. St. Nicholas [serial] . A HEADING FOR OCTOBER. BY ROBERT E. JONES, AGE 17. (CASH PRIZE.) October burns upon the lands, Our drowsy, idle days are passed ;The goldenrod, a warder, stands To make the gates of summer fast. Though for most of us the vacation days are ended,we might call this a League vacation number. Thepoems, pictures, and stories are all of outdoor life; andvery good ones they are—inspired, no doubt, by theseason and the surroundings incident to their produc-tion. Wherever we were,—at the sea-shore, in thewoods, abroad, or on the farm,—it is quite certain thatmost of our League
. St. Nicholas [serial] . A HEADING FOR OCTOBER. BY ROBERT E. JONES, AGE 17. (CASH PRIZE.) October burns upon the lands, Our drowsy, idle days are passed ;The goldenrod, a warder, stands To make the gates of summer fast. Though for most of us the vacation days are ended,we might call this a League vacation number. Thepoems, pictures, and stories are all of outdoor life; andvery good ones they are—inspired, no doubt, by theseason and the surroundings incident to their produc-tion. Wherever we were,—at the sea-shore, in thewoods, abroad, or on the farm,—it is quite certain thatmost of our League members had a pleasant time; andas the shorter days close in, with less of freedom andmore hard work, the days behind will grow everbrighter, until memory puts about them such a halo aswill make us wonder why we did not really prize themmore when they were slipping For it is the light that never was on sea or land which illumines the past. Viewed in it, the smallestjoy becomes beautiful, and new and wonderful charms,unseen at the moment, grow and take on a rare coloringas the weeks and months drift away from us and be-come a part with the days that are no more. Oh, it isnot only the summer and vacation days that beam withnew light and glory as they recede from us. To-day,now, this very hour, if we live it worthily, and catcheven a glint of its joy in passing, may shine out fair andunfading in the light of other years. Too many of ushurry over the present, looking always to a joy justahead, or turn back with sadness to the rare days we didnot prize. We forget that the passing moment may bequite as beautiful, and that it is ours. It is well to look to the future with its promises, it issweet to look at the past with its memories, but it ismore important to live each passing moment, with thatappreciation and understanding, and with thatkindliness o
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Keywords: ., bookauthordodgemar, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1873
