"A penny a bunch is the price;
I think you'll not find it too much;
They're tied up so even and nice,
And ready to light with a touch."

4. I asked, "What's your name, little girl?"
"'Tis Mary," said she,--"Mary Dow,"
And carelessly tossed off a curl,
That played o'er her delicate brow.

5. "My father was lost in the deep,--
The ship never got to the shore;
And mother is sad, and will weep,
When she hears the wind blow and sea roar.

6. "She sits there at home, without food,
Beside our poor sick Willie's bed;
She paid all her money for wood,
And so I sell matches for bread.

7. "For every time that she tries
Some things she'd be paid for to make,
And lays down the baby, it cries,
And that makes my sick brother wake.

8. "I'd go to the yard and get chips,
But, then, it would make me too sad,
To see men there building the ships,
And think they had made one so bad.

9. "I've one other gown, and, with care,
We think it may decently pass,
With my bonnet that's put by to wear
To meeting and Sunday-school class.

10. "I love to go there, where I'm taught,
Of One who's so wise and so good,
He knows every action and thought,
And gives e'en the raven his food.

11. "For He, I am sure, who can take
Such fatherly care of a bird,
Will never forget or forsake
The children who trust to his word.

12. "And now, if I only can sell
The matches I brought out to-day,
I think I shall do very well,
And mother'll rejoice at the pay."

13. "Fly home, little bird," then I thought,
"Fly home, full of joy, to your nest!"
For I took all the matches she brought,
And Mary may tell you the rest.

LESSON XLVI.

_It Snows._--H.F. GOULD.

1. It snows! it snows! from out the sky,
The feathered flakes, how fast they fly!
Like little birds, that don't know why
They're on the chase, from place to place,
While neither can the other trace.
It snows! it snows! a merry play
Is o'er us, on this heavy day!

2. As dancers in an airy hall,
That hasn't room to hold them all,
While some keep up and others fall,
The atoms shift; then, thick and swift,
They drive along to form the drift,
That, weaving up, so dazzling white,
Is rising like a wall of light.

3. But now the wind comes whistling loud