For the loss of peace I have ceased to care; Like other vassals I've learned, forsooth, To love the wretch who forgot his hair

And hurried along without a tooth; And he rules me too with his tiny hand, This bald-headed tyrant from No-man's-land.

A HINT.

OUR Daisy lay down
In her little nightgown,
And kissed me again and again,
On forehead and cheek,

On lips that would speak,

But found themselves shut to their gain.

Then foolish, absurd,

To utter a word,

I asked her the question so old,

That wife and that lover

Ask over and over,

As if they were surer when told.

There, close at her side,

"Do you love me?" I cried;

She lifted her golden-crowned head,
A puzzled surprise

Shone in her gray eyes

"Why, that's why I kiss you!" she said.

OUR DARLING.

BOUNDING like a football,
Kicking at the door;
Falling from the table-top,
Sprawling on the floor;
Smashing cups and saucers,

Splitting dolly's head;

Putting little pussy cat
Into baby's bed;

Building shops and houses,

Spoiling father's hat;

Hiding mother's precious keys

Underneath the mat;

Jumping on the fender,
Poking at the fire;
Dancing on his little legs, -
Legs that never tire;
Making mother's heart leap
Fifty times a day;
Aping everything we do,

Every word we say;
Shouting, laughing, tumbling,

Roaring with a will,
Anywhere and everywhere,
Never, never still;

Present- bringing sunshine;
Absent leaving night;
That's our precious darling,
That's our heart's delight.

THE NEW BABY.

I'SE a poor little sorrowful baby,
For Bidget is way down tairs,
The titten has statched my finder,
And dolly won't say her payers.
Ain't seen my bootiful mamma
Since ever so long adoe,
And I ain't her tunningest baby
No longer, for Bidget says so.

My mamma's dot a new baby;

Dod dived it, he did, yesterday; And it kies, and it kies, so defful, I wish he would tate it away. Don't want no sweet little sister, I want my dood mamma, I do, I want her to tis me, and tis me, And tall me her pessus Lulu.

Oh, here tums nurse wis the baby!
It sees me yite out of its eyes;
I dess we will keep it, and dive it
Some tandy whenever it kies;
I dess I will dive it my dolly

To play wis 'most every day;
And I dess, I dess—say, Bidget,
Ask Dod not to tate it away.

WASHING-DAY.

WHILE mother is tending baby
We'll help her all we can;
For I'm her little toddlekins,
And you're her little man.
And Nell will bring the basket,
For she's the biggest daughter,
And I'll keep rubbing, rubbing,
And you'll pour in the water.
And now we'll have to hurry,
Because it's getting late;
Poor dolly is n't dressed yet,
But dolly 'll have to wait.
I'll pour, and you can rub 'em,
Whichever you had rather;
But seems to me, if I keep on,
We'll get a quicker lather.
Maybe when mother sees us
Taking so much troubles,
She'll let us put our pipes in

And blow it full of bubbles.
But now we 'll have to hurry,
Because it's getting late;
And dolly is n't dressed yet,
But dolly 'll have to wait.

Hearth and Home.

BABY'S LETTER.

DEAR ole untle, I dot oor letter:
My ole mammy, she ditten better.
She every day little bit stronger,

Don't mean to be sick berry much longer.

Daddy's so fat, can't hardly stagger;
Mammy says he jinks too much lager.
Dear little baby had a bad colic,

Had to take tree drops nassy paleygolic.

Toot a dose of tatnip, felt worse as ever.
Sha'n't take no more tatnip, never!
Wind on stomit, felt pooty bad,
Worse fit of sickness ever I had!

Ever had belly-ate, ole untle Bill?
'Tain't no fun now, say what oo will.
I used to sleep all day and cry all night;
Don't do so now, 'cause 't ain't yite.

But I'm growin', gettin' pooty fat,

Gains 'most two pounds, only tink o' dat!
Little flannen blankets was too big before,
Nurse can't pin me in 'em no more.

Skirts so small, baby so stout,

Had to let the plaits in 'em all out.
Got a head of hair jes' as black as nite;
And big boo eyes, yat ook mighty bite.

My mammy says, never did see
Any ozzer baby half as sweet as me.
Grandma comes often, Aunt Sarah too;
Baby loves yem, baby loves oo.

Baby sends a pooty kiss to his untles all,
Aunties and cousins, big folks and small.
Can't yite no more, so dood-by,

Bully ole untle with a glass eye.

MY LOST BABY.

COMES little Maud and stands by my knee,
Her soft eyes filled with a troubled joy;
And her wondering heart is perplexed to see
Her babyhood lost in our baby boy.

For Maud was a babe but a week ago,-
A gentle, lovable, clinging thing;

Now we are saddened but pleased to know

The queen is dethroned and there reigns a king, —

A tiny king, with a cheek like down;
With dark, indefinite-colored eyes;

With hair of the softest satiny brown;

Who doubles his fists and hiccoughs and cries;

Who groans, grimaces, and paws the air,

And twists his mouth in a meaningless smile;

Who fixes his eyes in a winkless stare.

And seems in the deepest thought the while;

A wee small king with a comical face,

Whom one moment we laugh at, the next caress;

A little monarch who holds his place

By the wondrous might of his helplessness.

Come hither, my Maud, with your wistful eyes; Come hither, I'll lay the small tyrant down; I'll gather you up in a glad surprise,

And press to my bosom your head of brown.

Nestle down close to your mother's breast,
Poor little babe of a week gone by;
Find for a moment a haven of rest,
Clasping my neck with a satisfied sigh.

Alas! I have lost her, she is no more
The baby girl that I loved to press
Close to my heart; she's a woman before
This animate atom of helplessness.

My heart is sad for my girl to-day;

In a moment babyhood's privileged years Have passed from her life forever away, We see them vanish through misty tears.

Farewell, sweet babe of a week agone!

Thou hast reached the land of the nevermore, And Maud's little feet are standing on The perilous heights of childhood's shore.

A BABY'S RATTLE.

I.

ONLY a baby's rattle,

And yet if you offered me gold
More than my heart could dream of,
Or jewels my hand could hold,

For that worthless toy, I should answer,
You cannot buy the tears

Of love and joy, the remembrance
Of all that it means for all years.

The old associations

Of the years that have waned and fled

Lie there with the childish token

That was clasped by a hand that is dead.

And beyond all earthly treasures
That prowess or brain could win,
I prize that worn old plaything
For the memories shrined therein.