The right to draw was ne'er refused,
Nor was that right by one misused.
Through long decades the dear old well
Maintained its virtues sweet to tell.

I wonder now, since far I've strolled,
Could I but quaff those waters cold
And hear the windlass, greased with soap,
Wind up the rust-browned chain and rope.
Would greetings be the same as then?
Would voices sound the same as when

Those boys and girls from far and near
Drew up the water cold and clear?

Would they? Well, yes, they would, I think;
At any rate, I want that drink.

THE HAPPIEST THOUGHT

What is the happiest thought you ever knew?
When was the sweetest breath you ever drew?
Was it in your babyhood,

When, as every baby should,

You saw your mother bending o'er,

As often she had done before,

And recognized her loving smile,
Returning it in baby style,

And heard her gleefully exclaim,
As tenderly she spoke your name,

"O, baby laughed; dear baby laughed!" While from your neck she kisses quaffed? Was that the happiest thought you ever knew? Was that the sweetest breath you ever drew?

Or was your thought much happier later on,
The moment sweeter far than any gone,

When, in your bright maturity,

With vowed and pledged security,

You called your loved one then your own,
A king or queen upon the throne

Of wedded bliss; no more to part,
But each the other's hand and heart?
O union sweet! O bond divine!
O light of God on thee and thine!
What benedictions breathed by friend!
What promised rapture without end!
Was that the happiest thought you ever knew?
Was then the sweetest breath you ever drew?

Or have you now the happiest thought of all?
And is your present breath the sweetest you recall?
Have you attained amenity,

A satisfied serenity,

Of aim and wish and hope fulfilled,
The goal of all you ever willed?
Are prospects good for calm old age,
With plentitude for every stage?

Are friends around you warm and true?
Upholding you in what you do?

Abounding, buoyant, glorious life,
Complacence-filled and free from strife?

This happiest thought to you I would bequeath;
This sweetest breath this moment yours to breathe.

DELIGHT AT HOME

Home should be a place of supreme delight. It is there we spend most of our time; it is there we refresh ourselves with food and rest; it is there we find the endless varieties of pleasure known to earth; it is there that the most holy joy of humanity, that of parents in their children, becomes a sweet realization. Nature multiplies the delights of home. The recurrence of the seasons-spring, summer, autumn, autumn, winter-gives unceasing variations in landscape views, foliage tints, climatic changes, and domestic activities, so that the dwellers at home have a taste, if not a satiety, in all that is beautiful, wholesome, and entertaining in the round of the years.

The great sun, too, in his daily round, furnishes a succession of delightful views in never-ending variety. As Ruskin says: "There is not a moment of any day of our lives when Nature is not producing scene after scene, picture after picture, glory after glory, and working still upon such exquisite and constant principles of the most perfect beauty, that it is quite certain it is all done for us, and intended for our perpetual pleasure."

Nor does beauty end with the day. Night has its own attractions-the silvery moon, the twinkling stars, the silent air, the dewy freshness without, and the cheery atmosphere, brilliant illumination, and glowing warmth within, all tending, as the hours of evening pass and the need of rest is felt, to make us repeat the refrain, as true as it is old, "There is no place like home."

Outside fall the snowflakes lightly;

Through the night loud raves the storm;

In my room the fire glows brightly,

And 't is cozy, silent, warm.

And this leads to say that the chief delights of home are within its doors, where the old family clock is ticking off the

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