That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea—— And wouldst thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties; Oh, spare that aged oak, Now towering to the skies! My heartstrings round thee cling, Close as thy bark, old friend! Here shall the wild bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree! the storm still brave! And, woodman, leave the spot. While I've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not! GEORGE P. MORRIS. IN AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN The garden was pleasant with old-fashioned flowers, The sunflowers and hollyhocks stood up like towers; There were dark turncap-lilies and jasemine rare, And sweet thyme and marjoram scented the air. WILLIAM BRIGHTLY RANDS. Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-me-not, These three bloomed in a garden spot; And once, all merry with song and play, A little one heard three voices say: "Shine and shadow, summer and spring, O thou child with the tangled hair And laughing eyes! We thee shall bring Each an offering passing fair." The little one did not understand But they bent and kissed the dimpled hand. EUGENE FIELD. HOW THE ROSE BECAME QUEEN ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE Once upon a time there was a very great garden that lay between two ranges of blue, blue hills. And the sky above was blue, as blue as the hills, so that you could hardly tell where the sky ended and the hills began, and underneath was the great, beautiful garden which covered all the lands between.