In the deeps of dark were you but a spark
Till the sun shone along your ways?

Fair new moon, kind new moon,
Will my wish come true some day,
When you're but a ghost of yourself, at the most,
And your glory passes away?

MARY N. PRESCOTT.

HOW MY BOYS HELPED THEIR MOTHER.

WHEN we first came here to live, the lot next to ours was vacant; but
afterwards a house was built on it, and the boys were very much
interested in the progress of the building. Often, when obliged to stay
in doors, they would sit by the window, watching the work on the "new
house," as they called it.

[Illustration]

Mr. Little, the owner of the house, was an old acquaintance of ours, and
very fond of children. So occasionally, when he came to oversee the
work, I would allow the boys to go up and see him; and he would give
them a few nails, or some blocks to play with.

One day, Mr. Little called their attention to the wood which the
carpenters had thrown aside as rubbish, and told them he was going to
pick up some of it, and send it home to burn; "and now, boys," said Mr.
Little, "if you would like to help your mother, here is a chance to get
her some kindling-wood. You may come every day, and get all you can
carry home."

They came home delighted with the plan; and the next morning, as soon as
breakfast was done, they were ready to begin their work. The two oldest
boys took their wheelbarrows, and the youngest one his cart, and off
they started. I could see them from my window, working very diligently,
and they soon came back, each with a good-sized load.

They knocked at the back-door, and asked me where I would have my wood
put. I told them they could put it in the cellar, and opened the outside
cellar-door for them. Each one threw out his load, and started for
another; and so they kept at work nearly the whole forenoon.

They continued to work in this way for a week, sometimes getting one
load a day, and sometimes four or five; and every night, when their papa
came home, they invited him down cellar to see how much wood they had.

In a little room back of the parlor, there was an old-fashioned
fireplace, in which, when the evenings began to grow cool, papa would
build up a nice fire, just after supper. Then he would sit down in the
firelight with the boys, and tell them stories till their bed-time,
greatly to their