was all over," or desert Bally, as they suggested I might have done; but also to this day I do wonder whether I did display much courage in this little experience? As I said then, I was in it, and I could not get out.

I borrowed some dry clothes in Camp Verde and went home after the dark had fallen. It was barely light enough, I remember, for me to see white foam and floating hailstones in the water at the first crossing. I was a little afraid, but I reminded myself that I was now a rural school-teacher and that I'd better get over some of my weaknesses.

A GROUP OF SEASON POEMS

CANDLEMAS

BY ARTHUR KETCHUM

THE hedgerows cast a shallow shade

Upon the frozen grass,
But skies at evensong are soft,

And comes the Candlemas.

Each day a little later now

Lingers the westering sun;

Far out of sight the miracles
Of April are begun.

O barren bough! O frozen field!
Hopeless ye wait no more.
Life keeps her dearest promises
The Spring is at the door!

AN APRIL MORNING

BY BLISS CARMAN

ONCE more in misted April
The world is growing green.
Along the winding river
The plumy willows lean.

Beyond the sweeping meadows The looming mountains rise, Like battlements of dreamland Against the brooding skies.

In every wooded valley

The buds are breaking through, As though the heart of all things No languor ever knew.

The goldenwings and bluebirds Call to their heavenly choirs. The pines are blued and drifted With smoke of brushwood fires.

And in my sister's garden,
Where little breezes run,
The golden daffodillies
Are blowing in the sun.

APRIL'S RETURN

BY GRACE RICHARDSON

A FLUSH is on the woodland,
A song is in the hedge,
The meadow wan is fair again,
For April keeps her pledge.

A thrill with every heartbeat, A rapture touched with sighs, New lustre on the soul of Life, Tears in my happy eyes.

A DAY IN JUNE

BY ALICE CHOATE PERKINS

SOFT breezes through the apple orchards blow.
Deep in the tangle of the matted grass
Lies golden silence. High above me pass
The summer clouds, white, fathomless, and slow.
The dim green aisles beneath the branches low
Are hushed and still; only one merry bird
Clear calling from a treetop high is heard.
The sunlight glances through the leaves below.
There is a sense as of a world apart,

Where peace and beauty hand in hand will go. Lost is all bitterness, and hate, and wrong. Concealed within the dusky wood's deep heart The quiet hours seem lingering as they go, And all the perfect day is one glad song.

AUTUMN

BY BLISS CARMAN

Now when the time of fruit and grain is come,
When apples hang above the orchard wall,
And from a tangle by the roadside stream
A scent of wild grapes fills the racy air,
Comes Autumn with her sunburnt caravan,
Like a long gypsy train with trappings gay
And tattered colors of the Orient,

Moving slow-footed through the dreamy hills.
The woods of Wilton, at her coming, wear
Tints of Bokhara and of Samarcand;
The maples glow with their Pompeian red,
The hickories with burnt Etruscan gold;
And while the crickets fife along her march,
Behind her banners burns the crimson sun.

JONAS AND MATILDA

THE CONTRIBUTORS' CLUB

THEY were English, and their names were Jonas and Matilda; not their real names, of course, for though one often writes of real individuals, it is the custom to give them fictitious names. In this case I am obliged to use fictitious names, for though this couple lived next door to me for two seasons, I never found out their true names; so, in order to discuss their affairs in the privacy of my family, I christened them Jonas and Matilda. Their dwelling was not over twenty feet from my sittingroom window. It was quite old, but had never before, to my knowledge, been occupied; and when, one April morning, I saw a couple inspecting it with the evident intention of making it their residence if it proved satisfactory, I became much interested in the prospect of new neighbors.

I was somewhat of an invalid that spring, or thought I was, which is much the same thing, as all physicians can testify, and as I could neither read nor work long at a time, I welcomed the advent of the newcomers as a pleasant break in watching the clock for medicine hours.

Several visits were made before the couple decided to make the place their local habitation, and I had my couch drawn close to the window, where, behind the friendly screen of the muslin curtains, I could see with