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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11432 ***
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through the Florida
+      Board of Education, Division of Colleges and Universities,
+      PALMM Project, 2001. (Preservation and Access for American and
+      British Children's Literature, 1850-1869.) See
+      http://purl.fcla.edu/fcla/dl/UF00001878.jpg
+      or
+      http://purl.fcla.edu/fcla/dl/UF00001878.pdf
+
+
+
+
+
+THE YOUTH'S CORONAL
+
+BY HANNAH FLAGG GOULD
+
+Author of "Poems," etc., etc.
+
+1851
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ Whate'er the good instruction may reveal,
+The head must _take_, before the heart can _feel_.
+THE MORALIZER.
+
+
+
+
+
+ADDRESS
+
+TO THE YOUTH OF MY COUNTRY.
+
+
+In preparing the following pages, my aim has been, to produce a book
+alike entertaining and instructive;--one which, in the reading, should
+afford an amusement to the mind, pleasant as the spring-blossoms on the
+tree; and, in its influences on the heart in after life, be like the
+good fruits that succeed and ripen, to refresh and nourish us, when the
+vernal season is over and gone, and the voices of the singing-birds are
+lost in the distance.
+
+Choosing an appropriate title for such a presentation, I have borrowed
+my idea from the words of the wise king of Israel:--"Hear the
+instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother; for
+they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head," &c., and other
+Scripture passages of similar figurative meaning; for, though often
+given in a sportive way, it is my design that no moral shall be
+conveyed in the volume, but such as a good and judicious parent would
+wish a child to imbibe.
+
+Accept, then, my young Friends, this new CORONAL of the little flowers
+of poesy which I have woven for you. When you shall have examined and
+scented it, and found no thorn to pierce--no juice or odor to poison you
+in its whole circle, wear it for the giver's sake; and enjoy it and
+profit by its healthful influences, for your own.
+
+Gladly would I feel assured that, in some future years,--when I shall
+have done with earthly flowers, and you will be engaged in the busy
+scenes and arduous duties of mature life,--the import of these leaves
+may from time to time arise to your memory, in all its dewy freshness,
+like the fragrance which the summer-breeze wafts after us, from the
+lilies and violets we have passed and left far behind us, in our morning
+rambles. Then, if not to-day, you will be convinced that I was--as now I
+am,
+
+Your true Friend,
+
+H. F. GOULD.
+
+Newburyport, Mass., August, 1850.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+The Sale of the Water-Lily
+
+The Humming-Bird's Anger
+
+The Butterfly's Dream
+
+The Boy and the Cricket
+
+Fanny Spy
+
+Sudden Elevation
+
+The Stricken Bird
+
+The Young Sportsman
+
+The Pebble and the Acorn
+
+The Grasshopper and the Ant
+
+The Rose-Bud of Autumn
+
+Frost, the Winter-Sprite
+
+Vivy Vain
+
+The Lost Kite
+
+The Summer-Morning Ramble
+
+The Shoemaker
+
+The Snow-Storm
+
+The Whirlwind
+
+The Disobedient Skater Boys
+
+Winter and Spring
+
+Tom Tar
+
+The Envious Lobster
+
+The Crocus' Soliloquy
+
+The Bee, Clover, and Thistle
+
+Poor Old Paul
+
+The Sea-Eagle's Fall
+
+The Two Thieves
+
+Jemmy String
+
+The Caterpillar
+
+The Mocking Bird
+
+The Silk-Worm's Will
+
+Dame Biddy
+
+Kit with the Rose
+
+The Captive Butterfly
+
+The Dissatisfied Angler Boy
+
+The Stove and Grate-Setter
+
+Song of the Bees
+
+Summer is Come
+
+The Morning-Glory
+
+The Old Cotter and his Cow
+
+The Speckled One
+
+The Blind Musician
+
+The Lame Horse
+
+The Mushroom's Soliloquy
+
+The Lost Nestlings
+
+The Bat's Flight by Daylight
+
+Idle Jack
+
+David and Goliath
+
+Escape of the Doves
+
+Edward and Charles
+
+The Mountain Minstrel
+
+The Veteran and the Child
+
+Captain Kidd
+
+The Dying Storm
+
+The Little Traveller
+
+
+
+
+=The Sale of the Water-Lily=
+
+And these would sometimes come, and cheer
+  The widow with a song,
+To let her feel a neighbor near,
+  And wing an hour along.
+
+A pond, supplied by hidden springs,
+  With lilies bordered round,
+Was found among the richest things,
+  That blessed the widow's ground.
+
+She had, besides, a gentle brook,
+  That wound the meadow through,
+Which from the pond its being took,
+  And had its treasures too.
+
+Her eldest orphan was a son;
+  For, children she had three;
+She called him, though a little one,
+  Her hope for days to be.
+
+And well he might be reckoned so;
+  If, from the tender shoot,
+We know the way the branch will grow;
+  Or, by the flower, the fruit.
+
+His tongue was true, his mind was bright;
+  His temper smooth and mild:
+He was--the parent's chief delight--
+  A good and pleasant child.
+
+He'd gather chips and sticks of wood
+  The winter fire to make;
+And help his mother dress their food,
+  Or tend the baking cake.
+
+In summer time he'd kindly lead
+  His little sisters out,
+To pick wild berries on the mead,
+  And fish the brook for trout.
+
+He stirred his thoughts for ways to earn
+  Some little gain; and hence,
+Contrived the silver pond to turn.
+  In part, to silver pence.
+
+He found the lilies blooming there
+  So spicy sweet to smell,
+And to the eye so pure and fair,
+  He plucked them up to sell.
+
+He could not to the market go:
+  He had too young a head,
+The distant city's ways to know;
+  The route he could not tread.
+
+But, when the coming coach-wheels rolled
+  To pass his humble cot,
+His bunch of lilies to be sold
+  Was ready on the spot.
+
+He'd stand beside the way, and hold
+  His treasures up to show,
+That looked like yellow stars of gold
+  Just set in leaves of snow.
+
+"O buy my lilies!" he would say;
+  "You'll find them new and sweet:
+So fresh from out the pond are they,
+  I haven't dried my feet!"
+
+And then he showed the dust that clung
+  Upon his garment's hem,
+Where late the water-drops had hung,
+  When he had gathered them.
+
+And while the carriage checked its pace,
+  To take the lilies in,
+His artless orphan tongue and face
+  Some bright return would win.
+
+For many a noble stranger's hand,
+  With open purse, was seen,
+To cast a coin upon the sand,
+  Or on the sloping green.
+
+And many a smiling lady threw
+  The child a silver piece;
+And thus, as fast as lilies grew,
+  He saw his wealth increase.
+
+While little more--and little more,
+  Was gathered by their sale,
+His widowed mother's frugal store
+  Would never wholly fail.
+
+For He, who made, and feeds the bird,
+  Her little children fed.
+He knew her trust: her cry he heard;
+  And answered it with bread.
+
+And thus, protected by the Power,
+  Who made the lily fair,
+Her orphans, like the meadow flower,
+  Grew up in beauty there.
+
+Her son, the good and prudent boy,
+  Who wisely thus began,
+Was long the aged widow's joy;
+  And lived an honored man.
+
+He had a ship, for which he chose
+  "The LILY" as a name,
+To keep in memory whence he rose,
+  And how his fortune came.'
+
+He had a lily carved, and set,
+  Her emblem, on her stem;
+And she was called, by all she met,
+  A beauteous ocean gem.
+
+She bore sweet spices, treasures bright;
+  And, on the waters wide,
+Her sails as lily-leaves were white:
+  Her name was well applied.
+
+Her feeling owner never spurned
+  The presence of the poor;
+And found that all he gave returned
+  In blessings rich and sure.
+
+The God who by the lily-pond
+  Had drawn his heart above,
+In after life preserved the bond
+  Of grateful, holy love.
+
+
+
+
+=The Humming-Bird's Anger=
+
+"Small as the humming-bird is, it has great courage and violent
+passions. If it find a flower that has been deprived of its honey, it
+will pluck it off, throw it on the ground, and sometimes tear it to
+pieces." BUFFON.
+
+On light little wings as the humming-birds fly,
+With plumes many-hued as the bow of the sky,
+Suspended in ether, they shine to the light
+As jewels of nature high-finished and bright.
+
+Their vision-like forms are so buoyant and small
+They hang o'er the flowers, as too airy to fall,
+Up-borne by their beautiful pinions, that seem
+Like glittering vapor, or parts of a dream.
+
+The humming-bird feeds upon honey; and so,
+Of course, 'tis a sweet little creature, you know.
+But sweet little creatures have sometimes, they say,
+A great deal that's bitter, or sour, to betray!
+
+And often the humming-bird's delicate breast
+Is found of a very high temper possessed.
+Such essence of anger within it is pent,
+'Twould burst did no safety-valve give it a vent.
+
+Displeased, it will seem a bright vial of wrath,
+Uncorked by its heat, the offender to scath;
+And, taking occasion to let off its ire,
+'Tis startling to witness how high it will fire.
+
+A humming-bird once o'er a trumpet-flower hung,
+And darted that sharp little member, the tongue,
+At once to the nectarine cell, for the sweet
+She felt at the bottom most certain to meet.
+
+But, finding some other light child of the air
+To rifle its store, had already been there;
+And no drop of honey for her to draw up,
+Her vengeance broke forth on the destitute cup.
+
+She flew in a passion, that heightened her power;
+And cuffing, and shaking the innocent flower,
+Its tender corolla in shred after shred
+She hastily stripped; then she snapped off its head.
+
+A delicate ruin, on earth as it lay,
+That bright little fury went, humming, away,
+With gossamer softness, and fair to the eye,
+Like some living brilliant, just dropped from the sky.
+
+And since, when that curious bird I behold
+Arrayed in rich colors, and dusted with gold,
+I cannot but think of the wrath and the spite
+She has in reserve, though they're now out of sight.
+
+Ye two-footed, beautiful, passionate things,
+If plumy or plumeless--without, or with wings,
+Beware, lest ye break, in some hazardous hour,
+Your vials of wrath, hot, or bitter, or sour!
+
+And would ye but know how at times ye do seem
+Transformed to bright furies, or frights in a dream,
+Go, stand at the glass--to the painter go sit,
+When anger is just at the height of its fit!
+
+
+
+
+=The Butterfly's Dream=
+
+A tulip, just opened, had offered to hold
+  A butterfly gaudy and gay;
+And rocked in his cradle of crimson and gold,
+  The careless young slumberer lay.
+
+For the butterfly slept;--as such thoughtless ones will,
+  At ease, and reclining on flowers;--
+If ever they study, 'tis how they may kill
+  The best of their mid-summer hours!
+
+And the butterfly dreamed, as is often the case
+  With _indolent_ lovers of change,
+Who, keeping the body at ease in its place,
+  Give fancy permission to range.
+
+He dreamed that he saw, what he could but despise,
+  The swarm from a neighboring hive;
+Which, having come out for their winter supplies,
+  Had made the whole garden alive.
+
+He looked with disgust, as the proud often do,
+  On the diligent movements of those,
+Who, keeping both present and future in view,
+  Improve every hour as it goes.
+
+As the brisk little alchymists passed to and fro,
+  With anger the butterfly swelled;
+And called them mechanics--a rabble too low
+  To come near the station he held.
+
+"Away from my presence!" said he, in his sleep,
+  "Ye humble plebeians! nor dare
+Come here with your colorless winglets to sweep
+  The king of this brilliant parterre!"
+
+He thought, at these words, that together they flew,
+  And, facing about, made a stand;
+And then, to a terrible army they grew,
+  And fenced him on every hand.
+
+Like hosts of huge giants, his numberless foes
+  Seemed spreading to measureless size:
+Their wings with a mighty expansion arose,
+  And stretched like a veil o'er the skies.
+
+Their eyes seemed like little volcanoes, for fire,--
+  Their hum, to a cannon-peal grown,--
+Farina to bullets was rolled in their ire,
+  And, he thought, hurled at him and his throne.
+
+He tried to cry quarter! his voice would not sound,
+  His head ached--his throne reeled and fell;
+His enemy cheered, as he came to the ground,
+  And cried, "King Papilio, farewell!"
+
+His fall chased the vision--the sleeper awoke,
+  The wonderful dream to expound;
+The lightning's bright flash from the thunder-cloud broke,
+  And hail-stones were rattling around.
+
+He'd slumbered so long, that now, over his head,
+  The tempest's artillery rolled;
+The tulip was shattered--the whirl-blast had fled,
+  And borne off its crimson and gold.
+
+'Tis said, for the fall and the pelting, combined
+  With suppressed ebullitions of pride.
+This vain son of summer no balsam could find,
+  But he crept under covert and died!
+
+
+
+
+=The Boy and the Cricket=
+
+At length I have thee! my brisk new-comer,
+Sounding thy lay to departing summer;
+And I'll take thee up from thy bed of grass,
+And carry thee home to a house of glass;
+Where thy slender limbs, and the faded green
+Of thy close-made coat, can all be seen.
+For I long to know if the cricket _sings_,
+Or _plays_ the tune with his gauzy wings;--
+To bring that shrill-toned pipe to light
+Which kept me awake so long last night,
+That I told the hours by the lazy clock,
+Till I heard the crow of the noisy cock;
+When, tossing and turning, at length I fell
+In a sleep so strange, that the dream I'll tell.
+
+Methought, on a flowery bank I lay,
+By a beautiful stream; and watched the play
+Of the sparkling wavelets, that fled so fast,
+I could not number them as they passed.
+But I marked the things which they carried by;
+And a neat little skiff first caught my eye.
+'Twas woven of reeds, and its sides were bound
+By a tender vine, that had clasped it round;
+And spreading within, had made it seem
+A basket of leaves, borne down the stream.
+And the skiff had neither a sail nor oar;
+But a bright little boy stood up, and bore,
+On his outstretched hands, a wreath so gay,
+It looked like a crown for the Queen of May.
+And while he was going, I heard him sing,
+"O seize the garland of passing _Spring!_"
+But I dared not reach, for the bank was steep;
+And he bore it away, to the far off deep!
+
+There came, then, a lady;--her eye was bright--
+She was young and fair, and her bark was light;
+Its mast was a living tree, that spread
+Its boughs for a sail, o'er the lady's head.
+And some of its fruits had just begun
+To flush, on the side that was next the sun;
+And some with the crimson streak were stained;
+While others their size had not yet gained.
+In passing she cried, "Oh! who can insure
+The fruits of _Summer_ to get mature?
+For, fast as the waters beneath me flowing,
+Beyond recall, I'm going! I'm going!"
+
+I turned my eye, and beheld another,
+That seemed as she might be Summer's mother.
+She looked more grave; while her cheek was tinged
+With a deeper brown; and her bark was fringed
+With the tasselled heads of the wheaten sheaves
+Along its sides; and the yellow leaves,
+That had covered the deck concealed a throng
+Of _Crickets!_--I knew by their choral song.
+And at _Autumn's_ feet lay the golden corn,
+While her hands were raised, to invert a horn
+That was filled with a sweet and mellow store,
+And the purple clusters were hanging o'er.
+She bade me seize on the fruit that should last
+When the harvest was gone, and Autumn had past.
+But, when I had paused to make the choice,
+I saw no bark! and I heard no voice!
+
+Then I looked on a sight that chilled my blood!
+'Twas a mass of ice, where an old man stood
+On his frozen float; while his shrivelled hand
+Had clenched, as a staff by which to stand,
+A whitened branch that the blast had broke
+From the lifeless trunk of an aged oak.
+The icicles hung from the naked limb,
+And the old man's eye was sunken and dim.
+But his scattering locks were silver bright,
+His beard with gathering frost was white;
+The tears congealed on his furrowed cheek,
+His garb was thin, and the winds were bleak.
+He faintly uttered, while drawing near,
+"_Winter_, the death of the short-lived year,
+Can yield thee nought, as I downward tend
+To the boundless sea, where the Seasons end!
+But I trust from others, who've gone before,
+Thou'st clothed thy form, and supplied thy store
+And now, what tidings am I to bear
+Of thee--for I shall be questioned there?"
+
+I asked my mother, who o'er me bent,
+What all this show of the Seasons meant?
+She said 'twas a picture of Life, I saw;
+And the useful moral myself must draw!
+
+I woke, and found that thy song was stilled,
+And the sun's bright beams my room had filled!
+But I think, my Cricket, I long shall keep
+In mind the dream of my morning sleep!
+
+
+
+
+=Fanny Spy=
+
+Lucy, Lucy, come away!
+  Never climb for things so high.
+Don't you know, the other day,
+  What fell out with Fanny Spy?
+
+Fanny spied, a loaf of cake,
+  Wisely set above her reach;
+Yet did Fanny think to make
+  In its tempting side a breach.
+
+When she thought the family
+  Out of sight and hearing too,
+Forth a polished table she
+  Quickly to the closet drew.
+
+First, she stepped upon a chair;
+  Then the table--then a shelf;
+Thinking she securely there
+  Might, unnoticed, help herself.
+
+Then she seized a heavy slice,
+  Leaving in the loaf a cleft
+Wider than a dozen mice,
+  Feasted there all night, had left.
+
+Stepping backward, Fanny slid
+  On the table's polished face:--
+Down she came, with dish and lid,
+  Silver--glass--and china vase!
+
+In, from every room they rushed,
+  Father--mother--servants--all,
+Thinking all the closet crushed,
+  By the racket and the fall.
+
+'Mid the uproar of the house,
+  Fanny, in her shame and fright,
+Wished herself indeed a mouse,
+  But to run and hide from sight.
+
+Yet was she to learn how vain,
+  Poor and worthless, is a wish.
+Wishing could not lull her pain,
+  Hide her shame, nor mend a dish.
+
+There she lay, but could not speak;
+  For a tooth had made a pass
+Through her lip; and to her cheek
+  Clung a piece of shivered glass.
+
+From her altered features gushed
+  Rolling tears, and streaming gore;
+While, untasted still, and crushed,
+  Lay her cake upon the floor.
+
+Then the doctor hurried in:
+  Fanny at his needle swooned,
+As he held her crimson chin,
+  And together stitched the wound.
+
+Now her face a scar must wear,
+  Ever till her dying day!
+Questioned how it happened there,
+  What can blushing Fanny say?
+
+
+
+
+=Sudden Elevation; or The Empaled Butterfly=
+
+"Ho!" said the Butterfly, "here am I,
+ Up in the air, who used to lie
+ Flat on the ground, for the passers by
+   To treat with utter neglect!
+ But none will suspect that I am the same;
+ With a bright, new coat, and a different name;
+The piece of nothingness whence I came
+   In me they'll never detect.
+
+"That horrible night in the chrysalis,
+ Which brought me at length to a day like this,
+ In a form of beauty--a state of bliss,
+   Was little enough to give
+ For freedom to range from bower to bower,
+ To flirt with the buds, and flatter the flower,
+ And bask in the sunbeams hour by hour,
+   The envy of all that live.
+
+"Why, this is a world of curious things,
+ Where those who crawl, and those that have wings,
+ Are ranked in the classes of beggars, and kings,
+   No matter how much the worth
+ May be on the side of those who creep,
+ Where the vain, the light, and the bold will sweep,
+ Others from notice, and proudly keep
+   Uppermost on the earth!
+
+"Many a one that has loathed the sight
+ Of the piteous worm, will take delight
+ In welcoming me, as I look so bright
+   In my new and beautiful dress.
+ But some I shall pass with a scornful glance,
+ Some, with an elegant _nonchalance_;
+ And others will woo me, till I advance
+   To give them a slight caress."
+
+"Ha, ha!" said the Pin, "you are just the one
+Through which I'm commissioned, at once, to run
+From back to breast, till, your fluttering done,
+  Your form may be fairly shown.
+And when my point shall have reached your heart,
+'T will be as a balm to the wounded part,
+To think how you're to be copied by art,
+  And your beauty will all be known!"
+
+
+
+
+=The Stricken Bird=
+
+Here's the last food your poor mother can bring!
+  Take it, my suffering brood.
+Oh! they have stricken me under the wing;
+  See, it is dripping with blood!
+
+Fair was the morn, and I wished them to rise,
+   Enjoying its beauties with me.
+The air was all fragrance--all splendor the skies,
+  While bright shone the earth and the sea.
+
+Little I thought, when so freely I went,
+  Employing my earliest breath,
+To wake them with song, it could be their intent
+  To pay me with arrows and death!
+
+Fear that my nestlings would feel them forgot,
+  Helped me a moment to fly;
+Else I had given up life on the spot,
+  Under my murderer's eye.
+
+Yet, I can never brood o'er you again,
+  Closing you under my breast!
+Its coldness would chill you; my blood would but stain
+  And spoil the warm down of your nest.
+
+Ere the night-coming, your mother will lie,
+  All motionless, under the tree;
+Where, deafened, and silent, I still shall be nigh,
+  While you will be moaning for me!
+
+
+
+
+=The Young Sportsman=
+
+Harry had a dog and gun;
+And he loved to set the one,
+Barking, out upon the run,
+  While he held the other,
+Often charged so heavily,
+'Twas a dangerous thing to be
+With so young a wight as he
+  Mindless of his mother.
+
+Earnestly she warned her child
+To forego a sport so wild;
+While he, turning, frowned or smiled,
+  And away would sidle.
+For, to give him short and long,
+Harry had a head so strong,
+In the right or in the wrong,
+  It was hard to bridle.
+
+On his gunning madly bent,
+Often in his clothes a rent
+Told the reckless way he went,
+  Over hedge and brambles.
+Homeward then would Harry slouch,
+With his gun and empty pouch,
+Looking like a scaramouch
+  Coming from his rambles.
+
+Sometimes when he scaled a wall,
+Headlong there to pitch and fall,
+Ratling stones, and gun and all.
+  Down together tumbled.
+Tray would bark to tell the news
+Of his master with a bruise,
+Hatless, and with grated shoes,
+  Lying flat and humbled!
+
+Where he saw the bushes stirred,
+Harry, sure of hare or bird,
+Drew,--and at a flash was heard
+  Noise like little thunder.
+When he ran his game to find,
+Disappointment 'mazed his mind;--
+Finding he'd but shot the wind,
+  Dumb he stood with wonder!
+
+Over muddy pool or bog,
+Not so nimble as his dog,
+When he walked the plank or log,
+  There his balance losing,
+Splash! he went--a rueful plight!
+If his face before was white,
+'Twas like morning turned to night,
+  Much against his choosing.
+
+Now, like many a hasty one,
+Whether quadruped or gun,
+Or a mother's wayward son
+  Given to disaster,
+Harry's gun was rather quick;
+And it had a naughty trick,--
+It would snap itself, and kick
+  Fiercely at its master.
+
+So, this snappish habit grew
+With a power for him to rue;
+Just as all bad habits do
+  Grow, as age increases.
+When, one day, with noise and smoke,
+Over-charged, the barrel broke,
+Harry's hand the mischief spoke--
+  It was blown to pieces!
+
+Tray came crouching round, and growled,--
+Saw the gore, and whined, and howled,
+While his owner groaned and scowled,
+  And the blood was running.
+With the horrors of his state,
+And with anguish desperate,
+Then poor Harry owned too late,
+  He was _sick of gunning_!
+
+While his mother bent to mourn
+As her froward son was borne,
+With his hand all burnt and torn,
+  Faint and pale, before her,
+Harry's pain must be endured,--
+And the wound--it might be cured;
+But, for fingers uninsured,
+  There was no restorer!
+
+
+
+
+=The Pebble and the Acorn=
+
+"I am a Pebble! I yield to none!"
+Were the swelling words of a tiny stone,
+"Nor time nor season can alter me;
+I am abiding, while ages flee.
+The pelting hail and the drizzling rain
+Have tried to soften me, long, in vain;
+And the dew has tenderly sought to melt,
+Or touch my heart; but it was not felt.
+There's none to tell you about my birth,
+For I am as old as the big, round earth.
+The children of men arise, and pass
+Out of the world, like blades of grass;
+And many foot that on me has trod
+Is gone from sight, and under the sod!
+I am a Pebble! but who art _thou_,
+Rattling along from the restless bough?"
+
+The Acorn was shocked at this rude salute,
+And lay for a moment abashed and mute:
+She never before had been so near
+This gravelly ball, the mundane sphere;
+And she felt for a time at loss to know
+How to answer a thing so coarse and low.
+But to give reproof of a nobler sort
+Than the angry look, or the keen retort,
+At length she said, in a gentle tone,
+"Since it has happened that I am thrown,
+From the lighter element where I grew,
+Down to another, so hard and new,
+And beside a personage so august,
+Abased, I'll cover my head with dust,
+And quick retire from the sight of one
+Whom time, nor season, nor storm, nor sun,
+Nor the gentle dew, nor the grinding heel
+Has ever subdued, or made to feel!"
+And soon in the earth she sank away
+From the cheerless spot where the Pebble lay.
+
+But 'twas not long ere the soil was broke
+By the jeering head of an infant oak!
+As it arose, and its branches spread,
+The Pebble looked up, and, wondering, said,
+"Ah, modest Acorn! never to tell
+What was enclosed in its simple shell;--
+That the pride of the forest was folded up
+In the narrow space of its little cup!--
+And meekly to sink in the darksome earth,
+Which proves that nothing could hide her worth!
+And O, how many will tread on me,
+To come and admire the beautiful tree,
+Whose head is towering towards the sky,
+Above such a worthless thing as I!
+Useless and vain, a cumberer here,
+Have I been idling from year to year.
+But never, from this, shall a vaunting word
+From the humbled Pebble again be heard,
+Till something without me or within
+Shall show the purpose for which I've been!"
+The Pebble could ne'er its vow forget,
+And it lies there wrapt in silence yet.
+
+
+
+
+=The Grasshopper and the Ant=
+
+"Ant, look at me!" a young grasshopper said,
+As nimbly he sprang from his green, summer-bed,
+"See how I'm going to skip over your head,
+  And could o'er a thousand like you!
+Ant, by your motion alone, I should judge
+That Nature ordained you a slave and a drudge,
+For ever and ever to keep on the trudge,
+  And always find something to do.
+
+"Oh! there is nothing like having our day--
+Taking our pleasure and ease while we may--
+Bathing ourselves in the bright, mellow ray
+  That comes from the warm, golden sun!
+Whilst I am up in the light and the air,
+You, a sad picture of labor and care,
+Still have some hard, heavy burden to bear,
+  And work that you never get done.
+
+"I have an exercise healthful and good,
+For tuning the nerves and digesting the food--
+Graceful gymnastics for stirring the blood
+  Without the _gross purpose of use_
+Ant, let me tell you 'tis not _a la mode_
+To plod like a pilgrim, and carry a load,
+Perverting the limbs that for grace were bestowed,
+  By such a plebeian abuse!
+
+"While the whole world with provisions is filled,
+Who would keep toiling and toiling, to build
+And lay in a store for himself, till he's killed
+  With work that another might do?
+Come! drop your budget, and just give a spring;
+Jump on a grass-blade, and balance and swing;
+Soon you'll be light as a gnat on the wing,
+  Gay as a grasshopper, too!"
+
+Ant trudged along, while the grasshopper sung,
+Minding her business and holding her tongue,
+Until she got home her own people among;
+  But these were her thoughts on the road.
+"What will become of that poor, idle one
+When the light sports of the summer are done?
+And, where is the covert to which he may run
+  To find a safe winter abode?
+
+"Oh! if I only could tell him how sweet
+Toil makes my rest and the morsel I eat,
+While hope gives a spur to my little black feet,
+  He'd never pity my lot!
+He'd never ask me my burden to drop,
+To join in his folly--to spring, and to hop;
+And thus make the ant and her labor to stop,
+  When time, I am certain, would not.
+
+"When the cold frost all the herbage has nipped,
+When the bare branches with ice-drops are tipped,
+Where will the grasshopper then be, that skipped
+  So careless and lightly to-day?
+Frozen to death! '_a sad picture_,' indeed,
+Of reckless indulgence and what must succeed,
+That all his gymnastics can't shelter or feed,
+  Or quicken his pulse into play!
+
+"I must prepare for a winter to come,
+I shall be glad of a home and a crumb,
+When my frail form out of doors would be numb,
+  And I in the snow-storm should die.
+Summer is lovely, but soon will be past.
+Summer has plenty not always to last.
+Summer's the time for the ant to make fast
+  Her stores for a future supply!"
+
+
+
+
+=The Rose-Bud of Autumn=
+
+Come out--pretty Rose-Bud,--my lone, timid one!
+Come forth from thy green leaves, and peep at the sun!
+For little he does, in these dull autumn hours,
+At height'ning of beauty, or laughing with flowers.
+
+His beams, on thy tender young cheek as he plays,
+Will give it a blush that no other could raise:
+Thy fine silken petals they'll softly unfold,
+Thy pure bosom filling with spices and gold!
+
+I would not instruct thee in coveting wealth;
+Yet beauty, we know, is the offspring of health;
+And health, the fair daughter of freedom! is bright
+From drinking the breezes, and feasting on light.
+
+Then, come, little gem, from thy covert look out;
+And see what the glad, golden sun is about!
+His shafts, do they strike thee, new charms will impart,
+Thy form making fairer, and richer, thy heart.
+
+Occasion, sweet Bud, is for thee and for me:
+This hour it may give what again ne'er shall be.
+O, let not the sunshine of life pass away,
+Nor touch both our eye and our heart with its ray!
+
+
+
+
+=Frost, the Winter-Sprite=
+
+The Frost looked forth on a still, clear night,
+And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;
+So through the valley, and over the height
+  I'll silently take my way.
+I will not go on like that blustering train,
+The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
+That make so much bustle and noise in vain.
+  But I'll be as busy as they!"
+
+He flew up, and powdered the mountain's crest;
+He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest
+With diamonds and pearls;--and over the breast
+  Of the quivering Lake he spread
+A bright coat of mail that it need not fear
+The glittering point of many a spear
+That he hung on its margin, far and near,
+  Where a rock was rearing its head.
+
+He went to the windows of those who slept,
+And over each pane, like a fairy crept;
+Wherever he breathed--wherever he stepped--
+  Most beautiful things were seen
+By morning's first light!--there flowers and trees,
+With bevies of birds, and swarms of bright bees;--
+There were cities--temples, and towers; and these,
+  All pictured in silvery sheen!
+
+But one thing he did that was hardly fair--
+He peeped in the cupboard, and, finding there
+That none had remembered for him to prepare,
+  "Now, just to set them a-thinking,
+I'll bite their rich basket of fruit," said he,
+"This burly old pitcher--I'll burst it in three!
+And the glass with the water they've left for me
+  Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking!"
+
+
+
+
+=Vivy Vain=
+
+Miss Vain was all given to dress--
+Too fond of gay clothing; and so,
+  She'd gad about town
+  Just to show a new gown,
+As a train-band their color to show.
+
+Her head being empty and light,
+Whene'er she obtained a new hat,
+  With pride in her air,
+  She'd go round, here and there,
+For all whom she knew to see that.
+
+Her folly was chiefly in this:
+More highly she valued fine looks,
+  Than virtue or truth,
+  Or devoting her youth
+To usefulness, friendship, or books.
+
+Her passion for show was unchecked;
+And therefore, it happened one day,
+  Arrayed in bright hues,
+  And with new hat and shoes,
+Miss Vain walked abroad for display.
+
+She took the most populous streets.
+To cause but aversion in those,
+  Who saw how she prinked,
+  And the bystanders winked.
+While the boys cried, "Halloo! there she goes!"
+
+It chanced, that, in passing on way,
+She came near a pool, and a green
+  With fence close and high;
+  And, as Vivy drew nigh,
+A donkey stood near it unseen.
+
+He put his mouth over its top,
+The moment she came by his place;
+  And gave a loud bray
+  In her ear, when, away
+She sprang, shrieked, and fell on her face.
+
+She thought she was swallowed alive,
+Awhile upon earth lying flat;
+  And the terrible sound
+  Seemed to furrow the ground
+She embraced in her fine gown and hat.
+
+She gathered herself up, and ran,
+Yet heeded not whither or whence,
+  To flee from the roar,
+  That continued to pour
+Behind her, from over the fence.
+
+In passing a slope near the pool,
+She slipped and rolled down to its brim;
+  The geese gave a shout,
+  And at length hissed her out
+Of the bounds, where they'd gathered to swim.
+
+In turning a corner, she met
+Abruptly, the horns of a cow
+  That mooed, while the cur,
+  At her heels, turned from her,
+And aimed at Miss Vain his "bow-wow."
+
+Then Vivy's bright ribbons and skirt,
+As she flew, flirted high on the wind;
+  The children at play,
+  Paused to see one so gay,
+And all in a flutter behind.
+
+A group of glad schoolboys came by:
+Said they, "So it seems, that to-day,
+  Miss Vain carries marks
+  At which the dog barks,
+And that make sober Long-Ears to bray."
