“My boy, get your hat, and come with me. The day is so fine and dry, that we can walk out. Take hold of my hand, and let us go and feel the warm sun. “We will go and see a poor man, and take him some food. He is very old and lame, and has no meat, and no bread, and no milk. We will give him some of ours; we can put the milk into a jug, and take the meat in a plate, and you shall also take some bread to him. “He will be so glad to see us, poor man! He will say, I thank you; and he will eat the nice food that we take him.” “May we take him some soup too?” “Yes, it will warm him, for he has got no fire, and he sits in his room, and is often very cold. He is not able to run and get warm, for he is lame. We can take him a book, too, for he can read. Now we have got to his house. Look, the poor man has a cat: she often sits by his side, and curls her tail, and when he pats her she says, ‘purr, purr.’” “Poor puss! I must feed you, too, and pat your soft back. Do not run away, I will not hurt you.” “The good old man is not here; he is gone out; so we will put down the food for him and soon come and see him again.” “Thank you, mamma, I like so much to walk with you.” Discontented Betty. One morning as Betty sat milking her cow, And thinking as much as her time would allow, A neighbor came by who had known her for years, To whom Betty confided her cares and her fears. “Well, Betty, and how do you like your new place?” Said she, “you’re looking in very good case!” “Indeed,” replied Betty, “I never was worse, For I find I am expected to slave like a horse; By four in the morning I’m up at my work; (Then there is nothing to live on but cabbage and pork!) I’ve to wash, and to brew, and to dairy and bake, And eight or nine beds every morning to make, Besides keeping clean every place you can look in; But the greatest annoyance, by far, is the cooking!” Her friend, who had patiently heard all she said, Observed, with a sigh and a shake of the head―― “Indeed, my dear Betty, contentment is wealth, Though you have plenty to do, you have excellent health; I assure you, (believe it or not as you please,) I had rather be you, making butter and cheese, Than the idle fine lady who lives at her ease!” * * * * * What boxes govern the world? The cartridge-box, the ballot-box, the jury-box, and the band-box.――_New York Paper._ HOPE. THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM. [Illustration: Music] 1. The lark whose morning song is gay, At evening hath a pensive lay. The thrush that caroll’d blithe at morn, Sits silent now in yonder thorn. But evening hath no frown for me; No spectres in its gloom I see―― For hope, fond hope, looks thro’ the night, And finds beyond its worlds of light. 2.