I dare say you know by this time that I am talking about a sea-gull,--one of those birds which fly in such numbers about the seacoasts. My little boy wished he could fly like a gull, but thought it wouldn't be wise to be always hungry for a fish-dinner, as those who study their habits say sea-gulls always are. MRS. G. I. HOPKINS. [Illustration] THE CRICKETS' SOCIABLE. [Illustration] EACH cricket was invited, 'twas after twelve at night; The fire was burning brightly, and not a puss in sight, When out popped twenty couples, all chirping loud and clear: The moon peeped in the window, as if it paused to hear. The band stood on a table,--a fiddle and a harp; The former was a trifle flat, the latter rather sharp: But, oh the jolly dancing, the capers queer and gay! Why, pigeon-wings were nothing, and double-shuffles, play. The belles reclined in corners, and chatted to the beaux, Who looked so neat and graceful, each turning out his toes; And all the daddy-crickets were happy as could be, Their little baby-crickets they dandled on their knee. A Daddy Longlegs handed a lady out to dance,-- 'Twas said he was a baron,--quite modest was her glance; He kissed her hand politely, his style they all admired; He bowed to her sedately; she courtesied and retired. A dozen tiny crickets then tried a minuet, And many other dances whose names you would forget. The fiddler scraped up louder, a mouse peeped out to see; But laughed his head off nearly to mark such jollity! The supper, oh, that supper! From brimming cups of dew They sipped, and luscious goodies were spread out,--not a few. They handed round in slices a dainty Christmas cake That very much resembled a tiny snowy flake. They didn't stop till morning; they heard a rooster crow, And then the merry fiddler put away his bow; And twenty jolly couples with weary legs retire As Bridget pops in lively to make the kitchen-fire. GEORGE COOPER. [Illustration] [Illustration] SO TIRED! NELLY was a bright, happy little girl. Her home was in the country; and in summer, as soon as the birds began to sing, her eyes were wide open, and she was ready to jump and play and sing too. Then, as soon as she was nicely bathed and dressed, and her curly hair tied with a pretty ribbon, away she would go out of doors, to gather flowers, or feed the chickens, or play with the kitten. After breakfast she would go into the field where the hay was making, and help with her own little rake to toss and spread it. But at eleven o'clock her mother would call her in, put on her cool night-dress, and lay her in her crib for a nap, and by that time the little girl was usually tired enough to be glad to go to sleep.