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ON THE WILD ROSE TREE

RICHARD WATSON GILDER

RICHARD WATSON GILDER is an American poet who has a keen interest in artistic, literary, and social progress. He has been for many years the editor of the Century Magazine.

A SPRING DAY

JULIANA HORATIA EWING

MRS. JULIANA HORATIA ORR EWING (1842-1885) was an English story-writer whose work takes high rank. "The Story of a Short Life" and "Jackanapes" are among her best-known books.

NOTE.

This selection is from "Mrs. Overtheway's Remembrances."

At the beginning of 5

Spring was early that year. February there was a good deal of snow on the ground, it is true, but the air became milder and milder, and toward the end of the month there came a real spring day, and all the snow was gone.

Ida had been kept indoors for a long time by the 10 weather and by a cold, and it was very pleasant to get out again, even when the only amusement was to run up and down the gravel walks and wonder how soon she might begin to garden, and whether the gardener could be induced to give her a piece of ground sufficiently exten- 15 sive to grow a crop of mustard and cress in the form of a capital I.

It was the kitchen garden into which Ida had been sent. At the far end it was cut off from the world by an overgrown hedge with large gaps at the bottom, through 20 which Ida could see the high road, a trough for watering horses, and beyond this a wood. The hedge was very thin

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in February, and Ida had a good view in consequence. Sitting on a stump in the sunshine she peered through the gap to see if any horses came to drink. It was as good as a peep show, and, indeed, much better.

"The snow has melted," gurgled the water.

"Here I

am." It was everywhere. The sunshine made the rich green mosses look dry, but in reality they were wet, and so was everything else. Slish! slosh! Put your feet where you would, the water was everywhere. It filled the stone 10 trough, which, being old and gray and steady, kept it still and bade it reflect the blue sky and gorgeous mosses; but the trough soon overflowed, and then the water slipped over the side and ran off in a wayside stream.

"Winter is gone!" it spluttered as it ran; "winter is 15 gone, winter-is-gone, winterisgone!" And, on the principle that a good thing cannot be said too often, it went on with this all through the summer, till the next winter came and stopped its mouth with icicles. As the stream chattered, so the birds in the woods sang, "Tweet! tweet! 20 chirrup! throstle! Spring! spring! spring!" and they twittered from tree to tree, and shook the bare twigs with melody; whilst a single blackbird, sitting still upon a bough below, sang "Life! life! life!" with the loudest pipe of his throat, because on such days it was happiness 25 only to be alive.

MOSES AT THE FAIR

OLIVER GOLDSMITH

OLIVER GOLDSMITH (1728-1774) was an Irish poet, historian, and novelist. His "Vicar of Wakefield" is said to be the most widely known piece of fiction in English literature.

NOTE.-The "Vicar of Wakefield " and his family, having lost their little fortune, were obliged to live very simply. His wife, however, wanted to make as fine an appearance as possible, so she coaxed the Vicar to sell their colt at a neighboring fair, and to buy instead a horse that would look well at church or upon a visit. The Vicar tells the story.

As the fair happened on the following day, I had intentions of going myself.

"No, my dear," said my wife, "our son Moses is a discreet boy, and can buy and sell to very good advantage."

As I also had a good opinion of my son's prudence, I was willing enough to trust the business with him.

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The next morning found his sisters busy in fitting out 15 Moses for the fair, -trimming his hair, brushing his buckles, and cocking his hat with pins. The business of the toilet being over, we had at last the satisfaction of seeing him mounted upon the colt, with a deal box before him in which to bring home groceries. He had on a coat 20 which, though too short for him, was much too good to be thrown away. His waistcoat was of gosling green, and his sisters had tied his hair with a broad, black ribbon.

We all followed him several paces from the door, crying after him, "Good luck! good luck!" till we could see him no longer.

It was almost nightfall before we saw Moses coming 5 back, without a horse and with the deal box strapped round his shoulders.

"Welcome, welcome, Moses!" I cried. "Well, my boy, what have you brought us from the fair?"

"I have brought you myself," cried Moses with a sly 10 look, and resting the box on the dresser.

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"Yes, Moses," cried my wife, "we know that, but where is the horse?"

"I have sold him," said Moses, "for three pounds five shillings and twopence."

"Well done, my good boy," said she. "Three pounds five shillings and twopence is no bad day's work. Come, let us have it, then."

"I have brought back no money," cried Moses again. "I have laid it all out in a bargain and here it is," pulling 20 out a bundle from his breast, "here they are; a gross of green spectacles with silver rims and shagreen cases!"

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66 gross of green spectacles!" repeated my wife in a faint voice. "You have parted with the colt and brought us back nothing but a gross of green spectacles!"

"Dear mother," said the boy, "why won't you listen to reason? They are a bargain or I should not have