es
galore.

CORINNE'S MUSICALE.

Inside of me says I am naughty,
But truly, I know I am not;
For if Brother Joe could see me
Right in this very same spot,
He'd let me do just
what I'm doing,
I'm very sure; that is,
perhaps. Oh dear! however do
big folks
Hold this thing
straight in their
laps?

It slips, an' it slips, an'
it slips,
You naughty old
Banjo, oh dear!

Is he coming? then what
will he do
To find me sitting up
here! Ho, ho! 'twas a mouse
--how silly
An' frightened I've actually been;
For he'd say, "If you hold it quite still,
You may take it, I'm willing, Corinne!"

I know: so now I'll begin it;
How does he go "tum-ty tum ting,"
An' make such beautiful tunes;
Too lovely for anything?
I ain't a bit 'fraid they may hear,
--The house-people 'way off below--
Me playing in Brother Joe's room,
Still I better be careful, you know.

If they didn't say 'twas amusing,
I sh'd think 'twas stupid to play,
To tug at such tiresome strings
An' make them come over this way;
But it must be delightful. I'll pull
A very fine tune at first;
Now, "tum-ty ting tw-a-n-g!"
It sound's as if something had burst!

That string must 'a' truly been cracked,
Don't you s'pose? or moth-eaten, p'raps;
'Tisn't pleasant to practice, I'm sure,
But forlorn, when anything flaps.
So I guess I have finished; hark, hark!
He really IS coming--Oh my!
Now, Banjo, I know mamma wants me,
An' so I must bid you good-by!
MARGARET SIDNEY.

Mr. Bunny was a rabbit,
Mr. Bunny was a thief!
He hopped into my garden
And stole a cabbage leaf.

He ate up all my parsnips
Without asking if he may,
And when I tried to catch him
Kicked up his heels
and ran away.

BARBARA FRIETCHIE.

Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,

The clustered spires of Frederick stand
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.

Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach-tree fruited deep,

Fair as