“And so, when strife was ended,
  No more to be begun,
In conquest’s very moment
  Thus fell the chieftain’s son.”

Then John took out his feather,
  And put his flag away;
And Charlie’s drum was silent
  Until another day.

[Illustration]

THE CHILD’S QUESTION.

[Illustration:  Letter W.]

“What are the flowers for, mamma,
  That spring up fresh and bright,
And grow on every hill and plain,
  Where’er I turn my sight?

“How do the flowers grow, mamma? 
  I’ve pulled the leaves away,
And tried to see them blossom out,
  On many a summer’s day.”

“The flowers were made, my little child,
  That when our footsteps trod
Upon the green and pleasant fields,
  We then might think of God.

“We may not see how they do grow,
  And bloom in beauty fair;
We cannot tell how they can spread
  Their small leaves to the air: 

“But yet we know that God’s kind hand
  Creates these little flowers,
And makes the warm sun shine on them,
  And waters them with showers.

“And so we love to think that He,
  Who paints their sweet leaves thus,
Who sends the sunshine and the rain,
  Has thought and care for us.”

SUNDAY NIGHT.

[Illustration:  Letter T.]

The holy Sabbath day has fled;
  And has it been well spent? 
Have I remembered what was said,
  And why the day was sent?

May I be better all the week,
  For what to-day has taught;
May I God’s love and favor seek,
  And do the things I ought!

HAGAR AND ISHMAEL.

[Illustration:  T.]

’Twas morning, and the pleasant light
Shone on the hills, the trees, the flowers,
And made a far-off country bright,
A lovely land, but not like ours.

A mother led her little child
Forth from his father’s door away;
And with the flowers he played, and smiled
As beautiful and bright as they.

But when, at noon, the warm sun beat
Upon the sweet boy’s forehead fair,
Tired and thirsty from the heat,
He asked in vain for water there.

The bottle, filled with water clear
At early day, was empty now;
The mother laid her child so dear
Beneath an old tree’s spreading bough.

She turned away, and heard the sound
Of water, gushing like the rain;
She raised her boy from off the ground,
He drank, and played and smiled again.

They travelled on for many a day,
The mother and her little child;
And found a home, far, far away,
At last, among the deserts wild.

[Illustration]

EVENING HYMN.

[Illustration]