File:Almost Dinner Time, by William Steeple Davis, 1909.jpg

Identifier: stnicholasserial372dodg (find matches)
Title: St. Nicholas (serial)
Year: 1909 (1870s)
Authors: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: (New York : Scribner & Co.)
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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een;The windows are curtained the coziest way That ever was thought of or seen ;And as for the ceiling, it s blue as the sky; And we ve crimson globe-lamps in the fall —In the spring we have pink, and in summer use none (Such a saving!), in Apple-Tree Hall. All the neighbors are charming, —so musical, too ! Madam Thrush has a voice like a bird,And the love-songs she sings (in Italian, I think) Are the sweetest we ever have heard.Then the dryads and wood-nymphs dwell close to us, too, Though they are too bashful to call.The society really is quite of the best When we re living at Apple-Tree Hall. Oh, I wish I could tell you one half of our plays,And the fine things we plan when we re there, Of the books that we 11 write and the deeds that we 11 doIn the years that wait, shining and fair. 1064 APPLE-TREE HALL 1065 My mother says, sometimes,—and so does Aunt Kate, That these are the best days of all;But wc think it s just the beginning of fun, Keeping house here in Apple-Tree Hall!
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ALMOST DINNER-TIME!FROM A PAINTING BY WILLIAM STEEPLE DAVIS. THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD In the heart of London, where the busy Strandchanges its name and becomes equally busy FleetStreet, one may turn into a narrow lane runningsouth between two rows of buildings. In a mo-ment the many noises of the street melt into asteady hum, and here, a few steps farther on,one enters the quiet inclosure where stands theTemple Church, gray and weather-worn with thestorms and sunshine of seven hundred years. Inthe shadow of this building lies a little church-yard, and hither every year come many visitorsbecause, more than a century ago, Oliver Gold-smith was buried here. For this quaint, clever, big-hearted Irishman,awkward and homely as he was, seems to find aswarm a place to-day in the hearts of those whoread his books or laugh at his play as he did inthe hearts of those who knew him when he lived. While his friends found in his oddities an un-failing source of merriment and were foreverjoking at his

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