• TABLE OF CONTENTS
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 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Stories and poems and pictures...
 Back Cover






Group Title: Our boys and girls at home : : stories and poems and pictures for young readers ; beautifully illlustrated.
Title: Our boys and girls at home
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00083800/00001
 Material Information
Title: Our boys and girls at home stories and poems and pictures for young readers ; beautifully illlustrated
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 26 cm.
Language: English
Creator: W.B. Conkey Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: W.B. Conkey Co.
Place of Publication: London
New York
Chicago
Publication Date: c1895
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1895   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1895   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1895
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
 Notes
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00083800
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002224400
notis - ALG4664
oclc - 33346243

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Stories and poems and pictures for young readers
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
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    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
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Our BoUS and 6irl FatH on106.


"Three Little Maids from School,"


STORIESS AND1HOEMS AND4 PICTURES
FOR YOUNQ READERS.
BEJA UTIFULLY ILLUSTRATISD.
Copyright, 1S)5, by W. B. (ONKEY COMPANY.
LONDON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO.
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY, PUBLISHERS.


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9ogs and Snowszoes.

." WAY in the Northland, where
the summer lasts only two
-- .. or three months, and where, as soon
-- as it is gone, the snow lies thick
on the ground, and the wintry
Sbhblasts howl through the bare and
....._ -- lonely forests, are the posts of the
--_ fur traders. Here, far from their
.. ... friends, they pass the long and
'- ; dreary months, buying of the
[ 2_ -_- --s '. "_=,- --A-- Indians the skins of the wild ani-
mals they have killed, and selling
ESQUIMAUX, them in exchange for powder and
shot, blankets, tea and many other such things.
These posts often lie hundreds of miles apart, and if anybody wishes to
visit one in the winter, the only way will be by dog-sledge.
First the sledge must be made. A
board about ten feet long and sixteen
inches wide is found, and having had
it steamed to make the wood soft, one
end is bent up as a sort of dash-board.
Then the board in its new shape has
heavy leather fastened around its edges :
and across its front, till it looks like a
great slipper.
The inside is now lined with fur
robes, and the passenger gets in. He
sits down in what represents the slip-
per's heel, and stretching his legs down
into the toe, wraps his thick robes all
about him, and away he goes over _
the snow.
But stop! He does not go till he
gets his dogs, and that is often a hard /
piece of work. As soon as it is known T9
that a traveler wishes dogs, there is no FOR A RI
ARqTIC GIRL DRESSED FOR A RIDE,








end to the number that are brought him to select from;- dogs with one
eye or one ear gone, for their masters often beat them cruelly; dogs old
and young, every kind, in short, but good ones, and these the owners
keep back until they are sure they cannot sell the poor ones. But at last
the dogs are selected and a guide is engaged.
Besides the sledge upon which he rides the traveler must have another
to carry his own and the dogs' food, the kettles and pots with which his
food is to be cooked, and so on. This is made less carefully, as you will see









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GREENLAND ESQUIMAUX CHILDREN,
by the picture on the opposite page. But, at last, when all is ready four dogs
are harnessed to each sledge, the guide puts on his snow-shoes, the traveler
takes his 'seat, cracks his long whip, the dogs give a howl and a spring,
and away they go over the snow and are soon out of sight.
At mid-day a short halt is made for dinner; the snow is scraped away,
a fire is made, and a kettle hung over it to boil for tea, and the meal is
eaten. Meanwhile the poor dogs look on hungrily while their masters dine.
But the short rest is soon over, the whips crack again, and on they go.








S By and by, the lengthening shadows tell that night is coming on. A
place for a camp is chosen, the dogs are taken out of the harness and
stretch themselves, rolling about in the snow, while the guide, taking off
the snow-shoes on which he has run all day, sets busily at work to clear away
a large circular space. When this is done a fire is lighted in its center, and
supper is cooked. After this is eaten the dogs' turn comes. They are all
alert, for fifty miles of running makes them all hungry enough. Two
pounds of dried raw fish are given to each, which is swallowed almost at a
gulp. Then, curling up in a ball, they go to sleep in the snow till morning.
Meanwhile, the traveler sits close to the blazing fire, for the cold is such as we
who live in temperate climes know nothing of, and, his hard day's work over,
smokes his pipe, and at last rolls himself in his robes and blankets, and, with

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_-1- ~ ... .--- _

AN ARCTIC GIRL'S CARRIAGE

his feet to the blaze, sleeps until at the first break of day his guide rouses
him to resume his march.
The dogs have very strange names. The favorite ones are Whisky,
Brandy, Coffee and Chocolate; and if you should come upon a hundred
dogs the chances are that eighty of them would have one of these four names.
Why it is I do not know, unless their masters name them after what they like
best. Theirs is a hard life. Their Indian owners treat them very cruelly.
If a dog flinch or is lazy at his work, down comes the lash of the whip upon
him, often cutting out a piece of flesh, or a brutal kick brings him back to
duty. And when his day's work is done there is no petting for the sledge
dog. His master throws him a piece of meat, and for the rest he must fare
the best he can. Often he does not dare to come near the fire for fear of a
blow.
But sometimes the dog has his revenge. Woe to the unlucky man who
takes his seat if he does not know how to drive. His steeds find it out in
no time, and pay no attention to his cries of Whoa." Away they go at








full speed. Now on some rabbit's trail, now out of mere wantonness, until
at last there is a grand upset and all are brought to a standstill.
The guides who lead the travelers over these long journeys are almost
always Indians. They take great pride in the appearance of their dog
teams. Bright ribbons are tied to their harness, and little bells tinkle as
they move along. The sledge, too, is gaily colored with different shades
of paint, so as to produce quite a bright effect. In his own dress the Indian
takes great satisfaction. One traveler describes his guide in this way:
He had yellow paint on his face, on his feet moccasins, on his legs
leggings. On his body he wore a cotton shirt, and across the pit of his
stomach, drawn straight and tight, a brass watch-chain. Over all this he
strapped a great green blanket.
This man could travel on his snow-shoes from forty to sixty miles a day,
running beside the sledge.
What fun I hear some one say, it must be to travel in this way.
Well, so it is for a short time. But after you have ridden a mile or so,
you begin to feel through the sledge bottom every hummock you pass
over, until at last you think you must be getting black and blue. Then
you cannot move about without letting in the cold air, and if your sledge
upsets you are wedged in so tight that you can not help yourself, but
must be set upright by your guide.
Altogether, I am very well satisfied with horses and wagons, and do
not care to change.


































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NORDENSKJOLD, THE ARCTIC
EXPLORER.
T HE battle-field is not the only place
Where courage is needed. Some men
are brave for a time, stirred by some sudden
and overmastering impulse; and others are
born with heroic blood in their veins and
are heroic all their lives. Such men as
these make the La Salles, the Marquettes
and the Joliets of earlier days, and the
Cooks, the Franklins, the Stanleys the
Greelys and the Nordenskjblds of modern
times. They leave home and friends and
all the comforts of civilized life, and at the
constant risk of their own lives pursue their
way with a dauntless courage the world may
well admire. On the next page is a fine
portrait of Nordenskjold, the celebrated
Arctic explorer. In that scene of awful
lonely grandeur he stands a magnificent
type of the impassioned student of science
who would feign wrest from nature all her
hidden and jealously guarded secrets. This
illustrious adventurer gave great attention
to the causes of the Aurora Borealis. As to
the question that has been mooted of late
concerning the possibility of forming arti-
ficial Auroras by means of electricity, Nor-
denskjold has little to say, but he holds very
strongly to the theory that there is a per-
manent luminous corona encircling the
magnetic pole. "This," he says "though
it can not be seen when the Auroras are
visible, is yet the cause of all Auroral dis-
plays."

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CASE.
RO]BER J. BURDETTE.
T I-IE little tot'ring baby feet,
With faltering steps and slow,
With pattering echoes soft and sweet
Into my heart they go;
They also go, in grimy plays,
In muddy pools and dusty ways.
Then through the house in trackful maize,
They wander to and fro.
The baby hands that clasp my neck
With touches dear to me,
Are the same hands that smash and wreck
The inkstand foul to see;
They pound the mirror with a cane,
They rend the manuscript in twain,
Widespread destruction they ordain
In wasteful jubilee.
The dreamy, murm'ring baby voice
That coos its little tune,


That makes my listening heart rejoice
Like birds in leafy June,
Can wake at midnight dark and still.
And all the air with howling fill,
That splits the ear with echoes shrill
Like cornets out of tune.

THE WONDERFUL WORDS OF CHRIST.
THOMAS W. HIANDiORiD.
W HATEVER may be said of the won-
derful character of the works wrought
by Jesus Christ may be said with deeper
emphasis of thewords He spoke. Momentous
as were the deeds of Christ they were not
nearly as momentous as were his words. If
we have ever imagined that Christ's claim to
a divine mission rested mainly on the mira-
cles, we are much mistaken. The miracles,
or signs, as witnesses to Christ, were limited
and temporary. The testimony of His words
is universal and permanent. If the works
He wrought proved Him to be the great
power of God, much more did the words He
uttered prove Him to be the wisdom of God.
Thoughtful men who listened to Him were
astonished at the whole character of his
teachings, its length, its breadth, its depth,
its height. Its simplicity charmed them; its
authority held them in awe; and even the
foes of Jesus were compelled to confess that
"never man spake like this man." The
authority of Christ does not -est nearly as
much on His works as on His words. Indeed,
if Jesus had never wrought one of those
superusual deeds, that flashed His renown
like a flame of fire through the length and
breadth of Palestine; if He had healed no
sick, cleansed no lepers, stilled no tempest,
fed no hungry multitudes; still with these
words of His echoing in our ears, we should
be compelled to ask the old question,
"From whence hath this man this wisdom ?"
There are many elements of wonder in the
words of Jesus. We should remember that
Ie was reared in an obscure northern vil-
lage, away from the center of culture and
the opportunities of education. There was
no Gamaliel in Nazareth, at whose feet He
might sit and study the weighty matters of
the law. Jerusalem was the home of culture
and scholarship. The temple courts were
the colleges of Palestine. Zion's Hill was
the only university of the Holy Land.
Nevertheless, Jesus comes from the rude
hills of Galilee, and facing the culture of
Jerusalem, the learning of priests and do.-









tors and scribes, speaks words that have
the double effect of charming the common
people and of astounding the learned and
erudite. Very learned men do not often
make good preachers, but there was a preacher
who talked so simply, so tenderly, that plain
people and even little children could under-
stand him, and yet, withal, dealt with such
stupendous questions in these quiet, plain
words that the learned doctor and the cul-
tured scribe, all were astounded. Simple
direct, intelligible, tender; the words of
Jesus are the best known words in all the
world. The world of common men has a
place in its memory here and there for a few
sentences from other great teachers. Here
a sentence from Plato, there one from Soc-
rates, and another from Epictetus-philos-
opher and slave; but the world of common
men has a schekinah in its memory for all
the words of Jesus, and if every Bible
was burned to-morrow, if every printed word
spoken by Jesus was consumed in fire, it
would make no difference, for these words
are graven so deeply in the hearts and memor-
ies of men that they can never more be lost.
Wonderful indeed, for they contain in the
briefest compass a complete morality. The
words of Jesus cover all the ground and are
incapable of improvement. No man, even
among skeptics and scoffers, arises to amend
the utterances of Jesus. Think of their
power on the minds and hearts of men.
What have they not wrought in these last
twenty centuries? The sermon on the mount
was mightier than all miracles, for it became
the eternal energy of truth. That one word
to Martha, "I am the resurrection and the
life," was mightier than a thousand resurrec-
tions of men. Coming ages will reveal in
grander proport" ns the majestic force of
these divine u.-, 1. When the words of
Christ become the law of all men's lives,
then the New Jerusalem will descend from
G:od out of heaven, and the promise will be
fulfilled: "Behold I make all things new."

A CHAIN OF THANKSGIVING RHYMES.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
L ET never day nor night unhallowed pass,
But still remember what the Lord hath done.
ROBERT BURNS.
Some hae meat that canna eat,
And some na meat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thankit.


PRANCES QUARLFS.
In having all things, and not Thee, what have 7?
Not having Thee, what have my labors got?
Let me enjoy but Thee, what further crave I?
And having Thee alone, what have I not?
H. M. E. KIMBALL.
This is the feast-time of the year,
When Plenty pours her cup of cheer,
And even humble boards may spare
To poorer poor a kindly share.
While bursting barns and granaries know
A richer, fuller overflow,
And they who dwell in golden ease
Bless without toil, yet toil to please.
ELLEN ELIZABETH UPPER.
For all that God in mercy sends,
For health and children, home and friends:
For comfort in the time of need,
For every kindly word and deed:
For happy thoughts and holy talk,
For guidance in our daily walk-
For everything give thanks!
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
Once more the liberal year laughs out
O'er richer stores than gems or gold;
Once more with harvest-song and shout
Is Nature's bloodless triumph told.
Our common mother rests and sings,
Like Ruth, among her garnered sheaves;
Her lap is full of goodly things,
Her brow is bright with autumn leaves.
O favors every year made new I
O gifts with rain and sunshine sent!
The bounty overruns our due,
The fulness shames our discontent.


HARVESTING AMONG THE ROCKS.
SINCE the wonderful invention of the
reaper, which gathers in the golden grain
so quickly and so cleanly, the fun and merri-
ment and romance that was once so large a
part of the happy harvesting days have
almost entirely passed away. The bringing
in of the last load from the harvest-field,
was once a theme for poets, but now it is a
most prosaic affair. Yet here and there
there are spots where the corn will grow,
where no reaping machine can find its way.
Among the rocks and hills, in cosy nooks
and winding glens, the corn waves in golden
beauty, and must be harvested by human
hands. On the next page the reapers are
seen at their merry, pleasant tasks, and soon
the gleaners will follow to gather what the
reapers have left behind.
























































A GERMAN LOVE STORY.

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Sheltered from the fury of the north wind by
long ridges of tall, dark pines, the dwellers
in this peaceful vale pass through the severest
winter weather with comparative comfort.
In the summer time the valley is a perfect
garden of flowers, filling the whole region
with perfume and '"-.- iti. A noisy stream
of water-too narrow to be called a river, and
too broad to be called a brook-babbles over
stones and sand, emptying itself at last into
a small lake, on whose banks rises the pleas-
ant little town of Blumenthal.
They were a quiet, industrious people who
inhabited this charming little city of the
valley of blossoms. Their occupations were
entirely -i if. l '1.l. .,_.1 their modes of life
extremely simple. The principal buildings
of the place were an old-fashioned castle that
reared its ancient towers on the outskirts of
the city, and the unassuming Lutheran
church, whose tall white spire stood out in
bold relief against the background of the
somber pines. Pastor Danhauser-who for
forty years had ministered to the wants of
the little flock at Blumenthal-was sitting by
his study fire pondering over the flight of
years, thinking of the children who had be-
come men and women, and of the men and
women who had become aged, since first he
came to live amongst them. As he looked
out of his study window and saw all the land
white-robed with c'h iI, ,- snow, he could
not help thinking of many he had known and
loved who now lay at rest in their peaceful
graves in "God's acre" on the hill. If his
thoughts were tinged with sadness, they were
accompanied with many grateful memories,
that always fall to the lot of the man who
has spent his days in useful toil for his fellow
men.
"A merry ( Ib ;-tin i. to you, dear pastor,"
said a cheerful voice, breaking in upon the
minister's serious meditation; and there at
the doorway stood the only child of Herman
Schwan, one of the pastor's oldest friends,
bearing in her right hand a 1.- 1- bouquet
of flowers, and in her left, the attest goose
of all her father's flock. "We give you good
Christmas, and many more to come," said
the maiden, with a low courtesy and a blush,
as she offered the C'ili-In i: "Vergissmein-
nicht to Pastor Danhauser.
"Come in, Frida, child, come in," said
the venerable pastor, as he took her head be-
tween his hands and kissed her brow tenderly.
" Peace be with you, Frida, as your name
denotes, heaven's peace, ever and always."
C2


