But I've seen it all the bleak winter through."

"I came betimes," sang the southwind, "I!"
"After me, love!" spake the deep blue sky.
"Who is it cares?" chimed the crickets gay:
"Now you are here, let us hope you'll stay."

Whispered the sun, "Lo! the winter's past:
What does it matter who's first or last?
Sky, brooks, and flowers, and birdies that sing,
All help to make up the beautiful spring."

GEORGE COOPER.




OUR CHRISTMAS PLAY.


Our Emily wrote a play for our Christmas entertainment. Emily, Ruth,
Mary, and Uncle Peter, all took part in it. The curtain fell amid very
great applause from grandma, grandpa, father, and Uncle Charles,
Brothers Robert and John, Jane, the housemaid, Aunt Alice, and some six
of our cousins. So you see we had a good audience. As it is the only
play we have ever seen acted, we may be too partial critics; but readers
must judge for themselves.


(EMILY _enters with a basket of shoestrings_)