Where the wolf and arctic fox
Prowl along the lonely rocks,
And tardy suns to deserts drear,
Give days and nights of half a year;
From icy oceans, where the whale
Tosses in foam his lashing tail;
Where the snorting sea-horse 2 shows
His ivory teeth in grinning rows;
Where, tumbling in their seal-skin boat,
Fearless the hungry fishers float,
And from teeming 3 seas supply
The food their niggard plains deny."

MISS AIKEN.

* 57 *

PUSSY'S CLASS.

"Now, children," said Puss, as she shook her head, "It is time your morning lesson was said." So her kittens drew near, with footsteps slow, And sat down before her, all in a row.

"Attention, class!" said the cat-mamma,
"And tell me quick where your noses are.'
At this all the kittens sniffed the air,
As if it were filled with a perfume 5 rare.

1 Far up in the arctic region the sun does not set for six months, and

then comes a night of six months.

2 sea-horse, the walrus.

3 teeming, full of fish.

4 niggard, barren.

5 perfume, a sweet odor.

"Now, what do you say when you want some

drink?"

The kittens waited a moment to think,

And then the answer came, clear and loud

You ought to have heard how those kittens meow'd!

Very well! 'Tis the same, with a sharper tone, When you want some fish, or a bit of bone. Now what do you say when children are good?" And the kittens purred as soft as they could.

"And what do you do when children are bad? When they tease and pull?" Each kitty looked

sad.

"Pooh!" said their mother, "that isn't enough; You must use your claws when children are rough.

"And where are your claws? No, no, my dear!" (As she took up a paw), "see, they're hidden here." Then all the kittens crówded about

To see their sharp little claws brought out.

"Now, 'Sptss' as hard as you can,” she said; But every kitten hung down its head.

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Sptss!' I say," cried the mother-cat,

But they said, "O mamma, we can't do that!"

"Then go and play," said the fond mamma: "What sweet little idiots kittens are! Ah well! I was once the same, I suppose," And she looked very wise, and rubbed her nose.

MARY MAPES DODGE.

* 58 *

RANGER.

A LITTLE boat in a cave,

And a child there, fast asleep, Floating out on a wave,

Out to the perilous deep; Out to the living waters

That brightly dance and gleam, And dash their foam about him, To wake him from his dream.

He rubs his pretty eyes,

He shakes his curly head, And says, with great surprise,

66

Why, I'm not asleep in bed!"
The boat is rising and sinking
Over the sailors' graves;
And he laughs out, "Isn't it nice
Playing see-saw with the waves?"

Alas! he little thinks

Of the grief on the far-off sands, Where his mother trembles and shrinks, And his sister wrings her hands,

Watching in speechless terror

The boat and the flaxen head.

Is there no hope of succor?

Must they see him drowned and dead?

He stands on the giddy prow,
With a merry laugh and shout.

Oh, spare him! spare him! spare him!
Spare him, thou cruel deep!

-The child is swept from the prow,
And the wild waves dance and leap.

They run to the edge of the shore,
They stretch their arms to him;
Knee-deep they wade, and more;
But alas! they cannot swim.
Their pretty, pretty darling!
His little hat floats by;
They see his frightened face,
They hear his drowning cry.

Something warm and strong
Dashes before them then,

Hairy and curly and long,
And brave as a dozen men;
Bounding, panting, gasping,
Rushing straight as a dart;
Ready to die in the cause, -
A dog with a loyal heart!

He fights with the fighting sea,
He grandly wins his prize;
Mother! he brings it thee

With triumph in his eyes.
He brings it thee, O mother!
His burden, pretty and pale;

He lays it down at thy feet,
And wags his honest old tail.

O dog so faithful and bold!

O dog so tender and true!
You shall wear a collar of gold,
And a crown, if you like it, too.
O Ranger! in love and honor,
Your name shall be handed down,
And children's hearts shall beat
At the story of your renown!

* 59 *

POEMS FOR A CHILD.

GRANDPAPA.

GRANDPAPA's hair is very white,
And grandpapa walks but slow;
He likes to sit still in his easy-chair
While the children come and go.
"Hush! play quietly," says mamma;
"Let nobody trouble dear grandpapa."

Grandpapa's hand is thin and weak,

It has worked hard all his days,A strong right hand, and an honest hand, That has won all good men's praise. "Kiss it tenderly," says mamma; "Let every one honor grandpapa."

Grandpapa's eyes are growing dim,

They have looked on sorrow and death;