But yet there was one moving thing,-- A still and lonely ark,-- That, many a weary day and night, Sailed o'er that ocean dark. At last, a little dove was forth From that lone vessel sent; But, wearied, to the ark again, When evening came, she bent. Again she went, but soon returned, And in her beak was seen A little twig--an olive-branch-- With leaves of shining green. The waters sank, and then the dove Flew from the ark once more, And came not back, but lived among The tree-tops, as before. Then from the ark they all came forth, With songs of joy and praise; And once again the green earth smiled Beneath the sun's warm rays. THE BEE. [Illustration] Now, Ellen, stop screaming and running away, And come here and listen to me; Is it true, my dear daughter, I want you to say, That you're foolishly scared by a bee? The bee is as frightened as you are, my dear, For he can't tell the way to get out; And as for his sting, that you never need fear, If you do not run crying about. If you were to catch him, why, then, I dare say You'd soon feel his sharp little sting; But if you sit still at your work or your play, Be sure that no harm he will bring. So wipe off these tears and never again Give way to so foolish a fright; For if you indulge it 't will cost you much pain And no one will want you in sight. [Illustration] SUNDAY. [Illustration: Letter T.] 'T is Sunday morning, dear mamma! I do not wish to play; Last night I put my dolls and toys Safe in my box away. I'll come and sit down by your side, While you the story tell Of the good little Joseph, whom His father loved so well. And of the time when waters dark Covered the world around; And all but Noah in his ark, Beneath the waves were drowned. And of the gentle dove, that forth O'er those wide waters flew, And twice, with weary wing, returned, No resting-place in view. And how the infant Moses, too, Floated the Nile along; And how his mother made for him The basket cradle strong. Please tell these Bible-stories then, And take me on your knee, And I'll sit still, my dear mamma, And listen quietly. [Illustration] THE PLEASANT WORLD. [Illustration: Letter I.] I love to see the sun go down Behind the western hill; I love to see the night come on, When everything is still. I love to see the moon and stars Shine brightly in the sky; I love to see the rolling clouds Above my head so high. I love to see the little flowers That grow up from the ground; To hear the wind blow through the trees, And make a rustling sound. I love to see the sheep and lambs So happy in their play; I love to hear the small birds sing Sweetly, at close of day. I love to see them _all_, because They are so bright and fair; And He who made this pleasant world Will listen to my prayer. [Illustration] SAMUEL. [Illustration: I.]