make the earth a cheerless place,
Should we dispense with these.

The little birds! how fond they play!
Do not disturb their sport;
But let them warble forth their songs,
Till winter cuts them short.

[Illustration]

Don't kill the birds!--the happy birds
That bless the field and grove:
Such harmless things to look upon,
They claim our warmest love.

[Illustration]

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.

[Illustration: W]

Who showed the little ant the way
Her narrow hole to bore,
And spend the pleasant summer day
In laying up her store?

The sparrow builds her pretty nest
Of wool, and hay, and moss;
Who told her how to build it best,
And lay the twigs across?

Who taught the busy bee to fly
Among the sweetest flowers,
And lay his store of honey by,
To eat in winter hours?

'Twas God who showed them all the way,
And gave them all their skill;
He teaches children, if they pray,
To do his holy will.

[Illustration]

WINTER SPORT.

[Illustration: D]

Down, down the hill how swift I go!
Over the ice, and over the snow;
A horse or cart I do not fear.
For past them both my sled I steer.

[Illustration]

Hurra! my boy! I'm going down,
While you toil up; but never frown;
The far hill-top you soon will gain,
And then, with all your might and main,

You'll dash by me; while, full of glee,
I'll up again to dash by thee!
So on we glide--O, life of joy;
What pleasure has the glad school-boy!

THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.

[Illustration: H]

How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view;
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,
And every loved spot which my infancy knew;
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it,
The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell;
The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,
And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well.
The old oaken bucket--the iron-bound bucket--
The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well.

That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure--
For often, at noon, when returned from the field,
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.
How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing,
And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;
Then soon, w