A parent's blessing on her son
Goes with this holy thing;

The love that would retain the one
Must to the other cling.
Remember. 't is no idle toy

A mother's gift — remember, boy!

KENNEDY.

CORN-FIELDS.

WHEN on the breath of autumn's breeze,
From pastures dry and brown,
Goes floating, like an idle thought,
The fair, white thistle-down, -
O, then what joy to walk at will
Upon the golden harvest-hill!

What joy in dreamy ease to lie
Amid a field new-shōrn,
And see all round, on sunlit slopes,
The piled-up shocks of corn,
And send the fancy wandering o'er
All pleasant harvest-fields of yore!

I feel the day; I see the field;
The quivering of the leaves;
And good old Jacob and his house
Binding the yellow sheaves!
And at this very hour I seem
To be with Joseph in his dream!

I see the fields of Bethlehem,

And reapers many a one Bending unto their sickle's stroke, And Boäz looking on;

And Ruth, the Moabitess fair,
Among the gleaners stooping there!

Again, I see a little child,

His mother's sole delight;
God's living gift of love unto
The kind, good Shunamite ;
To mortal pangs I see him yield,
And the lad bear him from the field.

The sun-bathed quiet of the hills,

The fields of Galilee,

That eighteen hundred years ago
Were full of corn, I see;

And the dear Saviour take his way
'Mid ripe ears on the Sabbath day.

O, golden fields of bending corn,
How beautiful they seem!
The reaper-folk, the piled-up sheaves,

To me are like a dream;

The sunshine and the very air

Seem of old time, and take me there!

MARY HOWITT .

WHAT IS PROPERTY?

YONDER stands an old tree which I call mine. Other generations before me have dwelt under its shade, and called it theirs; and other generations after me will do the same. And yet I call the tree mine. A bird has built a nest on one of its highest branches, but I can not reach it, and yet I call the tree mine.

Mine! There is scarcely any thing which I call mine which will not last much longer in this world than I shall:

there is not a single button of my jacket that is not destined to survive me many years.

What a strange thing is this property of which men are so envious! When I had nothing of my own, I had forests and meadows, and the sea, and the sky with all its stars!

I remember an old wood near to the house in which I was born. What days have I passed under its thick shade, in its green alleys! What violets have I gathered in it in the month of April, and what lilies of the valley in the month of May! What strawberries, blackberries, and nuts, I have eaten in it! What butterflies I have chased there! What nests I have discovered! What sweet per'fumes * have I inhaled! What verses have I there made! How often have I gone thither at the close of day, to see the glorious sun set, coloring with red and gold the white trunks of the birchtrees around me!

This wood was not mine; it belonged to an old bed-ridden miser, who had, perhaps, never been in it in his life-and yet it belonged to him.

FROM THE FRENCH OF KARR.

ON EARLY RISING.

FALSELY luxurious, will not man awake,
And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy
The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour,
To meditation due, and sacred song?

Wildered and tossing through distempered dreams,
Who would in such a gloomy state remain
Longer than nature craves, when every Muse
And every blooming pleasure wait without
To bless the wildly-devious morning walk?

THOMSON.

* Perfume, when a noun, has the accent on the first syllable; when a verb, on the last.

JOHN ANDREM

THE BOBOLINK AND THE SPORTSMAN. · A FABLE.

A BOBOLINK, whose lucky lot

It was to dodge a sportsman's shot,
Perched on a hemlock-bough, began
To taunt the disappointed man : —

"Click! bang! Put in more powder, Mister!
Tall shooting that! Call in your sister!
Shoot with a shovel, you'd do better !
Ha! Rip-si-da'dy! I'm your debtor!
Chick-a-dee-dee! Don't pine in sorrow!
You could n't do it. Call to-morrow!
You'll always find me in. Tip-wheet!
You're a great fool! Hip! Zip! Bang! Skeet!
Lick-a-tee-split! No, no! You can't!-
My best remembrance to your aunt !
Chick-a-dee-dee! Tip-wheet! I never
Felt better! Bobolinks for ever!
You thought you had me fast asleep.-
Excuse my laughing: you look cheap.
Come, try again; don't quit your gaming;
I feel so safe when you are aiming!"

The sportsman angry grew: another
Drew near, and thus addressed his brother:
"When your attempts to injure fail,
Complain not if your victim rail.”

THE THUNDER-SHOWER.

SINCE morning the heavens have been concealed by thick clouds; the air is heavy, and respiration difficult. The birds. have ceased to sing; the bees will not go beyond the gardenwalls; the flowers, half-faded, seem to languish on their stalks; swallows fly about, skimming the earth.

A flash of lightning gleams from a black cloud, and is followed by a heavy, distant sound. The flashes soon become more frequent, the peals of thunder nearer; then the clouds burst, and the rain falls in torrents!

采

And then the freshened air deliciously dilates the lungs the honeysuckles spread abroad their sweetest perfumes; the earth itself throws up a delightful odor; the rain has ceased, and the sun converts into fiery diamonds the drops suspended from the leaves of the trees. Pardon me, beautiful drops of rain, for comparing you to diamonds!

up

The birds sing, the flowers resume their splendor, and lift their heads. Every thing is revived, fresh, smiling, happy!

SPEECH OF A POCOMTUCK INDIAN.

WHITE man, there is eternal war between me and thee. I quit not the land of my fathers, but with my life. Whither shall I fly? Shall I wander to the west? The fierce Mohawk, the man-eater, is my foe. Shall I fly to the east ?—— The

* The ur in burst and the ir in first have the sound of er in her.