o truly great, that
with a deep knowledge of the world about him he worshiped God, honored
his fellow-man, and loved nature as a child loves its mother--such a man
could not be far removed from young sympathies. He could not be a poet
without singing, sometimes, just the song that little folks would love
to hear.

And children, themselves, were dear to him. More than once in the course
of an acquaintance that dates back to our own early youth, we have seen
his eyes light with pleasure at some incident of boy and girl life.
Often his kindly interest and hearty words about St. Nicholas have given
us better hope and courage to try to make the magazine just what it
should be. "Good!" from his quiet lips was well worth striving for. His
standard in everything was high. Hear "The Old Man's Counsel," which,
through his own verse, he once gave to his own heart.

"Wisely, my son, while yet thy days are long,
And this fair change of seasons passes slow,
Gather and treasure up the good they yield--
All that they teach of virtue, of pure thoughts
And kind affections, reverence for thy God
And for thy brethren; so when thou shalt come
Into these barren years, thou mayst not bring
A mind unfurnished and a withered heart."

But Bryant was not always solemn in his teaching. If you like playful,
sprightly verses that yet are full of poetry, read his "Robert of
Lincoln," where

"Merrily swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain-side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Snug and safe is that nest of ours,
Hidden among the summer flowers.
Chee, chee, chee."

And while the poet is telling you of these singers of the air, read "The
Return of The Birds," written in the early spring of 1864, when, as you
know, the country was in great trouble, and the birds saw many a sorry
sight. If you like a beautiful fairy-tale in verse, all about children
and the elves or sprites that children love, read his "Little People of
The Snow." There also is the pretty legend of "The White-footed Deer";
or if you bigger boys and girls wish something more weird and exciting,
read his tragic story of "The Strange Lady." Then, on some lovely autumn
day, when "the melancholy days are come," and the procession of flowers
has nearly passed by, read his verses "To the Fringed Genti