o indulged in either of these
sports. If caught he would be severely punished and might have his eyes
put out.

[Illustration: IN THE HIGHLANDS OF ONTARIO]

After breakfast, knights with their ladies ride out, each bearing upon
his wrist a falcon with scarlet hood and collar of gold. As they near
the river a heron, who had been fishing for his breakfast among the
reeds near the bank, hears them and spreading his wings flies upward. A
knight slips the hood from the falcon's head and next instant he sees
the heron. Away he darts, while knights and ladies rein in their horses
and watch. Up, and up, he goes until he passes the heron and still he
flies higher. Next instant he turns and, with a terrible swoop
downwards, pounces upon the heron and kills it.

The knight sounds his whistle and instantly the falcon turns and darts
back to him for the dainty food which is given as a reward for his good
hunting. Then he is chained and hooded again till another bird rises. So
the morning passes, and many a bird do the falcons bring down before the
knights and ladies return to the castle for "noon-meat."

WILLIAM FITZSTEPHEN
(Adapted)

And He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age!

SHAKESPEARE

A SONG OF CANADA

Sing me a song of the great Dominion!
Soul-felt words for a patriot's ear!
Ring out boldly the well-turned measure,
Voicing your notes that the world may hear;
Here is no starveling--Heaven-forsaken--
Shrinking aside where the Nations throng;
Proud as the proudest moves she among them--
Worthy is she of a noble song!

Sing me the might of her giant mountains,
Baring their brows in the dazzling blue;
Changeless alone, where all else changes,
Emblems of all that is grand and true:
Free, as the eagles around them soaring;
Fair, as they rose from their Maker's hand:
Shout, till the snow-caps catch the chorus--
The white-topp'd peaks of our mountain land.

Sing me the calm of her tranquil forests,
Silence eternal, and peace profound,
In whose great heart's deep recesses
Breaks no tempest, and comes no sound;
Face to face with the deathlike stillness,
Here, if at all, man's soul might quail:
Nay! 'tis the love of that great peace leads us
Thither, where solace will never fail!

Sing me the pride of her stately r