A Play House by the Brook
By Emma Lawrence Joyner
One bright June day while out walking in the woods, I came to a little brook which immediately attracted my attention, for there, on one side of it was a charming play house, made, no doubt, by Mother Nature.
This which was so wonderful to my child-like mind a large tree whose numerous branches extended almost to the ground and found an admirable swing. In the middle was an old stump on which moss grew. This furnished an ideal table.
The most interesting feature of this attractive little play house however, was a very comfortable rock chair, sculptured by the weather. I sat in this and found it a very good resting place after so long a tramp through the woods.
Pretty wild flowers surrounding tis play house further beautified it and made it complete.
On a Lonesome Trail
By Maurice Clifton
“Gee, this is some walking. These little round stones hurt my feet,” said a scout to his fellow scout, who was just behind him. “I wonder how much father it is to the top of this mountain,” said the same scout, who was becoming a little more discouraged.
“I don’t know, but I hope it isn’t far, because it is so troublesome walking on rocks, in gulleys, and a 12 inch plank over a creek, I’ll tell you, it isn’t much fun,” said the other scout.
The trail began to get narrower and narrower the farther they went. They had to go through thick bushes, and walk in washouts, and sometimes the trail led them right up to an old stream bed. At times they had to step over old logs which were across the path. They saw small fragments of rock which had come from some larger rocks which had weathered and crumbled.
They were near the top, they had one more creek to cross, they had to go through a forest about a quarter of a mile, through some tall broom straw, and then they could see the top of the mountain. When they had reached the top, they could view in the distance a river meandering its way through the foot of the mountains. They could see for miles around in all directions. They could observe great rocks which were being worn away by the weather. One boy saw a lake and he asked his scoutmaster what it was doing up there. His scoutmaster told him that it was probably a crater lake.
Most of the boys had studied “Physical Geography,” and because of this they discovered many very interesting things on top of the mountain on the “Lonesome Trail.” One boy said, “That trail deserves its name.”
After the scouts had devoured what little food they had, they started down the trail to their camp at the foot of the mountains, both leader and followers ready to proclaim a most delightful as well as a profitable experience.
A Play House by the Brook
By Virginia E. Perry
One bright July morning, a friend and I planned to go out tramping to see what we could find to amuse ourselves. After wandering for a time, we came to a beautiful meadow through which a tiny stream flowed. We started up stream and found that the stream started from a spring at the foot of a gentle slope. We then started down stream and suddenly we saw where the water had begun cutting the banks away. The farther we went we found it cutting more until it had cut a real gorge, not very deep, but the water was rushing through swiftly doing as much work as possible. We continued our journey until we came to where the stream flowed through an almost level plain and on account of this the rate of the stream was checked greatly. Jutting from the bank was a medium size tree limb. This held the sediment because the stream had lost nearly all its power to move its load along. Day after day the sediment was deposited there until finally there was a bar about a foot wide, the top just above the water, extending from one part of bank to another, forming a complete lake. On the bank facing the lake was a small cave. I imagine it was caused by the stream flowing against it and cutting away all the material it could, leaving only the hard strata and rock. The top of the cave was formed by an overhanging rock. My friend suggested that we build a play house in the cave and one on the bar. We did so. We used the lake as our highway from the home of the shore to the one on the bar of sediment.
A Play House by the Brook
By Annie Willis Boddie
It was a beautiful play house, situated on the large rock overhanging the picturesque little brook. The rock was of special interest to us because of the scratches and worn places on it, which go to prove that it was brought down by the great glacier which once covered our great continent. The brook, too, was interesting and unusually convenient for washing the broken bits of china we used as dishes. Sometimes little islands would form in the very middle of the stream. Whenever this would happen we would desert our dolls and domestic life and become pirates as bold and as blood thirsty as ever reached the pages of a history book. Although our play house was not as attractive in winter as in summer, we loved to play on its icy surface and see the water of the book hurrying on under the layer of frozen snow. One day we took one of mother’s glasses out with us, filled it with water and left it. The next morning we hurried out after it but the water had frozen and the glass was broken in two.
When spring came it rained for 10 successive days. Needless to say we had to remain indoors. When the water subsided we immediately visited the play house but Alas! the brook had become flooded and overflowed its banks and our play house was no more.