Priestess. Thou hast spoken truth, Christina. To God belongeth the purest thing of his great universe. And since some boon is merited by thee, for the wisdom of thy choice, I will give thee a ministry over human souls, to work upon them, by the spell of this beautiful thing which thou hast chosen, the gifts which have been desired of me by the sisters who surround the altar. Through the influence of piety they shall see beauty and purity in the flowers and gems, in the insects and birds, in the sea and in the sky, and all around and abroad in the glorious universe; and the purest offerings of every heart shall be brought to the holy altar of the living God.

THE SEASONS.

ANONYMOUS.

Winter.

From Hyperborean realms of snow,
Where tempests growl and icebergs grow,
Old Winter comes to meet you.

Spring.

When stern old Winter has closed his reign,
And earth and sky look glad again,
Sweet Spring comes to meet you.

Winter.

The earth grows pale as I draw near,
The waters blend, and the leaves grow sear,
And hearts of men are quailing.

Spring.

I come where the balmiest breezes blow,
With radiant beauty all things glow,
With ravishing scenes regaling.

Summer.

From the land of the orange, the myrtle, the palm,
Where the earth in its verdure forever is drest,

Where the groves waft rich spices, and flowers distil balm,
I come, to rekindle new joy in each breast.

Spring.

Lovely, lovely, is the scene,

When Spring decks her fields in green

Summer.

Swiftly, swiftly, speed the hours,
In cooling shade and summer bowers.

Autumn.

Happy, happy, is the tone,

When the reapers shout the harvest home.

Winter.

Merrily, merrily, ring the bells

O'er Winter's snow-clad hills and dales.

Winter.

I love with frost to greet them.

Spring.

Sweet smell the flowers at dawn of day.

Summer.

Sweet is the breath of the new-mown hay.

Autumn.

Sweet are the fruits I store away.

Winter.

'Tis sweeter yet to eat them.

Spring.

Spring leaves this bouquet, with her thanks to you all.

Summer.

And Summer her plums and berries, though small.

Autumn.

And Autumn a basket of fruit from his hoard.

Winter.

And Winter, old Winter sweeps all from the board.

Spring, Summer, and Autumn.

Winter, O Winter! but for thee,
O! how happy I should be !

UNGROUNDED SUSPICIONS.

CHILD'S GOSPEL GUIDE.

THREE BOYS- CHARLES, WILLIAM, AND FRANK.

Charles. John White is the meanest boy that I ever saw ! William. Why, what now? What has John done to you, that you should accuse him so harshly?

Charles. Done! he's done everything. He is so ugly, I don't see how he lives!

William. But what has he done? It is not right to talk so about one of your school-mates, without telling the cause; you might cause others to think him much worse than he is. Say, what dreadful thing has he done?

218

DIALOGUES FAMILIAR

Charles. He has stolen my new skates, and my nice silver pencil, that uncle James gave me last summer. He has stolen them both.

William. It seems to me, Charles, that you must be mistaken. John White is a scholar in our school, and I am slow to believe that he will steal. I have never known any of our scholars to do a thing so bad.

Charles. I don't believe that story. I'll bet I can tell you of more than a dozen of your school that will steal. Any how, John White has stolen, and I can prove it.

William. Well, if you can prove it, I shall have to give in that he is guilty. But how can you prove it?

Charles. Bill Frost saw him have the skates on.

William. But they might have been some other skates; perhaps he has got some new ones.

Charles. No; Bill said he knew they were mine'; and I have no doubt but he has got my pencil too, for I missed it this very morning, and last night he was with me at the lecture, and I thought I felt him put his hand into my pocket.

William. Well, Charles, it may be so, but I cannot believe that John is so bad a boy. He is in my class every day, and I never saw anything bad in him in my life.

Charles. I don't think he is any better for being in your class; I know of a great many bad boys that go to your school.

William. Will you tell me who they are? I am sure I never knew that we had one bad boy in school. Will you tell their names?

Charles. There is John White, for one; and there is there is there's a great many

William. Well, who are they? If you know there is a great many, you can tell who some of them are.

Charles. No matter who they are! I know them, and that's enough. But here comes Frank Rice. I wonder whose skates he's got there in his hand.

[Enter Frank.]

Frank. Good-evening, boys. I've brought your skates home, Charles.

Charles. My skates! Where did you get them? How came you by them?

Frank. Why, don't you know? Your father lent them to me yesterday. He said you would have no time to skate till this evening, and I might take them, if I would be sure to bring them back this evening in season for you.

Frank. That was a mistake, Charles. John has not seen them, and he would not have wanted them, if he had, for he has got a new pair of his own.

William. There! what think you now, Charles, about John White? Do you think him the ugliest boy in the world, as you said just now?

Charles. Well, it seems he did not steal my skates; but I know he has got my pencil, any how.

William. Don't be so sure, Charles; you may be mistaken in that also; I think you are.

Frank. What is it about his pencil? I found one, just down below here. Have you lost your pencil, Charles? Charles. Yes, John White stole it out of my pocket last night.

Frank. What kind of pencil was it?

Charles. It was a small silver pencil, with a red stone in the end of it.

it?

Frank. [Takes out the pencil.] Is that it, Charles?

Charles. Yes, that is the very pencil. Where did you find

Frank. Just this side of Lyceum Hall. Charles. There, I know when I lost it. I'll bet I pulled it out of my pocket when I took out my mittens.

William. Charles, do you not feel ashamed of yourself, for accusing John White so unjustly and wickedly.

Charles. Yes, I do. But then I certainly thought he had stolen them.

Frank. John White steal! I am astonished that you should ever think of such a thing. He is one of the best and most conscientious boys in the world. We have no thieves in our school.

William. So I have told him, but he would not believe me. He says he knows of a great many bad boys in our school.

Frank. Can he tell us who they are?

William. I asked him that, and he began to tell, and got so far as John White-he could not name another

one.

Charles. I own I was wrong to accuse John White so; but I certainly thought he had got both my skates and my pencil.

William. Do you not see how much injury you might have done him, by going round and repeating that story? Some people might have believed it, and called that good boy a thief. Have you told any one else about it?