cloudy long, and she eagerly cried-" But we'll go tomorrow, and that will do just as well!"

Darling Baby, how often did her patience, her cheerfulness over disappointments rebuke me. After breakfast Baby went to her play, and I to clearing the table. By-and-by I saw that the fog lifted itself somewhat, and that at times the sun almost peeped through.

"Baby," I said, "If the sun comes out and the blue sky shows, we'll go to uncle's to-day."

After that, Baby ran to the door and window many times in an hour, to see if she could find any blue sky. Seeing me watching the clouds with an anxious eye, she came to the door, and putting her little face with its brown bits of curls shading it, outside the door, called out " There's blue sky somewhere, mamma." I suppose a rift in the fog showed it to her, for she called instantly-"I don't see it now, but it's somewhere. Let's get our things and go, mamma-the blue sky is coming."

Sure enough, in an hour it was all blue sky, and Baby and I were on our way to Uncle Brown's.

Three months after, and I stood beside Baby's crib, but not to hear her repeat with lisping tones her little prayer. The little brown curls I was so proud of were not then stirred by the soft breath of slumber. The little busy, restless fingers were very quiet then, for Baby was sleeping the sleep that knows no waking here.

Ob! ye mothers who have stood thus beside your dartings, only ye can pity me. And she was our only one! As I stood watching the precious form, something brought her words back to me-"There's blue sky somewhere,

mamma.' "Oh, my dear Baby!" I cried, your sky is all blue now, and mine is so dark. And the bitter tears came like rain. They did my heart good, and beside my dead baby's form I prayed that God would help me bear my sorrow-and that, above all, my grief would never make me selfish; that the love I gave to her may now go out to who may any need it. Do you think I have forgotten my child when I tell you that I've been very happy since she died? Not so. Her memory is the one precious thing of my life. Yet I see the blue sky. Sometimes the mist comes over it. Sometimes it seems very dark to me. Yet I know it's somewhere. Behind the clouds, maybe-but it's there. By-and-by I shall see it. "Blue sky" means God's love to me. I don't always see it. I can't always understand why the way is dark and the clouds cover me, but God knows. Behind it all is the blue sky; and soon I shali see it; and so I try and walk by faith-often stumbling -often soiling myself with earthly matters. Often walking with uncertain steps; yet when the way seems darkest, and I grope blindly, lo! the blue sky; and see God's hand is leading me on.

Oh, ye sorrowing ones, lift up your heads--God's love is over you. By-and-by-soon, if ye look for it-you will see the blue sky.

VARA.

CONEY ISLAND DOWN DER PAY.

ONCE I dook a trib to Coney,

Coney Island down der pay.

On der poad I eat some grullers
Vor to pass der dime avay ;

Bud I tole you, dem same grullers
Dey vas so rich, dey would not sthay;
So I lefd dem down to Coney,

Coney Island down der pay.

Dhen I dook a schwim ad Coney,
I dook a bath vile I vas dhere;
Und der first ding dot dey tole me,
Vas to jump und vet mine hair;
So I dook me py dose billows

Dot game ribbling ub dot vay,
Und said, "Id's nice to pe ad Coney,
Coney Island down der pay."

Dey hafe nice bath-clothes down ad Coney.
Bud mine, dey would not fid at all;
I heard a feller say pehind me,

"Fids like der paber on der vall!"

I dought me dot I'd dake a reef in,
Unt tied a knot I dought would sthay,
Den I dook a dive ad Coney,

Coney Island down der pay.

Maype you have schwimmed ad Coney,
Und knows yust how id vas yourself;
Ven I gum up-I dought I'd nefer—
I vanted to lay on a shelf.

Und my clothes-dey most forsook me;

Dey really, almost got avay, Ven I vas oud of sight ad Coney, Coney Island down der pay.

So I dought me down ad Coney,
I dinks dot I hafe got enuff;

I don'd fancy dhem schmall wavelets
Ven dhey handle me so rough.
So I settled for my bath-clothes,

Der clothes dot almost vent asthray,
Und said, "I could not schwim at Coney,
Coney Island down der pay."

Dhen I watched der folks ad Coney;
Dey dought dot I vas General Grant ;
Dey said, "Come ub, und have some dinner;'
Bud I had to say, "I can't."

For you see I vas unsettled;

I couldn't gife der grub fair play;
Yust see vot I lost ad Coney,
Coney Island down der pay.

I set me on der sand ad Coney;
I vas not dinking of der sea,
Ven der vaves, dey dook a tumble,
Dey dook a tumble over me.
Oh, I feld me like der mischief;

I didn't, I couldn't know vat to say.
Dhere I stood, vet through at Coney,
Coney Island down der pay.

I said, "I'fe got enuff of Coney,"
Und struck a bee line for der train;
Der peoples come out on der platform,

Und dhey all asked me—“ Did it rain ?”
Ad home, mine frou says, " Vats der matter,
Jakey, vat makes you look dot vay?"
I says, “Katrine, I'fe bern to Coney,

Coney Island down der pay."

HENRY FIRTH WOOD

OLD FOLKS?

AH, don't be sorrowful, darling,

And don't be sorrowful, pray; Taking the year together, my dear, There isn't more night than day.

'Tis wintry weather, my darling,
Time's waves they heavily run,
But taking the year together, my dear,
There isn't more cloud than sun.

We are old folks now, my darling,
Our heads are growing gray,

But taking the year all round, my dear,
You will always find the May.

We have had our May, my darling,
Had our roses long ago,

And the time of year has come, my dear,

For the silent night and snow.

And God is God, my darling,
Of night as well as day,

And we feel and know that we can go
Wherever He leads the way.

Aye, God of the night, my darling,
Of the night of death so grim;

The gate that leads out of life, good wife,
Is the gate that leads to Him.