"Hurrah for Washington!" they understood, and "Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!" was only to be expected on that occasion.
But there ran a special note through my poem--a thought that only Israel Rubinstein or Beckie Aronovitch could have fully understood, besides myself.

For I made myself the spokesman of the "luckless sons of Abraham," saying-- Then we weary Hebrew children at last found rest In the land where reigned Freedom, and like a nest To homeless birds your land proved to us, and therefore Will we gratefully sing your praise evermore.
The boys and girls who had never been turned away from any door because of their father's religion sat as if fascinated in their places.

But they woke up and applauded heartily when I was done, following the example of Miss Dwight, who wore the happy face which meant that one of her pupils had done well.
The recitation was repeated, by request, before several other classes, and the applause was equally prolonged at each repetition.

After the exercises I was surrounded, praised, questioned, and made much of, by teachers as well as pupils.

Plainly I had not poured my praise of George Washington into deaf ears.