AT BAY. 

 One of the 5th Prize Winners in Recreation's 7tli Annual Photo Competition. 



A SONG OF THE HILLS. 



R. S. STRINGFELLOW. 



I know a place far back in the hills, 

 'Mid the waving trees and the winding rills, 

 Where the wild rose blooms and the violets 



hide 

 In the soft, green grass of the mountain 



side; 



A spot where the wind, so fierce and wild, 

 Stays its gusty course, and blows soft and 



mild ; 

 Its shrill voice hushed in the evening's calm 

 With sighings low as an angel's psalm. 



I know a place where the carols sweet 

 Of the song birds echo in their retreat; 

 Where the pine trees murmur a sylvan song, 

 And drowsily passes the day along. 



And back in the hills is a maid I know, 

 With soft, red cheeks, like the flowers that 



blow ; 

 The violet's blue is in her eyes. 

 Which are bright and clear as the Western 



skies. 



Then off with the frowns of care and gloom, 



And away to the hills, where the wild flow- 

 ers bloom ; 



For the joys of youth and health will be 

 ours 



As long as we live 'mid the hills and flowers. 



AMATEU* PHOTOS BY WM. H. FISHER. 



BARELY ABLE TO FLY. 

 One of the 5th Prize Winners in Recreation's 

 7th Annual Prize Competition. 

 Made with a Century Camera, Collinear Lens. 



A close friend is one who declines to 

 lend you money. — Yonkers Statesman. 



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