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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!

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

A GOOD BEGINNING

BY JANET SHEPPARD (AGE II)
(Silver Badge)

BETSY was working in her garden. The sun was hot, and her back was tired, but she persevered, for her father had said that he would bring back from the city a lot of rose-bushes, and if she had her garden in good condition, she should have one. He was coming back this very day, so Betsy was very anxious.

Her garden was not large, but the beautiful order in which it was kept added greatly to its charm. There were pansies, violets, roses, and Betsy's special pride was a bed of old-fashioned pinks. This was in its glory just now, and Betsy hoped that the sight of his favorite flower in such profusion, with not a weed to hinder its growth, would help to induce her father to give her the rose-bush.

She rose slowly, for even ten-year-old backs will get tired stooping so long, and as she looked down the driveway and out to the road, she saw her father's carriage slowly approaching. She flew to get dressed, and when she came down-stairs, she found her father quite ready to go with her.

Betsy led the way with a mixture of pride and fear to her little plot. The roses nodded at her as if glad to welcome their sweet mistress, and the pinks seemed to say, "Come and kiss us, for you are one of us."

Betsy's father did not say all he felt, but praised her for her care, and said she might have the rose-bush. Years afterward, little Betsy became a famous maker and planner of gardens, so while the work in the garden seemed all for the sake of a rose-bush, it really was a good beginning for much greater things.

A GOOD BEGINNING BY MARY FROST (AGE 11) (Silver Badge)

THE night passed on. The stars faded; faint streaks of light were seen on the eastern horizon. The mountain turned purple; gray clouds about it became pink, illumined with the light of the coming sun. Heavenly perfumes of the first wild flowers floated in the air. Even the noble pines and firs, at the base of the mountain, seemed to

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lose their blackness and become lighted by the magnificent glory of the rising sun. The eternal snow at the top of the mountain turned pink, then red. The rocks and

boulders seemed to be on fire. The waving fields of barley and wheat, in the valley, became a sea of living green moved gently by the summer breeze. A nightingale's song was floated by the breeze into the valley, over the fabled mountain, and beyond, to the blue, blue sea.

"CURIOSITY." BY ESTHER R. HARRINGTON, AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.)

The golden shafts of the sun shone through the clouds. The misty mountains on the opposite side of the valley looked hazy and blue in the distance. The

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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. HILL (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.

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.

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. will help you."

I

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.

A GOOD BEGINNING

BY ELISABETH HAERLE (AGE 13)
(Gold Badge)

LAST Summer, when I lived in the country, I learned to know a splendid way of beginning a clear day of early summer. I would get up long before breakfast, and hurry out-of-doors into my woodland. Any place is beautiful in the freshness of the morning, but my wood

"A HEADING FOR OCTOBER." BY LILY KING WESTERVELT, AGE 15.

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

A FAIRY MESSAGE

BY PAULINE P. WHITTLESEY (AGE 13) (Gold Badge)

A TINY fairy messenger
Before a spider stood,

The former clothed in Lincoln green,

And on his head a hood.

"I come from Mab," he said, "the queen Who holds court in the wood.

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"She wishes you to weave for her, Upon the meadow green, Three beautiful pavilions,

Full rich in silv'ry sheen.

And make these palaces with care,

Fit for the fairy queen.

"And gather at the dawn of day,
Dewdrops of crystal pure,
Make them the very prettiest
That you, sir, can secure.
Hang them about the palaces,

And that they 're fine, be sure."

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.

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

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 flew away to find it.

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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 southwest 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

A HEADING FOR OCTOBER." BY ETHEL F. FRANK, AGE 11.

fer it good 'n' plenty a while ago. Never saw the sky look so threatin'."

"I 'gree with ye, Jake; it was a good beginnin' sure enough, but it kinder petered out."

"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' thunder-storms."

"Neither am I, but when it acted so sort o' queer and shifted ter the sou'west, I says ter myself, 'Now ain't that the way with some people; they make er lot of fuss and bluster 'bout what they kin do, an' then they jes' sort o' fizzle an' go out." And after a few more words, the two old moralists passed on.

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A GOOD BEGINNING
BY MURIEL W. AVERY (AGE 17)
(Honor Member)

THERE have recently been organized, in nearly every city, civic improvement societies, for the purpose of cleaning up and beautifying those cities. Parks are laid out, trees planted, and disfiguring bill-boards torn down.

64 FASHIONS." BY MIRIAM A. GERSTLE, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)

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 was my surprise, when, reaching the foot-bridge, I looked below to where the water, gurgling, slipped between the stones,-no, 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 contributed his portion, and, since "example is

"FASHIONABLE." BY FLORENCE FISK, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)

powerful," every one had followed suit.

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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

nicker, "Pick up after yourself." And cannot we, the young people of America, help to save these woods we have enjoyed, and, with that motto, give this new movement a good beginning?

THE MESSENGER

BY EDITH SHAW (AGE 13)
(Silver Badge)

HIGH in the heavens the sun shone down
With a scorching heat and strong,

But ever across the rolling heath,

The messenger sped along.

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And ever he turned to north and south,

And ever to east and west;

Though never a creature met his eye, His horse he faster pressed.

So many a weary hour he rode,
And never slacked his speed,
Till by a bubbling spring he stopped,
And there refreshed his steed.

But now the sun was sinking fast
Amid its western glow;

The messenger spurred hard his horse,
And sighed and muttered low.

And when the sun had disappeared, And birds had ceased to sing, There rode into the market square The messenger of the king.

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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
Jalie E. Neville
Nathan W. Wilensky
Eugenia Towle
Dorothy Reynolds
Grace Hirsch
Vernon P. Williams
John B. Hyatt, Jr.
Rosalind P. Bigelow
Cornelia Tucker
Marjorie Scudder
Leah Rosetti
Eliza A. Peterson
Helen C. Briggs
Marian E. Manley
Alison Hastings

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