9C4 
Tht  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
.Tune  RO, 
Boys  and  Girls 
By  Edward  M.  Tuttle 
We  don't  all  have  skill, 
But  we  work  with  a  will. 
Drawn  by  Affiles  Herglund  (lb  Years),  Michigan 
Memory  Verse 
JUNE 
O  queenly  month  of  indolent  repose! 
I  drink  thy  breath  in  sips  of  rare  per¬ 
fume, 
As  in  thy  downy  lap  of  clover-bloom 
I  nestle  like  a  drowsy  child  and  doze 
The  lazy  hours  away.  The  zephyr  throws 
The  shifting  shuttle  of  the  Summer’s 
loom. 
And  weaves  a  damask-work  of  gleam 
and  gloom 
Before  thy  listless  feet.  The  lily  blows 
A  bugle-call  of  fragrance  o’er  the  glade; 
And.  wheeling  into  ranks,  with  plume 
and  spear, 
Thy  harvest  armies  gather  on  parade  ; 
While  faint  and  far  away,  yet  pure 
and  clear, 
A  voice  calls  out  of  alien  lands  of 
shade : — 
“All  hail  the  Peerless  Goddess  of  the 
Year!” 
■ — JAMES  WHITCOMB  MEET. 
Sent  by  Dorothy  Vincent,  Pennsyl¬ 
vania. 
So  many  interesting  letters  have  come 
in  lately  that  I  am  going  to  start  right 
in  and  give  you  as  many  of  them  as  I  can 
on  Our  Page  this  month,  along  with  the 
Nature  Puzzles.  Book  Puzzles,  drawings 
and  other  things  we  always  have. 
From  a  High  School  Graduate 
As  I  was  a  graduate  of  a  large  high 
school  in  Louisiana  this  year,  1  am  going 
to  say  something  about  school.  There 
were  219  graduates,  two-thirds  being 
girls,  the  largest  graduating  class  in  the 
history  of  this  school.  The  girls  were 
all  dressed  in  white,  and  each  carried  a 
large  bouquet  of  roses  on  the  left  arm. 
The  boys  wore  white  trousers,  shoes  and 
dark  coats,  with  rosebuds  in  their  lapels. 
We  marched  into  the  auditorium  by  a 
selection  played  by  our  own  school  band. 
We  also  had  two  selections  played  by  the 
school  orchestra.  The  valedictorian  gave 
an  address  on  “Our  Tomorrows,”  the  sal- 
ntatorian  an  address  on  “Our  Yesterdays,” 
and  the  boy  winning  honors  for  the  high¬ 
est  average,  an  address  on  “Our  Todays.' 
There  were  six  pupils  receiving  honors 
for  the  highest  averages.  Three  medals 
were  given,  and  several  other  things. 
I  want  all  of  our  boys  and  girls  to 
know  that  an  education  is  never  a  loss, 
no  matter  what  you  become  or  do  after¬ 
wards.  Never  stop  going  to  school  before 
you  finish  unless  it  is  a  necessity.  Your 
school  days  are  the  happiest  days  of  your 
lives,  though  you  may  not  realize  it'at  the 
time.  Some  people  do  not  realize  what 
an  education  is  until  it.  is  too  late,  which 
I  hope  none  of  “our  boys  and  girls  will 
f]o.  EUGENIE  D AVIGNON. 
Louisiana. 
Eugenie  is  a  country  girl,  who  has  at¬ 
tended  high  school  in  a  city  of  about 
40.000  people  in  Northern  Louisiana.  You 
will  all  enjoy  her  description  of  their 
graduation  exercises,  and  think  over  what 
she  has  to  say  about  the  value  of  an  edu¬ 
cation.  It  seems  that  in  these  days  every 
boy  and  girl  who  can  possibly  do  so  ought 
to  complete  a  high  school  course.  That 
gives  one  a  good  start  in  life.  To  be 
sure,  if  we  are  wise  and  alert,  our  educa¬ 
tion  goes  on  after  we  leave  school,  and 
we  keep  on  learning  as  long  as  we  live. 
