At the close of this brief and touching address, Dr. Barton spoke the words of committal; and, as he uttered, “Dust to dust, ashes to ashes,” dropped upon the lowered casket the large red roses, and pronounced the benediction.

Just then a mother stepped up and whispered, “My little girl was born in Clara Barton’s birthplace; in the very room where she was born. Will you baptize her, and will you do it now?”

“Bring her to me,” said the minister, “and I will christen her ‘Clara Barton.’”

So the name was bestowed in that hour upon another little girl, whose parents sought that the spirit that had lived in Clara Barton might live again in the life of their own daughter.

Two years from the following summer, the world witnessed a desolating war, and the months that followed wrought their inevitable destiny by plunging America into the seething conflict. Long before America formally entered the fight, the American Red Cross was active in measures of relief for the sorrowing nations of Europe. When, at length, the United States itself entered the war, the Red Cross blazed forth in every community between the oceans. Churches and town halls and private homes became dépôts where supplies were collected, bandages rolled, and workers trained. Hospitals, in our own country and along the battle-front, were erected and equipped. To them went thousands of American young women, each one of them wearing, on her arm or cap, the symbol which Clara Barton brought back to her own land after the close of the Franco-Prussian War. In their heroism and their deeds of mercy, Clara Barton lived again.

THE END

INDEX