rid, mossy knoll,
And laughing lisp that they have found
The sweetest flowers of all.

With bouquets sweet, and garlands gay,
They homeward then repair,
In haste to join without delay
The pic-nic or the fair.

For times are not as they were wont
To be in years gone by,
When on the rural village green
They reared the May-pole high;

While gathered round a merry group
Of youths and maidens gay,
To crown some rosy rustic maid
The smiling Queen of May.

THE FLOWERS OF THE FIELD.

MATT. VI. 28.

Behold the lilies of the field,
In thousand colors drest;
They toil not, neither do they spin,
Yet God the flowers hath blest.

Then toil not for the things of earth,
But seek your God to please;
For Solomon, in all his pride,
Was not arrayed like these.

Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass
And flowers, that fade and die,
Will he not much more care for you,
And all your wants supply?

Why will ye, O ye faithless ones,
Distrust your Father's care?
Are ye not better than the flowers?
Will he not hear your prayer?

Your Father knoweth what ye need;
Fear not, but watch and pray;
And let your light shine more and more
Unto the perfect day.

MY EARLY DAYS.

(SEE FRONTISPIECE.)

My father's house was indeed a pleasant home; and father was the supreme
guide of his own household. He was gentle, but he could be firm and
resolute when the case demanded. Mother was the sunshine of our little
garden of love; her talents and energy gave her influence; and united to
a man like father, she was all that is lovable in the character of
woman.

But the dear old home, where I grew from infancy to boyhood, and from
boyhood to youth, I shall never forget. It was a large house on the
slope of a hill, just high enough to overlook several miles of our level
country, and smooth enough with its soft grassy carpet for us to roll
down from the summit to the foot of the hill. At the back of the house
was another hill, where we used to roll under the shade of the old elm,
and where Miles and I would sit whole afternoons and fly the kite, each
taking turns in holding the string. This was a happy place for us, and
especially in the spring time, when the happy looking cows grazed along
the pathway which winds around the elm to the stream where Kate and