Just then the bells of Blumenthal broke
out in a merry chime, for it was the day be-
fore C'i Li;:lt u, ; and of all good times in the
year, none were so merry as Christmas eve at
Blumenthal. For many long years the Bur-
.:.,.i-~h.-H. Herr Hofheimer, had followed the
...... i ...l German custom of throwing open
the castle on C('I i-t v.,-. eve to all comers. A
monster Cl' i:t!, tree was provided with
presents for the children, and the young peo-
ple had cakes and spiced wine, after which
Christmas carols were sung; then the Burgo-
meister made a short speech, followed by
Pastor Danhauser; after which there was
singing and dancing till the castle bell struck
twelve, and then merry crowds would wander
homeward over the crisp snow, under the
light of happy Christmas stars.
Good morning pastor," said Frida, as the
music of the bells rang in her ears., and in
her heart, too, for that matter; "we shall
see you at the castle to-night ? "
"Oh, certainly, Frida," said the pastor
with a smile that was not without its sadness.
"I know you would miss your pastor; it
would hardly be Christmas eve without him,
would it, Frida ?"
No indeed," said Frida, enthusiastically,
for she loved her pastor for his gentleness as
much as she reverenced him for his sacred
calling.
"But Frida," said the old man, smiling,
" whom would you miss the most, your old
pastor or Ludwig Helgenstein ? Ah! Friday,
your eyes tell the story. Well, child, I do not
chide you; Ludwig has a brave, true heart
and is worthy of any woman's love. But
there is a shadow falling on his path. But
you will meet him at the castle tonight.
Speak kindly to him. Good morning, Frida."
"Speak kindly to him! A shadow falling
on his path!" Frida repeated these words
slowly and sadly as she left the pastor's house,
and in that moment all the beauty faded
from the landscape and all the music died
out of the bells. For Frida. loved Ludwig
with a love much deeper than she knew, with
a love that only needed a shadow to cross his
path to make her heart sad indeed.
The shadow that fell across the path of
Ludwig Helgenstein might change to bright-
ness in the course of years, or it might darken
all his sky. He had long loved Frida Schwan
with a silent but absorbing passion. There
had been no formal declaration of love be-
tween them, but by those mute :L u; that are
more eloquent than all words they knew they








were all the world to each other. And now
they must part. Part for years, and indeed,
perhaps forever. The Helgensteins were a
large family. August Helgenstein, the father
of our Ludwig, had two brothers, Carl and
Max, both younger than himself, and seeing
but little opportunity of improving their po-
sition in Blumenthal they had resolved to
put their money together and go out to
America. Tl had heard of the fruitful
lands of the AWujt, and after careful thought
they had resolved to venture forth and try
their fortunes in the New World. The two
sisters, Dorothea and Kathrina, who, though
scarcely born for rough adventure, were in-
tent on going wherever their brothers went.
Ludwig and his cousin Fritz.said that if their
aunts were brave enough to go they ought
not to hold back. And indeed neither of the
boys were lacking in courage, but the ties
that bound them both to the little city of the
vale were stronger than iron bands.
It was a merry night at the Castle of Blu-
menthal that ('hii -. i ,. eve of 1874. Just
before sunset the church bells began to chime,
and the deep tone of the bell in the castle
keep might be heard for miles calling all
good people to make merry. In a little while
the- road was dotted here and there with
happy groups wending their way to accept
the good Burgomeister's Christmas cheer.
Just before seven o'clock the children had
gathered in the hall, and with Pastor Dan-
hauser at their head they waited the coming
of the Burgomeistor. At last good Herr Hof-
heimer entered with a smile of genial welcome,
and the children at once broke forth in the
old Christmas carol:
God rest you, merry gentlemen,
LT. ,,iihI, *.*,i dismay;
1: in...,in i 'I1 i our Savior,
Was born on Christmas day;
To save us all from Satan's power,
When we were gone astray.
Now to the Lord sing praises
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace;
This holy tide of Christmas
All other doth efface.
The evening passed speedily away. The
little children were delighted with their gifts
from the Christmas tree, the older people
talked of days that were gone. The young
people danced to their heart's content, and
then in shadowy corners of the great hall
they chatted with each other in language low


and sweet. Talked with look and accent as
well as voice, till very simple words over-
flowed with most loving meanings.
"It is time to part," said Pastor Danhauser,
as the fingers of the great hall clock pointed to
twelve. Frida Schwan will sing 'Auf Wieder-
sehen' for us, and then we will wish the Burgo-
meister a merry Christmas and good night."
That plaintive but hopeful song, "'Auf
Wiedersehen," is as dear to the German heart
as "Auld Lang Syne" is to the Scotch. If
the latter is a song of exultation on the re-
union of old companions, the former lifts
high the torch of hope in anticipation of a
happy meeting in days to come.
Friday Schwan was not a great i;I but
she sang very sveetly-Ludwig IIelgenstein
thought she sang divine, i.1 I. eightt she
sang "Auf Wiedersehen .I i -!- ..-t, tremu-
lous pauses that were most pathetic. So pa-
thetic that Ludwig felt as if mn- nea :' would
break, though, of course, he knew no man's
heart ever did break for love. i lli he could
not help asking himself sad questions. Should
he ever hear Frida sing that scnSg again ?
Was it a dirge of perpetual parting or a ban-
ner of hope prophetic of some distant happy
day ? Poor Ludwig was very sad. He had
never wandered very far from the l !.i'1 valley
that gave him birth, and going to America
seemed like going to the end of the world,
nay, out of the world, since it was to separate
him so widely from the girl lie had loved so
tenderly and so long. If there had been no
Friday in the case it would have tried Ludwig
sorely to leave Blumenthal with all its happy
associations, but to leave Frida, too It took
all the sunlight out of his sky and left only
dull gray clouds.
As the last stroke of twelve sounded from the
castle clock the merry groups departed home.
Ludwig and Frida came last of all, walking
sadly and .1~ 1l,- along. Friday, with a
woman's tender instinct, was the first to speak.
Ludwig," she said, laying her hand gently
on his arm, you are in trouble. The pastor
told me this morning there was a shadow on
your path. Will you not tell me what it is ?
Have I not a right to know ?"
"Oh! Friday! Friday said Ludwig; "my
heart is very sore, but give me your hand to
hold, and then I will tell you all."
With Frida's hand nestling in his, Ludwig
told her all the story. Told her how he had
loved her from a child, and now that he was
growing up to know how worthy she was of
being loved, he was to be taken away from










her-he knew not how far, he knew not for
how long. He talked on, and Frida made
no sign save a gentle pressure of the hand,
which Ludwig held as if it were the most
precious thing in life. He explained all the
plans. of the family in their contemplated
exodus to the new world. It would be cow-
ardice to hold back when his seniors were
willing to face the difficulties, but it was
breaking his heart to go. He had seen Pastor
Danhauser, who had spoken many kind
words, he said, and had bidden him hope.
S" Hope for what ?" said Frida.
Oh, for a safe voyage, and good health,
and general prosperity," said Ludwig, with
his face half averted.
"Was that all ?" said Frida. "Look at
me, Ludwig," she added, taking his two
hands in hers. "We are not boy and girl
any longer. This night life is full of mean-
ing for us both. If our dear pastor bade you
hope that I would promise to love you and
wait for you, though the waiting should be
for many years, you have my promise with-
out the-asking. Ludwig, I am yours !"
Ludwig had no words at hand, but he
stooped down to her uplifted face, that shone
in the moonlight as if it had been the face of
an angel, and kissing her gently, said, God
bless you, my Frida, my own !"
During this talk, that was to be a joy for
years to come, they had -II.... .,,.-1 wain-
dered down the 11. far i. home.
They now retraced their steps. Ti,, knew
that this was to be their last oppor-L.it of
saying farewell alone. They reached the old
gate at last, and then Frida, with all the
wisdom and tenderness of love, prepared to
bjd her lover a long farewell. Ludwig do-
clarod that since this walk half the butren
had been taken from his heart. He would
leave her in sorrow, but it was sorrow bright
with .joy and hope.
"Lil. .1;." said Frida at last, "I have
something to say to you. I have no tears to
shed tonight; they will come bye and bye.
But, Ludwig, you are taking my heart with
you. Promise me to believe in God ; IHe
will guide you; and believe in yourself, oh,
Ludwig, always be faithful to yourself; and
believe in me, and all will yet be well."
"Frida, it is hard to say Farewell," said
Ludwig.
But the time has come," and lifting her
face for the parting kiss, "Auf wiedersehen,"
she whispered, and was gone.
(Continued on next page.)


DIMPLE-LAND.
CARRIE W. BRONSON.
IN Dimple-land, in Dimple-land,
The grass is always green !
There May and May go hand in hand,
With not a storm between.
'T is ii .... i i
And 1i ll ,
And dandelions gay;
And trees that dress in pink and white,
And birds that sing all day.
The lucky folk in Dimple-land
Do naught from sun to sun,
Yet every thing that's fine and grand
Grows there for every one.
With little smiles,
And cunning wiles,
They buy whatever they miss;
And naught is there too great or dear
To purchase with a kiss.
Such fun they have in Dimple-land !
It is the drollest place !
Somebody shouts, or waves a hand,
Or makes a funny face;
Then all the folk
Join in the joke,
And jump, and sing, and laugh,
So many merry games they know,
I can not tell you half.
And when at last they just begin
To tire of so munch play,
The Queen of Dimple-land comes in,
And takes them all away;
And shuts their eyes
With lullabies
I think that you'll agree,
No other country ever had
So sweel a queen as she.

SPARE THE BIRDS.
N support of tle recommendation relative
to the preservation of small birds neces
sary to horticulture, the figures of. a careful
observer will show the great losses incurred
by the destruction of only one brood. A
bird's nest contains, on an average, five eggs
or five young birds. Each young bird eats
daily fifty flies or other insects, and this con-
sumption lasts four or five weeks. Thus it will
be found that the number of i,,.. t 1. .- ...
by each brood in these thirt I -, i- ;,'.,.
Each fly eats daily, in !l1.... ., leaves and
buds, a quantity equal to its weight, until it
has attained-its maximum growth. In thirty
days it will have eaten one flower a day-a
flower which would have produced a speci-
men of fruit. Thus in thirty days, each fly
having eaten fruits, the 7,500 flies which a
brood of birds would have destroyed causes
us to lose .'.*,i .i apples, pears, peaches, eta,














11
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.

A GERMAN LOVE STORY.
i ,, ,zi,.1j r I i i '1l [, ,,. i-..
, l -II.\rT 1 i 11.-IN TilL 'i. ]N W .'i[-..

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11:-:'nip:,] to: tL _- 'rt\" 1ht,-. :,it ID n11
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An ocean voyage is often very healthful for
mind as well as body. The sea is very strong
and very merciful, and it swept its refreshing
breezes through his soul and helped to charm
him from his melancholy. Yet he was very
sad betimes. It was moonlight during the
larger part of the voyage, and Ludwig was
glad to be alone. As he stood by the side of
the ship and saw that great highway of light
made by the moonbeams as they danced upon
the receding waters, he was entranced by its
exceeding beauty, yet he could not help re-
belling against the cruel fate that, with every
throb of the vessel's iron pulse, bore him fur-
ther away from Frida.
The stir and bustle of New York won him
from his gloomy moods, and long before the
end of the weary journey Ludwig began to
realize that he had more to live for than any
member of this little company of pioneers.
The Helgenstein family had not gone out
wholly at a peradventure. Certain old friends
of theirs who had lived for many Jcmr it the
southern extremity of the valley ,.! Lll, ii r -
thal,-just within sight of the grand old
Castle of the Wartburg, where Martin Luther
was kept for a time in friendly ,i,-. ';,-
had migrated in the year 18(9 to the north-
western portion of the Territory of Dakota;
and it was very largely through the repre-
sentations of these old neighbors that the
Helgensteins determined to go out West. So
to Dakota they bent their steps. It was mid-
winter when they reached their old friends,
but they were none too soon. They had
scarcely time to look around and map out
their plans for the future when the spring
opened and work began in earnest. The new
modes of life became an enchantment. The
older men of the company felt the sudden
changes, but Ludwig and his cousin Fritz
took kindly to the new life and soon became
enthusiastic Western farmers.
One day shortly after their settlement
Aunt Dorothea called Ludwig aside and gave
him a little parcel which Frida Schwan had
given her on the 1 of their departure,
charging her not to give it to Ludwig till
thcy were fairly settled in their far-away
home. Judge with what anxiety Ludwig
unwrapped the priceless treasure. It con-
tained a little volume of the poems of Hein-
rich Heine. Turning to the ll,-1i. If Ludwig
discovered that it was Pastor Danhauser's
gift to Frida on that eventful Christmas eve.
There was the little blue ribbon with which
it had been tied to the C.'lii tii, tree, and


on the fly-leaf was written-" Frida Schwan,
from her Pastor. Christmas, 1874." Under-
neath this inscription Frida had written with
a firm hand these two words-" Ludwig-
Vergissmeinnicht." That was all-just two
words. But translated by the light of love,
these two words meant more than all the
languages of men could tell. No devotee
ever held her missal more sacred than Lud-
wig did this little volume of Heine's immor-
tal verse. It was his constant companion.
He read it at night by the light of the pine
logs; he took it with him to the woods and
often broke the silence of their majestic
shades by chanting in simple strains the Ger-
man poet's songs of'love. Sometimes Lud-
wig wished he had the gift of the poet that
he might pour forth all that was in his heart
concerning his dear but distant Frida. He
took great comfort in long rambles in the
woodlands all alone. The autumn of 1875
was .. i.,i..I.,11 beautiful, the golden woods
of Dakota put on unusual splendors. The
oldest settlers said they had never seen so
magnificent an Indian summer. The match-
less beauty of these scenes touched the in-
most soul of Ludwig, for if not a poet he
was to a very large extent an intelligent lover
of nature. He had only one wish, and that
was that Frida might be there to share this
autumn glory with him. In one of these
I1,1.., moods, induced by the rare beauty of
a Sabbath morning ramble in the woods,
Ludwig shaped together a simple rhyme, with
Friday for the theme, and the next mail
bore to Blumenthal the following love song,
which one fair maiden thought was the
sweetest poetry ever written:
Friday, my loved one, the summer is ( ,i-.
The first frosts of autumn are white on the illH;
But sweeter than summer, and fairer than autumn,
Are memories of Frida my bosom that fill:
Wherever I wander,
By land or by sea,
., mein ;, i.i;- my heart turns to thee !
The trees of the wildwood may tell of my sighing,
The sweet scented valleys shall echo the strain
They shall whisper to Frida, that living or dying,
In sunshine or storm I am ever the same:
Wherever I wander,
By land or by sea,
Friday, mein liebling, my heart turns to thee!
Oh! when shall I see thee as bright as the morning,
Or fair as the sunset that golden the West?
For dearer is Frida than sunrise or sunset,
The light of my life, and the heaven of its rest:
Wherever I wander,
By land or by sea,
Friday, mein liebling, my heart turns to theel










The years passed on quickly, for the settling
of a new home in a new land leaves little time
for leisure and none for repining. The farm,
which the Helgensteins had called the Dan-
hauser farm, out of respect for their pastor,
had prospered. The whole family had been
blessed with good health. The region was
but sparsely populated, so that these settlers
had not made many new friends,' but then
they were their own little world, and they
were much too busy ever to feel very lone-
some. On the third of each month Ludwig
rode over to Bismarck, the nearest post town,
for mail, and Frida never failed him once.
It was the one bright day of the month that
lighted all the other twenty-nine. The news
from Blumenthal was sometimes pleasant
and sometimes sad. The years were telling
their mingled stories of wedding bells and
funeral chimes. Frida's father was dead,
and she had gone to keep house for Pastor
Danhauser, who was growing old and very
feeble.
One day in October, 1';i, there was a
family council at the Danhauser farm. The
harvest was gathered in, the i .. I. had been
most bountiful, and all had gone well. Fritz
was in a merry mood and said lie had a prop-
osition to make. A number of German farm-
ers had met at Bismarck and had organized
an excursion to the old country. They had
made arrangements with the railway and
steamship companies to take a certain num-
ber at greatly reduced rates. They were to
sail from New York on the 1st of December,
and return about the end of January. Fritz
went on to remark that it was most unfortu-
nate that- they were just one short of the
required number, and as he had always
thought there was a good deal of the martyr
about Ludwig, lie proposed that he should
throw himself into the gap and fill the va-
cant place. Of course, he said, he did not
want Ludwig to go out as an emigration
agent, but if he found .'.i/. in Blunen-
thal whom lie could persuade to come out to
Dakota, well and good. A lI. a good deal
of serious talk and not a little pleasant ban-
ter, which both aunts said they thought was
too bad, the resolution of Fritz was unani-
mously adopted.
Aunt Kathrina's lips trembled as she kissed
Ludwig good night. God bless you, my
boy," she said, and tears fell upon the young
farmer's rough brown hand.
All night long Ludwig tossed and turned,
much too restless to sleep, and all night long


there went crooning through his brain the
brief refrain:
Wherever I wander
By land or by sea,
Friday, mein liebling, my heart turns to theel
(Continued on next page.)

THE HONEST MAN.
SAMUEL SMILES.
T TIE honest man is naturally antagonis-
tic to fraud, the truthful man to lying,
the jil..f;. -1.. n;_ man to oppression, the
pure-minded man to vice and iniquity. They
have to do battle with these conditions, and,
if possible, overcome them. Such men have
in all ages represented the moral force of the
world. Inspired by benevolence and sus-
tained by courage, they have been the main-
stays of all social renovation and progress.
But for their continuous antagonism to evil
conditions, the world were for the most part
given over to the dominion of selfishness and
vice. All the great reformers and i ,, ,i,rs
were antagonistic men-enemies to falsehood
and evil doing. The Apostles themselves
were an organized band of social antagonists,
who contended with pride, selfishness, super-
stition and irreligion. And in our own time,
the lives of such men as ('1 ~i .:- .. and Gran-
ville, "'. Ii -, Father Mathew, and Richard
Cobden, inspired '., singleness of purpose,
have shown what high minded social antago-
nism can effect.
A CANARY AT THE FARM.
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.
FOLKS has been to town: and Sairy
Fetched her home a pet canary,
And of all the blame contrary
iA ,, -,;ngs alive!
I lov. ........ i I love it
When it's free-and plenty of It-
But I kind o' git above it
At a dollar eighty-five!
And it's just as I was sayin'-
Jest the idy, now, o' layin'
Out yer money and a paying'
For a willer cage and bird,
When the niedder larks is wingin'
Round ye, and the woods is ringin'
With the beautifulest singing'
That a mortal ever heard I
Sairy's sot, though;-so I tell her
He's a purty little feller,
With his wings o' creamy yeller,
And his eyes keen as a cat;
And the twitter o' the critter
'Pears to absolutely glitter!
Guess I'll haf to go and git her
A higher priceder cage'n that












I llii l lII


* --1. = ---


-" ---. ='- _- : ; J -. '


A GERMAN LOVE STORY.
THOMAS W. HANDFORD.
CHAPTER III.-WEDDING BELLS.
One, two, three four,
They softly chime,
Fond lovers should not lose their prime,
Say the Bells of Aberdovy.- Welsh Song.
M any changes had come to Blu-
menthal since the Helgensteins
left the quiet valley God's acre on the
hill was becoming crowded.








