For the wind had its blustering song begun,'Twas the twenty-first morning of March.

The wind blew stronger-the house-top vane
Loud creaked, and the doors did clatter,
The yard-dog howled o'er his rattling chain,
For he wondered what could be the matter.

The elms and the oaks all roared-the birds
In affright left their favourite tree:

How proud was Frank! and how proud were his words

"Ho! this is the morning for me!"

He called to his playmate with joy and delight, Bade adieu to his father and mother;

His playmate caught hold of one end of the kite, And Frank he caught hold of the other.

Its string was so long it might reach to the sky, And they bore the great kite to the hill:— "Now!-now!" exclaimed Frank—" let her fly!— let her fly!"

"I will!” cried his playmate, "I will!”

Away went the kite, like a bird on the wing—
Up! up! she soared higher still;

And Frank felt the tightening pull of the string, As he stood on the brow of the hill.

On came the storm-blast, strong and loud,
And the kite mounted higher so fleet,
To quit his firm hold Frank was far too proud,
Though she lifted him off his feet.

Away went the kite, o'er hedge and o'er tree,
And away went the boy, too bold;

And now, though he longed on the fair earth to be,

Yet he dared not abandon his hold.

Now over the river, that flowed through the vale, The kite hovered the space of a minute;

And little Frank looked, as he hung from its tail, Like a gull that could see no fun in it.

The kite, as in scorn, her white wings flapped,
While her sides to the blast did quiver;
Louder it blew, and the long string snapped;
And Frank-tumbled into the river!

In confusion and shame he crawled up the high bank,

And he looked like a half-drowned rat;

And he heard a gruff voice-"Ho! ho! gallant

Frank!

What a notable feat you've been at!"

His uncle was there, and his finger of scorn
He pointed at Frank, as ashamed

He stood hanging his head, with a visage forlorn,
Like an imp of his monkey-tricks tamed.

"Frank! Frank!" cried his uncle, "thy folly and pride

Have exposed thee to this degradation:

What an ape you must be to presume thus to ride, So high, Sir, above your right station!

“Remember that he who attempts to perform What his strength and his skill cannot master May meet with a check in some turbulent storm, Which may end in a wretched disaster;

"And that he who pretends to be wondrously wise Above others-misled by ambition—

May find, when he thinks he must certainly rise, That he'll fall in no pleasant condition!"

GRANDPAPA'S BALL.

"WELL, my dear girls," said Mrs. Norton, as she entered the room, "I have very pleasant news for you'; grandpapa gives a little dance on Thursday, and you are all invited." "O! how very

delightful it will be! how kind of grandpapa!" cried the children, all speaking together; "how we shall enjoy it!" "Mama," said Louisa, the eldest, "may I have a yellow frock spangled like Charlotte Dawson's, and a wreath of flowers ?" "I hope I shall not tear my frock, from the top to the bottom, as I did at Aunt Davis's, nor lose my gloves," cried Emma. "I suppose there will be plenty of nice cakes, and sweet tarts, and such things," said Caroline. These little girls were the only children of Mrs. Norton, who devoted her whole time to their instruction; and though in general very good and obedient, yet they had each those predominant faults of which, if my young readers have not become aware from the preceding dialogue, I will now inform them.

Louisa was about eleven years old, and, being a clever child, was too apt to think more of her attainments and knowledge than was proper for a little

girl, or, indeed, than they justly deserved, besides being very fond of dressing herself in a style only becoming those much older. Emma was a year younger than Louisa, and the most careless little thing in the world; gloves, shoes, bonnet strings, pencils, books, were constantly lost; and every day a fresh rent in her clothes betrayed her heedlessness. Caroline was just nine-a greedy and selfish child-never contented but when she was eating cakes, sugar-plums, and the like, which she always did in private.

The day of the ball at length arrived. Mrs. Norton dined with her father, and the children were to come in the evening.— "I shall wear these flowers," said Louisa; "Mama did not say any thing about them, though she would not let me have a spangled dress: I think they will look very well in my hair; what do you think, Emma?" "I don't know," returned Emma, who was busy routing in a drawer for a stocking. "Caroline, what are you about?" exclaimed Louisa; "I declare you have dirtied my satin sash: what have you got in your mouth, you little tiresome thing ?" "Only a bull's eye, sister," said Caroline, very quietly. "Oh! I cannot find my shoes any where," cried Emma; pray, Martha, come and