g his cold northern tides,
A plume from his eagle the Russian provides;
Whilst England, fair England, the wreath shall adorn,
With her rose-bud more bright than the blushes of morn.
Then carol, then carol the sweet strains of peace,
And never again may her harmony cease;
May the dreams, may the dreams of ambition be o'er,
And the falchion of war be at rest evermore.

[Illustration: _to face pa. 19_

_Little Girl_]

THE BLIND BOY.

"Mamma, what a pretty new basket you've got,"
Little Emma exclaim'd with delight;
"The straw-work below is so firm and so neat,
And the bag such a beautiful white."

"I am glad you approve it, my love: I myself
Think it pretty and neat, I confess;
And when I have told you by whom it was made,
You will not, I think, like it the less.

"You remember, no doubt, that blind boy on the green,
Whose father and mother both died,
And left him in poverty, sickness, and grief,
Without a protector or guide.

"A kind and rich lady, who heard his sad case,
Restor'd him to life by her aid,
Then plac'd him secure in the house for the blind,
And all the expences defray'd.

"There they taught him these beautiful baskets to make,
With straw-work of every kind;
And now he's employ'd, and his living can earn,
And is useful and happy, though blind."

"And may I believe it," cried Emma, "that Jem,
Who so helpless and poor us'd to be,
Has made this nice basket without any help,
And as neatly as if he could see?"

"As you doubt poor Jem's powers," her mother replied,
"What I've said to be true I must prove;
So finish your work, get your bonnet and coat,
And quickly come to me, my love."

[Illustration: _to face pa. 20_

_The Blind Boy_]

Her work was soon finish'd, her books all laid by,
Her coat and her bonnet put on,
And joyfully taking mamma's ready hand,
To the school for the blind she is gone.

With delight and amazement there Emma beheld
Poor Jem at his daily employ;
As he platted his basket, he sung to his work,
And smil'd with contentment and joy.

"Ah, mamma," exclaim'd Emma, as home they return'd,
"Ev'ry penny you give me I'll save;
Neither gingerbread, comfit, nor nut will I buy,
Till a basket of Jem's I can have."

SPRING.

Wintr