1 Breakley Beach is on the northern side of Prince Edward Island, directly across from Charlottetown. By Alice P. Sargent. Your face smiles on me from the Dear look of old: your soulful eyes Search out the highest good in me. Oh, now no days are drear-there's nothing hard I care not if the very world turns cold, Your face can be the light-the sun, For there the warmth and sunlight never dies. AT THE CONFESSIONAL. By Mary M. Durgin Gray. A poetess a golden pen was given, (A busy housewife filled with many a care) I will confess to you, my friend, that pen A demon seemed, to wreck my hopes of Heaven, Oft with seductive smile and oft again It beckoned me to stop and wield it when To yield were sin; its emissaries then (Giving no peace unless at once expressed, Compelling thoughts) swift through my brain were driven, Until at last, tho' urgent duties pressed, (Seeking to still that clamorous unrest) I've grasped it though remorse lurked in my breast And sat me down, surrendering to its sway While broadest meaning to those thoughts were given. With stern resolve I took the pen away THE INTRODUCTION OF GRAMMAR AT THE CROSS ROADS. I A TRUE STORY. By Eva 7. Beede. T was early in the winter of 1820, and Abner Johnson, a student from Dartmouth college, had come to the Cross Roads where he was "keepin' of the skule an' boardin' 'round." The school consisted of some fifty pupils, of all sizes, from the big boys and girls on the back seats, who were as old as the master himself, and could cipher in the rule of three, down to the A, B, C class on the lowest benches near the fireplace. The master wanted to introduce a new study, called Grammar, but some of the "deestrict fathers" gravely shook their heads, and thought it a waste of time and money, so a meeting was called at the schoolhouse, one evening, for the purpose of discussing the matter. First they raked open the coals in the fireplace and put on a big birch stick, then Lijah Marston, who was chairman of the school committee, produced from his pocket a tallow dip which he lighted at the fire then. held downward on the teacher's desk until a little pool of tallow was formed, and in that he stood his candle. Then the meeting was opened and each man given an opportunity to express his views. "I dunno nothin' 'bout this 'ere Grammar," said Deacon Wetherby, but I'se out t' the corner terday, an' I heerd 't they wuz a hevin' on't 'n the skule there." "In my opinyin," spoke up Si Judkins, "the three R's, readin', 'ritein', an' 'rithumtic 's book larnin' 'nough." Jacob Smith, however, remembering that the new teacher had seen his daughter Hannah home from the singing-school the night before, said, "'s fur's I'm consarned, I'm fur leavin' o' the marter t' the 'discreeshun o' the marster." Ebenezer Atwood was decidedly opposed to the "new thing," as he called it, "Fur, said he, "what's th' use on't? They may hev their book afore 'em, an' they can't make a sled by it." Nevertheless, after a long discussion, Ebenezer's prejudices were overcome, and Si Johnson's opinion. changed, and the "deestrict fathers voted to allow the master to teach Grammar in the school at the Cross Roads. By Ethel F. Comerford. A gleam of dawn and a sunrise sky O'er a field where the slain are sleeping; The end of dreams of days gone by, And the grim hand of vengeance reaping. The wind across a stricken land On its harp a requiem playing; And gently now the little band For the Gordon's dead are praying. A gloomy veldt on the Afric shore, A soldier's farewell, and a tear Down the piper's cheek falling; They turn, heartsick, death's nameless fear- Far off within the Scottish land, And the woman's heart is breaking. The sunset gleam lights up the shore, THE WAYSIDE KING CUP. By Nettie L. Stevens. Dear little blossom, beside the dusty road, I will not leave thee here alone, Though some, unheeding, pass thee by. I know a peaceful valley far away, Where fields are yellow with thy wondrous gold, And so I prize thee, for the memories sweet Of that dear place my heart will ever hold. By Mary J. Richardson. Think the brightest and best, think the happiest, Then stand 'neath the opaline air overhead, Is this that we see in that far-away gleam, Perhaps so, perhaps so. Oh, the gospel of love in that island above! Then, oh, for the story, oh, for the glory, Of love-light that looks from afar ! Oh, for the hand-clasp whose faintest of pressure He gives nor repents Him! all brightness and beauty Shall it not be ours still in that island afar? Perhaps so, perhaps so. WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE TOUCHED WITH SONG. By Moses Gage Shirley. When your lips are touched with song you should never think of wrong, But fight for truth and honor 'til you die. You should battle bravely on with the sword of duty drawn, And your standard ever lifted to the sky. When your lips are touched with song, all the joys of earth should throng Around you, and the waves of gladness beat Like an ocean, vast and wide, bringing in upon its tide Many treasures to be scattered at your feet. When your lips are touched with song, sweetest memories belong To the valiant soul who earnestly aspires; Yours should be the fount of youth and the deathless shield of truth, |