imple and touching in the whole
story, from beginning to end, that one can scarcely read it without
weeping over her sufferings, and wondering in their hearts at the
severity of her punishment.

In former times there was a real belief in supernatural things among the
simple-minded, a belief which, it seems to me, was much more in
accordance with the Christian character than the senseless unbelief in
every thing which cannot be explained according to natural laws, which
is certainly very much the case at the present day among the wise and
learned, and much more to be regretted than the credulousness of other
days.

[Illustration]

NAUGHTY MARIAN.

[Illustration: NAUGHTY MARIAN.]

I thought to find my little girl,
When I came home at night,
With brow unruffled as her curl,
And smiles of love as bright.

I thought she'd jump upon my knee,
And tell me all she'd done,
In reading, study, work, or play,
From morn till set of sun.

Is this my Marian? No, indeed!
Not such a frown had she!
When my own little girl comes back,
Just send her in to me!

[Illustration]

MORNING HOUR.

* * * * *

I.

The buds and the blossoms,
How bright to the view!
Like jewels and diamonds
They sparkle with dew.

II.

The sun's rising beams
Have kissed each bright flower:
How lovely the scene!
How peaceful the hour!

III.

All nature awakens
From a night of soft sleep,
And the insects once more
From their hiding-holes creep.

IV.

The old birds have flown
Far away to get food,
While anxiously wait,
Their young trembling brood.

V.

To our Father in heaven
Our voices we'll raise,
With feelings most fervent,
In songs to his praise.

VI.

Dear Saviour, to love thee
Our hearts are inclined,
Oh, teach us, we pray thee,
Thy precepts to mind.

VII.

Upon our heart-garden,
Oh, let thy love rain,
Like fresh summer showers
Upon the young grain.

VIII.

Like soft, gentle dew
Upon the dry earth,
Which opens the old buds,
And to new ones gives birth.

IX.

Oh, teach us to offer
Good deeds in thy praise,
And acts of true charity
Be the hymns that we raise.

X.

From all that will harm us,
Or sorrow will bring,
Oh, keep us, dear Lord,
Beneath thy bright wing.

THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP.