-_Mary Mapes Dodge._

[1] From "Along the Way," copyright 1879 by Mary Mapes Dodge,
and published by Chas. Scribner's Sons.

WYNKEN, BLYNKEN AND NOD.[2]

Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going?" "What do you wish?"
The old Moon asked the three.
"We come to fish for the herring fish
That live in the beautiful sea,
Nets of silver and gold have we,"
Said Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

The old Moon laughed and sang a song
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea,--
"Now cast your nets whenever you wish,
Never afeard are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three--
Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam.
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe
Bringing the fishermen home.
'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed
As if it could not be,
And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea.
But I can name you the fishermen three--
Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle bed.
So shut your eyes while mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock on the misty sea,--
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three--
Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

--_Eugene Field._

[2] From "Love Songs of Childhood." Copyright, 1894, by
Eugene Field. Reprinted by permission of the publishers,
Chas. Scribner's Sons.

PRETTY IS THAT PRETTY DOES.

The spider wears a plain brown dress,
And she is a steady spinner;
To see her, quiet as a mouse,
Going about her silver house,
You would never, never, never guess
The way she gets her dinner.

She looks as if no thought of ill
In all her life had stirred her;
But while she moves with careful tread,
And while she spins her silken thread,
She is planning, planning, planning still
The way to do some murder.

My child, who reads this simple lay,
With eyes do