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the little apple-tree, and asks, "Now don't you wish your beginning had n't been so good, and you were like us now?"

The little apple-tree does not answer. She is not thinking of the beauty, but of the usefulness of the orchard. She thinks of the good fruit the orchard has been able to give man because of the beautiful blossoms, and she knows a good beginning is best.

TO A MESSENGER
BY BRUCE T. SIMONDS (AGE 16)

(Honor Member)
CARRIER-PIGEON, carrier-pigeon,

Bird with never weary wings,
Hither to my airy casement,

Where the ancient ivy clings;
While the eastern sky is flaming,
Fly,—to whom, no need of naming ;
Where the lattice, twined with roses,
Half conceals her, half exposes,
As she watches for this greeting
All my former vows repeating,
Borne by thee, O carrier-pigeon ;

Hasten with unwearied wings!

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Carrier-pigeon, carrier-pigeon,

Art thou back so soon, with wings
Still unwavering, still unwearied,

Strong for greater, harder things?
Hast thou nothing, then, to leave me?
Ah! thou couldst not thus deceive me!
There I see the dainty token,
She is true,-our love unbroken;
Naught can part us now, but ever
She will hear my words, and never
Shalt thou fail to fly, O pigeon,

Back and forth, on willing wings !

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A GOOD BEGINNING
BY MARY FROST (AGE 11)

(Silver Badge)
FASHIONABLE." BY MARGARET L. AYER, AGE 17.
(SILVER BADGE.)

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The night passed on. The stars faded ; faint streaks of

light were seen on the eastern horizon. The mountain A GOOD BEGINNING

turned purple; gray clouds about it became pink, il

lumined with the light of the coming sun. Heavenly BY JANET SHEPPARD (AGE II)

perfumes of the first wild flowers floated in the air. (Silver Badge)

Even the noble pines and firs, at the base of the mounBetsy was working in her garden. The sun was hot, tain, seemed to and her back was tired, but she persevered, for her lose their blackfather had said that he would bring back from the city ness and become a lot of rose-bushes, and if she had her garden in good lighted by

the condition, she should have one. He was coming back magnificent glory this very day, so Betsy was very anxious.

of the rising sun. Her garden was not large, but the beautiful order in The eternal snow which it was kept added greatly to its charm. There at the top of the were pansies, violets, roses, and Betsy's special pride mountain

turned was a bed of old-fashioned pinks. This was in its pink, then red. glory just now, and Betsy hoped that the sight of his The rocks and favorite flower in such profusion, with not a weed to

boulders

seemed hinder its growth, would help to induce her father to to be on fire. The give her the rose-bush.

waving fields of She rose slowly, for even ten-year-old backs will get barley and wheat, tired stooping so long, and as she looked down the in the valley, bedriveway and out to the road, she saw her father's car- came a sea of liyriage slowly approaching. She flew to get dressed, and ing green moved when she came down-stairs, she found her father quite gently by the sumready to go with her.

mer breeze. A Betsy led the way with a mixture of pride and fear nightingale's song to her little plot. The roses nodded at her as if glad to was floated by the welcome their sweet mistress, and the pinks seemed to breeze into

the say, “Come and kiss us, for you are one of us."

valley,

the Betsy's father did not say all he felt, but praised her fabled mountain, CURIOSITY.” BY ESTHER R. HARRINGTON, for her care, and said she might have the rose-bush. and beyond, to the

AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.) Years afterward, little Betsy became a famous maker blue, blue sea. and planner of gardens, so while the work in the garden The golden shafts of the sun shone through the seemed all for the sake of a rose-bush, it really was a clouds. The misty mountains on the opposite side of good beginning for much greater things.

the valley looked hazy and blue in the distance. The

over

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clouds grew yellow, red, orange,-and, lo! the sun was up in all his glory, shining above them.

Was this not a good beginning for a day?

A MESSAGE
BY IRMA A. JUILL (AGE 15)

(Honor Member) THROUGH all the night the storm had raged away,

Like some great dragon o'er the angry sea ;

And when the night had almost ceased to be, The heavy clouds hung threatening and gray. Then suddenly, beyond the waning night,

One tiny sunbeam smiled through mists so drear,

And shone and shone, a message of good cheer, Till once again the earth was filled with light.

But one day as she was walking along the street, she saw a sign on a piano store which read, “Come in and try our pianos.”

Sally, not knowing it was only for buyers, walked in, and as no one was around at that moment, sat down at a piano, and began to play.