But  nothing  can  really  take  the  place  of 
the  school  training.  Your  editor  has 
thought  that  it  might  be  very  interesting 
and  worth  while  if  we  could  have  for  Our 
Page,  in  the  next  few  months,  some  let¬ 
ters  from  high  school  students  and  gradu¬ 
ates  which  would  tell  those  who  will  soon 
be  entering  high  school  for  the  first  time 
how  to  get  the  most  out  of  their  four-year 
course  in  all  around  growth  and  develop¬ 
ment.  Those  who  have  had  experience 
in  a  thing  can  always  see  more  clearly 
than  those  to  whom  the  experience  is  new. 
Suppose  you  had  a  chance  to  start  your 
course  over;  what  would  be  your  attitude 
toward  your  studies,  your  teachers,  your 
schoolmates,  the  school  activities,  athlet¬ 
ics.  social  events  and  all  the  things  that 
are  a  part  of  all  the  life  of  a  high  school 
student?  Your  thoughts  may  help  others 
to  make  a  stronger,  surer  start  than  you 
did.  Will  you  put  them  in  a  letter? 
A  California  Reader 
School  is  out.  My  brother  will  gradu- 
ate  from  grammar  school  this  evening 
(June  1).  I  am  promoted  from  the 
sixth  to  the  seventh  grade.  My  younger 
brother  is  promoted  from  the  fifth  to  the 
sixth  grade.  We  all  get  diplomas  for  be¬ 
ing  neither  absent  nor  tardy  and  for  good 
deportment. 
We  live  in  a  dairy  section  of  the  San 
Djego  River  Valley.  The  river  is  just 
dry  white  sand  now.  We  have  a  peach 
and  apricot  orchard;  also  Alfalfa.  We 
ship  milk  and  fruit  to  San  Diego.  We 
are  among  the  foothills.  A  pair  of  moun¬ 
tain  quail  and  about  10  or  12  little  ones 
come  down  to  the  house  and  feed  on  the 
mulberries.  Rabbit  fences  are  necessary 
to  keep  the  rabbits  from  eating  the  gar¬ 
dens.,  GRACE  KASTROM. 
California. 
Now  this  is  a  fine  example  of  how 
much  can  be  put  into  even  a  short  letter 
Drawn  in  Pencil  by  Paula  Hartfield, 
New  Hampshire 
from  a  younger  reader.  Grace  has  given 
us  a  real  picture  of  her  life  in  a  very 
few  words.  Other  readers  can  do  the 
same,  and  it  is  always  pleasant  to  learn 
about  different  parts  of  the  country.  Get 
out  your  maps  and  find  the  San  Diego 
Valley.  It  is  just  about  as  far  away  in 
the  United  States  as  it  could  be  from 
where  Our  Page  is  published,  isn’t  it? 
But,  near  or  far.  this  land  of  ours  is  full 
of  interesting  places  and  ways  of  living. 
I  am  sure  that  Grace  and  her  brothers 
have  earned  a  happy  vacation  by  their 
good  record  for  the  year  at  school. 
Verses 
Oh.  see  the  pretty  birdies  sweet 
As  they  go  fluttering  by. 
Their  little  song  of  tweet,  tweet,  tweet, 
Must  surely  reach  the  sky  ! 
I  found  a  lovely  violet  white, 
And  oh,  it  was  a  pretty  sight 
To  see  the  flower  nestled  down. 
It  looked  -as  if  it  wore  a  gown. 
By  evelyn  perry  (6  years). 
Maryland. 
Evelyn  is  a  little  reader,  but  she  has 
helped  Our  Page  along.  Her  letter  was 
written  in  her  own  handwriting,  and  she 
says  she  made  the  verses  up  herself. 
The  Humming  Bird 
Flashing  in  the  sunshine, 
Dashing  through  the  air, 
Sparkling  like  a  jewel, 
See  him  everywhere ! 
Poised  before  a  flower 
For  a  moment’s  space, 
Off  again  like  lightning 
On  some  headlong  chase! 
Blossoms  all  set  swinging 
On  each  slender  stem. 
Touch-me-nots  are  happy 
When  he  visits  them, 
For  he  shakes  the  pollen 
From  his  shining  crest; 
Rubythroat  is  joyous, 
Touch-me-not  is  blest ! 
Sent  by  alice  stevens. 
Connecticut. 
