Motherhood is priced Of God, at price no man may dare To lessen or misunderstand.

The wild mustard in Southern California is like that spoken of in the New Testament. . . . Its gold is as distinct a value to the eye as the nugget gold is in the pocket.

Now and then one sees a face which has kept its smile pure and undefiled. Such a smile transfigures; such a smile, if the artful but know it, is the greatest weapon a face can have.

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.

O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind.

For April sobs while these are so glad April weeps while these are so gay,- Weeps like a tired child who had, Playing with flowers, lost its way.

Motherhood is priced Of God, at price no man may dare To lessen or misunderstand.