never seems to care.

It is so nice to see him kick,
He has such pretty feet;
I think if we might eat him up
It would be quite a treat.

THE KITE.

It was the most tiresome kite in the world, always wagging its tail,
shaking its ears, breaking its string, sitting down on the tops of
houses, getting stuck in trees, entangled in hedges, flopping down on
ponds, or lying flat on the grass, and refusing to rise higher than a
yard from the ground.

I have often sat and thought about that kite, and wondered who its
father and mother were. Perhaps they were very poor people, just made
of newspaper and little bits of common string knotted together, obliged
to fly day and night for a living, and never able to give any time to
their children or to bring them up properly. It was pretty, for it had
a snow-white face, and pink and white ears; and, with these, no one,
let alone a kite, could help being pretty. But though the kite was
pretty, it was not good, and it did not prosper; it came to a bad end,
oh! a terrible end indeed. It stuck itself on a roof one day, a common
red roof with a broken chimney and three tiles missing. It stuck itself
there, and it would not move; the children tugged and pulled and coaxed
and cried, but still it would not move. At last they fetched a ladder,
and had nearly reached it when suddenly the kite started and flew
away--right away over the field and over the heath, and over the far
far woods, and it never came back again--never--never.

Dear, that is all. But I think sometimes that perhaps beyond the dark
pines and the roaring sea the kite is flying still, on and on, farther
and farther away, for ever and for ever.

THE TINKER'S MARRIAGE.

Two beaux and a belle, a goat and a carriage,
They all set off to the tinker's marriage.
Two three-cornered hats, and one with a feather,
They looked very fine in the sweet summer weather.
But the carriage turned over, the poor goat shied,
The little belle laughed, the silly beaux cried,
And the tinker fumed, "Oh, why do they tarry?
And why don't they come to see me marry?
I shall throw my bride right into the sea,
If they are not here by half-past three."
But the belle was laughing, "Oh, what shall we do!"
And the beaux were crying, "Bee-bee-bee-boo."

THE CHILDREN AND THE GARLAND.

"To-morrow is May-day," the children said; "the birds must call us very
earl