+
+And when, all bedraggled and pale,
+Poor Vivy approached her own door,
+  She went, swift and straight
+  As a dart, through the gate,
+Abhorring the gay gear she wore.
+
+She sat down, and thought of the scene
+With humiliation and tears:
+  The words, and the noise
+  Of the brutes and the boys
+Were echoing still in her ears.
+
+She reasoned, and came at the cause,
+Resolving that cause to remove;
+  And thence, her desire
+  Was for modest attire,
+And her heart and her mind to improve.
+
+And soon, all who knew her before
+Remarked on the change and the gain
+  In mind, and in mien,
+  And in dress, that were seen
+In the once flashy Miss Vivy Vain.
+
+
+
+
+=The Lost Kite=
+
+"My kite! my kite! I've lost my kite!
+Oh! when I saw the steady flight,
+With which she gained her lofty height,
+How could I know, that letting go
+That naughty string, would bring so low
+My pretty, buoyant, darling kite,
+To pass for ever out of sight?
+
+"A purple cloud was sailing by,
+With silver fringes, o'er the sky;
+And then I thought, it seemed so nigh,
+I'd make my kite go up and light
+Upon its edge, so soft and bright;
+To see how noble, high and proud
+She'd look, while riding on a cloud!
+
+"As near her shining mark she drew
+I clapped my hands; the line slipped through
+My silly fingers; and she flew,
+Away! away! in airy play,
+Right over where the water lay!
+She veered and fluttered, swung and gave
+A plunge, then vanished with the wave!
+
+"I never more shall want to look
+On that false cloud, or babbling brook;
+Nor e'er to feel the breeze that took
+My dearest joy, to thus destroy
+The pastime of your happy boy.
+My kite! my kite! how sad to think
+She flew so high, so soon to sink!"
+
+"Be this," the mother said, and smiled,
+"A lesson to thee, simple child!
+And when by fancies vain and wild,
+As that which cost the kite that's lost,
+The busy brain again is crossed,
+Of shining vapor then beware,
+Nor trust thy joys to fickle air.
+
+"I have a darling treasure, too,
+That sometimes would, by slipping through
+My guardian hands, the way pursue,
+From which, more tight than thou thy kite,
+I hold my jewel, new and bright,
+Lest he should stray without a guide,
+To drown my hopes in sorrow's tide!"
+
+
+
+
+=A Summer-Morning Rumble=
+
+Oh! the happy Summer hours.
+With their butterflies and flowers,
+And the birds among the bowers
+    Sweetly singing;--
+With the spices from the trees,
+Vines, and lilies, while the bees
+Come floating on the breeze,
+    Honey bringing!
+
+All the East was rosy red,
+When we woke and left our bed;
+And to gather flowers we sped,
+    Gay and early.
+Every clover-top was wet,
+And the spider's silken net
+With a thousand dew-drops set,
+    Pure and pearly.
+
+With their modest eyes of blue
+Were the violets peeping through
+Tufts of grasses, where they grew,
+    Full of beauty,
+At the lamb in snowy white,
+O'er the meadow bounding light,
+And the crow just taking flight,
+    Grave and sooty.
+
+On our floral search intent,
+Still away, away we went,--
+Up and down the rugged bent,--
+    Through the wicket,--
+Where the rock with water drops,--
+Through the bushes and the copse,--
+Where the greenwood pathway stops
+    In the thicket.
+
+We heard the fountain gush,
+And the singing of the thrush;
+And we saw the squirrel's brush
+    In the hedges,
+As along his back 't was thrown,
+Like a glory of his own.
+While the sun behind it, shone
+    Through its edges.
+
+All the world appeared so fair,
+And so fresh and free the air,--
+Oh! it seemed that all the care
+    In creation
+Belonged to God alone;
+And that none beneath his throne,
+Need to murmur or to groan
+    At his station.
+
+Dear little brother Will!
+He has leaped the hedge and rill,--
+He has clambered up the hill,
+    Ere the beaming
+Of the rising sun, to sweep
+With its golden rays the steep,
+Till he's tired, and dropped asleep,
+    Sweetly dreaming.
+
+See, he threw aside his cap,
+And the roses from his lap,
+When his eyes were, for the nap,
+    Slowly closing:
+Wit his sunny curls outspread,
+On its fragrant mossy bed,
+Now his precious infant head
+    Is reposing.
+
+He is dreaming of his play--
+How he rose at break of day,
+And he frolicked all the way
+    On his ramble.
+And before his fancy's eye,
+He has still the butterfly
+Mocking him, where not so high
+    He could scramble.
+
+In his cheek the dimples dip,
+And a smile is on his lip,
+While his tender finger-tip
+    Seems as aiming
+At some wild and lovely thing
+That is out upon the wing,
+Which he longs to catch and bring
+    Home for taming.
+
+While he thus at rest is laid
+In the old oak's quiet shade,
+Let's cull our flowers to braid,
+    Or unite them
+In bunches trim and neat,
+That for every friend we meet,
+We may have a token sweet
+    To delight them.
+
+'Tis the very crowning art
+Of a happy, grateful heart
+To others to impart
+    Of its pleasure.
+Thus its joys can never cease,
+For it brings an inward peace,
+Like an every day increase
+    Of a treasure.
+
+
+
+
+=The Shoemaker=
+
+"Honor and shame from no condition rise.
+ Act well your part:--there all the honor lies."
+
+The shoemaker sat amid wax and leather,
+  With lapstone over his knee;
+Where, snug in his shop, he defied all weather,
+A-drawing his quarters and sole together:
+  A happy old man was he!
+
+This happy old man was so wise and knowing,
+  The worth of his time he knew.
+He bristled his ends, and he kept them going;
+And felt to each moment a stitch was owing,
+  Until he got round the shoe.
+
+Of every deed that his wax was sealing,
+  The closing was firm and fast.
+The prick of his steel never caused a feeling
+Of pain to the toe, and his skill in heeling
+  Was perfect, and true to the last!
+
+Whenever you gave him a foot to measure.
+  With gentle and skilful hand,
+He took its proportions, with looks of pleasure,
+As if you were giving the costliest treasure,
+  Or dubbing him lord of the land.
+
+And many a one did he save from getting
+  A fever, or cold or cough:
+For many a sole did he save from wetting,
+When, whether in water or snow 'twas setting,
+  His shoeing would keep them off
+
+And when he had done with his making and mending,
+  With hope and a peaceful breast,
+Resigning his awl, as his thread was ending,
+He slid from his bench, to the grave descending,
+  As high as a king to rest!
+
+
+
+
+=The Snow-Storm=
+
+It snows! it snows! from out the sky
+The feathered flakes, how fast they fly,
+Like little birds, that don't know why
+They're on the chase, from place to place,
+While neither can the other trace!
+It snows, it snows! a merry play
+Is o'er us, on this sombre day.
+
+As dancers in time's airy hall,
+That not a moment holds them all,
+While some keep up, and others fall,
+The atoms shift; then, thick and swift,
+They drive along to form the drift,
+That weaving up, so dazzling white,
+Is rising like a wall of light.
+
+But now the wind comes, whistling loud,
+To snatch and waft it, as a cloud,
+Or giant phantom in a shroud.
+It spreads,--it curls,--it mounts and whirls;
+At length a mighty wing unfurls;
+And then, away!--but where, none knows,
+Or ever will.--It snows! it snows!
+
+To-morrow will the storm be done;
+Then out will come the golden sun!
+And we shall, we shall see, upon the run
+Before his beams, in sparkling streams,
+What now a curtain o'er him seems.
+And thus, with life it ever goes;--
+'Tis shade and shine! It snows, it snows!
+
+
+
+
+=The Whirlwind=
+
+Whirlwind, Whirlwind, whither art thou hieing,
+  Snapping off the flowers young and fair;--
+Setting all the chaff and the withered leaves a-flying,--
+  Tossing up the dust in the air?
+
+"I," said the Whirlwind, "cannot stop for talking!
+  Give me up your cap, my little man;
+And the polished stick, that you will not need for walking.
+  While you run to catch them, if you can!
+
+"You, pretty maiden--none has time to tell her
+  I am coming, ere I shall be there.
+I will twirl her zephyr--snatch her light umbrella,
+  Seize her hat, and snarl her glossy hair!"
+
+On went the Whirlwind, showing many capers
+  One would hardly deem it meet to tell;--
+Dusting Judge and Parson--flirting gown and papers,--
+  Discomposing matron, beau and belle.
+
+"Whisk!" from behind came the long and sweeping feather,
+  Round the head of old Chanticleer:--
+Plumed and plumeless biped felt gust together,
+  In a way they wouldn't like to hear.
+
+Snug in his arbor sat a scholar, musing
+  Calmly o'er the philosophic page:
+"Flap!" went the leaves of the volume he was using,
+  Cutting short the lecture of the sage.
+
+"Hey!" said the bookworm, "this I think is taking
+  Rather too much liberty with me!
+Yet I'll not resent it; being bent on making
+  Use of every thing I hear and see.
+
+"Many, I know, will not their anger stifle,
+  When as little cause as this, they find
+To let it kindle up; but minding every trifle
+  Is profitless as quarrels with the wind.
+
+"Forth to his business when the Whirlwind sallies,
+  He is all alive to get it done;--
+He on his pathway never lags nor dallies;
+  But is ever up, and on the run.
+
+"Though ever whirling, never growing dizzy;
+  Motion gives him buoyancy and power.
+All who have known him own that he is busy,
+  Doing much in half a fleeting hour.
+
+"Oh! there is nothing--when our work's before us,--
+  Like _despatch;_ for, while our time is brief,
+Some sweeping blast may suddenly come o'er us,
+  Lose our place, and turn another leaf!
+
+"Whirlwind, Whirlwind, though you're but a flurry,
+  And so odd the business you pursue;--
+Though you come on, and are off, in such a hurry,
+  I have caught a hint; and now adieu!"
+
+
+
+
+=The Disobedient Skater Boys=
+
+Said William to George, "It is New-Year's day!
+And now for the pond and the merriest play!
+So, on with your cap; and away, away,
+  We'll off for a frolic and slide,
+Be quick--be quick, if you would not be chid
+For doing what father and mother forbid;
+And under your coat let the skates be hid;
+  Then over the ice we'll glide."
+
+They're up, and they're off; on their run-away feet
+They fasten the skates, when, away they fleet,
+Far over the pond, and beyond retreat,
+  Unconscious of danger near.
+But lo! the ice is beginning to bend--
+It cracks--it cracks--and their feet descend!
+To whom can they look as a helper--a friend?
+  Their faces are pale with fear.
+
+In their flight to the pond, they had caught the eye
+Of a neighboring peasant, who, lingering nigh,
+Aware of their danger, and hearing their cry,
+  Now hastens to give them aid.
+As home they are brought, all dripping and cold,
+To all who their piteous plight behold,
+The worst of the story is plainly told--
+  Their parents were disobeyed!
+
+
+
+
+=Winter and Spring=
+
+"Adieu!" Father Winter sadly said
+  To the world, when about withdrawing,
+With his old white wig half off his head,
+  And his icicle fingers thawing;--
+
+"Adieu! I'm going to the rocks and caves,
+  And must leave all here behind me;
+Or perhaps I shall sink in the Northern waves,
+  So deep that none can find me."
+
+"Good luck! good luck, to your hoary locks!"
+  Said the gay young Spring, advancing;
+"You may take your rest 'mid the caves and rocks,
+  While I o'er the earth am dancing.
+
+"But there is not a spot where you have trod.
+  You hard, old clumsy fellow,--
+Not a hill, nor a field, nor a single sod,
+  But I must make haste to mellow.
+
+"I then shall carpet them o'er with grass,
+  To look so bright and cheering,
+That none will regret having let you pass
+  Far out of sight and hearing.
+
+"The fountains that you locked up so tight,
+  When I shall give them a sunning,
+Will sparkle and play in my warmth and light,
+  And the streams set off to running.
+
+"I'll speak in the earth to the palsied root,
+  That under your reign was sleeping;
+I'll teach it the way in the dark to shoot,
+  And draw out the vine to creeping.
+
+"The boughs that you cased so close in ice,
+  It was chilling e'en to behold them,
+I'll deck all over with buds so nice;
+  My breath can alone unfold them.
+
+"And when all the trees are with blossoms drest,
+  The bird, with her song so merry,
+Will come to the branches to build her nest,
+  With a view to the future cherry.
+
+"The earth will show by her loveliness,
+  The wonders that I am doing;
+While the skies look down with a smile, to bless
+  The way that I'm pursuing!"
+
+Said Winter, "Then I would have you learn,
+  By me, my gay new-comer,
+To push off too, when it comes your turn,
+  And yield your place to Summer!"
+
+
+
+
+=Tom Tar=
+
+I'll tell you now about Tom Tar,
+  The sailor stout and bold,
+Who o'er the ocean roamed so far,
+  To countries new and old.
+
+Tom was a man of thousands! he
+  Would ne'er complain nor frown,
+Though high and low the wind and sea
+  Might toss him up and down.
+
+Amid the waters dark and deep,
+  He had the happy art,
+When all around was storm, to keep
+  Fair weather in his heart.
+
+Though winds were wild, and waves were rough,
+  He'd always cast about,
+And find within he'd calm enough
+  To stand the storms without.
+
+"For nought," said Tom, "is ever gained
+  By sighs for what we lack;
+Nor can it mend a vessel strained,
+  To let our temper crack.
+
+"And sure I am, the worst of storms,
+  That any man should dread,
+Is that which in the bosom forms,
+  And musters to the head."
+
+Serene, and ever self-possessed,
+  His mess-mates he would cheer,
+And often put their fears to rest,
+  When dangers gathered near.
+
+If on the rocks the ship was cast,
+  And surges swept the deck,
+Tom Tar was ever found the last
+  Who would forsake the wreck.
+
+And when his only hat and shoes
+  The waters plucked from him,
+Why, these, he felt, were small to lose,
+  Could he keep up and swim!
+
+Then through the billows, foam, and spray,
+  That rose on every hand,
+He'd, somehow, always find a way
+  Of getting safe to land.
+
+The secret was, the fear and love
+  Of Heaven had filled his soul:
+His trust was firm in One above,
+  Howe'er the seas might roll.
+
+And Tom had sailed to many a shore,
+  And many a wonder seen:
+The stories he could tell would more
+  Than fill a magazine.
+
+He'd seen mankind in every state,
+  Almost, that man can know;
+But envied not the rich and great,
+  Nor scorned the poor and low.
+
+The monarch in his sight had stood,
+  Superb, in glittering vest;
+The savage, too, that roams the wood,
+  In skins and feathers dressed.
+
+The tribes of many an isle he knew;
+  And beasts, and birds, and flowers,
+And fruits, of many a shape and hue,
+  In lands remote from ours.
+
+He'd seen the wide-winged albatros
+  Her breast in ocean lave;
+And bold sea-lions, playing, toss
+  Their heads above the wave.
+
+He'd seen the dolphin, while his back
+  Went flashing to the sun,
+A swarm of flying fish attack,
+  And swallow every one!
+
+The porpoise and the spouting whale
+  Had sported in his view;
+And hungry sharks pursued his sail,
+  As if they'd eat the crew.
+
+And ever, when Tom Tar got home,
+  The children, at their play,
+Were glad to have the Sailor come,
+  And greet them by the way.
+
+Then, oft, some curious stone, or shell,
+  The laughing girls and boys
+Would find, upon their aprons fell,
+  To put among their toys.
+
+"These pearly shells," said he, "I found
+  Where gloomy waters roar:
+These polished stones, so smooth and round,
+  Rough surges washed ashore.
+
+"Though small to us a pebble seems,
+  'Tis made and marked by One,
+Who gave the warmth, and lit the beams
+  Of yon great shining sun.
+
+"And when these pretty shells I find,
+  Along the ocean strand,
+Their beauteous finish brings to mind
+  Their Maker's perfect hand.
+
+"When on the wildest shore I'm thrown
+  And far from human eye,
+I think of him who made the stone,
+  And shell, and sea, and sky.
+
+"For he's my Friend and I am his!
+  Though strong and cold the blast,
+My safest guide I know he is
+  Where'er my lot is cast."
+
+When Tom passed on, the children said,
+  "These treasures from afar
+He brought us! Blessings on his head!
+  For he's a good Tom Tar!"
+
+
+
+
+=The Envious Lobster=
+
+A FABLE
+
+A Lobster from the water came,
+And saw another, just the same
+In form and size; but gayly clad
+In scarlet clothing; while she had
+No other clothing on her back
+Than her old suit of greenish black.
+
+"So ho!" she cried, "'tis very fine!