Five years had wrought sad havoc amongst
the living, and as Pastor Danhauser said
sadly-the graves were filling fast. Friday had
kept the Pastor's house since the summer
her father died, and no daughter could have
been more thoughtful and attentive. Friday
had now no relation in the world, except a
cousin bearing her own name, who had re-
cently come to live in the little village of
Vernhault, about four miles from Blumen-
thal, at the foot of the Harz mountains.
This cousin, a younger and in some respects
a fairer Frida Schwan, was the only daughter
of our Frida's uncle Rudolph, who had died
many years ago. These orphaned cousins
spent much time together, for the visitor
from Vernhault was ever welcome at the pas-
toral home at Blumenthal. They had much
in common. If our Frida thought the world
had but one Ludwig, her cousin thought
Karl 3I..,-i' the rising young lawyer of Vern-
hault, the paragon of men. ,
One day early in November, Pastor Dan-
hauser's young housekeeper was destined to a
good deal of perplexity. Early in the morn-
[ig she received the usual monthly letter
from Ludwig with a bulky enclosure for the
Pastor. Ludwig's letter disturbed her some-
what. It was kind and tender, as all his
letters were, but it was strange, very strange !
Not a word about feeling lonesome and sad,
no wondering when the time should come
when he should see her once again. The
letter was from first to last jubilant. The
crops had been wonderful, Aunt Dorothea
was much better of her rheumatism and Aunt
Kathrina was the dearest, kindest aunt in the
world. All this and more of the kind, but
no hint that his heart was breaking for a
sight of Frida--which statement in some
shape or another had found a place in all his
previous letters, and had made her sad many
a time. And now she was sad because this
pathetic wail was nowhere to be found. IHe
wondered who would walk home with her
from the castle next C('l.I -rin., eve. Would
she be greatly surprised and really pleased ifl
some tine day lie should knock at Pastor
Danhauser's door? Ile wondered whether
she would know him with his big brown
beard ? The letter puzzled, perplexed, al-
most annoyed her. She was half disposed to
turn to the maiden's universal panacea for all
the sorrows of life-a good cry. She knew
it was childish, but then it's a good thing to
be childish sometimes, and Frida would have
indulged in the luxury had it not been for


that other Frida, who came in radiant from
a walk of four miles through the autumn
sunshine, and still more radiant with the
sweet story she had to tell her elder cousin.
The younger Frida--Rudolph's Frida-told
her cousin that she had had quite a long and
serious talk with Karl Meyer. He was tired
of living in lawyer's chambers all alone and
was quite anxious that they should be mar-
ried. The way the charming little story-
teller pleaded her lover's cause and explained
that he must be very lonely and miserable
was quite impressive; it was clear she was
born to be a lawyer's life. Of course she ad-
mitted that Karl was very impetuous in ask-
ing that the wedding should take place before
Christmas. But there is nothing that an ex-
pectant bride will sooner forgive than im-
petuosity in such a cause.
What with Karl Meyer's headlong zeal and
Ludwig's unaccountable strangeness, which,
however, she would not admit was coldness,
our Frida was sorely perplexed.
"Had you pleasant tidings from Lud-
wig ?" she asked as Pastor Danhauser came
in to greet the younger cousin.
"Oh, yes !" he answered, looking a little
sad, which only added to Frida's perplexity.
It was the pastor's custom, whenever he
heard from Li-1 ;. to tell Frida all that was
in the letter that could possibly interest her.
But he had nothing to tell to-clay, and as he
went back into his quiet little study, Frida
heard him murmur with sighs between :
"They are all leaving me, one by one, one
by one !"
It was settled that Karl M.1-y. and the
younger Frida Schwan should be married by
Pastor Danhauser at the Lutheran church of
B t,1 1 'i't Ii,.,. on Tuesday, the I i. i of De-
cember; our Frida consented to act as chief
bridesmaid. There was little time for prepara-
tion, and perhaps it was as well that Frida
was kept busy and had little time for brood-
ing. -.i.- had not lost one jot or tittle of
faith in Ludwig, but she did not understand
that last letter; so she read some of his
earlier letters for comfort, and as for his
poem-by right of which she had crowned
Ludwig her laureate of love-she knew that
perfectly, every word was burned into her
memory and her heart.
The morning of Karl's wedding came at
last. Brightly shone the sun Merrily rang
the bells! All the valley, east and west,
shone with the snowy crystals that flashed in
the clear bright light of the winter morning.








SAll Blumenthal was astir with the interest of
t he, w,-,ll ,1 _'.
At ti.l.- litti.- hostelry on the south bank of
O, : lake, rejoicing in the name of "The
SF.,rester's Rest," a stranger had taken up his
,l brters late the night before. He wore
It.: .eign clothes and had foreign manners.
~, l M.reover, he was full of questions about
-n. Iny people, some of whom were dead and
..!le had gone to distant lands. He had a
'I e! brown beard, and his hands were rough
-i i.l very brown. Full of questions as he had
i' : .n, he had no idea of being questioned.
S'You seem to have been traveling a good
.. i, l," said the landlord, anxious to make
iialself agreeable to his guest.
..i ." said the stranger.
re you much acquainted in this neigh-
r, i-...hood ?" the landlord asked.
S? 'ome," replied the stranger; and then,
S if 1.]. 1. to further heII. ..in. he
-I Ile his host good-night and retired.
The next r ..... ... when the stranger
.ae down to 1. .1:1 : 1,b he heard the bells
S_ lustily, but took little heed till the
: \ *a.inger people of the little city began
X. .sing in their best attire, with bouquets
I .Il wreaths of flowers.
S'You seem to have a gala day here," he

Oh, yes," said the landlord, "it is a
.... ding."
'And |. i. who are the happy pair ?" the
-1, longer asked.
"'Karl Meyer and lFrida Schwan," re-
ul."nded the landlord.
SFrida Schwan said the stranger in
.1 maze.
'Yes," said the landlord, "and if you
'..ild like to see the -.,.. 1.n-, you will be
ii t in time. It will be a lovely sight. The
Ilnrch will be full of tl..... though it is
Sr. winter time. Blumenthal will be worthy
f t its name to-day."
S'See this wedding !" said the stranger to
,liniself; "yes, if the sight blinds me!"
.,I with that he strode out of the inn, and
it' oward tlhe Lutheran church.
'. he church was ilndled crowded, and a
1s ippy lman was Karl Mloyor, as lie stood at
i II altar waiting for his bride. At last the
,Il..ar near the chaucel opened, and Pastor
S1 ahauser led forth the brid. 1.1-. -1 ;- 1.
I.I ..-.-. .i by our Frida, the (! t I ,l.. *i n, ;,
.11.I other maidens of the city. No sooner
1.-,1 our Frida made her appearance than the
i. .-ple near the door were startled by the
B


sound of a voice, ,"il'i:'..ri.l- in great agony,
crying out, "Thank God Thank God!"
Looking round, a tall stranger, travel-stained
and bearded, was seen to hurry out of the
church, and was soon lost to sight. The
wedding ceremony was brought to an end
amid happy congratulations.
That night the bearded stranger sat with
Pastor Danhauser in his .Il,.1-. Friday had
not yet returned from Vernhault, where her
cousin's wedding festivities had been held.
At length, the welcome sound of her voice
was heard, and the pastor went into her little
sitting-room to hear all the news of the
merry-making.
She told him, in her simple way, all that
had passed, sighing now and again in the
narrative, as if there was something she had
no heart to tell.
"Frida, dear," said the venerable man,
"my old eyes deceived me, or you looked
much more beautiful than the bride to-day.
How proud Ludwig would have been if lie
could have seen you !"
"Ah, pastor !" Frida said, "I know not
how it is, but it seems to me as if Ludwig
were further off than ever, and my heart is
very sore."
"Child, I had hoped to see you a bride be-
fore I went to my grave-and perhaps it
may be, even yet who can tell ? It would
please me much if you should take your
marriage benediction from my lips," said the
old man, as he dallied with her wealth of
golden hair, "for I have loved you as my
own child."
"Dear pastor, you are sad to-night," said
Friday. "Let me sing to you. What shall I
sing ?"
"Sing me that sweetest strain-'Auf
Weidersehen'"-he said.
Friday's fingers soon swept the responsive
keys, and the plaintive strain that touches
every German heart, and tells of love that
lasts when all the '"blossoms blue" have
faded, and of love's sweet fellowship after
many cares, fell on the old man's spirit with
hallowed calm. The bearded stranger was in
the pastor's study all the time, unknown to
Friday. His heart beat wildly while she sang,
but his time for revelation had not come yet.
"Will you not sing me Ludwig's song ?"
said the pastor, :1.1- I- a little while; for
though a busy pastor, he was a great lover of
music, and had some skill in composition.
Much of the music sung at the church on
the hill was from his pen; and this song,









which had long been known as "Ludwig's
song," he had set to plaintive harmonies.
Yes, sing me 'Ludwig's song,'" the old
man said.
Once again Frida's fingers sought the
trembling keys; sadly but sweetly she chanted
the first stanza of the song; the music of the
brief refrain was just dying away in silence,
when suddenly Frida was startled by a voice,
half in joy and half in anguish, that came from
a bronzed and bearded stranger, who stood
before her with outstretched arms, and cried:
"Frida! mein liebling!"
One moment more, and Frida was nestling
her troubled head on the stranger's ample
breast. Looking up at last, she cried through
blinding tears of joy:
"Ludwig! mein Ludwig!"-And that
was all. *
Once again the bells of Blumenthal rang
out a merry peal, and on the day before
Christmas, after five years of faith and pati-
ence, Ludwig Ilelgenstein and Frida Schwan
pliglhtd their troth before God's altar. The
good Burgomiester gave away the bride, and
every heart in Blumenthal wished bride and
bridegroom joy and peace.
Early in February of the following year,
the young couple left for their distant Wes-
tern home. Friday found it hard to part
from old friends, but hardest of all to part
from her pastor, guide and friend.
Auf \Widcerschen," said Frida as she
uttered a last farewell.
"Auf Weiderschen, my child," said the
venerable Danhauser; "we shall have a
happy ,, I;i. but not here, not here. Be-
yond the stars that keep such faithful watch
over Blumenthal, we shall meet again. Auf
Weidersehen." *
Five years have passed, Pastor Danhauser
lies 1.- '-'.-I_ in the churchyard on the hill.
'The traveler in Northern Dakota, passing
the Danhauser farm, is attracted by a small
fenced enclosure in which stands a white
marble monument with this inscription:
IN MEMORY OF OUR PASTOR.
A uf Weidersehen.

THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES.
JANE TAYLOR.
A MONK, when his rites sacerdotal were o'er,
In the depth of his cell with his stone-covered
Resigning to thought his chimerical brain, [floor,
Once formed the contrivance we now shall explain;
But whether by magic's or alchemy's powers,
We know not; indeed, 'tis no business of ours.


Perhaps it was only by patience and care,
At last, that he brought his invention to bear;
In youth 'twas projected, but years stole away,
And ere 'twas complete, he was wrinkled and gray;
But success is secure, unless energy fails;
And, at length, he produced the philosopher's scales.
"What were they?" you ask; you shall presently
see;
These scales were not made to weigl: .' ..i nd tea;
O no; for such properties wondrous :'' l i, -,,
That qualities, feelings, and thoughts, they could
weigh;
Together with articles small or immense,
From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense.
Naught was there so bulky, but there it would lay,
And naught so ethereal, but there it would stay,
And naught so reluctant, but in it must go:
All which some examples more clearly will show.
The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire,
Which retained all the wit that had ever been there;
As a weight he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf,
Containing the prayer of the penitent thief;
When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell,
That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell.
One time, he put in Alexander the Great,
With a garment that Dorcas had made, for a weight,
And, though clad in armor from sandals to crown,
The hero rose up, and the garment went down.
A long row of alms-houses, amply endowed
By a well esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud,
Next loaded one scale; while the other was priest
By those mites the poor widow dropt into the chest;
Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce,
And down, down the farthing-worth came with a
bounce.
By further experiments-no matter how-
lHe found that ten chariots weighed less than one
plow;
A sword with gilt trapping rose up in the scale,
Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail;
A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear,
Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized tear.
A lord and a lady went up at full sail.
When a lce chanced to light on the opposite scale;
Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl,
Ten counselor's wigs, full of powder and curl,
All heaped in one balance and swinging from thence,
Weighed less than a few grains of candor and sense;
A first-water diamond, with brilliant begirt,
Than one good potato, just washed from the dirt:
Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suffice,
One pearl to outweigh, 'twas the pearl of great price.
Last of all, the whole world was bowled in at the
grate,
With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight,
When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff,
That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof;
When, balanced in air, it ascended on high,
And sailed ,!. '1 a balloon in the sky;
While the I l the soul in 't so mightily fell,
That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell,













.--r


BEATRICE AMONG THE GOLDENRODS.


/ I


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BEATRICE AMONG THE GOLDENRODS.
7.. WAS on an Autumn morning,
SJ_ When I had crossed the stile,
I met her coming down the lane,
And singing all the while.
She had been early seeking
In the sunny fields at morn,
The stateliest of the goldenrods,
The ripest of the corn.
There were diamond gleams on the dewy grass,
There was light in the sunbeam's birth;
But her own sweet face reflected
The light of heaven and earth.
And on she passed -in. ,1-, tie meadows,
W ith step so ligh,' -_ I I,
With her auburn curls about her brow,
And the dew about her feet.
We both passed by that morning,
And nothing did we say-
But a sunbeam fell upon my heart
And lay there all the day.

SYMBOLISM OF FLOWERS.
IN all ages, and among almost every people,
flowers have been adopted as symbols,
i',l .. lid emblems of human character,
:-il1... -I1 and loyalty. The ancient nations
had their emblematic tl.. -*. .. The special
flower of the Hindoos, for instance, has al-
ways been the marigold. The Chinese dis-
play as their national flower the gorgeous
chr-"'"-' frn m mrn.
I, A .i .i s for ages proudly wore the
water lily. The F1_ It; delight most of
all in the heliotrope, though the papyrus
leaf, used by the ancient F_ .i; ,, in place
of 1..' i. may also be regarded in a high
sense as the symbolic plant of the land of the
Nile.
The Greeks and i.., ... ii were in the habit
of distributing the II ..... .. in their luxurious
gardens among their gods and demigods,
just as in yet remoter times the sweet basil,
and the moon flower, were sacred to Asiatic
deities.
The Romans consecrated to Juno the lily, to
Venus the myrtle and the rose; to Minerva,
the olive and the violet; Diana had the dit-
tany, Ceres the ploppy, Mars the ash, Bacchus
the grape-leaf, Hercules the poplar, and Ju-
piter, naturally, the monarch of trees, the
oak.
So, we may infer that among the Romans,
the lily and the oak were emblems of power;
the myrtle and the rose, of love; the olive
and the violet, of learning; the ash, of war;
and the grape-leaf, of festivity.
C3


Even the days of the week, as we use them
now, are named from deities, who had each
his special flower: The Sun-Sunday-the
sunflower; the Moon-Monday-the daisy;
Tuesday-the god I'ni'. day-the violet;
Wednesday-the god Woden's day-the blue
monkshood; Thursday-the god Thor's day
-the burdock; Friday-the goddess Frea's
day-the orchis; and Saturday-Saturn's
d ,.-f-t.. horse-tail.
\'.1: Lo find that in our time the sacred
days in the calendar of the English Church
have all their flower or plant emblems, the
principal of which are the holly for Christ-
mas, the palm for Palm Sunday, and amar-
anth for All Saints' Day.
Monarchs and nations have often had their
symbolic 1 ..... i The thistle is the emblem
of Scotland and the shamrock of Ireland.
The fleur-de-lis is the badge of the royal
house of France, and the amaranth of that
of Sweden. The rose blooms forever on the
royal-coat-of-arms of England.

DESTINY.
T. ALDRICH.
T HREE roses, wan as moonlight and weighted
J down
Each with a loveliness as with a crown,
Drooped in a florist's window in a town.
The first a lover bought. It lay at rest,
Like flower on flower, that night, on Beauty's breast.
The second rose, as virginal and fair,
Shrunk in the angles of a harlot's hair.
The third, a widow, with new grief made wild,
Shut in the icy palm of her dead child.

VENUS.
T HERE is a lovely star called Venus,
S which shines next door to the earth,
and is just about the same size. Of course
the moon is still closer, but, you know, she
belongs to us, for she is the earth's lady-in-
waiting, while Venus is an important planet.
Venus is called the evening star for eight
months, during which time she shines her
1.i -1I. then turns so pale that we cannot
see her at all. But presently out she comes
as the morning star, shining for eight months
more; then she draws down her veil for about
two months, after which she peeps out
brightly, and we call her the evening star
again. Sometimes she is brighter and some-
times dimmer; she passes her time in travel-
ing round the sun, just as we do, only she
gets round faster because she is nearer.




















T the foot of the Golden Dragon Hill,
Long ages ago, in a snug little house
With a roof of dark-brown, velvety thatch,
There lived an old woodman and his spouse,

One morning, his bill-hook the old man took:
"To the mountain, to cut me a fagot, I'll hie,
While you, 0 Koyo, the linen can wash
In the river which rushes and gurgles by."


Oh, the merry old man to the mountain hied,
Past young rice-fields in the morning sun,
Toward the dark fir-trees on the mountain side,
Standing forth in its silence, every one.

,'rom wild camelias and white plum-trees,
In his twinkling old eyes the spider-webs swung;
And he merrily brushed by the green bamboos,
With his bill-hook over his shoulder hung.


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,,i ..... ... ..- ... ... ... ,.The jewels are lying as sea-shore sands;
Ahd '-/' ,"1 *- With blue snow-g'ates on the mountain-top,
'tU h t i I I











The ogres' castle all proudly stands


S. But II will enter, and will bring to you










S- :- ..' ; ., '. ,The wealth from the ogres' treasure-vaults,
^ '>* *Hung over with pearls, like flowers with dew."
f4

_7, 7. 7. j





















But I fear lest the ogres should do you a harm."
S But the Little Peachling danced gayly away,
With the h is good fosumplteumplngsotheumplngs uhe said one day,
".; "And off to the ogres' castle I'a1 goar

And the whole of their treasure will bring awa.
Thew Aslthickin the ogres' treasure-vaults

Hung' o." wWith blue snow-gates on the mountain-top,

".. ,., ,. ,"Vih aelue snow-uates that are stronger thi n steel;
.-.. ,. But I wifl enter, and wiog bring to you


a ." ---"..: ",, .I.,_ Hung over with pearls, like flowers with dew."
-...- Wih have made you the dumplings," his good mother


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CHRITM- LETES
4.t' f '15~











CHRISTMAS LETTERS.







