Winter

" THE MAKING OF A MAN 141 Among Mr. Middleton's business callers that morning was a broad-shouldered young man, of medium height, whose keen, yet friendly, blue eyes, seemed to take in every detail of the office; while he waited. His straight, easy carriage, and heavily tanned face bespoke heavy training in the open air. "Mr. Middleton, I believe," said the stranger, smiling and extending his hand. "Yes, sir. You are representing this firm?" asked the merchant, indicating the card which he held in his hand. "Yes, sir. I am one of the stockholders; and I just — There was a swift movement from the direction of the inner office, and the next instant he held in his arms a little greyhaired woman, down whose cheeks streamed tears of joy. "Oh Jim, Jim, don't you know him? It's Don! Oh, my boy, my boy Thank heaven, you did come home at last." ! A few minutes later, Mr. Middleton, his eyes sparkling with a father's pride, stood with one arm around his wife, the other resting across the shoulders of his newly found son. "My boy, you have made this the happiest day of our lives. Your little mother and I have hoped and prayed, through all these years, that some day our son might come back to us, a man. Winter The Summer is past and the North Winds are blowing. The bright orb of morning sinks quickly to rest, Whilst the spire and the hilltops loom dim in the distance For darkness comes early at Winter's behest. Tall trees in the forest now wave their bare branches, The little boughs shivering shrink in the wind, But the heart fills with gladness for always around us Some beauty in nature some treasure we find. The hard frosts are crusting the lakes and the river And icicles glisten like gems in the sun, While the shrubs in the garden are robed in white splendor Nature's artist unrivalled moves busily on. The blossoms of summer give place to the holly. Like stars in the gloaming they peep through the snow, Fair visions of mistletoe soft as the dewdrop. Gleam in sweet purity under their bough. As the joybells of Christmas steal over the snowdrift, Our hearts rise and swell like the waves on the blue, And peace, gentle peace, fills our souls as a river, As the old year departs and we welcome the new. Hannah Bennett