+Your dress was yesterday like mine;
+And in the mud below the sea,
+You lived, a crawling thing like me.
+But now, because you've come ashore,
+You've grown so proud, that what you wore--
+Your strong old suit of bottle-green,
+You think improper to be seen.
+
+"To tell the truth, I don't see why
+You should be better dressed than I.
+And I should like a suit of red
+As bright as yours, from feet to head.
+I think I'm quite as good as you,
+And might be clothed in scarlet too."
+
+"Will you be _boiled_" her owner said,
+"To be arrayed in glowing red?
+Come here, my discontented miss,
+And hear the scalding kettle hiss!
+Will you go in, and there be boiled,
+To have your dress, so old and soiled,
+Exchanged for one of scarlet hue?"
+"Yes," cried the Lobster, "that I'll do,
+And twice as much, if needs must be,
+To be as gayly clad as she."
+Then, in she made a fatal dive,
+And never more was seen alive!
+
+Now, if you ever chance to know,
+Of one as fond of dress and show
+As that vain Lobster, and withal
+As envious you'll perhaps recall
+To mind her folly, and the plight
+In which she reappeared to sight.
+
+She had obtained a bright array,
+But for it, thrown her life away!
+Her life and death were best untold,
+But for the moral they unfold!
+
+
+
+
+=The Crocus' Soliloquy=
+
+Down in my solitude, under the snow,
+  Where nothing cheering can reach me--
+Here, without light to see how I should grow,
+  I trust to nature to teach me.
+I'll not despair, nor be idle, nor frown;
+  Though locked in so gloomy a dwelling!
+My leaves shall shoot up, while my root's running down,
+  And the bud in my bosom is swelling.
+
+Soon as the frost will get off from my bed,
+  From this cold dungeon to free me,
+I will peer up, with my bright little head;
+  All will be joyful to see me!
+Then from my heart will young petals diverge,
+  Like rays of the sun from their focus;
+When I from the darkness of earth shall emerge,
+  All complete, as a beautiful CROCUS!
+
+Gayly arrayed in gold, crimson, and green,
+  When to their view I have risen;
+Will they not wonder how one so serene
+  Came from so dismal a prison?
+Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower
+  A wise little lesson may borrow:--
+If patient to-day through the dreariest hour,
+  We shall come out the brighter to-morrow!
+
+
+
+
+=The Bee, Clover, and Thistle=
+
+A bee from the hive one morning flew,
+  A tune to the daylight humming;
+And away she went o'er the sparkling dew,
+Where the grass was green, the violet blue,
+  And the gold of the sun was coming.
+
+And what first tempted the roving Bee,
+  Was a head of the crimson clover.
+"I've found a treasure betimes!" said she,
+"And perhaps a greater I might not see,
+  If I travelled the field all over.
+
+"My beautiful Clover, so round and red,
+  There is not a thing in twenty,
+That lifts this morning so sweet a head
+Above its leaves, and its earthy bed,
+  With so many horns of plenty!"
+
+The flow'rets were thick which the Clover crowned,
+  As the plumes in the helm of Hector;
+And each had a cell that was deep and round,
+Yet it would not impart, as the Bee soon found,
+  One drop of its precious nectar.
+
+She cast in her eye where the honey lay,
+  And her pipe she began to measure;
+But she saw at once it was clear as day,
+That it would not go down one half the way
+  To the place of the envied treasure.[1]
+
+Said she, in a pet, "One thing I know,"
+  As she rose, and in haste departed,
+"It is not those of the _greatest show,_
+To whom for a favor 'tis best to go,
+  Or that prove most generous-hearted!"
+
+A fleecy flock came into the field;
+  When one of its members followed
+The scent of the clover, till between
+Her nibbling teeth its head was seen,
+  And then in a moment swallowed.
+
+"Ha, ha!" said the Bee, as the Clover died,
+  "Her fortune's smile was fickle!
+And now I can get my wants supplied
+By a homely flower, with a rough outside.
+  And even with scale and prickle!"
+
+Then she flew to one, that, by man and beast
+  Was shunned for its stinging bristle;
+But it injured not the Bee in the least;
+And she filled her pocket, and had a feast,
+  From the bloom of the purple Thistle.
+
+The generous Thistle's life was spared
+  In the home where the Bee first found her,
+Till she grew so old she was hoary-haired,
+And her snow-white locks with the silk compared,
+  As they shone where the sun beamed round her.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: The clover-floret is so small and deep in its tube,
+that the bee cannot reach the honey at the bottom.]
+
+
+
+
+=Poor Old Paul=
+
+Poor old Paul! he has lost a foot;
+  And see him go hobbling along,
+With the stump laced up in that clumsy boot,
+  Before the gathering throng!
+
+And now, as he has to pass so many,
+  And suffer the gaze of all,
+If each would only bestow a penny,
+  'Twere something for poor old Paul.
+
+His cheek is wan, and his garb is thin;
+  His eye is sunken and dim;
+He looks as if the winter had been
+  Making sad work with him.
+
+While he is trying to hide the tatter,
+  Mark how his looks will fall!
+Nobody needs to ask the matter
+  With poor, old, hungry Paul.
+
+All that he has in his dingy sack
+  Is morsels of bread and meat,--
+The leavings, to burden his aged back,
+  Which others refused to eat.
+
+So now I am sure, you will all be willing
+  To part with a sum so small
+As each will spare, who makes up a shilling
+  To comfort him--Poor old Paul!
+
+
+
+
+=The Sea-Eagle's Fall=
+
+An Eagle, on his towering wing,
+  Hung o'er the summer sea;
+And ne'er did airy, feathered king
+  Look prouder there than he.
+
+He spied the finny tribes below,
+  Amid the limpid brine;
+And felt it now was time to know
+  Whereon he was to dine.
+
+He saw a noble, shining fish
+  So near the surface swim,
+He felt at once a hungry wish
+  To make a feast of him.
+
+Then straight he took his downward course;
+  A sudden plunge he gave;
+And, pouncing, seized, with murderous force,
+  His tempter in the wave.
+
+He struck his talons firm and deep,
+  Within the slippery prize,
+In hope his ruffian grasp to keep,
+  And high and dry to rise.
+
+But ah! it was a fatal stoop,
+  As ever monarch made;
+And, for that rash--that cruel swoop,
+  He soon most dearly paid!
+
+The fish had too much gravity
+  To yield to this attack.
+His feet the eagle could not free
+  From off the scaly back.
+
+He'd seized on one too strong and great;
+  His mastery now was gone!
+And on, by that preponderant weight,
+  And downward, he was drawn.
+
+Nor found he here the element
+  Where he could move with grace;
+And flap, and dash, his pinions went,
+  In ocean's wrinkled face.
+
+They could not bring his talons out,
+  His forfeit life to save;
+And planted thus, he writhed about
+  Upon his gaping grave.
+
+He raised his head, and gave a shriek,
+  To bid adieu to light:
+The water bubbled in his beak--
+  He sank from human sight!
+
+The children of the sea came round,
+  The foreigner to view.
+To see an airy monarch drowned,
+  To them was something new
+
+Some gave a quick, astonished look,
+  And darted swift away;
+While some his parting plumage shook,
+  And nibbled him for prey.
+
+O! who that saw that bird at noon
+  So high and proudly soar,
+Could think how awkwardly--how soon,
+  He'd fall to rise no more?
+
+Though glory, majesty, and pride
+  Were his an hour ago,
+Deprived of all, that eagle died,
+  For stooping once too low!
+
+Now, have you ever known or heard
+  Of biped, from his sphere
+Descending, like that silly bird
+  To buy a fish so dear?
+
+
+
+
+=The Two Thieves=
+
+A lady, they called her Miss Mouse,
+  In a slate-colored dress, like a Quaker,
+Once lived in a snug little house,
+  Of which she herself was the maker.
+
+There lived in another close by,
+  A dame, whom they called Lady Kitty;
+But that she was stationed so nigh,
+  Miss Mouse often thought a great pity.
+
+For she, though so soberly clad,
+  And never inclined to ill-speaking,
+Had often a fancy to gad,
+  Or more than her own might be seeking.
+
+She did not then like to be scanned,
+  Or questioned respecting her duty,
+When some little theft she had planned,
+  Or seen coming home with her booty.
+
+So modest she was, and so shy,
+  Although an inveterate sinner,
+She'd nip out her part of the pie
+  Before it was brought up to dinner.
+
+She held that 'twas folly to ask
+  For what her own wits would allow her;
+And, making her way through the cask,
+  She helped herself well to the flour.
+
+The candles she scraped to their wicks;
+  And, mischievous in her invention,
+Would do many more naughty tricks,
+  Which I, as her friend, cannot mention.
+
+Kit, too, had her living to make,
+  And yet, she was so above toiling,
+She'd sooner attack the beef-steak,
+  When the cook had prepared it for broiling.
+
+And so, near a dish of warm toast,
+  She often most patiently lingered,
+To seize her first chance; yet, could boast
+  That none ever called her _light-fingered_.
+
+But mending, or minding herself,
+  She thought would be quite too much labor,
+And so peeped about on the shelf,
+  To spy out the faults of her neighbor.
+
+For Mouse loved to promenade there,
+  While Kit would watch close to waylay her;
+And once, in the midst of her fare,
+  Up bounded Miss Kitty to slay her!
+
+But this was as luckless a jump
+  As ever Kit made, with the clatter
+Of knife, skimmer, spoon, and a thump,
+  Which she got, as she threw down the platter.
+
+While Mouse glided under a dish.
+  Escaping the mortal disaster,
+Miss Kitty turned off to a fish,
+  The breakfast elect for her master.
+
+Said she to herself, "Tis clear gain,--
+  This rarity, fresh from the water,
+Will save my white mittens the stain--
+  And me from the trouble of slaughter!"
+
+But her racket, she found to her cost,
+  The plot had most fatally thickened;
+And all hope of mercy was lost,
+  As Jack's coming footstep was quickened.
+
+He seized her, and binding her fast.
+  Declared he could never forgive her;
+So Kitty was sentenced and cast,
+  With a stone at her neck, in the river!
+
+But Mouse still continued to thieve;
+  And often, alone in her dwelling,
+Would silently laugh in her sleeve,
+  At the scene in the tale I've been telling--
+
+Till once, by a fatal mishap,
+  The little unfortunate rover
+Perceived herself close in a trap,
+  And felt that her race was now over.
+
+She knew she must leave all behind;
+  And thus, in the midst of her terrors,
+As every thing rushed to her mind,
+  Began her confession of errors:--
+
+"You'll find, on the word of a Mouse,
+  Whom hope has for ever forsaken,
+The following things in my house,
+  Which I have unlawfully taken:
+
+"A cork, that was soaked in the beer,
+  Which I nibbled until I was merry;
+Some kernels of corn from the ear,
+  The skin and the stone of a cherry:--
+
+"Some hemp-seed I took from the bird,
+  And found most deliriously tasted,
+While safe in my covert, I heard
+  Its owner complain that 'twas wasted:--
+
+"You'll find a few cucumber seeds,
+  Which I thought, if they could but be hollowed,
+Would answer to string out for beads;
+  So the inside of all I have swallowed:--
+
+"A few crumbs of biscuit and cheese,
+  Which I thought might a long time supply me
+With luncheon--some rice and split peas,
+  Which seemed well prepared to keep by me:--
+
+"A cluster of curls which I stole
+  At night from a young lady's toilet,
+And made me a bed of it whole,
+  As tearing it open would spoil it;--
+
+"And as, in a long summer day
+  I'd time both or reading and spelling,
+I gnawed up the whole of a play,
+  And carried it home to my dwelling.
+
+"I wish you'd set fire to my place;
+  And pray you at once to despatch me,
+That none of my enemy's race,
+  In the form of Miss Kitty, may catch me!"
+
+Disgrace thus will follow on vice,
+  Although for a while it be hidden;
+When children, or kittens, or mice,
+  Will do what they know is forbidden.
+
+
+
+
+=Jemmy String=
+
+I knew a little heedless boy,
+  A child that seldom cared,
+If he could get his cake and toy,
+  How other matters fared.
+
+He always bore upon his foot
+  A signal of the thing,
+For which, on him his playmates put
+  The name of Jemmy String.
+
+No malice in his heart was there;
+  He had no fault beside,
+So great as that of wanting care.
+  To keep his shoe-strings tied.
+
+You'd often see him on the run,
+  To chase the geese about,
+While both his shoe-ties were undone,
+  With one end slipping out.
+
+He'd tread on one, then down he'd go,
+  And all around would ring
+With bitter cries, and sounds of woe,
+  That came from Jemmy String.
+
+And oft, by such a sad mishap,
+  Would Jemmy catch a hurt;
+The muddy pool would catch his cap,
+  His clothes would catch the dirt!
+
+Then home he'd hasten through the street,
+  To tell about his fall;
+While, on his little sloven feet,
+  The cause was plain to all.
+
+For while he shook his aching hand,
+  Complaining of the bruise,
+The strings were trailing through the sand
+  From both his loosened shoes.
+
+One day, his father thought a ride
+  Would do his children good;
+But Jemmy's shoe-strings were untied,
+  And on the stairs he stood.
+
+In hastening down to take his place
+  Upon the carriage seat,
+Poor Jemmy lost his joyous face;
+  Nor could he keep his feet.
+
+The dragging string had made him trip,
+  And bump! bump! went his head;--
+The teeth had struck and cut his lip,
+  And tears and blood were shed.
+
+His aching wounds he meekly bore;
+  But with a swelling heart
+He heard the carriage from the door,
+  With all but him, depart.
+
+This grievous lesson taught him care,
+  And gave his mind a spring;
+For he resolved no more to bear
+  The name of JEMMY STRING!
+
+
+
+
+=The Caterpillar=
+
+"Don't kill me!" Caterpillar said,
+  As Charles had raised his heel
+Upon the humble worm to tread,
+  As though it could not feel.
+
+"Don't kill me! and I'll crawl away
+  To hide awhile, and try
+To come and look, another day,
+  More pleasing to your eye.
+
+"I know I'm now among the things
+  Uncomely to your sight;
+But by and by on splendid wings
+  You'll see me high and light!
+
+"And then, perhaps, you may be glad
+  To watch me on the flower;
+And that you spared the worm you had
+  To-day within your power!"
+
+Then Caterpillar went and hid
+  In some secreted place,
+Where none could look on what he did
+  To change his form and face.
+
+And by and by, when Charles had quite
+  Forgotten what I've told,
+A Butterfly appeared in sight,
+  Most beauteous to behold.
+
+His shining wings were trimmed with gold,
+  And many a brilliant dye
+Was laid upon their velvet fold,
+  To charm the gazing eye!
+
+Then, near as prudence would allow,
+  To Charles's ear he drew
+And said, "You may not know me, now
+  My form and name are new!
+
+"But I'm the worm that once you raised
+  Your ready foot to kill!
+For sparing me, I long have praised,
+  And love and praise you still.
+
+"The lowest reptile at your feet,
+  When power is not abused,
+May prove the fruit of mercy sweet,
+  By being kindly used!"
+
+
+
+
+=The Mocking Bird=
+
+  A Mocking Bird was he,
+  In a bushy, blooming tree,
+Imbosomed by the foliage and flower.
+  And there he sat and sang,
+  Till all around him rang,
+With sounds, from out the merry mimic's bower.
+
+  The little satirist
+  Piped, chattered, shrieked, and hissed;
+He then would moan, and whistle, quack, and caw;
+  Then, carol, drawl, and croak,
+  As if he'd pass a joke
+On every other winged one he saw.
+
+  Together he would catch
+  A gay and plaintive snatch,
+And mingle notes of half the feathered throng.
+  For well the mocker knew,
+  Of every thing that flew,
+To imitate the manner and the song.
+
+  The other birds drew near,
+  And paused awhile to hear
+How well he gave their voices and their airs.
+  And some became amused;
+  While some, disturbed, refused
+To own the sounds that others said were theirs.
+
+  The sensitive were shocked,
+  To find their honors mocked
+By one so pert and voluble as he;
+  They knew not if 't was done
+  In earnest or in fun;
+And fluttered off in silence from the tree.
+
+  The silliest grew vain,
+  To think a song or strain
+Of theirs, however weak, or loud, or hoarse,
+    Was worthy to be heard
+    Repeated by the bird;
+For of his wit they could not feel the force.
+
+     The charitable said,
+     "Poor fellow! if his head
+Is turned, or cracked, or has no talent left;
+      But feels the want of powers,
+      And plumes itself from ours,
+Why, we shall not be losers by the theft."
+
+     The haughty said, "He thus.
