ksul-uasc-mscc208_002

WHY?
O! why do we love it- the world with its cares,-
Its paths all beset with temptations and snares?
O! why do we love it-its few little joys
So strangely mixed up with so much that annoys?
O why, since so much has cheated us sore,
Why still do we cherish and trust it the more?
Why bask in the smile which it deigns to bestow,
When sure that it smiles but to lure us to woe?
O! why do we covet its glittering toys,
Which cannot (missing) for a moment our joys,
Which soon will erode and grow dim as we gaze,
Till ashes above tell the place of their blaze?
O! why do we live for the few struggling beams
Which come now and then through its cloud-rifted
(Missing)eams?
O! why do we cling to its loves which decay,
And its meaningless friendships just born for a day?
O! why do we seek for its honors--its power,
So soon do they fly in adversity's hour?
O! why since its rough winds blow blightingly chill
O're all that we love, do we cling to it still?
Begone, fickle world, with yourcharms, from my
heart,
I'm chilled with your coldness, I tire of your art,
If aught that is real to mortal be given,
O! Let it be mine till I rest me in heaven.
Northern Independent.
134

SOMETHING CHEAP.
There's not a cheaper thing on earth,
Nor yet one half so dear;
'Tis worth more than distinguished birth,
Or thousands gained a year;
It lends the day a new delight;
'Tis virtue's firmest shield;
And adds more beauty to the night
Than all the stars may yield.
It maketh poverty content,
To sorrow whispers peace;
It is a gift from Heaven sent
For mortals to increase;
It meets you with a smile at morn;
It lulls you to repose;
A flower for peer and peasant born,
An everlasting rose.
A charm to banish grief away,
To snatch the frown from care ;
Turn tears to smiles, make dullness gay-
Spread gladness everywhere;
And yet 'tis cheap as summer dew,
That gems the lily's breast;
A talisman for love, as true
As ever man possessed.
As smiles the rainbow through the cloud
When threatening storm begins-
As music 'mid the tempest loud,
That still its sweet way wins-
As springs an arch across the tide,
Where waves conflicting foam,
So comes this seraph to our side,
This angel of our home.
What may this wondrous spirit be,
With power unheard before-
This charm, this bright divinity?
Good temper!-nothing more!
Good temper!- tis the choicest gift
That woman homeward brings,
And can the poorest peasant lift
To bliss unknown to kings.
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For the Companion

SONG
Sing a low song!
A tender cradle measure, soft and low
Not sad nor long,
But such as we remember long ago,
When Time, now old, was flying
Over the sunny seasons, bright and fleet,
And the red rose was lying
Amongst a crowd of flowers all too sweet.
Sing o'er the bier!
The bell is swinging in the time-worn tower;
He's gone who late was here,
As fresh as manhood in its lustiest hour.
A song to each brief season,
Winter and shining summer, doth belong, --
For some sweet human reason,--
O'er cradle or the coffin still a song.
Barry Cornwall

MY "GOOD FOR NOTHING."
What are you good for, my brave little man?
Answer that question for me, if you can-
You, with your fingers as white as a nun,
You, with your ringlets as bright as the sun.
All the day long with your busy contriving,
Into all mischief and fun you are driving;
See if your wise little noddle can tell
What you are good for- now ponder it well.
Over the carpet the dear little feet
Came with the patter to climb on my seat;
Two merry eyes, full of frolic and glee,
Under the lashes looked up unto me;
Two little hands pressing soft on my face,
Drew me down close in a loving embrace;
Two rosy lips gave the answer so true-
"Good to love you, mamma! good to love you!"
Emily Huntington Miller
_----
Kate S.
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MY WINTER FRIEND.
The chickadee, the chickadee,-
A chosen friend of mine is he.
His head and throat are glossy black;
He wears a gray coat on his back;
His vest is light- 'tis almost white;
His eyes are round, and clear, and bright.

He picks the seeds from withered weeds;
Upon my table- crumbs he feeds;
He comes and goes through falling snows;
The freezing wind around him blows-
He heeds it not; his heart is gay
As if it were the breeze of May.

The whole day long he sings one song,
Though dark the sky may be;
And better than all other birds
I love the chickadee!

The bluebird coming in the spring,
The goldfinch with his yellow wing,
The humming-bird that feeds on pinks
And roses, and the bobolinks,
The robins gay, the sparrows gray,-
They all delight me while they stay.

But when, ah me! they chance to see
A red leaf on the maple-tree,
They all cry, "O, we dread the snow!"
And spread their wings in haste to go;
But, when they all have southward flown,
The chickadee remains alone.

A bird that stays in wintry days,
A friend indeed is he;
And better than all other birds
I love the chickadee!
----------------------Nursery.

WHAT TO DO.
When any person's clothing takes fire it is seldom
of any use to give directions to the sufferer. Indeed,
it is generally best to say not a word, but seize a blanket,
a woolen cloak, or any woolen material- hold the corners
as far apart as you can, stretch them out higher than
your head, and, running boldly to the person, make a
motion of clasping in the arms, mostly about the
shoulders. This instantly smothers the fire and saves the
face. The next instant throw the person on the floor.
This is an additional safety to the face and breast, and any
remnant of flame can be put out more leisurely.
Dry flour is one of the most convenient remedies for burns,
and is excellent. It causes relief from pain by totally excluding
the air from the injured parts. Dredge on a thick layer of flour,
and cover with cotton batting.
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A glow-worm sat on the grass;
As I passed through the woods I found it.
Bright as a diamond it shone,
With a halo of light around it.

A toad came up from the fen;
It was ugly in every feature;
Like a thief it crept to the worm,
And spat on the shining creature.

"What have I done," said the grub.
"As I sat here in silence nightly?"
"Nothing," replied the toad,
"But why did you shine so brightly?"
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