ning to think he was forgetting how to 

 tell time by the sun, when we at last 

 returned to the plowing. 



"What do you think they were doing?" 

 I asked of Joe, who prided himself on 

 knowledge which came of his two added 

 years. 



"Why, 'twas a wedding, stupid ! 

 Couldn't you see that the old crow was 

 the minister and that he married the 

 young crows?" 



In the years since I have never met 

 but one man who had seen the same 

 thing, and he was an old farmer in Ver- 

 mont, and he agreed with Joe's idea that 

 the event was a wedding. 



Alas for childish ideas ! As we grow 

 older, Science, who steals our imagina- 

 tion, takes many things from us, and 

 among the first, we learn that with civiliz- 

 ation have come customs, forms, rites 

 and ceremonies ; the birds and the beasts 

 know not the joys of birthday parties and 

 wedding feasts. 



So, although this is a true story, the 

 name I have given it does not apply; 

 but, as I have never been able to discover 

 just what the old crow said to his little 

 flock, I have clung to my first childish 

 impression, and called it "The Crows' 



W T edding." 



Dorothy Lord Maltby. 



BACK TO THE WOODLANDS. 



Back to the woodlands again I must go, 

 For I hear sweet Spring calling me there ; 



Back to the trees and the soft grass below 

 That waves in the light balmy air. 



How can I tarry, how can I stay, 

 When I hear that voice calling to me ? 



I must off to the woods where the tiny birds play, 

 There I'm happy as happy can be. 



I sit on the grass in the cool flitting breeze 



That frolics around in delight ; 

 I follow the paths on along through the trees 



Till they lead me far on, out of sight. 



Oh woods how I love thee, thy trees and thy brooks 



And all' the sweet things that I see ! 

 How I'd like to live here in thy cool, shady nooks, 



Where I'm happy as happy can be ! 



their songs bright and gay, 



The birds overhead sin 



The stream murmurs on at my feet 

 And all of my troubles and cares pass away, 



To be replaced by thoughts good and sweet 



Oh! cities arc beautiful, buildings arc grand. 



But God's woodlands are greater to me 

 Willi their trees and their flowers by summer winds fanned. 



There I'm happy as happy can be. 



S VMUEL O. GlLMAN. 



