Is hushed, for no birdlings are here.

"The woodlands no longer are shady and sweet,
Dry leafage encumbers the ground;
The pathways, once verdant and soft to my feet,
In fetters of ice are bound.

"The pride of the barn-yard sits humped with the cold,
One frozen foot under his wing;
And the sheep huddle closely, for warmth, in their fold;
The ice tyrant reigns as king."

She turns from this picture of ruin and death,
And seeks the broad casement again;
And, lo! from the dews of her wasted breath
Great forests have grown on the pane.

Such beautiful trees! such ferns! and such flowers!
Such rivers and mountains bold!
Such charming cascades! she gazes for hours,
And worships the ice king cold.



MALMO, THE WOUNDED RAT.

A poor man saw, by the roadside, a large white rat. It seemed
to be dead. Moving it gently he found it was alive, but had a
broken leg. He took it up and carried it to his lonely home. He
bound up the bruised leg, fed the poor creature, and soon it was