All the apples laughed to hear her:

Larger grew they every day,
Swelling in the glow of summer,
Ripening in the noontide ray.

Like the streaks upon the tulip,
Purple gleams across them spread,
Or they yellowed in the sunlight,
Or they blushed a rosy red.

And the people at the farmhouse,
When October days had come,
Joyful, brought and filled their baskets,
Bore the fragrant apples home.

Now the tree, her look so lively,
Look so fresh, had ceased to wear;
Bird and bee had left her, only

Robin's empty nest was there.

Hour by hour the leaves were dropping,
And among the boughs, forlorn,
Autumn wind came sighing, sobbing,
Till the last brown leaf was born.

White-winged hen and kingly rooster
Soon the failing tree forsook,-

In the barn, on beam or rafter,

More at ease their slumber took.

Bravely stood the tree and cheery, Though so gray and leafless grown;

Hopeful still, but very lonely,

Ev'n the empty nest blown down.

When the winter snowdrifts covered
All the landscape, high and low,
Tippets white she wrapped about her,
Graceful tippets of the snow.

March! And now the frozen raindrops
Glittering hung from all her stems,
And she stood in jewels blazing,
Decked from top to toe in gems.

Then at last, with soft embraces,
Spring returned. Without pursuit
Came the young buds, came the blossom,
Came the foliage, came the fruit.

Bravely should we meet our troubles,
Patient, whatsoe'er they bring,
For the dear God sends the winter
Only to restore the spring.

THE BRAHMIN AND THE ROGUE

THOMAS B. MACAULAY

A PIOUS Brahmin, it is written, made a vow, that on

a certain day he would sacrifice a sheep, and, on the appointed morning, he went forth to buy one. There lived in his neighborhood three rogues, who knew of his vow, and laid a scheme for profiting by it. The first met him and said: "Oh, Brahmin, wilt thou buy a sheep? I have one fit for sacrifice." "It is for that very purpose, said the holy man, "that I came forth this day."

Then the impostor opened a bag, and brought out of it

an unclean beast, an ugly dog, lame and blind.

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Thereon

the Brahmin cried out: "Wretch, who touchest things impure, and utterest things untrue, callest thou that cur a sheep?” 'Truly," answered the other, "it is a sheep of the finest fleece, and of the sweetest flesh. Oh, Brahmin, it will be an offering most acceptable to the gods." "Friend," said the Brahmin, "either thou or I must be blind."

"Praised be

Just then one of the accomplices came up. the gods," said the second rogue, “that I have been saved the trouble of going to the market for a sheep! This is such a sheep as I wanted. For how much wilt thou sell it?" When the Brahmin heard this, his mind waved to and fro like one swinging in the air at a holy festival. Sir," said he to the newcomer, "take heed what thou dost; this is no sheep, but an unclean cur." "Oh, Brahmin," said the newcomer, "thou art drunk or mad."

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"Let us

At this time the third confederate drew near. ask this man," said the Brahmin, "what the creature is, and I will stand by what he shall say." To this the others agreed; and the Brahmin called out, "Oh, stranger, what dost thou call this beast?" "Surely, oh, Brahmin," said the knave," it is a fine sheep." Then said the Brahmin, "Surely the gods have taken away my senses,” — and he asked pardon of him who carried the dog, and bought it for a measure of rice and a pot of ghee,1 and offered it up to the gods, who, being wroth at this unclean sacrifice, smote him with a sore disease in all his joints.

1 Ghee

Butter that has been clarified by boiling, straining, and skimming until it becomes a semi-solid oil capable of being kept many years. It is largely used in India in cookery, medicine, and religious rites.

Thus, or nearly thus, if we remember rightly, runs the story of the Sanscrit Esop. The moral, like the moral of every fable that is worth telling, lies on the surface. The writer evidently means to caution us against the practices of puffers, a class of people who have more than once talked the public into the most absurd errors.

HEPHERDS all, and maidens fair,
Fold your flocks up, for the air

'Gins to thicken, and the sun

Already his great course hath run.
See the dewdrops how they kiss
Every little flower that is,
Hanging on their velvet heads,
Like a rope of crystal beads:
See the heavy clouds low falling,
And bright Hesperus down calling
The dead Night from underground;
At whose rising, mists unsound,

Damps and vapors fly apace,
Hovering o'er the wanton face
Of these pastures, where they come,
Striking dead both bud and bloom:
Therefore, from such danger lock
Every one his loved flock;

And let your dogs lie loose without,
Lest the wolf come as a scout
From the mountain, and, ere day,
Bear a lamb or kid away;
Or the crafty thievish fox
Break upon your simple flocks.
To secure yourselves from these,
Be not too secure in ease;
Let one eye his watches keep,
Whilst the other eye doth sleep;

So you

shall good shepherds prove,

And forever hold the love

Of our great god. Sweetest slumbers,

And soft silence, fall in numbers

On your eyelids! So, farewell!

Thus I end my evening's knell.

THE GRASS

EMILY DICKINSON

THE grass so little has to do,—
A sphere of simple green,

With only butterflies to brood,

And bees to entertain,