Peace smiles above the scene. The waters lie As still and blue as the arched sky they love. No sound salutes the ear, save that, far off, A bird recites to his fond mate his joy; And silence seems but deeper for the slender sound. The butterflies, that frolic noiselessly, Think Earth is Heaven and live by loving flowers. The trees in social groups, link branch to branch And root to root and smile beneath the sun. In harmony with all about I rest. Within my soul there dwells a thought that knows No words, but silent, sweet, it sings to me. Peace smiles above the scene, ’tis Sabbath day. Carrie B. Sanborn. “HAMMOCK STORIES.” MRS. FIG TREE’S FAMILY HISTORY. It was a nice, bright, sunshiny day, and the trees were freshly washed from a warm rain the night before, but it seemed to me when I first lay down in my hammock that they were not in as good humor as usual. Mrs. Pepper Tree had lost her sprightly manner, and her voice was quite peevish when, seeing some children pass on their way from school, she exclaimed: “It beats me what those children do day after day, and year after year! They can’t be very smart or they would have learned all their lessons long ago.” Grandma Liveoak reminded her that according to what she had heard tell, children had a lot more to learn than trees; that they were obliged to study about people and everything they ever did, and about stones and birds and the sky and the flowers, and bugs and flies and the rest, and she expected it took them some time. “I presume they spend a great deal of their time studying my family history,” said Mrs. Fig Tree. “It is a very old and important one, and even grown people go to big buildings when the bells ring, and read and learn about my family.” Her voice was as satisfied, oh, just as satisfied as could be, and she seemed to be quite pleased over something while she was talking. Mrs. Pepper gave her branches a toss, as she crossly exclaimed: “I don’t see what there is in Fig Trees to study over much! All they have anyhow is queer awkward looking leaves in the spring, then green figs growing right out of the branches, no flowers or anything, then by and by all the leaves dropping off again! I wouldn’t think that would take much time or was worth much time either, and for my part I wouldn’t have leaves I couldn’t keep all the year round.” Mrs. Fig answered her in a very polite tone, just as if she was talking to company: “Excuse me, Mrs. Pepper, but probably you never heard that it was my family that gave the first man and woman who ever lived in the world their clothes!” Mrs. Pepper said she never heard it, and she guessed no one else ever did either. But you could see she was getting curious, and so were the other trees, and they finally asked Mrs. Fig to tell them, and so she began.