TH

SEVEN TIMES ONE.

HERE'S no dew left on the daisies and clover,
There's no rain left in heaven;

I've said 66
my seven times" over and over,

Seven times one are seven.

I am old, so old, I can write a letter;
My birthday lessons are done;

The lambs play always, they know no better;
They are only one times one.

O moon! in the night I have seen you sailing

And shining so round and low;

You were bright! ah bright! but your light is failing-· You are nothing now but a bow.

You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven
That God has hidden your face?

I hope if you have you will soon be forgiven,
And shine again in your place.

O velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow,
You've powdered your legs with gold!
O brave marsh marybuds, rich and yellow,
Give me your money to hold!

O columbine, open your folded wrapper
Where two twin turtle-doves dwell!
O cuckoopint, toll me the purple clapper
That hangs in your clear green bell!

And show me your nest with the young ones in it; I will not steal them away;

I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet

I am seven times one to-day.

-Jean Ingelow

TH

THE LILAC.

HE sun shone warm, and the lilac said, "I must hurry and get my table spread, For if I am slow, and dinner late,

My friends, the bees, will have to wait."

So delicate lavender glass she brought
And the daintiest china ever bought,
Purple tinted, and all complete;

And she filled each cup with honey sweet.

"Dinner is ready!" the spring wind cried;
And from hive and hiding far and wide,
While the lilac laughed to see them come,
The little gray-jacketed bees came hum-m!

They sipped the sirup from every cell,
They nibbled at taffy and caramel;

Then, without being asked, they all buzzed, "We
Will be very happy to stay to tea."

A

THE CHICKEN'S MISTAKE.

LITTLE downy chicken one day
Asked leave to go on the water,

Where she saw a duck with her brood at play,
Swimming and splashing about her.

Indeed, she began to peep and cry,

When her mother wouldn't let her:
"If ducks can swim there, why can't I;
Are they any bigger or better?

Then the old hen answered, "Listen to me,
And hush your foolish talking;

Just look at your feet and you will see
They were only made for walking."

But chicky wistfully eyed the brook,
And didn't half believe her,

For she seemed to say by a knowing look,
"Such stories couldn't deceive her."

And as her mother was scratching the ground,
She muttered lower and lower,

"I know I can go there and not get drowned,
And so I think I'll show her."

Then she made a plunge where the stream was deep,

And saw too late her blunder:

For she hadn't hardly time to peep

Till her foolish head went under.

And now I hope her fate will show

The child, my story reading,

That those who are older sometimes know

What you will do well in heeding.

That each content in his place should dwell,

And envy not his brother;

And any part that is acted well

Is just as good as another.

For we all have our proper sphere below,
And this is a truth worth knowing:
You will come to grief if you try to go
Where you never were made for going.

- Phœbe Cary.

'TWA

ROVER IN CHURCH.

WAS a Sunday morning in early May,
A beautiful, sunny, quiet day,

And all the village, old and young,

Had trooped to church when the church bells rung; The windows were open and breezes sweet Fluttered the hymn books from seat to seat;

Even the birds in the pale-leaved birch

Sang as softly as if in church.

Right in the midst of the minister's prayer

There came a knock at the outer door.

"Who's there, I wonder!" the sexton thought
As his careful ear the tapping caught.

Rap
rap, rap— rap, a louder sound
The boy on the back seat turned around.
What could it mean? for never before
Had any tapped at the old church door.

Again the tapping, and now 'tis loud;

The minister paused- tho' his head was bowed.

Rap-pi-ty-rap! This will never do,
The girls are peeping and laughing too,

So the sexton tripped over the creaking floor,
Lifted the latch and opened the door;
In there trotted, as big as a bear,
A great black dog; with a solemn air,

Right up the center aisle he pattered
People might laugh, it little mattered.
Straight he went to a little maid,
Who blushed and hid as though afraid,
And there sat down as if to say,
"I'm sorry I was late to-day.

But better late than never, you know;
Beside I waited an hour or so,

"And couldn't get them to open the door,
Tho' I banged my tail, and knocked the floor.
Now, little mistress, I'm going to stay
And hear what the minister has to say."
The poor little girl hid her face and cried,
But the big dog nestled close to her side
And kissed her, dog fashion, tenderly,
Wondering what the matter could be!

The dog being large, and the sexton small,
He sat through the sermon and heard it all,
As solemn and wise as any one there,
With a very dignified scholarly air,

And, instead of scolding, the minister said,
As he laid his hand on the sweet child's head
After the service, "I never knew

Two better listeners than Rover and you."

- Selected.