A woman very pale and thin—

A widow too, she said—

And six young children, none of whom

This day had tasted bread;

And not a single spark of fire
This bitter, freezing day:

Now, was there e'er a sadder sight,
Dear Cousin Susey, say?

Three little ones tried to keep warm
In a poor wretched bed;

So cold was one the mother held,
I surely thought 't was dead.
Could you have seen how glad they looked,
When mother sent for wood,

And bread and meat enough for all,
Susey, 't would do you good.

SUSEY.

I have a dollar here, dear Bell,
Pa gave me yesterday;

I'll give it them: come, go with me,
We'll run there all the way.

I'd rather make a sad heart smile

Than buy a doll, I'm sure; Indeed, it must be very hard Such sorrow to endure.

God made them poor-he made us rich, The wealth is all his own;

It was for them as well as us

The Saviour left his throne.

Let us henceforth save something, Bell,
To help the suffering poor,
And for God's bounty to us both

His blessed name adore.

THE SETTING SUN.

Dear John, the sun is setting now,
Behold him in the west;

And all the children now must soon
Lie down and go to rest.

In other countries far away,
The day begins to break;

And many a child and many a bird
Will soon be wide awake.

But when the sun comes round again,
And rises in our east,

Then evening will begin with them,

And they to bed will haste.

How very good in God it is,

To make the sun to go

All round this great round world of ours,

To light each country so.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star;
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the glorious sun is set,
When the grass with dew is wet,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep;

For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveller in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

THE SNOWDROP.

Now the spring is coming on,
Now the snow and ice are gone,
Come, my little snowdrop-root,
Will you not begin to shoot?

Ah, I see your little head
Peeping from the flower-bed,
Looking out so green and gay
On this fine and pleasant day.

For the mild south wind doth blow,
And hath melted all the snow;
And the sun shines out so warm,
You need not fear another storm.

So your pretty flowers show,
And your petals white undo;
Then you 'll hang your modest head.
Down upon my flower-bed.

A WALK IN SPRING.

I'm very glad the spring is come: the sun shines out so bright,

The little birds upon the trees are singing for delight;

The young grass looks so fresh and green, the lambs do sport and play,

And I can skip and run about as merrily as they.

I like to see the daisy and the buttercups once

more,

The primrose, and the cowslip too, and every pretty flower;

I like to see the butterfly extend her painted

wing,

And all things seem just like myself, so pleased to see the spring.

The fishes in the little brook are jumping up so high,

The lark is singing sweetly as she mounts into the sky;

The rooks are building up their nests upon the great oak-tree,

And every thing's as busy and as happy as can be.