XII.

ONLY a drop in the bucket,
But every drop will tell;
The bucket soon would be empty
Without the drop in the well.

Only a poor little penny; .
It was all I had to give;
But as pennies make the dollars,
It may help some cause to live.

God loveth the cheerful giver,

Though the gift be poor and small: What does He think of his children When they never give at all?

XIII.

IF Wisdom's ways you wisely seek,
Five things observe with care:

To whom you speak, of whom you speak,
And how, and when, and where.

XIV.

LITTLE things, ay, little things
Make up the sum of life;
A word, a look, a single tone,
May lead to calm a strife.

A word may part the dearest friends-
One little, unkind word,

Which in some light, unguarded hour,
The heart with anger stirred.

A look will sometimes send a pang
Of anguish to the heart:

A tone will often cause the tear
In sorrow's eye to start.

One little act of kindness done-
One little kind word spoken-
Hath power to make a thrill of joy,
E'en in a heart that's broken.

Then let us watch these "little things,"
And so respect each other,

That not a word, or look, or tone
Shall wound a friend or brother.

XV.-SEVEN TIMES ONE.

THERE'S no dew left on the daisies and clover, There's no rain left in heaven:

I've said my

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seven times" over and over,—

Seven times one are seven.

I am old,- -so old I can write a letter;
My birthday lessons are done :

The lambs play always,—they know no better,—
They are only one times one.

O Moon! in the night I have seen you sailing

And shining so round and low:

You were bright—ah, bright!—but your light is failing,— You are nothing now but a bow.

You Moon! have you done something wrong in heaven,
That God has hidden your face?

I hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven,
And shine again in your place.

O velvet bee! you're a dusty fellow;
You've powdered your legs with gold!
O. brave marshmary-buds, rich and yellow,
Give me your money to hold!

O columbine! open your folded wrapper,
Where two twin turtle-doves dwell!
O cuckoo-pint! toll me the purple clapper
That hangs in your clear green bell!

And show me your nest, with the young ones in it,

I will not steal them away:

I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet!

I am seven times one to-day.

-Jean Ingelow,

XVI.

THERE is a little maiden-

Who is she? Do you know?—
Who always has a welcome
Wherever she may go.

Her face is like the May-time,
Her voice is like a bird's;
The sweetest of all music

Is in her lightsome words.

Each spot she makes the brighter,
As if she were the sun;
And she is sought and cherished,
And loved by every one;

By old folks and by children,
By lofty and by low:
Who is this little maiden ?

Does any body know?

You surely must have met her;
You certainly can guess:
What! I must introduce her?

Her name is-Cheerfulness!

XVII.

LOST, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered, for they are gone forever. -Horace Mann.

XVIII.

THERE's a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree. "He's singing to me! he's singing to me!"

And what does he say, little girl, little boy? "Oh, the world's running over with joy! Don't you see?

Don't you hear?

Hush! Look!

In my tree,

I'm as happy as happy can be!"

And the brown thrush keeps singing,

"A nest do you see,

And five eggs, hid by me in the juniper-tree?
Don't meddle! don't touch! little girl, little boy,
Or the world will lose some of its joy!
Now I'm glad! now I'm free!

And I always shall be,

If you never bring sorrow to me."