I've seen the freakish squirrels drop
Down from their leafy tree;
The little squirrels with the old-
Great joy it was to me!

And down unto the running brook
I've seen them nimbly go;

And the bright water seemed to speak

A welcome kind and low.

The nodding plants they bowed their heads,
As if, in heartsome cheer,

They spake unto those harmless things,
""Tis merry living here."

Oh, how my heart ran o'er with joy!
I saw that all was good,

And how we might glean up delight

All round us, if we would!

And many a wood-mouse dwelleth there,
Beneath the old wood-shade,

And all day long has work to do,

Nor is of aught afraid.

The green shoots grow above their heads,
And roots so fresh and fine

Beneath their feet, nor is there strife
'Mongst them for mine and thine.

There is enough for every one,
And they lovingly agree;

We might learn a lesson, all of us,
Beneath the green-wood tree!

Mary Howitt.

Every little mite,

Every little measure,

Helps to spread the light,

Helps to swell the treasure.-Edmeston.

THE GARDEN.

I HAD a garden when a child;
I kept it all in order!

'Twas full of flowers as it could be,
And London Pride was its border.

And soon as came the pleasant Spring,
The singing birds built in it;
The Blackbird and the Throstle-cock,
The Woodlark and the Linnet.

And all within my garden ran
A labyrinth-walk so mazy ;

In the middle there grew a yellow Rose;
At each end a Michaelmas Daisy.

I had a tree of Southernwood,
And two of bright Mezereon;
A Peony root, a snow-white Phlox,
And a bunch of red Valerian;

A Lilac-tree and a Guelder Rose,
A Broom and a Tiger Lily,

And I walked a dozen miles to find
The true wild Daffodilly.

I had Columbines, both pink and blue,

And Thalictrum like a feather;

And the bright Goat's Beard, that shuts its leaves Before a change of weather.

I had Marigolds, and Gilliflowers,
And Pinks all pinks exceeding ;
I'd a noble root of Love-in-a-mist,
And plenty of Love-lies-bleeding.

H

I'd Jacob's Ladder, Aaron's Rod,
And the Peacock Gentianella;
I had Asters, more than I can tell,
And Lupins blue and yellow.

I set a grain of Indian Corn,
One day in an idle humour,

And the grain sprang up six feet or more,
My glory for a summer.

I found far off in the pleasant fields

More flowers than I can mention;

I found the English Asphodel,

And the Spring and Autumn Gentian.

I found the Orchis, fly and bee,

And the Cistus of the mountain;

The Moneywort, and the green Hart's Tongue, Beside an old wood fountain.

I found within another wood

The rare Pyrola blowing:

For wherever there was a curious flower,
I was sure to find it growing.

I set them in my garden beds,
Those beds I loved so dearly,

Where I laboured after set of sun,

And in summer mornings early.

O my pleasant garden-plot!-
A shrubbery was beside it,

And an old and mossy Apple-tree,

With a Woodbine wreathed to hide it.

There was a bower in my garden-plot,
A Spirea grew before it ;

Behind it was a Laburnum-tree,

And a wild Hop clambered o'er it.

Ofttimes I sat within my bower,

Like a king in all his glory:
Ofttimes I read, and read for hours,
Some pleasant, wondrous story.

I read of gardens in old times,
Old, stately gardens, kingly,
Where people walked in gorgeous crowds,
Or for silent musing, singly.

I raised up visions in my brain,
The noblest and the fairest ;
But still I loved my garden best,
And thought it far the rarest.

And all among my flowers I walked,
Like a miser 'mid his treasure :
For that pleasant plot of garden ground
Was a world of endless pleasure. Mary Howitt.

BRUCE AND THE SPIDER.

FOR Scotland's and for Freedom's right,
The Bruce his part had played,

In five successive fields of fight
Been conquered and dismayed:
Once more against the English host
His band he led, and once more lost
The meed for which he fought;
And now from battle, faint and worn,
The homeless fugitive forlorn

A hut's lone shelter sought.

And cheerless was that resting-place
For him who claimed a throne:

His canopy, devoid of grace,
The rude, rough beams alone;