suburban hills.

FRANCES CHARLES,
in _The Siege of Youth._

DECEMBER 18.

FROM THE FRENCH.

How vain is life!
Love's little spell,
Hate's little strife,
And then--farewell!
How brief is life!
Hope's lessening light
With dreams is rife,
And then--good night!

BLANCHE M. BURBANK.

"Everyone for himself," is the law of the jungle. But slowly a new
form of expression is shaping and we are beginning to take pride in
the things that are "ours," rather than in that which alone is "mine."

DANA W. BARTLETT,
in _Our Governtnert in Social Service, or
a Nation at Work in Human Uplift._

DECEMBER 19.

"BACK THERE."

"Back there," the gambler-wind the snow is shuffling,
Flake after flake down--dealing in despair;
The bladeless field, the birdless thicket muffling,
But now no more the river's stillness ruffling.
Oh, bitter is the sky, and blank its stare--
Back there!

"Back there," the wires are down. The blizzard, meaning
No good to man or beast, shakes loose his hair.
The storm-bound train and locomotive preening
His sable plume, the ferry-boat, careening
Between the ice-cakes, icy fringes wear--
Back there!

TRACY and LUCY ROBINSON,
in _Out West._

DECEMBER 20.

"OUT HERE."

"Out Here," a mocker trills his carol olden,
High-perched upon some eucalyptus near.
The meadow lark replies; oranges golden
Peer from the green wherewith they are enfolden,
And perfume fills the winey atmosphere--
Out Here!

"Out Here," through virgin soil, in sunlight mellow--
Ay, and in moonlight!--man his plow may steer,
Nor lose life's edge in friction with his fellow;
Nor, parchment-bound, with yellowing creeds turn yellow,
But feel his heart grow younger every year--
Out Here!

TRACY and LUCY ROBINSON,
in _Out West._

DECEMBER 21.

HAPPY HEART.

As I go lightly on my way
I hear the flowers and grasses talk:
I listen to the gray-beard rock:
I know what 'tis the tree-tops say.
A thousand comrades with me walk
As I go lightly on my way.

As I go lightly on my way
A bonnie bird a greeting sings,
And gossip from a far clime brings;
A grumbling bee growls out "Good-day";
A jest the saucy chipmonk flings,
As I go lightly on my way.

As I go lightly on my way
The brook trips by with dancing feet,
And Song and