I've but a glimpse of two eyes very bright.
Two little hands a wee face try to screen:
Baby is hiding, that's plain to be seen.
"Where is my precious I've missed so all day?"
"Papa can't find me!" the pretty lips say.

"Dear me! I wonder where baby can be!"
Then I go by, and pretend not to see.
"Not in the parlor, and not on the stairs?
Then I must peep under sofas and chairs."
The dear little rogue is now laughing outright,
Two little arms round my neck clasp me tight.
Home will indeed be sad, weary, and lone,
When papa can't find you, my darling, my own.


GEORGE COOPER.




THE SOLDIER-DOG.


I have been reading in "The Nursery" the story about Mellie Hoyt and his
dog Major. My papa often tells me about another good old dog, named
Major. He was a soldier-dog, that papa knew when he went to the war.

Major was a kind dog to all his friends; but he would bark at strangers,
and sometimes he would bite them. He once tried to bite a steam-engine