sows his corn, but he must wait till autumn before it will be ripe. Truly, spring is a pleasant time.

In summer the roses are in bloom, filling the garden with their rich perfume or sweet smell. The gardens and fields and hedges are full of flowers, and the cherries and strawberries are ripe. Out in the field the men are cutting down the grass, and tossing it about until it is quite dry. It is then called hay, and is kept for food for the cows and horses in the winter, when there is no green grass for them to eat.

Summer is the time for me;
Joy is then in all I see.

Then the roses are in bloom;
All the garden they perfume.

F

Then what joy it is to stray
Where the men are making hay.

Cherries, strawberries, and flowers
Fill the happy, happy hours.

In autumn, apples and pears, and plums and nuts, and many other fruits are ripe, and the golden corn is ripe too. Now is the time of harvest. The men in the fields are cutting down the corn, and tying it up in bundles. They afterwards carry it home, and by and by it will be ground into flour to make bread. The green leaves of the trees now change their colour, and become brown and yellow, and soon they wither and fall off. The pretty flowers have faded, and the birds no longer sing. But there is. one bird that now for the first time begins his song, and that is the dear little robin

redbreast, the bird that every one loves.

Now across the russet plain
Slowly moves the loaded wain.
Greet the reapers as they come-
Happy, happy harvest-home!

See the golden grain appear;
See the produce of the year.
Greet the reapers as they come
Happy, happy harvest-home!

Children, join the joyful ring;
Young and old, come forth and sing;
Greet the reapers as they come-
Happy, happy harvest-home!

WINTER.

win'ter cov'ered

froz'en win' dow chil'dren

of'ten show'ers rob'in

In winter there are no leaves on the trees. The ground is often covered with snow and frost, and there are showers of rain and sleet. When the ponds and lakes are frozen over, then is the time to slide and skate on the

ice, and fine fun it is. The robin sings his song, but sometimes he cannot get food, and he comes to our windows for crumbs.

The north wind doth blow, and we shall have snow;

And what will the robin do then, poor thing?

He will sit in a barn, and keep himself

warm,

And hide his head under his wing, poor

thing.

The north wind doth blow, we soon shall have snow;

What, then, will the honey-bee do, poor thing?

In his hive he will stay till the cold's gone away,

And then he'll come out in the spring, poor thing.

The north wind doth blow, and we shall have snow;

And what will the children do then, poor things?

When lessons are done, they will slide, skate, and run,

And play till they make themselves warm, poor things.