88

The Birthday Letter.

SEED-TIME AND HARVEST.

E

XAMPLE draws where precept fails,
So doth the proverb speak;

And oft the power of truth prevails

Through means despised and weak.
What though obscure, and young, and poor?
Your service you may find;

There's work for all, both great and small,

Bring but an earnest mind.

The Band of Hope's a little seed,

A simple ear of corn:

Yet it shall grow on vale and mead,

And hill and vale adorn.

Say not 'tis small and needs must fail
Before the men of might;

It cannot fail, it shall prevail,
For God defends the right.

THE BIRTHDAY LETTER.

J. H. T.

To-Nnd a curious sight met my eyes,

10-NIGHT I looked in at my study,

For there at my desk was sweet Addie,
With bearing so quaint and so wise
As she sat in the midst of my papers-
The typical authoress there-
With ink on her clothes and her fingers,
Nor lacking the wild-flowing hair.

To dear cousin Harry she's writing-
Our three-year-old darling to-day-
And that's a most wonderful effort,
Original all, in its way.

The page is half covered; she pauses,

As if gravely thinking the while,

And asks "What's the day of the month, please?"

With never the shade of a smile.

Then down goes the date in the middle,

With many a splutter and splash;

News follows in rapi succession,

And duly the signature's dash.

Reflections in Westminster Abbey.

She's weary, the dear little darling!

The paper has slipped from her hand,
The sweet head has dropped like a lily,
And she's roaming a bloom-lighted land.
Shall the wee boy interpret this letter?
Ah, who such a task ever had?
Those rambling and odd hieroglyphics,
Would drive e'en a Champollion mad.
The pen must have acted unruly,

For there is the mark of a tear ;-
And my thoughts wander off in sad dreaming
While I gaze on the fair sleeper here.

I think of a letter I'm writing

For the dear blessed Master to see-
Of its words whose mysterious meaning
Only He can decipher for me.

Sad blistering tears will deface it,

Erasures and blots meet His eyes;

But oh! He will tenderly read it

When my birthday shall dawn in the skies.

89

REFLECTIONS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

WHEN

ADDISON.

WHEN I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow. When I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance togeth. r.

90

The Cherubs' Visit to Earth.

THE BUSY THREE.

G

UARD, my child, thy tongue,
That it speak no wrong;
Let no evil word pass o'er it;
Set the watch of truth before it,
That it do no wrong.

Guard, my child, thy tongue.

Guard, my child, thine eyes;
Prying is not wise;

Let them look on what is right;
From all evil turn their sight;
Prying is not wise.

Guard, my child, thine eyes!

Guard, my child, thine ear!
Wicked words will sear;
Let no evil words come in
That may cause the soul to sin.
Wicked words will sear.
Guard, my child, thine ear!

Ear, and eye, and tongue,
Guard while thou art young;
For, alas! these busy three
Can unruly members be.
Guard while thou art young,
Ears, and eyes, and tongue!

Children's Prize.

THE CHERUBS' VISIT TO EARTH.

CAMPBELL.

Toplightning's locomotive powers

IWO spirits reached this world of ours;

Were slow to their agility:

In broad daylight they moved incog.,
Enjoying, without mist or fog,
Entire invisibility.

The one, a simple cherub lad,
Much interest in our planet had,
Its face was so romantic;

He couldn't persuade himself that man
Was such as heavenly rumours ran,
A being base and frantic.

The Cherubs' Visit to Earth.

The elder spirit, wise and cool,

Brought down the youth as to a school;
But strictly on condition,
Whatever they should see or hear,
With mortals not to interfere;

'Twas not in their commission.

They reached a sovereign city proud,
Whose emperor prayed to God aloud,
With all his people kneeling,
And priests performed religious rites:
"Come," said the younger of the sprites,
"This shows a pious feeling:

Aren't these a decent, godly race?"

"The dirtiest thieves on Nature's face!"

"But hark what cheers they're giving Their emperor !-And is he a thief?"

"Aye, and a cut-throat, too;-in brief, The greatest scoundrel living!"

"But say, what were they praying for, This people and their emperor?

"Why, but for God's assistance
To help their army, late sent out;
And what that army is about,
You'll see at no great distance."

On wings outspeeding mail or post,
Our sprites o'ertook the imperial host,
In massacres it wallowed;

A noble nation met its hordes,
But broken fell their cause and swords,
Unfortunate, though hallowed.

They saw a late bombarded town,
Its streets still warm with blood ran down;
Still smoked each burning rafter.

And hideously, 'midst rape and sack,
The murderer's laughter answered back
His prey's convulsive laughter.

They saw the captives eye the dead,
With envy of his gory bed,-

Death's quick reward of bravery:

91

92

A Hard Drinker.

They heard the clank of chains, and then
Saw thirty thousand bleeding men
Dragged manacled to slavery.

"Fie! fie!" the younger heavenly spark
Exclaimed: "We must have missed our mark,
And entered hell's own portal:

Earth can't be stained with crimes so black:
Nay, sure, we've got among a pack

Of fiends, and not of mortals!"

No," said the elder; "no such thing:
Fiends are not fools enough to wring

The necks of one another:

They know their interests too well:
Men fight but every devil in hell

Lives friendly with his brother."

66

A HARD DRINKER.

COLD

water! cold water!" Cried Michael McWharter, "I'm dry as a withered old stump, And I verily think

I this moment could drink

To the bottom of spring or pump!"

Bravely boasted indeed!"

Said Jonathan Meade;

"And now, if you dare, I'll try you ;
Just open your mouth,

So afflicted with drouth,

And I'll undertake to supply you!"

"Ah! that's what I like,"

Said unthinking Mike,

And stretched himself flat on the stones,

With his mouth open wide,

While he ravingly cried,

“Oh! this thirst is consuming my bones!"

Meade pumped with a will

Mike soon got his fill,

And was up on his feet with a jump,
And, shouting with pain,

Vowed never again

To venture to dry up the pump.