She played very well by ear, and soon a great crowd of people massed about her to hear this beautiful music. She stopped suddenly in the middle of a piece, looked up, blushed, and then tried to get away.

But the owner of the store checked her, and drawing her on his knee, asked her if she liked music.

"I like it very much, sir, only all those people frighten me,” replied Sally, politely.

“But, my child, you play wonderfully," said Mr. Trainer, for that was his name. “Who teaches you? You must have a very capable teacher."

"Who teaches me?" said Sally, opening her eyes in amazement, "why, no one teaches me!”

“Nobody teaches you ! You have never had any lessons ? My dear little girl, you are the best child player in the world !” exclaimed Mr. Trainer. “But you need some instruction so that, when you grow older, you will reach a point where no one can outdo you. I will help you."

A music teacher was at once engaged for Sally, who worked earnestly for many years, and to-day Madame Sallina Minora, known before only as little Sally Minor, is a great musician, and very rich, famous throughout the world for her marvelous playing.

So then shines hope—a single golden beam

Of sunshine—though the storm is raging still ;

And when all else bows to the tempest's will, When clouds the gloomiest and darkest seem,

Undaunted, always there, through good and ill, Hope still shines on, a message and a gleam.

A GOOD BEGINNING

BY ELIZABETH JEANES (AGE 10) LITTLE Sally Minor loved music, but as her parents were too poor to buy a piano and pay for some lessons, she never got any musical education.

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So spoke the fairy messenger,

Then quickly went away; And each one of those castles fair

Was spun without delay. And you may see them if you look

At dawn on some warm day.

land especially so. My heart would sing for joy as I gazed around me, admiring the deep, clear, cool azure of the sky, watching the dew on the grass sparkle with rainbow hues, hearing the birds whistle with joy, and enjoying the green and gold symphony all around me, as the sun sifted its wealth through the branches of the trees. Oh, how fresh and invigorating was the air! How fragrant the wild roses, some of which had laid their golden hearts bare just to greet this morning!

"There never was such a beautiful world !” I would think, and such a thought is certainly a good one with which to begin a day. To see and appreciate beauty is always a good beginning for any day. And if the beauty is a sky-blue, crystal-clear, and golden morning in the woods, the glad memory of it will remain with

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"CURIOSITY.” BY REGINALD C. THORNHILL, AGE 16.

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A GOOD BEGINNING

BY LELIA L. DELAPLANE (AGE 15) One morning, a few days after the three young robins in the nest in the elm-tree had taken their first lessons in flying, Papa Robin decided that it was time for their singing lesson. He perched them in a row on a large branch, and took a seat opposite.

Each little robin sat perfectly still. Papa Robin opened his bill and gave a very easy little warble, and nodded to them to do it, too. All were perfectly still, so he patiently sang again, with no better results. A third and a fourth time he sang the little song, but in vain. A fifth time, and he became very much disgusted, and was just on the point of flying away to sooth his ruffled feelings, when suddenly a weak but very sweet little warble came from the throat of one small baby. Papa Robin was immediately puffed up with fatherly pride.

Eying his accomplished child, he seemed to say, "My dear son, a very good beginning indeed!

I am very proud of you.

You shall have the sweetest, juiciest worm to be found.” And he few away to find it.

one always, and brighten cheerless, gray days that may come afterward. But even these can be well begun by thinking beautiful or happy thoughts. Good beginnings of days lie in the heart, not in the beauty of things around us.

If I had not had gladness in my heart, the gladness of the morning would have been lost to me. To begin a day well one must feel beauty in the heart; and then one can truly appreciate whatever is beautiful that one sees or hears.

THE FAIRY MESSENGER
BY EDNA F. WOOD (AGE 15)

(Silver Badge)
O LITTLE, flashing firefly,
Flitter, flutter, guide me by,
Past the hornèd owl so grim,
Past the shadows, wavering dim.

each flash seemed nearer. Just as the people were expecting every next flash to be right overhead, the wind shifted suddenly to the southwest, and the black cloud changed its course, and went to the south west also.

A few hours after the cloud had passed from sight, two farmers, each on his way home, stopped their horses for a few moments' conversation about the peculiar movement of the storm that was not.

"I tell ye, Bill,” said the first, “I thought we was in

Lead me, by your tiny light,
Down the hill and through the night,
O'er the wall, until we come
To the mystic, fairy home.

Elves and fairies hurry here,
Guided by the lights so clear.
From the shadows comes the queen,
Sparkling in her satin green.

All the fireflies form a row,
Swaying, swinging, to and fro;
With the frogs, the cricket choir
Lift their voices, soaring higher.

