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THE GUIDE TO NATURE 



real nature spirit, and a longing tu fol- 

 low in that direction, as does this let- 

 ter from Mrs. Gulick. 1 he Aloha 

 Lamps are on the right trail. They are 

 in nature, not merely near nature. iMay 

 they live long and prosper, and every- 

 where increase their good intiuence. 



Dealing with Nature through Neces- 

 sity. 



For years we have pleaded through 

 the pulpit and the Sunday school for a 

 nearness to nature. The motto of The 

 Agassiz Association is "Per Naturam 

 ad Deum." 



hor years we have pleaded for nature 

 as a factor in education. School author- 

 ities and teachers have been urged to 

 make nature a part of the curriculum. 



But who would have thought that 

 the great World War, and the absence 

 of vegetables from the cellar, would 

 turn the thoughts of people everywhere 

 to good old Mother Nature? She has 

 given her children an awful spanking 

 to make them love her more and to ap- 

 preciate her better. What our eulogies 

 of her beauties, what the enthusiasm 

 of the poet has failed to do, the kitchen 

 and the pocketbook are now going to 

 do. The cry everywhere is, "Plant 

 something, even if it is only a hill of 

 potatoes." We are creatures of the 

 earth though we often slap Mother 

 Nature in the face or turn away from 

 her with pathetic indifference ; but she 

 is bringing us back home and draw- 

 ing attention everywhere to seeds, fer- 

 tilizers, growing plants and the plow. 

 Every community should see to it that 

 practical nature study lessons are now 

 taught regularly. 



Greenwich and Stamford have organ- 

 ized associations to cooperate with the 

 farm bureau to develop every inch of 

 land, and every lover of school gardens 

 is shouting, "Hurrah !" At last, the 

 parents are bringing pressure to bear 

 ui)on the teachers to have the children 

 devote some attention to corn, beans, 

 potatoes, even if they do happen to for- 

 get the name of some little village in 

 Madagascar, some river in South Amer- 

 ica, and what is the chief occupation in 

 Central Africa. The question has come, 

 "What are you going to do right here 

 in Stamford and Greenwich for vege- 

 tables for the table? That is real, prac- 



tical nature study. One cannot grow a 

 hill of potatoes without learning some- 

 thing about Mother Nature's ways. As 

 the corn grows aloft, one's knowledge 

 of our greatest grass plant cannot but 

 increase. 



Three cheers for old Mother Nature ! 

 For allies we now have all the fighting 

 nations of the world and all the neu- 

 trals that are supplying food to those 

 nations and themselves. 



Snow in April. 



BY CAROLINE CLARK HINTON, ATLANTA, GA. 



O'er everything is spread 

 A garment soft and white, 

 'Tis winter's last good-bye 

 Before her northern flight. 



The air is misty warm, 

 The sun is welcoming Spring, 

 The tears of winter cause 

 The brooklet's voice to sing. 



April's Woodland. 



BY C. R. PIETY, SCOTTSBURG, IND. 



I wandered through a woodland fair 



Upon an April's day; 

 That Nature's garb was grand or rare 



Is not enough to say. 



The earth was gowned in velvet green. 



The sky in silk so blue. 

 The sun wore mail of golden sheen. 



And seemed a-wooing too. 



He kissed the wild-flowers, little fays. 

 That dwell in glade and glen; 



They danced about with pretty rays, 

 And perfume proffered him. 



He lavished gold on stream and lake; 



The wavelets gleamed with glee, 

 And vapor gave with which to make 



Some cloudlets fair and free. 



He smiled on song-bird= ard thev sang 

 With all their might and main, 



And hill and vale and wildwood rang 

 With the sweet ecstatic strain. 



He caused the stately forest kings 



To put on toggery proud. 

 And all the war}^ woodland things 



To laugh and talk out loud; 



The breeze their messenger they made 



To bear the news so gay, 

 And o'er the hill and through the glade 



He rushed the live-long day. 



Oil pretty scenes that ne'er knew paints. 



Oh poetry unpenned, 

 And sweet songs sung by woodland saints, 



Ye are God's gifts unfeigned. 



