WILD TURKEY

ILD Turkeys are the largest and finest of game birds and the

W originators of the common domestic turkeys. They are

found in their several races in eastern and southern United States, north to Pennsylvania and west to Texas; formerly north to New England. They frequent wooded districts and are by nature very wary and shy, yet they are very easily trapped and it was this means that has driven them from most of their former range. At present they are taken chiefly by trailing or by calling. They have a remarkable keen sense of sight and smell and a strong pair of legs with which to run away, as well as good wings if necessity demands their use. With plenty of cover, the turkey is pretty capable of caring for himself.

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SEASONABLE

-Game Birds.

AME a glimpse of black and orange from the maples o'er

CA

the way,

Where the oriole was trilling to his mate.

The blackbird in the willows whistled merrily all day,

So we thought our winter woolens out of date.

The robin's merry music awakened us at dawn

And the grass was showing green along the street,

But something seemed to tell us that we better keep em on,
Although to lay 'em off would be a treat.

We heard the tree-toads chirping in the trees, a little bit,
We began to think the spring was really here.

"T was such a forward season that we donned our Porosknit,
Then the weather changed so quick, we thought it queer.

We'd no sooner got 'em on than the mercury went down,
So we slid back in those woolens mighty soon.

Now, we're just agoin' to wear 'em, let the weather smile or frown
And we'll never take 'em off again 'till June.

—A. W. Whitehead.

"THE BROOKSIDE AND THE HILLSIDE"

HE stream beneath a bridge had made a pool

TH

Of dusky water, fring'd with sedge and reeds,
Where water lilies their white vases oped

Each with a gem of gold within its heart.
On the slant bank the wild rosebushes grew,
All their pink petals to the view disclos'd,
Their images reflected in the wave.
Here flew the bright kingfishers, blue and gold,
Foll'wing in flight the windings of the stream;
And here a bird with snow-white, downy breast,
The water-ouzel, dipping its black bill,
Perched on a mossy stone, or skimmed the wave:
It was a fairy scene to charm the eye!

Down the swift stream, amid the shadow's dusk,
The gnat swarms hovered, and the minnows bright
Twinkled and lighten'd in the sweeping tide,
And leaped the trout where insects sought the wave.
The sweetest song-birds from each bending twig
And coppice pour'd their souls in liquid strains;
And heavens above were sunshine, and the earth
Rejoiced in a full fruition of the day;
Delicious were the bird-hymns, and most sweet
The trickling murmur of the running brook."

-John Keats.

STRIVE, WAIT AND PRAY

TRIVE: yet I do not promise
The prize you dream of today

Will not fade when you think to grasp it,
And melt in your hand away;
But another and holier treasure,
You would now perchance disdain,
Will come when your toil is over,
And pay you for all your pain.

Wait: yet I do not tell you

The hour you long for now

Will not come with its radiance vanished,
And a shadow upon its brow;
Yet, far through the misty future,
With a crown of starry light,

An hour of joy you know not
Is winging her silent flight.

Pray though the gift you ask for
May never comfort your fears—
May never repay your pleadings—

Yet pray, and with hopeful tears;
An answer, not that you long for,
But diviner will come one day;
Your eyes are too dim to see it,
Yet strive, and wait, and pray.

-Adelaide A. Proctor.

TH

Shimmering mist o'er brook and bower;

With golden wand it touches

Rustling leaf and fading flower;

Its shuttle is unwinding

Wondrous tinted threads of song,

And binding every shadow

With the sunset's crimson thong.

Love's golden loom is weaving
Brightest hope o'er every life,
And stilling with a glowing promise
Every throb of pain and strife.
While from its shuttle 'tis unsnarling
Many threads of somber woe,
'Tis lacing all in rich designing
For the weft of evening glow.
-Mary Grace Hayes.