in spite of her great loss, the child had 

 to laugh. When she told her father 

 about it, he comforted her as well as he 

 could by saying that he would write to 

 her aunt, explaining the facts about her 

 loss and requesting her to buy another 

 doll and send it out to the little girl. 

 One could not buy such a doll in India at 

 that time, even if one had unlimited 

 money. Many weary months elapsed in 

 which the child daily thought of her 

 lovely dolly being nursed by a lot of 



Monkeys. It was seen by different peo- 

 ple several times afterwards, and it was 

 always in a Monkey's arms, appearing 

 more battered looking every time. At 

 length, on one ever memorial day, a box 

 was left at the station for little Miss 

 Tucker, which contained a doll even 

 more splendid than the last one. 



She assured me that she never by any 

 chance ever laid that doll down out of 

 doors, even for one moment, for she 

 feared the Monkeys. 



Phoebe A. Naylor. 



DREAM-GATHERING. 



I have been gathering dreams today 



Over wood and fallow, 

 From the marsh-land's gold and the sky-land's gray 



From aster and mallow. 



One from the trumpet-bloom was blown 



Like a drift of glory. 

 One fell sweet from the mock-bird's tone, 



Of love 'twas a story. 



One in the windrowed bay hid warm. 



Mid murmurs of reaping, 

 Came one from the startled storm 



Up the cold west creeping. 



v* 



v*v 



Nestled within my heart they lie 



Like swallows awaiting 

 Call to a zephyrous soft sky 



After summer mating. 



— Cale Young Rice. 



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