Material: Six sheets of tinted paper 4 in. x 11 in.; a quarter of a yard of ribbon; paste and scissors.

Fold each of the six sheets of paper, putting the short edges together, and creasing in the middle.

Tie the sheets together where creased.

Cut the months out of any calendar, and, beginning with January, paste each month in order on a separate sheet.

Write the following selections under the months:

January

Always a night from old to new!

Night and the healing balm of sleep! Each morn is New Year's morn come true,

Morn of a festival to keep.

H. H. Jackson.

February

George Washington

First in War, First in Peace, And First in the Hearts of His Countrymen.

March

The sun is bright - the air is clear, The darting swallows soar and sing,

And from the stately elms I hear The bluebird prophesying Spring.

H. W. Longfellow.

April

A gush of bird song, a patter of dew, A cloud and a rainbow warning,

Sudden sunshine and perfect blue - An April day in the morning.

Harriet Spofford.

May

The voice of one who goes before to make The paths of June more beautiful, is thine, Sweet May! Without an envy of her crown And bridal; patient stringing emeralds And shining rubies for the brows of birch And maple.

H. H. Jackson.

June

And what is so rare as a day in June?

Then if ever come perfect days, Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,

And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look or whether we listen We hear life murmur, or see it glisten.

James R. Lowell.

July

The shimmering heat, A tropic tide with ebb and flow, Bathes all the fields of wheat until they glow Like flashing seas of green.

Selected.

August

And when the silver habit of the clouds Comes down upon the autumn sun, and with A sober gladness the old year takes up His bright inheritance of golden fruits, A pomp and pageant fills the splendid scene.

H. W. Longfellow.

September

The goldenrod is yellow,

The corn is turning brown; The trees in apple orchards

With fruit are bending down. The gentian's bluest fringes

Are curling in the sun; In dusty pods the milkweed

Its hidden silk has spun.

Selected.

October

They toss the new hay in the meadow, They gather the elder blooms white,

They find where the dusky grapes purple In the soft, tinted October light.

M. H. Krout.

November

The air is full of whirling leaves, brown and yellow and red.

The show is over.

The winds, like noisy carpenters, are taking down the scenery.

Miracle Plays of 1870.

December

Within the hall are song and laughter, The cheeks of Christmas grow red and jolly,

And sprouting is every corbel and rafter With the lightsome green of ivy and holly.

James R. Lowell.