Who is it coos just like a dove?
Who is it that we dearly love--
The brightest blessing from above?
Our baby.

While silent watch the angels keep,
Who smiles so sweetly in his sleep,
And oft displays his dimples deep.
Our baby.

[Illustration: POLLY PLAYING OFF A TRICK ON PUSS.]




THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER.


We were crowded in the cabin,
Not a soul would dare to sleep,--
It was midnight on the waters,
And a storm was on the deep.

'Tis a fearful thing in winter
To be shattered by the blast,
And to hear the rattling trumpet
Thunder, "Cut away the mast!"

So we shuddered there in silence,--
For the stoutest held his breath,