Alice  has  sent  us  a  charming  little 
poem.  Everyone  who  knows  the  jewel 
weed,  or  touch-me-not,  and  who  has 
watched  a  humming  bird  at  work,  wall 
understand  the  word  picture.  Why  is 
the  bird  happy,  and  why  is  the  flower 
blest? 
A  Vacation  Experience 
My  best  experience  last  Summer  was 
going  on  a  trip,  for  a  month,  to  the  heart 
of  the  White  Mountains.  The  journey 
was  long  and  I  grew  very  tired  ;  but  when 
we  reached  our  destination,  I  saw  it  was 
far  more  than  worth  our  while. 
I  could  not  tear  myself  away  from 
looking  at  the  mountains,  for  I  love  these 
stony  edifices  of  nature  with  all  my 
heart.  There  were  walks,  carpeted  with 
pine  needles,  through  fragrant  woods  jto 
the  summits  of  mountains,  of  winding 
around  their  bases.  There  was  a  crystal 
clear  mountain  torrent  that  dashed  down 
the  mountain  side,  ran  between  steep, 
brown  cliffs,  over  a  small  plain,  and  then 
again  in  rocky  places — a  scene  of  beauty, 
this  little  river ! 
I  saw  the  Flume,  so  picturesque,  with 
its  steep  cliffs  and  the  water  running  be¬ 
tween,  and  the  “Old  Man  of  the  Moun¬ 
tain.”  The  great  stone  face  seemed  to 
hold  in  his  mind  all  the  wonders  of  the 
ages,  the  things  that  had  passed  before 
his  ever-watching  eyes.  He  seemed  to 
see  far  into  the  future  and  to  know  the 
things  that  are  to  come.  And.  to  me,  in 
my  heart,  he  seemed  to  say,  “Men  may 
die  and  pass  away,  but  I  remain  for¬ 
ever.” 
The  mountains,  in  my  imagination,  said 
the  same  thing,  especially  Mt.  'Washing¬ 
ton.  rising  high  and  majestic  above  all 
with  his  necklace  of  clouds,  seeing  all  in 
heaven  and  earth— never  daunted ;  and 
Mt.  Clay,  sullen,  defiant  in  wind  and 
storm,  is  a  strong  memorial  of  a  great 
man. 
A  month  and  a  little  more;  then  we 
had  to  leave  and  bid  goodby  to  the  moun¬ 
tains  and  the  beautiful  scenery. 
N e  w  J  ersey .  charlotte  e. 
(11  years) . 
This  letter  will  remind  all  of  our  read¬ 
ers  that  we  shall  enjoy  having  reports  of 
your  experiences  during  the  coming  va¬ 
cation  months.  Whether  you  go  on  a 
trip  or  stay  at  home,  you  will  have  pleas¬ 
ant  happenings  to  tell  about. 
Charlotte’s  description  is  doubly  inter¬ 
esting  because  of  the  Book  Puzzle  we  had 
a  few  months  ago  on  Hawthorne’s  story 
of  “The  Great  Stone  face.” 
June 
June  is  the  month  when  the  roses  bloom 
In  their  sweet  dress  that  steals  away 
gloom. 
.Tune  is  the  month  when  the  birdies  sing. 
High  in  the  tree  tops  where  they  can 
swing. 
Ne’er  is  the  sky  so  clear  and  blue — 
June  is  the  month  for  Nature  and  you. 
Kittens  are  playing  around  the  door, 
Baby  is  romping  upon  the  floor. 
Mother  is  canning  strawberries,  too, 
Fresh  and  sweet  with  the  morning  dew. 
Mary  is  going  to  pick  a  rose 
Out  in  the  field  where  the  soft  breeze 
blows. 
DOROTHY  FisnF.R  ( 12  years) . 
New  York. 
Lilacs 
Nearly  everyone  knew  that  the  shrub 
described  in  verse  last  month  was  the  fa¬ 
miliar  and  well-loved  lilac.  Have  you 
ever  noticed,  when  tiding  through  the 
country,  places  where  lilacs  were  bloom¬ 
ing  with  no  building  near?  Yet  almost 
always,  if  you  will  look  closely,  it  will 
be  found  that  once  od  a  time  a  house 
stood  there.  Now  only  the  lilacs  remain. 