+     It seems, would mimic us,
+And steal our songs, to pass them for his own!
+     But if he only quotes
+     In honor of our notes,
+We then were quite as honored, let alone."
+
+     The wisest said, "If foe
+     Or friend, we still may know
+By him, wherein our greatest failing lies.
+  So, let us not be moved,
+  Since first to be improved
+By every thing, becomes the truly wise."
+
+
+
+
+=The Silk-Worm's Will=
+
+On a plain rush-hurdle a silk-worm lay,
+When a proud young princess came that way.
+The haughty child of a human king
+Threw a sidelong glance at the humble thing,
+That received with a silent gratitude
+From the mulberry-leaf her simple food;
+And shrunk, half scorn, and half disgust,
+Away from her sister child of the dust;
+Declaring she never yet could see
+Why a reptile form like this should be;--
+And that she was not made with nerves so firm,
+As calmly to stand by a _crawling worm_!
+
+With mute forbearance the silk-worm took
+The taunting words and the spurning look.
+
+Alike a stranger to self and pride,
+She'd no disquiet from aught beside;
+And lived of a meekness and peace possest
+Which these debar from the human breast.
+She only wished, for the harsh abuse,
+To find some way to become of use
+To the haughty daughter of lordly man;
+And thus did she lay her noble plan
+To teach her wisdom, and make it plain
+That the humble worm was not made in vain;--
+A plan so generous, deep and high,
+That to carry it out, she must even die!
+
+"No more," said she, "will I drink or eat!
+I'll spin and weave me a winding-sheet,
+To wrap me up from the sun's clear light,
+And hide my form from her wounded sight.
+In secret then, till my end draws nigh,
+I will toil for her; and when I die,
+I'll leave behind, as a farewell boon
+To the proud young princess, my whole cocoon,
+To be reeled, and wove to a shining lace,
+And hung in a veil o'er her scornful face!
+And when she can calmly draw her breath
+Through the very threads that have caused my death;
+When she finds at length, she has nerves so firm,
+As to wear the shroud of a _crawling worm_,
+May she bear in mind that she walks with pride
+In the winding-sheet where the silk-worm died!"
+
+
+
+
+=Dame Biddy=
+
+Dame Biddy abode in a coop,
+  Because it so chanced that dame Biddy
+Had round her a family group
+  Of chicks, young, and helpless, and giddy.
+
+And when she had freedom to roam,
+  She fancied the life of a ranger;
+And led off her brood, far from home,
+  To fall into mischief or danger.
+
+She'd trail through the grass to be mown,
+  And call all her children to follow;
+And scratch up the seeds that were sown,
+  Then, lie in their places and wallow.
+
+She'd go where the corn in the hill,
+  Its first little blade had been shooting,
+And try, by the strength of her bill,
+  To learn if the kernel was rooting.
+
+And when she went out on a walk
+  Of pleasure, through thicket and brambles,
+The covetous eye of a Hawk
+  Delighted in marking her rambles.
+
+"I spy," to himself he would say,
+  "A prize of which I'll be the winner!"
+So down would he pounce on his prey,
+  And bear off a chicken for dinner.
+
+The poor frighted matron, that heard
+  The cry of her youngling in dying,
+Would scream at the merciless bird,
+  That high with his booty was flying.
+
+But shrieks could not ease her distress,
+  Nor grief her lost darling recover.
+She now had a chicken the less,
+  For acting the part of a rover.
+
+And there lay the feathers, all torn.
+  And flying one way and another,
+That still her dear child might have worn,
+  Had she been more wise as a mother.
+
+Her owner then thought he must teach
+  Dame Biddy a little subjection;
+And cooped her up, out of the reach
+  Of hawking, with time for reflection.
+
+And, throwing a net o'er a pile
+  Of brush-wood that near her was lying,
+He hoped to its meshes to wile
+  The fowler, that o'er her was flying.
+
+For Hawk, not forgetting his fare,
+  And having a taste to renew it,
+Sailed round near the coop, high in air,
+  With cruel intention, to view it.
+
+The owner then said, "Master Hawk,
+  If you love my chickens so dearly,
+Come down to my yard for a walk,
+  That you may address them more nearly."
+
+But, "No," thought the sharp-taloned foe
+  Of Biddy, "my circuit is higher!
+If I to his premises go.
+  'Twill be when I see he's not nigh her."
+
+The Farmer strewd barley, and toled
+  The chickens the brush to run under,
+And left them, while Hawk growing bold,
+  Thus tempted, came near for his plunder.
+
+As closer and closer he drew,
+  With appetite stronger and stronger,
+He found he'd but one thing to do,
+  And plunged, to defer it no longer.
+
+But now he had come to a pause,
+  At once in the net-work entangled,
+While through it his head and his claws
+  In hopeless vacuity dangled.
+
+The chicks saw him hang overhead,
+  Where they for their barley had huddled;
+And all in a flutter they fled,
+  And soon through the coop holes had scuddled.
+
+The Farmer came out to his snare,
+  He saw the bold captive was in it;
+And said, "If this play be unfair,
+  Remember, I did not begin it!"
+
+He then put a cork on his beak,
+  The airy assassin disarming,
+Unspurred him, and rendered him weak,
+  By blunting each talent for harming.
+
+And into the coop he was thrown:
+  The chickens hid under their mother,
+For he, by his feathers was known
+  As he, who had murdered their brother
+
+Dame Biddy, beholding his plight,
+  Determined to show him no quarter,
+In action gave vent to her spite;
+  As motherly tenderness taught her.
+
+She shouted, and blustered; and then
+  Attacked the poor captive unfriended;
+And you, (who have witnessed a hen
+  In anger,) may guess how it ended.
+
+She made him a touching address,
+  If pecking and scratching could do it;
+Till sinking in silent distress,
+  He perished before she got through it.
+
+We would not, however, convey
+  A thought like approving the fury,
+That gave, in this summary way,
+  Punition without judge or jury.
+
+Whenever 'tis given, it tends
+  To lessen the angry bestower.
+The _fowl_ that inflicts it descends--
+  But the _featherless biped_, still lower.
+
+
+
+
+=Kit With the Rose=
+
+A Rose-tree stood in the parlor,
+  When Kit came frolicking by;
+So, up went her feet on the window-seat,
+  To a rose that had caught her eye.
+
+She gave it a cuff, and it trembled
+  Beneath her ominous paw;
+And while it shook, with a threatening look,
+  She coveted what she saw.
+
+Thought she, "What a beautiful toss-ball!
+  If I could but give it a snap,
+Now all are out, nor thinking about
+  Their rose, or the least mishap!"
+
+She twisted the stem, and she twirled it;
+  And seizing the flower it bore,
+With the timely aid of her teeth, she made
+  A leap to the parlor-floor.
+
+Then over the carpet she tossed it,
+  All fresh in its morning bloom,
+Till, shattered and rent, its leaves were sent
+  To every side of the room.
+
+At length, with her sport grown weary,
+  She laid herself down to sun,
+Inclining to doze, forgetting the rose,
+  And the mischief she'd slily done.
+
+By and by her young mistress entered,
+  And uttered a piteous cry,
+When she saw the fate of what had so late
+  Delighted her watchful eye.
+
+But, where was the one who had spoiled it
+  Concealing his guilty face?
+She had not a clue, whereby to pursue
+  The rogue to his lurking-place!
+
+Thought Kit, "I'll keep still till it's over;
+  And none will suspect it was I."
+For the puss awoke, when her mistress spoke;
+  And she well understood the cry.
+
+But, mewing at length for her dinner,
+  Kit's mouth confessed the whole truth:
+It opened so wide that her mistress espied
+  A rose-leaf pierced by her tooth!
+
+Then, banished was Kit from the parlor,
+  All covered with shame! And those
+Inclined, like her, in secret to err,
+  Should remember Kit with the Rose.
+
+
+
+
+=The Captive Butterfly=
+
+Good morning, pretty Butterfly!
+  How have you passed the night?
+I hope you're gay and glad as I
+  To see the morning light.
+
+But, little silent one, methinks
+  You're in a sober mood.
+I wonder if you'd like to drink,
+  And what you take for food.
+
+I shut you in my crystal cup,
+  To let your winglets rest.
+And now I want to hold you up,
+  To see your velvet vest.
+
+I want to count your tiny toes.
+  To find your breathing-place,
+And touch the downy horn that grows
+  Each side your pretty face.
+
+I'd like to see just how you're made,
+  With streaks and spots and rings;
+And wish you'd show me how you played
+  Your shining, rainbow wings.
+
+"'T was not," the little prisoner said,
+  "For want of food or drink,
+That, while you slumbered on your bed,
+  I could not sleep a wink.
+
+"My wings are pained for want of flight,
+  My lungs, for want of air.
+In bitterness I've passed the night,
+  And meet the morning's glare.
+
+"When looking through my prison wall,
+  So close, and yet so clear,
+I see there's freedom there for all,
+  While I'm a captive here.
+
+"I've stood upon my feeble feet
+  Until they're full of pain.
+I know that liberty is sweet,
+  Which I cannot regain.
+
+"Do I deserve a fate like this,
+  Who've ever acted well,
+Since first I left the chrysalis,
+  And fluttered from my shell?
+
+"I've never injured fruit, or flower,
+  Or man, or bird, or beast;
+And such a one should have the power
+  Of going free, at least.
+
+"And now, if you will let me quit
+  My prison-house, the cup,
+I'll show you how I sport and flit,
+  And make my wings go up!"
+
+The lid was raised; the prisoner said,
+  "Behold my airy play!"
+Then quickly on the wing he fled
+  Away, away, away!
+
+From flower to flower he gayly flew,
+  To cool his aching feet,
+And slake his thirst with morning dew,
+  Where liberty was sweet!
+
+
+
+
+=The Dissatisfied Angler Boy=
+
+I'm sorry they let me go down to the brook;
+I'm sorry they gave me the line and the hook;
+And wish I had staid at home with my book!
+  I'm sure 'twas no pleasure to see
+That poor little harmless, suffering thing
+Silently writhe at the end of the string,
+Or to hold the pole, while I felt him swing
+  In torture,--and all for me!
+
+'Twas a beautiful speckled and glossy trout;
+And when from the water I drew him out,
+On the grassy bank as he floundered about,
+  It made me shivering cold,
+To think I had caused so much needless pain;
+And I tried to relieve him, but all in vain:
+O never, as long as I live, again
+  May I such a sight behold!
+
+But, what would I give, once more to see
+The brisk little swimmer alive and free,
+And darting about as he used to be,
+  Unhurt, in his native brook!
+'Tis strange that people can love to play,
+By taking innocent lives away!
+I wish I had stayed at home to-day
+  With sister, and read my book.
+
+
+
+
+=The Stove and the Grate-Setter=
+
+Old Winter is coming, to play off his tricks--
+  To make your ears tingle--your fingers to numb!
+So I, with my trowel, new mortar and bricks,
+  To guard you against him, already am come.
+
+An ounce of prevention in time, I have found,
+  Is worth pounds of remedy taken too late!
+And proof that the sense of my maxim is sound,
+  Will shine where I fasten stove, furnace or grate.
+
+The Summer leaves now whirling fast from the trees,
+  By Autumn's chill blast are tossed yellow and sere;
+And soon, with the breath of his nostrils to freeze
+  Each thing he can puff at, will Winter be here!
+
+But hardly he'll dare to steal in at the door,
+  Your elbows to bite with his keen cutting air,
+And give you an ague, where I've been before,
+  To set the defence I to-day can prepare.
+
+And when he comes blustering on from the north,
+  To give you blue faces, and shakes by the chin,
+You'll find what the craft of the mason was worth,
+  As you from abroad to your parlor step in!
+
+For all will around be so pleasant and warm,--
+  Your hearth bright and cheering--your coal in a glow;
+You'll not heed the winds whistling up the rough storm
+  To sift o'er your dwellings its clouds full of snow!
+
+You'll then think of me;--how I handled to-day
+  The cold stone and iron--the brick and the lime:
+And all, but the surer foundation to lay
+  For comfort to give in the drear winter time.
+
+I lay you, against this old Winter, a charm.
+  To make him, at least, keep himself out of doors!
+'Twould melt--should he enter--his hard hand and arm.
+  When loud for admission he threatens and roars.
+
+If gratitude then should come, warming your _heart_,
+  As peaceful you sit by your warm _fireside_;
+Perhaps it may teach you some good to impart
+  To those, where the gifts you enjoy are denied.
+
+For He in whose favor all blessedness is;
+  And out of whose kingdom no treasure is sure,
+Was poor when on earth;--and the poor still are his:
+  His charge to his friends is "_Remember the poor_."
+
+Nor would his disciple be higher than He,
+  Who once on the dwellings of men, for his bread,
+In lowliness wrought! but contentedly, we
+  Will work by the light that our Master has shed.
+
+
+
+
+=Song of the Bees=
+
+We watch for the light of the morn to break,
+  And color the eastern sky
+With its blended hues of saffron and lake;
+Then say to each other, "Awake! awake!
+For our winter's honey is all to make,
+  And our bread for a long supply!"
+
+Then off we hie to the hill and the dell--
+  To the field, the meadow, and bower:
+In the columbine's horn we love to dwell,--
+To dip in the lily with snow-white bell,--
+To search the balm in its odorous cell,
+  The mint, and rosemary flower.
+
+We suck the bloom of the eglantine,--
+  Of the pointed thistle and brier;
+And follow the track of the wandering vine,
+Whether it trail on the earth, supine,
+Or round the aspiring tree-top twine,
+  And reach for a state still higher.
+
+As each, on the good of the others bent,
+  Is busy, and cares for all,
+We hope for an evening with hearts content,--
+That Winter may find us without lament
+For a Summer that's gone, with its hours misspent,
+  And a harvest that's past recall!
+
+
+
+
+=The Summer is Come=
+
+CHILDHOOD'S RURAL SONG.
+
+  The Summer is come
+  With the insect's hum,
+And the birds that merrily sing.
+  And sweet are the hours,
+  And the fruits and flowers,
+That Summer has come to bring.
+
+  All nature is glad,
+  And the earth is clad
+In her brightest and best array:
+  So, we with delight
+  Will our songs unite,
+Our tribute of joy to pay.
+
+
+  The swallow is out,
+  And she sails about
+In air, for the careless fly:
+  Then she takes a sip
+  With her horny lip
+As she skims where the waters lie.
+
+  And the lamb bounds light
+  In his fleece of white,
+But he doesn't know what to think,
+  In the streamlet clear,
+  Where he sees appear
+His face as he stoops to drink.
+
+  For, never before
+  Has he gambolled o'er
+The summer-dressed, flowery earth;
+  And he skips in play,
+  As he fain would say
+"'Tis a season of feast and mirth."
+
+  And we have to-day
+  Been rambling away
+To gather the flowers most fair,
+  Which we sat beneath
+  An old oak to wreath
+While fanned by the balmy air.
+
+  Now the sun goes down
+  Like a golden crown
+That's sliding behind a hill;
+  So we dance the while
+  To his farewell smile;
+And well dance as the dews distil.
+
+  Then, we'll dance to-night
+  While the fire-fly's light
+Is sparkling among the grass;
+  And we'll step our tune
+  To the silver moon,
+As over the green we pass.
+
+  O, Summer is sweet!
+  But her joys are fleet;
+We catch them but on the wing:
+  Yet never the less
+  Would our hearts confess
+The blessings she comes to bring.
+
+
+
+
+=The Morning-Glory=
+
+Come here and sit thee down by me!
+I've read a tale, I'll tell to thee;
+And precious will the moral be,
+  Though simple is the story.
+It is about a brilliant flower,
+With beauty scarce possessed of power
+Its opening to survive an hour--
+  An airy Morning-Glory.
+
+'Tis common parlance names it thus;
+But 'twas a gay convolvulus:
+Yet we'll not stop to here discuss
+  Its species or its genus.
+We'll just suppose a blooming vine
+With many leaf and bud to shine,
+And curling tendrils thrown to twine
+  And form a bower, between us.
+
+And we'll suppose a happy boy,
+With face lit up by hope and joy,
+Who thinks that nothing shall destroy
+  His vine, his pride and pleasure,
+Is standing near, with kindling eye,
+As if its very look would pry
+The cup apart, therein to spy
+  The growing floral treasure.
+
+And now the petal, twisted tight,
+Above the calyx peers to sight
+With apex tipped with purple, bright
+  As if the rainbow dyed it.
+While on the air it vacillates,
+Its owner's bosom palpitates
+To see it open, as he waits
+  Impatient close beside it.
