I have got a doll that Came from Paris too; It can walk and talk as Still, till now, there sat one Simple as a snowdrop, Without flounce or curl. Modest as a primrose, Soft, plain hair brushed back, Swift she glanced around with Bright and grave the look that To entertain the party She must do her share. As if God had sent her Stood a minute, thinking, With crossed hands, How she best might meet the Grave and sweet the purpose Gone to heaven!" On the little party Dropped a spell; All the little flounces Rustled where they fell; But the modest maiden In her mourning gown, Quick my heart besought her, "Happy little maiden, Give, oh, give to me To speak a large word in a Little place." Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward. THE LITTLE ORATOR. (Written for Ed. Everett, and recited by him in childhood.) PRAY, how should I, a little lad, In speaking make a figure? But since you wish to hear my part, I'll strive for praise, with all my heart, I'll tell a tale, how Farmer John Said Neighbor Joe to Farmer John, To spend such time and care upon Said Farmer John to Neighbor Joe, The moral you can well espy, To keep the tale from spoiling; The little colt, you think, is I,I know it by your smiling. And now, my friends, please to excuse And so I'll make my manners. Thaddeus M. Harris. THE LITTLE LIGHT. THE light shone dim in the headland, And the snow and the piercing winter sleet "God pity the men on the sea to-night!" And we shuddered as we heard afar My husband came in, in his fishing coat And he said, "There'll lots of ships go down On the headland rocks to-night." Let the lamp burn all night, mother," ""Tis but a little light, but still It might save drowning men." "Oh, nonsense!" cried her father (he Was tired and cross that night), "The headland lighthouse is enough." And he put out the light. That night, on the rocks below us, But one was saved from the ghastly wreck, If they'd only 'a left that light all night Then little Mary sobbed aloud, Her father blushed for shame; ""Twas our light that you saw," he said, "And I'm the one to blame." "Twas a little light-how small a thing!And trifling was its cost, Yet for want of it a ship went down, And a hundred souls were lost. THE WISH OF THE FLOWERS. THE flowers, one day, amid the scented air, A saucy Rosebud, wooed of sunlit beam, |