search for health by chartering a yacht for a voyage
through the South Seas. It was on this trip that he fell in love with the
beauty of the scenery and the healthful climate of Samoa, and in 1890 he
took up his home there, never again to leave the island except for
occasional visits to Honolulu and Sydney. And when the time came for him
to die, the natives, with their knives and axes cut a path up the steep
mountain-side and carried him on their broad shoulders to his grave on the
mountain-top.

"A Child's Garden of Verses" was first published in London in 1885, and
long ago became a children's classic; yet it is now for the first time
made available as a supplementary reader for the primary grades in a
suitable form and at a possible price. There have been many and beautiful
editions, but they have all appealed to "grown-ups" rather than to boys
and girls to whom the book really belongs. To put such a book, with its
simple style, its wise observations, its kindly sympathy, and fanciful
humor into the hands of a boy or girl, is not only to make him happy, it
is to start him on the straight path to culture.

This volume contains all the poems originally appearing under the title "A
Child's Garden of Verses." The poems grouped under "The Child Alone,"
"Garden Days," and "Envoys" have been omitted, as many of them are too
philosophical to be understood by children in the primary grades.

The illustrations in this book are used by special arrangement with Harper
& Brothers of New York City, who publish the complete "Verses" in a
beautiful edition suitable for the home or the library.

So with Stevenson's own words the book is yours:

"Go little book, and wish to all,
Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,
A living river by the door,
A nightingale in the sycamore."

E. O. G.

TO
ALISON CUNNINGHAM
FROM HER BOY

[Illustration]

For the long nights you lay awake
And watched for my unworthy sake:
For your most comfortable hand
That led me through the uneven land:
For all the story-books you read:
For all the pains you comforted:
For all you pitied, all you bore,
In sad and happy days of yore:--
My second Mother, my first Wife,
The angel of my infant life--
From the sick child, now well and old,
Take, nurse, the little book you hold!

And grant it, Heaven, that all who read
May find as dear a nurse at need,
And every