LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS. CHARLES F. ADAMS. I haf von funny leedle poy Vot gomes schust to my knee,— Der queerest schap, der greatest rogue He runs, und schumps, und schmashes dings In all barts off der house. But vot off dot? He vas mine son, Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss. He got der measels und der mumbs, He sbills mine glass off lager bier, He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese- I'd dake dot from no oder poy But leedle Yawcob Strauss. He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum, Und cuts mine cane in dwo To make der schticks to beat it mit- I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart He asks me questions sooch as dese: Who vos it cuts dot schmoodth blace oudt Vrom der hair ubon mine hed? Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp Vene'er der glim I douse? How gan I all dese dings eggsblain To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss. I somedimes dink I schall go vild Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest But ven he vas ashleep in ped, So quiet as a mouse, I prays der Lord, “Dake anytings, AUNTY DOLEFUL'S VISIT, MARY KYLE DALLAS. How do you do, Cornelia? I heard you were sick, and I stepped in to cheer you up a little. My friends often say, "It's such a comfort to see you, Aunty Doleful. You have such a flow of conversation, and are so lively." Besides, I said to myself, as I came up the stairs, "Perhaps it's the last time I'll ever see Cornelia Jane alive.” You don't mean to die yet, eh? Well, now, how do you know? You can't tell. You think you are getting better; but there was poor Mrs. Jones sitting up, and every one saying how smart she was, and all of a sudden she was taken with spasms in the heart, and went off like a flash. But you must be careful, and not get anxious or excited. Keep quite calm, and don't fret about anything. Of course, things can't go on just as if you were down stairs; and I wondered whether you knew your little Billy was sailing about in a tub on the mill-pond, and that your little Sammy was letting your little Jimmy down from the veranda roof in a clothes-basket. Gracious goodness! what's the matter? You guess Providence 'll take care of 'em! Don't look so. You thought Bridget was watching them? Well, no, she isn't. I saw her talking to a man at the gate. He looked to me like a burglar. No doubt she let him take the impression of the door-key in wax, and then he'll get in and murder you all. There was a family at Kobble Hill all killed last week for fifty dollars. Now, don't fidget so; it will be bad for the baby. Poor little dear! How singular it is, to be sure, that you can't tell whether a child is blind, or deaf and dumb, or a cripple at that age. It might be all, and you'd never know it. Most of them that have their senses make bad use of them, though: that ought to be your comfort, if it does turn out to have anything dreadful the matter with it. And more don't live a year. I saw a baby's funeral down the street as I came along. How is Mr. Kobble? Well, but finds it warm in town, eh? Well, I should think he would. They are dropping down by hundreds there with sun-stroke. You must prepare your mind to have him brought home any day. Anyhow, a trip on these railroad trains is just risking your life every time you take one. Back and forth every day as he is, it's just trifling with danger. Dear! dear! now to think what dreadful things hang over us all the time! Dear! dear! Scarlet fever has broken out in the village, Cornelia. Little Isaac Potter has it, and I saw your Jimmy playing with him last Saturday. Well, I must be going now. I've got another sick friend, and I shan't think my duty done unless I cheer her up a little before I sleep. Good-by. How pale you look, Cornelia. I don't believe you have a good doctor. else. Do send him away and try some one You don't look so well as you did when I came in. But if anything happens, send for me at once. If I can't do anything else, I can cheer you up a little. CUDDLE DOON. ALEXANDER ANDERSON. The bairnies cuddle doon.at nicht Wi' muckle faucht an' din. "Oh, try and sleep, ye waukrife rogues: They never heed a word I speak, I try to gie a froon; But aye I hap them up, an' cry, Wee Jamie, wi' the curly heid- I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks- "Noo, weanies, cuddle doon!" cry, But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab The mischief's in that Tam for tricks: But aye I hap them up, and cry, At length they hear their father's fit; An,' as he steeks the door, They turn their faces to the wa', "Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks, As he pits aff his shoon. "The bairnies, John, are in their beds, An' lang since cuddled doon." An' just afore we bed oorsels, We look at oor wee lambs. Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck, I lift wee Jamie up the bed, I whisper, till my heart fills up, The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht Will quaten doon their glee. Yet, come what will to ilka ane, May He who sits aboon Aye whisper, though their pows be bauld, "Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!" BELSHAZZAR'S DOOM. Lo, the sounds of mirth rise loud And a mellow, mystic radiance Floats upon the perfumed air, |