Some wild beast, and they scare me.

nearer yet;

Come nearer—

Come near till I whisper; have you seen her-seen

Annette?

She has blue eyes-my darling; her curls are rings of

gold;

She is so plump and dimpled, and she's just three years old.

You'll know if you have seen her, because there cannot be

'Mong all the pretty children, another fair as she.

Ha ha! she laughs so merry; her soul is full of light;

Her voice is full of music; she is so bonny bright.

You ask me, "What about her?" Oh! then you haven't heard?

You see, I went out calling and left the little bird
At home, in care of Sarah, the nurse-I often do.
Well, well! we ladies chatted, and so the moments

flew.

That woman seemed so trusty. Gone! gone!-both gone away!

Come, think! you must have seen them-'twas only yesterday.

Yes, stolen-lost, I tell you! and never any trace! Ah! I can see him enter-the anguish in his faceAfter the fruitless searching! 'No news?" No [blame;

answer came;

But, oh! his eyes flashed at me—his eyes were full of And so, when in the midnight I saw him pacing there, And heard his restless footsteps, 'twas more than I could bear.

Then I crept softly, softly, among the shadows dim; I said, “I'll go and find her and bring her back to him."

I wandered till the daybreak and till the set of sun: "Say, have you seen my baby?" I asked of every one; "Her eyes are blue and merry; her hair as bright as gold; [old." She is so plump and dimpled, and she's just three years

And none of them had seen her-they only stared

at me,

And so I wandered, wandered, until I reached the sea. So far across the waters! the days they were like

years,

And all the surging billows were troubled with her tears, And all the winds were sobbing; "Mamma! Mamma!" they cried.

She could not hear me answer, there on the ocean wide.

And when we reached the harbor, I was so glad at last, I hurried off to find her; I hurried off so fast

I could not stay for nightfall, I could not stay for

noon,

I thought to hurry, hurry, and find her very soon. From town to town I wandered; I asked of all I met, "Say, have you seen my baby? Say, have you seen.

Annette ?"

Oh! I was sure I heard her; oh! I was sure that time I heard her rippling laughter. So, up and up I climb; I clamber up the hillside: "Annette! Annette!" I

call.

'Tis but the shepherd's children-'tis not Annette

at all.

So, up and down the mountains, and through the forest wild,

I wander-wander-calling and searching for my

child.

The rain falls on you sometimes, and sometimes falls the snow;

The people they stare at you and laugh where'er you go;

And often one is weary, and often one is cold,

And there's a creature haunts me; she's wrinkled, weird and old;

Her locks are white as silver, her eyes they gleam and glare;

She is so ragged, ragged! I meet her everywhere.

She hides behind the windows and follows as I pass; And where the brook runs fast, and through the wet low grass

She follows, follows everywhere! I cannot shake her off

I hear her now behind me-hark at her jeers and scoff!

36

Annette, dear Annette!" how her voice does thrill me through:

She knocks at every door-she's standing now by you.

What did they bring me here for? I say, I want to go!

How shall I ever find her, when I am locked in so? They lied to me! They told me-'twas once there in

the street

Where I sat on a door-step, to rest my aching feetThey said, "We'll lead you to her," and many times said "Come!"

At last I followed, cager to find my little one.

Wait till I whisper

I found a prison-curse them!

low.

They just humbug the public! They bring you here to show

How high are all the ceilings, and how the floors are

white

And yet they steal my darling, and keep her out of

sight;

And when I bid them bring her, they promise "By and by!"

Just turn the key, please, won't you? and let me slip out, sly!

Her father's waiting for her; he's pacing to and fro, Among the lonesome midnight. Oh! please, I want

to go

If I could take her to him, and say "Here is Annette!" Then all the years of waiting I'm sure he would for

get;

And he would look no blaming; and, oh! there would be three,

That the very angels bright could scarcely gladder be.

You iron bars, I'll smash you! I'll batter down these walls!

She's crying, oh! she's crying! "Mamma! mamma!" she calls.

[there! If I were strong as Samson! Oh! help! you people You lied to me! Away then! come near me if you

dare!

Oh! pity, pity, people! Oh! please to let me go! Where is Annette? where is she? Does anybody know?

MODEL DISCOURSE.

The following is a satire on a class of sermons now less frequently heard than formerly.

"Brethren, the words of my text are:

"Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard,
To get her poor dog a bone;

But when she got there, the cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none."

"These beautiful words, dear friends, carry with them a solemn lesson. I propose this evening to analyze their meaning, and to attempt to apply it, lofty as it may be, to our every day life.

"Mother Hubbard, you see, was old; there being no mention of others, we may presume that she was alone—a widow, a friendless, solitary old widow. Yet, did she despair? Did she sit down and weep, or read a novel, or wring her hands? No! She went to the cupboard. And here observe, that she went to the cupboard. She went to the cupboard. She did not hop, or skip, or run, or jump, or use any other peripatetic artifice; she solely and merely went to the cupboard. We have seen that she was old and lonely, and we now further see she was poor. For, mark, the words are, the cupboard,' not 'one of the cupboards,' or 'the right-hand cupboard,' or 'the left hand cupboard,' or 'the one above,' or 'the one below,' or 'the one under the floor,' but just 'the cupboard,'—the one humble little cupboard the widow possessed. And why did she go to the cupboard? Was it to bring forth golden goblets, or glittering precious stones, or costly apparel, or feasts, or any other attributes to wealth ? It was 'to get her poor dog a bone.' Not only was the widow poor, but her dog, the sole prop of her age, was poor also. We