ferer has been cheered by the sight of Mary's flowers.

UNCLE SAM.

BABY TO HER DOLL.

[Illustration: Baby to Her Doll.]

I wonder what you are thinking about
While you look so smiling at me.
You never frown, and you never pout;
Your eyes are as clear as can be,
And though you are often hurt, no doubt,
Not a tear do I ever see!

W.G.

PETER AND TOMMY.

[Illustration: Peter and Tommy.]

_Peter._--I say, Tommy, where did you get that new hat you have on your
head?

_Tommy._--What business is that of yours?

_Peter._--Oh, I want to learn, that's all. I may be wanting to get a hat
of that kind myself, you know. Is it the latest style?

_Tommy._--Look here, young one: I sha'n't stand any of your chaffing. As
soon as I get through with my bread and butter, I shall take hold of
you.

_Peter._--Your bark is worse than your bite, Tommy. I shouldn't wonder
if you were to come off second best in a square fight.

_Tommy._--Be off, Peter, and let me eat my bread and butter in peace.

_Peter._--It seems to me it would be good manners to offer me a bite.

_Tommy._--You'll provoke me, Peter, to give you a thrashing.

_Peter._--My advice is that you don't try it on.

_Tommy._--Peter, you are a little upstart. I should leave nothing of
you, if I once took hold of you in earnest.

_Peter._--It's a hot day, Tommy, and the wisest thing you can do is to
share your slice with me. I am very hungry.

_Tommy._--Oh, if you're hungry, that alters the case. Sit down, Peter,
and you shall have a good bite.

_Peter._--Ah! That tastes nice. Now, Tommy, explain about that hat of
yours.

_Tommy._--That's my secret, Peter. I sha'n't tell it.

_Peter._--I can guess it. It's only a basket.

_Tommy._--What a wise Peter you are! And to think you've had no
schooling as yet!

UNCLE CHARLES.

IF I WERE A FAIRY.

If I were a fairy slight and small,
Say, about as tall
As a span-worm forming the letter O,
What do you think I would do? I know!
In the bell of the lily I'd rock and swing,
Twitter and sing;
And, taking the gold-dust under me,
I'd splash the hips of the buzzing bee,
That he might have meal to make his bread,
With honey spread,
For his thousand babies all in rows,
Each in a bandbox up to his nose.

I'd count the curls of the hyacinth
By the fallen plinth,
And make them glossy with