. St. Nicholas [serial]. traveling. by HERMAN F. BECKERT, AGE 17. (SILVEK BADGE.) upon all fours again. When he could screw up courage,he ran away ; but strange to say, he was back again thenext moment to make another observation of the queer-looking creatures. On a branch I spied a bright blue bird which my auntsaid was an indigo bunting. We saw many robins andcatbirds, and now and then a flicker, but our attentionwas directed more to the birds that we did not see onour every-day walk. We always referred to this spot as Birds Paradise,and often spent many quiet hours with our featheredfriends
. St. Nicholas [serial]. traveling. by HERMAN F. BECKERT, AGE 17. (SILVEK BADGE.) upon all fours again. When he could screw up courage,he ran away ; but strange to say, he was back again thenext moment to make another observation of the queer-looking creatures. On a branch I spied a bright blue bird which my auntsaid was an indigo bunting. We saw many robins andcatbirds, and now and then a flicker, but our attentionwas directed more to the birds that we did not see onour every-day walk. We always referred to this spot as Birds Paradise,and often spent many quiet hours with our featheredfriends there. FIRESIDE FANCIES BY MAY E. WISHART (aGE 17) (Honor Member)They sat beside the fire, the family group. Each on the bright flames thoughtfully intent;Without, a whining, whistling winter wind Wailed forth its woes in accents violent. The cat, prosaic beast, looked at the fire, And dreamed of catnip, and of rats and mice ; Small Bobby, little better, thought the logsLooked like a layer cake, each log a a heading for JANUARY. BY FRANCES H. LENZ, AGE 16.( SILVER BADGE.) But Sister Ruths brown eyes were large and she was building castles fair in Spain ; Before her, from the fire, a tall knight rose, With noble face, and white shield free from stain. Big Brother Jack thought of a city grandThat he would like to build across the sea ; A city of ideals—dwelling;-place Of great achievements and of liberty. The half-burnt logs made Dad think of the timeWhen he had brought in logs long years ago ; And Mother sighed to think of homeless onesWho had that night, perhaps, no place to go. The flames curl up in ever-changing paint the fireside faces with their glow. With now a sigh, a smile, a wistful gaze As haunting dreams and memories come and go. THE ROLL OF HONOR A list of those whose wurk wuuld have been used had spacepermitted. PROSE Ella R. WatkinsSally SageGjems EraserFlorence BruggerMiriam MartinMaude O, RossElise AylenFlorence H. LeopoldCaroline N
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Keywords: ., bookauthordodgemar, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1873