+
+Another rising sun has thrown
+Its beams upon the vine, and shown
+The splendid Morning-Glory blown,
+  As if some little fairy,
+When early from his couch he went,
+On some ethereal journey bent,
+Had there inverted left his tent
+  Of purple, high and airy.
+
+And many a fair and shining flower
+As bright as this adorned the bower,
+Displayed like jewels in an hour,
+  Where'er the vine was clinging.
+As each corolla lost its twist,
+The zephyr fanned, the sunbeam kissed
+The little vase of amethyst;
+  And round it birds were singing.
+
+And now the little boy comes out
+To see his vine. He gives a shout,
+And sings and laughs, and jumps about
+  Like one two-thirds demented.
+His little playmates, one, two, three,
+Come round the beauteous vine to see,
+And each cries, "Give a flower to me,
+  And I'll go off contented."
+
+But "No," the selfish owner cried,
+And pushed his comrades all aside,
+While walking round his bower with pride,
+  "Not one of you shall sever
+A floweret from the stem so gay;
+I own them, not to give away!
+I'll come to see them every day;
+  And keep them mine for ever!"
+
+So, when at noon from school he came,
+To see his vine was first his aim:
+But oh! his feelings who can name,
+  As mute he stood and eyed it?
+For not a flower could he behold,
+While each corolla, inward rolled,
+Appeared as shrivelled, dead, and old
+  As if a fire had dried it.
+
+"Alas!" the selfish owner said,
+"My Glories----oh! they all are dead!
+And all my little friends have fled
+  Aggrieved! for I've abused them.
+They'll keep away, and but deride
+My sorrow, when they hear my pride
+Is gone;--that quick the pleasures died
+  Which rudely I refused them!"
+
+
+
+
+=The Old Cotter and his Cow=
+
+  My good old Cow,
+  I scarce know how
+Again we've wintered over;
+  With my scant fare,
+  And thine so spare--
+No dainty dish, nor clover!
+
+  We both were old,
+  And keen the cold;
+While poorly housed we found us;
+  And by the blast
+  That, whistling, passed,
+The snows were sifted round us.
+
+  While, many a day.
+  Few locks of hay
+Were most thy crib presented,
+  A patient Cow,
+  And kind wast thou,
+And with thy mite contented.
+
+  But though the storms
+  Have chilled our forms,
+And we've been pinched together,
+  The dark, blue day
+  Is passed away;
+We've reached the warm spring weather!
+
+  The bounteous earth
+  Is shooting forth
+Her grass and flowers so gayly;
+  Thou now canst feed
+  Along the mead,
+While food is growing daily.
+
+  The soft, sweet breeze
+  Through budding trees
+Now fans my brow so hoary:
+  And these old eyes
+  Find new supplies
+Of light from nature's glory.
+
+  Though poor my cot,
+  And low my lot,
+With thee, my richest treasure,
+  I take my cup,
+  And looking up,
+Bless Him who gives my measure.
+
+
+
+
+=The Speckled One=
+
+Poor speckled one! none else will deign
+  To waft thy name around;
+So, let me take it on my strain,
+  To give it air and sound.
+
+Yes--air and sound, low child of earth!
+  For these are oft the things
+That give a name its greatest worth,
+  Its gorgeous plumes and wings.
+
+But do not shun me thus, and hop
+  Affrighted from my way!
+Dismiss thy terrors--turn and stop;
+  And hear what I may say.
+
+Meek, harmless thing, afraid of man?
+  This truly should not be.
+Then calmly pause, and let me scan
+  My Maker's work in thee.
+
+For both of us to Him belong;
+  We're fellow-creatures here;
+And power should not be armed with wrong,
+  Nor weakness filled with fear.
+
+I know it is thy humble lot
+  To burrow in a hole--
+To have a form I envy not,
+  And that without a soul.
+
+In motion, attitude and limb
+  I see thee void of grace;
+And that a look supremely grim,
+  Reigns o'er thy solemn face.
+
+But thou for this art not to blame;
+  Nor should it make us load
+With obloquy, and scorn, and shame
+  The honest name of TOAD.
+
+For, though so low on nature's scale--
+  In presence so uncouth,
+Thou ne'er hast told an evil tale,
+  Of falsehood, or of truth.
+
+Thy thoughts are ne'er on malice bent--
+  Nor hands to mischief prone;
+Nor yet thy heart to discontent;
+  Though spurned, and poor and lone.
+
+No coveting nor envy burns
+  In thy bright golden eye,
+That calm and innocently turns
+  On all below the sky.
+
+Thy cautious tongue and sober lip
+  No words of folly pass,
+Nor, are they found to taste and sip
+  The madness of the glass.
+
+Thy frugal meal is often drawn
+  From earth, and wood, and stone;
+And when thy means by these are gone,
+  Thou seem'st to live on none.
+
+I hear that in an earthen jar
+  Sealed close, shut up alive,
+From food, drink, air, sun, moon and star,
+  Thou'lt live and even thrive:--
+
+And that no moan, or murmuring sound
+  Will issue from the lid
+Of thy dark dwelling under ground,
+  When it is deeply hid.
+
+Thou hast, as 'twere, a secret shelf,
+  Whereon is a supply
+Of nourishment, within thyself,
+  Concealed from mortal eye.
+
+Methinks this self-sustaining art
+  'Twere well for us to know,
+To keep us up in flesh and heart,
+  When outer means grow low.
+
+Could we contain our riches thus,
+  On such mysterious shelves,
+Why, none could rob or beggar us;
+  Unless we lost ourselves!
+
+But ah! my Toadie, there's the rub,
+  With every human breast--
+To live as in the cynic's tub,
+  And yet be self-possessed!
+
+For, how to let no boast get round
+  Beyond our tub, to show
+That we in head and heart are sound,
+  Is one great thing to know.
+
+And yet, the prison-staves and hoop
+  To let no murmur through,
+However hard we find the coop,
+  Is greater still to do.
+
+Then go, thou sage, resigned and calm,
+  Amid thy low estate;
+And to thy burrow bear the palm
+  For victory over fate.
+
+We conquer, when we meekly bear
+  The lot we cannot shape;
+And hug to death the ills and care
+  From which there's no escape.
+
+
+
+
+=The Blind Musician=
+
+"Ah! who comes here?" old Raymond cried,
+As lone he sat by the highway-side,
+Where Frisk jumped up at his knee in play;
+And his white locks went to the air astray;--
+While his worn-out hat lay on the ground,
+And his light violin gave forth no sound--
+"Ah! who comes here with voice so kind
+To the ear of a poor old man who's blind?"
+
+'Twas a gladsome troop of bright young boys,
+With hearts all full of their play-day joys,
+As their baskets were of nuts and cake,
+And fruits, a pic-nic treat to make.
+For they were out for the fields and flowers--
+For the grassy lane, and the woodland bowers;
+And the course they took first led them by
+Where the lone one sat with a sightless eye.
+
+They saw he'd a worn and hungry look;
+And each from his basket promptly took
+A part of its precious pic-nic store,
+And tried the others to get before,
+As on with their ready gifts they ran,
+To reach them forth to the poor old man;
+And said, "Good Sir, take this and eat
+While resting thus on your mossy seat."
+
+"Heaven bless you, little children dear!"
+Old Raymond cried, with a starting tear,
+As they took their cup to the fountain's brink,
+And brought him back some clear, cool drink.
+And Frisk looked up with a grateful eye,
+As to him they dropped some crust of pie:
+For he, good dog, was his master's guide,
+By a cord to the ring of his collar tied.
+
+"And now, would you like to hear me play,"
+Said the traveller, "ere you go your way?
+O, I did not think that aught so soon
+Could have put my poor old heart in tune.
+But you have touched it at the spring,
+And it seems as if it could dance and sing.
+Your kindness makes my spirit light,
+Till I hardly feel that I've lost my sight!"
+
+He took up his violin and bow,
+And made his voice to their music flow;
+And the children, listening sat around
+As if by a spell to the circle bound.
+While thus they were fastened to the spot,
+And their first pursuit almost forgot,
+They felt they could ask no pleasure more,
+And their picnic frolic at once gave o'er.
+
+And there they staid till the sun went down,
+When they led the old Raymond safe to town;
+While Frisk went sporting all the way,
+To speak his thanks by his joyous play.
+They found him a room with a table spread,
+And a pillow to rest his hoary head.
+Then feeling their time and pence well-spent,
+They all went back to their homes content.
+
+
+
+
+=The Lame House=
+
+O, I cannot bring to mind
+When I've had a look so kind,
+Gentle lady, as thine eye
+Gives me, while I'm limping by!
+Then, thy little boy appears
+To regard me but with tears.
+Think'st thou he would like to know
+What has brought my state so low?
+
+When not half so old as he,
+I was bounding, light and free,
+By my happy mother's side,
+Ere my mouth the bit had tried,
+Or my head had felt the rein
+Drawn, my spirits to restrain.
+But I'm now so worn and old,
+Half my sorrows can't be told.
+
+When my services began,
+How I loved my master, man!
+I was pampered and caressed,--
+Housed, and fed upon the best.
+Many looked with hearts elate
+At my graceful form and gait,--
+At my smooth and glossy hair
+Combed and brushed with daily care.
+
+Studded trappings then I wore,
+And with pride my master bore,--
+Glad his kindness to repay
+In my free, but silent way.
+Then was found no nimble steed
+That could equal me in speed,
+So untiring, and so fleet
+Were these now, old, aching feet.
+
+But my troubles soon drew nigh:
+Less of kindness marked his eye,
+When my strength began to fail;
+And he put me off at sale.
+Constant changes were my fate,
+Far too grievous to relate.
+Yet I've been, to say the least,
+Through them all a patient beast.
+
+Older--weaker--still I grew:
+Kind attentions all withdrew!
+Little food, and less repose;
+Harder burdens--heavier blows,--
+These became my hapless lot,
+Till I sunk upon the spot!
+This maimed limb beneath me bent
+With the pain it underwent.
+
+Now I'm useless, old, and poor,
+They have made my sentence sure;
+And to-morrow is the day,
+Set for me to limp away,
+To some far, sequestered place,
+There at once to end my race.
+I stood by, and heard their plot--
+Soon my woes shall be forgot!
+
+Gentle lady, when I'm dead
+By the blow upon my head,
+Proving thus, the truest friend,
+Him who brings me to my end;
+Wilt thou bid them dig a grave
+For their faithful, patient slave;
+Then, my mournful story trace,
+Asking mercy for my race?
+
+
+
+
+=Humility; or, The Mushroom's Soliloquy.=
+
+O, what, and whence am I, 'mid damps and dust,
+And darkness, into sudden being thrust?
+What was I yesterday? and what will be,
+Perchance, to-morrow, seen or heard of me?
+
+Poor--lone--unfriended--ignorant--forlorn,
+To bear the new, full glory of the morn,--
+Beneath the garden wall I stand aside,
+With all before me beauty, show, and pride.
+
+Ah! why did Nature shoot me thus to light,
+A thing unfit for use--unfit for sight;
+Less like her work than like a piece of Art,
+Whirled out and trimmed--exact in every part?
+
+Unlike the graceful shrub, and flexible vine,
+No fruit--no branch--nor leaf, nor bud, is mine.
+No singing bird, nor butterfly, nor bee
+Will come to cheer, caress, or flatter me.
+
+No beauteous flower adorns my humble head,
+No spicy odors on the air I shed;
+But here I'm stationed, in my sombre suit,
+With only top and stem--I've scarce a root!
+
+Untaught of my beginning or my end,
+I know not whence I sprung, or where I tend:
+Yet I will wait, and trust; nor dare presume
+To question Justice--I, a frail Mushroom!
+
+
+
+
+=The Lost Nestlings.=
+
+"Have you seen my darling nestlings?"
+A mother-robin cried,
+"I cannot, cannot find them,
+Though I've sought them far and wide.
+
+"I left them well this morning,
+When I went to seek their food;
+But I found, upon returning,
+I'd a nest without a brood.
+
+"O have you nought to tell me,
+That will ease my aching breast,
+About my tender offspring
+That I left within the nest?
+
+"I have called them in the bushes,
+  And the rolling stream beside;
+Yet they come not at my bidding;--
+  I'm afraid they all have died!"
+
+"I can tell you all about them;"
+  Said a little wanton boy
+"For 'twas I that had the pleasure
+  Your nestlings to destroy.
+
+"But I didn't think their mother
+  Her little ones would miss;
+Or ever come to hail me
+  With a wailing sound, like this.
+
+"I didn't know your bosom
+  Was formed to suffer woe,
+And to mourn your murdered children,
+  Or I had not grieved you so.
+
+"I am sorry that I've taken
+  The lives I can't restore;
+And this regret shall teach me
+  To do the like no more.
+
+"I ever shall remember
+The wailing sound I've heard!
+No more I'll kill a nestling,
+To pain a mother-bird!"
+
+
+
+
+=The Bat's Flight By Daylight An Allegory=.
+
+A Bat one morn from his covert flew,
+To show the world what a Bat could do,
+By soaring off on a lofty flight,
+In the open day, by the sun's clear light!
+He quite forgot that he had for wings
+But a pair of monstrous, plumeless things;
+That, more than half like a fish's fin,
+With a warp of bone, and a woof of skin,
+Were only fit in the dark to fly,
+In view of a bat's or an owlet's eye.
+
+He sallied forth from his hidden hole,
+And passed the door of his neighbor, Mole,
+Who shrugged, and said, "Of the two so blind
+The wisest, surely, stays behind!"
+But he could not cope with the glare of day:
+He lost his sight, and he missed his way;--
+He wheeled on his flapping wings, till, "bump!"
+His head went, hard on the farm-yard pump.
+Then, stunned and posed, as he met the ground,
+A stir and a shout in the yard went round;
+For its tenants thought they had one come there,
+That seemed not of water, earth, or air.
+The Hen, "Cut, cut, cut-dah-cut!" cried,
+For all to cut at the thing she spied;
+While the taunting Duck said, "Quack, quack, quack!"
+As her muddy mouth to the pool went back,
+For something denser than sound, to show
+Her sage disgust, at the quack to throw.
+The old Turk strutted, and gobbled aloud,
+Till he gathered around him a babbling crowd;
+When each proud neck in the whole doomed group
+Was poked with a condescending stoop,
+And a pointed beak, at the prostrate Bat,
+Which they eyed askance, as to ask, "What's _that_?"
+But none could tell; and the poults moved off,
+In their _select circle_ to leer and scoff.
+
+The Goslings skulked; but their wise mamma,
+She hissed, and screamed, till the Lambs cried, "Ba-a!"
+When up from his straw sprang the gaping Calf,
+With a gawky leap and a clammy laugh.
+He stared--retreated--and off he went,
+The wondrous news in his voice to vent,--
+That he had discovered a _monster_ there--
+A _bird four-footed, and clothed with hair_!
+And had dashed his heel at the sight so odd,
+It looked, he thought, like a _heathen god_!
+
+The scuddling Chicks cried, "Peep, peep, peep!
+For Boss looks high, but not very deep!
+It is not a fowl! 'tis the worst of things,--
+low, mean beast, with the use of wings,
+So noiseless round on the air to skim,
+You know not when you are safe from him."
+
+There stood by, some of the bristly tribe,
+Who felt so touched by the peeper's gibe,
+Their backs were up; for they thought, at least,
+It aimed at them the _low, mean beast:_
+And they challenged Chick to her tiny face,
+In their sharp, high notes, and their awful base.
+
+Then old Chanticleer to his mount withdrew,
+And gave from his rostrum a loud halloo.
+He blew his clarion strong and shrill,
+Till he turned all eyes to his height, the hill;
+When he noised it round with his loudest crow,
+That 't was none of the _plumed_ ones brought so low.
+
+And, "Bow-wow-wow!" went the sentry Cur;
+But he soon strolled off in a grave demur,
+When he saw on the wonder, _hair_, like his,
+_Two ears_, and a kind of _doubtful phiz;_
+And he deemed it prudent to pause, and hark
+In silence, for fear that the sight might _bark_!
+
+At last came Puss, with a cautious pat
+To feel the pulse of the quivering Bat,
+That had not, under her tender paw,
+A limb to move, nor a breath to draw!
+Then she called her kit for a mother's gift,
+And stilled its mew with the racy lift.
+
+When Mole of the awful death was told,
+"Alas!" cried she, "he had grown too bold--
+Too vain and proud! Had he only kept,
+Like the _prudent Mole_, in his nest, and slept.
+Or worked underground, where none could see,
+He might have still been alive, like me!"
