Oft, with our little rakes at play, Making believe at making hay.

With grave and steadfast endeavor; Caught by an arm, and out of sight Hurled and hidden, and buried light In laughter and hay forever.

Now pa.s.s the hours of work and play With a step more slow, and the summer's day Grows short, and more cold the weather.

Calm is our work now, quiet our play, We take them apart as best we may, For they come no more together!

DORA GREENWELL.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {A COLLECTION OF LEAFY PLANTS.}]

WINDOW GARDENING.

Many a home, now dark and cheerless, might be made bright and cheery by a few plants in the window, or bunches of ferns and bright autumn leaves, fastened on the wall, or on the pictures.

Homes cannot be made too bright and home-like for the husband and the children; and these little things cost little or nothing, and add much to the general appearance.

A novel and pretty window ornament can be made in this way: Take a white sponge of large size, and sow it full of rice, oats and wheat.

Then place it, for a week or ten days, in a shallow dish, in which a little water is constantly kept, and as the sponge will absorb the moisture, the seeds will begin to sprout before many days. When this has fairly taken place, the sponge may be suspended by means of cords from a hook in the top of the window where a little sun will enter. It will thus become a ma.s.s of green, and can be kept wet by merely immersing it in a bowl of water.

"CHEER UP."

BY ANNA ELIZABETH C. KELLY.

"Oh, it is too bad; too bad! that mother should be so troubled for the want of a little money," said Mabel.

"Cheer up! Cheer up!" rang out a voice close at hand, "pretty Poll; cheer up!" and a bright green parrot with a yellow breast began to beat against the bars of his cage as if he would like to get out.

"That is a good omen, Polly," said Mabel, as she rose and opened the door of the cage, "but it is not Poll who ought to 'cheer up' but I, you pretty bird." Poll hopped out and perched upon her finger and looked so knowingly at her, that it almost broke down the resolution she had formed. Mabel was accustomed to take Poll out and talk to her, and brother Ben, who was an amateur photographer, had taken a picture of the pretty pair, so Polly was already immortalized.

"Poor Ben! Poor Ben!" said Polly. "'On Linden when the sun was low'--ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! Poor Ben! Poor Ben!" laughed and shouted Polly.

"Poor Ben, indeed!" said Mabel, "though the Ben you first heard about was another Ben, and used to break down with his recitation and be laughed at. I wonder where he is now, and whether he is dead, my brave soldier uncle! If he were alive, and should come back, what would he think to find another Polly just like the one he left behind, who had learned some of the things his Polly used to say. Mamma says your predecessor died of old age, Polly; I wonder if that will be your destiny. I shall never know; for I am going to sell you to the lady up at the hotel, who saw you hanging outside, and wanted you for her little girl. She said she would give me five dollars, and when I refused she offered me ten. I could not let you go, Polly, but now I _must_. I must say 'good-bye' to you now, Polly, for I shall never take you out of the cage again."

"Cheer up! cheer up!" sang Polly, as Mabel put her back, and closing the cage, left the room.

The boys were leaving the sitting-room when she went down stairs, and as Ben pa.s.sed her, she said, "Do not go to bed till I come up again. I want to speak to you. Wait in my room."

Mrs. Ross was getting ready to go up to her room when Mabel entered.

"Are you going up, mamma?" said she, "I will not keep you long; but I want to tell you, that I think I know a way for you to get some money.

I wish to keep it a secret for the present; but I think I can safely promise you some. The last thing before I came down, Polly called, 'cheer up, cheer up,' and it is a good omen; so I say the same to you, mamma."

"You are a good girl, Mabel, but I am afraid you are too sanguine. How can you hope to succeed where I have failed?"

"You will believe me when you see the money, shall you not, mamma?"

"There would not be much merit in that, dear, but I will _trust_ you, and whatever happens I will believe you did what you thought was right, and that G.o.d does every thing for the best."

"Thank you, mamma. Good night, and pleasant dreams."

"Good night, dear."

Mabel went softly up stairs. "Ben," said she, when she reached her room, but Ben had fallen asleep, and she had to shake him up.

"What kept you?" said Ben, in a sleepy tone.

"Why, I was not long, Ben. Do you now the name of that little girl who took such a fancy to Polly?"

"Yes," said Ben. "It is Eva Granby. What do you want to know for?"

"I shall tell you sometime, you are too sleepy to talk to-night, so I shall let you go. Good night, Ben."

"Good night," said Ben, not sorry to be dismissed.

Mabel lay awake some time. She was sorry to part with her parrot, but after all it was only a bird. Mamma and Ben and Walt and dear little Joe should not suffer that she might keep it.

She could hear the music, from the great hotel on the hill, borne on the breeze, and that, with the happy frame of mind produced by the approval of her conscience, soon had the effect of sending her into a sound sleep, from which she awoke in the morning, refreshed and quite happy. She went about her accustomed duties with a light heart and singing like a lark. Mrs. Ross wondered, to hear her; what could be the source of her high spirits.

She was on the alert for a chance to put her plan into execution, and when she found her mother occupied over the details of the breakfast table, she went up to her room, and covering the parrot's cage and herself with a light water-proof cloak, which the chill of of the May morning seemed to warrant; she went out of the house and through the back gate, and took the road to the hotel.

Mrs. Granby had just risen, and was delighted that Mabel had come to terms after all, as her little daughter had been longing for the parrot continually. Mabel told her story and Mrs. Granby was deeply affected. She promptly agreed to Mabel's condition, to sell her the bird back again, if she could get together ten dollars of her own to redeem it, and gave Mabel her address in New York.

Mabel was at home again just as the boys were getting their breakfast, and wondering what had become of her. She said she had been taking a walk for her health and refused to gratify them further.

Soon they were through and went out, and when she saw little Joe in the swing, and Ben and Walt sitting on the bench of Walt's making, under the apple-tree, and knew by their gestures they were discussing Perry's colt--she drew from her pocket the crisp, bright, ten-dollar bill, and laid it beside her mother's plate. Her mother's fervent "Thank G.o.d," amply rewarded her for the loss of the parrot.

"But, Mabel," began Mrs. Ross--

"Now, mamma," interrupted Mabel, "you know you promised to trust me.

You will soon know all about it."

Mabel went to school that day with a happy heart.

That evening a portly, middle-aged gentleman stood at the gate, and as she looked up, he said:

"Can you tell me if this is Mrs. Ross's?"

"Yes, sir," said Mabel, wondering who he could be. As she turned and faced him, he caught his breath quickly, and exclaimed:

"Alice!"

Mabel's heart gave a great bound.