THE IDLER.

An idle lingerer on the wayside's road,
He gathers up his work and yawns away;
A little longer, ere the tiresome load
Shall be reduced to ashes or to clay.

No matter if the world has marched along,
And scorned his slowness as it quickly passed;
No matter, if amid the busy throng,
He greets some face, infantile at the last.

His mission? Well, there is but one,
And if it is a mission he knows it, nay,
To be a happy idler, to lounge and sun,
And dreaming, pass his long-drawn days away.

So dreams he on, his happy life to pass
Content, without ambitions painful sighs,
Until the sands run down into the glass;
He smiles--content--unmoved and dies.

And yet, with all the pity that you feel
For this poor mothling of that flame, the world;
Are you the better for your desperate deal,
When you, like him, into infinitude are hurled?

LOVE AND THE BUTTERFLY.

I heard a merry voice one day
And glancing at my side,
Fair Love, all breathless, flushed with play,
A butterfly did ride.
"Whither away, oh sportive boy?"
I asked, he tossed his head;
Laughing aloud for purest joy,
And past me swiftly sped.

Next day I heard a plaintive cry
And Love crept in my arms;
Weeping he held the butterfly,
Devoid of all its charms.
Sweet words of comfort, whispered I
Into his dainty ears,
But Love still hugged the butterfly,
And bathed its wounds with tears.

THE BEE-MAN.

We were glancing over the mental photograph album, and commenting on the
great lack of dissimilarity in tastes. Nearly every one preferred spring
to any other season, with a very few exceptions in favor of autumn. The
women loved Mrs. Browning and Longfellow; the men showed decided
preferences after Emerson and Macauley. Conceit stuck out when the
majority wanted to be themselves and none other, and only two did not
want to live in the 19th century. But in one place, in answer to the
question, "Whom would you rather be, if not yourself?" the answer was,

"A baby!"

"Why would you rather be a baby than any other personage?" queried
someone glancing at the writer, who blushed as she replied.

"Because then I might be able to live a better life, I might have better
opportunities and better chances for improving them, and it would bring
me nearer the 20th century."

"About eight or nine years ago," said the first speaker, "I remember
reading a story