He sat at his door, one midsummer night,

After the sun had sunk in the west, And the lingering beams of golden light

Made his kindly old face look warm and bright, While the odorous night-wind whispered, "Rest!" Gently, gently, he bowed his head

There were angels waiting for him, I know, He was sure of happiness, living or dead, This jolly old pedagogue, long ago!

GEORGE ARNOLD.

BALLAD OF EARL HALDAN'S DAUGHTER

It was Earl Haldan's daughter,

She looked across the sea;

She looked across the water;

And long and loud laughed she:

"The locks of six princesses,

Must be my marriage fee,

So, hey, bonny boat, and ho, bonny boat!
Who comes a-wooing me?"

It was Earl Haldan's daughter,
She walked along the sand;

When she was aware of a knight so fair,

Came sailing to the land.

His sails were all of velvet,

His masts of beaten gold,

And "Hey, bonny boat, and ho, bonny boat!

Who saileth here so bold?”

"The locks of five princesses,
I won beyond the sea;
I clipt their golden tresses,
To fringe a cloak for thee.
One handful yet is wanting,

But one of all the tale;

So, hey, bonny boat, and ho, bonny boat!
Furl up thy velvet sail!"

He leapt into the water,

That rover, young and bold;
He gripped Earl Haldan's daughter,
He clipped her locks of gold:

"Go weep, go weep, proud maiden,

The tale is full to-day.

Now, hey, bonny boat, and ho, bonny boat!

Sail Westward ho! away!"

CHARLES KINGSLEY.

THE CHILDREN'S HOUR

BETWEEN the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations, That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,

The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,

Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence :
Yet I know by their merry eyes,
They are plotting and planning together,
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!

By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret

O'er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape, they surround me; They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,

Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.

And there I will keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,

Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,

And moulder in dust away!

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL

THE mountain and the squirrel

Had a quarrel,

And the former called the latter "Little Prig."

Bunn replied:

"You are doubtless very big,

But all sorts of things and weather

Must be taken in together

To make up a year

And a sphere;

And I think it no disgrace

To occupy my place.

If I'm not as large as you,

You are not so small as I,
And not half so spry;

I'll not deny you make

A very pretty squirrel track.

Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;
If I cannot carry forests on my back,

Neither can you crack a nut.”

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.