CHARLEY, THE STORY-TELLER.

CHARLES was a very wayward youth,
Who to his parents ne'er spoke truth.
It matters not, thought he, forsooth,
When no one knows if I tell lies
They are not written in my eyes!

His mother once some questions asked,
And artful Charles his cunning tasked;
When loud the parrot chuckling cried,
"You little rogue ! may woe betide !

For, Charley, you've been fibbing!"

Then from the corner comes the cat,
And gives Mamma a gentle pat;
"Good lady, he's deceiving you."
She purrs aloud; Mew, mew, mew, mew!
For Charley has been fibbing !"

Down stairs now frightened Charley steals,
As though ten cats were at his heels;
When by his coat Tray seizes him,

And cries; "Bow, wow!" in accents grim,
"Fie, Charley, you've been fibbing!"

Now both with shame and anger red,
That e'en the cock and hens upbraid,
He seeks the garden's safe retreat;

But twittering birds there cry: "Tweat, tweat!
Fie, Charley, you've been fibbing!"

He runs at last from out the town,
And near a village sits him down ;
But even there a fly soon comes,
Who buzzes round his nose and hums:

"Fie, Charley, you've been fibbing!"

He now the blessed world runs round,
But rest for him is no where found ;

Go where he will, his ears still greet,

Mew, mew-bow, wow buzz, buzz —tweat, tweat!

Fie, Charley, you've been fibbing !"

- From the German.

THE LITTLE NURSE.

"WHY do you sit in the dull house, Annie? See what a parcel of flowers I've found Columbines, violets, snow-drops, quakers,

And cowslips that grow in the meadow ground.

"The boys are flying their kites, or playing

;

As merry as crickets at bat and ball And the girls are playing at jars of honey, But you, you are moping away from all.”

I must stay in the house all day," said Annie,

"Till mother comes home from her work at night : Your voices sound through the open window, And I can see that the sky is bright.

"I wish I were out there playing with you; I wish I were one of the honey jars ;

I wish,

but I might as well be wishing

To play a game with the moon and stars.

For here in the bed poor Jane lies moaning, And no kith nor kin in the world has she; And mother says that our Father in Heaven Has given the care of poor Jane to me.

"All day my mother is out at washing,

To earn our clothes, and our rent, and our food; So I cannot play at jars of honey,

Or find sweet flowers, or hide in the wood."

But your mother's at work a mile from the village,
And no one would know it," said Kitty Ray.

And as for Jane, she never would miss you

If you took an hour from the tedious day."

"Though I am sometimes tempted," said Annie, "I put the wrong thoughts away from my mind : And I would not deceive my Mother, Kitty,

For then no pleasure or peace should I find

"Many a time I have thought of running,

And have put on my bonnet and tied the strings, Of running up the hill by the river,

Like a bird that flies with feathery wings.

"But then I thought that poor Jane might suffer
For a glass of water while I was gone;
Or, asking about the time or the weather,
And getting no answer, might feel forlorn.

“And often when I am tired and longing
To steal away to the beautiful wood,
I think how glad it will make the Saviour
To see me sitting here patient and good.

"And I think if He were to enter the chamber
As he entered the houses of Galilee,
How I should wish to hear Him saying
'Well done, faithful child,' to me."

There she sat in the soft spring weather,

Prisoned from treading the fresh green earth. Only ten years have the seasons numbered, Since the watching angels recorded her birth.

Not as the rich grow, to ease and pleasure,
Grew she, but to labor and to endure.
And Christ, who once blessed the little children
Blesses them still the rich and the poor.

BENNY.

I HAD told him, Christmas morning,
As he sat upon my knee,
Holding fast his little stockings,
Stuffed as full as full could be,
And attentive, listening to me,
With a face demure and mild,
That old Santa Claus, who filled them,
Did not love a naughty child.

But we'll be good, won't we, Moder?"
And from off my lap he slid,
Digging deep among the goodies
In his crimson stockings hid,
While I turned me to my table,

Where a tempting goblet stood,
With a dainty drink brimmed over,
Sent me by a neighbor good.

But the kitten, there before me,
With his white paw, nothing loth,
Sat by way of entertainment,
Slapping off the shining froth;
And in not the gentlest humor
At the loss of such a treat,
I confess, I rather rudely

Thrust him out into the street.

Then how Benny's blue eyes kindled !

Gathering up the precious store, He had busily been pouring

In his tiny pinafore.