Years  ago  they  must  have  been  planted 
by  someone  who  loved  them,  and  long 
after  that  person  has  passed  away  and 
the  house  itself  has  disappeared,  the 
lilacs  grow  and  each  Springtime  burst 
into  fragrant  bloom.  Thus  it  is  often  in 
Nature,  and  the  boy  or  girl  or  man  f  i' 
woman  who  makes  some  plot  of  ground 
more  beautiful  really  does  more  for  those 
who  come  after  than  many  who  gain 
wealth  and  influence.  The  poet,  Whittier, 
expressed  this  thought  in  the  famous  lines 
which  follow — lines  that  are  worth  put¬ 
ting  deep  into  our  hearts  and  living  up 
to  as  far  as  we  are  able. 
Give  fools  their  gold,  and  knaves  their 
power  ; 
Let  fortune’s  bubbles  rise  and  fall  ; 
Who  sows  a  field,  or  trains  a  flower. 
Or  plants  a  free,  is  more  than  all. 
For  he  who  blesses  most  is  blest; 
And  God  and  man  shall  own  his  worth. 
Who  toils  to  leave  as  his  bequest 
An  added  beauty  to  the  earth. 
A  New  Nature  Puzzle 
Once  more  we  have  a  puzzle  in  verse 
form,  and  I  do  not  think  even  the  young¬ 
est  reader  can  fail  to  guess  the  answer. 
I  am  a  flower  with  heart  of  gold, 
And  all  my  beauties  you  shall  be  told  ; 
Around  my  neck  white  frills  I  wear. 
Long  lacy  leaves  I  always  bear. 
I  am  a  full  twelve  inches  tall : 
Guess  what  my  name  is,  one  and  all ! 
MARGARET  WHITNEY, 
Vermont.  (12  years). 
Silas  Marner 
By  George  Eliot 
You  will  see  from  the  list  of  contribu¬ 
tors  that  many  knew  the  answer  to  the 
last  Book  Puzzle.  We  also  have  a  new 
feature  this  month  in  the  drawing  sent 
by  Carlotta  Baker  to  illustrate  a  scene 
in  the  book.  This  is  fine !  Carlotta 
wrote :  “I  am  sending  a  picture  of  Silas 
and  Eppie,  as  I  think  they  would  look 
going  to  deliver  linen  to  Mrs.  Osgood's.” 
You  will  agree  that  she  has  succeeded 
well  in  showing  us  the  charming  little 
girl  and  the  rugged  old  man. 
The  two  summaries  of  this  book,  print¬ 
ed  last  month,  were  very  interesting  and 
well  written,  but  one  of  our  older  boy 
readers  found  that  they  were  not  accurate 
in  some  details,  and  he  looked  the  matter 
up  carefully.  Ilis  letter  is  printed  be¬ 
low  in  order  that  you  may  all  have  the 
benefit  of  his  search.  Those  who  have 
read  the  book  will  find  pleasure  in  pick¬ 
ing  it  up  again  and  reading  here  and 
there  to  refresh  the  facts  of  the  story, 
while  those  who  have  never  read  “.Silas 
Marner”  should  resolve  to  do  so  at  the 
first  opportunity.  It  is  one  of  the  great 
books  of  the  world,  and  one  that  all  boys 
and  girls  enjoy  when  they  reach  high 
school  age,  or  even  before. 
The  answer  to  the  Book  Puzzle  is 
“Silas  Marner.”  It  was  written  by 
George  Eliot,  a  woman  author.  In  the 
puzzle  it  said  that  the  oldest  son  of  the 
squire  stole  the  money  from  the  weaver. 
But  I  looked  it  up  in  the  book,  as  we 
have  one,  and  I  found  that  it  was  the 
younger  son,  Dunstan  Cass,  who  stole 
the  money  and  was  killed.  The  eldest 
son.  Godfrey  Cass,  was  the  father  of 
Eppie.  the  child.  When  Eppie  (who  was 
named  after  Silas’  mother,  Hepzibah), 
grew  up  she  married  Aaron  Winthrop. 
the  son  of  the  lady  who  helped  care  for 
her  when  she  was  little,  and  whom  they 
called  her  godmother.  It  was  not  on 
their  honeymoon  that  they  went  back  to 
Lantern  Yard,  Silas’  home  town.  It  was 
