Where thou cuttest up such pranks Bobolink! Nothing can'st thou know of sorrow, Grimacing (gri mās'ing): making faces. Gather a single blade of grass, and examine its narrow sword-shaped strip of tufted green. Nothing there, as it seems, of notable goodness or beauty. A very little strength and a very little tallness, and a few delicate long lines meeting in a point not a per fect point, but blunt and unfinished. And yet, think well of it, and judge whether of all the gorgeous flowers that beam in summer air, and of all strong and goodly trees, pleasant to the eyes, or good for food stately palm and pine, strong ash and oak - there be any by man so deeply loved, by God so highly graced, as that narrow blade of green. - From "Modern Painters" by Ruskin. THE CANADIAN SONG-SPARROW. J. D. EDGAR. JAMES D. EDGAR, of Toronto, Ontario; a lawyer and poet. He has been for some years a member of the Canadian Parliament. His writings show he is a keen observer, as well as a writer. He attaches the following note to these lines about the songs-parrow of Canada: "Every resident in the northern and eastern counties of the Dominion has heard the note of the song-sparrow in all the woods and fields through the early days of spring. While his voice is familiar to the ear, very few can boast of having seen him, so carefully does he conceal himself from view. He dwells long upon his first and second notes, and, in metrical phrase, he forms a distinct 'spondee'? He then rattles off at least three ‘dactyls' in quick succession. In different localities, different words are supplied to his music. Early settlers heard him echoing their despair with 'Hard times in Canada, Canada, Canada.' Others maintain that he is searching for traces of a dark crime, and unceasingly demands to know 'Who-killed-Kennedy, Kennedy, Kennedy?' The thrifty farmer detects the words of warning, 'Come-now-sow-the-wheat, sow-the-wheat, sow-the-wheat.' The writer has distinctly recognized in the little song the melancholy sentiments indicated in these lines." Where the farmer ploughs his furrow, In the orchard white with blossom, Comes the little brown-clad singer, A CLASS PARTY. Jane. Let us have a class party to-day. We have not had one for some time. Martin. Let us each select one character from our last reading lessons. I will be Frank Chase. Robert. Well, I rather like that boy myself, but as you have taken him, I'll be Pegasus, the winged steed. James. Modest boys, both of you. Look at me! I'm Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Jane. You have not given me a chance to speak; but please understand I'm Alfred Tennyson. Sarah. I think I'll be Agnes Repplier, for I've heard that she has written books whole books - about cats, and I like cats. Henry. Listen to me. I'm a Canadian; I'm Alexander McLachlan. Charles. And I'm another Canadian, James D. Edgar, at your service. Katherine. You have left nothing for me, so I shall just preside at the party. I hereby nominate myself. All in favor of me say "Aye." All. Aye. Katherine. There, I'm elected. Now, let me think how shall I conduct this party? You each know what you are to represent. I shall call on each one to contribute something towards the entertainment; but what you say must be in keeping with the character you have chosen. We are pleased to have with us to-day Frank Chase, whom you have all met. He will say a few words to you. Martin. You all know I did not get the prize for good writing, but I believe I won a prize. Were you ever tempted to tell a lie? For a few seconds I believe I was tempted; but I just downed the old tempter and won a victory over him. I won a prize by learning how happy I feel when Right and I are on the same side. - Katherine. We all rejoice with Frank Chase on having won so great a victory. We have the great honor of having with us to-day the celebrated poet, Alfred Tennyson. We shall be pleased to hear from him. The class may work out the rest of the play, remembering to include all the characters to be found on pages 79 to 90 inclusive. Find out more about the Walter whom Agnes Repplier mentions. An account of him may be found in an encyclopedia under Walter von der Vogelweide or Walther von der Vogelweide. Notice the two articles on Pegasus. This exercise can be made most interesting and profitable if the pupils will prepare for the work. THE FIELD OF THE FRIGHTFUL BEASTS. JANE BARLOW. JANE BARLOW, an Irish writer of prose and poetry, has published "Bogland Studies," "A Creel of Irish Stories," "Irish Idylls," and other books. Her home is at Raheny, Ireland. This selection is from a charming book, "The Land of the Shamrock," Copyright, 1900, by Dodd, Mead & Company. MacBarry bore a heavy weight on his mind through a part of his summer at Clonmanavon, which, being only the sixth one in his life, seemed to him a season without any beginning or end. He was visiting his great-grandmother, Mrs. Kavanagh, who for each of his years could have given a baker's dozen of her own, and still have had several left over. Through the glowing July days the old lady worked away, steadily and swiftly, at sundry woolen garments, sometimes expressing a fear, as her needles clicked, that she would hardly have them ready for the boys before the cold weather began. The youngest of these boys would never see fifty again, and Mrs. Kavanagh knitted the faster whenever she thought of her Johnnie's rheumatism. To Mac, on the contrary, it never occurred at this time that the days were ever going to be otherwise than warm and long, with hummings in the sunshiny air; neither did he concern himself about anybody's tendency to aches and stiffness. His cares had quite a different cause. It was one of his great-grandmother's household laws that he should every morning take a walk, attended by Kate Heron, the housemaid. Kate, duly carrying out this |