MISCELLANEOUS.

BETWEEN the dark and the daylight,

When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me

The patter of little feet,

The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight, Descending the broad hall stair, Grave Alice and laughing Allegra, And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall !
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret

O'er the arms and back of my chair ; If I try to escape, they surround me ; They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine.

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old moustache as I am
you all?

Is not a match for

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,

But put you down into the dungeons
In the round tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,

Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,

And moulder in dust away.

-Henry W. Longfellow.

FATHER IS COMING.

THE clock is on the stroke of six,
The father's work is done;

Sweep up the hearth and mend the fire,

And put the kettle on!

The wild night-wind is blowing cold,
'Tis dreary crossing o'er the wold.

He's crossing o'er the wold apace ;
He's stronger than the storm;
He does not feel the cold, not he,

His heart it is too warm :

For father's heart is stout and true
As ever human bosom knew.

He makes all toil, all hardship light;

Would all men were the same,

So ready to be pleased, so kind,

So very slow to blame !

Folks need not be unkind, austere,

For love hath readier will than fear !