THE BLIND BOY AT PLAY.

THE blind boy's been at play, mother,
The merry games we had!
We led him on his way, mother,
And every step was glad:

But when we found a starry flower,
And praised its varied hue,

A tear came trembling down his cheek,
Just like a drop of dew.

We took him to the mill, mother,
Where falling waters made
A rainbow o'er the hills, mother,
As golden sunrays played:
But when we shouted at the scene,
And hailed the clear blue sky,
He stood quite still upon the bank,
And breathed a long, long sigh,

We asked him why he wept, mother,
Whene'er we found the spots
Where periwinkles crept, mother,
O'er wild forget-me-nots.
"Ah me!" he said, while tears ran down

As fast as summer showers,

"It is because I cannot see

The sunshine and the flowers."

Oh! that poor, sightless boy, mother,

He taught me that I'm blest; For I can look with joy, mother, On all I love the best.

And when I see the dancing stream,

And daisies red and white,

I kneel upon the meadow sod
And THANK MY GOD for sight.

Eliza Cook.

EMPLOYMENT.

WHO'LL Come and play with me here under the tree?

My sisters have left me alone;

My sweet little sparrow, come hither to me,
And play with me while they are gone.

Oh no, little lady, I can't come indeed,
I have no time to idle away;

I've got all my dear little young ones to feed,
And my nest to new cover with hay.

Pretty bee, do not buzz about over that flower,
But come here and play with me, do;

That sparrow won't come to play with me an hour,
But say, pretty bee-will not you?

Oh, no, little lady, for do you not see,

Those must work who will prosper and thrive;
If I play they would call me a sad idle bee,
And perhaps turn me out of the hive.

Stop! stop! little ant, do not run off so fast,
Wait with me a little and play;

I hope I shall find a companion at last;
You are not quite so busy as they.

Oh, no, little lady, I can't stay with you,
We are not made to play, but to labour;
I have always something or other to do,
If not for myself, for my neighbour.

Have they, then, all some employment but me,
Who stay lounging here like a dunce?

Oh, then, like the ant, and sparrow,
I'll go to my lesson at once.

and bee,

THE SHEPHERD BOY.

"COME, little flock, 'tis time to leave the mountain;
Shadows are long, and the sun is sinking fast;
Soon will the moon be sparkling in yon fountain :
Come, little flock, for the day is past."

Thus down the vale the shepherd boy is singing, While to the fold he leads his snowy sheep; Homeward the rooks their weary flight are wingingAll nature's children prepare to sleep.

Poor shepherd boy! the moss must be his pillow,
Verdure his couch, no bed of down has he;
Nightly he lies beneath the spreading willow,
Lull'd by the brook and the rustling trees.

Poor shepherd boy! the stars that shine above him
Speak to his soul of beauty and of power;
Glad he adores the Father that doth love him,
Sending His care through the midnight hour.
From the German,

THE HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN.

JOHN GILPIN was a citizen

Of credit and renown,

A train-band captain eke was he

Of famous London town.

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear,
"Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen.

"To-morrow is our wedding-day,
And we will then repair
Unto the Bell at Edmonton,
All in a chaise and pair.

"My sister and my sister's child,
Myself and children three,
Will fill the chaise; so you must ride
On horseback after we."

He soon replied, "I do admire
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.

"I am a linendraper bold,

As all the world doth know,
And my good friend the calendrer
Will lend his horse to go."

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, “That's well said; And, for that wine is dear,

We will be furnished with our own,

Which is both bright and clear.

John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife;
O'erjoyed was he to find

That though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.

The morning came, the chaise was brought,

But yet was not allowed

To drive up to the door, lest folk
Should say that she was proud.

So three doors off the chaise was stay'd,
Where they did all get in-

Six precious souls, and all agog

To dash through thick and thin.

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,
Were never folk so glad ;
The stones did rattle underneath,
As if Cheapside were mad.

John Gilpin at his horse's side
Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got in haste to ride,
But soon came down again:

For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he,
His journey to begin,

When turning round his head, he saw
Three customers come in.

So down he came; for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
Would trouble him much more.

'Twas long before the customers
Were suited to their mind,

When Betty, screaming, came down stairs, "The wine is left behind!"