was just as rampant as ever when stran- 

 gers came near. Xo visitors wanted 

 there at all now — too busy ; can't be 

 bothered. Any foreigner showing too 

 much familiarity is driven away in a 

 hurry. 



But when the children were old enough 



to take care of themselves Father Stick- 

 leback was greatly changed. Eight 

 weeks after our first visit he was just as 

 gentle as could be. He no longer felt 

 suspicious of every passerby, but led a 

 comfortable and happy life. 



Elizabeth Roberts Burton. 



JUNE ROSES. 



Did you think, when the earth lay frozen and snow-bound 



And sleety winds trampled the plain, 

 That nothing but sad things was left, while the glad things 



Would never come back again? 

 But look at the roses, in every color 



That to a June rose belongs ! 

 Rel roses, gold roses, pink roses, white roses, 



All coming, in squadrons and throngs. 



Did you think, when the rivers were hushed under cover 



Of ice, shining glassy and clear, 

 That never could anything — man, bird or flower — 



Come out into sunshine and cheer? 

 Xow look at the roses in riotous beauty, 



Their fragrance on every breeze ! 

 June roses, fresh roses, fair roses, gay roses, 



Alluring their lovers, the bees. 



Did you think that because your heart mourned in anguish 



A beautiful love time fled, 

 You never would, never could, feel joy or gladness, 



That hope and ambition were dead ? 

 Xow laugh at the sighing that darkened your life so ; 



Be hopeful, take courage, and — stay ! 



Remember fresh roses, fair roses, rare roses, 



Will come every June-time, alway. 



— Belle A. Hitchcock. 



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