moonlight
'Tis getting past midnight,
And time kid and I were home
An hour and a half ago!"

But the butcher only laughed at her,
And to the rope she hurried:--
"Pray rope hang butcher, butcher won't kill ox,
Ox won't drink water, water won't quench fire,
Fire won't burn stick, stick won't beat dog,
Dog won't bite kid,
Kid won't go!
And I see by the moonlight
'Tis getting past midnight,
And time kid and I were home
An hour and a half ago."

The rope swayed round for "nay!"
So to the rat she beckoned:--
"Pray rat gnaw rope, rope won't hang butcher,
Butcher won't kill ox, ox won't drink water,
Water won't quench fire, fire won't burn stick,
Stick won't beat dog, dog won't bite kid,
Kid won't go!
And I see by the moonlight
'Tis long past midnight,
And time kid and I were home
A couple of hours ago!"

A scornful squeak was all he deigned,
And so she called the kitten:--
"Pray cat eat rat, rat won't gnaw rope,
Rope won't hang butcher, butcher won't kill ox,
Ox won't drink water, water won't quench fire,
Fire won't burn stick, stick won't beat dog,
Dog won't bite kid,
Kid won't go!
And I see by the moonlight
'Tis long past midnight,
And time kid and I were home
Hours and hours ago!"

Now pussy loved a rat,
So she seized him in a minute:
And the cat began to eat the rat,
The rat began to gnaw the rope,
The rope began to hang the butcher,
The butcher began to kill the ox,
The ox began to drink the water,
The water began to quench the fire,
The fire began to burn the stick,
The stick began to beat the dog,
The dog began to bite the kid,
And the kid began to go!
And home through the moonlight,
Long after midnight,
The little dame and little kid
Went trudging--oh, _so_ slow!

[Color Plate:]

The little Boy in the Barn,
Lay down on some hay.
The Owl came out,
And flew about,
And the little Boy ran away.

FOOLISH BOBOLINK.

By Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.

What a silly bobolink,
Down in the meadow grasses!
What can the noisy fellow think,
When, to everyone who passes,
He calls out cheerily,
"Here, here is my nest! See! see!"

He could hide the summer through
In the thick, sweet-smelling clover,
Nor could anyone from dawn to dew,
His little house discover,
Did he not make so free
With