10 A DAKOTA WHEAT FIELD HAMLIN GARLAND HAMLIN GARLAND is an American novelist and poet. He has written mainly of the West. Like liquid gold the wheat field lies, A marvel of yellow and russet and green, Of light sweeping after-a curl Of fairy waltzers, the colors run Through the deeps of the ripening wheat. Broad as the fleckless, soaring sky, The slow hawk stoops To his prey in the deeps; The sunflower droops To the lazy wave; the wind sleeps. A riot of shadow and shine, A glory of olive and amber and wine, To the westering sun the colors run Through the deeps of the ripening wheat. O glorious land! My Western land, Outspread beneath the setting sun! Who sweep amid the ripened grain Makes pauseless rhyme, And toward the sun The splendid colors ramp and run MR. PICKWICK'S SLIDE CHARLES DICKENS NOTE. Mr. Pickwick and his friends are spending the Christmas holidays with Mr. Wardle, who has taken them out on the ice to entertain them. See "On the Muggleton Coach," page 301. Meanwhile Mr. Weller and the fat boy, having by their joint endeavors cut out a slide, were exercising themselves 5 thereupon in a very masterly and brilliant manner. a good long slide, and there was something in the motion which Mr. Pickwick, who was very cold with standing still, could not help envying. "It looks a nice warm exercise, does n't it?" he inquired 10 of Wardle. "Ah, it does indeed!" replied Wardle. "Do you slide?" "I used to do so on the gutters when I was a boy," replied Mr. Pickwick. "Try it now," said Wardle. "Oh, do, please, Mr. Pickwick!" cried all the ladies. "I should be very happy to afford you any amusement," replied Mr. Pickwick, "but I haven't done such a thing these thirty years." 15 "Pooh! pooh! Nonsense!" said Wardle, dragging off 20 his skates with the impetuosity which characterized all his proceedings. "Here; I'll keep you company; come along!" And away went the good-tempered old fellow down the slide, with a rapidity which came very close upon Mr. Weller and beat the fat boy all to nothing. Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off his gloves and put them in his hat, took two or three short runs, balked himself as often, and at last took another run, and 5 went slowly and gravely down the slide, with his feet about a yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified shouts of all the spectators. 66 Keep the pot a-bilin', sir!" said Sam; and down went Wardle again, and then Mr. Pickwick, and then Sam, and 10 then Mr. Winkle, and then Mr. Bob Sawyer, and then the fat boy, and then Mr. Snodgrass, following closely upon each other's heels, and running after each other with as much eagerness as if all their future prospects in life depended on their expedition. 15 It was the most intensely interesting thing to observe the manner in which Mr. Pickwick performed his share in the ceremony; to watch the torture of anxiety with which he viewed the person behind gaining upon him at the imminent hazard of tripping him up; to see him gradually expend the painful force he had put on at first, and turn slowly round on the slide, with his face toward the point from which he had started; to contemplate the joyful smile which mantled on his face when he had accomplished the distance, and the eagerness with which he turned 25 round when he had done so and ran after his predecessor, his black gaiters tripping pleasantly through the snow and |