“ Nobody wanted a boy or a man, for Donald, trusting to his inches and his coat, had applied for man's work also, but in vain. Mrs. Boyd was not astonished. She knew how hard it is to get one's foot into ever so small a corner in this busy world, where ten are always struggling for the place of one. Still, she also knew that it never does to give in; that one must leave no stone unturned if one wishes to get work at all. Also she believed firmly in an axiom of her youth—"Nothing is denied to well-directed labor." But it must be real hard "labor," and it must also be "well directed." ”

“ And the growing corn was trodden under the weight of armed feet, And every woman in Persia cursed the sound of a song too sweet, Cursed the insensate longing for life in the heart of a sick old man; But the king of Persia with all his armies marched on Masinderan. Many a day they marched in the sun till their silver armour was lead To sink their bodies into the grave, and many a man fell dead. And they passed the mouth of hell, and the shadowy country gray, Where the air is mist and the people mist and the rain more real than they. ”

“ And she thought a great deal about the dear Baby the Three Kings had gone to worship. She had no children of her own—nobody loved her—ah, if she had only gone! The more she brooded on the thought, the more miserable she grew, till the very sight of her home became hateful to her.
It is a dreadful feeling to realize that one has lost a chance of happiness. There is a feeling called remorse that can gnaw like a sharp little tooth. Babouscka felt this little tooth cut into her heart every time she remembered the visit of the Three Kings. ”

“ Majestic monarch of the cloud, Who rears't aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, And see the lightning-lances driven, When strive the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven— Child of the sun! to thee is given To guard the banner of the free, To hover in the sulphur smoke, To ward away the battle stroke, And bid its blendings shine afar, Like rainbows on the cloud of war, The harbingers of victory! Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph high, When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on. ”

“ Barefoot, trudging at his side, Thou hast more than he can buy, In the reach of ear and eye: Outward sunshine, inward joy. Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! O! for boyhood's painless play, Sleep that wakes in laughing day, Health that mocks the doctor's rules, Knowledge never learned of schools: Of the wild bee's morning chase, Of the wild flower's time and place, Flight of fowl, and habitude Of the tenants of the wood; How the tortoise bears his shell, How the woodchuck digs his cell, And the ground-mole sinks his well; How the robin feeds her young, How the oriole's nest is hung ”

“ She is only a poor little crooked wrinkled old woman, who comes at Christmas time into everybody's house, who peeps into every cradle, turns back every coverlid, drops a tear on the baby's white pillow, and goes away very, very sorrowful.
And not only at Christmas time, but through all the cold winter, and especially in March, when the wind blows loud, and whistles and howls and dies away like a sigh, the Russian children hear the rustling step of the Babouscka. She is always in a hurry. One hears her running fast along the crowded streets and over the quiet country fields. ”

“ Now you know for whom she is sadly seeking when she pushes back the bed-curtains and bends down over each baby's pillow. Sometimes, when the old grandmother sits nodding by the fire, and the bigger children sleep in their beds, old Babouscka comes hobbling into the room, and whispers softly, "Is the young Child here?"
Ah, no; she has come too late, too late. But the little children know her and love her. Two thousand years ago she lost the chance of finding Him. Crooked, wrinkled, old, sick and sorry, she yet lives on, looking into each baby's face—always disappointed, always seeking. ”

“ Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well, Gathering seed for the hungry brood. Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; This new life is likely to be Hard for a gay young fellow like me. Chee, chee, chee. Robert of Lincoln at length is made Sober with work, and silent with care; Off is his holiday garment laid, Half forgotten that merry air, Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Nobody knows but my mate and I Where our nest and our nestlings lie. Chee, chee, chee. Summer wanes; the children are grown; Fun and frolic no more he knows ”

“ And as if this was not enough, one day the sound of hoofs was heard again, and a rider in uniform clattered up to the door saying:
"Comrade, I am sent to tell you that your pension is stopped! His Majesty cannot count a thief any longer a soldier of his!"
After this the old soldier hardly held up his head at all, and his hair, that had kept black as a coal all these years, turned white as the moors when the winter snows lay on them.
"Though that is all the same, Peggy," he used to say, "for it is winter all the year round with me! If I could only die as the old year does! ”

“ Listen, Viny!"
But the small figure flung itself into a heap on the floor so suddenly that she nearly pulled her young mistress with her, while the little black hands clapped themselves over the bead like eyes, wail after wail of disappointment making the room to ring.
"Will you STOP!" cried Caryl in perfect despair. "Aunt Sylvia's head will snap with your noise! If you don't stop crying, Viny, you sha'n't go when the rest of us are ready to move, so there, now."
Threats had the power to do what nothing else could. ”

“ With buttoned door and dropped curtains the little woman made haste to array herself in her finest raiment. In five minutes she reappeared in the kitchen, a picture pleasant to look at. In all New England, there could not be a more beautiful little old lady than Martha Moulton was that day. Her hair was guiltless now of cobwebs, but haloed her face with fluffy little curls of silvery whiteness, above which, like a crown, was a little cap of dotted muslin, pure as snow. ”

“ LAWRENCE PORCHER HEXT. A game of marbles We were having one day, When Baby chanced to come along that way. Too little he was to join our game, But he pocketed our marbles just the same.
THE BAREFOOT BOY. Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan; With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace! From my heart I give thee joy; I was once a barefoot boy. Prince thou art—the grown-up man Only is republican. ”

“ There were bonfires, and bell-ringings then, and from that day onward England loved and cherished every man who had fought at Waterloo—from the "Duke" himself down to the plainest private, every one was a hero and a veteran.
In one of the humblest houses of a proud nobleman's estate, a low, whitewashed cottage, one of these veterans lived not so very many years ago. He had fought by his flag in one of the most gallant regiments until the last hour of the battle, and then had fallen disabled from active service for the rest of his life. ”

