Where the birds are singing and the flowers are springing,
And life is happy and free.
While the wheat grows in the field, love,
And the fuel is cut from the grove,
Neither want nor cold shall the night dreams haunt;
Only plenty and comfort and love.
Chorus.—Come to the grange with me, love, etc.
We'll build our home by the hill, love,
Whence the spring to the brooklet flows;
On the gentle slope where the lambkins play
In the scent of the sweet wild rose.
Chorus—
In the labors, joys, and cares of the grange, love,
In the shelter and shade of the grove,
Life's duties we'll meet in companionship sweet,
And there rest from our labors in love.
Chorus—
—John Minto.
A STROLL TO ELMWOOD.
Turning toward the setting sun, we left Harvard Square; and strolling along a mile of paved streets and modern palaces, reached Elmwood, the birthplace and home of James Russell Lowell, the poet. A promenade along the outer, edge of the enclosure, which is marked by a fence half hidden
