The fire burns on the hearth,

Where tempting fruit and charming books abound; Love opens springs of mirth,

Where radiant hopes and bubbling joys are found.

The skies hang cold and gray; Among the hills the winds begin to blow; Herds strike their homeward way;

And earth grows white and strange with flying snow.

-J. Hazard Hartzell.

THREE CUNNING CRABS.

THE

HERE'S a spider crab that lives in the sea,
O, he's just as wise as wise can be!
And he sits on a rock,

In his little shell frock,

Plotting against the shining fishes,
That make such charming, delicate dishes.

Of all the crabs that live under the sea,
He's the slyest crab that ever can be;
With many a lunge,

He prys open a sponge,

While he rests on his back, and floats along,
Catching unthinking fish with pincers strong.

There's a fiddler crab that lives in the sea,
With a pincer as long as long can be;
And he fiddles away,

In the midst of the spray,

Till he wears his arms to quite a hard crust,
Or beckons aloft, for rest he must.

There's a cocoanut crab that's fond of the land, With hammers and spoons he travels the sand; With right heavy raps

The hard nut he taps,

Till the eye of the nut is quite thrust in,
And he dips out the meat with a knowing grin.

-Dorothy Wood.

F

THE CORAL INSECT.

AR adown the silent ocean,

Where the sunbeams never fall,

Never comes the storm's commotion,

Dwells the coral insect small.

Very weak and small is he,

But he wastes no time away;

Ever toiling, ever busy,

Building up to meet the day.

Days and months and years are going,
Still he climbs to seek the sun;
Every hour his work is growing
Till the coral reef is done.
Onward, upward, progress making,
Branch by branch, and cell by cell,
Till, above the billows breaking,
All the work is finished well.

Boys and girls, come learn a lesson
Of the coral insect small;
Learn to persevere and press on
Till your work is finished all.

DE

Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove, Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with the falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Far down in the green and glassy brine. The floor is of sand, like the mountain's drift, And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow; From coral rocks the sea-plants lift.

Their boughs where the tides and billows flow. The water is calm and still below,

For the winds and waves are absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air.

There, with its waving blade of green,

The sea-flag streams through the silent water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen

To blush, like a banner bathed in slaughter. There, with a light and easy motion,

The fan-coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea; And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean

Are bending, like corn on the upland lea:
And life, in rare and beautiful forms,

Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,
And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms
Has made the top of the wave his own :
And when the ship from his fury flies,

Where the myriad voices of ocean roar,
When the wind god frowns in the murky skies,
And demons are waiting the wreck on the shore,
Then far below, in the peaceful sea,

The purple mullet and goldfish rove,

And the waters murmur tranquilly

Through the bending twigs of the coral grove.

-James Gates Percival.

O

THE RIVIERA.

PEERLESS shore of peerless sea,

Ere mortal eye had gazed on thee,
What god was lover first of thine,
Drank deep of thy unvintaged wine,
And lying on thy shining breast
Knew all thy passion and thy rest;
And when thy love he must resign,
O generous god, first love of thine,
Left such a dower of wealth to thee,
Thou peerless shore of peerless sea!
Thy balmy air, thy stintless sun,
Thy orange-flowering never done,
Thy myrtle, olive, palm, and pine,
Thy golden figs, thy ruddy wine,

Thy subtle and resistless spell,
Which all men feel and none can tell?
O peerless shore of peerless sea!
From all the world we turn to thee;
No wonder deem we thee divine!
Some god was lover first of thine.

- Helen Hunt Jackson.

THE PETRIFIED FERN.

a valley, centuries ago,

INrew a little fern leaf, green and

slender,

Veining delicate and fibers ten

der;

Waving when the wind crept

down so low;

Rushes tall, and moss, and grass

grew round it,

Playful sunbeams darted in and

found it,

Drops of dew stole in by night, and crowned it,
But no foot of man e'er trod that way;
Earth was young and keeping holiday.

Monster fishes swam the silent main,
Stately forests waved their giant branches,
Mountains hurled their snowy avalanches,
Mammoth creatures stalked across the plain.
Nature reveled in grand mysteries;
But the little fern was not of these,

Did not number with the hills and trees,