CHRISTMAS LETTERS.
H ERE'S a scene of wild and glad con-
fusion. This bevy of merry maidens
have been instructed that they may write
home and announce the date of the Christ-
mas vacation. For the next hour the school
room is a scene of the most ungovernable
merriment, and even solemn old Dr. Drys-
dale has almost caught the infection, and if
things go on much farther he will probably
dance a jig on the school-room table. There
are twelve of these happy girls, and one
under the table makes a baker's dozen, and
they are making noise enough for twenty-
five. So be it. It is ('i), it ii ... time; and,
as Charles Dickens said:
"I have always thought of Christmas-
time, when it has come round, as a good
time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time;
the only time I know of, in the long calendar
of the year, when men and women seem by
one consent to open their shut-up hearts
freely, and to think of people below them as
if they really were fellow-passengers to the
grave, and not another race of creatures
bound on other journeys. Andso,
as Tiny Tim said: A merry Christmas to us
all, my dears. God bless us, every one."

BETH AND HER UNCLE JOHN.
STELLA STONE.
LITTLE BETH sat in her .v;i slowly
swaying back and forth. -'1.- made
really a lovely picture. She was seated with
her back to the early sunshine, with her
broad-brim sun hat tossed to the back of
her head. Her pink gingham dress, blue
eyes and yellow curls, which hung almost to
her waist, were in harmony with the sun-
shine, birds and flowers.
Ever and anon Beth would stop and give
an impatient little kick on the ground, which
would renew her momentum, also help to
give vent to her pent-up feelings, which
were greatly l'f.:. t Iijg her usually quiet little
self.
Beth was one of those spoilt little beauties
one reads of, but does not meet at every
turn.
As she sat in her swing under the great
shady apple-tree at the foot of the garden
walk, this bright August i... !in; '_. the fine
roses were all high and in full bloom, throw-
ing out a sweet odor on the still atmosphere;
the dew-drops were sparkling in the sunshine


just like so many large and baby diamonds.
Beth swung on, blind to all these familiar
and at other times, dear surroundings.
Bravo, her big Newfoundland dog, lay
quietly by without his accustomed romp
with his little mistress. Beth and Bravo
were great friends. He could not swing
with her, you know, but when Beth was in
a playful mood, she would only say to him,
Come, Bravo, let us have a race." Bravo
was eager for the fun, and would come to her
with a playful bound. Beth would then
rise in her swing and go away up, out of
his reach, and back, passing him so swiftly
that he could never catch her; but he would
bound, jump and stand on his hind feet,
and evidently had as good a time as Beth.
Brave seemed by instinct to understand
Beth's mood on this occasion; for he never
attempted to disturb her, but lay silently
near her in the shade, apparently trying to
get a little snooze, which feat he would
doubtless have accomplished had it not been
for the interruption of an energetic fly,
that would persist in its i't.. r to tickle his
nose.
Beth only knew that Bravo was there in a
kind of matter-of-course way, as he never
allowed her too far beyond the door-steps
without his guardianship; for to-day her
thoughts were all centered on her big Uncle
John, whom she had known only to tyran-
nize over, and she had not thought of him
only as dear, good Uncle John, whose main
mission in life was to be thoughtful of her
comfort. But Beth's mamma had told her
something at the breakfast table this morn-
ing, which had caused her to view her uncle
John in a new way. She said:
"Well, Beth, what do you think? your
Uncle John has breakfasted and gone onhis
journey long ago, while you were yet in bed.
You missed kissing him good-by. He asked
me to beg your pardon for him, as he had a
treat in store for you. He would bring you
a new auntie back with him-his wife you
know, Beth; he is going to Rockland to
marry."
"Uncle John going to marry ?" queried
Beth. She could eat no more breakfast, but
slipped out into the fresh air down to her
. i_., where she could collect her thoughts,
and think over this great and unpleasant
surprise. Uncle John had lived along, long
time at Beth's home, even so 1..o: ago she
could not remember when he had not been








there. He always knew just how to please
Beth; knew the fruits she relished most.
He would very often take her for a walk,
and in the spring he always knew where to
find the prettiest little spots of green;
knew where the first daisies grew, where
the first violets and buttercups would
first show their lovely faces. When fall
came he knew where the finest nuts grew.
He would always take Beth out hunting.
One time he told Beth to invite several of
her little friends and they would take the
large farm wagon and go out, far away to
gather nuts. Beth was delighted. She very
soon had her invitations sent out. The
little girls were all as well pleased as Beth,
and each one carried a nice little basket of
lunch. They gathered a great many nuts,
more than Beth had ever seen before. When
dinner-time came Uncle John spread the
cloth, which was his newspaper he had
brought with him for company, if the little
girls should be inclined to leave him out.
He need not to have had such a thought,
for the girls made him the center of attrac-
tion, as nothing could be decided upon until
Uncle John had been heard from. The
children had been at work so hard gathering
nuts they were quite ready for dinner, and
then you know this nomadic life was some-
thing new to them. Besides the autumn
air seemed freighted with something that
sharpens our appetites.
This picnic in the autumn woods was a
good thing for Beth to remember, or at least
her memory was very good on the subject,
as she could go into detail and relate every
little incident of the day. She said to her-
self now as she recalled all the nice things
Uncle John had done for her,- He don't
love me now or he would have told me of
this new auntie, and I know he will hardly
let me hold his hand when we go walking.
I don't think I shall love this new auntie.
I feel jnst like she had taken Uncle John
away from me. I will love only papa,
mamma and Bravo, perhaps Uncle John just
a little if I think he deserves it. Why,
Bravo, I have been real naughty to neglect
you. Come, let's have a run up the walk."
Away they went, running and playing.
Beth could not remain in a melancholy
mood if she had studied to nurse her sorrow.
Beth was the first to meet and welcome her
auntie to her home. She was dressed long
before the time for their arrival and almost


counted the moments of their delay. When
she kissed her Uncle John she gave him a
sly little pinch on his ear to punish him
She soon found she had not lost her Uncle
John's love at all, but had gained the love of
a pretty and good auntie.

BE FAITHFUL.
MRS. ELLEN WOOLFOLK.
"HATE'ER thy talents be; or great or small,
Of one thing be thou sure, God giveth all;
Loaned, rather, are they by divine command,
To be returned with interest in His hand.
None may the gift, however small, despise,
Nor envy those more richly blessed, who rise,
Sublime to higher things, nor idly may
As in a napkin fold God's gift away.
But think not, weary, plodding one, thycare
Is for a hard task-master He will share
With thee the glory and the rich reward;
Rest will be sweeter than the way was hard;
Go, labor on, and richer tribute bring
Against the day of fateful reckoning.
Hast talents five, or two, or only one-
Thou still may'st hear the Master, say, "Well
done."

LIFE'S EVENING.
T HE evening of every man's life is com-
ing apace. The day of life will soon
be spent. The sun, though it may be up in
mid heaven, will pass swiftly down the
western sky and disappear. What shall
light up man's path when the sun of life
has gone down? He must travel on to the
next world, but what shall illuminate his
footsteps after the nightfall of his journey?
What question is more important, more
practical, more solemn, for each reader of
these pages to ask himself? That is a long
journey to travel without a friend. Yet
every man must perform it. The time is
not far distant when all men will begin the
journey. There is an evening star in the
natural world. Its radiance is bright, beau-
tiful and cheering to the benighted trav-
eler. But life's evening star is good hope.
Its beauty and :.!ll;.-i.\ are reflected from
the Sun of Righteousness, whose bright rays
light up the evening of life and throw their
radiance quite across the darkness of the
grave into Immanuel's land. It has illumi
nated the footprints of many a traveler to
eternity. It is of priceless value. A thou-
sand worlds can not purchase it, yet it is
offered without money and without price to
him who will thankfully receive it.












III,
S I I I








STE EB E O COTE '.T I
-- ~..j' I l- "I "- I .II






























the pet- of the three dugh r's oIf the household, Elanor, Blanche and
bears of the family, and were much more kindly treated than many children
i: i "" ~. i '.i





are. They were bathed twice a week and their woolly coas are lly I I Icombd.












Fd' alwas wor a 1 ribbon round his neck- Spot had a dainty little bl,
S s ue i w m H y c d m e te l s of


























other poor little pets would be too t. ni, to touch it. tBoys and dogs are
Smuc alie.ys w e I are not very bravo and S .. like Tuk find it b






hvery easy to mak e th-em miserable. and the e er
T;hi _uwelom e tru e uwhom 1 esr cle Turk- ld, .nd th l, Bves of Ihe
Mather dg miseab.,hap E e t ath







z bone ,-s.,, wu_ st d g d .r it ad
m c ali e -t -boys are-- not' ,r --d l











WT t ITfI a glory of winter sunshine
V X" Over his locks of gray,
In the old historic mansion
He sat on his last birthday,

With his books and his pleasant pictures
And his household and his kin,
While a sound as of myriads singing
From far and near stole in.

It came from his own fair city,
From the prairie's boundless plain,
From the Golden Gate of sunset,
And the cedarn woods of Maine.

And his heart grew warm within him,
And his moistening eyes --cw dim,
For he knew that his country's children
Were singing the s.!i-i; of him:

The lays of his life's glad morning,
The psalms of his evening time,
Whose echoes shall float forever
On the winds of every clime.


All their beautiful consolations,
Sent forth like birds of cheer,
Came flocking back to his windows,
And sang in the Poet's ear.

Grateful, but solemn and tender,
The music rose and fell
With a joy akin to sadness
And a greeting like farewell.

With a sense of awe he listened
To the voices sweet and young;
The last of earth and the first of heaven
Seemed in the songs they sung.

And waiting a little longer
For the wonderful change to come,
He heard the Summoning Angel
Who calls God's children home!

And to him, in a holier welcome,
Was the mystical meaning given
Of the words of the blessed Master:
"Of such is the kingdom of Heaven! "
JOHN G. WHITTIER.


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t 2 lesson for Zouie.
NCLE Jack came in one cold morning looking for all the world like a
,i bear, Louie thought, in his big shaggy overcoat. He caught Louie up
and gave her a real bear hug, too.
y" "Hello, Mopsey where's Popsey ?" he asked.
Popsey was Louie's baby-sister, two years old, and her name wasn't
Popsey any more than Louie's was Mopsey. But uncle Jack was all the time
calling folks funny names, Louie thought.
"Her's gone to sleep," said she.
Then Uncle Jack put his hand in his pocket and made a great rustling
with paper for a minute, before he pulled out two sticks of red and white candy
and gave them to Louie.
"Too bad Popsey's asleep," said he.
But I'm afraid Louie was rather glad of it. She took her little rocking-
chair and sat down by the window to eat her candy..
"Aren't you going to save one stick for Gracie? asked mamma. Popsey's
real name was Gracie.
"I guess I wont," Louie said, speaking low. "I don't believe candy's good
for little mites o' bits o' girls. 'Sides, I want it myself."
Just as she swallowed the last bit there was a little call from the bed-room:
"Mamma! "
"Hello," said Uncle Jack, "Popsey's awake! And in a minute out she
came in mamma's arms, rosy and smiling and dimpled.
Then there was another great rustling in Uncle Jack's pocket, and pretty
soon-
"Here's for Popsey! said Uncle Jack.
She took the two sticks of candy in her dimpled hands and looked at them
a second-dear little Popsey. And then she held out the one that was a little
longer than the other to Louie.
"Dis for 'ou," she cooed; "and dis for me."
Poor Louie! the tears rushed into her eyes. She hung her head and blushed.
Somehow she didn't want to look at Uncle Jack or mamma. Can you guess why?
"Dis for 'on," repeated Popsey, cheerfully, pushing the candy into her hand.
"Take it, Louie," said mamma.
And Louie took it. But a little while afterward mamma overheard her
telling Popsey:
"I won't never be such a pig any more, Popsey Baker. And I'm always
going to videe with you, all the time. after this, long's I live."
And ammamma said "Amen." YOUTH's COMPANION.











Jarette'5 Visit to tle bead Letter Offieg.

[Our Little Men and Women.]

PIRS. MAMMA said to Nanette one rainy day: "Nanette,
dress Dolly and we will go to the Dead Letter

Office."
"Why, Mamma, are letters ever deaded?"
Yes, my dear."
So Nanette put on Dolly's waterproof and rub-

bers, and they were soon at the U. S. postoffice.

Nanette saw the clerks open the big bags of letters called "dead,"
because they do not get to the right place. She saw them open the letters

to see who wrote them. She saw them open a bundle of dresses for a

dear little baby; there were the pieces, too, to mend the dresses with. When
mamma saw those pieces, she said:

"~That is the work of some dear grandma; poor baby, to lose it all !"

In some letters were photographs; in others rings and bracelets. There

were little bundles of ribbons, of lace, of gloves, of all sorts of queer things ;

for people send almost everything by mail. They often send small alligators

and queen-bees.

At one table sat a dear old clergyman. He was over eighty years old,
and loved children. He talked to Nanette, and gave her a pretty box, with

her name on the cover. In the -box he put a text, a tiny calendar, some

rubber bands and a big peppermint.

So Nanette had a very pleasant visit to the Dead Letter Office.


AnDY C. PHILIR00OKZ










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TER 'YOUNG COMPOSITOR.







A FUNERAL OF ANTS.
MRS. HUTTON.
H AVING killed a number of soldier-
ants, I returned in half an hour to
the spot where I had left their dead bodies.
I saw a large number of ants surrounding
the dead ones. I determined to watch their
proceedings closely. I followed four or five
that started off from the rest toward a hillock a
short distance off, in which was an ants'nest.
This they entered, and in about five minutes
they reappeared, followed by others. All
fell into rank, walked regularly and slowly
two by two, until they arrived at the spot
where lay the dead body of the soldier-ants.
In a few minutes two of the ants advanced
and took up the dead body of one of their
comrades, then two others, and so on until
all -ere ready to march. First walked two
ants bearing a dead body, then two without
a burden, then two others with another dead
ant, and so on until the line extended to
about forty pairs; and.the procession now
moved slowly onward, followed by an irreg-
ular body of about two hundred ants. Occa-
sionally the two laden ants stopped, and,
laying down the dead ant, it was taken up
by the two walking unburdened behind
them; and thus, by occasionally relieving
each other, they arrived at a sandy spot near
the sea. The body of antsnow commenced
digging with their jaws a number of holes in
the ground, into each of which a dead ant
was laid, where they now labored on until
they had filled up the ants' graves. This
did not quite finish the remarkable circum-
stances attending this funeral of ants. Some
six or seven of the ants had attempted to
run off without performing their share of
the task of digging. These were caught and
brought back, when they were at once
attacked by the body of ants and killed upon
the spot. A single grave was quickly dug,
and they were all dropped into it.


FACE THE WIND I SHOW THE LIGHT
ROBERT COLLYER.
SPEAK thou the truth, let others fence,
And trim their words for pay;
In pleasant sunshine of pretense
Let others bask their day.
Guard thou the fact, though clouds of night
Down on thy watch-tower stoop,
Though thou shouldst see thy heart's delight
Borne from thee by their s~wooq
C4


Face thou the wind: though safer seem
In shelter to abide.
We were not made to sit and dream,
The safe must first be tried.
Show thou the light. If conscience gleam,
Set not thy bushel down,
The smallest spark may send abeam
O'er hamlet, tower and town.
Woe unto him, on safety bent,
Who creeps to age from youth,
Failing to grasp his life's intent
Because he fears the truth.
Be true to every inmost thought,
And as thy thought, thy speech.
What thou hast not by striving bought
Presume not thou to teach.
Then each wild gust the mist shall clear
We now see darkly through,
And justified at last appear
The true, in Him that's true

THE YOUNG COMPOSITOR.
SOME of the most useful men America
has known began the real business
of life in a printing office. The composing
room especially, has been a sort of college
from which many thoughtful young men
have graduated, and have gone forth to do
good work in the world. All the way from
the time of Benjamin Franklin to the present
day, the printing office has been providing
America with most valuable men. Horace
Greeley, the founder of the New York Trib-
une, George W. Uhilds of the Philadelphia
Ledger, Edgar Allan Poe, Benjamin F.
Taylor, and a host of other men, who have
rendered good service to their country and
age belonged in their early days to the pro-
fession of "the art preservative." Mr. W.
D. Howells, one of the foremost literary men
of the country, who was born March 1, 1837,
is said to have mastered the craft of the
compositor before he was twelve years old.
His father was proprietor and editor of a
newspaper called The I .''... ... r. On the
opposite page is a sketch of America's future
novelist working at the case. He was so
young and so small of stature that it was
necessary to turn a big box upside down, on
which he stood to do his work as a composi-
tor. All trades are honorable that provide
honest work for willing hands. But the
craft of the printer has been specially hon-
ored in supplying the ranks of journalism,
and the higher walks of literature, with a
vast number of gifted, patriotic men.









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THEYO NGARIS







THE MORNING OFFERING.
WTT ILL MORRIS was exceedingly fond
V of his cousin Pauline, and well he
might be, for Pauline was one of those gen-
tle, kind, affectionate girls that win love rath-
er than mere admiration. She was rather
skillful as an artist, and during her vacation
spent a good deal of her time with her Uncle
Morris, who was her mamma's only brother.
Pauline and Will got along famously. She
taught him in the most pleasant way a good
deal about colors, and in their rambles by
the riverside explained a thousand things
about light and shade, and hues and tints
and tones. And then she could romp and
play with the merriest. Will said his cous-
in Pauline was the dearest cousin in the
world, and every morning he gathered her a
bouquet of flowers; sometimes they were
June roses, and oftener a handful of wild
flowers, and he would say: "Cousin, this
is affection's offering. I know these flowers
are not properly arranged, but you won't
mind that, will you ?"
And then Pauline would say:
"Thank you, dear. Flowers are often
much more beautiful by not being so care-
fully arranged."
One morning Pauline repeated a stanza of
a poem that she said just exactly expressed
her feeling about flowers as gifts from lov-
ing hands. This was the verse she recited:
"I never threw a flower away,
The gift of one who cared for me
A little flower, a faded flower,
But what I did it mournfully."

,A THANKSGIVING SONG.
MRS. GANGSTER.
TTE bless our God for wondrous wealth,
VV Through all the bright, benignant year;
For shower and rain, for ripened grain,
For gift and guerdon, far and near.
We bless the ceaseless providence
That watched us through the peaceful days,
That led us home, or brought us thence,
And kept us in our various ways.

