than he? Then it is absolutely necessary that I should be that

man.

"Have thy will," said the angel.

And he became again what he had been--a poor stone-cutter, a simple workman in the quarries. His life was rude, he worked much, and gained little; but he was contented with his lot.

Words: cavaliers-knights on horseback; gorgeous;

ardent-fierce; intercepted-cut

waste; tumultuous-roaring; distinguished-saw.

TWO SURPRISES

(Many poems and stories teach the lesson of contentment-that happiness springs from a clean heart and a useful life rather than from owning lands and gold.)

A

WORKMAN plied his clumsy spade

As the sun was going down ;

The German king with his cavalcade

Was coming into town.

The king stopped short when he saw the man—
"My worthy friend," said he,

"Why not cease work at eventide,

When the laborer should be free?"

"I do not slave," the old man said,

"And I am always free;

Though I work from the time I leave my bed

Till I can hardly see."

"How much," said the king, "is thy gain in a day?"

"Eight groschen," the man replied.

"And canst thou live on this meager pay?"—
"Like a king," he said with pride.

"Two groschen for me and my wife, good friend,

And two for a debt I owe;

Two groschen to lend and two to spend

For those who can't labor, you know."

"Thy debt?" said the king. Said the toiler, "Yea,
To my mother with age oppressed,

Who cared for me, toiled for me, many a day,
And now hath need of rest.”

"To whom dost lend thy daily store?"
"To my three boys at school. You see,
When I am too feeble to toil any more,

They will care for their mother and me."

"And thy last two groschen?" the monarch said.
"My sisters are old and lame;

I give them two groschen for raiment and bread,
All in the Father's name.'

Tears welled up in the good king's eyes—
"Thou knowest me not," said he;
"As thou hast given me one surprise,
Here is another for thee.

"I am thy king; give me thy hand"-
And he heaped it high with gold--
"When more thou needest, I command
That I at once be told.

"For I would bless with rich reward The man who can proudly say,

That eight souls he doth keep and guard

On eight poor groschen a day."

-Author Unknown

WH

THE VOYAGE

HICHEVER way the wind doth blow,
Some heart is glad to have it so;

Then blow it east or blow it west,

The wind that blows, that wind is best.

My little craft sails not alone:
A thousand fleets from every zone
Are out upon a thousand seas;
And what for me were favoring breeze
Might dash another, with the shock
Of doom, upon some hidden rock.

And so I do not dare to pray
For winds to waft me on my way,
But leave it to a Higher Will
To stay or speed me, trusting still
That all is well, and sure that He

Who launched my bark will sail with me
Through storm and calm, and will not fail,
Whatever breezes may prevail,

To land me, every peril past,

Within His sheltering haven at last.

Then, whatsoever wind doth blow,

My heart is glad to have it so;

And blow it east, or blow it west,

The wind that blows, that wind is best.

-Caroline Atherton Mason

Questions: What does the voyage stand for, or symbolize, in this beautiful poem? What two great virtues does this poem hold up before us

IN BLOSSOM TIME

(This musical poem of the spring was written by Miss Ina Coolbrith of San Francisco. For many years she was a close friend of Bret Harte and of Joaquin Miller. Have you ever heard of them?)

T'S O my heart, my heart,

To be out in the sun and sing-
To sing and shout in the fields about,
In the balm and blossoming!

Sing loud, O bird in the tree;

O bird, sing loud in the sky,

And honey-bees, blacken the clover beds-
There is none of you glad as I.

The leaves laugh low in the wind,

Laugh low, with the wind at play;
And the odorous call of the flowers all
Entices my soul away!

For O but the world is fair, is fair-
And O but the world is sweet!

I will out in the gold of the blossoming mould,
And sit at the Master's feet.

And the love my heart would speak,

I will fold in the lily's rim,

That the lips of the blossom, more pure and meek,
May offer it up to Him.

Then sing in the hedgerow green, O thrush,

O skylark, sing in the blue;

Sing loud, sing clear, that the King may hear,

And my soul shall sing with you!

-Ina Coolbrith

PART II