeding, but still lusty with vigor and with the waxing strength of youth. The passing of the shadow found the women of America for the most part shorn of the gauds that women love, destitute of the lesser things of life, but filled with a proud sense of new birth with their country. To the triumphant result of the years of strife and struggle they had contributed in full measure; and they were ready, however they might be hampered by present conditions, to reap the fruit of the period of contest no less than the men, though in different fashion.

Moreover, though in hidden methods, they had asserted themselves and the power of their womanhood as never before. They had turned from the sporadic and eccentric attempts of some of their sex to win fame by religious leadership or other such manifestations of restless ambition; they had shown their power of concentrated and universal consecration to a cause when it was found worthy thereof, and they had evidenced their intensity of devotion to that which was of the best. The period of formation was over; the battle-filled days of the Revolution saw the birth of the American woman as an individual entity.

There is yet another name which must be recorded here, less for the merit of the work done than for the sentiment which attaches to that work. There still stands on Arch Street, Philadelphia, the little house where Betsy Ross made the first American flag that was given to the breeze of battle and conquest. Not perhaps the very first American flag, since Paul Jones's rattlesnake flag might fitly claim that honor, but the first to be recognized as in any way national and to survive, and therefore honored as truly the first of its kind. It is not Betsy Ross, but the birth of the flag of our country, of which we think when we look at that little house and remember why it is honored. But it is fitting that the maker of that flag which is the symbol of our country should find mention here, even though she had no other claim to be remembered among the notable women of our land.

And her fate is happier than that of her sisters of the Revolution, for the outward evidence of her work remains while that of the rest has passed away and is forgotten. Yet their work, regarded as done by the women of our country in general, was greater than hers, for she but furnished the symbol of that which they, by their courage and endurance of hardness and enthusiasm and faith, made a living thing. Nor must there be forgotten another contribution of the women to the cause of their native land,--their prayers. It is a scoffing age, but there still remain some who believe that prayer is of avail, that "more things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of," and these will not doubt that the petitions which went up from the length and breadth of the land for the success of the beloved cause were effectual in result. There were many women who, from lack of opportunity or power, had nothing else to give than their prayers for their country; and these they gave in full measure and with a fervency that doubtless helped to win the answer that they sought.