Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Nobody knows but my mate and I Where our nest and our nestlings lie. Chee, chee, chee. Summer wanes; the children are grown; Fun and frolic no more he knows; Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone; Off he flies, and we sing as he goes: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; When you can pipe that merry old strain, Robert of Lincoln, come back again. Chee, chee, chee. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. Riggity-rig, Dance a jig, Dance a Highland Fling; Dance a Cake-walk, Give us o Clog, Or cut a Pigeon's Wing. U. S. SPELLS US. My papa's all dressed up to-day; He never looked so fine; I thought when I first looked at him My papa wasn't mine. He's got a beautiful new suit The old one was so old-- It's blue, with buttons, oh, so bright, I guess they must be gold. And papa's sort o' glad and sort O' sad--I wonder why; And ev'ry time she looks at him It makes my mamma cry. Who's Uncle Sam? My papa says That he belongs to him; But papa's joking, 'cause he knows My uncle's name is Jim. My papa just belongs to me And mamma. And I guess The folks are blind who cannot see His buttons marked U. S. U. S. spells Us. He's ours--and yet My mamma can't help cry, And papa tries to smile at me And can't--I wonder why. ANON. A dancing Bear came down the street; The children all ran to see the treat; Said the keeper: "Now, boys, come pay for your fun; Give me a penny to buy Bruin a bun." "DIXIE" AND "YANKEE DOODLE." I was born 'way down in "Dixie," Reared beneath the Southern skies, And they didn't have to teach me Every "Yankee" to despise. I was but a country youngster When I donned a suit of gray, When I shouldered my old musket, And marched forth the "Yanks" to slay. Four long years I fought and suffered, "Dixie" was my battle cry; "Dixie" always and forever, Down in "Dixie" let me die. And to-night I'm down in "Dixie," "Dixie" still so grand and true; But to-night I am appareled In a uniform of blue. And to-night the band is playing; 'Tis not "Dixie's" strains I hear, But the strains of "Yankee Doodle" Ring out strong and clear. Long I listen to the music; By my side a comrade stands; He's a "Yank" and I'm a "Rebel," But we grasp each other's hands. Here together we united 'Way down South in "Dixie" stand, And my comrade whispers softly, "There's no land like 'Dixie's land.'" But my eyes are filled with teardrops, Tears that make my heart feel glad; And I whisper to my comrade: "'Yankee Doodle' ain't so bad." LAWRENCE PORCHER HEXT.