--_Margaret Johnson._

THREE LITTLE BUGS IN A BASKET.

Three little bugs in a basket,
And hardly room for two;
And one was yellow, and one was black,
And one like me or you;
The space was small, no doubt, for all,
So what should the three bugs do?

Three little bugs in a basket,
And hardly crumbs for two;
And all were selfish in their hearts,
The same as I or you.
So the strong one said, "We will eat the bread,
And that's what we will do!"

Three little bugs in a basket,
And the beds but two could hold;
And so they fell to quarreling--
The white, the black, and the gold--
And two of the bugs got under the rugs,
And one was out in the cold.

He that was left in the basket,
Without a crumb to chew,
Or a thread to wrap himself withal,
When the wind across him blew,
Pulled one of the rugs from one of the bugs,
And so the quarrel grew.

So there was war in the basket;
Ah! pity 'tis, 'tis true!
But he that was frozen and starved, at last
A strength from his weakness drew,
And pulled the rugs from both the bugs,
And killed and ate them, too!

Now when bugs live in a basket,
Though more than it well can hold,
It seems to me they had better agree--
The black, the white, and the gold--
And share what comes of beds and crumbs,
And leave no bug in the cold.

--_Alice Cary._

WHENEVER A LITTLE CHILD IS BORN.

Whenever a little child is born,
All night a soft wind rocks the corn,
One more butter-cup wakes to the morn,
Somewhere.
One more rose-bud shy will unfold,
One more grass-blade push through the mould,
One more bird's song the air will hold,
Somewhere.

--_Agnes L. Carter._

SWEET AND LOW.

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west,
Under the silver moon;
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one,