READY FOR A KISS.

MA Don't you see I has?

AMMA, I's been washin',

Curled my hair my own self,

Sweetest ever was.
Nozzer time I was not
Half as nice as this;

See! I's fixed up, mamma,
Ready for a kiss.

Johnnie's having trouble,
Dreffle trouble, too:
Bird-eggs in his pocket,
Keeps a comin' through.
I ain't a dirty baby,

Does you think I is?
'Spect I's your pet Taddie,
Ready for a kiss.

Thought I'd put my Sunday

Apron on for fun,

'Cause I got cat fedders

On the ozzer one.

Le's p'etend things, mamma,

Say, now, don't you

Wis' I was a heathen,
So you couldn't kiss?

wis'

THE CHRISTIAN Weekly.

MORNING.

[The following is regarded one of the most sublime passages ever penned :,

As

S we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became more perceptible; the intense blue of the sky began to soften; the smaller stars, like little children, went first to rest; the sister beams of the Pleiades soon melted together; but the bright constellations of the west and north remained unchanged. Steadily the wondrous transfiguration went on. Hands of angels hidden from mortal eyes shifted the scenery of the heavens; the glories of night dissolved into the glories of the dawn. The blue sky now turned more softly gray; the great watchstars shut up their holy eyes; the east began to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed along the sky; the whole celestial concave was filled with the inflowing tides of the morning light, which came pouring down from above in one great ocean of radiance; till at length, as we reached the Blue Hills, a flash of purple fire blazed out from above the horizon, and turned the dewy teardrops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In a few seconds the everlasting gates of the morning were thrown wide open, and the lord of day, arrayed in glories too severe for the gaze of man, began his state.

EVERETT.

THE BRAVE AT HOME.

[Extract from "The Wagoner of the Alleghanies."]

THE maid who binds her warrior's sash,

THE

With smile that well her pain dissembles,

The while beneath her drooping lash

One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles,

Though Heaven alone records the tear,
And fame shall never know the story,
Her heart has shed a drop as dear
As e'er bedewed the field of glory.

The wife who girds her husband's sword,
Mid little ones who weep or wonder,
And bravely speaks the cheering word,
What though her heart be rent asunder,
Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear
The bolts of death around him rattle,
Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er

Was poured upon a field of battle!

The mother who conceals her grief,
While to her breast her son she

presses,
Then breathes a few brave words and brief,
Kissing the patriot brow she blesses,
With no one but her secret God

To know the pain that weighs upon her, Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod

Received on Freedom's field of honor!

T. BUCHANAN READ.

THE SWELL'S SOLILOQUY.

I DON'T appwove this hawid waw

And

Those dweadful bannahs hawt my eyes;
guns and dwums are such a baw:
Why don't the pawties compwamise?

Of cawce the twoilet has its chawms;
But why must all the vulgah cwowd
Pawsist in spawting unifawms,
In cullahs so extwemely loud?

And then the ladies-pwecious deahs!
I mawk the change on ev'wy bwow;
Bai Jove! I weally have my feahs

They wathah like the hawid waw !

To heah the chawming cweatures talk,
Like patwons of the bloody wing,
Of waw and all its dawty wawk,
It doesn't seem a pwappah thing.

I called at Mrs. Gween's last night
To see her niece, Miss Mawy Hertz,
And found her making-cwushing sight-
The weddest kind of flannel shirts!

Of cawce I wose and sought the daw
With fuwy flashing from my eyes!
I can't appwove this hawid waw ;
Why don't the pawties compwamise?

Only a tongue that wags,
Loudly and oft.

Only a little brain,
Empty of thought!
Only a little heart,
Troubled with naught.

Only a tender flower,
Sent us to rear!
Only a life to love,

While we are here.

Only a baby small,

Never at rest!

Small, but how dear to us,

God knoweth best!

ADDIE LAYTON.

MAN'S INGRATITUDE.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh, ho! sing heigh, ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. Then heigh, ho! the holly!

This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky

Thou dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot: