He had two po

not remember to tell half of them. I saw a little boy riding in the prettiest little carriage you ever saw. nies, no larger than uncle James's big dog. They looked like baby horses. I saw a great white image of a woman, that kept pouring water from a pitcher in her hand all the time. They called it a fountain. And I saw a little marble boy, that kept throwing up water over his head, and laughed when he saw it fall back again, wetting him all over. He was not alive. He was a marble image. But he looked as if he were laughing. And I saw so many, many dolls!”

"Should you

like to live in New York?" asked Willie. "No, I should not like to live there. I couldn't run about; and the folks push me. Come, let us go to the barn, and see how bossy calf does."

They all ran out to the barn, and found the calf eating his supper. Fanny patted him on the head, but he did not take much notice of her. "The foolish little thing," said Fanny; "he does not know I have been to New York. But here comes pussy cat, and she is glad to see me."

Pussy rubbed her fur against Fanny's gown, and purred. Then they ran into the barn to hunt for eggs; and the children all went back to the house, with an egg in each hand. Their mother told the little ones it was time to eat their supper and go to bed. For a long time after they went up stairs, Fanny's tongue was running as fast as her brother's top could spin. Poor little Mary could not keep awake to hear all her stories; and the chatterbox, finding that her sister was asleep, went to sleep herself.

Every day she tells of some new wonder, that she saw or heard while she was in the city. If the children laugh at her stories, she walks very tall, and says, "You never saw such things; for you never went to New York."

XXXVIII. - PERSEVERANCE.

ELIZA COOK.

[Robert Bruce wished to be king of Scotland, (1314,) and several other persons wished also to be king. There can be but one king at once in a country, and the friends of the different men who then desired to be king fell to fighting and killing one another.

While this was going on, Robert Bruce was often obliged to hide himself; some times in the woods, and sometimes in poor huts, for his enemies determined to kill him if they could find him.

Once, when he lay in such a hut upon a bundle of straw, he began to fear that he never could be king, and he felt very much grieved not to succeed in his purpose. While he lay thus discouraged, looking upward to the beams of the hut, he saw a spider trying to reach the roof.

The spider immediately fell to the ground; but he tried once more to ascend, and then fell again. He did this several times, but, at last, climbed to the top of the beam. Bruce saw the perseverance of the little insect, and concluded that if a creature so small could try again so successfully, he, surely, being a man, might yet by exertion become king of Scotland. He immediately went forth from his hiding place, collected his friends, and afterwards was made king. He reigned to the end of his days.*]

KING BRUCE of Scotland flung himself down,

In a lonely mood to think;

'Tis true he was monarch, and wore a crown,
But his heart was beginning to sink.

For he had been trying to do a great deed,
To make his people glad;

He had tried and tried, but could not succeed,
And so he became quite sad.

He flung himself down to low despair,

As grieved as man could be,

And after a while, as he pondered there,

"I'll give it up," cried he.

Now just at the moment a spider dropped

With its silken cobweb clew,

And the king in the midst of his thinking stopped

To see what the spider would do.

* This piece is taken from the Class Book of Poetry, edited by Miss Eliza Robbins; and the above introduction is by her.

'Twas a long way up to the ceiling dome, And it hung by a rope so fine,

That how it would get to its cobweb home,
King Bruce could not divine.

It soon began to cling and crawl
Straight up with strong endeavor;
But down it came with a slipping sprawl,
As near to the ground as ever.

Up, up it ran, nor a second did stay,
To make the least complaint,
Till it fell still lower; and there it lay
A little dizzy and faint.

Its head grew steady-again it went,
And travelled a half yard higher;
'Twas a delicate thread it had to tread,
And a road where its feet would tire.

Again it fell, and swung below;
But up it quickly mounted,

Till up and down, now fast, now slow,
Nine brave attempts were counted.

"Sure," said the king, "that foolish thing Will strive no more to climb,

When it toils so hard to reach and cling,
And tumbles every time."

But

up the insect went once more;
Ah me, 'tis an anxious minute;

He's only a foot from his cobweb door;
O, say, will he lose or win it?

Steadily, steadily, inch by inch,

Higher and higher he got,

And a bold little run at the very last pinch

Put him into the wished-for spot.

"Bravo, bravo!" the king cried out;
"All honor to those who try,

The spider up there defied despair;

He conquered, and why should not I?"

And Bruce of Scotland braced his mind,
And gossips tell the tale,

That he tried once more as he tried before,
And that time he did not fail.

Pay goodly heed, all you who read,
And beware of saying, "I can't;"
'Tis a cowardly word, and apt to lead
To idleness, folly, and want.

XXXIX. THE SEASONS.

MRS. BARBAULD.

WHO is this beautiful virgin that approaches, clothed in a robe of light green? She has a garland of flowers on her head, and flowers spring up wherever she sets her foot. The snow

which covered the fields, and the ice which was on the rivers, melt away when she breathes upon them. The young lambs frisk about her, and the birds warble to welcome her coming; when they see her, they begin to choose their mates, and to build their nests. Youths and maidens, have ye seen this beautiful virgin? If ye have, tell me who she is, and what is her name.

Who is this that cometh from the south, thinly clad in a light transparent garment? Her breath is hot and sultry; she seeks the refreshment of the cool shade; she seeks the clear streams, the crystal brooks, to bathe her languid limbs. The brooks and rivulets fly from her, and are dried up at her approach. She cools her parched lips with berries and the grateful acid of fruits. The tanned haymakers welcome her

coming; and the sheep shearer, who clips the fleeces off his flock with his sounding shears. When she cometh, let me lie under the thick shade of a spreading beech tree, - let me walk with her in the early morning, when the dew is yet upon the grass, - let me wander with her in the soft twilight, when the shepherd shuts his fold, and the star of the evening appears. Who is she that cometh from the south? Youths and maidens, tell me, if ye know, who she is, and what is her

name.

Who is he that cometh with sober pace, stealing upon us unawares? His garments are red with the blood of the grape, and his temples are bound with a sheaf of ripe wheat. His hair is thin, and begins to fall, and the auburn is mixed with mournful gray. He shakes the brown nuts from the tree. He winds the horn, and calls the hunters to their sport. The gun sounds. The trembling partridge and the beautiful pheasant flutter, bleeding in the air, and fall dead at the sportsman's feet. Youths and maidens, tell me, if ye know, who he is, and what is his name.

Who is he that cometh from the north, in furs and warm wool? He wraps his cloak close about him. His head is bald; his beard is made of sharp icicles. He loves the blazing fire high piled upon the hearth, and the wine sparkling in the glass. He binds skates to his feet, and skims over the frozen lakes. His breath is piercing and cold, and no little flower dares to peep above the surface of the ground when he is by. Whatever he touches turns to ice. Youths and maidens, do you see him? He is coming upon us, and soon will be here. Tell me, if ye know, who he is, and what is his name.