THE SANDMAN.

     The Sandman comes at set of sun,
     Just when the happy day is done,
     And when the quiet night’s begun.

     You hear him softly, softly creep,
     And if you turn around to peep
     He throws the sand that makes you sleep!

     But don’t be frightened—­he is kind: 
     His sand will never make you blind,
     But only close your eyes, you’ll find.

     He’s like a dear and gentle friend: 
     His pleasant task it is to send
     Sweet dreams to follow playtime’s end.

     I’ve stayed up late, and tried to see
     The Sandman passing close to me—­
     I’ve been as still as still could be.

     But he is quicker than a wink! 
     He didn’t give me time to think,
     But made me yawn and stretch and blink.

     He buried me so deep in sand
     I dropped right into Slumberland—­
     Though how I cannot understand!

—­Written for Dew Drops by Rose Ralph.

The Eastern Mail

By may G. Mooar

For a long time Teddy had wanted a cart, and when his seventh birthday came, there by the back door stood the “Eastern Mail” with a birthday letter from grandpa on the seat: 

“Dear Teddy,” it said, “I know you’ve wanted a cart for a long time so I hope you will like my birthday present.  Have a good time with it, and give somebody else a good time with it, too.”

     “Your loving,
     “Grandpa.”

Teddy played nearly all day with his new present, and for a week he cared for very little else.  One day he raced up the walk, dragging his cart behind him, and dropped down on the piazza steps near where mother was sitting.

“That’s a dandy cart, mother,” he exclaimed.  “Jack Hoyt says it’s the best one on the street.  It’s awfully strong, and it can go just as fast as anything.  I tell you grandpa got a great bargain when he got the Eastern Mail.”

[Illustration:  Teddy played nearly every day with his cart.]

“Then you’re doing just what grandpa wrote you to do with the cart?” mother asked.

“What’s that?  Have a good time with it?” Teddy answered.  “I guess I am.  I just wish grandpa could see how many miles that cart goes a day.”

“But grandpa wanted you to do something else with it, too,” mother added.  “Do you remember about that?”

“No, I don’t,” Teddy replied slowly.  Then after a minute’s thought he exclaimed, “Oh!  He said to give somebody else a good time, too, didn’t he, mother?”

Mother nodded.

“But I don’t see how I can give anybody else a good time with it except Mary and Ned, for all the boys have either a cart or a bicycle or something, so they don’t care about playing with mine.”

“Well, dear, keep watch and see what else you can do.  There may be some chances to make somebody else happy.  Will you take this jelly over to old Mrs. Atwood, now?  She’s been sick again.”