THE DEAD CAMP-FIRE 



incoming at nightfall and the rekindling 

 of the fire, when the rosy bud of sleeping 

 embers suddenly expanded into a great 

 blossom of light whose petals quivered 

 and faded and brightened among the en- 

 circling shadows of the woods. You 

 laugh again at the jokes that ran around 

 that merry circle and wonder again and 

 again at the ingenuity with which small 

 performances were magnified into great 

 exploits, little haps into strange adven- 

 ture, and with which bad shots and poor 

 catches were excused. 



At last came breaking camp, the deso- 

 lation of dismantling and leave-taking. 

 How many of you will ever meet again ? 

 How many of those merry voices are 

 stilled forever, from how many of those 

 happy faces has the light of life faded ? 



Who lighted this camp-fire? Years 

 have passed since it illumined the nightly 

 gloom of the woods, for moss and lichens 

 are creeping over the charred back-log. 

 A green film is spread over the ashes, 

 and thrifty sprouts are springing up 

 through them. 



You know that the campers were tent- 

 dwellers, for there stand the rows of 

 165 



