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THE DEAD SPARROW.

Tell me not of joy! there's none,
Now my little sparrow's gone :

He would chirp and play with me;
He would hang the wing awhile ;
Till at length he saw me smile,

O how sullen he would be !

He would catch a crumb, and then,
Sporting, let it go again ;

He from my lip

Would moisture sip; He would from my trencher feed; Then would hop, and then would run, And cry philip when he'd done!

O! whose heart can choose but bleed?

0! how eager would he fight,
And ne'er hurt, though he did bite !

No morn did pass,

But on my glass
You He would sit, and mark, and do,
But cunnu.id; now ruffle all
Whatever ways 'er, now let 'em fall ;

pat.way sleek 'em too.

One day, as he stood in the heat of the sun,
He began thinking whether he might not take one;

And then he look'd over the wall.
And as he again cast his eyes on the tree,
He said to himself, “Oh! how nice they would be,

So cool and refreshing to-day !
The tree is so full, and I'll only take one,
And old John won't see, for he is not at home,

And nobody is in the way.
But stop, little boy, take your hand from the bough,
Remember, though old John can't see you just now,

And no one to chide you is nigh,
There is One, who by night just as well as by day,
Can see all you do, and can hear all you say,

From his glorious throne in the sky.
O then, little boy, come away from the tree,
Content, hot or weary, or thirsty to be, .

Or any thing, rather than steal ;
For the great God, who ever through darkness can look,
Writes down ev'ry crime we commit in his book,
Howe'er we may think to conceal.

J. T.

THE TEMPEST.

See the dark vapours cloud the sky,

The thunder rumbles round and round ! The lightning's flash begins to fly,

Big drops of rain bedew the ground:
The frighten'd birds, with ruffled wing,
Fly through the air, and cease to sing.
Now nearer rolls the mighty peal :

Incessant thunder roars aloud ;
Toss'd by the winds, the tall oaks reel,

The forked lightning breaks the cloud;
Deep torrents drench the swimming plain,
And sheets of fire descend with rain.
'Tis God who on the tempest rides,

And with a word directs the storm ; 'Tis at his nod the wind subsides,

Or heaps of heavy vapours form: In fire and cloud he walks the sky, And lets his stores of tempests fly. Then why with childish terror fear

What waits his will to do me harm?
The flash shall never venture near,

Or give me cause for dire alarm,
If he direct the fiery ball,
And bid it not on me to fall.

Yet, though beneath his pow'r divine,

I wait, depending on his care,
Each right endeavour shall be mine,

Of ev'ry danger I'll beware ;
Far from the metal bell-wire stand,
Nor on the door-lock put my hand.
When caught amidst the open field,

I'll not seek shelter from a tree;
Though from the falling rain a shield,

More dreadful might the lightning be:
Its tallest boughs might draw the fire,
And I, with sudden stroke, expire.
They need not dread the stormy day,

Or lightnings flashing from the sky,
Who walk in wisdom's pleasant way,

And always are prepard to die ; I know no other way to hear The thunder roll without a fear. A. T.

harlotte Sommeren

* THE USE OF SIGHT. “What, Charles return'd!” papa exclaim'd,

“ How short your walk has been ! But Thomas-Samuel-where are they?

Come, tell me what you've seen.”

“So tedious, stupid, dull a walk,”

Said Charles, “ J'll go no more
First stopping here, then lagging there,

O'er this and that to pore.

I cross'd the fields near Woodland House,

And just went up the hill ;
Then by the river side came down,

Near Mr. Fairplay's mill.”

Now Tom and Samuel both ran in

“O dear, papa,” said they, « The sweetest walk we both have had,

O, what a pleasant day.

Near Woodland House we cross'd the fields,

And by the mill we came.” “Indeed !” exclaim'd papa, “how's this?

Your brother took the same;

“ But very dull he found the walk.

What have you there? let's see :-
Come, Charles, enjoy this charming treat,

As new to you as me.”

“First look, papa, at this small branch,

Which on a tall oak grew,

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