a
house they lived in. And the story doesn't tell whether he thought any
of these things queer when he was little or when he grew up; probably
because you know all these things yourselves. But the story does tell
that long before he was old enough to notice any of these things he
knew his mother loved her little white baby with blue eyes and golden
hair. And it tells that he loved to have her rock him in her arms and
sing to him this song:

"Listen, wee baby,
I'd sing you a song;
The arms of the mothers
Are tender and strong,
The arms of the mothers
Where babies belong!
Brown mothers and yellow
And black and red too,
They love their babies
As I, dear, love you,--
My little white blossom
With wide eyes of blue!
And your wee golden head,
I do love it, I do!
And your feet and your hands
I love you there too!
And my love makes me sing to you
Sing to you songs,
Lying hushed in my arms
Where a baby belongs!"

For all this is happening in your own country every day and he is a
little American baby. Perhaps you know his father,--perhaps you know the
baby,--perhaps, oh, perhaps, you have heard his mother sing!

ONCE THE BARN WAS FULL OF HAY

This story made a special appeal to the school children because the
school building was originally a stable in MacDougal Alley. They had
even witnessed this evolution from stable to garage. The children have
seemed to enjoy the rhythmic language without any sense of
strangeness.

ONCE THE BARN WAS FULL OF HAY

Once the barn was full of hay,
Now 'tis there no more.
I wonder why the hay has left the barn?

The old horse stood in the stall all day.
He wanted to be on the streets.
He was strong, was this old horse.
He was wise, was this old horse.
And he was brave as well.
And he was proud, oh, very proud to be strong and wise and brave!
He wanted to be on the streets,
And he wondered what was wrong
That now for ten long days
No one had to come harness him up.
Old Tom, the aged driver, seemed to have gone away,
And only the stable boy had given him water and oats,
And poked him hay from the loft above.
And as the old horse thought of this
He reached up high with his quivering nose,
And pushing his lips far back on his teeth,
Pulled down a mouthful of hay.
B