the dung-hill, ducks and geese dipping or swimming in the pond, pigs grunting, cows, calves, and a pet lamb, who as soon as he saw them, came out of a barn, and ran up to Lucas, that he might stroke and play with him; but he was full of tricks, and when Charles or Helen went near him, he strove to butt them with his young horns. He would not eat out of their hands; but he took all that Lucas gave him. In the same barn that the lamb came out of, was a goat with two young kids. The goat, the kids, the lamb, the calves, all were fond of Lucas, for he had a kind heart, and would not hurt the smallest insect.

Charles and Helen stayed that day to dine with Lucas, of whom they grew more and more fond each moment they were with him. He was a boy of a sweet, gentle temper, and won the kindness of all who came to his house. He drew as well as he wrote, and knew all the things that a deaf and dumb boy could learn. He had a box of tools, and had made a bird-cage, and a neat desk to write on. It is a sad thing to be deaf and dumb, for much of what boys learn at school, and which it is right to know, cannot be taught to a deaf and dumb child.

THE CHILD AND THE LAMB.

My pretty lamb, with snowy fleece,
With low and tender bleat,
And feet that o'er the daisies fly
So soundless and so fleet,

To meet me when I come in sight,
Through sunshine or through showers;
How merry you and I have been
Among the meadow flowers.

I never found you cross or tired,
The whole long summer day;
I never knew you leave my side,
Nor yet refuse to play.
There's none of all my

school-fellows

That love me now like you; And I had many a pet before, But none that seemed so true.

They brought me in a robin once
That had a broken wing;

I nursed him all the winter, but
He flew away in spring.

The next it was a lovely squirrel,

So full of tricks and fun

But he left me in the wood one day,
At the setting of the sun.

You will not leave me too, my lamb;
But sometimes in my sleep

I grieve to dream that you have
An old and quiet sheep;

grown

That only minds the grass all day,

And never lifts its eyes,

Like all your friends in yonder field,
So woolly and so wise.

Thus talked poor Lucy to her lamb,
With arms about it twined,
Till her good, father passed and spoke
To her in words as kind:

"So must my little rosy girl,

That now so blithely plays,

From childhood grow to woman's cares, To woman's works and ways.

"A world of hopes and fears, beyond
Her early playmate's lot,
Awaits my Lucy, when her sports
And pets are all forgot.

Yet may she still its innocence
Her fair example hold,

And live a meek and guileless lamb
In our good Shepherd's fold."

MY MOTHER.

Of all the pretty words I know,
Or ever yet have heard,
That sweetest from the lips can flow,
"MY MOTHER" is the word.

Its gentle music most endears
From childhood's guileless tongue,
But still its sound in riper years
Can make the heart feel young;

Can make it dream of childhood blest,
And tears of gladness weep,
While pillowed on her gentle breast,
And softly sung to sleep.

When pain or sickness bowed the head,

And claimed her tender care,

A guardian angel o'er my bed
My Mother still was there.

"Twas she who taught my heart to pray,

And trust in God above,

Through faith in the enduring stay
Of Christ's Redeeming love.

BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES.

BUTTERCUPS and daisies,--
Oh! the pretty flowers,-
Coming ere the spring time,
To tell of sunny hours.
While the trees are leafless,
While the fields are bare,
Buttercups and daisies fine
Spring up here and there.

Ere the snow-drop peepeth,
Ere the crocus bold,
Ere the early primrose
Opes its paly gold,
Somewhere on a sunny bank

Buttercups are bright;

Somewhere, 'mong the frozen grass,

Peeps the daisy white.

Little. hardy flowers,

Like to children poor,

Playing, in their sturdy health,
By their mother's door:
Purple with the north-wind,
Yet alert and bold,

Fearing not and caring not,
Though the wind be cold.