Loved and honored, just and fair,
Queen of fairies, follow there,
Torches light her mossy way.

A HEADING FOR OCTOBER." BY ETHEL F. FRANK, AGE 11. Dance along, O sprites so gay.

fer it good 'n' plenty a while ago. Never saw the sky Thus they dance the long night through,

look so threatin'." Till the moon is pale in hue;

“I 'gree with ye, Jake ; it was a good beginnin' sure Till the fireflies' torches wane,

enough, but it kinder petered out.” And the owls wing home again.

"Jes' so, Bill. I ain't kickin' none, fer my hay won't

stand any rain jes' now, an' I ain't 'ticular fond o' thunA GOOD BEGINNING

der-storms."

"Neither am I, but when it acted so sort o' queer and BY DOROTHY M. ROGERS (AGE 17)

shifted ter the sou'west, I says ter myself, ‘Now ain't (Honor Member)

that the way with some people; they make er lot of fuss A HUGE pile of soft, snowy-looking clouds were fast and bluster 'bout what they kin do, an' then they jes' appearing over the northwestern horizon. Behind them sort o' fizzle an' go out.'” And after a few more words, came the fierce black thunder-cloud, looking ominous the two old moralists passed on. enough to daunt the bravest hearts. Distant rumbles of

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And when the sun had disappeared,

And birds had ceased to sing, There rode into the market square

The messenger of the king.

No. 1.

No. 2.

was

sur

In every case the result shows the worthiness of the undertaking. But there are places outside the city, beyond the reach of these organizations, that are fast losing their beauty, because of the carelessness of picnickers and campers.

Recently I visited one of the most beautiful glens in New England, one I had not seen for two years. Then, before it was connected by trolley-lines, it was a wild, woodsy place, frequented only by lovers of nature, who came either for the trout-fishing, up-stream, or to gather the trailing arbutus which grew abundantly there. Now I scarcely recognized it. Needless to say, the arbutus

was gone, torn up heedlessly by the roots, and scarcely one white birch stood unscarred. But greatest

my prise, when, reaching the foot-bridge, I looked below to where the water, gurgling, slipped between the stones,—no,

not stones

now, but picnic boxes, sardine cans, olive bottles, rusty tin cracker boxes, and every known receptacle for something to eat.

Naturally you ask who had come here? Picnics from the neighboring college towns; children and young people representing the most finely educated families in Massachusetts. Yet,

unconsciously, each had FASHIONABLE. BY FLORENCE FISK, AGE 15 (SILVER BADGE.) contributed his portion,

and, since "example is powerful,” every one had followed suit.

Surely something must be done to keep these places from being so defaced, and our duty revolves itself into four words, a phrase which fits the needs of every pic

THE ROLL OF HONOR A list of those whose work would have been nised had space permitted.

A list of those whose work entitles them to encouragement.
PROSE, 1
Elsie Terhune
Harriet W. McKim
Henry Pallatroni
Helen A. Douty
Wyatt Rushton
Helen M. Shoop
William W. Ladd
Katherine Guy
Frances D.

Pennypacker
Winifred S. Stoner, Jr.
Ruth B. Brewster
Mildred Furst
Martha H. Comer
Arthur H. Nethercot
Louise van B. Douglas
Nathaniel Dorfman
Dorothy May Russell
Joseph B. Kelly
Naomi Lauchheimer
Catherine F. Urell
Lucy M. Hodge
Aileen L. Lefler
Henry Ackerman
William Karl
Daniel Greene
Emily Goetzmann

“FASHIONABLE." BY CHRISTOBELL C. GUY,
Jalie E. Neville
Nathan W. Wilensky
Eugenia Towle
Dorothy Reynolds

Charlotte Chichester Mary C. Williams Grace Hirsch

J. Norman Klein Elizabeth Ziegenfelder Vernon P. Williams Thomas Stewart Frederika W. Hertel John B. Hyatt, Jr. Catherine Beck Janet E. Prentice Rosalind P. Bigelow Edith Townsend Rebekah B. Hoffman Cornelia Tucker Adelaide Noll Marjorie Scudder Margaret E. Beakes

PROSE, 2 Leah Rosetti

Elizabeth Macdonald Eliza A. Peterson Helen Roberts

Beatrix B. Newport Helen C. Briggs Marion M. Casey Meyer Fineberg Marian E. Manley Mary Van Fossen Helen B. Jones Alison Hastings

William L. Hawes Virginia Williams

AGE 14.

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