BYE-AND-BYE.

HERE is music enough in these three words for

the burden of a song. There is hope wrapped up in them, an articulate beat of the human heart. Bye-and-bye!

We heard it as long ago as we can remember, when we made brief but perilous journeys from chair to table, and from table to chair again.

We heard it the other day, when two parted that had been "loving in their lives," one to California, and the other to her her lonely home.

Everybody says it-sometime or another. The little boy whispers it when he dreams of exchanging the little stub shoes for boots like those of his father.

The man murmurs it - when in life's middle watch, he sees his plans half finished, and his hopes yet in the bud, waving in the cold late spring.

The old man says it—when he thinks of putting off the mortal for the immortal, to-day for to-morrow. 'The weary watcher for the morning, whiles away the dark with "bye-and-bye."

Sometimes it sounds like a song; sometimes there is a sigh or sob in it. What wouldn't the world give to find it in almanacs-set down somewhere no matter, if in the dead of December-to know that it would surely come. But fairy-like as it is, flitting like a star-beam over the dewy shadows of years, nobody can spare it, and we look upon the many times these words have beguiled us.

Around, within, above,
When the lips speak kindness,
And the heart breathes love.
Love is made of sunshine,
Kindness is all light,
These make joy of sorrow,
Noon-day of deep night.

OUR SCHOOL-TIME HOURS.
THOUGH summer's golden days are gone,
And autumn's fruits and flowers,
We still have sunshine glowing here.
Around our school-time hours.
And though we loved the pearly things,
That gem'd the gay green sod,
'Tis here we learn that like ourselves,
Their beauty comes from God.

He gives the winds and streams their songs,
And in his goodness weaves.

O'er fragrant fields, and forest glades.

Their bright-hued robes of leaves; And there he gives our young

hearts joy,

Among their rich sweet scenes;
But here we learn in school-time hours,
What all this goodness means.

We love the smiles he spreads o'er earth,

For this to all they teach,

If earth is fair, how fairer far,

Those realms we mean to reach.

We thank him, then, for school-time hours,

And for the Sabbaths given,

And for their truths that lift our hearts

From earth's joys up to heaven;

66

OOD-NIGHT!" A loud, clear voice from the stairs said that-it was Tommy's. "Doodnight!" murmurs a little something from the trundle-bed a little something we call Jenny, that filled a large place in the centre of one or two pretty large hearts. "Good-night!" lisps a little fellow in a plain rifle dress, who was christened Willie about six years ago.