So shiny and smooth, and so plump and so brown, The handsomest chestnuts that ever fell down; Though stately and proud the old nut tree has stood A hundred long years - the king of the wood.

You dear little squirrel, you look very wise,
With long bushy tail and bright, shiny, black eyes.
Pray, sir, do you fancy you own the big tree?
It's quite a mistake, sir, between you and me.

We don't mean to rob you, dear, not in the least,
But we too like chestnuts, and long for a feast;
We know you must gather your snug winter store,
But after we go you will find plenty more.

Selected.

LITTLE NUT PEOPLE.

LD Mistress Chestnut once lived in a burr,

O'

Padded and lined with the softest of fur. Jack Frost split it wide with his keen silver knife, And tumbled her out at the risk of her life.

Here is Don Almond, a grandee from Spain,
Some raisins from Malaga came in his train;
He has a twin brother a shade or two leaner,
When both come together we shout "Philopena!"

This is Sir Walnut; he's English, you know,
A friend of my Lady and Lord So-and-So.
Whenever you ask old Sir Walnut to dinner,
Be sure and have wine for the gouty old sinner.

Little Miss Peanut, from North Carolina,
She's not 'ristocratic but no nut is finer.

Sometimes she is roasted and burnt to a cinder,
In Georgia they call her Miss Goober, or Pinder.

Little Miss Hazelnut, in her best bonnet,
Is lovely enough to be put in a sonnet;
And young Mr. Filbert has journeyed from Kent,
To ask her to marry him soon after Lent.

This is old Hickory; look at him well,

A general was named for him, so I've heard tell.
Take care how you hit him.

He sometimes hits back! This stolid old chap is a hard nut to crack.

Old Mr. Butternut just from Brazil,

Is rugged and rough as the side of a hill;
But, like many a countenance quite as ill-favored,
His covers a kernel deliciously flavored.

Here is a Southerner, graceful and slim,

In flavor no nut is quite equal to him.

Ha, Monsieur Pecan, you know what it means,

To be served with black coffee in French New Orleans.

Dear little Chinquapin, modest and neat,

Isn't she cunning and isn't she sweet?

Her skin is as smooth as a little boy's chin,
And the squirrels all chatter of Miss Chinquapin.

And now, my dear children, I'm sure I have told
All the queer rhymes that a nutshell can hold.

-E. 7. Nicholson - St. Nicholas.

THE GOSSIP OF THE NUTS.

AID the Shagbark to the Chestnut,

SAID

"Is it time to leave the burr?"

"I don't know," replied the Chestnut, "There's Hazelnut- ask her.

"I don't dare to pop my nose out, Till Jack Frost unlocks the door, Besides, I'm in no hurry

To increase the squirrels' store.

"A telegram from Peanut says
That she is on the way;

And the Pecan Nuts are ripening,
In Texas, so they say."

Just here the little Beechnut,
In his three-cornered hat,
Remarked in tiny piping voice:
"I'm glad to hear of that;

"For then my charming cousin

So very much like me,

Miss Chinquapin will come with them, And happy I shall be."

Then Butternut spoke up and said:

"Twill not be long before

I'll have to move my quarters
To the farmer's garret floor;

"With Hickory and Walnut,
Good company I'll keep,
And there, until Thanksgiving,
Together we shall sleep."

Said the Shagbark: "I am tired
Of being cooped up here;
I want to go to see the world;
Pray, what is there to fear?

"I'll stay up here no longer;
I'll just go pouncing down.
So good-bye, Sister Chestnut!

We'll meet again in town."

- Selected.

THE SQUIRREL'S ARITHMETIC.

IGH on the branch of a walnut-tree

HIGH

bright-eyed squirrel sat.

What was he thinking so earnestly?
And what was he looking at?

The forest was green around him,
The sky all over his head;
His nest was in a hollow limb,
And his children snug in bed.

He was doing a problem o'er and o'er,
Busily thinking was he;

How many nuts for this winter's store
Could he hide in the hollow tree?

He sat so still on the swaying bough
You might have thought him asleep.
Oh, no; he was trying to reckon now
The nuts the babies could eat.

Then suddenly he frisked about,
And down the tree he ran.

"The best way to do, without a doubt,
Is to gather all I can."

- Annie Douglass Bell.

TIME ENOUGH.

WO little squirrels out in the sun,

Tw

One gathered nuts, the other had none; "Time enough yet," his constant refrain, "Summer is only just on the wane."

Listen, my child, while I tell you his fate:

He roused him at last, but he roused him too late;
Down fell the snow from the pitiless cloud,
And gave little squirrel a spotless white shroud.

Two little boys in a school-room were placed,
One always perfect, the other disgraced;
"Time enough yet for my learning," he said,
"I'll climb by and by from the foot to the head.”

Listen, my darling: Their locks have turned gray,
One as a governor is sitting to-day;

The other, a pauper, looks out at the door
Of the almshouse, and idles his days as of yore.

Two kinds of people we meet every day;
One is at work, the other at play,
Living uncared for, dying unknown —
The business hive hath ever a drone.