OVER AND OVER AGAIN

ANONYMOUS

OVER and over again,

No matter which way I turn, I always find in the book of life, Some lesson I have to learn.

I must take my turn at the mill,

I must grind out the golden grain,

I must work at my task with a resolute will, Over and over again.

We cannot measure the need

Of even the tiniest flower,

Nor check the flow of the golden sands
That run through a single hour;

But the morning dews must fall,
And the sun and the summer rain
Must do their part, and perform it all
Over and over again.

Over and over again

The brook through the meadow flows,

And over and over again

The ponderous mill wheel goes.

Once doing will not suffice,

Though doing be not in vain ;

And a blessing failing us once or twice,
May come if we try again.

The path that has once been trod,

Is never so rough to the feet;

And the lesson we once have learned,

Is never so hard to repeat.

Though sorrowful tears must fall,

And the heart to its depths be driven

With storm and tempest, we need them all
To render us meet for heaven.

A PROBLEM IN DIVISION

FROM THE ARABIC

AR to the east there lived, in the days of old, an Arab

FAR

who was known in all the country round. Now this man had neither gold nor silver, houses nor lands; but of horses he had seven and ten.

Fleet as the wind, graceful as a deer, and gentle as a dove were each and all of these beautiful horses. Their owner loved them next to his own sons. Not one would he sell, no, not for the wealth of kings or princes.

Now it came to pass that the Arab suddenly became ill unto death. And he called his three sons together that he might divide his riches among them. To the oldest, he gave one half of his horses, to the second son, one third, and to the youngest, one ninth.

When the days of mourning were ended, the sons met to divide the horses according to their father's will, and they were greatly troubled.

"How can I take one half of seventeen horses?" said the eldest son. "A living horse cannot be cut in twain."

"And how can I," said the second son, "possess one third of seventeen horses? But such was my father's command."

"My father's words I fain would keep," said the youngest son, "but one ninth of seventeen horses will give a merciful man but one."

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"I see a holy man riding by," said the eldest son. "Let us make him our judge."

Now when the case was laid before the monk, he thought long and carefully. And then he spoke :

"Accept, I pray thee, my poor steed, and let him be added to the seventeen." This was done, and the eighteen horses were brought before the judge.

"The eldest son may now take one half the horses," directed the monk. And the eldest son led forth nine. "Let the second son take one third as his own," continued the wise man.

The second son called his favorite horses, and six noble horses came running to his side.

"One ninth is the share of the youngest son, and therefore two are his lot, for so do I judge," again said the wise monk.

"Well hast thou judged!" said all the sons.

O holy man, name thy reward."

"And now,

"I will take all the horses that are left," said the monk, with a smile. And he rode away with neither more nor less than his own.

THE FAIRIES OF CALDON-LOW

MARY HOWITT

AND where have you been, my Mary,

And where have you been from me?"

"I've been to the top of the Caldon-Low, The midsummer night to see!"

“And what did you see, my Mary,

All up on the Caldon-Low?"

"I saw the blithe sunshine come down, And I saw the merry winds blow."

"And what did you hear, my Mary, All up on the Caldon Hill?"

"I heard the drops of water made, And I heard the corn ears fill."

“Oh, tell me all, my Mary,

All, all that ever you know;
For you must have seen the fairies
Last night on the Caldon-Low."

"Then take me on your knee, mother,
And listen, mother of mine:

A hundred fairies danced last night,
And the harpers they were nine.

"And merry was the glee of the harp strings And their dancing feet so small,

But, oh, the sound of their talking
Was merrier far than all !"

"And what were the words, my Mary,

That you did hear them say?" "I'll tell you all, my mother,

But let me have my way.

"And some they played with the water

And rolled it down the hill;

And this,' they said, shall speedily turn The poor old miller's mill;

"For there has been no water

Ever since the first of May;
And a busy man shall the miller be
By the dawning of the day!

"Oh, the miller, how he will laugh,
When he sees the mill dam rise!
The jolly old miller, how he will laugh,
Till the tears fill both his eyes!

"And some they seized the little winds, That sounded over the hill,

And each put a horn into his mouth,

And blew so sharp and shrill!