No evil lurked within her breast;
Her face was always bright;
Her trusty hands, scarce needing rest,
Were busy day and night.

Her voice was sweet as voice of birds
That to each other call;
And when she spoke, her striking words
Were listened to by all.

E'en Baby Bunting--darling boy,
The happiest of his race--
Would clap his little hands with joy,
And look up in her face.

But none can reach perfection here;
Like all beneath the sun,
She, too, could err, and her career
Was not a faultless one.

She only did, here let me tell,
Each day the best she could;
Would young folks all but do as well,
The world might soon grow good.

But all is past! Ah! cold that face!
That bosom throbs no more!
Oh! must another take her place,
And we our loss deplore?

Nay, nay, we could not bear the pain
Of losing one so true;--
Old Nancy Chime shall tick again,
And be as good as new.

HOW HE CAUGHT HIM.

[Illustration: HANS GETS A FIRST-RATE BITE.]

[Illustration: THEN HE CATCHES A FISH AND PULLS HIM OUT.]

[Illustration: HANS FINDS IT HARDER TO HOLD THE FISH THAN TO CATCH HIM.]

[Illustration: THEN HANS BEGINS TO WONDER WHETHER HE OR THE FISH IS
CAUGHT.]

[Illustration: THE FISH NOW CATCHES HANS AND PULLS HIM IN.]

[Illustration: HANS AND THE FISH AGREE TO STOP CATCHING EACH OTHER.]

WHO PUT OUT THE TEA-PARTY?

BY ELLEN FRANCES TERRY.

One day, when I was a small girl, my little sister Katy and I found in
the yard a dry-goods box, in which the new carpets had been sent home.
As usual, we ran to where grandma sat knitting and nodding:

"Oh, grandma, _mayn't_ we have it?" cried I.

"Yet hab it, dranma?" echoed Katy.

"You know we never had a baby-house."

"No, nebber had no baby-'ouse."

"Oh, say yes!"

"'Ay 'et!"

"Do, do!"

"Pede do!"

Then, before she knew what she was to do, or say, or what she never had
done, or said, we coaxed her to the back door and pointed to our
treasure. She couldn't refuse us, and the box was given to us.

John made us a card-board chimney, and cut a square window in either
end, for, of course, we set it on its feet, turning its back to the lane
against whose fence it stood, looking into the yard. Grandma gave us red
curtains for the windows, and a big striped apron, which hung across the
front and did for a door. We had to have a door, for, when we took tea,
the chicken