ONCE there was a little boy,

With curly hair and pleasant eye; A boy who always spoke the truth, And never, never told a lie.

And when he trotted off to school
The children all about would cry,
"There goes the curly-headed boy,
The boy who never tells a lie."

And everybody loved him so,

Because he always told the truth,

That every day, as he grew up,

'Twas said, "There goes the honest youth!"

And when the people that stood near
Would turn to ask the reason why,
The answer would be always this:
"Because he never tells a lie."

HYMNS AND RHYMES.

OLD PUSS.

DON'T hurt the poor

old cat,

There can be no fun in that;
And it would be cruel too-
She never tried to injure you.

She, for years, has kept the house
Free from thievish rat and mouse;
Puss has always faithful been,
And has kept herself so clean.

True, she now is getting old,
Though she once was strong and bold;
At her prey she cannot leap,

And, if caught, can scarcely keep.

Poor old puss! 'Twould be a shame

Thee for uselessness to blame,
When thou canst not active be-

Useless through infirmity.

HYMNS AND RHYMES.

With her eyes so sparkling bright,

And her skin so lily white,

Lips and cheeks of rosy light?

Tell you what,

She is just the sweetest baby

In the lot.

Ah! she is our only darling,

And to me,

All her little ways are witty;

And when she sings her little ditty Every word is just as pretty

As can be ;

Not another in the city

Sweet as she.

You don't think so-never saw her;
Wish you could

See her with her playthings clattering,
Hear her little tongue a-chattering,
Little dancing feet come pattering,—
Think you would

Love her just as well as I do,
If you could!

Every grandma's only darling,

I suppose,

Is as sweet and bright a blossom,

Is a treasure to her bosom,

Is as cheering and endearing,

As my rose;

Heavenly Father, spare them to us

Till life's close.

SONGS FOR MY CHILDREN.

GET up, little sister, the morning is bright,
And the birds are all singing to welcome the light;
The buds are all opening-the dew's on the flower;
If you shake but a branch, see! there falls quite a
shower.

By the side of their mothers, look! under the trees, How the young lambs are skipping about as they please;

And by all those rings on the water I know

The fishes are merrily swimming below.