"Why the Dog's Nose Is Always Cold."

HAT makes the dog's nose always cold?"

I'll try to tell you, curls of gold,

If you will good and quiet be,

And come and stand by mamma's knee.
Well, years, and years, and years ago—
How many 1 don't really know-
There came a rain on sea and shore;
Its like was never seen before
Or since. It fell unceasing down,
Till all the world began to drown.
But just before it began to pour,
An old, old man-his name was Noah-
Built him an ark, that he might save

His fam'ly from a wat'ry grave;

And in it also he designed

To shelter two of every kind

Of beast. Well, dear, when it was done,

And heavy clouds obscured the sun,

The Noah folks to it quickly ran,

And then the animals began

To gravely march along in pairs;

The leopards, tigers, wolves, and bears,

The deer, the hippopotamuses,
The rabbits, squirrels, elks, walrusses,

The camels, goats, cats and donkeys,

The tall giraffes, the beavers, monkeys,

The rats, the big rhinoceroses,

The dromedaries and the horses,

The sheep, and mice, the kangaroos,

Hyenas, elephants, koodoos,

And hundreds more-'twould take all day,

My dear, so many names to say

And at the very, very end

Of the procession, by his friend
And master, faithful dog was seen;
The livelong time he'd helping been
To drive the crowd of creatures in,
And now, with loud, exultant bark,
He gaily sprang abroad the Ark.
Alas! so crowded was the space

He could not in it find a place;

So, patiently he turned about—
Stood half way in and half way out.
And those extremely heavy show'rs
Decended through nine hundred hours
And more; and, darling, at the close,
Most frozen was his honest nose;
And never could it lose again
The dampness of that dreadful rain,
And that is what, my curls of gold,
Made all the doggies' noses cold!

Dick's Watch.

EAR little Dick, curled up by the fire,

Sat watching the shadows come and go, As the dancing flames leaped higher and higher, Flooding the room with a mellow glow.

His chubby hand on his side was pressed, And he turned for a moment a listening ear; "Mother," cried he, "I've got a watch!

I can feel it ticking right under here!"

"Yes, Dick, 'tis a watch that God has made,
To mark your hours as they fly away;
He holds the key in His mighty hand,
And keeps it in order night and day.

"Should He put aside its mystic key,

Or lay His hand on the tiny spring, The wheels would stop and your watch run down, And lie in your bosom a lifeless thing-"

He crept to my side and whispered soft,

While his baby voice had an awe-struck sound, "I wish you would ask Him, mother dear,

To be sure and remember to keep it wound!

The Last Hour.

HE long day dies with sunset down the west; Comes the young moon through violet fields of air; A fragrance finer than the south winds bear Breathes from the sea-the time is come for rest. I wait. Birds nestward fly through deepening blue. O heart! Take comfort, peace will find thee too. For lo! between the lights, when shadows wane, Heart calls to heart across the widening breach Of bitter thought, chill touch, and jarring speech And Love cries out to take his own again.

Give me the kiss of peace.

Hold not your anger after the spent sun.
Lo! I have wrought with sorrow all the day,
With tear-wet cypress, and with bitter bay
Bound all my doors. No thread of song has run
Beside my thought to lighten it for me.

Rise up, and with forgiveness set me free.
For who may boast a gift of lengthened breath?
And, lest you watch to-morrow's sun arise
Across my face, new-touched with sudden death
And the mute pathos of unanswering eyes,
Turn not aside my hand outstretched, or smite
The yearning heart. Let Love's repentance found
All life is mixed with Fate.

Have Love's reward.

And, O beloved! Death's angel will not wait

For summoned feet to haste on anxious round With quick "Forgive, forgive, we pass to-night!" All day Regret has walked and talked with me, And, lest to-morrow it should go with thee, Give me the kiss of peace.

Good and Better.

FATHER sat by the chimney-post,
On a winter's day, enjoying a roast.
By his side a maiden young and fair,
A girl with a wealth of golden hair;
And she teases the father, stern and cold,
With a question of duty trite and old;
"Say, father, what shall a maiden do

When a man of merit comes to woo?

And, father, what of this pain in my breast?
Married or single-which is the best?"

Then the sire of the maiden young and fair,

The girl of the wealth of golden hair,
He answers as ever do fathers cold,
To the question of duty trite and old:
"She who weddeth keeps God's letter;
She who weds not, doeth better."