The Wind Is in the Maples. fhe wind is in the maples And there's music in the pines, Che hemlock scent has burdened all the air; For 1 hear the mountains calling Where the sun forever shines And my feet would even wander vou there, Oh, to wade among the daisies To the thickets dusk and dim When the birds and are at the noon we plucked with bees slum brous Wher blossoms 1 the berrieg from rit } cented meadows at the dogwood the stem old fashioned gar- and rose, memories merged Oleander blows the summer's cool and i day iden skies, for- 1e turnpike nown hay ire you ve Pontifex's u can find Mra. Pon tl ra + Kil ou hor Hel husband re geniuses in gents dg much except abuse Now, Anne Maria, in as ever was a hund London and that advert. in | thousand sand parade all the great and towns of this country: al balloons will up all over | just to chuck the leaflets the factory of 's other them literary this excoent Reem other ee days’ time morning papers in will place; a the country have a prominent wich men will lot of 20 the country iown on the people's "eds; river will gas, and-—where was | Oh, Jehu, you are a wonder! can't you do? But the expense” Blow the expense, as the girl said | when she told the waiter to bring an- sardine on toast. But listen Maria. Baggs, our most trust. ed employee, as we call him, with several helps, will be all over the country a