"Coo," said the Turtle-dove.

"Coo," said she.

"Oh, I love thee," said the Turtle-dove. "And I love THEE."

In the long shady branches

Of the dark pine-tree, How happy were the doves In their little nursery!

The

young turtle-doves

Never quarrelled in the nest;

For they dearly loved each other,

Though they loved their mother best.

"Coo," said the little doves.
"Coo," said she.

And they played together kindly
In the dark pine-tree.

Is this nursery of yours,

Little sister, little brother,

Like the Turtle-dove's nestyou love one another?

Do

Are you kind, are you gentle,
As children ought to be?
Then the happiest of nests

Is your own nursery.

Is there a tie of human birth

Has more of heaven and less of earth
Than home-born love, the first and best
That warms a gentle sister's breast,
Who makes the little ones her care,
And loves their pretty sports to share?

Like dew upon the tender flower,
Her gentle words of truth and power,
With wonder, love, and joy combined,
Fall on her little brother's mind;

And thoughts that spring from home-born love

Point to the Better Land above.

THE WATER-MILL.

"ANY grist for the Mill?" How merrily it goes! Flap, flap, flap, flap,

While the water flows.

Round-about and round-about,
The heavy mill-stones grind,
And the dust flies all about the mill,
And makes the Miller blind.

"Any grist for the Mill?"
The jolly farmer packs
His wagon with a heavy load
Of very heavy sacks.
Noisily, oh noisily,

The mill-stones turn about;

You cannot make the Miller hear

Unless you scream and shout.

"Any grist for the Mill?"

The bakers come and go;

They bring their empty sacks to fill,

And leave them down below.

The dusty Miller and his men

Fill all the sacks they bring,

And while they go about their work,

Right merrily they sing.

"Any grist for the Mill?"
How quickly it goes round!
Splash, splash, splash, splash,
With a whirring sound.
Farmers, bring your corn to-day;
And bakers, buy your flour;

Dusty millers, work away,

While it is in your power.

"Any grist for the Mill?" Alas! it will not go;

The river, too, is standing still,

The ground is white with snow. And when the frosty weather comes, And freezes up the streams, The Miller only hears the Mill, And grinds the corn in dreams.

Living close beside the Mill,

The Miller's girls and boys Always play at make-believe, Because they have no toys. "Any grist for our Mill?"

The elder brothers shout, While all the little Petticoats

Go whirling round about.

The Miller's little boys and girls
Rejoice to see the snow.

"Good father, play with us to-day;
You cannot work, you know.
We will be the mill-stones,

And you shall be the wheel; We'll pelt each other with the snow, And it shall be the meal."

Oh, heartily the Miller's wife
Is laughing at the door;
She never saw the mill worked
So merrily before.

66

Bravely done, my little lads,
Rouse up the lazy wheel,

For money comes but slowly in

When snow-flakes are the meal."

CHRIST'S HUMILITY.

CHRIST is merciful and mild;
He was once a little child;
He whom heavenly hosts adore,
Lived on earth among the poor.