econd "The Girl Scouts at Bellaire; or Maid Mary's
Awakening."

In the first we were treated to an intimate view of girl scouting as it
is worked out in the groups known as patrols and troops. The True Tred
Troop of Flosston, a Pennsylvania mill town, was composed of a lively
little company indeed, and these American girls were given an
opportunity of working and lending influence to a group of mill girls,
whose quaint characteristics and innate resourcefulness make an
attractive background for our story picture.

How the runaway girls were reclaimed, how a little woodland fairy,
Jacqueline, worked out a scout fantasy, and how a very modest deed won
the first Bronze Cross, makes the first volume of this series a book
calculated to inspire as well as to fascinate the reader.

The second volume: "The Girl Scouts at Bellaire," narrates the
remarkable experience of our True Treds in a mountain town in New
Jersey, where, while spending a vacation, they discover Maid Mary, the
orphan of the orchids, a child of strange fancies and queer tropical
influences, who has been made a victim of the orchid seekers to the
extent of being kept from her relations until the rare bulb is found by
the Girl Scouts.

The glory of the orchids, with their delightful colors and their rarest
of perfumes, permeates the story, while the vague, subtle influence of
queer foreigners lends sufficient clouds to bring out the real beauties
of the tale. The Girl Scout Series is intended to furnish the best sort
of good reading in an attractive style, suited at once to the needs of
the girl's mind, and her natural enjoyment of the story, while it will
stand the most critical censorship of parents and caretakers of the
plastic minds of young girls.

And now our girls are ransacking the Log Cabin from roof to landing,
(there is no cellar to the beach cottage) and on this the first day of
their vacation at Sea Crest, hours are all too short in which to cram
the joys of exploration.

"I have never seen a place like this," declared Grace, when all three
scouts came to a halt finally on the low couch under the indoor dogwood
tree. "We can have lovely parties here, can't we, Cleo?"

"Surely," agreed the hostess. "But girls, what shall we do about
scouting this summer?" she asked, diverting suddenly to a more serious
question. "You see, there is no troop here, and it is such an
opportunity for good scouting, with all the wilds of the ocean and
cliffs, as a