Away to the wood again flew he,
And soon he espied the slanting tree,
And Jack, who stood laughing with all his might,
His axe in his hand - he laughed for spite;
In triumph he laughed, and took up a stone,
And hammered his axe-head faster on;
"Croak, croak!" came the carrion crow,
Flapping his wings with a motion slow;
"Thwack, thwack!" the spiteful man,
When he heard his cry, with his axe began;
Thwack, thwack!" stroke upon stroke;
The crow flew by with a "Croak, croak!"
With a "Croak, croak!" again he came,
Just as the house burst into flame.
With a splitting crash, and a crackling sound,
Down came the tree unto the ground;
The old crow's nest afar was swung,

And the young ones here and there were flung;
And just at that moment came up a cry,
"Oh Jack, make haste, or else we die;
The house is on fire, consuming all,

Make haste, make haste, ere the roof-tree fall!"
The young crows every one were dead;
But the old crow croaked above his head;
And the mother-crow on Jack she springs,
And flaps in his face her great, black wings;
And all the while he hears a wail,
That turns his cheek from red to pale-
"T was wife and children standing there
Wringing their hands and tearing their hair!
"Oh woe, our house is burnt to cinder,
Bedding and clothes all turned to tinder;
Down to the very hearth-stone clean,
Such a dismal ruin ne'er was seen:

"What shall we do? - where must we go?"

THERE is a town in Staffordshire,

That I was born and bred in,

And dear May Fair can make it gayer
Than even a royal wedding..

Come, I'll live over my youth again;
Life has enough of sorrow;
From by-gone things we 'll mirth obtain,
And think of care to-morrow.

Come, we 'll be drest in all our best;
For hark, the bells are ringing;
And there's no sign of rain to-day,
And all the birds are singing.

With happy folks beside us then,

Their smiles like summer weather; See how the women and the men Come trooping in together.

And some come with a hobbling gait,
And some come tripping proudly,
And some come looking quite sedate,
And some come laughing loudly.

All come that can; each farming man
His best blue coat is wearing,
And cart and gig, and shandry-dan,
Bring fine folks to the fair in.

And little lads, brimful of glee,

With hands their pockets thrust in ; And trowsers turned up neatly, see,

To keep their shoes from dusting.

Now crowd they all amid the rout,
As full of mirth as any,
Each looking eagerly about

To spend his fairing penny.
And this will buy a cow and calf-

But this of cakes is fonder;
And these will go to see the Dwarf,

And those the Giant yonder.

And roving round, see happy folks,

With sunny, country faces;
Some cracking nuts, some cracking jokes,
Some wearing modish graces.

And just peep on the bowling-green,
What capering and what prancing;
He's fiddling there a merry air,

To the merry people dancing!
Now, see those girls with one accord,
Around that booth are staring;
And many a lad has spent his hoard,
To buy a handsome fairing.

See, some give ribbons red and blue,
And some give green and yellow;
And some give rings and brooches too,
To show a generous fellow.

Now hushed is every laugh and joke,

To hear a sailor singing,

How "Poll of Plymouth's" heart was broke,
And "Monmouth's bells were ringing."

And then how brave "Tom Tough," d' ye see,
Brought to the Frenchmen ruin;
Of "Barbara Allen's cruelty,"
And "Crazy Jane's" undoing.

But ere he has the next begun,

See, round all eyes are glancing
He stands alone, for all are gone
To see the dogs a-dancing!

Ha! there they are- why what a crowd!
And what a deafening racket!

Well may they stare, for there's a bear,
And monkey in a jacket!

THE LITTLE MARINER.

Ay, sitting on your happy hearths, beside your mother's knee,

How should you know the miseries and dangers of

the sea!

My father was a mariner, and from my earliest years, I can remember, night and day, my mother's prayers

and tears.

I can remember how she sighed when blew the stormy gale;

And how for days she stood to watch the long-expect. ed sail:

Hers was a silent, patient grief; but fears and long delay,

And wakeful nights and anxious days were wearing her away.

And when the gusty winds were loud, and autumn leaves were red,

I watched, with heavy heart, beside my mother's dying bed;

Just when her voice was feeblest, the neighbours came to say,

The ship was hailed an hour before, and then was in the bay.

at cricket. I-I am proud to say, got the bow and arrows-the finest things that ever were seen! and they have won me, since then, the prize-arrow at Lady -'s archery meeting. The prize for rowing was gained by the young gentlemen of the Sylph, and was a set of models of the progress of shipbuilding, from the Egyptian raft of reeds, up to an English man-of-war. The young gentlemen of the Sylph drew for it, and it fell by lot to George Nugent; and with this every one was satisfied; for he is a general favourite.

All this I would have told in rhyme, that it might have matched my cousin's letter, but I am a bad hand at verse-making. BEN.

The boy went to the sea, and Alice
In a sweet dale, by Simmer Water.
Where dwelled her parents, there dwelt she
With a poor peasant's family,

And was among them as a daughter.

Each day she did her household part,

Singing like some light-hearted bird;
Or sate upon the lonely fells
Whole days among the heather-bells,
To keep the peasant's little herd.

Poor Alice, she was kind and good;

Yet oft upon the mountains lone
Her heart was sad, and 'mong the sheep,
When no eye saw her, she would weep
For many sorrows of her own.

Sweet maiden-and she yet must weep.
Her brother meantime far away
Sailed in that ship so stout and good,
With hopeful spirit unsubdued,

Beyond the farthest northern bay.

The voyage was good, his heart was light; He loved the sea, and now once more He sailed upon another trip

With the same captain, the same ship

In the glad spring, for Elsinore.

Again, unto the Bothnian Gulf

But 't was a voyage of wreck and sorrow; The captain died upon the shore Where he was cast, and twenty more

Were left among the rocks of Snorro.

And there within a hospital

Fevered he lay, and worn and weak, Bowed with great pain, a stranger lad, Who not a friend to soothe him had,

And not a word of Russ could speak.
Amid that solitude and pain

He begged some paper and he wrote
To Alice; 't was a letter long, —
But then he used his English tongue,
And every sorrow he poured out.

Poor Alice! did she weep?-ah yes,
She wept, indeed, one live-long day;
But then her heart was strong and true,
And calmly thus she spoke :-"I too
Will go to Riga Bay!"

"To that wild place!" the people said,
"Where none can English understand?

Oh! go not there- depend upon t,
He's dead ere now- he does not want
Your aid leave not your native land!"