She hung her head repenting,
And trying to be good,

But her little hand stroked tenderly
The leg of flesh and blood!

And with her rosy mouth she kiss'd
The knickerbocker'd knee,

And sigh'd, "Perhaps - if you insist-
You'd better go to sea!"

Then he flung his arms about her,
And laughingly he spoke,
"But I've seen many honest tars
With legs of British oak!
Oh, darling! when I am a man,
With beard of shining black,
I'll be a hero if I can,

And you must not hold me back."

She kissed him as she answered,
"I'll try what I can do,

And Wellington had both his legs,
And Coeur de Lion too!

And Garibaldi," here she sighed,
"I know he's lame- but there-

He's such a hero-none beside

Like him could do and dare!"

So the children talked in the twilight
Of many a setting sun,

And she'd stroke his chin and clap her hands
That the beard had not begun;

For though she meant to be brave and good
When he played a hero's part,

Yet often the thought of the wooden leg
Lay heavy on her heart!

HOW'S MY BOY?

SIDNEY DObell.

Ho, sailor of the sea!
How's my boy-my boy?

"What's your boy's name, good wife,
And in what good ship sailed he?”

What care I for the ship, sailor?

My boy's my boy to me.

You come back from sea

And not know my John?

I might as well have asked some landsman

Yonder down in the town.

There's not an ass in all the parish

But he knows my John.

How's my boy-my boy?

And unless you let me know
I'll swear you are no sailor,
Blue jacket or no,

Brass button or no, sailor,
Anchor and crown or no!

Sure his ship was the Jolly Briton"Speak low, woman, speak low!"

And why should I speak low, sailor,
About my own boy John?

If I was loud as I am proud
I'd sing him over the town!
Why should I speak low, sailor?
"That good ship went down."

How's my boy-my boy?
What care I for the ship, sailor,
I never was aboard her.

Be she afloat, or be she aground,
Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound
Her owners can afford her!

I say, how's my John?

Every man on board went down,

Every man aboard her."

How's my boy-my boy?

What care I for the men, sailor?

I'm not their mother

How's my boy-my boy?

Tell me of him and no other!

How's my boy

- my boy?

LITTLE BELL.

T. B. WESTWOOD.

PIPED the blackbird on the beechwood spray : "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way,

What's your name?". quoth he

"What's your name? Oh, stop and straight unfold, Pretty maid with showery curls of gold," — "Little Bell," said she.

Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks Tossed aside her gleaming golden locks — "Bonny bird," quoth she,

"Sing me your best song before I go."
"Here's the very finest song I know,
Little Bell," said he.

And the blackbird piped; you never heard
Half so gay a song from any bird; —
Full of quips and wiles,

Now so round and rich, now soft and slow,
All for love of that sweet face below,
Dimpled o'er with smiles.

And the while the bonny bird did pour
His full heart out freely o'er and o'er,
'Neath the morning skies,

In the little childish heart below,

All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
And shine forth in happy overflow

From the blue, bright eyes.

Down the dell she tripped, and through the glade Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade,

And, from out the tree

Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear, — While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear, "Little Bell!" piped he.

66

Little Bell sat down amid the fern :
Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return-
Bring me nuts," quoth she.

Up, away the frisky squirrel hies-
Golden wood-lights glancing in his eyes-
And adown the tree,

Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun,
In the little lap, dropped one by one;-
Hark, how blackbird pipes to see the fun!
"Happy Bell!" pipes he.

Little Bell looked up and down the glade;
Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid,

66

Come and share with me!"

Down came squirrel, eager for his fare,—
Down came bonny blackbird, I declare!
Little Bell gave each his honest share;
Ah, the merry three!

And the while these frolic playmates twain Piped and frisked from bough to bough again, 'Neath the morning skies,

In the little childish heart below,

All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,