Mr. Garland's publications include short stories, novels, essays, and poems. These book publications began with the short stories, Main Travelled Roads, in 1890. Since then have appeared Jason Edwards, 1891; A Member of the Third House, an exposure of political corruption, 1892; A Spoil of Office, 1892; Prairie Folks, Prairie Songs and Crumbling Idols, a series of critical essays, 1893; Rose of Dutcher's Coolly, a novel, 1895; Wayside Courtships, 1897; a Biography of Ulysses S. Grant, 1898; the Trail of the Gold Seekers and Boy Life on the Prairie, 1899; the Eagle's Heart, 1900; Her Mountain Lover, a novel, 1901; The Captain of the Gray Horse Troop, another novel, 1902; Hesper, 1903; The Tyranny of the Dark, a study in psychic research, 1905; The Long Trail, 1907; the Shadow World, another study in the psychic field, 1908; The Moccassin Ranch, 1909; Cavanagh, Forest Ranger, a study in forest preservation, 1911; Victor Olnee's Discipline, 1911; The Forest Daughter, 1913; and They of the High Trails, 1916. THE TOIL OF THE TRAIL What have I gained by the toil of the trail? I know and know well. I have found once again the lore I had lost In the loud cities' hell. I have broadened my hand to the cinch and the axe, I have laid my flesh to the rain; I was hunter and trailer and guide; I have touched the most primitive wildness again. I have threaded the wild with the stealth of the deer, No eagle is freer than I; No mountain can thwart me, no torrent appall. I defy the stern sky. So long as I live these joys will remain, I have touched the most primitive wildness again. THE BLUE JAY His eyes are bright as burnished steel, His note a quick, defiant cry; Harsh as a hinge his grating squeal Sounds from the keen wind sweeping by. Rains never dim his smooth blue coat, The cold winds never trouble him, No fog puts hoarseness in his throat, Or makes his merry eyes grow dim. His call at dawning is a shout, His wing is subject to his heart; Of fear he knows not--doubt Did not draw his sailing-chart. He is an universal emigre, His foot is set in every land; He greets me by gray Casco Bay And laughs across the Texas sand. In heat or cold, in storm and sun, He lives undauntedly; and when he dies, He folds his feet up one by one And turns his last look on the skies. He is the true American. He fears No journey and no wood or wall-- And in the desert, toiling voyagers Take heart or courage from his jocund call. POM-POM PULL-AWAY.