[Illustration]

  They took the grandame’s blanket,
  Who shivered and bade them go;
  They took the baby’s pillow,
  Who could not say them no;
  And they heaped a great fire on the pier,
  And knew not all the while
  If they were heaping a bonfire,
  Or only a funeral pile.

  And fed with precious food, the flame
  Shone bravely on the black,
  Till a cry rang through the people,
  “A boat is coming back!”
  Staggering dimly through the fog,
  Come shapes of fear and doubt,
  But when the first prow strikes the pier,
  Cannot you hear them shout?

  Then all along the breadth of flame
  Dark figures shrieked and ran,
  With “Child, here comes your father!”
  Or, “Wife, is this your man?”
  And faint feet touch the welcome stone,
  And wait a little while;
  And kisses drop from frozen lips,
  Too tired to speak or smile.

  So, one by one they struggled in,
  All that the sea would spare;
  We will not reckon through our tears
  The names that were not there;
  But some went home without a bed,
  When all the tale was told,
  Who were too cold with sorrow
  To know the night was cold.

Author of poem written for a child.

[Illustration]

Agrippa.

This is the picture of a kit-ten who lived once at a farm-house.  He was such a pret-ty lit-tle cat as to be made a great pet and used to trot a-bout af-ter the peo-ple like a lit-tle dog.  His name was A-grip-pa and he knew it quite well.

To this farm-house came a boy and girl named Ned and Lau-ra, to spend the sum-mer.  Both were fond of pets and both played so much with A-grip-pa that he grew rath-er la-zy and did not try to catch ma-ny mice.

Ned and Lau-ra were ver-y good friends, but it happened now and then that both want-ed the same thing and then, sad to say, some loud words might be heard.  Ned would say, “Give me Grip-pa,” and Lau-ra would an-swer, “You shan’t have Grip-pa!” and Ned would say a-gain, “I will have Grip-pa,” and so it would go on till some-times poor Grip-pa would run a-way.  But they al-ways made up and were friends a-gain.

Grip-pa grew up a large, fine cat, and lived some years.  But he was at length taken ill.  He came no more to the house, but stayed in the barn and grew ver-y weak, till he could hard-ly walk.  At last, one day he came walk-ing fee-bly to the house.  He went in-to the kitch-en, then to the pan-try, then to the din-ing room.  In-to all the rooms went Grip-pa, and in each room sat down and looked a-round, as if tak-ing a last fare-well; then slow-ly walked out of doors.  It was in-deed his last vis-it.  Next morn-ing poor Grip-pa was found dead.

[Illustration]

Frank’s boy.

Frank More had been out skat-ing near-ly the whole af-ter-noon, for there was no school this week, and the ice was in fine or-der.  It was al-most dark, and he was go-ing home, skates in hand, when a poor boy a-bout as large as him-self came up and be-gan to beg from him.