LITTLE BELL.

And the while the bonny bird did pour His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er, 'Neath the morning skies,

In the little childish heart below

All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
And shine forth in happy overflow

From the blue, bright eyes.

Down the dell she tripped, and through the glade ; Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade,

And from out the tree

Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear; While bold blackbird piped that all might hear, "Little Bell!" piped he.

Little Bell sat down amid the fern;

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Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return:
Bring me nuts!" quoth she.

Up, away the frisky squirrel hies,

Golden wood-lights glancing in his eyes,

And adown the tree,

Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun,
In the little lap dropped one by one;

Hark, how blackbird pipes to see the fun!

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Happy Bell!" pipes he.

Little Bell looked up and down the glade:

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Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid,

Come and share with me!"

Down came squirrel, eager for his fare,
Down came bonny blackbird I declare;

LITTLE BELL.

Little Bell gave each his honest share:
Ah, the merry three!

And the while these frolic playmates twain Piped, and frisked from bough to bough again, 'Neath the morning skies,

In the little childish heart below

All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
And shine out in happy overflow,

From the blue, bright eyes.

By her snow-white cot at close of day,
Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray.

Very calm and clear

Rose the praying voice to where, unseen,

In blue heaven, an angel shape serene
Paused awhile to hear.

"What good child is this," the angel said,

"That, with happy heart, beside her bed

Prays so lovingly?"

Low and soft, O very low and soft!

Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft:

"Bell, dear Bell!" crooned he.

"Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair Murmured, "God doth bless with angels' care; Child, thy bed shall be

Folded safe from harm.-Love deep and kind Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind, Little Bell, for thee."

THOMAS WEstwood.

SIR MARMADUKE was a hearty knight: Good man! old man!

He's painted standing bolt upright,

With his hose rolled over his knee;

His periwig's as white as chalk,

And on his fist he holds a hawk;

And he looks like the head

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.

His dining-room was long and wide:
Good man! old man!

His spaniels lay by the fireside;
And in other parts, d'ye see,
Crossbows, tobacco-pipes, old hats,

A saddle, his wife, and a litter of cats;
And he looked like the head

Of an ancient family.

He never turned the poor from the gate:
Good man! old man!

But was always ready to break the pate
Of his country's enemy.

What knight could do a better thing

Than serve the poor, and fight for his king?

And so may every head

Of an ancient family.

GEORGE COLMAN, "the younger."

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.

I REMEMBER, I remember

The house where I was born,

The little window, where the sun

Came peeping in at morn;

He never came a wink too soon,

Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.

I remember, I remember

The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs, where the robin built,

And where my brother set

The laburnum on his birthday ;
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember

The fir-trees, dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky.

It was a childish ignorance;

But now 'tis little joy

To know I'm farther off from Heaven
Than when I was a boy.

THOMAS HOOD.