362 



THE GUIDE TO NATURE 



add, to continue or to enlarge its scope 

 of nature interest, this magazine will 

 gladly help in any way in its power. 

 Some camps must sooner or later at 

 least approach a little nearer to nature 

 study or they will fall under the con- 

 demnation of public sentiment ; they 

 cannot take young people into the 

 realms of nature in name only. These 

 are days of efficiency, of antagonism 

 to the merely artificial ; they demand 

 genuine honesty of purpose. If a camp 

 in wild nature is not to do something: 

 with nature, then in the opinion of the 

 editor of this magazine and of all other 

 nature lovers it has small excuse for 

 its location ; it is not rising to the 

 height of its full privileges ; it may as 

 well be situated in the heart of any 

 city. 



"Sugar" Bound Boat. 



Indian Harbor, Greenwich Connec- 

 ticut. 



March 22, 1918. 

 To the Editor: 



While there may have been a scar- 

 city of cane and beet sugar of late, you 

 will notice from the enclosed snapshot 



that there has been no scarcity of 

 "Jack Frost Sugar" at Indian Harbor 

 this winter. In fact, so abundant was 

 the supply that you can see the old 

 Oneida in the background completely 



sugar" bound. 



TosEpii D. Curj.ev. 



The Advent of Spring. 



BY ROBERT SPARKS WALKER, CHATTANOOGA, 

 TENNESSEE. 



"J" is gone, 't is gone,— old Winter now has 



passed away, 

 No more the snowflakes fall when silent 



skies are gray; 

 And like a little child from country school 



set free, 



The earth conies laughing forth in gushing 

 jubilee. 



The air is ringing with the bluebird's mer- 

 ry note, 



The sunbeams flicker on the dandelion's 

 throat; 



THE DARING WATERCRESS GOES WADING DOWN THE 

 BROOK." 



And buttercups and bluets deftly dot the 



ground, — 

 A thousand fairy spirits welcome Spring 



has found! 



The daring watercress goes wading down 



the brook, 

 Where silver minnows swim and stare in 



questful look; 

 The tender grass-blades bend to kiss the 



waves below, 

 And buttonballs record the bonny breeze's 



blow. 



The rippling stream awakes the slumber- 

 land with song, 



And joyful creatures pass the tuneful peals 

 along, 



To birds and bees by pasture-path and 

 and lilied-lane, 



And mellow notes echo from distant hills 

 again! 



Upon the horizon the vernal tints appear, 



Elysian scents are they that balmy breezes 

 bear; 



And in the midst of gladness that the sea- 

 son brings, 



The soul takes up the songs that Nature 

 softly sings! 



