Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them all day long And so make life, death, and that vast forever, One grand, sweet song. —_Charles Kingsley._ THE LANGUAGE OF THE BIRDS. Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove, The Linnet and Thrush say, “I love and I love!” In the winter they’re silent—the wind is so strong; What it says, I don’t know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And singing and loving all come back together. “I love, and I love,” almost all the birds say, From sunrise to star-rise, so gladsome are they! But the Lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings; and forever sings he— “I love my Love, and my Love loves me!” —_Samuel Taylor Coleridge._ [Illustration] REMEDY FOR EVIL. For every evil under the sun, There is a remedy, or there is none. If there be one, try and find it. If there be none, never mind it. [Illustration] MEDDLESOME MATTY. One ugly trick has often spoiled The sweetest and the best; Matilda, though a pleasant child, One ugly trick possessed, Which, like a cloud before the skies Hid all her better qualities. Sometimes she’d lift the tea-pot lid, To peep at what was in it; Or tilt the kettle, if you did But turn your back a minute. In vain you told her not to touch, Her trick of meddling grew so much. Her grandmamma went out one day, And by mistake she laid Her spectacles, and snuff-box gay Too near the little maid; “Ah! well,” thought she, “I’ll try them on, As soon as grandmamma is gone.” Forthwith she placed upon her nose The glasses large and wide; And looking round, as I suppose, The snuff-box, too, she spied: “Oh! what a pretty box is that; I’ll open it,” said little Matt. “I know that grandmamma would say, ‘Don’t meddle with it, dear;’ But, then, she’s far enough away, And no one else is near: Besides, what can there be amiss In opening such a box as this?” So thumb and finger went to work To move the stubborn lid, And presently a mighty jerk The mighty mischief did; For all at once, ah! woeful case, The snuff came puffing in her face. Poor eyes and nose, and mouth beside, A dismal sight presented; In vain, as bitterly she cried, Her folly she repented. In vain she ran about for ease; She could do nothing now but sneeze.