+
+While thus, so early the poor Bat died,
+A cry, that it was but the fall of pride,
+And signs of mirth, or of scorn, were all
+He had from those who beheld his fall.
+They each could triumph, and each condemn;
+But no kind pity was shown by them.
+
+And now, should we, as a mirror, place
+This story out for the world to face,
+How many, think you, would there perceive
+Likeness to children of Adam and Eve?
+
+
+
+
+=Idle Jack.=
+
+See mischievous and idle Jack!
+How fast he flies, nor dares look back!
+He seized Horatio's pretty cart,
+And broke and threw it part from part;
+The body here, and there the wheels;
+And now, by taking to his heels,
+He makes the Scripture proverb true,--
+_The wicked flee when none pursue._.
+
+Oh! Jack's a worthless, wicked boy,
+Who seems but evil to enjoy.
+He often racks his naughty brain
+Inventing ways of giving pain.
+He loves to torture butterflies--
+To dust the kitten's tender eyes--
+To break the cricket's slender limb;
+And pain to them is sport to him.
+
+He sometimes to your garden comes,
+To crush the flowers and steal the plums--
+The melons tries with thievish gripe,
+To find the one that's nearest ripe--
+His pocket fills with grapes or pears,
+No matter how their owner fares;
+When, by its lawless, robber track,
+You trace the foot of idle Jack.
+
+Whenever Jack is sent to school,
+He, playing truant, plays the fool:
+Or else he goes, with sloven looks
+And hands unclean, to spoil the books--
+To spill the ink, or make a noise,
+Disturbing good and studious boys;
+Till all who find what Jack's about
+Within the school, must wish him out.
+
+If ever Jack at church appears,
+He knows not, cares not, what he hears.
+While others to the word attend,
+He has a pencil-point to mend--
+An apple, or his nails to pare,
+Or cracks a nut in time of prayer,
+Till many wish that Jack would come,
+A better boy, or stay at home.
+
+In short, he shows, beyond a doubt,
+That, if he does not turn about,
+And mend his morals and his ways,
+He yet must come to evil days;
+And of a life of wasted time--
+Of idleness, and vice, and crime,
+To meet, perhaps, a felon's end,
+With neither man, nor God his friend.
+
+
+
+
+=David and Goliath=.
+
+Young David was a ruddy lad
+  With silken, sunny locks,
+The youngest son that Jesse had:
+  He kept his father's flocks.
+
+Goliath was a Philistine,
+  A giant, huge and high;
+He lifted, like a towering pine,
+  His head towards the sky.
+
+He was the foe of Israel's race.
+  A mighty warrior, too;
+And on he strode from place to place,
+  And many a man he slew.
+
+So Saul, the king of Israel then,
+  Proclaimed it to and fro,
+That most he'd favor of his men
+  The one, who'd kill the foe.
+
+Yet all, who saw this foe draw near,
+  Would feel their courage fail;
+For not an arrow, sword, or spear,
+  Could pierce the giant's mail.
+
+But Jesse's son conceived a way,
+  That would deliverance bring;
+Whereby he might Goliath slay,
+  And thus relieve the king.
+
+Then quick he laid his shepherd's crook
+  Upon a grassy bank;
+And off he waded in the brook
+  From which the lambkins drank.
+
+He culled and fitted to his sling
+  Five pebbles, smooth and round;
+And one of these he meant should bring
+  The giant to the ground.
+
+"I've killed a lion and a bear,"
+  Said he, "and now I'll slay
+The Philistine, and by the hair
+  I'll bring his head away!"
+
+Then onward to the battle-field
+  The youthful hero sped;
+He knew Goliath by his shield,
+  And by his towering head.
+
+But when, with only sling and staff,
+  The giant saw him come,
+In triumph he began to laugh;
+  Yet David struck him dumb.
+
+He fell! 'twas David's puny hand
+  That caused his overthrow!
+Though long the terror of the land,
+  A pebble laid him low.
+
+The blood from out his forehead gushed.
+  He rolled, and writhed, and roared:
+The little hero on him rushed,
+  And drew his ponderous sword.
+
+Before its owner's dying eye
+  He held the gleaming point
+Upon his throbbing neck to try;
+  Then severed cord and joint.
+
+He took the head, and carried it
+  And laid it down by Saul;
+And showed him where the pebble hit
+  That caused the giant's fall.
+
+The lad, who had Goliath slain
+  With pebbles and a sling,
+Was raised in after years to reign
+  As Israel's second king!
+
+'Twas not the courage, skill, or might
+  Which David had, alone,
+That helped him Israel's foe to fight
+  And conquer, with a stone.
+
+But, when the shepherd stripling went
+  The giant thus to kill,
+God used him as an instrument
+  His purpose to fulfil!
+
+
+
+
+=Escape of the Doves=.
+
+Come back, pretty Doves! O, come back from the tree.
+  You bright little fugitive things!
+We could not have thought you so ready and free
+  In using your beautiful wings.
+
+We didn't suppose, when we lifted the lid,
+  To see if you knew how to fly,
+You'd all flutter off in a moment, and bid
+  The basket for ever good-by!
+
+Come down, and we'll feast you on insects and seeds;--
+  You sha'nt have occasion to roam--
+We'll give you all things that a bird ever needs,
+  To make it contented at home.
+
+Then come, pretty Doves! O, return for our sakes,
+  And don't keep away from us thus;
+Or, when your old slumbering master awakes,
+  'Twill be a sad moment for us!
+
+"We can't!" said the birds, "and the basket may stand
+  A long time in waiting; for now
+You find out too late, that a bird in the hand
+  Is worth, at least, two on the bough.
+
+"And we, from our height, looking down on you there,
+  By experience taught to be sage,--
+Find, one pair of wings that are free in the air
+  Are worth two or three in the cage!
+
+"But when our old master awakes, and shall find
+  The work you have just been about,
+We hope, by the freedom we love, he'll be kind,
+  And spare you for letting us out.
+
+"We thank you for all the fine stories you tell,
+  And all the good things you would give;
+But think, since we're out, we shall do very well
+  Where nature designed us to live.
+
+"Whene'er you may think of the swift little wings
+  On which from your reach we have flown,
+No doubt, you'll beware, and not meddle with things,
+  In future, that are not your own."
+
+
+
+
+=Edward and Charles=.
+
+The brothers went out with the father to ride,
+Where they looked for the flowers, that, along the way-side,
+  So lately were blooming and fair;
+But their delicate heads by the frost had been nipped;
+Their stalks by the blast were all twisted and stripped;
+  And nothing but ruin was there.
+
+"Oh! how the rude autumn has spoiled the green hills!"
+Exclaimed little Charles, "and has choked the bright rills
+  With leaves that are faded and dead!
+The few on the trees are fast losing their hold.
+And leaving the branches so naked and cold.
+  That the beautiful birds have all fled."
+
+"I know," replied Edward, "the country has lost
+A great many charms by the touch of the frost,
+  Which used to appear to the eye;
+But then, it has opened the chestnut-burr too,
+The walnut released from the case where it grew;
+  And now our _Thanksgiving_ is nigh!
+
+"Oh! what do you think we shall do on that day?"
+"I guess," answered Charles, "we shall all go away
+  To Grandpa's; and there find enough
+Of turkeys, plum-puddings, and pies by the dozens,
+For Grandpa' and Grandma', aunts, uncles and cousins;
+  And at night we'll all play blind-man's-buff.
+
+"Perhaps we'll get Grandpa' to tell us some stories
+About the old times, with their _Whigs_ and their _Tories_;
+  And what sort of men they could be;
+When some spread their tables without any cloth,
+With basins and spoons, and the fuming bean-broth,
+  Which they took for their coffee and tea.
+
+"They'd queer kind of sights, I have heard Grandma' say,
+About in their streets; for, if not every day,
+  At least it was nothing uncommon,
+To see them pile on the poor back of one horse
+A saddle and _pillion_; and what was still worse,
+  Up mounted a man and a woman!
+
+"The lady held on by the driver; and so,
+Away about town at full trot would they go;
+  Or perhaps to a great country marriage,--
+To Thanksgiving-supper--to husking, or ball;
+Or quilting; for thus did they take nearly all
+  Their rides, on an _animal_ carriage!
+
+"I know not what _huskings_ and _quiltings_ maybe;
+But Grandma' will tell; and perhaps let us see
+  Some things she has long laid away:--
+That stiff damask gown, with its sharp-pointed waist,
+The hoop, the craped, cushion, and buckles of paste,
+  Which they wore in her grandparent's day.
+
+"She says they had buttons as large as our dollars,
+To wear on their coats with their square, standing collars;
+  And then, there's a droll sort of hat,
+Which Mary once fixed me one like, out of paper,
+And said she believed 'twas called _three-cornered scraper_;
+  Perhaps, too, she'll let us see that.
+
+"Oh! a glorious time we shall have! If they knew
+At the south, what it is, I guess they'd have one too;
+  But I have heard somebody say,
+That, there, they call all the New England folks _Bumpkins,_
+Because we eat puddings, and pies made of pumpkins,
+  And have our good Thanksgiving-day."
+
+"I think, brother Charles," returned Edward "at least,
+That they might go to church, if they don't like the feast;
+  For to me it is much the best part,
+To hear the sweet anthems of praise, that we give
+To Him, on whose bounty we constantly live:--
+  It is feasting the ear and the heart.
+
+"From Him, who has brought us another year round,
+Who gives every blessing, wherewith we are crowned,
+  Their gratitude who can withhold?
+And now how I wish I could know all the poor
+Their Thanksgiving-stores had already secure,
+  Their fuel, and clothes for the cold!"
+
+"I'm glad," said their father, "to hear such a wish;
+But wishes alone, can fill nobody's dish,
+  Or clothe them, or build them a fire.
+And now I will give you the money, my sons,
+Which I promised, you know, for your drum and your guns,
+  To spend in the way you desire."
+
+The brothers went home, thinking o'er by the way,
+For how many comforts this money might pay,
+  In something for clothing or food:
+At length they resolved, if their mother would spend it,
+For what she thought best, they would get her to send it
+  Where she thought it would do the most good.
+
+
+
+
+=The Mountain Minstrel=.
+
+On our mountain of Savoy,
+  In the shadow of a rock,
+Once I sat, a shepherd-boy,
+  Watching o'er my father's flock.
+
+We'd a happy cottage-home,
+  Peaceful as the sparrow's nest,
+Where, at evening, we could come
+  From our roamings to our rest.
+
+I'd a minstrel's voice and ear:
+  I could whistle, pipe and sing,
+While I roving, seemed to hear
+  Music stir in every thing.
+
+But misfortune, like a blast.
+  Swift upon my father rushed;
+From our dwelling we were cast--
+  At a stroke our peace was crushed.
+
+All we had was seized for debt:
+  In the sudden overthrow,
+Even my fond, fleecy pet,
+  My white cosset, too, must go.
+
+Then I wandered, sad and lone,
+  Where I'd once a flock to feed;
+All the treasure now my own
+  Was my simple pipe of reed.
+
+But a noble, pitying friend,
+  Who had seen me sadly stray,
+Made me to his lute attend;
+  And he taught me how to play.
+
+Then his lute to me he gave;
+  And abroad he bade me roam,
+Till the earnings I could save
+  Would redeem our cottage-home.
+
+Glad, his counsel straight I took--
+  I received his gift with joy;
+All my former ways forsook,
+  And became a minstrel-boy.
+
+With my mountain airs to sing,
+  Forward then I roamed afar,
+Sweeping still the tuneful string--
+Having hope my leading star.
+
+In the hamlets where I've gone,
+  Groups would gather--music-bound:
+In the cities I have drawn
+  List'ners till my hopes were crowned.
+
+Ever saving as I earned,
+  I of one dear object dreamed;
+To my mountain then returned,
+  And our cottage-home redeemed.
+
+Time has wiped away our tears;
+  Here we dwell together blest;
+All our sorrows, doubts and fears
+  I have played and sung to rest.
+
+Here my aged parents live
+  Free from want, and toil, and cares;
+All the bliss that earth can give
+  Deem they in this home of theirs.
+
+Life's night-shades fast o'er them creep;
+  All their wrongs have been forgiven--
+They have but to fall asleep
+  In their cot, to wake in heaven.
+
+Gentle friend, dost thou inquire
+  What's the lineage whence I came?
+Jesse is my shepherd sire--
+  David-Jesse is my name!
+
+
+
+
+=The Veteran and the Child=.
+
+"Come, grandfather, show how you carried your gun
+To the field, where America's freedom was won,
+Or bore your old sword, which you say was new then,
+When you rose to command, and led forward your men;
+And tell how you felt with the balls whizzing by,
+Where the wounded fell round you, to bleed and to die!"
+
+The prattler had stirred, in the veteran's breast,
+The embers of fire that had long been at rest.
+The blood of his youth rushed anew through his veins;
+The soldier returned to his weary campaigns;
+His perilous battles at once fighting o'er,
+While the soul of nineteen lit the eye of four-score.
+
+"I carried my musket, as one that must be
+But loosed from the hold of the dead, or the free!
+And fearless I lifted my good, trusty sword,
+In the hand of a mortal, the strength of the Lord!
+In battle, my vital flame freely I felt
+Should go, but the chains of my country to melt!
+
+"I sprinkled my blood upon Lexington's sod,
+And Charlestown's green height to the war-drum I trod.
+From the fort, on the Hudson, our guns I depressed,
+The proud coming sail of the foe to arrest.
+I stood at Stillwater, the Lakes and White Plains,
+And offered for freedom to empty my veins!
+
+"Dost now ask me, child, since thou hear'st here I've been,
+Why my brow is so furrowed, my locks white and thin--
+Why this faded eye cannot go by the line,
+Trace out little beauties, and sparkle like thine;
+Or why so unstable this tremulous knee,
+Who bore 'sixty years since,' such perils for thee?
+
+"What! sobbing so quick? are the tears going to start?
+Come! lean thy young head on thy grandfather's heart!
+It has not much longer to glow with the joy
+I feel thus to clasp thee, so noble a boy!
+But when in earth's bosom it long has been cold,
+A man, thou'lt recall, what, a babe, thou art told."
+
+
+
+
+=Captain Kidd=.
+
+There's many a one who oft has heard
+  The name of Robert Kidd,
+Who cannot tell, perhaps, a word
+  Of him, or what he did.
+
+So, though I never saw the man,
+  And lived not in his day;
+I'll tell you how his guilt began--
+  To what it paved the way.
+
+'Twas in New York Kidd had his home;
+  And there he left his wife
+And children, when he went to roam,
+  And lead a seaman's life.
+
+Now Robert had as firm a hand,
+  A heart as stern and brave,
+As ever met in one on land,
+  Or on the briny wave.
+
+'Twas in the third king William's time,
+  When many a pirate bold
+Committed on the seas the crime
+  Of shedding blood for gold.
+
+So Captain Kidd was singled out
+  As one devoid of fears,
+To take a ship and cruise about
+  Against the Bucaniers.
+
+The ship was armed with many a gun,
+  And manned with many a man,
+Across the southern seas to run
+  To foil the pirate's plan.
+
+But when she long, from isle to isle,
+  Without success had sailed,
+And made no capture all the while,
+  Her master's patience failed.
+
+The prizes he so oft had sought,
+  He found he sought in vain;
+And soon a wicked, bloody thought,
+  Came into Robert's brain!
+
+His mind he opened to his men;
+  And found his guilty crew
+Agreed with him, that they, from then,
+  Would all turn pirates too!
+
+He threw his Bible in the deep,
+  Defied its Author's will;
+And, with his conscience put to sleep,
+  Began to rob and kill.
+
+And now the desperado reigned,
+  A tyrant on the waves;
+While they whose blood his hands had stained,
+  Went down to watery graves.
+
+No merchant ship could near him go,
+  Which he would not annoy;
+For Kidd was passing to and fro,
+  And seeking to destroy.
+
+He seized the vessel, plunged the knife
+  Within the seamen's breast:
+And by a cruel waste of life,
+  His evil gains possessed.
+
+He then would make the nearest isle.
+  And go at night by stealth,
+To hide within the earth awhile
+  His last ill-gotten wealth.
+
+Thus, many a shining wedge of gold
+  This modern Achan hid;
+And many a frightful tale was told
+  About the pirate, Kidd.
+
+But Justice does not slumber long;
+  If slow, she's ever sure.
+There's none too artful, quick, or strong
+  For her to make secure!
+
+To Boston, with a brazen face,
+  The pirate boldly went,
+Where he was seized; and in disgrace
+  And chains, to England sent.
+
+The captain and his crew were there,
+  A solemn, fearful sight;
+Resigning life high up in air,
+  E'en at the gibbet's height!
