SWALLOWS.

OVER city, and village, and spire,
Over streets that look like streaks of fire,
With all their blazing lines of gas;
Over vast pathless swamps we pass,
Over the mountain, over the sea,
Through rain and sunshine, away go we.
No matter whether 'tis dark or light,
We fly by day, we fly by night;
The sea may roar, the wind may blow,
We can fly high, or we can fly low.
Sometimes when earth doth clouded lie,
We're soaring above in a sunny sky;
Sometimes through earth when wild winds roar,
We high above in calm air soar;
High above, in a sky as blue

As ever Summer overhead threw.

And when aloft the black clouds frown

We find it clearer lower down.

And so go on our way together,

Dodging the wind and watching the weather.
There's nothing to run against in the sky,
No stoppage nor toll-gate where we fly.

You may boast about liberty,
Would you enjoy it, fly with me;
Look at the space spread every way,
Broad and open as the day.

Millions of miles around the earth,

Where Morn and Evening have birth,
We in our upward flight descry,
And thitherward we often fly;
Space beyond space we trembling see,
Still stretching out eternally.

Thomas Miller.

THE CHILD'S WISH IN JUNE.
MOTHER, mother, the winds are at play,
Prithee let me be idle to-day.

Look, dear mother, the flowers all lie
Languidly under the bright blue sky.

See how slowly the streamlet glides;
Look how the violet roguishly hides;
Even the butterfly rests on the rose,
And scarcely sips the sweets as he goes.

Poor Tray is asleep in the noonday sun,
And the flies go about him one by one;
And Pussy sits near, with a sleepy grace,
Without ever thinking of washing her face.

There flies a bird to a neighbouring tree,

But very lazily flieth he;

And he sits and twitters a gentle note
That scarcely ruffles his little throat.

You bid me be busy; but, mother, hear

How the humdrum grasshopper soundeth near;
And the soft west wind is so light in its play,
It scarcely moves a leaf on the spray.

I wish, oh, I wish I were yonder cloud,
That sails about with its misty shroud!
Books and work I no more should see,

But I'd come and float, dear mother, o'er thee.

MARY'S LAMB.

MARY had a little lamb,

Its fleece was white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go.

Mrs. Gilman.

He followed her to school one day-
That was against the rule;

It made the children laugh and play
To see a lamb at school.

So the teacher turned him out;
But still he lingered near,
And waited patiently about
Till Mary did appear.

And then he ran to her, and laid
His head upon her arm,

As if he'd say "I'm not afraid;
You'll keep me from all harm."

"What makes the lamb love Mary so?"
The eager children cry ;-
"Oh, Mary loves the lamb, you know,"
The teacher did reply:

"And you each gentle animal

In confidence may bind,

And make them follow at your call,
If you are always kind.”

THE WATCHMAN'S SONG.

[The watchmen in Germany amuse themselves during the night by singing their national songs, as well as others of a more devotional character; of the latter the following is a specimen, taken from a very interesting work, the "Autumn on the Rhine." When the verses are good, which is frequently the case, the effect is solemn and pleasing.]

"HARK! ye neighbours, and hear me tell,
Ten now strikes on the belfry bell!