GOLDEN DAYS IN Ged teed 
Fas une, the rarest month of all Oe year ; ee 
| Then Nature, clad - in ‘Tichest eat purse forth i in ‘songs of 
- cheer, — | 
And every joyous song-bird: gives voice to inter praise,- —< 
No other month in all the hts could | so fit Golden days.” 
28 —Nina Moore 
"What. es pleasure eoulds come os a nature Jover 
then to combine birds, June, and Golden? All that poets 
have written of birds, all that Lowell thought when “the 
high tide of the year” was his theme, is fitting for birds and 
June. Golden, thy charms remain untold. If one could find 
his fingers writing a tithe of the feelings you inspire, your 
haunting, lonely loveliness would vanish, for the patter of 
feet, the babbling of voices, the honk of automobiles would 
drive away present owners and the birds. Forunately, 
although your name is still on railroad maps, you are now 
but a maddening. region where it is almost impossible during 
the warm spring days to put down opera glasses long enough 
to make notes of the calls and none of birds that seem to be 
heard everywhere. : 
Amid the solitudes ms wipueialns of snakes 
Oregon lies a narrow valley, which once was visited daily 
by the grocer, the butcher, and the mail carriers, as they 
made their regular round about the mining village, Golden. 
Now, as all but two of the mines are closed, and they are 
worked by neighboring farmers, the many people who lived 
there are gone; and Esma and Edward, the present owners — 
of the mines, spend their leisure hours in coaxing the wild 
birds and the gray squirrels to be their friends and tenants. 
Vacant dwellings remind the traveller of other times, but 
the ‘peace and joy of an ideal country home is found in the 7 
house in which the proprietors have lived in Lappy. com- 
panionship for many years. : aS i ees 
at 
