O, never was a lovelier plaything seen,
To childhood's simplicity given,

It seemed like a delicate link between

The creatures of earth and heaven:

But the sunbeam was crossed by an angry cloud,
And the gossamer died in the shadowy shroud,
And the child looked sad, when the bright things fled,
and its tears were shed.

And its smile was gone,

O gentle child, in thy infant play,
An emblem of life hast thou seen;

For joys are like sunbeams,

more fleeting than

they,

And sorrows cast shadows between ;

And friends that in moments of brightness are won,

Like gossamer, only are seen in the sun.

O, many a lesson of sadness may

Be learned, from a joyous child at play.

THE BABY'S COMPLAINT.

Now, I suppose you think because you never see me do anything but feed and sleep, that I have a

very nice time of it. Let me tell that you are mistaken, and that I am tormented half to death, though I never say anything about it. How should you like every morning to have a pin put through your dress into your skin, and to have to bear it all day until your clothes were taken off at night? How should you like to be held so near the fire that your eyes were half scorched out of your head, while the nurse was reading a novel? How should you like to have a great fly on your nose, and not know how to take aim at him with your little fat, useless fingers?..... How should you like to tire yourself out crawling away across the carpet, to pick up a pretty button or pin, and have it snatched away as soon as you begin to enjoy it? I tell you it is enough to ruin any baby's temper! How should you like to have your mamma stay at a party till you were as hungry as a little cub, and be left to the mercy of a nurse, who trotted you up and down till every bone in your body ached? How should you like when your mamma dressed you all up pretty to take the nice fresh air, to spend the afternoon in some smoky kitchen, while she gossips with some of her cronies? How should you like

to have your toes tickled by all the little children who insisted on seeing "baby's feet”? How should you like to have a dreadful pain

66

under your apron,

cross little thing," tell what was the

and have everybody call you a when you could not speak to matter with you? How should you like to crawl to the top of the stairs (just to look about a little) and pitch heels over head from the top to the bottom? .....

GOOD LIFE, LONG LIFE.

EXTRACT FROM AN ODE PINDARIC. AUTHOR BORN 1754.

A LILY of a day

Is fairer far in May;

Although it fall and die that night,

It was the plant and flower of light!
In small proportions. we just beauties see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.

THE CHILD'S REVERIE.

The idea of the following lines was really expressed by a little boy five years old.

O, I long to lie, dear mother,

On the cool and fragrant grass,

With naught but the sky above my head,
And the shadowing clouds that pass.

And I want the bright, bright sunshine,
All round about my bed,

I will close my eyes, and God will think
Your little boy is dead!

Then Christ will send an angel

To take me up to him;

He will bear me, slow and steadily,
Far through the ether dim.

He will gently, gently lay me

Close to the Saviour's side,

And when I'm sure that we 're in heaven,
My eyes I'll open wide.

And I'll look among the angels

That stand about the throne, Till I find my sister Mary,

For I know she must be one.

And when I find her, mother,
We will go away alone,

And I will tell her how we 've mourned,
All the while she has been gone!

O, I shall be delighted

To hear her speak again,

Though I know she 'll ne'er return to us,

To ask her would be vain!

So I'll put my arms around her,
And look into her eyes,

And remember all I said to her,
And all her sweet replies.

And then I'll ask the angel
To take me back to you,
He'll bear me, slow and steadily,

Down through the ether blue.