THE LAME BOY AND THE KNIFE.
*"T DON'T believe one of those boys
I knows what it is to have a pain or an
ache!" sighed a pale little fellow, whose
only practical legs were a pair of wooden
crutches leaning against the window sill
near where he was lying.
It was a warm day, and a party of happy
ewhool-fellows were on their way to the river


for a row. There was Ned Johnson, Will
Fairfax and True Stevens, full of nonsense
and fun were they, so that none of them
noticed the wistful gaze of little Perry
Evans as he followed them with his brown
eyes only, as they went laughing down the
lane.
Besides being lame, Perry was lonely, for
he had no brothers and sisters, and his
mother had to go out to work; so he found
the summer days long and wearisome. For-
tunately he had some little talent for mak-
ing little toys and trifles, which was an oc-
cupation, but often he was not well enough
to work, and to-day he was mourning the
loss of his only tool of importance-an old
knife, which had been so often sharpened
that it had at last snapped in two.
Perhaps this was why his eyes were so
quick to detect something shining in the
road-something that True Stevens had
pulled out of his pocket with his handker-
chief, as he went laughing along in his care-
less fashion, and had left it there to be
crunched by the first cart wheel that passed.
Perry reached for his crutches, and hob-
bled out to where this shining object lay,
and his heart bounded with delight as he
picked up a brand new knife with big and
little blades.
"What a beauty," he said to himself as
he turned it over and over, and forthwith
drew from his pocket a piece of wood, at
which he had been ineffectually hacking.
The new knife cut the pine wood as if it
had been cheese, and in less than no time
Perry had the hulk of a small schooner on
the bench beside him.
The morning had gone before he knew it,
and the bench was full of chips, while a
fleet of little boats stood in trim array on
the window sill by the time Perry remem-
bered that his dinner must be eaten.
He thought he was alone as he uncovered
the plate of cold meat his mother had left
for him, and so would any one else have
thought, had that person looked in the neat
and tidy place which was parlor, bed-room
and kitchen, all in one-but, all the same,
he was not alone. Unknown to Perry a
strange guest was sitting beside him, one
who comes unbidden to any feast where wine
sparkles and fruit and flowers blush and
glow. Singular that he should take a poor
little cripple for his host when he can have
kings and emperors for the choosing.































OIp


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"WHERU DO ALL THE DOLLS GO WE~E THEY DIBtR










But here he was, close beside Perry, whis-
pering in the child's ear, and this is what he
said:
"That knife is yours--it is just what you
need-it might have been twisted into use-
lessness or rusted and broken before any one
saw it, had you not been at the window. It
,vas just a chance that made you aware who
dropped it, and that careless boy can buy as
many as he wants, while you suffer for the
need of one.- How foolish you are to think
:or a moment of returning it! Take my
advice, keep it-say nothing to any body
about it, and no one will be the wiser !"
Perry pushed the plate away, saying to
himself: "I'm not a bit hungry-guess
IPe worked too hard."
Just then a small brown wren began twit-
tering on the maple tree, and a sweet scent
of honeysuckle was wafted in from the vine
outside. Perry loved birds and flowers more
than most boys-perhaps because he was so
much alone that he observed them more
closely but to-day the burden of the wren's
song seemed to be:
"c Don't you do it! You know why, you
know why!"
The tired little fellow curled himself upon
his bed and went to sleep. The strange,
invisible dinner guest went away. The wren
flew in her nest. Late that afternoon Ned
and Will and True, who had not only rowed,
but swam and fished for hours on the river,
were sauntering home in the tired, listless
way that boys fall into when their day's sport
is over, when they heard some one hallooing
to them.
Who's that?" said Ned, shifting the oar
he was carrying from one shoulder to the
other.
"Only one of those boys from Mickie-
town," answered Will. "Come on boys,
don't notice him. Look out for your fish,
True, or before you know it the scamp will
cut your string."
Just as he spoke, there sure enough, stood
a little chap with a knife in his hand.


PAIR CROCUSES AND SNOWDROPS.
G IVE flowers to all the children,
This blessed Easter day,
Fair crocuses and the snowdrops,
And tulips brave and gay;
Bright nodding daffodils.
i And purple tried WL


And sprays of silver lilies,
The loveliest of all.
And tell them-tell the children-
How in the dark, cold earth
The flowers have been waiting
Till spring shall give them birth.
Then tell the little children
How Christ, our Saviour, too,
The flower of all eternity,
Once death and darkness knew.
How like these blossoms silent
Within the tomb He lay,
Then rose in light and glory,
To live in heaven for aye.
So take the flowers, children,
And be ye pure as they,
And sing to Christ our Saviour,
This blessed Easter day.

HOW TO MAKE UP.
rTWO little people who couldn't agree
SWere having a tiff, and were "mad as could
be?"
They looked at each other in silence awhile,
Till a sudden glad thought made one of themsmile.
Said she, "Say, you ain't very mad, are you Bes.
sie?"
"Well, no," said the other, "nor you, are you,
Jessie?"
"Then let us make up," little Jessie suggested.
"Well, you be the one to begin," Bess requested.
But that didn't suit. So the tiff lingered still,
While the small-sized disputants were claiming
their will,
When, what do you think brought at last sunny
weather?
Just this: they agreed to begin both together.

"WHERE DO ALL THE DOLLS GO
WHEN THEY DIE ?"
T HAT is the question that is troubling
the busy brain of little Floss Crawford.
She has torn the beautiful doll, that her Pa
gave her and that Aunt Kate dressed so ele-
gantly, all apart. But that don't distress
her much. She has done that before, and
Aunt Kate became a doll-doctor and mended
the doll up just as good as new. But Flos.
sie has a busy brain, and she often asks a
dozen questions in a day that a very wise
man would find it exceedingly difficult te
answer. Just now, as she surveys the sad
condition of her doll, she says:
I'm just wond'rin where dolls go
when they die !"
Well, Floss, we can't tell you. It would
be little use to tell you that dolls don't die,
and what comes after death is very hard to
tall.







N evergpir L flie feifl 'k spirir Z
Bow H 1110e wi low jkA 5toqsP 10 e im.
Droop ijo ill ml! 'Tis Irv.ad' iu mmui
Nobly Ia so1 ru 51 Ald 'op iI i~ o sI ft
\Whk by ih 1'iJe OfJooiwk Jo mke
Ftfl t's Ike lxmi4 of ihk cjg\w /vitufl j; r,
Sil~mjl like JIV oGak...g -11' 'q~- sn~~
S~j Fri11 &'s ofk f oiie ruock of 1 o ce ~,A TO

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-~;-T~ le rsi~~ock of ib~ cCe~xzl for 6\~eS
G 1i wilh her whirlwil'i*our joys mny ik yv,
~_-Tue Ia ou~seivs w~ h&ve ~oihiiohH Ia
.B3 Ihis o uPr hOP & wnn ouu d&m1or Iotoe'wv,
N ew vespmr, oys! 01i, naer










A PATIENT FRIEND.
HIL BARNEY was promised that if he
won a prize at the forthcoming school
examination, he should have the young colt
that was then frolicking in the meadow, as a
further reward for his long and careful stud-
ies. When Mr. Barney promised this he had
no doubt about Phil winning a prize, for he
felt sure that such patient thorough work as
Phil had given to his lessons would be sure
to carry him to the head of his class. And
he was not wrong in his calculations. Phil
was acknowledged as the most successful
student of the year. When the commence-
ment exercises were all over, and Phil had
had a little breathing space, his father said:
"Now Phil, my boy, put away your books
and make the best of your vacation. The
colt is yours, but you will have a little
trouble breaking him in; but be kind and
patient and you'll succeed."
Phil tried the same method with "Snow"
-that was the colt's name, though it was
just as nearly black as you ever saw a colt-
that he did with his lessons. He was patient
and persevering; and to this was added a
little kindness and a piece of linro.-1.: ri
once or twice a day; and the result was that
Phil and Snow were fast friends. Phil
had been very patient with Snow's coltish
ways, and now, in turn, Snow became as
docile as a little child, and instead of having
to scamper all over the meadows for his colt,
he 1;inil stood and whistled, and Snow
came trotting as if he knew that Phil Barney
was not a hard and cruel master but a kind
and patient friend. N.'tlI i,, pays better
than kindness to animals or men.

THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND MEN.
THIREE hundred thousand men-
The brave, the good, the true-
In tangled wood, in mountain glen.
On battle plain, in prison pen,
Lie dead for me and youl
Three hundred thousand of the brave
Have made our ransomed soil their grave,
For me and you I
Good friends, for me and you I

THE LAME BOY AND THE KNIFE.
(Continued from Page 1S.)
T RUE turned and would have struck him
had he not seen that the child was lame.
As it was, he said crossly:
"Be off with you and let my fish alone!"


I don't want your fish," was the reply,
in a quiet, hurt tone, "I only want to give
you the knife you dropped this morning, and
tell you I used it. "
"What business had you to do that?"
began True; but his tone suddenly 1 -, ,:., 1.
"I beg your pardon," said he, "how ...i !v.:.,
know the knife was mine?" and rummaged
his pocket for a penny, which, not finding,
he drew forth instead a lump of jouH .
Here," said he, "don't you i.f t b ,. ? "
"No," said Perry, bat this seemed to con-
tradict his word.
"Yes, you do," said True, now good-
naturedly, "and I am much obliged to you;
the knife is new, and I've lost about a dozen
in a year. What did you do with it?"
I made some boats; I'll give you one for
the putty, for I believe I can use that. "
Certainly you can; come on boys, let's
go see the little chap's boats, I don't believe
they are good for anythii '. but it may please
him," he added in an undertone, conscious
that he had been too hasty and cross in his
first suspicion.
Perry led the way to his house, followed
by the three others, and when they saw his
day's work, they were both astonished and
ashamed.
"To think that a little lame chap could do
all this while we were lazying about, whis-
pered Ned; "and you don't mean to say
you can carve like that?" said Will, as he
took up something that looked like a puz-
zle of balls-one within the other.
"I can't do much," said Perry, modestly,
"'cause I haven't got tools-that's the reason
I used your knife, turning to True. "I
hope I haven't dulled it, and I'm sorry.
"You may keep it a week, a month, you
may have it out and out," said the impulsive
True.
"ito, I won't!" replied Perry, coloring
hotly.
"Why not?"
"Because- oh, no matter-only I am glad
you came back this way from the river, for
I don't know where you live, and if I had
gone on using it, I might have broken it or
something."
"Now, see here," said True, it 1:;i -up a
boat and .uli;, tili at it, "I am ii. to
the seashore, and I want half a dozen boats
like this. I can't make them myself, so if
you can, let's call it an order, and you take
half your pay in the use of the knife."










"That's fair," said the other boys, so Perry
yielded, and True, who had a turn for busi-
ness, drew up a contract on a piece of brown
paper, in lead pencil, and made every one
sign it. The boats were to be done in a
week, and were to cost twenty-five cents.
The bargain, however, did not end there.
True went to the seashore and showed his
boats to every one, telling all he knew about
Perry. The boat trade became so brisk that
the lame boy could hardly work fast enough,
and has been able to buy a very good knife
for himself. When True came home from
his summer jaunt, and found Perry looking
pale and thin, he did something else, in
which Ned and Will joined, they rowed him
out on the river once a day, steadily, and had
the satisfaction of seeing him get a nice,
healthy color in his cheeks.
Perry never told any one but his mother
the history of that summer morning-but
now that he cuts chessmen and sells enough
to buy books as well as knives, he often
thinks how different his life would have been
had he yielded to the subtle temptation of
his invisible guest.

A LAUGHING CHORUS.
MARGARET EYTINGE.
OH such a commotion under the ground
When March called, "Ho, there! ho!"
Such spreading of rootlets far and wide,
Such whispering to and fro !
And, Are you ready ?" the snow-drop asked;
Tis time to start you know."
" Almost, my dear," the Scilla replied;
Ill follow as soon as you go."
Then, "Ha ha I ha I" a chorus came
Of laughter soft and low
From the millions of flowers under the ground-
Yes-millions-beginning to grow.
"I'll promise my blossoms," the Crocus said,
When I hear the bluebirds sing."
"And straight thereafter," Narcissus cried,
My silver and gold I'll bring."
"And ere they are dulled," another spoke,
The Hyacinth bells shall ring."
And the Violet only murmured, "I'm here,"
And sweet grew the air of spring.
Then IIa I ha I ha !" a chorus came
Of laughter soft and low
From the millions of flowers under the ground-'
Yes, nillions-beginning to grow.
Oh, the pretty, brave things I Through the coldest
days,
Imprisoned in walls of brown,
They never lost heart though the blast shrieked
loud,
And the sleet and the hail came down,
But patiently each wrought her beautiful dress,
Or fashioned her beautiful crown,


And now they are coming to brighten the wor.,
Still shadowed by winter's frown;
And well may they cheerily laugh, Ha I ha -
In a chorus soft and and low,
The million of flowers hid under the ground-
Yes, millions-beginning to grow.

BABY'S GRAND DISCOVERY.
FREDERICK NYE.
W HEN Newton discovered the apple-
It must have been during the fall"-
When Fulton discovered the steamboat
And China the "raging canawl,"
When Eve set her eyes on the serpent,
When Franklin went flying his kite,
And pulled for his own observation
From the sky the electrical light.
When Columbus went sailing the ocean
For a mythical India bound,
And at last, after hunger and tempest,
On American soil came aground;
When Edison studied and pondered,
And found the machine called hello"-
The epoch was great-but this morning
My baby discovered her toel
And she lies on her pillow, and wonder
Is deep in her wonderful eyes--
And the dimples are answering her smiling-
And her smile is the smile of surprise.
She's a wee baby yet, but more famous
In one cosy household I know
Than all the great heroes of earth are-
Because she's discovered her toe.

YOUTHFUL FISHERMEN.
THERE is nothing as pleasant as fishing
to those who like fishing. But there
are a great many people who have no interest
in this kind of sport. A rather gruff old
man once described a fishing-rod as "a stick
with a worm at one end and a fool at the
other." Now -this saying is neither true
nor kind. A man must be something better
than a fool to make a really good fisherman.
He requires a fair share of skill and a great
deal of patience. A boy who can sit for an
hour watching his line perfectly satisfied if
at the end of the hour he gets only a little
fish, gives promise that when he is a man he
will not be lacking in those grand qualities
of patience and perseverance. Rob and
Alfred Newton are out for a day's fishing.
Rob is explaining to his younger brother
that half the fun is getting the right sort of
bait, and the other half is putting it on
right. Rob is not far from the truth. It is
however also necessary to drop your bait
where there are fish or you will not be a suc-
cessful fisherman.































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u ', ONARcH is aonrh magnificent doe. 12 i. Y.
"_' \\ \ '\^ i hair on his bushy hide curls with a i. I '.... '.... <-
..,',grace, and there is a.kingly look in-hi old, .i '' ',v.








- -- v- ._....... eyes. W oe betide the tramp or sus-. -'_1 ., ,,-
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and ldmps with him to his heart's content.
SWhoever doubts for a m nioment the power of dog
hair should spend anbushy hide ur with Monarh and
Percy, and there isa kingly look in his bold,
eyes. Woe betide the tramp or sus,;-,_. ..
stranger who dares to venture near his k t,_,,N I,.

and .,mps with him to his heart's content.
Whoever doubts for a moment the power of dogs
to love, should spend an hour with Monarch and
I Percy,









The Child. 9ke.


GREAT many years ago a flood swept over Holland, and a large part of the
water that came in then, still remains. It is known as "The Maas," and in
one part of it is a little island-a part of an old dyke or dam--which is
called the "Kinder-dyke," or child-dyke. The Ckristian Weekly tells how it
got its name:
"The waters rushed in over one of the little Friesland villages, and no one had any
warning. In one of the houses there lay a child asleep in its cradle-an old-fashioned
cradle, made tight and strong, of good stout wood.
By the side of the cradle lay the old cat, baby's friend, probably purring away as com-
fortably as possible. In came the waters with a fearful roar. The old cat, in her fright,
jumped into the cradle with the baby, who slept though all the turmoil as quietly as ever.


The house was torn from its foundations and broken to pieces. But the cradle floated out
on the angry sea in that dark night, bearing safely its precious burden.
When morning came, there was nothing to-be seen of the village and green meadows.
All was water. Hundreds of people were out in boats trying to save as many lives as
possible; and on this little bit of an island what do you think they found ? Why, that
same old cradle, with baby asleep in it, and the old cat curled up at her feet, all safe and
sound.
Where the little voyagers came from, and to whom they belonged, no one could tell.
But, in memory of them, this little island was called "Kinder-Dyke"-child-dyke-and it
goes by that name to this day; and this story is told to thousands of people all over Hol-
land as a remarkable instance of God's providence."






'WAhat the circus iia.


E were a quiet and sober set,
Little accustomed to noise and
fret,
Decent and modest at work or play,
And oh! so proper in every way,
Before we went to the Circus !

Nobody ever had seen us go
At all too fast, or at all too slow;
No matter how gayly we talked or sang,
We never had used a word of slang
Before we went to the Circus !

We went to church, or we went to
school,
By the very most orthodox kind of
rule;
For we were a people of Dutch descent,
And rather phlegmatic in temperament
Until we went to the Circus !

Alas and alas I 'tis a woful sight
The way we are changed at the time I
write !
Father is swaying against the breeze,
Hung by the toes from a high trapeze.
Trying to copy the Circus I

The boys on their heads, with feet in
air,
Are riding wild horses on each high
chair;


Or down on their backs on the side-
walk brick
Are balancing tubs for a juggling
trick;
And the girls have painted hands and
face,
And got themselves up for an Indian
race,
As they saw them do at the Circus!

Mother high up on the table stands,
Swinging the baby with both her
hands,
Swinging the baby with many a rub,
And brandishing him like an Indian
club;
While baby himself, in a terrible fright,
Howls like a Zulu from morn till
night,
Since we went to the Circus!

