Gold, gold the sunlight spills--
Red leaves!

Dead Leaves--
A swirl in the air-asleep 'neath the
trees.
Gone every lark and swallow--
Haunting echoes bid me follow--
Dead leaves!
Bessie May Bellman--


Mrs. Henthorne's ``If'' is published in a
New York reader.

``If, in a bird-heart, beating 'neath the gray
There chants a song, no matter what the
day.
If, in a bird-heart happy sunbeams shine,
Why not in mine?

If, in a flower-face, beat down by rain,
The hope of clear skies be in spite of
pain--
If, in a flower-face a great hope shine,
Why not in mine?''



AMANDA T. JONES.