among the flowers to save a few steps in the blaze of the scorching sun.

And there is another kind of school in summer, where there is no worry over preparing lessons, and where there is neither heat nor swelter. These are the camps. In camp there are coins and there are critics — as is the case in life as a whole. There, nature is kept company at first hand, and modern civilization is turned to profit. And there is a delight in learning there; it comes without any feeling of fatigue, for the camp lives what it learns.

At sunset a day ends and tomorrow becomes an embryo. Little of the sun is left, and only a hand's breadth is left of summer; when we come to its end, the earth turns back to lay the foundation of a new summer. So who among us — and the earth follows us in this — can do without summer: the season of harvest, of plenty, and of ripening!!?...

tree? Who among you has laid a single stone... Do not wonder, Miss, at our call to build the cemetery... We chose to build it in the middle of the village, near the church, because we fear a day — perhaps a near one — when no young man will be left to carry...

The peasant did not finish his words, for tears choked him, and he vanished from before me... with the woman...

And I remained where I stood, stunned before a painful reality. Yes! The people of my village are building a public cemetery, and it will stand witness against our generation, which took and did not give, which loved itself and listened

to no voice but the voice of itself!.. This cemetery will hold the bones of those good and upright souls who wore out their lives in the ser-vice of the land — and their lives went for nothing, and no one ever guided them to anything better...