"Co, boss! co, boss! co! co! co!" Farther, farther over the hill, Faintly calling, calling still;

แ 'Co, boss! co, boss, co! co!"

Into the yard the farmer goes,
With grateful heart, at the close of day:
Harness and chain are hung away;

In the wagon shed stand yoke and plough;
The straw's in the stack, the hay in the mow
The cooling dews are falling;

The friendly sheep his welcome bleat,

The pigs come grunting to his feet,
The whinnying mare her master knows,
When into the yard the farmer goes,
His cattle calling-

"Co, boss! co, boss! co! co!" While still the cow boy far away, Goes seeking those that have gone astray66 'Co, boss! co, boss! co! co! co!"

Now to her task the milkmaid goes;
The cattle come crowding thro' the gate,
Lowing, pushing, little and great;
About the trough by the farm yard pump,
The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump,

While the pleasant dews are falling;
The new milch heifer is quick and shy,
But the old cow waits with tranquil eye!
And the white stream into the bright pail flows,

When to her task the milkmaid goes,

Soothingly calling

"So, boss! so, boss! so so! so!" The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool, And sits and milks in the twilight cool"Saying so, so! boss! so! so!"

To supper, at last, the farmer goes; The apples are pared, the papers read, The stories are told, then all to bed.

Without, the cricket's ceaseless song
Makes shrill the silence all night long.
The heavy dews are falling.
The housewife's hand has turned the lock;
Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock;
The household sinks to deep repose;
But still in sleep the farm boy goes
Singing, calling-

"Co, boss! co, boss! co! co! co!"
And oft the milkmaid, in her dreams,
Drums in the pail with the flashing streams,
Murmuring, "so, boss! so!"

ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.

MRS. GILMAN.

[In a lively vein.]

Will Wag went to see Charley Quirk—

More famed for his books than his knowledgeIn order to borrow a work

He had sought for in vain over college.

But Charley replied, "My dear friend,

You must know I have sworn and agreed
My books from my room not to lend,

But you may sit by my fire and read."

Now it happened by chance on the morrow,
That Quirk, with a cold quivering air,
Came, his neighbor Will's bellows to borrow,
For his own was quite out of repair.
But Willie replied, "My dear friend,

I have sworn and agreed, you must know,
That my bellows I never will lend,
But you may sit by my fire and blow!"

A HUNDRED YEARS TO COME.

ANON.

[In a solemn manner.]

Who'll press for gold this crowded street
A hundred years to come?
Who'll tread yon church, with willing feet,
A hundred years to come?

Pale, trembling age, and fiery youth,
And childhood with its brow of truth;
The rich and poor, on land and sea,
Where will the mighty millions be

A hundred years to come?

We all within our graves shall sleep
A hundred years to come!
No living soul for us shall weep
A hundred years to come.

But other men our lands shall till,
'And others, then, these streets will fill,
And other birds will sing as gay,
And bright the sun shine as to-day
A hundred years to come.

A SMILE.

ANON.

[With tenderness.]

How trifling, how simple a thing is a smile. How slight an exertion does it cost, yet how magical often are its results! Iow frequently does it dispel the clouds of gloom from the brow of care, lighting up with its warmth and genial radiance, like sunshine on the distant hills, the countenances of the sullen and the depressed.

Oftentimes, too, even the forbidden visage of melancholy and despair catches up and reflects back the gentle, hallowed light. Ohl

how many a weary heart has been made happy by a smile; how many a heavy load has seemed lighter from its heavenly influence. Friends, withhold not these little courtesies of life; be not penurious of your smiles and kind words; you dream not what a world of good, all unknown to you, they may accomplish. Scatter with a prodigal hand, and many a one travelling along life's dusty way will bless you in his or her heart of hearts!

ALL THINGS BEAUTIFUL.

JOHN KEBLE.

[Simply and lovingly.]

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,

Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors,
He made their tiny wings.

The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The morning, and the sunset
That lighteth up the sky.

The tall trees in the greenwood,

The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.

He gave us eyes to see them,

And lips, that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,

That hath made all things well.

SLEEP, BABY, SLEEP!

FROM THE GERMAN.

[Speak in a tender, soft tone of voice.]

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Thy father watches his sheep;
Thy mother is shaking the dreamland tree,
And down comes a little dream on thee.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep!

The large stars are the sheep,
The little stars are the lambs, I guess,
And the gentle moon is the shepherdess.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Our Saviour loves His sheep;

He is the Lamb of God on high,

Who for our sakes came down to die.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER.

JAMES T. FIELDS.

[Forcibly, but with tenderness in the last stanzas.]

We were crowded in the cabin,
Not a soul would dare to sleep-
It was midnight on the waters

And a storm was on the deep.

'Tis a fearful thing in winter

To be shattered by the blast,
And to hear the rattling trumpet
Thunder "Cut away the mast!"