"Bravo, good Trim!" They welcome him, And clasp him round for joy; Then homeward bear, with tender care, The pale, half-conscious boy. O faithful Trim! "Would I sell him?" Inquired a curious elf: "What, sell," I cried, "a friend so tried! I'd rather sell myself." GEO. BENNETT. [Illustration] PERILS OF THE SEA. EDWIN had a present of a ship, sent to him from England; and he named it, after the giver, "The Uncle George." It was a splendid ship. It had three masts, as a ship ought to have, and was rigged in complete style. One fine day last month, Edwin took his ship down to the Frog Pond on Boston Common, and set her afloat. On the opposite side of the pond he saw four boys sailing their boats, and a tall boy carrying a sloop, and followed by his small brother. A sloop, you know, has but one mast. None of these boys had a ship with three masts, like "The Uncle George." Edwin felt a little proud when he saw his good ship catch the wind in her sails, and go plunging up and down over the pond. But, dear me, think of the risks of ship-owners! Consider, too, that Edwin's ship was not insured. What, then, was his dismay, when, as she got into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean (for so Edwin called the pond), a flaw of wind threw her on her beam-ends, and sent her masts down under water till she foundered, sank, and disappeared. There was a shout from the owners of vessels on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. "What a pity!" exclaimed the boy with a dog. "What's her name?" asked the tall boy. "The Uncle George!" shouted back Edwin. "Any insurance on her?" inquired a boy waving his hat. "What do you mean by insurance?" asked Edwin. "Go and look in your dictionary," said the boy with his hat off. Then the tall boy repeated these lines:-- "A land-breeze shook her shrouds, and she was overset; Down went 'The Royal George' with all her crew complete." [Illustration: PERILS OF THE SEA.] Edwin was half disposed to cry; but then he thought that crying was no way to get out of trouble. He took a survey of the Atlantic Ocean, and wondered how deep it was where his ship wend down. Then taking off his shoes and stockings, and rolling up his pantaloons, he waded in, and succeeded, with the aid of a long stick, in saving "The Uncle George." "Hurrah! Well done, little one!" shouted a boy on the other side. The tall boy again launched into poetry, and cried out,-- "Weigh the vessel up, once dreaded by our foes! Her timbers yet are sound; and she may float again, Full charged with England's thunder, and plough the distant main." ALFRED SELWYN. IN HONOR OF ROSA'S BIRTHDAY [Illustration] _Charles._--Am I right madam? is not this Miss Rosa's birthday? _Mary._--Yes, sir. My little girl is two years old to-day.