THE GOOSE.

=Arbor Day=

No uniform date in the different States

Arbor Day is a designated day upon which the people and especially the
school children plant trees and shrubs along the highways and other
suitable places. It was first observed in Nebraska. The State board of
agriculture offered prizes for the counties and persons planting the
largest number of trees, and it is said that more than a million trees
were planted the first year, while within sixteen years over 350,000,000
trees and vines were planted in the State.

This custom, so beautiful and useful, spread rapidly, and now is
recognized by the statutes of many of the States.

The exact date naturally varies with the climate.

=THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE-TREE=

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

Come, let us plant the apple-tree,
Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;
Wide let its hollow bed be made;
There gently lay the roots, and there
Sift the dark mold with kindly care,
And press it o'er them tenderly;
As 'round the sleeping infant's feet
We softly fold the cradle-sheet,
So plant we the apple-tree.

What plant we in this apple-tree?
Buds, which the breath of summer days
Shall lengthen into leafy sprays;
Boughs, where the thrush, with crimson breast,
Shall hunt and sing, and hide her nest;
We plant upon the sunny lea
A shadow for the noontide hour,
A shelter from the summer shower,
When we plant the apple-tree.

What plant we in this apple-tree?
Sweets for a hundred flowery springs
To load the May-wind's restless wings,
When, from the orchard-row, he pours
Its fragrance through our open doors;
A world of blossoms for the bee,
Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,
For the glad infant sprigs of bloom,
We plant with the apple-tree.

What plant we in this apple-tree?
Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,
And redden in the August noon,
And drop, when gentle airs come by,
That fan the blue September sky;
While children come, with cries of glee,
And seek them where the fragrant grass
Betrays their bed to those who pass,
At the foot of the apple-tree.

And when, above this apple-tree,
The winter stars are glittering bright,
And winds go howling through the night,
Girls whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth
Shall peel