SLEEPING in the sunshine, Fie, fie, fie! While the birds are soaring High, high, high! While the buds are opening sweet, And the blossoms at your feet Look a smiling face to greet. Fie, fie, fie! Sleeping in the sunshine, Fie, fie, fie! While the bee goes humming By, by, by! Is there no small task for you,-- Nought for little hands to do? Shame to sleep the morning through! Fie, fie, fie! RAMBLES IN THE WOODS. RACHEL has been used to a life in the city, but she is now on a visit to her uncle's in the country; and she has fine times rambling through the woods and fields. Her cousin Paul takes her to pick berries, and tells her the names of the things she sees. "Smell of these leaves," Paul will say, breaking a twig from a shrub, somewhat like a huckleberry-bush, and crushing the leaves in his hand. "This is the bayberry-shrub. How fragrant the leaves are! It bears a berry with a gray wax-like coating; and in Nova Scotia this wax is much used instead of tallow, or mixed with tallow, to make candles." "But what is this little red berry on the ground?" asked Rachel once when they were on one of their rambles. "It has a dark glossy leaf; and I like the taste and the smell of it very much." "That is the checkerberry," said Paul. "Some people call it the boxberry; and some call it wintergreen. It has a flavor like that of the black birch. It is used to scent soap, and sometimes to flavor candy. It is an evergreen plant." "What do you mean by an evergreen?" asked Rachel. "I mean, it is green the whole year round: it does not dry up and fall off, like the leaves of the strawberry-plant," said Paul. "What other sweet-smelling plants are there about here?" asked Rachel. "Did you ever taste the bark of the sassafras-tree?" asked Paul. "If not, here is one; and I will break off a twig for you to chew. The color of the inner bark, near the root, is red, like cinnamon. A beer is made from it; and it is also used in soaps." [Illustration: RAMBLES IN THE WOODS.] "I like the odor of it very much," said Rachel. "Here is a black-birch tree," cried Paul. "Some people call it the sweet-birch. I will cut off a piece of the bark for you to taste." "Why, it tastes like checkerberry-leaves," said Rachel. "Yes," replied Paul. "It is a beautiful tree, and is good for fuel. But here is a white-birch. See how white the bark is! It grows on poor land, and is a very pretty tree when well taken care of." Here there was the sound of a horn; and Rachel asked, "What is the meaning of that sound?" "It means that we must run home to dinner," said Paul. "So give me your hand, Cousin Rachel. You need not be afraid of snakes. There are none here that can do any harm. Come, we will make a short cut through the grove to the house." UNCLE CHARLES. [Illustration]