ALONG A TROUT-STREAM. 



" It is a spot beyond imagination 

 Delightful to the heart — where roses bloom 

 And sparkling fountains murmur ; where the earth 

 Is gay with many-colored flowers." — Firdausi. 



^L N ill man is walking down Broadway to his 



/^ office. Overworked for months, he shrinks 



/ ^ from the hard, practical duties of rushing 



modern business. The half-grown foliage of 



late May is on the trees in Bowling Green and Battery 



Park. Robins are calling to each other there. He 



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