My steed, dog, and gun, and the cheerful lark,
To carol my morning song.
THE SYLPHS OF THE SEASONS
WHAT IS LIFE?
BY MARY M. CHASE.
One sunshiny afternoon, a little girl sat in a wood playing with moss and stones. She was a pretty child; but there was a wishful, earnest look in her eye, at times, that made people say, "She is a good little girl; but she won't live long." But she did not think of that to-day, for a fine western wind was shaking the branches merrily above her head, and a family of young rabbits that lived near by kept peeping out to watch her motions. She threw bread to the rabbits from the pockets of her apron, and laughed to see them eat. She laughed, also, to hear the wild, boisterous wind shouting among the leaves, and then she sang parts of a song that she had imperfectly learned—
"Hurrah for the oak! for the brave old oak,
That hath ruled in the greenwood long!"