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.
