ery long, dear children. I know how it will all be.
When it is quite dark to-night, and she is sitting in the leather chair
with the high back, her head on one side, and her poor long neck
aching, quite suddenly she will hear two voices shouting for joy. She
will start up and listen, wondering how long she has been sleeping, and
then she will call out--

"Oh, my darlings, is it you?" And they will answer back--

"Yes, it is us, we have come, we have come!" and before her will stand
Willie and Apple-blossom. For the big doll will have run down, and the
wire spring and the sawdust will have vanished, and Apple-blossom will
be the doll's little girl no more. Then the tall aunt will look at them
both and kiss them; and she will kiss the poor little goat too,
wondering if it is possible to buy him a new tail. But though she will
say little, her heart will sing for joy. Ah, children, there is no song
that is sung by bird or bee, or that ever burst from the happiest lips,
that is half so sweet as the song we sometimes sing in our hearts--a
song that is learnt by love, and sang only to those who love us.

SWINGING.

I.

Swing, swing, swing,
Through the drowsy afternoon;
Swing, swing, swing,
Up I go to meet the moon.
Swing, swing, swing,
I can see as I go high
Far along the crimson sky;
I can see as I come down
The tops of houses in the town;
High and low,
Fast and slow,
Swing, swing, swing.

II.

Swing, swing, swing,
See! the sun is gone away;
Swing, swing, swing,
Gone to make a bright new day.
Swing, swing, swing.
I can see as up I go
The poplars waving to and fro,
I can see as I come down
The lights are twinkling in the town,
High and low,
Fast and slow,
Swing, swing, swing.

THE WOODEN DOLL.

The wooden doll had no peace. My dears, if ever you are a doll, hope to
be a rag doll, or a wax doll, or a doll full of sawdust apt to ooze
out, or a china doll easy to break--anything in the world rather than a
good strong wooden doll with a painted head and movable joints, for
that is indeed a sad thing to be. Many a time the poor wooden doll
wished it were a tin train, or a box of soldiers, or a woolly lamb, or
anything on earth rather than what it was. It never had any peace; it
was taken up and put d