Le magazine de la Nouvelle-Angleterre. ace appartenait également à la maison. Le Chapitre Molly Varnum, nommé forthe épouse Du Major-général Joseph BradleyVarnum de Dracut, a été formé en 1894 par Mme. Frederic T. Greenhalge. Il s'agit maintenant de deux cent vingt-cinq mém-bers, et a déjà beaucoup fait dans le travail patriotique théactif des filles de la Révolution américaine. Natures TOUS LES SAINTS JOUR Par J. C. CROWELL Quand les arbres ont donné leurs feuilles,— Le ruset, jaune, carré-hued, Dans le deuil douloureux chaque grieves, Bewlaing oft sa solitude.Witch-hazel sanctuaires puis garder la journée, Tous les Saints, en mémoire de t

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The New England magazine . ace also belonged in thehouse. The Molly Varnum Chapter, named forthe wife of Major-General Joseph BradleyVarnum of Dracut, was formed in 1894 byMrs. Frederic T. Greenhalge. It now con-sists of two hundred and twenty-five mem-bers, and has already done much in theactive patriotic work of the Daughters ofthe American Revolution. NATURES ALL SAINTS DAY By J. C. CROWELL When trees have given up their leaves, — The russet, yellow, scarlet-hued, In sore bereavement each one grieves, Bewailing oft her solitude.Witch-hazel shrines then keep the day, All Saints, in memory of these dead;Along their spreading branches sway, When mystic Halloween hath fled, Pale yellow tapers, burning slow, That breathe an incense pungent, sweet;Nor but the day: they flicker low Thro Indian Summers sad retreat, Till from the hills she lifts the haze; Then vanish. Now stand desolateThe shrines, deserted thro long days. They, too, for Natures Easter wait! OLD KING SPRUCE By HOLMAN F. DAY IX. THE HANT OF THE UMCOLCUS. ADE, blinking the big flakesout of his eyes as he breastedthe swirling storm, came acrossto the main camp from thewangan, his pipe and tobacco-pouch in hand. He rejoiced in his heart tosee the snow driving so thickly that thecamp window was only a blur of yellow lightsmudging the whiteness. This third stormof the winter promised two feet on a leveland guaranteed the slipping on ram-downsand twitch-roads0. The cheer of the storm permeated all thecamp on Enchanted. The cook beamed onWade with floury face. The bare groundhad meant bare shelves. He predicted thefirst supply-team for the morrow. He hadbeen thriftily making a mitten out of amouses ear for several weeks, on the foodquestion. Tommy Eye, plowing back fromhis good-night visit to the horse-hovel, pro-claimed his general pleasure for two rea-sons: no more bare-ground dragging forthe bob-sleds; no more too liberal dosingof bread dough with soap to make the flourspend in lighter loaves. Eats like windand

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