268 



RECREATION. 



gan, but there all trace of them is lost. The 

 great lakes hold, in secret unrevealed, the 

 mystery of the Osakis' disapearance. They 

 were never heard of more. 



To-day, as the soft wind swings my ham- 

 mock back and forth beneath the modest 

 oaks on the point, I fancy I hear com- 

 ing to me from the lake, chanted by the 



rippling waves, a requiem for the souls let 

 loose at this same spot that awful night. 

 As I look on the mounds about me, which 

 mark the graves of fallen warriors who 

 gave up their lives fighting for what they 

 imagined right, I fain would call them 

 from the silent dust and let them tell the 

 tale instead of me. 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY MRS. W. N. MANCHESTER. 



AN AFTERNOON OFF. 



Highly commended in Recreation's Fifth Annual Photo Competition. 



A DAY IN FALL. 



CEDRIC HARLEY. 



Most poets sing of a day in spring. 



Of the budding flowers, and the birds that 



sing, 

 When the life of God's in everything. 

 But for me when I am out for fun, 

 A good old dog, and a good shot gun, 

 When the weather's fine on a day in fall 

 Are what I want, and they are all. 

 An early start, when the sun's just up, 

 With my pointer Carlo, the good old pup; 

 It's a joy to see him work and run — 

 He's as full of fire as the old shot gun; 



And when he settles down and stops 

 You're as sure of your bird as when it 



drops. • 

 Oh! the quails fly so fast on a day in fall 

 That it makes you think the life and all 

 That's gone from the flowers, and trees, 



and things 

 Are hid in the pesky critters' wings. 

 And oh, what pleasure to hear them call 

 Through the crisp, cool air of a day in 



fall! 