Alas and alas I can only say,
I wish in the night, I wish in the
day,
I wish with my heart, I wish with my
head,
I wish with my ears, which are nearly
dead,
I wish with a sort of mute despair,
I wish with a SHRIEK that would
rend the air,
We never had gone to the Circus 1
M. L. B.







SHAPING THE GOOD SHIP "MAUD."
-CAPTAIN WILKINSON was a sailor
When he was quite young; from a sailor
he became a ship's carpenter; and all in good
time he became a ship-builder. No man was
prouder of his work than Captain Wilkinson.
If you happened to be present when some
trim-built vessel at which his hands had
wrought was launched, you would have
seen his face all radiant with delight, as
the "thing of beauty" floated out upon the
bounding waters. There is no happier man
in the world than the man who loves his
work. When Captain Wilkinson is not
too busy he will often oblige the boys of
the old port, who are sometimes a little
helpful to him in his busy times, by shap-
ing out for them the hull of a boat and
leave them to put on the finishing touches.
Joe Payson is watching with wonder the way
in which a rough piece of wood suddenly
assumes the shape and proportion of a boat
under the Captain's skillful hands. This
little boat is to be called, The Lady Maud."
Joe says he knows a fellow whose sister is
named Maud, and when it's rigged and
finished, he means to make her a present of
the boat as a token of affectionate regard.
Happy Joe I and happy Maud !

THROUGH THE VALLEY OF TEARS TO
THE CITY OF REST.
ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
AS we speed out of youth's sunny station
The track seems to shine in the light,
But it suddenly shoots over chasms
Or sinks into tunnels of night,
And the hearts that were brave in the morning
Are filled with repining and fears
As they pause at the city of sorrow
Or pass thro' the Valley of Tears.
But the road of this perilous journey
The hand of the Master has made
With all its discomforts and dangers
We need not be sad or afraid.
Paths leading from light into darkness,
Ways plunging from gloom to despair,
Wind out thro' the tunnels of midnight
To fields that are blooming and fair.
Tho' the rocks and the shadows surround us,
Tho' we catch not one gleam of the day,
Above us, fair cities are laughing
And dipping white feet in some bay.
And always, eternal, forever,
Down over the hills in the west,
The last final end of our journey,
There lies the Great Station of Rest.
'Tis the Grand Central point of all railways,
Al1 roads center here when they end;


'Tis the final resort of all tourists,
All rival lines meet here and blend.
All tickets, all mile books, all passes,
If stolen or begged for or bought,
On whatever road or division,
Will bring you at last to this spot.
If you pause at the City of Trouble
Or wait in the Valley of Tears,
Be patient, the train will move onward
And rush down the track of the years.
Whatever the place is you seek for,
Whatever your aim or your quest,
You shall come at the last with rejoicing
To the beautiful City of Rest.
You shall store all your baggage of worries
You shall feel perfect peace in this realm,
You shall sail with old friends on fair waters,
With joy and delight at the helm.
You shall wander in cool, fragrant gardens
With those who have loved you the best,
And the hopes that were lost on life's journey
You shall find in the City of Rest.

WITCHES' NIGHT.
IF ROM the earliest times men have been
Trying to look ahead. The ancient
Egyptians had oracles where their gods were
supposed to answer the questions of men by
dreams and other ways; the ancient Greeks
also had famous oracles, which people came
from far-off lands to consult; the Romans
killed certain animals, and guessed at the
future by the looks of their internal organs;
the Hebrews and the Babylonians had their
own peculiar ways of finding out what was
to happen.
The world has not yet outgrown the long-
ing to look ahead. The Hindoo of to-day
sets a lamp afloat on his sacred river, and
judges of the future by the length of time it
burns; the Chinaman consults his "wise
men," who pretend to understand signs;
the ignorant African takes notice of the
cries of birds and animals; the English, not
long ago, tried to learn by help of what they
called "witches;" and Spiritualists, even
now, believe the predictions of "mediums."
No serious attempt to look into the
future has been tried for a long time by
intelligent people, and the old customs have
become a frolicsome trying "charms,"
especially on one night of the year. It is
curious enough that the night selected is
the eve of the festival of All Saints, which
was established in the seventh century by
a pope of Rome, in honor of all the saints
who had no particular day assigned to
them.












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CHRISTMAS PITY FOR THE POOR.
IT is true we have the poor always with us,
But in this happy land there is very little
of that abject kind of poverty that saddens
the heart of many older lands. There is bread
enough and to spare for the millions of
America; and yet, of course, there are many
who are very poor. And of all days Christ-
mas day is the day, when the gentle hand of
charity should be reached out to the home-
less, the needy and the sad. Let none pass
our doors unblessed to-day! For this is the
day when love should stretch forth a full and
bounteous hand.

A VESPER CHIME.
HOU high and holy One,
Whose care for sire and son
All nature fills -
While day shall break and close,
While night her crescent shows,
Oh, let Thy light repose,
On these our hills

WITCHES' NIGHT.

T HE Romans brought this to England;
there it became-All Hallows, and the
evening before it, Hallow even or Halloween,
and that was the night sacred to charms and
games. In the seventeenth century, Eng-
land gave up the night to feasting and
frolicking. Nuts and apples were plenty
from one end of the island to the other,
and Nuterack Night" was the name given
it.
In England, the revels were for fun, such
as diving for apples floating in a tub of
water, and of course getting very wet; or
trying to snatch in the teeth an apple on
one end of a stick, and a light on the other
end, and, being hung by a string, could be
spun around very fast so that the players
often seized the candle instead of the fruit;
or a playful fortune-telling by naming nuts,
roasting them before the fire, and watching
their conduct when heated, whether they
burned steadily, or bounced away, or burst
with a noise, each movement of the charmed
nut being of great importance.
One nut test was tried by grinding and
mixing together a walnut, a hazel-nut and
nutmeg, making into pills, with butter and
sugar, and swallowing them on going to
bed. Wonderful dreams would follow
(which was not surprising).
C5


In superstitious Scotland the night was
given entirely to serious and sometimes
frightful attempts to peer into the future by
means of charms. One way of trying for-
tune was to throw a ball of blue yarn out of
a window, and wind it into a ball again
from the other end. Near the last some-
thing would hold it fast, when the winder
must ask, who holds?" The answer would
name one who was to have importance in
the questioner's future.
Another Scotch custom was "pulling
kalestalks." A young person went. blind-
folded into the garden, and pulled the kale
or cabbage stalk he touched, and carried it
into the house. The whole future was read
from the stalk; the size indicated the
stature of the future partner in life; the
quantity of earth at the root showed the
amount of his or her fortune; the taste of
the pith told what the temper would be,
and when the stalk was placed over the
door, the name of the first person entering
was the fated name.
The Island of Lewes, on the coast of
Scotland, had some curious customs. Young
women made a "dumb cake," and baked it
before the fire with certain ceremonies and
in perfect silence, expecting to see wonders;
and the people also sacrificed to a sea-god
called Shong, throwing a cup of ale into the
sea, and calling on him to give them plenty
of seaweed to enrich their grounds.
In another Scotch trial, a girl would go in
a barn, holding a winnowing sieve, and
stand alone, with both doors open, to see
her fate.
The fashion of trying charms is now
nearly outgrown among English-speaking
people. It survivesin America as a pleasant
frolic for a social gathering. In our own
day, young people sow hemp-seed, eat apples
before the glass, and go down the cellar
stairs backward holding a candle and a mir-
ror. They also pop chestnuts, launch wal-
nut shells, holding tapers, and try the
three saucer test of fate.
In some of our cities, the boys on Hallow-
een collect old kettles, boots, large stones,
etc., and deposit them in clean vestibules,
ringing the door-bell and running away.
Thus the 31st of October-set apart for a
religious festival by a pope-became, in
superstitious times, "The Witches' Night,"
crossed the ocean as a season for frolics, and
ends with a street-boy's joke.
















The. Little ys Lnd. Sparrows.
(A J7ewish Legend.)


LIKE that old sweet legend
Not found in Holy Writ,
And wish that John or Matthew
Had made Bible out of it.

But though it is not Gospel,
There is no law to hold
The heart from growing better
That hears the story'told:-

How the little Jewish children
Upon a summer day
Went down across the meadows
With the Child Christ to play.

And in the gold-green valley
Where low the reed-grass lay,
They made them mock mud-sparrows
Out of the meadow-clay.

So, when these all were fashioned
And ranged in flocks about,
"Now," said the little Jesus,
"We'll let the birds fly out."

Then all the happy children
Did call, and coax, and cry-
Each to his own mud-sparrow:
"Fly. as I bid you-fly!"


But earthen were the sparrows,
And earth they did remain,
Though loud the Jewish children
Cried out and cried again-

Except the one bird only
The little Lord Christ made.
The earth that owned Him Master,
-His earth heard and obeyed.

Softly He leaned and whispered:
"Fly up to Heaven! fly!"
And swift his little sparrow
Went soaring to the sky.

And silent all the children
Stood awe-struck looking on,
Till deep into the heavens
The bird of earth had gone.

I like to think for playmate
We have the Lord Christ still,
And that still above our weakness,
He works His mighty will,

That all our little playthings
Of earthen hopes and joys
Shall be by his commandment
Changed into heavenly toys.


Our souls are like the sparrows
Imprisoned in the clay-
Bless Him who came to give them wings
Upon a Christmas Day!


ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS







PIGGY WIG AND PIGGY WEE.
p IGGIE WIG and Piggie Wee,
Hungry pigs as pigs could be,
For their dinner had to wait
Down behind the barnyard gate.
Piggie Wig and Piggie Wee
Climbed the barnyard gate to see,
Peeping through the gate so higb
But no dinner could they spy.
Piggie Wig and Piggie Wee
Got down sad as pigs could be;
But the gate soon opened wide
And they scampered forth outside.
Piggie Wig and Piggie Wee,
What was their delight to see
Dinner ready not far off -
Such a full and tempting trough
Piggie Wig and Piggie Wee,
Greedy pigs as pigs could be,
For their dinner ran pell-mell;
In the trough both piggies fell.

EVERYTHING JUST THE SAME 1
SOME years ago a farmer living in a vil-
lage bordering on Berks county, fur-
nished one of his three sons with a sum of
money and told him to go West and remain
two years, at the end of which time he
should return to Lancaster, stop at Scho-
field's, and one of them would be-there to
meet him. The young man started on his
travels, and at the end of the specified time
he returned. It should be said that tele-
graphs were not then in existence, the postal
system was not so perfect as it is to-day, and
literary attainments were not so general,
hence no communication took place between
the parties. He returned, however, as we
said. His brother was there to meet him,
and they both proceeded homeward in a
buggy. The wanderer, after relating some
of his adventures, inquired whether any-
thing had happened since he left home.
No, not a single thing," said the other;
" everything is just the same as when you
left- except that the old crow died."
"Indeed," said the wanderer, "and is
the old crow dead? What killed him?"
Why, he ate too much meat when the
white horses died."
"Good gracious! are the white horses
dead? What killed them?"
Well, you see when the house and barn
burned, they overdid themselves in hauling
water."


Good gracious! are the house and barn
burned down? How did it happen?"
"Well, you see when Daddy died they
carried lights about and were careless."
"Good gracious! is Daddy dead? What
was the matter with him?"
" Well, you see when our Helen ran away
and got married against Daddy's wishes, he
just pined away and died."
Good gracious! so nothing has happened
since I've been away? "
"No; everything is just the same !"

HOW TO ENRICH LIFE.
JOSEPH PARKER.

THE way to enrich life is to keep a reten-
tive memory in the heart. Look over a
period of twenty years, and see the all-covering
and ever-shining mercy of God. How many
special providence have you observed? How
many narrow escapes have you experienced?
How many difficulties have you surmounted?
How often have you found a pool in unex-
pected places? We should layup some mem-
ory of the divine triumphs which have glad-
dened our lives, and fall back upon it for
inspiration and courage in the dark and
cloudy day. Go into your yesterdays to find
God! Search for Him in the paths along
which you have come, and if you dare, under
the teaching of your own memories, deny His
goodness, then betake yourselves to the in-
famous luxury of distrust and reproach.


ENVIOUS ELEANOR.

I OOR little Eleanor! She was quite
Proud of her little wooden express
wagon and her doll with the bright blue
eyes, till she saw Lucy Carrington wheeling
out her little sister in the most beautiful of
perambulators wiuh a large hood for rainy
days, and a beautiful silk coverlet. Then she
became envious and cross, and despised her
own poor wooden wagon. It was very fool--
ish of Eleanor, but then thousands of people
three or four times as old as Eleanor are just
as foolish. They make themselves miserable
because they can't have a thousand things
they really do not want. We might take the
prayer of Shylock in "The Merchant of Ven-
ice," and changing just one word, say:
" Great heaven, the souls of all my tribe pre-
serve from envy."






PIcTIRs THrmT


TrIILL Ti-mIR Owis


5TOII.


PLEASE THE PATIENT




































































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OH. OH. THE MISTLETOE!


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Sphanklgiving at @ andpa's.

HERE we live, it snowed from morning till night on the day
before Thanksgiving. Papa and John, our hired man, got
the double sleigh down from the loft, where it had been
resting all summer. I don't think it was tired, but it rested
all the same.
Old Kate and Charley were harnessed, and they were
as frisky as young lambs. They seemed to know it was
Thanksgiving, and were as happy as the children. We were all wrapped up in
thick warm clothes, and packed in the sleigh. Large at it was, we filled it
quite full.
We all went to church first. Do you know what Thanksgiving means?
The good people who first came to make their homes in New England set apart
a day'and called it by this name. In the autumn, after the corn had been gath-
ered, the apples picked, and the vegetables put in the cellar, they felt very
thankful to God for these things. They fixed a time to meet in the churches
to give thanks to God. They gave thanks in prayers, in hymns, and in ser-
mons. They had a good dinner on that day, and were as happy as they
could be. The children and the children's children went home to spend the
day. It was the home festival.
People do not go to church so much as they did, but it is still the home
festival. We went to church: and after that we all had a long sleigh-ride to
Grandpa's. Uncle George and Aunt Lucy were there, and cousins were almost
as plenty as the snow-flakes the day before.
We played "blind man's buff" before dinner. We laughed and screamed,
and rolled and tumbled on the floor. Grandpa and Grandma sat laughing at
us, as happy as we were.
The great event of the day was the dinner. Grandpa sat at the head of
the table in his arm chair. Some of the children thought he never would get
his knife sharp enough to carve the turkey. Flora, the maid, brought it in, and
all the little ones screamed when she put it on the table. It was a very large
turkey, and was nicely browned. We never saw anything that looked so
good.
The turkey tasted as good as it looked. For ten minutes the children did
not scream or laugh out loud. I suppose their mouths were too full. Then we
had to eat plum pudding and four kinds of pies. We did not feel so much like
it as we did. I am afraid we ate all we could rather than all we.needed.
After dinner Grandma told us about her little ones. We all wanted to













































































































A JOLLY GOOD TIME.


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- *







know where they were now. Grandma laughed and pointed to Uncle George,
Papa, and Aunt Lucy. We could hardly believe they were ever little things
like us. Then Grandpa told us how he killed a great bear hear the old house
ever so many years before.
Uncle George showed us how to play "London Bridge." Some of us were
parts of the bridge and some of us went under it. After that we played "snap
apple." Aunt Lucy tied an apple by the string to the ceiling, and we bit at it.
Every time we bit the apple flew away from us. It was great fun.
After supper the great "day was over" with the little ones. We could not
keep our eyes open, and some of us slept all the way home in that double sleigh.
I know I dreamed about that long table at dinner, and thought we were
playing "snap-apple" with the big roast turkey.
That Thanksgiving was many, many years ago, and some of those mites
of little ones that played "London Bridge" are grandmas and grandpas now.
-UNCLE FRED.





Funny Liffle children .
HAVE a young dog which has not been named, but which we call "the
puppy." One of my little neighbors, a boy of five summers, always
speaks of him as the poppy-dog. The other day, while I was plant-
ing poppy seeds in my flower bed, this youngster came behind me with the
question, "What are you doing, Miss Julie?"
"Planting poppies, dear," answered I.
"Oh, Miss Julie, what lots of little poppy-dogs you'll have, wont you?"
We have an incubator, also a small colored boy to run errands, wash
dishes, etc.
On the arrival of the former, the little darky was very curious to know all
about it. He examined the article thoroughly, and then asked, "Say, Miss Julie,
what fur dat 'ar ting?"
"That's for hatching chickens, James," I explained.
"Fur to hetch chickens? Whar you put de eggs?"
"Inside," I answered, "and the lamp underneath and the water make the
necessary heat and moisture."
He looked quizzically at it for an instant, and then asked, "Miss Julie,
whar you put de hen ?"







(he Fearl helll.

NCE upon a time there was a little pearl
,i"* f shell that some mermaids found between
S' '' some rocks in the deep part of the ocean.
'O' ne day a mermaid went up to
-'i the surface of the ocean to sail the
"'',_- .shell as a little boat, when a storm
S '':-arose and made the sea very rough.
.The wind blew so hard that the shell
: '..-- .was upset, and washed away from the
'-~- : little mermaid.

-" ... -.'-- clinging to a piece of floating seaweed
-__- fastened to a rock. The shell was
driven way up on the beach.
The storm ceased, and the sun shone very bright. Some little poor chil-
dren were playing on the beach. They picked up the shell and carried it to a
large hotel, where they sold it to a
young lady.
This young lady painted beauti- /
ful fishes and mermaids on it.. When
the mermaids heard from a messenger '-
sea-bird that she had painted her own = -.
picture on it, they did not mind the
loss of the beautiful shell. -.,
And the young lady gave it for a _-.----
Christmas present to her poor sick --
mother. --- -7
The mother enjoyed it very much, because it made her think of the sunny
beach. -ETHEL I. BROWN.

q6e ouwe.
NNA Belinda sat quietly thinking, And though he was timid in manner, and
And Sally Hypatia sat reading a shrinking,
book, Yet Anna Belinda cried, "Mercy, I pray!"
When, out from a corner, with little While Sally Hypatia, not even once wink-
eyes blinking, ing,
A visitor crept with a wondering look; Jumped over the sofa and fainted away.








