PLAY AND STUDY.

SOME play is good to make us strong,
And school to make us wise;
But playing always-that is wrong,
And what we should despise.

What can be worse than idleness,
For making children bad?

It surely leads them to distress,
And much that 's very sad.

Sometimes they learn to lie and cheat;
Sometimes to steal and swear:
These are the lessons in the street,
For those who wander there.

Better it is at school to learn
To think, and spell, and read;
And then to play and work in turn
Is happiness indeed.

DON'T KILL THE BIRDS.

DON'T kill the birds! the little birds
That sing about your door,
Soon as the joyous spring has come,
And chilling storms are o'er.

The little birds! how sweet they sing!
O! let them joyous live;

And do not seek to take the life
Which you can never give.

Don't kill the birds! -the pretty birds
That play among the trees!

"T would make the earth a cheerless place,
Should we dispense with these.

The little birds! how fond they play!
Do not disturb their sport;

But let them warble forth their songs,
Till winter cuts then. short.

Don't kill the birds! the happy birds
That bless the field and grove ;

So innocent to look upon,

They claim our warmest love.

The happy birds! the tuneful birds!
How pleasant 't is to see!

No spot can be a cheerless place
Where'er their presence be.

THE ANT AND THE CRICKET.

A SILLY young Cricket, accustomed to sing Through the warm, sunny months of gay summer and spring,

Began to complain, when he found that at home

Ilis cupboard was empty, and winter was come.

Not a crumb to be found

On the snow-covered ground;
Not a flower could he see;

Not a leaf on a tree;

"O, what will become," says the Cricket, “of me.”
At last, by starvation and famine made bold,
All dripping with wet, and all trembling with cold,
Away he set off to a miserly Ant,

To see if, to keep him alive, he would grant

Him shelter from rain, —

A mouthful of grain.

He wished only to borrow,

He'd repay it to-morrow;

If not, he must die of starvation and sorrow.

Says the Ant to the Cricket," I'm your servant and

friend,

But we Ants never borrow, we Ants never lend.

But tell me, dear sir, did you lay nothing by

When the weather was warm?"

Go, then,"

Said the Cricket, "Not I!

My heart was so light,
That I sang day and night,
For all nature looked gay."
“ You sang, sir, you say?

says

"and dance winter away the Ant, Thus ending, he hastily lifted the wicket,

And out of the door turned the poor little Cricket

Though this is a fable, the moral is good;

If you live without work, you must go without food.

WHAT I HATE TO SEE.

I HATE to see an idle dunce,
Who don't get up till eight,
Come slowly moping into school,
A half an hour too late.

I hate to see his shabby dress;
The buttons off his clothes;
With blacking on his hands and face,
Instead of on his shoes.

I hate to see a scholar gape
And yawn upon his seat,
Or lay his head upon his desk,
As if almost asleep.

I hate to see him in his class
Sit leaning on his neighbor,
As if to hold himself upright
Were such prodigious labor.

I hate to see a boy so rude

That one might think him raised .n some wild region of the woods, And but half civilized.

I hate to see a scholar's desk
With toys and playthings full,
As if to play with rattletraps

Were all he did at school.

I hate to see a shabby book,

With half the leaves torn out, And used as if its owner thought "T were made to toss about.

And now I've told you what I hate,
I'll only stop to say,

Perhaps I'll tell you what I love
Upon some other day.

MORNING THOUGHTS.

WHEN the morning, shining bright,
Bids me through the meadows stray,
While the lingering dews of night
Make each leaf and blossom gay,
Let me then, with footstep light,
Hasten, and the call obey,
And in every object find

Some instruction for the mind.

Ant, that still with willing pain

Dost for the wintry hours prepare,

Toiling at each weighty grain,
Hoarding up the precious fare;
May it be my aim to gain

Future good with equal care,
Nor through summer's sportive day
Fling the passing hours away.