What was Elsie's surprise next morning, to find that her picnic dress had been mended "good as new." She did not need to ask who did it, for she felt certain that it was grandmamma's work, and so it proved. Grandmamma remembered that she herself was a little girl once, and that blessed memory brought her into close sympathy with the grief and joy of her little granddaughter. And so Elsie, thanks to her grandmamma's tact and tenderness, went to Dolly Blossom's birthday party. [Illustration: GRANDMAMMA WONDERS IF SHE CAN'T MEND IT.] GOING TO BED. The evening is coming, The Sun sinks to rest; The rooks are all flying Straight home to their nest. "Caw!" says the rook, as he flies overhead: It's time little people were going to bed! The flowers are closing, The daisy's asleep; The primrose is buried In slumber so deep. Shut up for the night is the pimpernel red: It's time little people were going to bed! The butterfly, drowsy, Has folded its wing; The bees are returning, No more the birds sing. Their labor is over, their nestlings are fed: It's time little people were going to bed! Here comes the pony, His work is all done; Down through the meadow He takes a good run; Up goes his heels, and down goes his head: It's time little people were going to bed! Good-night, little people, Good-night and good-night; Sweet dreams to your eyelids, Till dawning of light; The evening has come, there's no more to be said: It's time little people were going to bed! T. HOOD. [Illustration: GOING TO BED.] THE CAT AND THE PARROT. A lady who lived in New York City owned a pet parrot and a large house cat. The parrot was just as full of mischief as could be. One day the cat and parrot had a quarrel. I think the cat had upset Polly's food, or something of that kind. However, they seemed all right again. An hour or so after Polly was on her stand, she called out in a tone of extreme affection, "Pussy! Pussy! come here, Pussy." Pussy went and looked up innocently enough; Polly with her beak seized her tin of food and tipped its contents all over the cat, and then chuckled as poor Puss ran away half frightened to death. BABY. Who is it coos just like a dove? Who is it that we dearly love-- The brightest blessing from above? Our baby. While silent watch the angels keep, Who smiles so sweetly in his sleep, And oft displays his dimples deep. Our baby. [Illustration: POLLY PLAYING OFF A TRICK ON PUSS.] THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER. We were crowded in the cabin, Not a soul would dare to sleep,-- It was midnight on the waters, And a storm was on the deep.