HEAVY LADEN.
MARY KNAPP.
O NE sung: "A heart may change its sky,
But not its burden;" and I found
The singer true; for, when grief crept
Into my life, and all around
Was blackened by its fingers dusk and cold,
I journeyed eastward and I journeyed west,
Where bright waves danced, where hills rose stark
and high,
But yet-the load was heavy in my breast!
I thought me of the words we hear so oft-
''Come unto me, ye heavy laden, come"-
And turned me to the height where gleams the
Cross,
And at its foot the burden fell-was gone'

THE TREES OF THE FIELD.
" TFTHE tree of the field is man's life !" said
L the inspired law-giver of the Hebrews.
In this short sentence, written over 3,000
years ago, is condensed all that trees do for us.
They give us life. Without them we could
not live. In destroying them we destroy our
means of existence. This may seem scarcely
credible, but it is a Biblical and scientific
truth. As a Biblical truth we may accept it
by faith, and as a scientific truth we may
search the records of science and be con-
vinced.
To the outward eye a tree is a very plain,
simple thing, with its root, stem and branch,
wood, bark, and leaf, given to us to provide
shade and fruit, and to gratify our sense for
the beautiful with its form and color. But
much more than this is there. There are in-
visible powers working ceaselessly within and
around it, which control and direct the ma-
chinery of the world. As we study the orig-
in and life of a tree, we learn with wonder
the mighty preparation made for its coming
on earth, and the abundant provision for its
continuance. We see, as Maurice de Guerin
wrote, "Nature all absorbed in the mystery
of her maternities," and realize that the gi-
gantic forces of the world which for ages of
aoons were busy upon the earth have been
preparing it for the growth of trees. The
forest was the finishing touch put on the
earth, and with it the dwelling-place, pre-
pared by God for man, was declared com-
plete.
The provision in nature for the renewal
and continuance of the tree growth is very
remarkable. When certain requisite condi-
tions of climate are present, the hardest rock


is as certain to be overgrown with wood a
the most fertile plain. Lichens and mosses
first prepare the way by retaining the mois-
ture of rains and dews and bringing it to act
with the gasses evolved from their own or-
ganic processes in decomposing the surface
of the rocks they cover ; they arrest and con-
fine the dust which the wind scatters over
them, and their final decay adds new mater-
ial to the soil already half formed beneath
and upon them. A very thin stratum of
earth is sufficient for the germination of
seeds of the hardier trees, whose roots are
often found in direct contact with the rock,
and which seem to want but little more from
the earth than the mechanical conditions fa-
vorable to the penetration of their roots and
the support of their trunks in an upright
position; the whole of their substance being
derived directly or indirectly from the atmos-
phere. These prepare the way for other
trees and plants by deepening and enriching
the soil through the decomposition of their
own foliage. This elaborate and careful
provision of nature to insure the permanency
of trees indicates that they must have a work
to perform which has its effect upon all the
conditions of the earth.

THE TASTE FOR READING.
F I were to pray for a taste which would
stand me in stead under every variety of
circumstance, and be a source of happiness
and cheerfulness to me through life, and a
shield against its ills, however things might
go amiss, and the world frown upon me-it
would be a taste for reading.

"DON'T BE DISCOURAGED."
ABEL VAUGHAN had tried, and
tried, and tried, but all in vain. It
seemed as if she could not get her lesson fixed
in her memory. Perhaps she was a little to
blame for being careless, but her governess,
Miss Hill, had an exceedingly kind heart, and
instead of rebuking her sternly she simply
said, "Don't be discouraged, dear. I know
lessons are hard to learn. And if they were
not a little difficult they would not be worth
the learning. As you grow older they will
come easier. Don't be discouraged! If at
first you don't succeed, try, try, try again !"
And Mabel did try, and under Miss Hill's
kindly guidance her lessons became less and
less a drudgery and more a delight.







A JUNE LOVE SONG.
CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES.
DASSING sweet with songs and roses,
Day is ours until it closes.
What though snow must yet be storming
Airs the red rose now is warming !
What care we, such rosy weather,
If we live this day together ?
By the scripture of my kiss
Never was a June like this ?
Oh, how joy and beauty bind us
To forget all ills behind us !
Though before us lie as many,
Thou and I care not for any.
June makes heaven in scent, sound, seeing;
Love makes heaven without our being.
By the scripture of my kiss,
Never was a day like this !

GENTLE GERTIE.
A FAIRY TALE.
LESLIE THORNE.
/EW mew mew !"
IL That was the sound that little Ger-
tie Goldenrod heard when she was picking up
dry sticks of wood along the edge of the
frozen wood.
Gertie looked around her.
There is no cat here in these woods," she
thought; "I must 1:e dreaming."
And she drew her little red cloak closer
around her shoulders, and shivered with the
bitter, bitter cold.
It was not for herself that she was gather-
ing the little faggots-it was to sell them in
the market-place, in order to get money to
buy food for her good old grandmother, and
her three little brothers and sister, who had
neither father nor mother to earn a subsist-
ence for them. And up to this time, all
Gertie's little life had been toil and drudgery.
"Mew mew I mew!"
Again Gertie stood still to listen.
"Perhaps," she thought, "it is Caspar
Chicklett's cat that he was going to drown
in the river. But it isn't drowned at all.
Drowned cats don't mew like that, poor
thing. It must be in great pain of some sort.
I mean to go and see what the matter is."
So Girtie laid down her little heap of dry
wood and rotten sticks, jumped over the low
stone wall, and ran down the meadow slope
toward the river.
"Mew! mew! mew!"
The nearer she came to the little belt of
pine woods the louder the mewing became,
until, under a veteran tree, where the pine-
needles made a brown, rustling carpet, she


saw a cat as white as milk, with eyes like
balls of emerald, with one hurt, bleeding
foot caught in a rabbit trap.
"Oh !" said Gertie, "this is not Caspar
Chicklett's cat at all. Caspar's cat is a hide-
ous little gray object, with a stumpy tail and
ribs that stick out like the bars of a gridiron.
But whosever cat it is, I will help it out of
its trouble."
So she opened the mouth of the trap and
the cat was free. And then she bound up
the bleeding foot with her own checked hand-
kerchief, and gave the cat a crust of bread
from her scanty dinner.
And then, after she had eaten greedily, the
cat hobbled away.
"Mind, now," said Girtie, holding up her
finger, "keep out of the rabbit traps after
this. Poor pussy I suppose I never shall
see you again. But I am glad I let you out
of the trap. I only wish that Granny was
rich enough to keep a cat, I would take you
home with me."
She looked up and down the meadow. The
pines whispered mysteriously in the breeze-
the frosted grass all leaned one way, and
down on the river the ice gleamed like a
sheet of looking-glass.
"I should like to slide on the ice," thought
Gertie. For hard-working little drudge
though she was, the instincts of childhood
rose up within her now and then, and down
she skipped lighter than any cork.
Lo, and behold 1 there, on the river shore
lay a little pair of skates, with silver straps
and beads that glimmered like diamonds.
Some child has left them," said Gertie,
looking all about for the owner.
But no child was to be seen-only the pines
and the frozen grass, all leaning one way, and
an old owl, huddled up in its feathers, like
old Father Martin in his black winter cloak.
"Well," said the Owl, "What are you
waiting for ?"
Gertie stared in her amazement. She had
often heard the owl hoot, but never before
had she understood his language. Dear,
dear! what was the world coming to, when
owls spoke good English, and silver skates
lay in the fields ?
"Please, sir," said she, at last, "I was
wondering to whom these skates belonged.
Perhaps you have seen some little lady or
gentleman pass this way ?"
"No," said the Owl, winking his eyes very
hard; "no, I haven't. I rather think they
are meant for you."








"But who on earth brought them here ?"
said Gertie, more amazed than ever.
Can't you guess ?" said the Owl.
No," answered Gertie.
"Why, the Fairies, to be sure," said the
Owl.
At this Gertie was greatly astonished.
"I didn't know there were any Fairies
hereabouts," said she.
There are Fairies everywhere," said the old
Owl. "Come, put on your skates. I want to
see you strike out, left-right-right-left."
So Gertie put on the shining, lovely things
which seemed to twine around her feet, as if
they had little clinging hands, and away she
went down the bright river with the old owl
clapping his wings by way of applause. And
after a little while the bushes along the river
shore changed to beautiful forests where the
icicles were bunches of fruit, and the pines
became shining castles, and she found herself
in a lovely place where little children, scarcely
larger than wrens and sparrows frolicked
around sparkling fountains, and a band of
music played the sweetest tunes and everyone
seemed to be doing nothing but enjoying
himself.
What place is this ?" she asked, eagerly,
"where every one gets enough to eat, and
the children play games and dance, instead
of picking faggots of wood and scrubbing
kitchen floors ?"
"It is Enchanted Land," answered the old
Owl, who sat on one of the pinnacles of the
Royal Palace, and plumed his wings as
calmly as if Girtie had not just left him on
the old elm tree a good seven miles away.
"I am a fairy, too, only you wouldn't suspect
it. I am the Wise Man of that place-the
schoolmaster of all the fairies. Only, as the
children know everything before they are
told, there isn't much for me to do."
"I should say not," said Gertie-and she
thought what a nice country this must be to
live in, where everybody knew everything
without the trouble of learning.
Just then a grand procession came around
the corner; the Queen, in her royal robes,
and all the courtiers, with gold-pointed spears
and nodding white plumes.
"You are welcome, Gertie," said her Maj-
esty. "After the great service you have
rendered to the Princess, we are resolved to
grant you three gifts."
(Because, you know, when you get among
the fairies, everything goes by threes.)
"But, oh dear! there is some mistake


here," said Gertie, beginning to feel very
much ashamed. "I have never even seen
the Princess. So how could I have rendered
her a service ?"
"Here is the princess!" cried all the
courtiers at once. And a lovely young
maiden, all in floating white robes, appeared.
But, as she walked, she limped a little; and,
to her surprise, Gertie perceived that one of
her feet was bandaged up with her own little
checked neckerchief.
"I am the poor prisoned Cat," said the
Princess. "Ah, you think it strange, but we
Fairies sometimes like to change ourselves
into different forms, and my cat-curiosity led
me into a sad scrape What would have be-
come of me if it had not been for you, I shud-
der to think. Because, if once I died by
neglect or cruelty, not all the fairy wands of
my enchanted home could restore me to life
again. Yes, dear little girl, you fancied you
were merely doing a kindness to a poor tor-
tured cat, but you were in reality extending
a helping hand to the daughter of the Queen,
of the Fairies."
"And now," said the Queen, smiling gra-
ciously upon Gertie, "you have only to wish
three wishes."
"And they shall be granted," spoke up all
the court in chorus.
Gertie drew a long breath. "I wish,"
said she, that Granny was entirely well of
her rheumatism; I wish that we had money
enough to live comfortably, and to educate
the children; and I wish that I may always
be able to help the sick and the suffering,
wherever I may find them."
The Fairies all shouted and clapped their
hands-the Queen said, solemnly:
"Your wishes are granted."
And the next minute Gertie found herself
sitting on the roadside, with her head against
a mossy rock, and a bundle of dry sticks in
her lap. Had it only been a dream ? But
no, it could not have been. One silver strap
was still twined around her foot, and the
neckerchief was gone from her neck.
And when she got home, she found Granny
quite well of the rheumatism, and heard the
news that a rich uncle, lost at sea, had left
them all his fortune. And she always be-
lieved that this good luck came from Fairy
Land.
And whenever she had an opportunity, she
was always ready to help the poor and ill; so
that throughout all the neighborhood, she
was known by the name of "Good Gertie !"









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fill the house."


With a bag this mouse, and a basket that mouse,
And a barrow t'other mouse, full they filled the house.






















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OH, WHO WOULD ROB THE BIRD'S
NEST?
ALEXANDER SMART.
OH, who would rob the wee bird's nest
That sings so sweet and clear;
That builds for its young a cozy house
In the springtime of the year;
That feeds the gaping birdies all,
And keeps them from the rain;
Oh, who would rob the wee bird's nest
And give its bosom pain?
For birdies are like bairnies,
So sweet and full of glee,
And they will not sing in cages
So sweet as in the tree.
They're just like bonnie bairnies
That mothers love so well,
And cruel, cruel is the heart
That would their treasures stea,


A TALK ON TEMPERANCE.
P. T. BARNUM, THE GREAT SHOWMAN.
I SHOULD have been in my grave twenty
or thirty years ago if I had not quit drink-
ing intoxicating liquors, as I did in 1847. I
had contracted the habit; had built up a
blind, unnatural appetite for strong drinks,
and liked the taste of every kind of liq-
uor -- though I suspect I liked the effects
still better. I began to grow careless and
"slothful in business," and put off till next
week what I ought to have done to-day.
Fortunately, I discovered that the habit was
destroying my health and my worldly pros-
pects, and by a most determined will power
I conquered the powerful appetite which I
had acquired for intoxicants, and broke it
forever.
I knew that habit was second nature, and
that the unnatural appetite for strong drinks
was stronger than nature itself, for every
glass of liquor drank increased the desire for
another glass, and so on ad libihtm, and
therefore, to have conquered such a fearful
habit was the saving of my life, and all that
was worth living for. When I found .', -.1i1
secure from falling back into the whirlpool
of intoxicants, I felt as a shipwrecked person
must feel when his life is barely saved by the
lifeboat, when many of his fellow passengers
were still struggling in the waves. Being
saved himself he is excitedly anxious to save
others. I felt so overjoyed at being snatched
from a habit which was surely dragging me
down to misery and death, that I found my
greatest pleasure consisted in circulating the
temperance pledge, giving temperance lec-


tures free of charge all over the country,
and using every effort in my power to en-
lighten public sentiment in regard to the
fearful delusion of strong drink. I particu-
larly urged young men and young women,
as I now do, to start right in life to avoid
this greatest evil in the land, because it is
the parent of nearly every other evil known,
and is sure to utterly destroy nine-tenths of
those who form the drinking habit. I begged
them to touch not a single drop, because like
opium, morphine and other narcotics, the
drinking of liquor calls for more, more, and
more to produce the same effect that a little
produced at first, and thus an artificial and
unnatural appetite was created that proved
irresistible in a great majority of cases. I
showed the youth of this country that their
health, happiness and success in life, as well
as of their posterity, depended upon whether
they started life's journey on whisky, beer
and other brain-muddlers, or on cold water,
nature's beverage, which gives the clear
brain, the firm hand, the strong resolution,
and the noble ambition to succeed in life
financially and morally. I am glad to know
that I have started thousands of young persons
on the right track, and that their example
will save hundreds of thousands of their pos-
terity and fellow-beings. It is one of the
greatest pleasures of the evening of my life
that I can look back and see the multitude
of young and married men, who were ruining
themselves and families by this social, delu-
sive, and absolutely fatal habit of dram-
drinking, whom I have been able to convince
that they were on the wrong track, and to
induce them to switch off and take the Tem-
perance track for life. Many a wife and son
and daughter have clasped me by the hand,
and, with streaming eyes, have thanked me
for having saved them front misery and
degradation, and saving their father and
husband.

THE DIVER.
CARL VON SCHILLER.
" H, where is the knight or the squire so bold
SAs to dive to the howling i i r i.. b below?
I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold,
And o'er it already the dark waters flow;
Whoever to me may the goblet bring
Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king."
And the knights and the squires that gathered
around
Stood silent, and fixed on the ocean their eyes:
They looked on the dismal and savage profound,
And the peril chilled back every thought of the prize.


























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And thrice spoke the monarch, "The cup to win,
Is there never a wight who will venture in ?"
And all, as before, heard in silence the king,
Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but gentle,
'Mid the tremulous squires, stepped out from the ring,
Unbuckling his girdle, and doffing his mantle;
And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder,
On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder,
As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave
One glance on the gulf of that merciless main;
Hark! a shriek from the crowd rang aloft from the
shore,
And, behold! he is whirled in the grasp of the main,
And o'er him the breakers mysteriously rolled,
And the giant-mouth closed on the swimmer so bold.
And, lo! from the heart of that far-floating gloom
What gleams on the darkness so swan-like and white?
Lo! an arm and a neck, glancing up from the tomb!
They battle -the man's with the element's might.
It is he! it is he! in his left hand, behold,
As a sign, as a joy, shines the goblet of gold!
And he comes with the crowd in their clamor and
glee,
And the goblet his daring has won from the water
He lifts to the king as lie sinks on his knee; -
And the king from her maidens has beckoned his
daughter,
And he bade her the wine to his cup-bearer bring,
And thus spake the diver, "Long life to the king!
Happy they whom the rose-hues of i1 ;, 1; ,i -j 1... .
The air and the sky that to mortals are given!
3May the horror below nevermore find a voice,
Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven;
Nevermore, nevermore, may he lift from the mirror,
The veil which is woven with night and with terror!
Quick brightening like lightning, it tore me along,
Down, down, till the gush of a torrent at play
In the rocks of its wilderness caught me, and strong
As the wings of an eagle it whirled me away.
Vain, vain were my struggles, the circle had won
me;
Round and round, in its dance, the wild element
spun me.
And I called on my God, and my God heard my
prayer,
In the strength of my need, i rI I: i'..' my breath,
And showed me a crag that .. ., i .'in-. the lair,
And I clung to it, trembling, and baffled the death.
And, safe in the perils around me, behold,
Qu the spikes of the coral, the goblet of gold!
Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that
now
A hundred-limbed creature caught sight of its prey,
And darted -0 God! from the far-flaming bough
Of the coral, I swept on the horrible way;
And it seized me_-the wave with its wrath and its
roar-
It seized me to save-king, the danger is o'er!"
On the youth gazed the monarch, and marvelled;
quoth he,
"Bold diver, the goblet I promised is thine;
And this ring will I give, a fresh guerdon to thee,
Never jewels more precious shone up from the mine,
If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again
To say what lies hid in the innermost main!"
Then out spake the daughter in tender emotion,
"Ah, father, my father! what more can there rest?
Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean;
He has served thee as none would, thyself hath con-
fest.


