Then, settling into fond discourse, We told o'er all that we had done,- We talked of change, of winter gone, To her these tales they will repeat, -But, see, the evening star comes forth! 'Tis gone-and in a merry fit They run up stairs in gamesome race; I could have joined the wanton chase. Five minutes past-and, oh, the change! Then downward from the steep hill's edge And then an open field they crossed; They followed from the snowy bank Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along," That whistles in the wind. ALICE FELL; OR, POVERTY. THE post-boy drove with fierce career, When suddenly I seemed to hear As if the wind blew many ways, I heard the sound-and more and more : At length I to the boy called out; The boy then smacked his whip, and fast Said I, alighting on the ground, Sitting behind the chaise, alone. I met a little cottage girl: She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. Then did the little maid reply, "You run about, my little maid, ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS. SHOWING HOW THE PRACTICE OF LYING I HAVE a boy of five years old; One morn we strolled on our dry walk, "Their graves are green, they may be And held such intermitted talk seen, The little maid replied, As we are wont to do. "Twelve steps or more from my mother's My thoughts on former pleasures ran; door, And they are side by side. 'My stockings there I often knit, "And often after sunset, sir, "The first that died was little Jane; Till God released her of her pain; I thought of Kilve's delightful shore, A day it was when I could bear The green earth echoed to the feet Of lambs that bounded through the glade, Birds warbled round me-every trace At this my boy hung down his head, His head he raised-there was in sight, Then did the boy his tongue unlock; O dearest, dearest boy! my heart RURAL ARCHITECTURE. THERE'S George Fisher, Charles Fleming, and Reginald Shore, Three rosy-cheeked school-boys, the high est not more Than the height of a counsellor's bag; To the top of Great How* were once tempted to climb; * Great How is a single and conspicuous hill, which rises towards the foot of Thirlmere, on And there they built up, without mortar or lime, A man on the peak of the crag. They built him of stones gathered up as they lay; They built him and christened him all in one day, An urchin both vigorous and hale; And so without scruple they called him Just half a week after, the wind sallied forth, [north And, in anger or merriment, out of the Coming on with a terrible pother, From the peak of the crag blew the giant away. [next day And what did these school-boys?-The very They went and they built up another. Some little I've seen of blind boisterous works [Turks, By Christian disturbers more savage than Spirits busy to do and undo: At remembrance whereof my blood sometimes will flag; [crag, Then, light-hearted boys, to the top of the And I'll build up a giant with you. Towards the lamb she looked; and from that shady place [her face: I unobserved could see the workings of If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring, " Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing: "What ails thee, young one? what? Why pull so at thy cord? [and board? Is it not well with thee? well both for bed Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be; [aileth thee? Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that "What is it thou would'st seek? What is wanting to thy heart? Thy limbs, are they not strong? And beautiful thou art: This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers; [thy ears! And that green corn all day is rustling in "If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain, [canst gain; This beech is standing by, its covert thou For rain and mountain storms? the like thou need'st not fear Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now, [in the plough;、 Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold [be thy fold. Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall "It will not, will not rest!-poor creature, can it be [ing so in thee? That 'tis thy mother's heart which is workThings that I know not of belike to thee are dear, [neither see nor hear. And dreams of things which thou canst 'Alas, the mountain tops that look so green and fair! I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there; [and all play, The little brooks that seem all pastime When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey. "Here thou need'st not the sky; Night and day thou art Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain? [thee again!" Sleep-and at break of day I will come to As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet, This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat; And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line, [of it was mine. The rain and storm are things that scarcely That but half of it was hers, and one half can come here. Again, and once again, did I repeat the song; [damsel must belong, Nay," said I, "more than half to the For she looked with such a look, and she spake with such a tone, [my own.' That I almost received her heart into " THE IDLE SHEPHERD-BOYS; OR, DUNGEON-GHYLL-FORCE." A PASTORAL.. THE valley rings with mirth and joy; Among the hills the echoes play * Ghyll, in the dialect of Cumberland and |