5 10 This is the ballad the Bluebird sings, Unto his mate replying, Shaking the tune from his wings Surely, surely, surely, Life is dear Even here. Blue above, You to love, Purely, purely, purely. There's wild azalea on the hill, and roses down the dell, And just one spray of lilac still abloom beside the well; 15 The columbine adorns the rocks, the laurel buds grow pink, Along the stream white arums gleam, and violets bend to drink. 20 This is the song of the Yellowthroat, Fluttering gayly beside you; Hear how each voluble note Offers to guide you: Then come, my friend, forget your foes, and leave your fears behind, And wander forth to try your luck, with cheerful, For be your fortunes great or small, you'll take what God may give, 10 And all the day your heart shall say, ""T is luck 15 enough to live." This is the song the Brown Thrush flings, Out of his thicket of roses; what time: at the time when. reveille (pronounced in our army rěv à lẽ): a signal for the soldiers to arise in the morning. - sally: a bursting forth. — voluble: easily rolling. — repining : sorrowing. DOBBS HENRY WOODFIN GRADY HENRY WOODFIN GRADY (1851-1889), an American editor and orator, was born in Athens, Georgia, and educated at the University of Georgia. At the age of eighteen he began his editorial life on the Rome Courier. In 1880, through the generosity of Cyrus W. Field of New York, who lent him twenty thousand 5 dollars to buy a fourth interest in the Atlanta Constitution, he became managing editor of that paper. The success which it achieved was largely due to his genius. At the time of Grady's early death he was regarded as one of the most eloquent of our orators. Throughout his life he had an earnest and practical sympathy for the lonely and the poor. Even in his boyhood days he would send many a little negro ragamuffin to his mother's home with such a note as this: 10 Dear Mother: Please give this child something to eat. He looks 15 so hungry. H. W. G. His had been indeed a wonderful career in many ways. He could have had any office he wanted, though he cared for none; he could move his fellow-men whenever and wherever he spoke to them; he had the genius of the organizer and the journalist; he 20 wrought a great work of reconciliation for the nation. - TRENT. I am proud of my acquaintance with Dobbs. He was a hero whose deeds were not spread upon any of the books of men, but whose martyrdom I am sure illustrates a glowing page in God's great 25 life book. I met him late one night. 10 15 The paper, with its burden of news and gossip, had just been put to press, and I strolled out of the hot, clanking room to catch a sight of the cool morning stars and a whiff of the dew-laden breezes 5 of the dawn. Silhouetted against the intercepted stars I saw a tall and striking form standing like a statue in the corner. As I came out of the door the figure approached. "Is this the Herald office, sir?" 66 Yes, sir. Can I serve you in any way?" "Well" hesitating for an instant, and then speaking boldly and sharply; "I wanted to know if you could not trust me for a few papers?" "I suppose so; walk in to the light.' I shall never forget the impression Dobbs made on me that night, as we two walked in from the starlight to the glare of the gas-burners. As I have said before, he had a tall and strik20 ing figure. His face was ugly. He was ungraceful, ragged, and uncouth. Yet there was a splendid glow of honesty that shone from every feature and challenged your admiration. It was not that cheap honesty that suffuses the face of your aver25 age honest man, but a vivid burst of light that, fed by principle, sent its glow from the heart. It was |