and in this way had rendered her supremely selfish.

The day on which she had this wonderful dream, she had taken quite a long walk to call on some young friends, and on her return, sat herself down in the parlor to look over their daily paper. We have heard her expressed wish for golden sand, and have seen how quietly she fell asleep; and now we will follow her still farther in dream-land. She now resolved that the advice and instruction of these kind people should be her guide for the future, and that her power should be henceforth devoted to usefulness.

She turned towards a venerable man, and asked, "Will not you too give me some good thing?" "I am a very aged man," he replied, "and can say but little to interest so young a person as yourself,

however, as you request it, here are a few grains of sand for you."

So the aged Augustine gave to Kate these short sayings:

"Only he has a good mind who does what he ought to do.

No one sins against another, without first sinning against himself.

Rashly to judge another's heart, is sin; and to reprehend another from mere suspicion that he may have done wrong, is gross injustice.

The way to life is indeed narrow; but it can be passed only by a dilated heart."

Kate passed along to another party who were enjoying the cool breezes, which wafted in at the open window the perfume of many flowers, which from their fragrance, one might infer that they bloomed in Eden still. Mrs. Gilman was speaking to a friend of children, of their thoughts, feelings, and wishes. She remarked that she had put the simply expressed wish of a child in rhyme, as children were always better pleased with verse than with prose, and for them she principally used her pen. The friend desired Mrs. Gilman to repeat the lines to which she alluded, as they would, no doubt, afford her companions both amusement and profit.

The Child's Wish in June.

"Mother, mother, the winds are at play,
Prithee, let me be idle to day.

Look, dear mother, the flowers all lie
Languidly under the bright blue sky.
See, how slowly the streamlet glides;
Look how the violet roguishly hides;
Even the butterfly rests on the rose,
And scarcely sips the sweets as he goes.
Poor Tray is asleep in the noon-day sun,
And the flies go about him one by one;
And pussy sits near with a sleepy grace
Without even thinking of washing her face;
There flies a bird to a neighboring tree,
But very lazily flieth he,

And he sits and twitters a gentle note
That scarcely ruffles his little throat.

You bid me be busy; but mother, hear
How the hum-drum grasshopper soundeth

near,

And the soft west wind is so light in its play, It scarcely moves a leaf on the spray.

I wish, oh, I wish, I was yonder cloud,
That sails about with its misty shroud
Books and work I no more should see,

And I'd come and float, dear mother o'er thee."

N. P. Willis then added to the happiness of this pleasant circle, by repeating one of his own delightful productions, of which it has been said, that "Willis has said many pretty things very prettily." This little gem is deservedly admired for its beautiful delineation of a child's simplicity.

A Child's First Impression of a Star. "She had been told that God made all the stars

That twinkled up in heaven, and now she stood

Watching the coming of the twilight on,
As if it were a new and perfect world,
And this were its first eve. How beautiful