ess he'd like to hear
What his little girl is doing,
The same as when he is near;

I'll tell him how I miss him,
And how I'd wish he'd come,
And never, never, leave us,
But always stay at home.

I'll tell him 'bout my dolly,
She's sleeping on the floor,
I fear that noise will wake her,
Oh! please don't slam the door.

For I must not be bothered,
That's just what ma would say,
When she begins a letter,
And sends me off to play.

I'll send him lots of kisses,
And one bright shining curl,
I'll ask him to remember
His lonely little girl;

I want so much to see him,
But I won't cry a wink,
Cause when I write my letter,
The tears would blot my ink.

I'm going to write to papa,
And oh! how glad he'll be.
To get a little letter
That was written all by me.

Old Letters

I gaze upon ye, once again,
Old records of the past,
And o'er the dim and faded lines
My tears are falling fast;

I deem'd not there was a power yet,
In these few simple words,
To stir within my quiet heart
Such old familiar chords.

Ye bring me back mine early dreams--
Oh, but to dream them now,
With childhood's fresh, unwearied heart,
And pure unsadden'd brow!

The loved--the lost--the changed--
The dead--all these we conjure up,
And mingled in the draught
That lies in memory's magic cup.

Old letters--sad mementoes ye,
Of friendship's shatter'd chain,
Oh! that the hand these pages traced,
My own might clasp again.

They tell me yet of early love,
Of feelings glad and gay,
Of childhood's April hopes and fears--
The writers, where are they?

Time's changes are for deeper things
Than folly's vain pursuit,
Spring blossoms fade, to leave a place
For autumn's ripen'd fruit.

Look back upon the buried past,
But not with vain regret,
Be grateful for the many joys
That bloom around thee yet.

Bend heavenward thine onward course,
That years of coming age
May leave an impress in life's book,
Pure as its opening page!

Papa's Letter

I was sitting in my study,
Writing letters, when I heard:
"Please, dear mamma, Mary told me
That you mustn't be disturbed.

But I'se tired of the kitty,
Want some ozzer thing to do.
Writing letters is 'ou mamma?
Tan't I write a letter, too?"

"Not now, darling, mamma's bu