pulled out his knife, you see,
And on the smooth-barked beech-en tree
Has some-thing found to do;
He's carv-ing deep, and plain, and well
The let-ters, one by one, which spell
His name and An-nie's too.

His sis-ter An-nie, stand-ing by,
Is watch-ing with a cu-ri-ous eye,
And won-der-ing at his skill.
To men and wo-men when they grow,
They'll come and find the beech tree show
Those names quite plain-ly still.

THE CON-CERT.

"See how it rains! We can-not go
Our walk a-cross the fields; and so,
Since Tom and Et-tie Holmes are come,
And cous-in Fred has brought his drum,
And some can sing, and o-thers play,
We'll have a con-cert here to-day.
You, Tom, must in the mid-dle stand,
And mark the time, with stick in hand;
You, bro-ther Ben, the tongs must take,
For they will good tri-an-gles make;
Hal clicks the 'bones,' and Em-me-line
Will beat her lit-tle tam-bour-ine,
And cous-in Fred will drum a-way,
And Kate the con-cer-ti-na play.
All must at-tend to Tom; and mind
None play too fast, nor lag be-hind;
And then, I'm sure, we all shall see
How grand a con-cert this will be,
And say this is the wis-est way
To spend this wet Oc-to-ber day."

[Illustration: The long-billed Snipe fre-quents our clime
About the chil-ly au-tumn time.]

[Illustration: The Ti-ger, from his hid-den lair,
Springs on the tra-vel-ler un-a-ware.]

[Illustration: The U-rano-sco-pus hides a-mong
The mud, and an-gles with its tongue.]

[Illustration: Though gay and pleas-ing to the sight,
The Vi-per has a dead-ly bite.]

[Illustration: THE CONCERT.]

[Illustration: CAUGHT IN THE FOG.]

[Illustration]

PLAY-ING WITH WOOD-EN BRICKS.

An In-di-an tem-ple on the floor
The chil-dren build with wood-en bricks,
They've placed two pil-lars by the door,
And on the roof they now would fix
A good tall spire, so Et-ty takes
A long-er brick, and sets it there;
And though when-e'er we walk it shakes,
It will not tum-ble, I de-clare!

CAUGHT IN THE FOG.

Anne and Jane will long re-mem-her
How, one morn-ing in No-vem-ber,
As they both were home-ward stroll-ing,
Round the Lon-don fog came roll-ing--
First, a yel-low dark-ness fall-ing,
Then a noise of link-boys call-ing,
Cab, and 'bus, and cart-wheels rum-bling,
Hor-ses on the pave-ment stum-bling,
Peo-ple, in the smoke and smo-ther,
Run-ning up a-gainst each other,
No one see-ing, much less know-ing,
Whi-ther he or she was go-ing.
Little Jan