Mother's Work

Baking, sewlng, and brewlug, Koaating, frylng, and bolling, Kweeping, dusllng, and cleauing, Washlng, starchlng, aud ironliig, Klpplng, turning, and raendlng, CiiitiiiK. bastlug, and stltching, .Maktng llie old llkc new ; Shoeslrings to luce, Faces to wash. Hut toiiK to sew, Aud the Mke of such : stock lnus to darn Whiie thechtldren play, Slorles to teil, Tears to wtpe away, Make theni happy. The llve-long day ; II Is ever thus Trom mom till nlght : Wlio saysthat a raollier 's win k Is Mslit? II. At eveulnic four l.ittic ii ii nis In white ; l'rayers all said, And the last good niglit, Tucklng thein safe In euch downy bod, Sllently asklng u u-h lieail, That the dear Kather In Heaveu wilt keep Hule all niy darllngs, Awake or asleep. riii-n 1 thlnk the old adage truo ever wlü prove : lts easy to labor for those that we love." III. A h mi' deur ine ! 1 nften say, As I liaug the lumbled dollies iiway ; And the teap drops start While my burdened heart Acbes for the mother across the way. Where, ah, where are Her nestllugs llown ? All, all are gone, Save one alone ! Kolded thelrgarmcnts Wlth tenderest cure, l'npresKed the plllow Aini vacunt the ctiair, No rlli'iiiiis to lle, No fuces to wash, No ualr all awry ; No merry volees To liusli lnto rest , (¦ikI save lliem ! He took them, Ainl he kuowpth hest ; Hut, ah ! the hearl ungiusli ! the teara thut lall, Thls unit licr's win-k Is the hnrdest of all : - [Phlladelphia Sunday Kppulllc. "c i, carry me, then," erled the fair eoquettp, "To the land where never I'vejourncyed yet- To that shore Where love Is lasling and chance unknown. And a mail Is falthful to oue alone Kverir ore."' "Go, seek the land for a year and a day. At the end ol the time you'll be still lar away, I'retty mald; 'TIn a country unleCtered In ump or in clmrt, 'Tls a country that doea Dot exlst, sweetheurl, I'm itralil.'1 - [TueopUUe Qautler. lle wlio checks a chlld wlth terror, stops lts play and stills lts soug, Nol alone huik au error. Hut a ií rievous, moral wrong. (Jtve lt play and never fear it, Active lile Is no defect ; Never, never, breuk lts spirit- Curb- ouly to direct. Ah, me, the step, how short a one, Ketwee.ii tlie domg and the done! How near the bark raay come to land, Vel cast her cargo on the sand ! Ui. ki vi' me strenglh, and ki ve me inlnd, To ilnlsli what my hands may flnd; That none may ny In luture days, "ilus man oould hew. but couhl not ralse.'1