"The tidings that came next were from A sailor old and gray,

Who saw his ship at anchor lie

In the harbor at Bombay;

But he said my brother pined for home,
And wished he were away.

66

'Again he wrote a letter long,
Without a word of gloom;
And soon, and very soon he said,
He should again come home;
I watched, as now, beside the door,
And yet he did not come.

"I watched and watched, but I knew not then

It would be all in vain ;

For very sick he lay the while,
In a hospital in Spain. -
Ah, me! I fear my brother dear
Will ne'er come home again!

"And now I watch - for we have heard That he is on his way,

And the letter said, in very truth,

He would be here to-day.

Oh! there's no bird that singeth now

Could tempt me hence away!"

-That self-same eve I wandered down

Unto the busy strand,

Just as a little boat came in

With people to the land;

And 'mongst them was a sailor-boy

Who leaped upon the sand.

I knew him by his dark blue eyes,
And by his features fair;

And as he leaped ashore he sang

A simple Scottish air,

"There's nae place like our ain dear hame To be met wi' onywhere!"

A SWINGING SONG.

MERRY it is on a summer's day,
All through the meadows to wend away;
To watch the brooks glide fast or slow,
And the little fish twinkle down below;
To hear the lark in the blue sky sing,

Oh, sure enough, 'tis a merry thing —
But 'tis merrier far to swing-to swing!

Merry it is on a winter's night,

To listen to tales of elf and sprite,
Of caves and castles so dim and old, -
The dismallest tales that ever were told;
And then to laugh, and then to sing,
You may take my word is a merry thing,
But 'tis merrier far to swing-to swing!

Down with the hoop upon the green,
Down with the ringing tamborine ;
Little heed we for this or for that;
Off with the bonnet, off with the hat!

Away we go like birds on the wing!

Higher yet! higher yet! "Now for the King!" This is the way we swing we swing!

Scarcely the bough bends, Claude is so light, Mount up behind him there, that is right! Down bends the branch now; swing him away

Higher yet higher yet - higher I say!
Oh, what a joy it is! Now let us sing

"A pear for the Queen-an apple for the King!" And shake the old tree as we swing

-

we swing

THE YOUNG MOURNER.

LEAVING her sports, in pensive tone,
"Twas thus a fair young mourner said,
'How sad we are now we're alone,
I wish my mother were not dead!

'I can remember she was fair;

And how she kindly looked and smiled, When she would fondly stroke my hair, And call me her beloved child.

"Before my mother went away,

You never sighed as now you do ; You used to join us at our play,

And be our merriest playmate too

"Father, I can remember when
I first observed her sunken eye,

And her pale, hollow cheek; and then
I told my brother she would die!

"And the next morn they did not speak,
But led us to her silent bed;
They bade us kiss her icy cheek,
And told us she indeed was dead!

"Oh, then I thought how she was kind, My own beloved and gentle mother! And calling all I knew to mind,

I thought there ne'er was such another!

"Poor little Charles, and I! that day
We sate within our silent room;
But we could neither read nor play,-
The very walls seemed full of gloom.

"I wish my mother had not died,

We never have been glad since then! They say, and is it true," she cried, "That she can never come again?"

The father checked his tears, and thus

He spake, "My child, they do not err, Who say she cannot come to us; But you and I may go to her.

"Remember your dear mother still,

And the pure precepts she has given;

Like her, be humble, free from ill,

And you shall see her face in heaven!"

THE SOLDIER'S STORY.

HEAVEN bless the boys!" the old man said, 66 "I hear their distant drumming, Young Arthur Bruce is at their head, And down the street they're coming.

"And a very noble standard too
He carries in the van;

By the faith of an old soldier, he
Is born to make a man!"

A glow of pride passed o'er his cheek,
A tear came to his eye;
"Hurra, hurra! my gallant men!"
Cried he, as they came nigh.

"It seems to me but yesterday
Since I was one like ye,

And now my years are seventy-two,
Come here, and talk with me!"

They made a halt, those merry boys,
Before the aged man;

And "Tell us now some story wild
Young Arthur Bruce began;

"Of battle and of victory

Tell us some stirring thing!' The old man raised his arm aloft,

And cried, "God save the King