KECREA riO AT. 



2*5 



be safe to shoot; but Spence's hand lies 

 heavily on my arm. The old fellow has 

 read my thoughts. 



Now they're moving off, and we'll lose 

 that shot sure. Then Spence whispers, 



" Hit him back of the wing; a little low 

 down. Now stand up and give it to him! " 

 And we leap up. The swans flap and rise 

 and the guns bark once — twice! " Missed? 

 They're all off! No; the old one is swim- 

 ming.'" Out of the blind I tumbled, and 

 after him, through the water, I rushed. On 

 swam the bird, and I chasing. There he 

 tries to fly. Now on him! Only a broken 

 wing and a shattered thigh as I lift him up. 



What a beauty he is! Snow white and 

 a very large one! How heavy he is and 

 how tired I am when I get to the blind, 

 wet through and through; and it is 2 

 o'clock. 



We ate our lunch like savages, and 

 Spence began to wish for the boat to come 

 after us. The weather had settled thick 

 and stormy, and it was going to be nasty. 



Spence's heart was full of worry for the, 

 decoys; and really I shared in his anxiety 

 when the boys came through the water 

 towing the decoy coop and we began to 

 hurry, for Spence was weatherwise and it 

 was well to heed. 



There were 26 geese and one swan! Then 

 when we were fairly under way, in the skiff, 

 the weather was upon us. It was dusk 

 when we reached the club house, where we 

 found our friends; and the sum of their 

 sport was as nothing, compared to mine; 

 but when the swan was brought in, 3 pairs 

 of eyes filled with tears that had no pity 

 for me, and viciously flashed in indignation 

 when Jack ordered a bottle of wine to cele- 

 brate the swan! 



" At least," said my fair champion, " luck 

 was with us," and to the others she said, 

 " You don't know good fortune when it 

 meets you! " 



All of which was true! The swan, a noble 

 specimen, hangs on the wall of my dining- 

 room. 



RECREATION. 



BETH DAY. 



To be up in the morning early, as day be- 

 gins to dawn, 



When the dew lies cool and rayless over 

 the silent lawn; 



When not a breeze has wakened to ruffle 

 the sleeping lake, 



When birds in the topmost branches are 

 the only ones awake; 



To drink of the air of morning — a full, deep 

 draught — that brings 



A Lethean peace for trouble, and a thou- 

 sand cankering things; 



To feel lost youth returning, till the swift 

 glad pulses reel, 



As the level miles flow backward from un- 

 der the gliding wheel; 



When the pale, wan moon is fading, out of 



the brightening sky; 

 When the sleeping flocks in the farmyards, 



or else in the pastures lie; 

 When the air is fresh and fragrant with 



scents from the orchard trees, 

 And the hint of blossoming roses is waking 



the honey bees; 



To leave all care behind one; to be free as 

 the birds that fly. 



To be kin to the world of nature, to the 

 earth, and air, and sky: 



With the blood of some wild creature danc- 

 ing in every vein, 



And the peace and beauty of morning 

 blooming in heart and brain; 



To traverse the meadow, the upland, the 

 forest, the valley, the hill, 



The ocean, the lake, and the river, the rap- 

 ids, the brook, and the rill; 



All the year round, in the winter, the spring, 

 the summer and fall, 



Ah! this is true recreation, the best rec- 

 reation of all. 



