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IT seemed, as we were attempting to make the awards this month, as if some kindly spirit of excellence had inspired the efforts of every one of the League contributors. In each department of the competition the work is of an unusually high standard. Indeed it is so uniformly good that we find it difficult to offer any but the most all-inclusive congratulations. If, however, the work of a particular group is to be singled out for special comment, the wielders of the pen and brush must be mentioned first. They stand at the head of the prize-winners with an array of two gold and five silver badges to their credit. Of this honor they may justly be proud, for the drawings we have considered worthy of reproduction in this issue are remarkably clever, both in arrangement and in treatment. Two or three, in their technical excellence, compare favorably with the work of experienced illustrators. In fact, the task of sifting and selecting the prize-winning drawings from the great mass of material submitted was almost like choosing the winners of the Olympic meet —each represented the finished work of one well qualified to compete. Let us hope, in future competitions, that the selection may be as difficult and the quality as high.

cLark webster, age 15. (Hoxor moniser- |

Close behind the artists come the poets of the League, whose contributions, always good, maintain their usual standard of excellence. The mysticism and romance of the great forests, the solitude and grandeur of leafy boughs and shady dells, are voiced with rare feeling in many bits of exquisite verse, under the title, “A Song of the Woods.” Seldom, indeed, have better examples of the songster's art graced the League pages, and never has the nature-thought been more beautifully and tenderly expressed.

Many interesting stories of “Seaside Adventures” – reminiscent or fictional in character— do much to reflect credit on the pens of their young authors. All of the stories are entertaining, some are amusing, and a few give great promise for the future. These, with a host of photographs showing all manner of animals and people “On the March,” help to maintain the notable level of this month's competition, and make it difficult to single out any class of contribution as more worthy of comment than the others. Everything is good, and all our young workers can share alike in the glory, for there is plenty to go well around, with still some left over.


In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.

PROSE. Gold badge, Elizabeth Finley (age 13), New York City.
Silver badges, Josephine R. Carter (age 10), Elizabeth, N. J.; Muriel Irving (age 15), Tompkinsville, S. I. : Dorothy

M. Hoogs (age 15), Honolulu, Hawaii.

VERSE. Gold badge, Anna Torrey (age 14), Providence, R. I.
Silver badges, S. V. Benét (age 13), Augusta, Ga.; Margaret Tildsley (age 11), Spuyten Duyvil, N. Y. ; Nellie
Adams (age 13), Placerville, Cal. : Margaret L. Shields (age 15), Hillsboro, O.

DRAWINGS. Gold badges, Dorothy E. Handsacker (age 13), Tacoma, Wash.; Margaret Conty (age 16), New

York City.

Silver badges, John Milton (age 14), New York City; Helen M. Roth (age 15), Oakland, Cal. ; Leonora Bemis (age 17),
Milton, Mass.; Dorothy Hughes (age 14), Brooklyn, N. Y.; Marjorie Benson (age 17), Flushing, N. Y.

PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badge, Paull Jacob (age 17), Wellsburg, W. Va.

Silver badges, Carol Clark (age 14), London, Eng.: Christine J. Wagner (age 15), Mansfield, O.; Catharine E.
Langdon (age 15), Toronto, Can. ; J. Sherwin Murphy (age 15), Chicago, Ill. ; Dorothy Coate (age 17), New
Orleans, La.
PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badges, Henry Wilson (age 13), Columbus, O.; Margaret M. Dooley (age 16), Oakland,
Cal. ; Mary Berger (age 13), Milwaukee, Wis.; Helena A. Irvine (age 12), Vancouver, B. C.
PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badges, George Locke Howe (age 14), Bristol, R. I. ; Alfred Hand, 3d (age 14),
Scranton, Pa.

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A SONG OF THE WOODS BY ANNA toRREY (AGE 1.4) (Gold Badge) DEEP in the forest, where a mighty oak Flings grateful shadow o'er a wandering stream,

Where tall ferns nod, and velvet mosses creep, I love to lie and dream.

I love to watch the shy, wild wood folk pass,
To hear the oak leaves murmur in the breeze;

And see the dancing sunlight try to pierce
Between the shading trees.

“on the MARch.” By carol. Clark, AGF 14. (silver BADGE.)

I love to hear the brook, with song and laugh,
Go chattering and gurgling on its way,

By grassy banks where wild flowers scent the air,
By lichened boulders gray.

And when the twilight comes with soothing touch,
And whispering breezes healing coolness bring,

I love to linger in the woods at dusk,
And hear the thrushes sing.

A SEASIDE ADVENTURE by Joseph INE. R. CARTER (AGE 1 o' (Silver Badge) ONE morning I was playing with a friend in the sand at a little place on Long Island. Not very far away, we saw a life-boat lying on the beach ; we thought it would be fun to play in it, so we got in, and were rocking and trying to make it sail (on sand), when a big wave came up and lifted it a little. We were delighted with this, and rocked it some more. Soon a bigger wave came, and this time it lifted the boat off the sand and carried it out. When I realized this, I screamed for help. My little friend's mother was sitting on the beach, and when she saw us going, she screamed too. A life-saver happened to be fussing with a boat near by. He caught the situation at a glance, and, dropping everything, rushed after our boat, which was going quickly out into deep water. We were terribly frightened when we saw the big waves almost on top of us, and I do not know what would have happened if he had not caught our boat just when he did. He watched his chance, and when the next wave came, rushed us with it to the shore. In a few moments we were safe and sound on the beach. I tell you, I was never so glad to get back to the land in my life, and thus end my first “seaside adventure.”

