Ho! the great monster, the Sea! Rushing and raging about, Lashing his tail,—he must be Hungry and frantic, no doubt! Oh, should he open his lips,— Woe to the beautiful ships! Beautiful ships, keep away From the great monster to-day! Ho! the wild creature—the Sea! Hungry and fierce he must be! II. Lo! the great monster, asleep, Lying so quietly there! Hear his low breathings so deep! See the wind waving his hair! Ho, little children, come near— Come now and see him!—Don’t fear. Touch his soft mane in your play,— He will not harm you to-day. Lo! the huge creature asleep— Breathing so low and so deep! [Illustration] A SAD CASE. BY MARGARET VANDEGRIFT. [Illustration] Miss Dorothea Dimpleton, whenever she went out, Held in her neatly mittened hand a silken reticule; When she went to shop, to market, or to visit all about, She carried it, as if upon her way to sewing-school. ’Twas always full, and yet her dearest friends had never heard What ’twas full of, so they all agreed her conduct was absurd. Miss Dorothea Dimpleton had early learned to sew; She could hem, and fell, and overseam, could gather and could gore; And she said, “This is an art that every woman ought to know, But, alas! my sex disdains to learn the useful any more! Yet I will not be discouraged; I will do my small endeavor, And perchance I may prevent the art from being lost forever!” So she filled with pretty “hussifs”[1] her ample reticule, Each stocked with thimble, needlecase, and scissors, all complete, And she stopped the little maidens on their way from morning school, And to each of them she kindly gave a “hussif” fresh and neat, And the little maids said, “Thank you, Ma’am!” and curtseyed to the ground, And then went and hid the “hussifs” where they seldom could be found. Miss Dorothea Dimpleton felt very sure, at last, That every little girl in town was sewing with a will; And it was not till at least a year of feeling sure was past, That she heard a truth so dreadful that it really made her ill: Of all those lovely “hussifs” she had given in the place, There had not been a needle in one single needle-case! But that, you know, was years ago, before it had been said, “Be sure you’re right, and” (please observe the “then”) “_then_ go ahead!” [1] “Hussif” (a contracted form of the word “house-wife”)was formerly used as a name for a little bag or case for holding sewing materials. A LITTLE SEAMSTRESS. BY MARY E. WILKINS. She sat in her little rocking-chair, a-sighing and twirling her thumbs: “Oh, everything for my doll is done, and never to mending comes! I haven’t a morsel of sewing!—Dear Mother, in all the town, Can’t you find me one doll, no matter how small, who will wear out her gown?” LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.