“What makes your forehead so smooth and high?”
    “A soft hand stroked it as I went by.” 
    “What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?”
    “Something better than any one knows.”

    “Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?”
    “Three angels gave me at once a kiss.” 
    “Where did you get that pearly ear?”
    “God spoke, and it came out to hear.”

    “Where did you get those arms and hands?”
    “Love made itself into hooks and bands.” 
    “Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?”
    “From the same body as the cherubs’ wings.”

    “How did they all just come to be you?”
    “God thought about me, and so I grew.” 
    “But how did you come to us, my dear?”
    “God thought of you, and so I am here.”

George MACDONALD.

[Illustration:  “Where did you come from?”]

DEAR LITTLE BROWN-EYED BESS.

A True Experience of Child-life.

    I was working in my garden one day in the end of June,
    The sun shone high in the clear blue sky, and the clock had just
        struck noon;
    I mused o’er my earliest childhood—­my earliest friends, and lo,
    There rose up the picture of a child in the dear dim Long-ago: 
    She holds in her arms a puppy, and smilingly shows it to me,
    Her cheeks they are rosy and chubby, all dimpled with baby glee;
    Her hair is dark and wavy, her brown eyes full of fun,
    And she wears a blue straw bonnet to shelter from the sun.

    She gathers daisies and kingcups till her pockets are more than
        full,
    And dreams of the far-away city where she soon must go to school;
    Her home it is rustic and lonely in the land of the river Ness,
    But she loves her rural dwelling, does dear little brown-eyed Bess. 
    One time—­ah! how well I remember, it seems like yesterday,
    Dear Bessie came to visit me, just nine years past last May: 
    Beneath the hawthorn blossoms, hearts full of childish bliss,
    We vowed eternal friendship, and sealed it with a kiss;
    And I plucked a bright pink rosebud to fasten in her dress—­
    She was six years old that summer, was dear little brown-eyed Bess.

    I remember very little of all she said to me,
    But I know we loved each other with childish love and free;
    I remember romping gaily around some little ricks,
    And fondly giving Bessie a tiny box of bricks;
    I remember our long, long parting one autumn afternoon,
    And Bessie softly whispering, “Come back and see me soon.” 
    But alas! some wicked fairy was present with us then,
    For during the days of childhood we never met again.