EMBLEM of purity, gracefully lifting Petals of beauty 'mid wintry snows drifting; Brave little snow-drop, so fair and so hardy, First flower to welcome the spring chill and tardy,-- Frost cannot wither thee, cold cannot frighten, Patiently tarrying till skies may brighten; Snow-piercer, cloud-gazer, wind-scorner, eye-cheerer, Bring to my heart thy dear message yet nearer. When age or sorrow is darkly impending, Snows of adversity thickly descending, Then, springing out of them, checked by no blasting, Let there bloom thoughts of the life everlasting. Coming, like snow-drops, amid our endurance, Bringing to each weary heart the assurance, To joy's frozen waste spring draws nigher and nigher, And death is the way to life higher and higher. EPES SARGENT. [Illustration] TURTLES. ALMOST every one thinks of turtles as exceedingly slow and stupid. Perhaps they may be rather slow, though you know who won the race in the fable of the turtle and the hare. As for their stupidity, I doubt whether they are so very stupid, for I once had one that seemed to me very bright. When I put him on the floor or ground, he would stay quite still, and draw in his head and legs, until I turned away, or busied myself with something else; then he would make off as fast as his little legs would carry him. I once lost one in that way: so, now that I know their tricks, I am more careful. But certainly that turtle must have had some sense to be able to tell when my back was turned, or even when I was not looking. Their habits are quite peculiar. In summer they stay in the water most of the time, coming out only now and then to sun themselves on some log or branch. In the winter they bury themselves in the mud, or remain in a torpid state. When spring comes, they lay their eggs. They live chiefly on bugs; but I have heard of one living a whole year without any thing to eat. They are very patient, and I have seen one try for hours to get over a wall that one would think he could never get over; and yet he would succeed. I have a turtle now that will have a funny story to tell his friends, if he ever reaches his native home again. This is it: I once took him to school with me, and left him in a box, with the cover half open, on a table in the dressing-room. In about an hour I heard a suppressed laugh from one of the girls, and, looking up, I saw Mr. Turtle calmly walking into school. He wanted to learn something as well as the rest of us. LITTLE CHICK. RATHER BASHFUL! UNDER this great sunbonnet Is hid a pretty face, Belonging to a little girl Whose name, they say, is Grace. She is a merry little girl, As good as good can be; But she is rather bashful, As any one may see. W. FEEDING THE SWANS IN WINTER.