AUNT MARIA'S SWALLOWS.

The little, helpless, timid things,

Looked up, and looked below,

And thought, before they tried their wings,
They'd take more time to grow.

The parents seemed, at last, to tire
Of their incessant labors;

And forth they went, to beg or hire
Assistance from their neighbors.

And soon they came, with rushing noise,
Some eight or ten, or more;
Much like a troop of merry boys

Before the school-house door.

They flew about, and perched about,
In every sort of style,

And called aloud, with constant shout,
And watched the nest the while.

The little birds, they seemed half crazed,
So well they liked the fun;
Yet were the simple things amazed
To see how it was done.

They gazed upon the playful flock,
With eager, beaming eyes,

And tried their winged ways to mock,

And mocked their twittering cries.

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They stretched themselves, with many a shake,
And oft, before they flew,

Did they their feathery toilet make,
And with a great ado.

Three times the neighbors came that day,
To teach their simple rules,
According to the usual way,
In all the Flying Schools.

The perpendicular they taught,
And the graceful parallel ;
And sure I am, the younglings ought

To learn their lessons well.

Down from the nest at last they dropped,
As if half dead with fear;

And round among the logs they hopped,
Their parents hovering near.

Then back again they feebly flew,
To rest from their great labors;

And twittered a polite adieu

To all their friendly neighbors.

Next day they fluttered up and down :
One perched upon my cap;
Another on the old loose gown
In which I take my nap.

AUNT MARIA'S SWALLOWS.

Each day they practised many hours,
Till they mounted up so high,

I thought they would be caught in showers,
And never get home dry.

But when the sun sank in the west,

My favorites would return,
And sit around their little nest,
Like figures on an urn.

And then they dropped away to sleep,
With heads beneath their wings.
I would have given much to keep
The precious little things.

But soon the nest became too small,
They grew so big and stout;

And when it would not hold them all,
They had some fallings out.

Three of the five first went away,
To roost on the tall old tree;
But back and forth they came all day,
Their sister-kins to see.

My heart was sad to find, one night,
That none came back to me;

I saw them by the dim twilight,
Flock to the tall old tree.

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But still they often met together,
Near that little clay-built nest;
'T was in the rainiest weather
They seemed to like it best.

Yet often, when the sun was clear,
They 'd leave their winged troops,
Again to visit scenes so dear,
And swing upon the hoops.

Just as when human beings roam,
The busy, absent brother
Loves to revisit his old home,

Where lived his darling mother.

Months passed away, and still they came,
When stars began to rise,
And flew around our window-pane,

To catch the sleepy flies.

Into our supper-room they flew,
And circled round my head;
For well the pretty creatures knew
They had no cause for dread.

But winter comes, and they are gone
After the southern sun;

And left their human friends alone,

To wish that Spring would come.

THE HEN AND HER DUCKS.

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THE HEN AND HER DUCKS.

There was a little hen,

Very small and thick,
And this little hen
Never had a chick.

But in the straw, one day,
She began to scratch,
And four eggs she did lay,
Some young ones to hatch.

The farmer heard her cluck,
And he thought it best,
To put the eggs of a duck
Into Biddy's nest.

And soon the hen marched out
With a pretty young brood,
But what she led about,

She never understood.

Proud was the little Biddy,

When she called Chuck! chuck!

She did not know, the niddy,

A chicken from a duck.