5. The nightingale shyly took

Her head from under her wing,
And giving the dove a look,

Straightway began to sing.

There was never a bird could pass-
The night was divinely calm-
And the people stood on the grass
To hear that wonderful psalm.

6. The nightingale did not care-
She only sang to the skies;
Her song ascended there,

And there she fixed her eyes.
The people who listened below,

She knew but little about-
And this tale has a moral, I know,
If you'll try to find it out.
Jean Ingerow.

MRS. DO-AS-YOU-WOULD-BE-DONE-BY.

1. WHEN Sunday morning came, sure enough, Mrs. Do-as-you-would-be- done - by came too. Whereat all the little children began dancing and clapping their hands, and Tom danced too with all his might.

2. And as for the pretty lady, I cannot tell you what the color of her hair was, or of her eyes; no more could Tom; for, when any one looks at her,

all they can think of is, that she has the sweetest, kindest, tenderest, funniest, merriest face they ever saw, or want to see. She was the most nice, soft, fat, smooth, pussy, cuddly, delicious creature who ever nursed a baby; and she understood babies thoroughly, for she had plenty of her own, whole rows and regiments of them, and has to this day.

3. All her delight was, whenever she had a spare moment, to play with babies, in which she showed herself a woman of sense; for babies are the best company, and the pleasantest playfellows in the world; at least, so all the wise people in the world think. And therefore when the children saw her, they naturally all caught hold of her, and pulled her till she sat down on a stone, and climbed into her lap, and clung round her neck, and caught hold of her hands; and then they all put their thumbs into their mouths, and began cuddling and purring like so many kittens, as they ought to have done. While those who could get nowhere else sat down on the sand and cuddled her feet. And Tom stood staring at them, for he could not understand what it was all about.

4. "And who are you, you little darling?" she said.

“Oh, that is the new baby!" they all cried, pulling their thumbs out of their mouths; " and he never had any mother," and they all put their thumbs back again, for they did not wish to lose any time.

"Then I will be his mother, and he shall have the very best place; so get out, all of you, this moment."

5. And she took up two great armfuls of babies -nine hundred under one arm, and thirteen hundred under the other-and threw them away, right and left, into the water. They came paddling and wriggling back to her like so many tadpoles, till you could see nothing of her from head to foot for the swarm of little babies.

6. But she took Tom in her arms, and kissed him and patted him, and talked to him, tenderly and low, such things as he had never heard before in his life; and Tom looked up into her eyes, and loved her, and loved, till he fell fast asleep from pure love.

7. And when he woke, she was telling the children a story. And what story did she tell them? One story she told them, which begins every Christmas Eve, and yet never ends at all forever and ever; and, as she went on, the children took their thumbs out of their mouths, and listened quite seriously, but not sadly at all, for she never told them anything sad; and Tom listened too, and never grew tired of listening. And he listened so long that he fell fast asleep again, and, when he woke, the lady was nursing him still.

8. "Don't go away," said little Tom.

"This is

so nice. I never had any one to cuddle me before."

"Don't go away," said all the children; “you have not sung us one song."

"Well, I have time for only one. So what shall it be?"

"The doll you lost! The doll you lost!" cried all the babies at once.

9. So the strange fairy sang:

IO.

"I once had a sweet little doll, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world;

Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,
And her hair was so charmingly curled.
But I lost my poor little doll, dears,

As I played in the heath one day;

And I cried for her more than a week, dears,
But I never could find where she lay.

"I found my poor little doll, dears,

As I played in the heath one day;
Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,
For her paint is all washed away.

And her arm trodden off by the cows, dears,
And her hair not the least bit curled:
Yet for old sake's sake she is still, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world."

11. What a silly song for a fairy to sing! And what silly water-babies to be quite delighted at it.

"Now," said the fairy to Tom, "will you be a good boy for my sake, and torment no more seabeasts till I come back?”

66 And you will cuddle me again?" said poor

little Tom.

"Of course I will. I should like to take you with me, and cuddle you all the way, only I must not;" and away she went.

So Tom really tried to be a good boy, and tormented no sea-beasts after that as long as he lived. And he is quite alive, I assure you, still.

Charles Kingsley.

ABOU BEN ADHEM.

Abou Ben ADHEM (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight of his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold.
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room, he said,

"What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered, "The names of those who love the
Lord!"

"And is mine one?" asked Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spake more low,
But cheerily still, and said, “I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."
The angel wrote and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest;
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!

Leigh Hunt.