r hence,
And a parrot who can whistle tunes and talk good sense.

III.

When a storm of wind arises, and the great waves swell,
We will scud along the billows like a blown foam-bell,
When 'tis glassy calm beneath a sky without one fleck,
I'll play a game of skittles on the calm smooth deck.

IV.

And if the crew should mutiny on some dark night,
With my left I'd seize a cutlass and a pistol in my right,
And I'd show them that their Captain has a right bold heart,
And I'd make each man an officer that took my part.

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THE DOLL THAT TAUGHT A LESSON.

"Good-by, Annie dear; mind and take good care of Dorrie."

"Yes, mamma."

Ah! Annie, how easy it is to make a promise! A hearty kiss sealed it;
then Mrs. Roby drove away in her carriage, and so our story begins.

Mamma gone out to spend the day, Annie left at home to take care of
Dorrie, while nurse was cleaning the nurseries. Annie was six, Ralph,
her brother, seven, Dorrie four, and the "funniest little puppet in all
England," so Ralph said.

"Annie, I _do fink_ Mab could walk almost by herself with these boots
on," said Dorrie, she and Annie back in the dining-room, Dorrie busy
with a family of three dolls, Annie deep in a new story-book.

The wee mamma had just contrived to put a pair of new boots, of Annie's
manufacturing, on the by no means elegant feet of shock-headed Mab. Next
came the suggestion from silver-tongued Dorrie, as Annie was silent--

"I _fink_ Mab and Alice ought to go for a walk. Baby is just gone to
sleep;" and the mite was laid carefully among the sofa cushions.

"Very well." Down went the book; with that promise just spoken, Annie
could not well do other than go this walk with her little sister, yet in
a listless, half-hearted way.

"You take the one hand, I the other;" so prattled Dorrie. "Oh! see her
feet!" and certainly Miss Mab did trip it out right nimbly down to the
gate. How Dorrie laughed, watching her.

Just outside the gate they met Ralph.

"What are you laughing at, old lady?" he asked.

"Because Mab can almost walk by herself," she told him.

"Then she'll be running away one of these days," said the boy.

"Oh! she wouldn't--she wouldn't run away from me, because I love her
so;" and Dorrie stooped and gave her a sounding kiss.

"You just wait and see," was Ralph's answer; then he went on, and the
sisters pursued their walk.

Back again, the