Spring (alone on platform).—

Last night I received a message

From Winter,—now grown so old—
Saying, "Spring, my day is over;
All the people are tired of cold.
It seems strange they are so fickle;
Only three short months ago
They were longing for my coming;
Longing for the ice and snow;

"Now they sigh for Springtime's coming;
For your buds and leaves and bloom,
And of Arbor day they're thinking;
Sad Old Winter, in his gloom,
Says farewell to-night and leaves them.
Be on hand to-morrow morn,
For your season's now approaching,
And I'll go. I'm old and worn."

So I came at once, tho' hurried.

Don't I know how children look
For my buds, and leaves, and blossoms,
For my meadow, and my brook ?
Now I will be very busy,

Waking all my children dear,
And we'll see how soon we'll brighten
All the earth with springtime cheer.

First, the tiny buds must waken,

I must call them first of all;

They'll at once begin their growing;

Hear them answer to my call.

(Raises hand to mouth and calls gently. Enter Buds.)

Buds. We are the buds,

And all winter long

Mother Tree sang to us

This lullaby song.

(They sing first stanza of "Rock-a-bye," from "Song and Study," by Bertha F. Vella.)

Rock-a-bye babies, in a tree-top,

When the wind blows, the cradle will rock;

What is this the green leaves say?
What is this the green leaves say ?
What is this the green leaves say?
It is Arbor day.

Green leaves and children gaily say,
It is Arbor day.

(Leaves pass to the right of Spring. Enter Blossom.)

Blossoms.-We are the blossoms

That were wrapped snug and warm
In the tiny bud blankets,

Safe from all harm.

With spring's call we opened,

So bright and so gay,

To assist in this welcome
Of glad Arbor day.

(Leaves and Blossoms march around an imaginary rectangle, Leaves around one side, Blossoms around the other. They meet in the center at back. Spring stands in center of rectangle. Leaves and Blossoms march, two by two, one right, one left, and around rectangle. Halt in line on front of rectangle. A space is left in center for Spring to be seen, a little back of them.

Blossoms and Leaves sing. Tune, "Wake, Says the Sunshine," in Clara Beeson Hubbard's "Merry Songs and Games.")

Wake, Spring was calling,

O, wake up, my pets;
My children must help me ;
We must not forget

The people are waiting

For us to bring cheer

And gladness unto them

Our part of the year.

Why, we must be clad in our
Spring dresses gay,

To brighten Old Earth

On glad Arbor day.

Chorus:-Tra, la, la, la, la, la, etc.

(Blossoms and Leaves skip two and two around rectangle while singing tra, la, la, coming back in line for second stanza.)

Now Arbor day's here,

And we've all done our best

First Child.—I am the Oak! For ages I've stood

Acknowledged by all to be king of the wood,
I've weathered the storms of the centuries,
The suns that scorch and the frosts that freeze.

Second Child.-I am the Willow tree! Bending low,

I seem to be bearing a burden of woe;
In my drooping branches all day long
The winds seem singing a strange, sad song.

Third Child.-I am the Pine tree! Gracious and green,
Rearing my crown to the leaves I'm seen.
Inhale the air and you will divine

The balsamic breath of the odorous pine.

Fourth Child.-I am the Palm tree! Yea, and I stand;
Fruitful and fair on the hot desert land;
Under my shade the caravans rest,

But the dates that I bear the children love best.

Fifth Child.—I am the Aspen tree!

Who can explain
Why it is that I quiver like one that's in pain?
There's a story that tells why the Aspen tree
grieves.

But the fact is it's all just because of its leaves. Sixth Child.-I am the Cedar tree! Ho! I can tell

A tale that I'm sure you will like pretty well.
The highest and lowest are happy, I say,
When I'm laden with presents on Christmas day.

Together.—We are the Trees! Our story we've told,
And all will agree with us, youthful and old,
That there's nothing the eye of the gazer sees
More worthy of love than the beautiful trees.

Story of the Apple.

(Recitation illustrated by a branch of apple blossoms and a basket of apples.)

By MALANA A. HARRIS.

It comes as a beautiful blossom in spring,
When nature is waking with musical ring.
Its pink-tinted petals, and fragrance so sweet
Makes always its bower a lovely retreat.