Rest in our memories! You are guarded there
By those who knew you as you lived and were.
There mid our Happy Thoughts you take your stand,
A sun-girt shade, and light that shadow-land.
R.C.L.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Captain_ (_newly attached_). "ER--IS THERE ANYTHING YOU'D
LIKE ME TO GET ON TO, SIR?"
_Major_ (_regimental economist_). "AH, YES! I WISH YOU'D JUST LOOK AFTER
THE BONES AND DRIPPING."]
* * * * *
CHILDREN'S TALES FOR GROWN-UPS.
VIII.
SOUR GRAPES.
"I have no doubt," said the fox, after a last futile attempt to reach them,
"that the grapes are sour;" and he went off slowly down the hill.
At the bottom of the hill a barrel was lying, and the philosopher was
filled with new hope. "The very thing," he said to himself.
He put his shoulder to the barrel and pushed and panted and panted and
pushed till he got it nearly to the top. But it broke away at the last
moment and rolled down the hill.
He rolled it up again and again perseveringly. He tried as often as
Sisyphus. He tried indeed just once more, because at last he succeeded and
the barrel was placed on end under the vine.
Pages:
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40