I saw a golden missal, too, ’Twas writ in ancient ages, And stars—immortal words of light— Illumined all its pages! The hand of God unclasped the book, And oped its leaves of glory; I read, with awed and reverent look, Creation’s wondrous story. I will not waste these summer hours, The gift that He has given; I’ll find philosophy in flowers, Astronomy in heaven! Yon morning-glory shuts its leaves, A worm creeps out from under; Ye volumes, take the hint she gives, And let the book-worm wander! I’ll scan no more old Virgil’s verse, I’d rather scan the heavens; I’ll leave the puzzling Rule-of-Three At sixes and at sevens; The only sum I’ll cipher out Shall be the “_summum bonum_;” My only _lines_—shall fish for trout, Till Virgil wouldn’t own ’em! A costly cover has my book, Rich blue, where light is winding; How poor, beside its beauty, look Your calf and cotton binding. Away! the balmy air—the birds— Can teach me music better Than all your hard, high-sounding words, That still my fancy fetter. The waves will tell me how to play That waltz of Weber’s rightly; And I shall learn, from every spray, To dance, with grace and lightly. Hush! hark! I heard a far-off bird, I’ll read no more this morning; The jasmine glows—the woodbine blows! I’m off—your sermons scorning! * * * * * ALL ABOUT “WHAT’S IN A NAME.” BY CAROLINE C——. ’Tis folly to think of life’s troubles, yet they have the most inconvenient faculty of forcing themselves on the minds of men! _An. Phi._