"I thought God heard me," said the boy. I answered with a nod;

I could not speak, but much I thought

Of that boy's faith in God.

THE CHATTERBOX.

Rev. Dr. Hawks.

From morning till night, it was Lucy's delight
To chatter and talk without stopping;
There was not a day but she rattled away,
Like water for ever a dropping.

As soon as she rose, while she put on her clothes,
'T was vain to endeavor to still her;
Nor once did she lack to continue her clack,
Till again she lay down on her pillow.

How very absurd! and have you not heard
That much tongue and few brains are con-

nected;

That they are supposed to think least who talk most?

Their wisdom is always suspected.

While Lucy was young, if she'd bridled her tongue

With a little good-sense and exertion,

Who knows but she might now have been our

delight,

Instead of our jest and aversion.

Taylor.

LOVE YOUR LITTLE BROTHER.

I had a little friend;

And every day he crept

In sadness to his brother's tomb,
And laid him down and wept.

And when I asked him why
He mourned so long and sore,

He answered through his tears," Because
I did not love him more.

"Sometimes I was not kind,

Or cross, or coldly spake;"

And then he turned away, and sobbed
As though his heart would break.

Brothers and sisters are a gift
Of mercy from the skies;
And may I always think of this
Whene'er they meet my eyes,

Be tender, good, and kind,

And love them in my heart,

Lest I should sigh with bitter grief,
When we are called to part.

Mrs. Sigourney.

THE ANTS.

A little black ant found a large grain of wheat, Too heavy to lift or to roll;

So he begged of a neighbor he happened to meet, To help it down into his hole.

I've got my own work to look after, said he; You must shift for yourself, if you please; So he crawled off as selfish and cross as could be, And lay down to sleep at his ease.

Just then a black brother was passing the road, And seeing his brother in want,

Came up and assisted him in with his load, For he was a good-natured ant.

Let all who this story may happen to hear,
Endeavor to profit by it;

For often it happens that children appear
As cross as the ant, every bit.

And the good-natured ant who assisted his brother

May teach those who choose to be taught, That if little insects are kind to each other, Then children most certainly ought.

Oh, Anna, this will never do,

This work is sadly done, my dear;

And then so little of it, too

You have not taken pains, I fear.

Oh, no, your work has been forgotten; Indeed, you hardly thought of that: I saw you roll your spool of cotton About the floor, to please the cat.

See, here are stitches straggling wide,
And others stretching down so far,
I'm very sure you have not tried
In this, at least, to please mamma.
The little girl who will not sew,

Must neither be allowed to play;
And now I hope, my love, that you
Will take more pains another day.

MY FATHER BLESSED ME.

My father raised his trembling hand,
And laid it on my head;

"God bless thee, O my son, my son!"
Most tenderly he said.

He died, and left no gems or gold :
But still I was his heir;

For that rich blessing which he gave
Became a fortune rare.

Still, in my weary hours of toil

To earn my daily bread,

It gladdens me in thought to feel
His hand upon my head.

Though infant tongues to me have said, "Dear father," oft since then,

Yet when I bring that scene to mind, I'm but a child again.