As ever growed smaller yet.
But it wasn't in lace or coral
To bribe her to linger here!

I looks in her eyes,--" She's off," I sighs-
"She's off to her proper sp'ere.

Here treasures was all around her,
But she was too wise and grave
For the pug on the shelf, and, as big as herself,
The doll as her grandma gave.

She wanted the stars for playthings,
Our wonderful six-weeks' guest;

So, with one little sigh, she closed her eye,
And woke on a hangel's breast.

And how did the missis take it?
Most terrible calm and mild ;
With a face a'most like a bloodless ghost
She covered the sleeping child.
There was me like a six-foot babby
A blubbering long and loud,
While she sat there in the rocking-chair,
A-sewing the little shroud.

I couldn't abide to see it--
The look in her tearless eye;
I touches her so, and I whispers low,
"My darlingest, can't you cry?"
She gave me a smile for answer,
Then over her work she bowed,

And all through the night her needle bright
Was sewing a little shroud.

In the gray of a winter morning,
The mite of a coffin came,
But it had space, O Father of Grace,
To bury a mother's heart!

Great God! such a shaller coffin,
And yet so awful deep!

I placed it there by the poor wife's chair,
And I thinks, "At last she'll weep."

But she rose with never a murmur,
As cam as a specter thin,

And-waxy and cold and so light to hold-
She places the baby in.

Then, moving with noiseless footfall, She reaches from box and shelf The little one's mug and the china pug, And the doll that was big as herself. Then-God! it was dreadful to watch herAll white in her crape-black gown, With her own cold hands my Mary stands And fastens the coffin down.

I carried the plaything coffin,
Tucked under my arm, just so;

And she stood there at the head of the stair,
And quietly watched us go.

So parson he comes in his night-gown,
And says that as grass is man,

And earth had trust of the pinch of dust
That was Alexandrina Ann.

I was trying to guess the riddle
I never could answer pat-

What the wisdom and love as is planning above
Could mean by a life like that;

And I'd got my foot on the doorstep, When, scaring my mournful dream, Shrill, wild and clear, there tore on my ear The sound of a maniac scream.

The scream of a raving maniac,
But, Father of death and life!

I listened and knew, the madness through
The voice of my childless wife.

One moment I clutched and staggered,
Then down on my bended knee,

And up to the sky my wrestling cry
Went up for my girl and me.

I went to her room and found her;
She sat on the floor, poor soul!

Two burning streaks on her death-pale cheeks,
And eyes that were gleeds of coal.

And now she would shriek and shudder,
And now she would laugh aloud,

And now for a while, with an awful smile,
She'd sew at a little shroud.

Dear Lord, through the day and darkness, Dear Lord, through the endless night, I sat by her side, while she shrieked and cried, And I thought it would ne'er be light. And still, through the blackness thronging With shapes that was dread to see, My shuddering cry to the God on high Went up for my girl and me.

At last through the winder, morning
Came glimmering, cold and pale;
And, faint but clear, to my straining ear
Was carried a feeble wail.

I went to the door in wonder,
And there, in the dawning day,

All swaddled and bound in a bundle round,
A sweet little baby lay.

It lay on the frosty doorstep,
A pert little two months' child;
Dumfounded and slow, I raised it so,
And it looked in my face and smiled.
And so as I kissed and loved it,
I grajuly growed aware

As the Father in bliss had sent us this,
The answer to wrestling prayer.

In wonder and joy and worship,
With tears that were soft and blest,
I carried the mite, and, still and white,
I laid it on Mary's breast.

I didn't know how she'd take it,

So goes on an artful tack;

"The little 'un cried for her mother's side. And the hangels has sent her back!"

My God! I shall ne'er forget it,
Though spared for a hundred years—
The soft delight on her features white,
The rush of her blissful tears.

The eyes that was hard and vacant
Grew wonderful soft and mild,

As she cries," Come rest on your mammy's breast, My own little hangel child."

And so from that hour, my darling Grew happy and strong and well; And the joy that I felt as to God I knelt Is what I can noways tell.

There's parties as sneers and tells you There's nothing but clouds up there: I answers 'em so, "There's a God I know, And a Father that heareth prayer."

And what if my Mary fancies
The babe is a child of light-

Our own little dear sent back to us here ?-
And mayn't she be somewheres right?
Here, Mary, my Darling, Mary!

A friend has come into town;

Don't mind her nose nor changing her clo'es,
But bring us the hangel down.

Langbridge, in "The Voice Magazine."

NAUGHTY GIRL.

I don't 'spect folks think I look so very purty in this dress. I don't think I do neither.

This is 'bout the worstest dress I dot, but if it is the worstest dress I dot, it's lots better than Mary Lee's Sunday

dress. But then my pa's lots richer'n hern. My pa's dot so much money he could gist throw it away if he wanted to but he don't want to, and I don't blame him much neither, so I don't.

Some people say I kin speak so nice, but I don't think I kin. I'm going to speak a wee teeny little bit, and let you see how I spoke my piece for my ma's preachers t'huther day. Now this is going to be the way what I spoke my piece.

(Make several bows, forget, and begin again. Make gestures in imitation of a child.)

"I love to see a little dog,

And pat him on the head,

So prettily he wags his tail
Whenever he is fed.

"Some little dogs are very good
And very useful too,

And do you know that they will do
What they are bid to do?"

Don't 'spect you think that's such very good speakin'. Tain't. That's about the very worstest speakin' I kin speak. I kin speak lots better than that, for a man told me I could speak as good as Mary Sanderson. He said that when I spoke my piece what I got the medal on, over here in this big red brick school house. Mary Sanderson speaks in New York, and pa says I kin go and hear her speak some day if I don't die too soon. Do you all know her? Now this is my medal piece.