Bawling Bella

O doar ! some cotton ! wbat a fearf ul din ! Why, there she stands the sweetest elf alive, Her hair untortured by a crisping pin, The widest little shoes we could contrive, No cruel corBet those soft ribs to fre' : From a loóse belt her light sash fluttering falls The very picture of lithe ease, and yet She bawle ! our Bella bawls ! Ind how eho bawls ! just see thoso knotted scowls How the sobs struggle in her little throat ; What swelling gurgles, what tumultueus üowls And then, at last, that long, wild, piercing note; Poor Bridget trembles, faithless brothers jeer Ml tume palé, " -Tio's kiUed?"her fathfi And the wide eyes of startied guest8 sav, "Hear !'. She bawls ! your Bella bawls !" ind all tüo worm seems bawling in repiy ■ Nat barks like mad, tho cross oíd parrot feooldB The six canaries, sworn to do or die ' ' ouneK tui a napkin every cage eufr,I(38 . The robins wrange where the oherrfeg „ ' The horses whinny in the diKnt stalla The hens all cackle, and the rSSbe bawlR ! our Bella bav W With angry hum the ip .- _„ .„,.,„„ ,„, líreíí v "'" ot heen, in pettish flaws, mU"! fnlllll!nl1 ia elamoroui "o? ''.""êpy thunder Rtowls. and all becauBe are bawls 1 our Bella bawlB ! Why does Bhe bawl ? Dear me ! I wish I knew ! Comit see these Jovely ladiea in row, With yellDw curls and eyes of slimmer blue, From Paris, all complete f rom top to toe. H hat if those two who've lost their wigs look UI, What if that stupid Bid will cali them " dawls," ■Wo'll pay they're queens and countesses ; oh, sti'll She bawls ! our Bella bawls ! 1 She'8 turning purple ! Oh, what Bhall I dof Shc'll split her httle larynx in a trice ; Come, darling, look I your tea-tnings from Aunt Sue. O pet ! this milk and water -is so nice, The raisins must have come just f resh from Spain, And these meringues, in mcltlng foamy balls, The sweetest things you ever ate ! in vain- She bawls ! our Bella bawls ! Mmma, mamma! one choked and gasping cry, Then shivering on that gentle breast she lies, " Sing, sing," she sobs; the tempest passes by The startight glimmers in the softening eyes, And on that swept little heart and brain Falls the swett Toice, as Dai-id's harp on Saul's, There is no charm like molher's singicg, when She bawls ! our Bella bawlB ! - New England Journal oy Bducation.