FOURTH WEEK] June 171 



a night on the Bay of Fundy an experience to be always 

 remembered. 



Like the tints on a crescent sea beach 



When the moon is new and thin, 

 Into our hearts high yearnings 



Come welling and surging in 

 Come, from the mystic ocean, 



Whose rim no foot has trod 

 Some of us call it longing, 



And others call it God. 



W. H. CARRUTH. 



JELLY-FISH. 



