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.

I hate to see her pretty dress
So careless look and tossed,
Her toys all scattered here and there,
Her thread and needle lost.

I hate to see her, at her play,
When little girls have met
To frolic, laugh, and run about,
Grow peevish, cry, and fret.

I hate to hear her tell a lie-
What's not her own to take;
Mamma's commands to disobey,
And father's rules to break.

And now I've told you what I hate,
I'll only stop to say,

Perhaps I'll tell you what I love
Upon some other day.

WHAT I LOVE.

I love to see a little girl

Rise with the lark so bright;

Bathe, comb, and dress with cheerful face,
Then thank the God of light.

And when she comes to meet mamma,
So fresh and neat and clean,

And asks a kiss from dear papa

With such a modest mien,

Songs

That all who see her gentle look
And pretty actions too,

Will feel that she's a darling child-
Kind, honest, loving, true.

These are the things I so much like;
And now, who'll try to be

The meek and modest little girl
Which you before you see?

ROBIN REDBREAST'S SECRET.

I'm little Robin Redbreast, sir,

My nest is in the tree;

If you look up in yonder elm,

My pleasant home you'll see.
We made it very soft and nice—-
My pretty mate and I—

And all the time we worked at it,

We sang most merrily.

The green leaves shade our lovely home

From the hot scorching sun;

So many birds live in the tree,

We do not want for fun.

The light breeze gently rocks our nest,

And hushes us to sleep;

We're up betimes to sing our song,
And the first daylight greet.

12