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THE ORPHANS' VOYAGE HOME.

The men could hardly keep the deck, so Meanwhile the cabin-passengers in dreams bitter was the night;

of pleasure roam. Koen north-east winds sang through the

shrouds, the deck was frosty white; At length the orphans sank to sleep upon While overhead the glistening stars put the freezing deck, forth their points of light.

Close huddled side to side,-each arm

clasped round the other's neck; On deck, behind a bale of goods, two With heads bent down, they dreamed the orphans crouched to sleep;

earth was fading to a speck. But 'twas so cold the younger boy in vain tried not to weep;

The steerage passengers have all been taken They were so poor they had no right near down below, cabin doors to creep.

And round the stove they warm their limbs

into a drowsy glow; The elder round the younger wrapped his

And soon within their berths forget the little ragged cloak,

icy wind and snow. To shield him from the freezing sleet, and surf that o'er them broke;

Now morning dawns: the land in sight, Then drew him closer to his side, and

smiles beam on every face ! softly to him spoke :

The pale and qualmy passengers begin the

deck to pace, "The night will not be long,” he said; Seeking along the sun-lit cliffs some welland if the cold winds blow,

known spot to trace. We shall the sooner reach our home, and

see the peat-fire glow; But now the stars are beautiful-oh, do Only the orphans do not stir, of all this not tremble so !

bustling train:

They reached their home that starry night! Come closer — sleep- forget the frost

they will not stir again! think of the morning red !

The winter's breath proved kind to them.

and ended all their pain. Our father and our mother soon will take

us to their bed; And in their warm arms we shall sleep!” But in their deep and freezing sleep He knew not they were dead.

clasped rigid to each other,

In dreams they cried, The bright morn For them no father to the ship shall with breaks! Home, home is here, my the morning come;

brother! For them no mother's loving arms are The angel Death has been our friend spread to take them home;

we come! dear father ! mother!”

ANON.

THE BLIND GIRL'S LAMENT.

It is not that I cannot see

The birds and flowers of spring ; 'Tis not that beauty seems to me

A dreamy, unknown thing ;

They tell me that the birds, whose uctes

Fall full upon mine ear,
Are not all beautiful to sight,

Though sweet their songs to hear.

It is not that I cannot mark

The blue and star-set sky;
Nor oceau's foam, nor mountain's peak,-

That thus I weep and sigh.

They tell me that the gayest flowers

Which sunshine ever brings
Are not the ones I know so well,

But strange and scentless things.

My little brother leails une forth

To where the violets grow;
His gentle, light, yet careful step

And tiny hand I know.

My father twines his arms around,

And draws me to his breast,
To kiss the poor, blind, helpless girl

He says he loves the best.

My mother's voice is soft and sweet,

Like music on my ear;
The very atmosphere seems love

When these to me are near.

'Tis then I ponder unknown things,

It may be, weep or sigh,
And think how glorious it must be
To meet affection's eye.

Anox.

THE ARK AND THE DOVE.

blue eye

"TELL me a story, please,” my little girl

Naught she spied Lisped from her cradle. So I bent me down, Save wide, dark waters, and a frowning sky, And told her how it rained and rained and Nor found her weary foot a place of rest. rained,

So, with a leaf of olive in her mouth, Till all the flowers were covered, and the Sole fruit of her drear voyage,

which

pertrees

chance Hid their tall heads, and where the houses Upon some wrecking billow floated by, stood

With drooping wing the peaceful ark sho And people dwelt a fearful deluge rolled; sought. Because the world was wicked, and refused To heed the words of God.

The righteous man that wandering dove

received,
But one good man, And to her mate restored, who, with sad
Who long had warned the wicked to repent, moans,
Obey, and live, taught by the voice of Had wondered at her absence.

Heaven,
Had built an ark; and thither, with his wife

Then I looked And children, turned for safety.

Upon the child, to see if her young thoughts

Wearied with following mine. But her

Two and two, Of beasts and birds and creeping things, he was a glad listener, and the eager breath took,

Of pleased attention curled her parted lip. With food for all; and, when the tempest roared,

And so I told her how the waters dried, And the great fountains of the sky poured And the green branches waved, and the out

sweet buds A ceaseless flood, till all beside were Came up in loveliness, and that meek dove drowned,

Went forth to build her nest, while thouThey in their quiet vessel dwelt secure.

sand birds

Awoke their songs of praise, and the tired And so the mighty waters bare them up,

ark And o'er the bosom of the deep they sailed Upon the breezy breast of Ararat For many days. But then a gentle dove Reposed, and Noah with glad spirit reared "Scaped from the casement of the ark, and An altar to his God.

spread Her lovely pinion o'er that boundless wave.

