bravery, but the end was sure. They were outnumbered now, two to one. Their submarines stayed with superhuman courage and sent six battleships with five thousand of our bravest men to their graves before they went down.
The captains of the dreadnaughts, when they saw the end had come, swung their prows into the teeth of our fleet and sank with colors flying.
On the day our army marched into Boston with bands playing “The Star Spangled Banner,” three hundred thousand Bostonians stood in silence and tears and watched them pass the old State House, along Columbus Avenue, up Tremont Street and through Beacon to the steps of the Capitol. There they stood for hours and sang
“My Country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of Liberty,
Of thee I sing.”
The President and his Cabinet, released from Fort Warren, reviewed our victorious fleet the following day.
There were no vulgar cheers. Their souls were stirred to greater depths.
When the triumphal procession swung past the old Armory on the East Side of New York, Virginia Holland, with Zonia and Marya, rode at the head of a division of fifty thousand Daughters of Jael. The orderly outrider on her left was a slender Italian mother, on whose breast was pinned a tiny blood-stained flag of the Republic.
Congress met in December. The Senate used the East Room of the Executive Mansion, the House of Representatives met in the Belasco Theater. These two buildings stood intact.