“ It is like keeping a dog, and barking yourself. Which is only too true," added Donald, with a heavy sigh.
"May be," said Mrs. Boyd. Yet as she looked up at her son—she really did look up at him, he was so tall—she felt that if his honest, intelligent face and manly bearing did not win something at last, what was the world coming to? "My boy," she said, "things are very hard for you, but not harder than for others. I remember once, when I was only a few years older than you, finding myself with only half a crown in my pocket. ”

“ No, she will not stop; only on Christmas eve will she come up-stairs into the nursery and give each little one a present. You must not think she leaves handsome gifts such as Santa Klaus brings for you. She does not bring bicycles to the boys or French dolls to the girls. She does not come in a gay little sleigh drawn by reindeer, but hobbling along on foot, and she leans on a crutch. She has her old apron filled with candy and cheap toys, and the children all love her dearly. They watch to see her come, and when one hears a rustling, he cries, "Lo! the Babouscka!" ”

“ Tears came streaming from the old soldier's listeners by this time, and each vied with the other in heaping honors and gifts in place of the disgrace suffered so long; but all that was powerless to make up for the past.
Two good lessons may be learned from the story: Never believe any one guilty who is not really proved to be so. Never let false shame keep you from confessing the truth, whether trifling or of importance.
What are the children doing today, Down on the nursery floor, That baby laughter and crows of delight Float through the open door? ”

“ The regimental roll when called on Lookout's crest that night Was more than doubled by the roll Death called in realms of light. Just as the sun sank slowly down behind the mountain's crest, When mountain peaks gave back the fire that flamed along the west, Swift riding down along the ridge upon a charger white, Came "Fighting Joe," the hero now of Lookout's famous fight. He swung his cap as tears of joy slow trickled down his cheek, And as our cheering died away, the general tried to speak. He said, "Boys, I'll court-martial you, yes, every man that's here ”

“ Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given; Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With freedom's soil beneath our feet, And freedom's banner streaming o'er us? JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. We will swing the rope for Baby dear, So jump, jump, jump! That you will trip her up I fear, But jump, jump, jump! ”

“ Presently he rushed back to the house with cheeks aflame and eyes ablaze with excitement. "They're a coming!" he cried. "They're in sight down by the rocks. They see 'em marching, the men on the hill, do!"
"You don't mean that its really true that the soldiers are coming here, RIGHT INTO OUR TOWN," cried Martha Moulton, rising in haste and bringing together with rapid flourishes to right and to left, every fragment of silver on the table. ”

“ Conrad lived in Ohio—a German he is, you know— The house stood in broad corn-fields, stretching on, row after row; The old folks made me welcome; they were kind as kind could be But I kept longing, longing, for the hills of Tennessee. O, for a sight of water, the shadowed slope of a hill! Clouds that hang on the summit, a wind that is never still But the level land went stretching away to meet the sky— Never a rise, from north to south, to rest the weary eye! From east to west, no river to shine out under the moon, Nothing to make a shadow in the yellow afternoon ”

“ The men of that day are long dead. The same soil holds regulars and minute-men. England, who over-ruled, and the provinces, that put out brave hands to seize their rights, are good friends to-day, and have shaken hands over many a threshold of hearty thought and kind deeds since that time.
The tree of Liberty grows yet, stately and fair, for the men of the Revolution planted it well and surely. God himself HATH given it increase. So we gather to-day, in this our story, a forget-me-not more, from the old town of Concord. ”

“ In very despair, she ran to her house, seized two pails, filled them with greater haste than she had ever drawn water before, and, regardless of Uncle John's imprecations, carried them forth, one in either hand, the water dripping carelessly down the side breadths of her fair silk gown, her silvery curls tossed and tumbled in white confusion, her pleasant face aflame with eagerness, and her clear eyes suffused with tears. ”

“ ANON. "Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?" "Yes sir, yes sir three bags full; One for my master and one for my dame, And one for the little boy who lives in the lane." Tommy Bangs looks quite smart, Driving along in his new goat cart, But Tommy's not one of your selfish boys, With every baby he shares his joys, Takes them to ride and lets them drive, Of course, they like Tommy The best boy alive. ”

“ She leaned far out on the window sill, And shook it forth with a royal will. "Shoot if you must this old gray head,— But spare your country's flag," she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word. "Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!" he said. All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet. All day long that free flag tossed Over the heads of the rebel host; Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well ”

“ But stealing reputation seems a meaner thing to me. A letter in the Herald says some generals allow That there wa'n't no fight where Lookout rears aloft its shaggy brow; But this coat sleeve swinging empty here beside me, boy, to-day, Tells a mighty different story in a mighty different way. When sunbeams flashed o'er Mission Ridge that bright November morn, The misty cap on Lookout's crest gave token of a storm; For grim King Death had draped the mount in grayish, smoky shrouds— Its craggy peaks were lost to sight above the fleecy clouds. ”

“ Uncle John was writhing under the sharp thorns and twinges of his old enemy, and in no frame of mind to receive any overtures in the shape of catnip tea; nevertheless, he was watching, as well as he was able, the motions of the enemy. As she drew near he cried out:
"Look out this window, and see! Much GOOD all your scheming will do YOU!"
She obeyed his command to look, and the sight she then saw caused her to let fall the cup of catnip tea and rush down the stairs, wringing her hands as she went and crying out:
"Oh, dear! what shall I do? The house will burn and the box up garret. ”