V.

THE IRIS.

DOMESTIC JOYS.

Its form six-sided, full of heaven's own light,
Has justly gained the name of rainbow bright;
For in a room, held 'gainst the solar rays,
It paints the wall with many-colored blaze;
And, where the crystal its reflections throws,
The heavenly bow in all its splendor glows.

THE IRIS.

As

TO HUSBANDS.

S a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from his place.

Ye husbands, dwell with your wives according to knowledge, giving honor unto the wife as unto the weaker vessel, and as being heirs together of the grace of life.

Rejoice with the wife of thy youth, and be thou satisfied always with her love; for she is thy companion and the wife of thy covenant.

The Scriptures.

TO BOTH HUSBAND AND WIFE.

ETTER is a dinner of herbs where love is,

BETTER

than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.

Better is a dry morsel, and quietness therewith, than a house full of sacrifices with strife.

The Scriptures..

L

CHILDREN.

O, children are a heritage of the Lord; and

the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man, so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.

The Scriptures.

THE BABIE.

NAE shoon to hide her tiny taes,

Nae stockings on her feet;

Her supple ankles white as snaw,
Or early blossoms sweet.

Her simple dress o' sprinkled pink;
Her double, dimpled chin;
Her puckered lips and baumy mou,
With na ane tooth within.

Her een, sae like her mither's een,
Twa gentle, liquid things:
Her face is like an angel's face:
We're glad she has nae wings!

She is the budding o' our luve,
A giftie God gied us:

We maun na love the gift owre weel,
'Twad be nae blessing thus.

We still wad lo'e the Giver mair,
And see him in the given;

And sae she'll lead us up to him,

Our babie straight from heaven.

Rankin.

DOMESTIC LOVE.

DOMESTIC love! not in proud palace-halls
Is often seen thy beauty to abide :

Thy dwelling is in lowly cottage-walls,
That in the thickets of the woodbine hide,
With hum of bees around, and from the side
Of woody hills some little bubbling spring,
Shining along through banks with harebells
dyed;

And many a bird to warble, on the wing,
When Morn her saffron robe o'er heaven and
́earth doth fling.

O love of loves! to thy white hand is given
Of earthly happiness the golden key!