THE LITTLE GRAVES.

IT'S only a little grave," they said,

"Only just a child that's dead;

And so they carelessly turned away

From the mound the spade had made that day.
Ah! they did not know how deep a shade
That little grave in our home had made.

I know the coffin was narrow and small,
One yard would have served for an ample pall;
And one man in his arms could have borne away
The rosewood and its freight of clay.

But I know that darling hopes were hid
Beneath that little coffin-lid.

I know that mother stood that day
With folded hands by that form of clay;
I know that burning tears were hid
"'Neath the drooping lash and aching lid;"
And I know her lip, and cheek, and brow,
Were almost as white as her baby's now.

I know that some things were hid away,
The crimson frock, and wrappings gay;
The little sock, and the half-worn shoe,
The cap with its plumes and tassels blue;
And an empty crib, with its covers spread,
As white as the face of the sinless dead.

'Tis a little grave; but, oh! have care!
For world-wide hopes are buried there;
And ye, perhaps, in coming years,
May see, like her, through blinding tears,
How much of light, how much of joy,
Is buried up with an only boy!

TE

PSALM OF LIFE.

NELL me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us further than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums are beating Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead:
Act,- act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

A

THE MIMIC.

MIMIC I knew, who, to give him his due,

Was exceeded by none and was equalled by few.

He could bark like a dog; he could grunt like a hog; Nay, I really believe he could croak like a frog.

Then, as for a bird, - you may trust my word,
'Twas the best imitation that ever I heard.

It must be confessed that he copied birds best;
You'd have thought he had lived all his life in a nest.
It happened, one day, that he came in the way
Of a sportsman, an excellent marksman, they say.

--

And near a stone-wall, with his little bird-call,
The mimic attempted to imitate all.

So well did he do it, the birds all flew to it;
But, ah! he had certainly reason to rue it.

It turned out no fun, the man with the gun,
Who was seeking for partridges, took him for one.
He was shot in the side; and he feelingly cried,
A moment or so and he fainted and died:

"Who for others prepare a trap, should beware
They do not themselves fall into the snare."

THE BOTANY LESSON.

[Five girls, Anna, Nelly, Jenny, Kate, and Mary. Anna has flowers in a basket: lilies, roses, violets, buttercups, and daisies.]

A

NNA.

We've had lessons about the parts of flowers. Let's play at Botany a little, for review. Who'll take the roses?"

Nelly. I will. Here Jenny, you want the lilies, don't you? Jenny. Yes, I like those. The parts are big enough so I can see them.

Anna. Who'll have the violets?

Nelly. Oh, give those to Kate. They're small, and her eyes are sharp.

Anna. Here they are, Kate. Now, Mary, which will you have, buttercups or daisies? Buttercups? I'm daisies, then, of course.

Kate. I've read that the rose is the queen of flowers; so, Nelly, you must begin.

Nelly. Well, then, calyxes first. Mary, you haven't said a word; tell us what a calyx is.

Mary. The calyx is the outer part of the flower; it is generally green, and covers the bud. It is often divided into parts, called sepals.

Nelly. Said like a book. Now, I'll illustrate. Here is the calyx of my rose. It has five parts, each a little feathery at the end [picking them off]; five sepals, you see.

Jenny. The lilies have no calyx, but the teacher says these three outer leaves, though colored, answer for one, and the lilies get on very well without any green cloaks to hide their dresses in.

Kate. Nonsense! they'd be glad enough to have calyxes. See my violets. What a nice little wrapper covers the buds, and then opens to let the flower out; five parted, too, and the parts turn forward in points, and backward like a ruffle. Mary. The buttercups have five little hairy sepals, so small you can hardly see them.

Anna. The daisy calyx is the most curious of all. There are half a hundred pieces lapping over each other like scales. The daisy is very different from your flowers.

Jenny. Of course 't is. But I want to get to corollas. How I do like that name! Mary, my buttercup, what is a corolla ?

Mary. The part of the flower next inside the calyx is the corolla. It is generally of some other color than green, and its parts are petals. This corolla has five petals, cach with a little claw at the end.

Nelly. These roses have a great many petals, but you know that only single flowers are good to study from. Here is one single rose. This has five petals, claws and all.

Jenny. Well, you'll agree that lily corollas are splendid. They have six petals. And there are so many kinds of lilies; garden, meadow, wood, and day lilies; lilies from Japan and Mexico; lilies red, yellow, white, and blue. You never saw a blue rose or a red violet; and the shapes are so curious; sometimes the petals almost form a tube; or they are like a cup; or they roll back the oddest way to show the spotted lining.

Anna. Out of breath, ar'n't you, Jenny? Now please to consider the daisy, “day's eye," it is. It is quite as curious as its neighbors. Instead of only one flower coming out of the scaly calyx, each of these white parts or rays, and each of these little yellow tubes that I pull out of the middle, is a flower by itself. And if you take all the asters and dahlias and sunflowers and dandelions, that are like it, you will get quite a variety of color and shape among them. But I'm out of breath. Go on, Kate.

Kate. Violet corollas have five petals, but they are not of the same size, shape, or color. This lower one is broad, and has five dark veins; then come two small ones that match each other; then two larger and of a different color. See what a bright look their faces have with these yellow eyes in them.

Nelly. Oh, we could go on all day about corollas; but we have got stamens and pistils to look after. Mary, you are the dictionary.

Mary. So it seems, and I'll tell you this time. The stamens are slender little parts that come next within the corolla,