The Heart to speak in vain essayed,

Nor could his purpose reach-
His will, nor voice, nor tongue obeyed,

His silence was his speech.

Mark thou their difference, child of earth!

While each performs his part,
Not all the Lip can speak is worth
The silence of the Heart.

John Quincy Adams.

WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, BABY. “WHERE did you come from, baby dear?”

“Out of the everywhere into the here."

“Where did you get your eyes so blue ?"

6 Out of the sky as I came through.'

“What makes the light in them sparkle and spin ?"

Some of the starry spikes left in.” “Where did you get that little tear ?”

“I found it waiting when I got here." “What makes your forehead so smooth and high ?”

" A soft hand stroked it as I went by.” • What makes your cheek like a warm white rose ?”

“Something better than any one knows."

" Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ?”

“ Three angels gave me at once a kiss."

"Where did you get that pearly ear ?"

“God spoke and it came out to hear.”

Where did you get those arms and hands ?” “ Love made itself into hooks and bands."

% Feet, whence did you come, you darling things ?”

“From the same body as the cherubs' wings.”

" How did they all just come to be

“God thought about me, and so I grew."

you ?”

* But how did you come to us, my dear ?" “ God thought about you, and so I am here."

George Macdonald,

AT THE PARTY.

HALF-A-DOZEN children

At our house!
Half-a-dozen children

Quiet as a mouse!
Quiet as a moonbeam-

You could hear a pin,-
Waiting for the party

To begin.

This is the poem of the air,

Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,

Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.

BEING A BOY.

ONE of the best things in the world to be is a boy; it requires no experience, though it needs some practice to be a good one. The disadvantage of the position is that he does not last long enough. It is soon over. Just as you get used to being a boy, you have to be something else, with a good deal more work to do and not half so much fun. And yet every boy is anxious to be a man, and is very uneasy with the restrictions that are put upon him as a boy. There are so many bright spots in the life of a farm boy that I sometimes think I should like to live the life over again. I should almost be willing to be a girl if it were not for the chores. There is a great comfort to a boy in the amount of work he can get rid of doing. It is sometimes astonishing how slow he can go on an errand. Perhaps he couldn't explain, himself, why, when he is sent to the neighbor's after yeast, he stops to stone the frogs. He is not exactly

31

cruel, but he wants to see if he can hit 'em. It is
a curious fact about boys, that two will be a great
deal slower in doing anything than one. Bovs
have a great power of helping each other do poti-
ing. But say what you will about the general 1st
fulness of boys, a farm without a boy would very
soon come to grief. He is always in demand. In
the first place, be is to do all the errands, go to
the store, the post-office, and to carry al 20-le of
messages. He would like to have ai niany jest
a wheel has spokes, and rotate about il 1! sanat
way. This he sometimes tries to an, ali miss
who have seen him “trruing cart-watir
che side of the road hate et pipOsec 11* #a: ar:uu:
himself and idling his time. Et Waté OLI 1** 11
to invent a new mode of LouLOTIOL. E **
could economize lie lesse auc ut nik erruna ar
greater dispatch. Lean-tor 1 0 O W Diesel
of getting over the prouui uuchi. E lå i les
ural genius for combines pieds sri s. P***,

C'Hare Deir lipo

WY NEIGHBOR'S BABY ACROSS in the map 23"IT

inme of sati. 2!. I see, 'Death its fuel

face;

Such a flood of flounces

Oh, dear me!
Such a surge of sashes-

Like a silken sea.
Little eyes demurely

Cast upon the ground,
Little airs and graces

All around.
High time for that party

To begin!
To sit so any longer

Were a sort of sin;
As if you weren't acquainted

With society.
What a thing to tell of

That would be !
Up spoke a little lady

Aged five: “I've tumbled up my over-dress,

Sure as I'm alive!
My dress came from Paris-

We sent to Worth for it;
Mother says she calls it

Such a fit!”
Quick there piped another

Little voice:
“I didn't send for dresses,

Though I had my choice;