Since, many a time,

When to her rest, ere evening's earliest All was desolation. Chirping nest,

star, Nor face of man, nor living thing she saw; That little one is laid, with earnest tone, For all the people of the earth were And pure cheek pressed to mine, she fondly drowned,

says, Because of disobedience.

“Tell me the story of the Dove."

SIGOURNEY.

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FLY away, Ladybird, fly away

Fly away, Ladybird, fly awayAway, away, away!

Away, away, away! Fly from the wind of the wintry day; Go with the happy, the glad, and the gay; Why do you linger?-away, away!

Gem of the garden, away, away! The flower and the tree have no home for The flower and the tree, what are they to thee;

thee? The gay and the fair are lonely and bare: Alone let them die, and far away fly. Then fly away, Ladybird, fly away

Fly away, Ladybird, fly awayAway, away, away!

Away, away, away!

S. C. HALL.

THE FRETFUL CHILD.

DEAR, unhappy, fretful child,

Come and let us talk a while; Tears your face have sadly spoiled,

And I cannot see a smile.

Brows are frowning, eyes are sad,

Lips are sullen, words are sour;--Ah! my darling, this is bad,

Thus to mar the fleeting huur.

God hath given you every good

Home, kind friends, who love you well,
Light and clothing, health and food-

Blessings more than I can tell.
Oh, it is an evil thing

For youth, upon its happy way,
Thankless, to be murmuring,
When it should be glad and gay!

MARY BENNETT.

1

THE ORPHANS.

My chaise the village inn did gain,

Just as the setting sun's last ray Tipped with refulgent gold the vane

Of the old church across the way. Across the way I silent sped,

The time till supper to beguile In moralizing o'er the dead

That mouldered round the ancient pile. There many a humble green grave showed

Where want, and pain, and toil did rest; And many a flattering stone I viewed

O'er those who once had wealth possest. A faded beech its shadow brown

Threw o'er a grave where sorrow slept, On which, though scarce with grass o'er

grown, Two ragged children sat and wept. A piece of bread between them lay,

Which neither seemed inclined to take; And yet they looked so much a prey

To want, it made my heart to ache. “My little children, let me know

Why you in such distress appear, And why you wasteful from you throw That bread which many a one might

cheer?” The little boy, in accents sweet,

Replied, while tears each other chased : “Lady, we've not enough to eat

Ah! if we had we should not waste. But sister Mary's naughty grown,

And will not eat, whate'er I say; Though sure I am the bread's her own,

For she has tasted none to-day.”“Indeed,” the wan, starved Mary said,

“Till Henry eat I'll eat no more; For yesterday I got some bread,

He's had none since the day before."My heart did swell, my bosom heave,

I felt as though deprived of speech; Silent I sat upon the grave,

And clasped the clay-cold hand of each. With looks of woe too sadly true,

With looks that spoke a grateful heart, The shivering boy then nearer drew,

And did his simple tale impart: “Before my father went away,

Enticed by bad men o'er the sea,

Sister and I did nought but play

We lived beside yon great ash tree. But then poor mother did so cry,

And looked so changed, I cannot tell; She told us that she soon should die,

And bade us love each other well. She said that, when the war was o'er,

Perhaps we might our father see; But if we never saw him more,

That God our Father then would be! She kissed us both, and then she died,

And we no more a mother have; Here many a day we've sat and cried

Together at poor mother's grave. But when my father came not here,

I thought if we could find the sea, We should be sure to meet him there,

And once again might happy be. We hand in hand went many a mile,

And asked our way of all we met; And some did sigh, and some did smile,

And we of some did victuals get. But when we reached the sea, and found

'Twas one great water round us spread, We thought that father must be drowned, And cried, and wished we both were

dead.
So we returned to mother's grave,

And only long with her to be ;
For Goody, when this bread she gave,

Said father died beyond the sea.
Then since no parent we have here,

We'll go and search for God around; Lady, pray can you tell us where

That God, our Father, may be found? He lives in heaven, mother said,

And Goody says that mother's there; So, if she knows we want his aid,

I think perhaps she'll send him here." I clasped the prattlers to my breast,

And cried, “Come both and live with me; I'll clothe you, feed you, give you rest,

And will a second mother be. And God shall be your Father still;

was he in mercy sent me here, To teach you to obey his will, Your steps to guide, your hearts to cheer.”

ANON.

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