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Then did the little Maid reply,
“Seven boys and girls are we ;
“Two of us in the church-yard lie,
“Beneath the church-yard tree.”

** You run about, my little Maid,
“Your limbs they are alive;
“If two are in the church-yard laid,
“Then ye are only five.”

“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”
The little Maid replied,
“Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,

“And they are side by side.

“My stockings there I often knit,
“My 'kerchief there I hem;
“And there upon the ground I sit—
“I sit and sing to them.

“And often after sun-set, Sir,
“When it is light and fair,
“I take my little porringer,
“And eat my supper there.

“The first that died was little Jane;
“In bed she moaning lay,
“Till God released her of her pain;
“And then she went away.

“So in the church-yard she was laid;
“And all the summer dry,
“Together round her grave we played,
“My brother John and I,

“And, when the ground was white with snow,
** And I could run and slide,
“My brother John was forced to go,
“And he lies by her side.”

“How many are you then," said I,
“If they two are in Heaven?"
The little Maiden did reply,

“O Master we are seven.”

“But they are dead: those two are dead!
“Their spirits are in Heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away : for still
The little Maid would have her will,

And said, “Nay, we are seven '"

ANECDOTE for FATHERS,

Shewing how the practice of Lying may be taught.

I have a Boy of five years old;
His face is fair and fresh to see ;
His limbs are cast in beauty's mould,
And dearly he loves me.

One morn we stroll'd on our dry walk,
Our quiet home all full in view,
And held such intermitted talk

As we are wont to do.

My thoughts on former pleasures ran :
I thought of Kilve's delightful shore,
Our pleasant home, when Spring began,
A long, long year before.

A day it was when I could bear
To think, and think, and think again;
With so much happiness to spare,
I could not feel a pain.

My Boy was by my side, so slim
And graceful in his rustic dress
And oftentimes I talked to him.

In very idleness.

The young lambs ran a pretty race;
The morning sun shone bright and warm;
“Kilve,” said I, “was a pleasant place ;

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