AUTUMN.

    Mark the wreath about my head,—­wreath of richest flowers;
    I am Autumn, and I bring mildest, happiest hours;
    In my hand a goblet see, which the grape-juice holds;
    Corn and grain and precious fruits, Autumn’s arm enfolds.

WINTER.

    Round my head the holly-leaf; in my hand the pine: 
    I am Winter cold and stern; these last flowers are mine. 
    But while I am left to rule, all’s not dark or sad;
    Christmas comes with winter-time to make the children glad.

ALL THE SEASONS.

    Here our offerings glad we bring,
    And long life to Grandma sing.

Emily Carter.

[Illustration:  Hummingbirds and Fruit]

THE LITTLE CULPRIT.

School had begun.  The boys and girls were in their places, and the master was hearing them spell; when all at once there was a soft, low knock at the door.

“Come in!” said the master; and a little cleanly-dressed girl, about six years old, stood upon the threshold, with downcast eyes.

She held out before her, as if trying to hide behind it, a satchel, so large that it seemed hard to decide whether the child had brought it, or it had brought the child; and the drops on her cheeks showed how she had been running.

“Why, Katie!” cried the schoolmaster, “why do you come so late?  Come here to me, little culprit.  It is the first time you have been late.  What does it mean?”

Little Katie slowly approached him, while her chubby face grew scarlet.  “I—­I had to pick berries,” she faltered, biting her berry-stained lips.

“O Katie!” said the master, raising his forefinger, “that is very strange.  You had to?  Who, then, told you to?”

Katie still looked down; and her face grew redder still.

“Look me in the face, my child,” said the master gravely.  “Are you telling the truth?”

Katie tried to raise her brown roguish eyes to his face:  but, ah! the consciousness of guilt weighed down her eyelids like lead.  She could not look at her teacher:  she only shook her curly head.

“Katie,” said the master kindly, “you were not sent to pick berries:  you ran into the woods to pick them for yourself.  Perhaps this is your first falsehood, as it is the first time you have been late at school.  Pray God that it may be your last.”

“Oh, oh!” broke forth the little culprit, “the neighbor’s boy, Fritz, took me with him; and the berries tasted so good that I staid too long.”

[Illustration:  At Teacher’s Desk]

The other children laughed; but a motion of the master’s hand restored silence, and, turning to Katie, he said, “Now, my child, for your tardiness you will have a black mark, and go down one in your class; but, Katie, for the falsehood you will lose your place in my heart, and I cannot love you so much.  But I will forgive you, if you will go stand in the corner of your own accord.  Which will you do,—­lose your place in my heart, or go stand in the corner for a quarter of an hour?”