If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire,
Be your knights not, at least, put to shame by the
squire!"
The king seized the goblei; he u it on high,
And, -li1i;,,. ir fell in the roar I ir.. tide;
"But I"' 1 i. I i. that g,)b!ct '1,in to my eye,
And I'll hold thee the I. ...- I rl i rides by my side;
And thine arms shall embrace as thy bride, I decree,
The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee."
In his heart as he listened, there leapt the wild joy,
And the hope and the love through his eyes spoke in
fire.
On that bloom, on that blush, gazed delighted, the
boy;
The maiden she faints at the feet of her sire.
Here the guerdon divine, there the danger beneath;
He resolves! To the strife with the life and the
death!
They hear the loud surges sweep back in their
swell:
Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along!
Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell,
They come, the wild waters, in tumult and fi,- -
Rearing up to the cliff, roaring back as before;
But no wave ever brought the lost youth to the
shore.


AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA.
WHAT A DIVER SEES.
T HE experiences of a diver are many and
interesting. When walking under the
sea he is permitted to see some of the most
beautiful and picturesque scenes that the eye
can imagine. Fr i 1.1 i f', i below the surface
of the ocean the solar rays are distinctly visi-
ble through the watery mass, anr ill ,1i-i.-.-t-
are distinguished for several ;: ...... .'..I .t
around. Beyond that the tints darken into
finer gradations of ultra marine until they
fade into vague obscurity. The white sand,
wrinkled as though each billow had left its im-
pression at the bottom of the sea seems almost
like a reflector. Flowers, plants, molluscs,
prickly fungi, rocks, and various colored
shells seems to spring up from every side,
.1, ir 1., rays of the sun, striking through the
water and shading these submarine wonders,
form a perfect kaleidoscope of green, yellow,
orange, violet, indigo and blue. Plains of
sea-weed, of wild and luxuriant vegetation,
make a carpet of unrivalled ....1 i,: while a
perfect net-work of marine plants and sea-
weedfloats over his head. Be I I I.; f I .r .i- ii,
queer shell-fish, and variegated stones be-
deck the rocks and bottom of the sea like
precious gems. Thousands of fish of all
varieties and fierceness swim around in flocks
or singly, darting hither and thither after
their prey, or quietly watching the daring
intruder.





















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morn;
The monotono.,r i i '- i .',. i n.- ir.. IT-. r ,
Butsweetfoi .! ,l I tr .1 ... :. i u.ir .ll: 1 I'l u l

W hen building r l. .. .. -. r r,- I.. i,-..,
,.I i z_ f .; .. r ,,,, ..t I' .r,_ th .I'- ,
Oh, sweet to L .. -.i i. ...l Iu-.L ij.l'rr!l

A mother's fond lips pressed the trumpet of tin,
And blew her full soul through the barley and
corn;
Oh, I hear even yet the "Welcome, come in.
Come in, my dear boys, to the sound of the horn I"


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RESOLUTION. We should do nothing inconsistent with
TF you've any task to do, the spirit and genius of our institutions.
TL et me whisper, friend, to you, Doit, We should do nothing for revenge, but every-
If you've anything to say, thing for security; nothing for the past,
True and needed, yea or nay, Say it, everything for the present and the future.-
Garfield.
If you've anything to love,
As a blessing from above, Love it. They who pass through a foreign country
f y e a g t to their native home do not usually give up
Tht another's joy may live, Give it. themselves to the pleasures of the place.-
Atterbury.
If some hollow creed you doubt,
Though the whole world hoot and shout, Doubt it. That which seemeth most casual and sub-
j ect to fortune is yet dispersed by the ordi-
If you know what torch to light, n~mce of God _Kir Wncf'r Tlafiny i
Guiding others through the night Light it. nance of God.- Sir Waller Raleigh.
If you've any debt to pay, One great reason why many children aban-
Rest you neither night nor day, Pay it. don themselves wholly to silly sports, and
trifle away all their time insipidly, is because
If you've any joy to hold they have found their curiosity balked.-
Next your heart, lest it get cold Hold it.avefound their curiosity bked.-
Locke.
If you've any grief to meet,
At the loving Father's Meet it. Any man who puts his life in peril in a
cause which is esteemed, becomes the darling
If you're given light to see of all men.- Emerson.
What a child of God should be, See it.
In the man whose childhood has known
hhere's a message, sweet or cear, caresses, there is always a fibre of memory
Whispered down to every ear; Hear it. that can be touched to gentle issues.- George
Eliot.
HONEY FROM WISE LIPS.
MOTHER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.
TT is well to think well; it is divine to act
Swell.- Horace Mann. DLACING the little hats all in a row,
L Ready for church on the morrow, you know;
Reason is the life of the law-the law Washing wee faces and little black fists,
which is the perfection of labor.- Coke. Getting them ready and fit to be kissed;
Putting them into clean garments and white-
The right of private judgment is absolute That is what mothers are doing to-night.
in every American citizen.--James A. Gar-
field. Spying out holes in the little worn hose,
Leaving by shoes that are worn through the toes,
Old men's eyes are like old men's memo- Looking o'er garments so faded and thin-
ries; they are strongest for things a long Who but a mother knows where to begin?
way off.- George Eliot. Changing a, button to make it look right -
That is what mothers are doing to-night.
There is a small chance of truth at the
goal where there is not a child-like humility Calling her little ones all round her chair,
at the starting-post.- S. T. Coleridge. Ifearing them lisp forth their evening prayer,
Telling them stories of Jesus of old,
When you are in prosperity you need seek Who loved to gather the lambs to His fold;
no other revenge against him who envies you Watcling, they listen wilh weary delight-
than the rm.lili. Ili..[ he has from it.- That is what mothers are doing to-night.
Eastern Proverb. Creeping so softly to take a last peep
There are very few things in this world After the little ones all are asleep;
worth getting angry about, and they are Anxious to know if the children are warm,
isely the things which anger does not the lanket round each little form;
cisely the things which ager does not Kissing each little face, rosy and bright-
help.- Henry J. Raymond. That is what mothers are doing to-night.
No city-bred man has any business to ex-
pect satisfaction in a pure country life for Kneeling down gently beside the white bed,
Lowly and meekly she bows down her head,
two months unless he has a genius for leisure Praying as only a mother can pray,
and even laziness.- Henry Ward Beecher. God guide and keep them from going astray"





































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PRIMROSES.
TURDY little Jane is out betimes with
her large basket to gather the first flow-
ers of the spring, for long before the violets
open their blue eyes, the primroses show their
fair, pale, star-like faces. In the language of
flowers the primrose is the emblem of youth.
Many poets have sung of primroses, but none
more tenderly than the poet Clare. In his
"Village Minstrel," we have these lines:
Oh! who can speak his joys when spring's young
morn,
From wood and pastures opened on his view,
When tender green buds flash upon the thorn
And the first primrose dips his leaves in dew.
And while he plucked the primrose by his side,
He pondered o'er the bloom teenn joy and pride,
And a rude sonnet in its praise ie tried,
Where nature's simple way the aid of art supplied.


THE AMERICAN ROBIN.
WILLIS BOYD ALLEN.
Y ESTERDAY I saw a couple of boys -
honest, well-meaning little fellows, but
thoughtless throwing sharp-cornered, ugly
stones at some robins that were very busily
and happily picking up worms. It quite
spoiled the birds' breakfast, I am afraid, for
they were constantly frightened from one
spot to another, so that they could take no
comfort of it even when they did get a good
bill-full. It happened that I had been look-
ing oat for robins all through this cold
1''T I'.-, and these were among the first that
arrived. It really was rather a rough wel-
come, wasn't it? Then I thought to myself,
If those boys knew more about the habits
and every-day life of those red-vested birds,
and so learned to love them, they would want
to throw crumbs instead of stones; perhaps
they would even try to turn up the earth
here and there, and see how the birds would
gather round, and what fun they would have
picking up their morning's meal.
A few robins stay in our Northern States
throughout the winter, but most of them take
pleasure trips to New Mexico and Central
America. They return soon after the first
of March, and about four weeks later com-
mence to build. We all know where to look
for their nests-in the crotch or "saddle"
on the bough of an apple tree, or a low pine
in the pasture just beyond the orchard. Some-
bimes they choose odd places for a home. I


have seen one on the lintel of the front dooi
of a house, and another in a decayed cavity
in a large fruit tree.
After a firm foundation of mud is laid,
almost anything soft will do to help out the
walls of the nest, such as pieces of cloth,
string or newspaper. Four or five light-blue
eggs are laid, and a fortnight later the deli-
cate sky-colored shells have vanished, leav-
ing in their places a cluster of yellow, gaping
mouths.
Now commences the real labor of a robin's
life-labor such as few would ever guess.
Mr. Samuels tells us, in his ;!. 1. I book
about birds, that a young robin kept in a
cage by a friend of his, ate each day an
amount of food equal to one-third of its own
weight, which would be about sixty pounds
of meat for a man. When it was about three
weeks old it ate sixty-eight angle-worms in a
single day, and wanted more. Think of the
exertions required of the father and mother
to earn an honest living for four or five of
these hungry little fellows.
Robins are very glad to have a peck at
nice, ripe fruit now and then-look out for
your cherries! But, after all, they live almost
entirely on grubs and insects. If you want
to know what would happen should they all
be shot or driven away, read Longfellow's
" Birds of Killingworth."
It is a curious fact that young robins have
pretty, mottled breasts, turning to a ruddy
orange as they grow older. When about four
weeks old they find home too small for them.
They porch on the edge of the nest; their
mother flutters to and fro before them, and
shows them that flying is a very easy matter
-if you only know how! At last the dumpy
little things take courage, and with much
trembling and beating of heart, they launch
their small feathered boats upon the great
air ocean. How delicious it bears them
up They are in a frenzy of delight, and at
the top peg of self-respect, as they cling
awkwardly to the mossy apple bough at least
a dozen feet from home. How small the
nest looks now! Who wants to go back?
It requires little urging for the second
voyage.
But night comes on. It is very dark.
Great, cold drops of rain come pattering down
on the frightened brown backs of four young
robins, who wish very much that they were
at home.
Suddenly their timid chirping ceases; they
are quiet, and know they are safe, The dear,


































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KITTIE'S FIRST LESSON.


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watchful mother has never lost sight of them,
and now is at their side. She brings them
food, she preens their wet, uncomfortable
feathers, she hovers over them with warm,
protecting wings, and twitters softly to them
in that sweet undertone of love that all
mothers know so well. So the little ones are
comforted, and, head under wing, fall asleep.
Peacefully and happily the long summer
days pass by. Sometimes, but not often,
there is still another nestful of children to
feed and care for.
In city and country, from Greenland to
Florida, the cheerful whistle of the robin is
heard. The fruit ripens in the orchard and
the nights grow cold. Some morning in
early November the sparkling white frost
tells our cheery little neighbor that he must
move to his winter quarters. The warm,
sunny slopes of the South, the pleasant
groves of Mexico and Guatemala, are wait-
ing for him. By the tenth of the month
there are only a few robins left in the Middle
States and New England--sturdy fellows
who have wrapped their feathers about their
ears, and, choosing the deepest evergreen
thickets for their home, will stay all winter.


MR. STANLEY'S TESTIMONY CON-
CERNING DR. LIVINGSTONE.
SIHAVE been in Africa seventeen years,
and I have never mot a man who would
kill me if [ folded my hands. What I
wanted, and what I have been endeavoring
to ask for the poor Africans, has been the
good offices of C', i ., ever since Living-
stone taught me during those four months
that I was with him. In 1871. I went to
him as prejudiced as the biggest atheist in
London. I was out there away from a
worldly world. I saw this solitary old man
there, and asked myself, 'Why on earth does
he stop here?' For months after we met I
found myself listening to him, and wonder-
ing at the old man's.., ;' out all that was
said in the Bible. Little by littfi his sym-
pathy for others became contagions; mine
was awakened; seeing his pity, his gentle-
ness, his zeal, his earnestness, and how lhe
went quickly about his business, I was con-
verted by him, although he had not tried to
do it. How sad that the good old man died
so soon! How joyful he would have been if
he could have seen what has happened since
then."


HOPE.
SAST and chiefest of blessings is Hope,
the most common of possessions; for,
as Thales, the philosopher, said, "Even those
who have nothing else have hope." Hope is
the great helper of the poor. It has even been
styled "the poor man's bread." It is also
the sustainer and inspire of great deeds. It
is recorded of Alexander the Great that,when
he succeeded to the throne of Macedon, he
gave away among his friends the greater part
of the estate which his father had left him;
and when Perdiccas asked him what he
reserved for himself, Alexander answered,
"The greatest possession of all-Hope!"

SWAY THE COT GENTLY.
JOHN HARTLEY.
WAY the cot gently for ,.1. 1-.. p,
Veiled is his blue eyes' !..I -
Let no rude sound mar his slumber so deep,
See how he smiles in his dream.
Far from this cold world his thoughts are astray,
Mingling with angels above;
Bright are the visions he meets on his way,
pt. ,nii. through regions of love.
: ,, the cot gently for baby's asleep,
Veiled is his blue eyes' soft gleam;
Let no rude sound mar his slumber so deep,
See how he smiles in his dream.
Parents bend over that slumbering boy,
Watching his flickering breath;
Centred in him is their pride and their joy,
Nor fear they the visit of Death.
Slowly, yet surely, that dread guest appears,
And lays his cold hand on his breast;
Leaving those fond ones no solace but tears,
To weep o'er their babe gone to rest,
Sway the cot gently for baby's at rest,
Fled is his blue eyes' soft gleam;
Senccforth he dwells in the realms of the
blest,
Baby has died in his dream.

KITTIE'S FIRST LESSON.
K ITTIE and Elsie were great friends.
1K Elsie might do whatever she pleased
and Kittie would never scratch. One day
Elsie thought she would see what sort of a
pianist Kittie would make, and so determined
on giving herer hr first lesson. From the pic-
ture you would think Kittie a most intelli-
gent cat. She seems to be studying the
music most intently, as though she would
play by note and not by ear. But truth to
tell she don't like it a bit, and if anyone but
Elsie tried to teach her she would treat them
to an original scratching voluntary.













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3{unting Eggs.


HO wants to hunt eggs?" shouted
V Charlie the bold,
Who wants to go climb on the hay? "
"Oh, I "Yes, and I I" clamored Fannie
and Will,
"And me, too!" pleaded three-year-old
May.
So they rushed to the barn, helter-skelter,
and soon
Were driving about with a zest,
In the corners and rafters, the mangers and
hay,
To see who could find the first nest.
"And who gets the most eggs shall beg
grandma to bake
A cake we can share all around,"
So Fannie suggested; the boys cried "Hurrah!
We'll have every egg can be found I"
Nimble Charlie went clambering around like
a cat,
And soon counted "one, two, three, four! "
And then, with the pearly-white eggs in his
hat,
Slid carefully down to the floor.


"There's a nest !" Fannie cried, from far up
in the mow,
Right here in the hay! one, two, three !"
And in her white apron she gathered them
up,
As happy and glad as could be.
"Old Speckle's on mine I" shouted Will,
but just then,
With a cackle away the hen flew.
"Dear me !" said poor Will, "I was sure I
would beat,
And here I have only got two."
"Where's May?" they all questioned; oh,
where has she gone? "
"Here, here I is I foun' a nes'! "
And her curly brown head from the manger
popped up,
Just under the nose of Black Bess
"Oh, oh, sit still, May, or the horsey may
bite !"
But she counted one, two, three, four, five!
And they rushed to her rescue with laugh
and with shout ;
"She's got the most, sure as you live "


But there she was sitting in sweetest content
And down in her snug little lap
Five soft little kittens lay rolled into balls,
Contentedly taking a nap.

| ^_^ ^___________________________d?


Etiquette for Children.

LWAYS say "Yes, sir," "No, sir," Yes, father," "No, mother," "Thank you,"
"Good-night," "Good-morning," Excuse me." Use no slang words.
Clean faces, clean clothes, clean boots, and clean finger-nails are signs of good training.
Never leave your clothes about the room. Have "a place for everything and every-
thing in its place."
Never overlook any one when reading or writing, nor read or talk aloud while others
are reading.
Never interrupt a person who is speaking.
C,







The Uotoradco 3osnkey.


THE COLORADO DONKEY.


E little shepherd boy that I told you about last year lives three
miles from school. He and his two sisters have a way of getting
to school that is the envy of all small children.
They have a donkey-a real Mexican burro-with huge ears and small
body. It is about as tall as a year-old calf. It is very strong and sure-footed.
This donkey is gentle, and can go quite fast. It does not stop and







brace its feet and refuse to go, as some donkeys do; but it goes home faster
than it goes to school. The children both rode it to school, sitting on a bright
blanket that covered it from its neck to its tail. Each carried a little switch
and a lunch basket. They sometimes rode back to back, and generally
astride. When they reached the town, they took off his blanket and put
him in a stable. He often startled all the people near with his awful,
awful, AWFUL braying.
When Freddie got old enough to go to school, their papa had a
little cart made to fit the donkey, and in this cart the three children now
go to school. They also go to town on errands in the vacations, and in
this way they are a great help.
These donkeys are much used in mines and in the mountains. They can
go in steep, narrow places where no other creature can go with a load.
They are sometimes packed with so many things that only their legs can be
seen.
The miner will pack three hundred pounds on a donkey, including flour,
bacon, coffee, salt, frying-pan, coffee-pot, blankets, his pick and pan, and hay
for the donkey. Then they start on their long journey, going over danger-
ous rocks and narrow ledges, where if the donkey should miss a step, he
would fall many hundred feet.

















































V~I- R QrWor'Z Sr cET.


I'm little Robin Redbreast, Miss,
My nest is in the tree,
If you look up in yonder elm
My pleasant home you'll see.
We made it very warm and nice-
My pretty mate and I-
And all the time we worked at it
We sang most merrily.


I have a secret I would like
The little girls to know,
But I won't tell a single boy-
They rob the poor birds so.
Within our pretty little nest
Arranged with loving care
Are five sweet speckled little eggs,
Don't tell the boys they're there.




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