s and strangers with
a delicious repast of cake and cream after the exercises were over.
The dining hall was decorated with evergreens, flags and wild flowers.
On each table was a delicious cake, graced with the American flag, and
patriotic emblems were upon the napkins. With all her labor she found
time to contribute her offering and wrote Lines upon the Racket, as
she called it, and when the guests were all seated the verses were
read by one of the teachers:

"LINES UPON THE RACKET"

High up in the snow-capped Sierras,
Not far from Tahoe's beautiful sheet,
Nestling amid the firs and pines,
Is a beautiful summer retreat.

There is where tired mortals go
To rest their brains and weary bones,
Forgetting about the busy world,
Contented to be perfect drones.

Enjoying the beautiful sunshiny days,
And breathing the purest of mountain air;
For the time caring for naught
And saying with the poet, Begone, dull care.

But as mortals cannot live on sunshine and air,
In that beautiful canon near the foaming stream,
Stands the famous Deer Park Inn,
Midst forest trees forever green.

There the most epicurean can find
Food the envy of a king;
Nowhere such trout in all the world
And cooked as nice as anything.

Dear host and hostess, may they live long;
Health and happiness may they never lack;
And when they retire from their rural home,
May they carry with them a well-filled "sack."

For none so watchful could be on earth,
To please and satisfy each guest,
As they have proved to be to all;
Their fame will extend from East to West.

There's another one must not be forgotten,
The life of the camp, full of laughter and song;
Kind words and smiles for every one,
Happy may be her life and long,
For Mrs. Blake-Alverson and her song.

The dear Log Cabin on the hill,
With its huge fireplace and cheery fire,
Where met each eve both old and young,
Mother and daughter, son and sire,

To hear the piano's tuneful notes
And raise their voices loud in song;
To "trip the light fantastic toe"
And strive the pleasures to prolong.

Where could you find such beautiful girls,
Such as the poet always sings,
Gentle and kind, courteous and mild,
We pronounce t