"I find a fine current of feeling through the pages. They are touched throughout with the hues of poetry and the noblest ideals of life."--Edwin Markham. (First published under the title "Springtime and Harvest")
at I finished college last spring, as I wrote you, and I'm teaching school at Hilltown."
"And you like it?"
"I hate it; but I have to keep alive, to try to be a poet. And that is the news about myself."
"Except," added Helen, "that you walked twelve miles this glorious Saturday morning to welcome me home, which was beautiful. And of course you'll stay over Sunday, now you're here; I can invite you myself, you know, for I've come home to take the reins of government. You never saw such a sight in your life as my poor father has made of our house; he's got the parlor all full of those horrible theological works of his, just as if God had never made anything beautiful! And since I've been away that dreadful Mrs. Dale has gotten complete charge of the church, and she's one of those creatures that wouldn't allow you to burn a candle in the organ loft; and father never was of any use for quarreling about things." (Helen's father, the Reverend Austin Davis, was the rector of the little Episcopal church in t