+
+For many a year their bodies hung
+  Along the river side;
+As beacons, showing old and young
+  How they had lived and died.
+
+The wealth they hid was never found.
+  Though often sought of men.
+'Tis where they placed it in the ground,
+  Till they should come again!
+
+The earth has seemed by Heaven constrained.
+  The treasures to withhold
+That price of blood has none obtained,
+  Or used the pirate's gold!
+
+
+
+
+=The Dying Storm=.
+
+I am feeble, pale and weary,
+  And my wings are nearly furled.
+I have caused a scene so dreary,
+  I am glad to quit the world.
+While with bitterness I'm thinking
+  On the evil I have done,
+To my caverns deep I'm sinking
+  From the coming of the sun.
+
+Oh! the heart of man will sicken
+  In that pure and holy light,
+When he feels the hopes I've stricken
+  With an everlasting blight!
+For, so wildly in my madness
+  Have I poured abroad my wrath,
+I've been changing joy to sadness;
+  And with ruins strewed my path.
+
+Earth has shuddered at my motion:--
+  She my power in silence owns;
+While the troubled, roaring ocean
+  O'er my deeds of horror moans.
+I have sunk the dearest treasure--
+  I've destroyed the fairest form:
+Sadly have I filled my measure;
+  And I'm now a dying Storm!
+
+Yet, to man among the living,
+  With my final gasp and sigh,
+I, a solemn caution giving,
+  Fain would serve him while I die.
+Not like me, shall he, descending
+  Swift to death, from being cease.
+He's a spirit!--fleetly tending
+  To eternal pain or peace!
+
+
+
+
+=The Little Traveller=.
+
+I am the tiniest child of earth!
+  But still, I would like to be known to fame;
+Though next to nothing I had my birth,
+  And lowest of all in my lowly name.
+
+Yet, if so humble my native place,
+  This I can say, in family pride--
+That I'm of the world's most numerous race,
+  And made by the Maker of all beside.
+
+Although I'm so poor, I naught to lose;
+  Still I'm so little I can't be lost!
+I journey about, wherever I choose,
+  And those who carry me bear the cost.
+
+The most forgiving of earthly things,
+  I often cling to my deadly foe;
+And, spite of the cruellest flirts and flings,
+  Arise by the force that has cast me low.
+
+When beauty has trodden me under foot,
+  I've quietly risen, her face to seek,--
+Embraced her forehead, and calmly put
+  Myself to rest in her dimpled cheek.
+
+I've ridden to war on the soldier's plume;
+  But startled and sprung, at the wild affray,--
+The sights of horror--of fire and fume;
+  And fled on the wings of the wind away.
+
+I've visited courts, and been ushered in
+  By the proudest guest of the stately scene;
+I've touched his majesty's bosom-pin,
+  And the nuptial ring of his lofty queen.
+
+At the royal board, in the grand parade,
+  I've oft been one familiar and free:
+The fairest lady has smiled, and laid
+  Her delicate, gloveless hand on me.
+
+Philosopher, poet, the learned, the sage,
+  Never declines a call from me;
+And all, of every rank and age.
+  Admit me into their _coteri_.
+
+I visit the lions of every where,
+  If human, or brute, and can testify
+To what they do, to what they wear,
+  To wonders none ever beheld but I!
+
+And now, reviewing the things I've done,
+  Forgetting my name, my rank and birth,
+I begin to think I am number ONE,
+  Of the great and manifold things of earth.
+
+I've still much more, I yet might tell,
+  Which modesty bids me here withhold;
+For fear with my travels I seem to swell,
+  Or grow, for an ATOM OF DUST, too bold!
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+BY SUSAN PINDAR. =Now ready, a New Edition=.
+
+=FIRESIDE FAIRIES; OR, CHRISTMAS AT AUNT ELSIE'S.=
+
+Beautifully illustrated, with Original Designs. 1 vol. 12mo. 75 cts.,
+gilt ed. $1.
+
+_Contents_.
+
+The Two Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless. The Minute Fairies. I
+Have and O Had I. The Hump and Long Nose. The Lily Fairy and the Silver
+Beam. The Wonderful Watch. The Red and White Rose Trees. The Diamond
+Fountain. The Magical Key.
+
+Though this is a small book, it is, mechanically, exceedingly beautiful,
+being illustrated with spirited woodcuts from Original Designs. But that
+is its least merit. It is one of the most entertaining, and decidedly
+one of the best juveniles that have issued from the prolific press of
+this city. We speak advisedly. It is long since we found time to read
+through a juvenile book, so near Christmas, when the name of this class
+of volumes is legion; but this charmed us so much that we were unwilling
+to lay it down after once commencing it. The first story,--"The Two
+Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless,"--is a sweet thing, as is also
+the one entitled, "The Diamond Fountain." Indeed, the whole number, and
+there are ten, will be read with avidity. Their moral is as pure as
+their style is enchanting.--_Com. Adv_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+D. Appleton & Co. have just ready,
+
+A NEW UNIFORM SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. BY AMEREL.
+
+COMPRISING
+
+I. CHRISTMAS STORIES, for Good Children. Illustrated. 16mo. II. WINTER
+HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illustrated. 16mo. III. THE SUMMER
+HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illus. 16mo. IV. GEORGE'S ADVENTURES IN
+THE COUNTRY. Illus. 16mo. V. THE CHILD'S STORY BOOK. A Holiday Gift.
+Illus. 16mo. VI. THE LITTLE GIFT-BOOK. For Good Boys and Girls. Illus.
+16mo.
+
+
+
+
+NEW ILLUSTRATED JUVENILES.
+
+AUNT FANNY'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated. 16mo. $ 50
+
+THE CHILD'S PRESENT. Illustrated. 16mo.
+
+HOWITT'S PICTURE AND VERSE BOOK. Illustrated with 100 plates. 75 cts.;
+gilt 1 00
+
+HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. Illustrated. 4to., 25 cts.; cloth 50
+
+STORY OF JOAN OF ARC. By R.M. Evans. With 23 illustrations. 16mo. 75
+
+ROBINSON CRUSOE. Pictorial Edition. 300 plates. 8vo. 1 50
+
+THE CARAVAN; A COLLECTION OF TALES AND STORIES FROM THE GERMAN.
+Translated by G.P. Quackenboss. Illustrated by Orr. 16mo.
+
+INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. By Mrs. Colman. Illustrated 50
+
+HOME RECREATIONS, comprising Travels and Adventures, &c. Colored
+Illustrations. 16mo. 87
+
+FIRESIDE FAIRIES. A New Story Book. My Miss Susan Pindar. Finely
+Illustrated. 16mo.
+
+STORY OF LITTLE JOHN. Trans, from the French. Illus. 62
+
+LIVES AND ANECDOTES OF ILLUSTRIOUS MEN. 16mo. 75
+
+UNCLE JOHN'S PANORAMIC PICTURE BOOKS. Six kinds, 25 cts. each;
+half-cloth 50
+
+HOLIDAY HOUSE. Tales, by Catherine Sinclair. Illustrated 75
+
+PUSS IN BOOTS. Finely illus. by O. Speckter. 50c.; ex. glt. 75
+
+TALES AND STORIES for Boys and Girls. By Mary Howitt 75
+
+AMERICAN HISTORICAL TALES for Youth. 16mo. 75
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LIBRARY FOR MY YOUNG COUNTRYMEN.
+
+ADVENTURES of Captain John Smith. By the Author of Uncle Philip 38
+
+ADVENTURES of Daniel Boon. By do. 38
+
+DAWNINGS of Genius. By Anne Pratt. 38
+
+LIFE and Adventures of Henry Hudson. By the Author of Uncle Philip. 38
+
+LIFE and Adventures of Herman Cortez. By do. 38
+
+PHILIP RANDOLPH. A Tale of Virginia. By Mary Gertrude. 38
+
+ROWAN'S History of the French Revolution. 2 vols. 75
+
+SOUTHEY'S Life of Cromwell. 38
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TALES FOR THE PEOPLE AND THEIR CHILDREN.
+
+ALICE FRANKLIN. By Mary Howitt. 38
+
+LOVE AND MONEY. By do. 38
+
+HOPE ON, HOPE EVER! Do. 38
+
+LITTLE COIN, MUCH CARE. By do. 38
+
+MY OWN STORY. By do. 38
+
+MY UNCLE, THE CLOCKMAKER. By do. 38
+
+NO SENSE LIKE COMMON SENSE. By do. 38
+
+SOWING AND REAPING. Do. 38
+
+STRIVE AND THRIVE. By do. 38
+
+THE TWO APPRENTICES. By do. 38
+
+WHICH IS THE WISER? Do. 38
+
+WHO SHALL BE GREATEST? By do. 38
+
+WORK AND WAGES. By do. 38
+
+CROFTON BOYS, The. By Harriet Martineau. 38
+
+DANGERS OF DINING OUT By Mrs. Ellis. 38
+
+FIRST IMPRESSIONS. By do. 38
+
+MINISTER'S FAMILY. By do. 38
+
+SOMMERVILLE HALL. By do. 38
+
+DOMESTIC TALES. By Hannah More. 2 vols.... 75
+
+EARLY FRIENDSHIP. By Mrs. Copley. 38
+
+FARMER'S DAUGHTER, The By Mrs. Cameron. 38
+
+LOOKING-GLASS FOR THE MIND. Many plates. 45
+
+MASTERMAN READY. By Capt. Marryat. 3 vols. 2
+
+PEASANT AND THE PRINCE. By H. Martineau. 38
+
+POPLAR GROVE. By Mrs. Copley. 38
+
+SETTLERS IN CANADA. By Capt. Marryatt. 2 vols. 75
+
+TIRED OF HOUSEKEEPING. By T.S. Arthur. 38
+
+TWIN SISTERS, The. By Mrs. Sandham. 38
+
+YOUNG STUDENT. By Madame Guizot. 3 vols. 1 12
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SECOND SERIES.
+
+CHANCES AND CHANGES. By Charles Burdett. 38
+
+NEVER TOO LATE. By do. 38
+
+GOLDMAKERS VILLAGE. By R. Zschokke. 38
+
+OCEAN WORK, ANCIENT AND MODERN. By J.H. Wright. 38
+
+THE MISSION; or, Scenes in Africa By Capt. Marryatt. 2 vols. 75
+
+STORY OF A GENIUS
+
+TEXT BOOKS
+
+_FOR LEARNING THE FRENCH, GERMAN ITALIAN AND SPANISH LANGUAGES._
+
+I FRENCH.
+
+COLLOT'S Dramatic French Reader. 12mo. $1.
+
+DE FIVA'S Elementary French Reader. 12mo. 50 cts.
+
+DE FIVA'S Classic French Reader for Advanced Students. 12mo. $1.
+
+OLLENDORFF'S Elementary French Grammar. By Greene. 16mo. 38 cts. with
+Key, 50 cts.
+
+OLLENDORFF'S New Method of Learning French. Edited by J.L. Jewett 12mo.
+$1.
+
+KEY to ditto. 75 cts.
+
+ROWAN'S Modern French Reader. 12mo. 75 cts.
+
+SURRENNE'S French Pronouncing Dictionary. 12mo. $1 50.
+
+VALUE'S New and Easy System of Learning French. 12mo. (_In Press._)
+
+NEW and COMPLETE FRENCH and ENGLISH DICTIONARY. 1 vol. 8vo To match
+Adler's German Lexicon. (_In Press_.)
+
+II. GERMAN.
+
+ADLER'S Progressive German Reader. 12mo. $1.
+
+GERMAN and English, and English and German Dictionary, compiled from the
+best authorities. 1 vol. large 8vo. $5.
+
+EICHORN'S New Practical German Grammar. 12mo. $1.
+
+OLLENDORFF'S New Method of Learning German. Edited by G.J. Adler 12mo.
+$1 50.
+
+III. ITALIAN.
+
+FORESTT'S Italian Reader. 12mo. $1.
+
+OLLENDORFF'S New Method of Learning Italian. Edited by F. Forestt 12mo.
+$1 50.
+
+KEY to ditto 75 cts.
+
+IV. SPANISH.
+
+OLLENDORFF'S New Method of Learning Spanish. By M. Velasquez and T
+Simonne 12mo. $1 50.
+
+KEY to ditto, 75 cts.
+
+PALENZUELA'S new Grammar on the Ollendorff System, for Spaniards to
+Learn English. (_In Press_.)
+
+VELASQUEZ'S New Spanish Reader. With Lexicon. 12mo. $1 25.
+
+VELASQUEZ'S New Spanish Phrase Book; or Conversations in English and
+Spanish. 18mo. 38 cts.
+
+VELASQUEZ'S and SLOANE'S New Spanish and English, and English and
+Spanish Dictionary. Large 8vo. To match "Adler's German Lexicon." (_In
+Press_.)
+
+COLLEGE AND SCHOOL TEXT-BOOKS.
+
+I. GREEK AND LATIN.
+
+ARNOLD'S First and Second Latin Book and Practical Grammar. 12mo....
+8.75
+
+ARNOLD'S Latin Prose Composition. 12mo.... 1.00
+
+ARNOLD'S Cornelius Nepos. With Notes. 12mo.... 1.00
+
+ARNOLD'S First Greek Book....62
+
+ARNOLD'S Greek Prose Composition. 12mo.....75
+
+ARNOLD'S Greek Reading Book. Edited by Spencer. 12mo.... 1.50
+
+BEZA'S Latin Testament. 12mo.....63
+
+BOISE'S Exercises in Greek Prose Composition. 12mo.....75
+
+CAESAR'S Commentaries. Notes by Spencer. 12mo.... 1.00
+
+CICERO'S Select Orations. Notes by Johnson. 12mo.
+
+CICERO De Senectute and De Amicitia. Notes by Johnson. 12mo. (_In
+Press_.)
+
+CICERO De Officius. Notes by Thatcher. 12mo.
+
+HORACE, with Notes by Lincoln. 12mo. (_In Press_.)
+
+LIVY, with Notes by Lincoln. 12mo ... 1.00
+
+SALLUST, with Notes by Butler. 12mo. (_In Press_.)
+
+TACITUS'S Histories. Notes by Tyler. 12mo.... 1.25
+
+---- Germania and Agricola. Notes by Tyler. 12mo.....62
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+II. HEBREW.
+
+WESENIUS'S Hebrew Grammar. Edited by Rodiger. Translated from the best
+German edition, by Conant. 8vo.... 2.00
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+III. ENGLISH.
+
+ARNOLD'S Lectures on Modern History. 12mo.... 1.25
+
+BOJESON and Arnold's Manual of Greek and Roman Antiquities. 12mo ...
+1.00
+
+CROSBY'S First Lessons in Geometry. 12mo.....38
+
+CHARE'S Treatise on Algebra. 12mo.... 1.00
+
+EVERETT'S System of English Versification. 12mo.
+
+GRAHAM'S English Synonymes. Edited by Professor Reed, of Pa. University.
+12mo....
+
+GUIZOT'S History of Civilization. Notes by Professor Henry, of N.Y.
+University. 12mo.... 1.00
+
+HOWS' Shaksper. Reader. 12mo.... 1.25
+
+JAGER'S Class Book of Zoology. 18mo.....42
+
+KEIGHTLEY'S Mythology Greece and Rome. 18mo.
+
+MAGNALL'S Histor. Questions. With American additions. 12mo. 1.00
+
+MARKHAM'S School History of England. Edited by Eliza Robins, author of
+"Popular Lessons." 12mo.....75
+
+MANDEVILLE'S Series of School Readers:
+---- Part I.....10
+---- Part II.... 16
+---- Part III.....28
+---- Part IV.....38
+---- Course of Reading for Common Schools and Lower Academies. 12mo.....75
+---- Elements of Reading and Oratory. 8vo.... 1 00
+
+PUTZ and ARNOLD'S Manual of Ancient Geography and History. 12mo.... 1.00
+
+REID'S Dictionary of the English Language, with Derivations, &c.
+12mo.... 1.00
+
+SEWELL'S First History of Rome. 16mo.....60
+
+TAYLOR'S Manual of Modern and Ancient History. Edited by Professor
+Henry. 8vo., cloth or sheep.... 1.60
+
+TAYLOR'S Ancient History. Separate. ....26
+
+TAYLOR'S Modern ditto....
+
+WRIGHT'S Primary Lessons; or Child's First Book....12
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In Press.
+
+GREEN'S (Professor) Manual of the Geography and History of the Middle
+Ages. 12mo.
+
+BURNHAM'S New Mental and Written Arithmetic.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11432 ***