Wife, son, and daughter, Satan! are thy own, LITTLE JIM. THE cottage was a thatch'd one, Yet every thing within that cot, The night was dark and stormy, A little worn out creature, His once bright eyes grown dim, It was a collier's only child, РОРЕ. And oh to see the briny tears, Fast hurrying down her cheek, As she offer'd up a prayer in thought,She was afraid to speak, Lest she might waken one she loved, Far better than her life, For she had all a mother's love, With hands uplifted see she kneels, Beside the sufferer's bed, And prays that He will spare And take herself instead. her boy, She gets her answer from the child, 66 Soft fall these words from him, Mother, the angels do so smile, And beckon Little Jim. "I have no pain, dear mother, now, But oh! I am so dry, Just moisten poor Jim's lips again, And mother, don't you cry." With gentle trembling haste, she held, The tea-cup to his lips; He smiled to thank her as he took, Three little tiny sips. "Tell father when he comes from work, I said good-night to him,— And mother now, I'll go to sleep,”- She saw that he was dying; The child she loved so dear, Had utter'd the last words that she The cottage door was open'd,- The father and the mother meet,- He felt that all was over, He knew his child was dead,— He took the candle in his hand,—And walk'd up to the bed. His quivering lips gave token, Of the grief he'd fain conceal ;And now his wife has join'd him— The stricken couple kneel. With hearts bow'd down with sadness, Their own dear Little Jim. Written by a Collier. N ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE. JACQUES in As You Like It. ALL the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; Even in the cannon's mouth: and then the justice, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, And whistles in his sound: last scene of all, SHAKESPERE. THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY. A MAN in many a country town we know, Yet some affirm, no enemies they are; |