Happy Days for Boys and Girls. Various

frost looked forth one still clear night,

      And whispered, “Now I shall be out of sight;

      So through the valley and over the height

      In silence I’ll take my way:

      I will not go on like that blustering train,

      The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,

      Who make so much bustle and noise in vain,

      But I’ll be as busy as they.”

      Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest;

      He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed

      In diamond beads; and over the breast

      Of the quivering lake he spread

      A coat of mail, that it need not fear

      The downward point of many a spear

      That he hung on its margin, far and near,

      Where a rock could rear its head.

      He went to the windows of those who slept,

      And over each pane like a fairy crept:

      Wherever he breathed, wherever he stept,

      By the light of the moon were seen

      Most beautiful things: there were flowers and trees;

      There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees;

      There were cities with temples and towers, and these

      All pictured in silver sheen!

      But he did one thing that was hardly fair:

      He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there

      That all had forgotten for him to prepare —

      “Now, just to set them a-thinking,

      I’ll bite this basket of fruit,” said he,

      “This costly pitcher I’ll burst in three,

      And the glass of water they’ve left for me

      Shall ‘tchick!’ to tell them I’m drinking.”

      MY PICTURE

      I HAVE a little picture;

      Perchance you have one too.

      Mine is not set in frame of gold;

      ’Tis first a bit of blue,

      And then a background of dark hills —

      A river just below,

      Along whose broad, green meadow banks

      The wreathing elm trees grow.

      Upon an overhanging ridge

      A little farm-house stands,

      Whose owner, like the man of old,

      Has builded “on the sands;”

      And yet, defying storms and wind,

      It stands there all alone,

      And brightens up the landscape

      With a beauty of its own.

      Fairy-like my picture changes

      As the seasons come and go.

      Now it glows ’neath summer’s kisses;

      Now it sleeps ’mid winter’s snow.

      I can see the breath of spring-time

      In the river’s deeper blue,

      And autumn seems to crown it

      With her very brightest hue.

      Ah. I’d not exchange my picture

      For the choicest gem of art;

      Yet I must not claim it wholly;

      It is only mine in part;

      For ’tis one of nature’s sketches —

      A waif from that Great Hand

      Which hath filled our earth with models

      Of the beautiful and grand.

      WHY?

      WHY are the blossoms

      Such different hues?

      And the waves of the sea

      Such a number of blues?

      So many soft greens

      Flit over the trees?

      And little gray shadows

      Fly out on the breeze?

      Why are the insects

      So wondrously fair;

      Illumining grasses

      And painting the air?

      You dear little shells,

      O, why do you shine?

      And feathery sea-weed

      Grow fragile and fine?

      Why are the meadows

      Such gardens of grace,

      With infinite beauty

      In definite space?

      Each separate grass

      A world of delight?

      O, food for the cattle,

      Why are you so bright?

      Why are our faces

      Such lovable things,

      With lips made for kisses,

      And laughter that sings?

      With eyes full of love,

      That sparkle and gleam,

      Through beautiful colors,

      That change like a dream?

      Think for a moment —

      Look up to the sky;

      Question your heart; it

      Will answer the Why!

      Bright is the glitter

      Of beauty unfurled —

      Boundless the love that

      Has fashioned the world!

      BIRDS

      THE wisdom of God is seen in every part of creation, and especially in the different kinds of birds. The beauty displayed in their graceful forms and varied colors strikes every beholder, while the adaptation of their organs for the purposes of flight, their peculiar habits and modes of living, are a constant source of admiration to the student of nature.

      Almost everything about the shape of a bird fits it for moving rapidly in the air, and all parts of its body are arranged so as to give it lightness along with strength. The soft and delicate plumage of birds protects them from cold or moisture; their wings, though so delicate, are furnished with muscles of such power as to strike the air with great force, whilst their tails act like the rudder of a ship, so that they can direct their course at pleasure with the utmost ease.

      The internal structure of a bird also is such as to help it to sustain itself in, and to fly quickly through, the air. Its lungs are pierced with large holes, which allow air to pass into cavities in the breast, and even into the interior of the bones. It is thus not only rendered buoyant, but is enabled to breathe even while in rapid motion. Two sparrows, it is said, require as much air to maintain their breathing properly as a guinea pig.

      In many other ways the skill and goodness of God are seen in the “fowl of the air.” Their necks and beaks are long, and very movable, so that they may readily pick up food and other objects from the ground. The muscles of their toes are so arranged that the simple weight of the body closes them, and they are able, in consequence, to sit on a perch a long time without fatigue. Even in a violent wind a bird