One of the few delights of life in camp is the opportunity the tent affords of ready access to the open air. There is no traversing of stairways, no crossing of halls, and no opening of reluctant doors, but only the parting of the canvas, and our world is as wide as the horizon and high as the heavens. Even when the tent door-flap is snugly closed, nature is not wholly shut out. Often I have lain looking up at the stars as they passed slowly across the central opening, and listened to the flight of the birds as they travelled northward at the coming of spring. And I have watched the birth of many a day, from the first quivering primrose hue to the full flush and glow of rosy colour, and then the stirring breeze, the waking leaves, and the call of the birds breaking into song.

One morning I rose from my blankets and stepped out under the broad dome of the sky, while all about me in their shadowy tents the people slept. I wandered toward a glen, down which the water from a little spring hurried to the brook. As I sat among the fresh undergrowth, I watched the stars grow dim and the thin line of smoke rise from the tents, telling that the mother had risen to blow the embers to a blaze and to put another stick or two upon the fire.

As I sat, thinking a multitude of thoughts, I heard a rustling upon the hill opposite me. Then there was silence, quickly broken by movements in another direction; while from the hill came the clear voice of a young man singing. In a moment more two women, whom I recognised as aunt and niece, appeared at the spring, the one elderly, the other young and pretty; but the singer was still invisible. The cadences of the song were blithe and glad, like the birds and the breezes laden with summer fragrance. The words, "I see them coming!" carried a double meaning. The girl for whom he had waited was in truth coming, but to the singer was also coming the delight of growing love and abundant hope.

TRYSTING LOVE SONG.

Omaha.

Harmonized by Prof. J.C. Fillmore.

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The women filled their water vessels. The elder took no note of the song, but turned steadily toward the home path. The eyes of the maiden had been slyly searching the hillside as she slowly neared the spring and dipped up the sparkling water. Now, as the aunt walked away, the song ceased; and a light rustling followed, as the lover, bounding down the hill, leaped the brook and was at the side of the girl. A few hasty words, a call from the aunt, a lingering parting, and I was alone again. The brook went babbling on, but telling no tales, the birds were busy with their own affairs, and the sunbeams winked brightly through the leaves. The little rift, giving a glimpse of the inner life of two souls, had closed and left no outward sign; and yet the difference!

There was a measured thud upon the trail, and an old woman with stooping shoulders passed down the glen. As she bent over the spring and took her water supply, I heard the young man's voice in the distance, singing his song as he wended his way home. The old woman heard it, too. She straightened up and looked steadily in the direction of the singer, slowly shook her head, picked up her water vessel, and turned away, her crooked figure disappearing in the shadows. Then I arose and followed the singer, trying to forget the warning shake of the old woman's head.