. The Suburbanite; a monthly magazine for those who are and those who ought to in interested in suburban homes . ut youmay live over the happiness if you will—and there are four Sundays in everymonth. It may be that the seasons hasten toofast for those of us who have turned a certain corner. I said something of myfeeling to Peter on our way home froma walk last fall, and of my vague wishto spend the winter in Southern Califor-nia, or some other equally delectable had had a good time, watching thesquirrels as we went our way throughthe woods, and iiiiagining woodchucksand porcupines and
. The Suburbanite; a monthly magazine for those who are and those who ought to in interested in suburban homes . ut youmay live over the happiness if you will—and there are four Sundays in everymonth. It may be that the seasons hasten toofast for those of us who have turned a certain corner. I said something of myfeeling to Peter on our way home froma walk last fall, and of my vague wishto spend the winter in Southern Califor-nia, or some other equally delectable had had a good time, watching thesquirrels as we went our way throughthe woods, and iiiiagining woodchucksand porcupines and wildcats and deerand Indians; then sitting beside me onthe log, perfectly quiet, until it was tiinefor us to go. He thought his thoughts,but I do not know what they were. Hewas silent for some minutes. No. daddy, he said at last, I dontwish that. The winter is lots of the spring is coming, too. It willcome just as we are tired of that lucky? I remember when I felt the same wayabout winter that Peter does. He isright. The spring comes just wdien weare tired of winter. It is verv A Xew KTse\ teiitral Il\ cr Going H From the Realm of Toil and TmnbkToward the sunset keeps of S])ain. Rolling iron miles behind us Westward speeds the lurching train. Fades the citys ragged skyline,Steepled roof and garish dome— And Im going home to .Mar\. (ioing home, going humel ome (irayness veils the whirling valley; Darkness sweeps acri)ss the red and green and golden Glint and glare along the ringing wheel and bearing Holds a jolly little gnomeSinging, (joing home to Mary,doing home, going home! And I hear the chant re-echoed In the grinding and the the clanking of the con])ler. In the clatter of the car:While the engine bears a burden. Thnmgh a cloud of billowed foamCalling, doing home to Mary,tioing home, .going home! .V. ). Tinier THE SUBURBANITE 13
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