I'd kе to trade my woes, self-made,
And the cares that come to men,

For the keen delight of a boy's glad right
To follow the band again.

Cuddle Doon

BY ALEXANDER ANDERSON.

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' muckle faucht an' din.
"O, try and sleep, ye waukrife rogues:
Your father's coming in."

They never heed a word I speak,
I try to gie a froon;

But aye, I hap them up, an' cry,

"O, bairnies, cuddle doon!"

Wee Jamie, wi' the curly heid

He aye sleeps next the wa'-
Bangs up an' cries, "I want a piece
The rascal starts them a'.

I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks-
They stop awee the soun'-

Then draw the blankets up, an' cry,
"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon!"

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries out, fra 'neath the claes,
"Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at once;
He's kittlin' wi' his taes."

The mischief's in that Tam for tricks;
He'd bother half the toon.
But aye I hap them up, and cry,
"O, bairnies, cuddle doon!"

At length they hear their father's fit;
An' as he steeks the door,

They turn their faces to the wa',

While Tam pretends to snore.

"Hae a' the weans be

As he pits off his sno

he asks,

"The bairnies, John, are in their beds,
An' lang since cuddled doon!"

An' just afore we bed oorsels,
We look at oor wee lambs.

Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck,
An' Rab his airm roun' Tam's.

I lift wee Jamie up the bed,
An' as I straik each croon,
I whisper, till my heart fills up,
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' mirth that's dear to me;
But soon the big warl's cark an' care
Will quaten doon their glee.

Yet come what will to ilka ane,

May He who sits aboon

Aye whisper, though their pows be bauld,
"O, bairnies, cuddle doon!"

A Happy Family

BY NIXON WATERMAN.

I know a happy family of cunning boys and girls
Who have such round and rosy cheeks and pretty,
golden curls.

In all that they may have to do they pleasantly agree,
And every one of them is kind and good as good can be.

They never call each other names, nor pull each other's hair,

Nor find the slightest bit of fault with what they have
to wear.

They never cry at night because they have to go to bed,
Nor ever frown at any one, no matter what is said.

Not one of them was ever known to try to tease the cat, Or even have a wish to do a naughty deed like that. When they are asked to do a thing, they never say, “I sha'n't!"

Because they're dolls, these boys and girls, and so, you see, they can't.

Don't*

BY NIXON WATERMAN.

I might have just the mostest fun
If't wasn't for a word,

I think the very worstest one
'At ever I have heard.

I wish 'at it 'u'd go away,

But I'm afraid it won't;

I s'pose 'at it'll always stay

That awful word of "don't."

It's "Don't you make a bit of noise,"
And "Don't go out-of-door;"

And "Don't you spread your stock of toys
About the parlor floor;"

And "Don't you dare to play in the dust;"
And "Don't you tease the cat;"

And "Don't you get your clothing mussed;"
And "Don't" do this and that.

It seems to me I've never found

A think I'd like to do

But what there's someone else around
'At's got a "don't" or two.

And Sunday-'at's the day 'at “don't "
Is worst of all the seven.

Oh, goodness! but I hope there won't
Be any "don'ts" in heaven!

[From "A Book of Verses." Copyright, 1900, Nixon Waterman.]

Ballad of Bedlam

Oh, lady, wake! the azure moon
Is rippling in the verdant skies;
The owl is warbling his soft tune,
Awaiting but thy snowy eyes.
The joys of future years are past,
To-morrow's hopes have fled away;
Still let us love, and e'en at last

We shall be happy yesterday.

The early beam of rosy night

Drives off the ebon morn afar,

While through the murmur of the light
The huntsman winds his mad guitar.
Then, lady, wake! my brigantine

Pants, neighs and prances to be free;

Till the creation I am thine,

To some rich desert fly with me.

-From "Punch."

He and She

BY EUGENE FITCH WARE.

When I am dead you'll find it hard,
Said he,

To ever find another man

Like me.

What makes you think, as I suppose

You do,

I'd ever want another man

Like you?

The Higher Pantheism

BY A. C. SWINBURNE.

One, who is not, we see; but one, whom we see not, is; Surely, this is not that; but that is assuredly this.

What, and wherefore, and whence; for under is over and under.

If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thunder.

Doubt is faith in the main; but faith, on the whole, is

doubt;

We cannot believe by proof; but could we believe without?

Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover;

Neither are straight lines curves; yet over is under and

over.

One and two are not one; but one and nothing is two; Truth can hardly be false, if falsehood cannot be true. Parallels all things are; yet many of these are askew; You are certainly I; but certainly I am not you.

One, whom we see not, is; and one, who is not, we see; Fiddle, we know, is diddle; and diddle, we take it, is dee.

A Child's Laughter

BY A. C. SWINBURNE.

All the bells of heaven may ring,
All the birds of heaven may sing,
All the wells on earth may spring,
All the winds on earth may bring
All sweet sounds together;
Sweeter far than all things heard,
Hand of harper, tone of bird,

Sounds of woods at sundawn stirred,
Welling water's winsome word,

Wind in warm, wan weather.