consternation, or fling them off with horror and loathing.

Now to me there is no study half so delightful as that of these little creatures, with hearts fresh from the gardens of the sky, in their first and fairest and most unintentional disclosures, while they are indeed a mystery, - a fragrant, luminous, and beautiful mystery!

Then why not pursue the study for yourself ? The subjects are always before you. No books are needed, no costly drawings, no lectures, neither transparencies, nor illustrations. Your specimens are all about you. They come and go at your bidding. They are not to be hunted for along the edge of the precipice, on the borders of the wilderness, in the desert; nor by the seashore. They abound, not in the uninhabited or unvisited place, but in your very dwelling-houses, about the steps of your doors, in every street of every village, in every green field, and every crowded thoroughfare.

JOHN NEAL.

2. A CHILD TIRED OF PLAY.

Tired of play! Tired of play!
What hast thou done this livelong day?
The birds are silent, and so is the bee;
The sun is creeping up steeple and tree;

The doves have flown to the sheltering eaves, And the nests are dark with the drooping leaves; Twilight gathers, and day is done —

How hast thou spent it, restless one?

Playing? But what hast thou done beside
To tell thy mother at eventide ?

What promise of morn is left unbroken?
What kind word to thy playmate spoken?
Whom hast thou pitied, and whom forgiven?
How with thy faults has duty striven?
What hast thou learn'd by field and hill,
By greenwood path, and by singing rill?

There will come an eve to a longer day,
That will find thee tired-but not of play!
And thou wilt lean, as thou leanest now,
With drooping limbs and aching brow,
And wish the shadows would faster creep,
And long to go to thy quiet sleep.
Well were it then if thine aching brow
Were as free from sin and shame as now!
Well for thee if thy lip could tell
A tale like this, of a day spent well.

If thine open hand hath relieved distress
If thy pity had sprung to wretchedness-
If thou hast forgiven the sore offence,
And humbled thy heart with penitence

If Nature's voices have spoken to thee
With her holy meanings eloquently-
If every creature hath won thy love,
From the creeping worm to the brooding dove-
If never a sad, low spoken word

Hath plead with thy human heart unheard
Then, when the night steals on, as now,
It will bring relief to thine aching brow;
And, with joy and peace at the thought of rest,
Thou wilt sink to sleep on thy mother's breast.

-N. P. WILLIS.

3. CHILDREN'S PRATTLE.

At a rich merchant's house, there was a children's party; and the children of rich and great people were there. The merchant was a learned man; for his father had sent him to college, and he had passed his examination. His father had been a cattle dealer, but always honest and industrious; so that he had made money, and his son the merchant had managed to increase his store.

Clever as he was, he had also a heart; but there was less said of his heart than of his money. All descriptions of people visited at the merchant's house, well-born as well as intellectual, and some who possessed neither of these recommendations.

Now it was a children's party; and there was

children's prattle, which always is spoken freely from the heart. Among them was a beautiful little girl, who was terribly proud; but this had been taught her by the servants, and not by her parents, who were far too sensible people.

Her father was groom of the Chambers, which is a high office at court, and she knew it. "I am a child of the court," she said; now she might just as well have been a child of the cellar, for no one can help his birth; and then she told the other children that she was well-born, and said that no one who was not well-born could rise in the world. It was no use to read and be industrious, for if a person was not well-born he could never achieve anything.

"And those whose names end with 'sen,'" said she, "can never be anything at all. We must put our arms akimbo, and make the elbows quite pointed, so as to keep these 'sen' people at a great distance." And then she stuck out her pretty little arms, and made the elbows quite pointed, to show how it was to be done; and her little arms were very pretty, for she was a sweet-looking

child.

But the little daughter of the merchant became very angry at this speech, for her father's name was Petersen, and she knew that the name ended in "sen"; and therefore she said as proudly as she could, "But my papa can buy a hundred dollars'

If Nature's voices have spoken to thee
With her holy meanings eloquently
If every creature hath won thy love,

From the creeping worm to the brooding dove—
If never a sad, low spoken word

Hath plead with thy human heart unheard-
Then, when the night steals on, as now,

It will bring relief to thine aching brow;
And, with joy and peace at the thought of rest,
Thou wilt sink to sleep on thy mother's breast.

-N. P. WILLIS.

3. CHILDREN'S PRATTLE.

At a rich merchant's house, there was a children's party; and the children of rich and great people were there. The merchant was a learned man; for his father had sent him to college, and he had passed his examination. His father had been a cattle dealer, but always honest and industrious; so that he had made money, and his son the merchant had managed to increase his store.

Clever as he was, he had also a heart; but there was less said of his heart than of his money. All descriptions of people visited at the merchant's house, well-born as well as intellectual, and some who possessed neither of these recommendations.

Now it was a children's party; and there was