A SONG OF THE WOODS BY s. v. BENET (AGE 13) (Silver Badge) There 's many a forest in the world, In many lands leaves fall; But Sherwood, merry Sherwcod, Is the fairest wood of all.

They say that on midsummer night,
If mortal eyes could see aright,
Or mortal ears could hear,
A wanderer on Sherwood's grass
Would see the band of Robin pass,
Still hunting of the deer.

And sometime to his ears might come
The beating of an elfin drum.
Where Puck, the tricksy sprite,
Would dance around a fairy ring,
With others of his gathering,
All on midsummer night.

Queen Guinevere would ride again
With all her glittering, courtly train,
Through Sherwood's lovely glades;
'Til dawn begins to glow near by,
And from the kingdom of the sky.
The magic darkness fades.

There 's many a forest in the tworld,
In many lands leaves fall;

But Sherwood, merry Sherwood,
Is the fairest wood of all.

THE MARSDEN GHOST, A SEASIDE ADVENTURE BY MURIEL I Rv1NG (AGE 1.5) (Silver Badge) MR. Allisox, his wife, and his son Will came to live at Bradford Manor in the year eighteen hundred and ninety-four. There was on this estate a high tower, named for Richard Marsden, an old astronomer, to whom the estate had previously belonged.

“on the MARch.” by cAthARINE E. LANGdon, age 15. (silver badge.)

There were many wild tales told about this tower. Some related how the ghost of a lady in white went weeping and moaning up and down the long winding stairs of the tower; others, that the swish of her dresses was heard in the wee, small hours of the night.


Personally, Will Allison had no belief in ghosts, but he determined to find out upon what this story was based. So, taking a lantern and a light lunch, he started out for the tower about eight o'clock one evening. From eight to ten, he heard nothing except the wind rushing through the trees and the open window of the tower. About ten o'clock he thought he heard something, and then he jumped with fright as a strange weird scream and a moan were heard. Then came a swish and he felt something soft touch him as it glided by. Although he was thoroughly terrified, he determined to go up the stairs to see if there was anything to be seen.

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Slowly climbing the stairs, waiting every few seconds for a sound, which did not come, at last he reached the top. Again he heard the swish and felt something touch him. Turning his lantern toward the corner from which the sound came, he found—a nest of baby screech-owls.


THE broad Atlantic washes up on a certain beach in Massachusetts. Down this beach, a few years ago, came a lady, a baby, and two boys. As the four came near to the ocean, the lady, taking the baby, sat on some shaded rocks.

“Left Behind.” by John Mutton, age 14. (silver badge.)

“We 're going down the beach a little ways,” the oldest boy, Donald, said.

After walking a considerable distance, the boys came to an old wrecked ship. They quickly made their way into its cabin, which contained three bunks.

They found many treasures there which appealed to their boyish hearts, among which were two old guns, an old hand-bag, and some powder. The boys, after investigating the cabin a little more, went back to their mother and the baby. That night, at home, they had the bag cut open, and lo and behold, it contained nothing more or less than two red shirts and a red nightcap. When the boys’ father saw the contents of the bag, he said, quite surprised : “Why, those are mine; your mother gave them to the Salvation Army a little while ago.” And all the family laughed heartily, for it was so.


RATHER than riches and castles,
I 'd have the daffodils mine;

Rather than rubies and diamonds.
I 'd have the brook's rippling rhyme.

I love the woods more than glory,
I love the flow’rs more than fame :

I love the trees and the meadows
More than a heroic name.

And though some people will treasure A ruby much more than a tree,

Give me the woods and the flowers, And give me leave to be free.

by Dorothy M. Hoogs (AGE 1.5)
(Silver Badge)

IN the Hawaiian Islands, almost all the natives are in constant contact with the sea, and they are just as much at home in the water as on the land.

Captain “Sam,” an old and hardy Hawaiian sea master, was sailing off the rocky shores of Molokai one starlit night in the little schooner Moi Wahine. There was not a sound except for the little waves lapping against the boat. Suddenly she was rammed by the steel prow of the lighthouse tender Kukui, and sunk more than twenty miles from land. Captain Sam floundered about annong the wreckage, and then headed toward the island of Lanai. Several members of his crew were with him, but they, being Koreans, were not so adapted to the sea as their master, and soon became too exhausted to keep up any longer, and went down forever. The captain struggled on, freeing himself of his clothes, and then struck out, bound to win in his race with death. His long-passed youth came back

“on the March.” By christiNE 1. wag NFR, AGE 1.5. (silver hange.)

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