OUT OF DOORS.

THE CHILD'S WORLD.

"GREAT, wide, beautiful, wonderful World,
With the wonderful water round you curled,
And the wonderful grass upon your breast,
World, you are beautifully drest.

"The wonderful air is over me,
And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree,
It walks on the water, and whirls the mills,
And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.

"You, friendly Earth! how far do you go

With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow, With cities and gardens, and cliffs, and isles

And people upon you for thousands of miles?

'Ah, you are so great, and I am so small,

I tremble to think of you, World, at all
And yet, when I said my prayers, to-day,
A whisper inside me seemed to say,

D

;

'You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot: You can love and think, and the Earth cannot !""

-"Lilliput Lectures."

THE COUNTRY CHILD.

WITH mingled trembling and delight,

And slowly falling feet,

A little country maiden now

Is passing down the street:
A country child, I know it by
Her timid air, her wondering eye.

The sunlight warm has kissed her brow,
And tinged her cheek with brown ;
The odor of the violets

Comes with her to the town;

We almost guess the woodland place

Where she has dwelt, from her sweet face!

We almost read her inner thoughts,
Through her large, wistful eyes;
How bright to her the city seems,
How much like Paradise,

As Nature's child, with bounding heart,
Looks, for the first glad time, on Art!

The merchant, in his store-house door,
Smiles as she passes by ;

The laborer pauses in his work,
To watch her, with a sigh:

Where'er she goes, she wakens dreams
Of shady nooks and rippling streams.

She seems to bring the country here,
Its birds, its flowers, its dew;
And slowly, as amid the throng,

She

passes from our view,

We watch her sadly, as we might

Some pleasant landscape fade from sight.

Ah, well! we would not keep her here,
These dusty streets to roam,

So fair a flower should open with
The daisy buds at home;

Mid primrose stars, as sweet and wild,

As she will be, dear woodland child!

-Marian Douglas.

THE BAREFOOT BOY.

BLESSINGS on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,

Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace:

From my heart I give thee joy!

I was once a barefoot boy.

Prince thou art, the grown-up man

Only is republican.

Let the million-dollared ride!

Barefoot, trudging at his side,
Thou hast more than he can buy,
In the reach of ear and eye,
Outward sunshine, inward joy :
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!

O, for boyhood's painless play;
Sleep that wakes in laughing day;
Health that mocks the doctor's rules;
Knowledge never learned of schools,

Of the wild bee's morning chase,
Of the wild-flower's time and place,
Flight of fowl and habitude
Of the tenants of the wood;
How the tortoise bears his shell;
How the wood-chuck digs his cell,
And the ground-mole sinks his well.
How the robin feeds her young;
How the oriole's nest is hung;

Where the whitest lilies blow;
Where the freshest berries grow;
Where the ground-nut trails its vine;
Where the wood-grape's clusters shine:
Of the black wasp's cunning way,-
Mason of his walls of clay,
And the architectural plans
Of gray hornet artisans !
For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;