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GOODLY host one day was mine,

A Golden Apple his only sign,

That hung from a long branch, ripe and fine.

My host was the bountiful apple tree;
He gave me shelter and nourished me
With the best of fare all fresh and free.

And light-winged guests came not a few,
To his leafy inn and sipped the dew,
And sang their best songs ere they flew.

I slept at night on a downy bed
Of moss, and my host benignly spread
His own cool shadow over my head.

When I asked what reckoning there might be
He shook his broad boughs cheerily :-
A blessing be thine green Apple Tree!

JOHANN LUDWIG UHLAND

(Translation of Thomas Westwood)

THE TREE

HE Tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown;

THE

"Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down. "No, leave them alone

Till the blossoms have grown,"

Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.

The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung;
"Shall I take them away?" said the Wind as he swung.
"No, leave them alone

Till the berries have grown,"

Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.

The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow;

Said the girl, "May I gather thy berries now?"

"Yes, all thou canst see;

Take them all are for thee,"

Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.

BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON

BIRDS IN SUMMER

HOW pleasant the life of a bird must be,

Flitting about in each leafy tree;
In the leafy trees so broad and tall,
Like a green and beautiful palace hall,
With its airy chambers light and boon,

That open to sun and stars and moon;
That open to the bright blue sky,

And the frolicsome winds as they wander by.

They have left their nests on the forest bough;
Those homes of delight they need not now;
And the young and the old they wander out,
And traverse their green world round about;
And hark! at the top of this leafy hall,
How one to the other in love they call!
"Come up! come up!" they seem to say,
"Where the topmost twigs in the breezes sway.

Come up! come up! for the world is fair Where the merry leaves dance in the summer air.” And the birds below give back the cry,

"We come, we come to the branches high."

How pleasant the lives of the birds must be,

Living in love in a leafy tree!

And away through the air what joy to go,

And to look on the green, bright earth below!

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Skimming about on the breezy sea,

Cresting the billows like silvery foam,
Then wheeling away to its cliff-built home!
What joy it must be to sail, upborne

By a strong free wing, through the rosy morn!
To meet the young sun face to face,

And pierce like a shaft the boundless space;

To pass through the bowers of the silver cloud;
To sing in the thunder halls aloud;

To spread out the wings for a wild, free flight
With the upper cloud winds-oh, what delight!
Oh, what would I give like a bird, to go
Right on through the arch of a sunlit bow,

And see how the water drops are kissed
Into green and yellow and amethyst!

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Wherever it listeth there to flee;

To go when a joyful fancy calls,
Dashing adown 'mong the waterfalls;

Then to wheel about with their mates at play,
Above and below and among the spray,
Hither and thither, with screams as wild
As the laughing mirth of a rosy child!

What joy it must be, like a living breeze,
To flutter about 'mid the flowering trees;
Lightly to soar, and to see beneath
The wastes of the blossoming purple heath,
And the yellow furze, like fields of gold,
That gladdened some fairy region old!
On the mountain tops, on the billowy sea,
On the leafy stems of a forest tree,
How pleasant the life of a bird must be !

MARY HOWITT

NOW

AN OLD-FASHIONED SCHOOL

"In good old Colony times

When we lived under the king."

OW imagine yourselves, my children, in Master Ezekiel Cheever's schoolroom. It is a large, dingy room, with a sanded floor, and is lighted by windows that turn on hinges and have little diamond-shaped panes of glass. The scholars sit on long benches, with desks before them. At one end of the room is a great fireplace, so very spacious that there is room enough for three or four boys to stand in each of the chimney corners. This was the good old fashion of fireplaces when there was wood enough in the forests to keep people warm without their digging into the bowels of the earth for coal.

room.

It is a winter's day when we take our peep into the schoolSee what great logs of wood have been rolled into the fireplace, and what a broad, bright blaze goes leaping up the chimney! And every few moments a vast cloud of smoke is puffed into the room, which sails slowly over the heads of the scholars, until it gradually settles upon the walls and ceiling. They are blackened with the smoke of many years already.

Next look at the master's big armchair! It is placed in the most comfortable part of the room, where the generous glow of the fire is sufficiently felt without being too intensely hot. The old schoolmaster is stately and dignified, and