FAITH.

BY MRS. E.R.B.  WALDO.

   Upon the peaceful breast of Faith
     My troubled soul hath found repose,
   Free from the sad and starless gloom
     That doubting scepticism knows.

   Though disappointment, care, and pain,
     Have bent my heart to their decree,
   One thought hath ever led me on,
     It is, that it was so to be.

   Oft would my weary spirit faint,
     My heart yield almost to despair,
   Did not “a still small voice” exclaim,
     “There is no change, but God is there.”

   That mighty power which points the shaft,
     And forms the spirit to endure,
   Will, in its own peculiar way
     And time, perform the wondrous cure.

   Still may my soul, through faith, rely
     Upon the promises of God;
   His mercy see in every change,
     And learn to bless his chastening rod.

THE SNOW-BIRDS.

A DIALOGUE.

BY MRS. C. HIGHBORN.

Clarissa.  Pray, Mary, what are you going to do with those crumbs which you hold in your hand?

Mary.  I am going to feed my snow-birds with them; and I should be very happy to have you go with me.  I know you will enjoy seeing how merrily they hop about and flutter their wings, and seem to chirp out their thanks as they pick up the food I throw them.

C.  Thank you for your invitation; but I beg you will excuse me; it may be pretty sport for you, but, for my part, I can enjoy myself much better to stay here and arrange my baby-things, for I expect some girls to see me this afternoon.  I cannot conceive what there is in those ugly-looking snow-birds to interest you; they are not handsome, surely; they have not a single bright feather; and, as for their songs, they sound like the squeak of a sick chicken.

M.  I am sorry to hear you speak so of my favorites; for, though they are not so brilliant in their colors as many that flutter around us in the summer, yet to me they tire dearer than any others, and far more beautiful than those of a gaudier hue.

C.  Well, you have a queer taste, I must confess; you remind me of the philosopher I read of in the story-book, who thought a toad the most beautiful of God’s creatures.  Come, perhaps you can show me why they are entitled to your regard, and point out their beauties.

M.  I will cheerfully comply with your request, for nothing gives me more pleasure than to speak of the good qualities of my friends.  Examine them for a moment and see how exquisitely they are formed, and, though not gaudy in their colors, yet their feathers are soft and glossy.  But these are trifles comparatively; what most endears them to me is their constancy.

C. That is a new idea, indeed.  Constancy in snow-birds!  Please explain yourself, Mary.