The Cat-tail Arrow

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      BY CLARA DOTY BATES

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      Well indeed he loved to whittle,

      Shaped it like the half of O—

      How he could I scarcely know,

      For his fingers were so little.

      As he whittled came a sigh:

      "If I only had an arrow;

      Something light enough to fly

      To the tree-tops or the sky!

      Then I'd have such fun tomorrow."

      Then he thought of all the slim

      Things that grow—the hazel bushes,

      Willow branches, poplars trim—

      And yet nothing suited him

      Till he chanced to think of rushes.

      He knew well a quiet pool

      Where he always paused a minute

      On his way to district school,

      Just to see the waters cool

      And his own bright face within it.

      There the cat-tails thickly grew,

      With their heads so brown and furry;

      They were straight and slender too,

      Plenty strong enough he knew,

      And he sought them in a