Stand fast in your place, act your part like a man; And when duty calls, answer promptly, I can!

What We Love.

MARY.

I love the cheerful summer-time,
With all its birds and flowers,—

Its shining garments green and smooth,
Its cool, refreshing showers.

JENNIE.

I love to hear the little birds
That carol on the trees;

I love the gentle, murmuring stream,
I love the evening breeze.

ALICE.

I love the bright and glorious sun,
That gives us light and heat;

I love the pearly drops of dew
That sparkle 'neath my feet.

CHARLES.

I love to hear the hum

Of honey making bees,

And learn a lesson, hard to learn,

Of patient industry.

I love the faithful, watchful dog,
Who guards them night and day.

SARAH.

I love to think of Him who made
These pleasant things for me;

Who gave me life, and health, and strength,
And eyes that I might see.

I have a little voice within

That always tells me when I sin;
I'm sure I know not whence it came,
Pray, sister, tell me what's its name?
There is no one, however near,
Whispers so sternly in my ear;
And often in my lively play,
If any thing I do or say

That's wrong or wicked, then I hear
This gentle tapping in my ear.
I know it is not Mother's tone,
Nor Father's, for when they are gone,
It keeps on prompting just the same,
If aught I do that they would blame.

MARY.

And, brother, don't it always tell
In kindly notes when you've done well?
Are not its whispers always mild
When you have been a duteous child?
God gave not to the bud nor flower,
This inward voice of wondrous power.
Ah, no, it only has its birth

In us, who perish not with earth;
Its name is conscience, and 'twill be
A voice from which you cannot flee;
It keeps a registry within,
Rebuking those who live in sin,
And utters words of softest tone
To those who will its dictates own.

Freedom's Jubilee.

BOY.

Father, took up and see that flag,

How gracefully it flies

Those pretty stripes-they seem to be

A rainbow in the skies.

FATHER.

It is your country's flag, my son,
And proudly drinks the light;
O'er ocean's wave, in foreign climes,
A symbol of our might.

ΒΟΥ.

Father, what fearful noise is that,
Like thundering in the clouds?
Why do the people wave their hats
And rush along in crowds?

FATHER.

It is the voice of cannonry-
The glad shouts of the free;
This is a day to memory dear-
'Tis Freedom's Jubilee.

BOY.

I wish that I was now a MAN,
I'd fire my cannon too;

And cheer as loudly as the rest-
But, father, why don't you?

FATHER.

I am getting old, and weak-ut still

My heart is big with joy ;

I've witnessed many a day like thisShout YOU aloud, my boy.

BOY.

Hurrah! for Freedom's Jubilee!

God bless our native land!

And

may

I live to hold the boon

Of Freedom in my hand!

FATHER.

Well done, my boy-grow up and love
The land that gave you birth-
A land where freedom loves to dwell-
A paradise on earth.

The Child's Lessons.

MARY.

"Mother, may I stay at home?
I hate to go to school,
And study all the live-long day;
I'd rather be a fool.

"Little birds are flying round,

So merry, bright, and gay;
And bees are buzzing in the vines
The whole long summer day;

"Flowers nod brightly in the wind;
The trees are all in bloom;