"Ho, ho!" sounded the baying, nearer now and nearer. "Come!" cried Neonetta in faint tones.

"Ho, ho! - ho, ho!"

Only a moment more, Queen Neonetta, for thy enchant5 ment over Daniel! The sun will rise, the cock will crow, good Lion will bound across the snow-covered clearing. But we will not stay. Hark! there is Lion again — “Ho, ho!"

I. Tell who Daniel was, what his past life had been like, and what he was doing at the time of this story.

2. In reading the story what did you first think had happened to Daniel when he sailed away with Neonetta? Did he really see Neonetta? Who is she supposed to be? What was the silver ship?

3. What actually had happened to the world outside while Daniel slept? Where do you first get an inkling that Neonetta was some kind of frost spirit?

4. Do you think Daniel was glad to find himself still in his own cottage at daybreak?

WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY

BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER

IS splendid to live so grandly,

'TIS

That long after you are gone,
The things you did are remembered,
And recounted under the sun;
To live so bravely and purely,

That a nation stops on its way,

And once a year, with banner and drum,
Takes thought of your natal day.

'Tis splendid to have a record

So white and free from stain,

That, held to the light, it shows no blot,
Though tested and tried amain;
That age to age forever

Repeats its story of love,

And your birthday lives in a nation's heart
All other days above.

And this is Washington's glory,
A steadfast soul and true,
Who stood for his country's honor

When his country's days were few;
And now, when its days are many,
And its flag of stars is flung
To the breeze in defiant challenge,
His name is on every tongue.

Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely,
To be so great and strong,

That your memory is ever a tocsin
To rally the foes of the wrong;

To live so proudly and purely

That your people pause in their way,

And year by year, with banner and drum,

Take thought of your natal day.

1. What is the "glory of Washington," according to the poem? For what does the name of Washington stand, in your mind: is it love for his mother, military knowledge, political wisdom, common sense, sacrifice of self for country - or what?

2. We cannot all be Washingtons, but we can be like him in some ways. How? What can we do on the twenty-second of each February to be more like Washington?

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THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

Bryant (1794-1878) is one of America's great poets. Nature furnished him with a goodly part of the subjects for his poetry. Woods, rivers, flowers, birds all are treated in the lofty style of verse he made his own. Bryant began his professional life as a lawyer, but soon shifted to literary work. He was editor of The New York Evening Post for nearly fifty years.

COME, let us plant the apple tree!

Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;

Wide let its hollow bed be made;

There gently lay the roots, and there
Sift the dark mold with kindly care,
And press it o'er them tenderly,
As round the sleeping infant's feet
We softly fold the cradle sheet;
So plant we the apple tree.

What plant we in this apple tree?

Buds which the breath of summer days

Shall lengthen into leafy sprays;

Boughs where the thrush with crimson breast

Shall haunt, and sing, and hide her nest;

We plant upon the sunny lea

A shadow for the noontide hour,
A shelter from the summer shower,
When we plant the apple tree.

What plant we in this apple tree? Sweets for a hundred flowery springs To load the May wind's restless wings, When from the orchard row he pours Its fragrance through our open doors; A world of blossoms for the bee, Flowers for the sick girl's silent room, For the glad infant sprigs of bloom, We plant with the apple tree.

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What plant we in this apple tree?
Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,
And redden in the August noon,
And drop when gentle airs come by,
That fan the blue September sky;

While children, wild with noisy glee,
Shall scent their fragrance as they pass,
And search for them the tufted grass

At the foot of the apple tree.

And when above this apple tree
The winter stars are quivering bright,
And winds go howling through the night,
Girls whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth
Shall peel its fruit by the cottage hearth;

And guests in prouder homes shall see,
Heaped with the orange and the grape,
As fair as they in tint and shape,

The fruit of the apple tree.

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The fruitage of this apple tree,
Winds and our flag of stripe and star
Shall bear to coasts that lie afar,
Where men shall wonder at the view,
And ask in what fair groves they grew;
And they who roam beyond the sea
Shall think of childhood's careless day,
And long hours passed in summer play
In the shade of the apple tree.

Each year shall give this apple tree
A broader flush of roseate bloom,
A deeper maze of verdurous gloom,
And loosen, when the frost clouds lower,
The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower.
The years shall come and pass
Shall hear no longer, where we lie,
The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh,
In the boughs of the apple tree.

but we

But time shall waste this apple tree.
Oh, when its aged branches throw
Thin shadows on the ground below,
Shall fraud and force and iron will
Oppress the weak and helpless still?

What shall the task of mercy be,

Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears
Of those who live when length of years
Is wasting this apple tree?