176 



AMERICAN FORESTRY 



"Mebbe, but then the world was 

 younger an' folks was livelier in those 

 days. Seems to me that nobody of any 

 consequence had any work to do; no- 

 body wanted to get rich ; soon as you 

 corralled anything^ you blew it in." 



"I suppose that went on for ages, 

 everybody having a good time, till the 

 land wore out and the timber was cut 

 and the game all gone, and the whole 

 thing badly wrecked and tangled up 

 with thieves and loafers on top. Prob- 

 ably that's why people have to work so 

 hard now, and so many things are all 

 wrong. I must say I don't admire those 

 happy-go-lucky fighters. Somebody al- 

 ways pays for their keep." 



This last ranger, who was grizzled 

 and worn with the cares of life, rose 



and rolled the camp-fire logs together, 

 and sat down in silence. A little of his 

 idea filtered through the minds of the 

 youngest rangers and shone in their 

 eyes. Through some strange process of 

 thought, broken fragments of stories 

 they had gathered up here and there, so 

 full of blunders, so curiously tangled 

 and transformed, had, nevertheless, left 

 in their minds some sense of the reali- 

 ties of life. They could not put it into 

 words, but they saw that always, since 

 the world of men began, some things 

 lasted and others perished. 



'T guess," said one, as he began 

 to roll up in his blankets, "that decent 

 fellows have always had to work hard 

 at something. Mostly, too. it's better 

 fun than the other way." 



NIGHT IN THE WINTER WOODS 



Rank after rank the patient trees 



Rise up against the sky, 

 Strange voices whisper in the breeze 



That sways their heads on high. 



Beneath Ues silence, robed in white. 



Broad billows like the sea, 

 Her garments all with gems alight. 



That gleam mysteriously — 



The world of men, and all it holds 



Of care, is far aways 

 Here's naught but peace, the night enfolds 



To hide the scars of day. 



— J. B. Carrington in Outing 



