RURAL RAMBLES.

Over the hills as the pewee flies, ’Neath the glorious blue of summer skies; Through briery wastes where wild birds dwell, Deep in the shade of some rocky dell;

Where the pennyroyal and mint smell sweet, And the blackberry ripens in cool and heat; Down the winding path by the rippling rill, By the old-time creek, by the dear old mill;

By the vine-clad fence, in the alder’s shade Where woodchucks and merry squirrels invade; Through spreading fields of daisies bright, Where butterflies roam from morn till night;

Past upland and hollow whence scents are blown Of clover blossoms and flowers well known; Over swamp and marshland where red-wings sing, While in flag and tussock their nest they swing;

Through ancient orchards, o’er meadows green, Where roses and buttercups girt the stream; Away through the woodlands’ emerald shade By sparkling springs, through fern-clad glade,

By old quarry ponds where memories cling And gay swallows circle on tireless wing; From dawn’s early light till twilight’s gloaming, With scenes ever changing, there’s pleasure in roaming. —Berton Mercer.