So I comes right away by mysen, with the book,
    And I turns the old pages and has a good look
    For the text as I’ve found, as tells me as He
        Were the same trade as me.

    Why don’t I mark it?  Ah, many say so,
    But I think I’d as lief, with your leaves, let it go: 
    It do seem that nice when I fall on it sudden—­
        Unexpected, you know!

CATHERINE C. LIDDELL.

 LETTY’S GLOBE.

“Letty’s Globe” gives us the picture of a little golden-haired girl who covers all Europe with her dainty hands and tresses while giving a kiss to England, her own dear native land. (1808-79.)

    When Letty had scarce pass’d her third glad year,
    And her young, artless words began to flow,
    One day we gave the child a colour’d sphere
    Of the wide earth, that she might mark and know,
    By tint and outline, all its sea and land. 
    She patted all the world; old empires peep’d
    Between her baby fingers; her soft hand
    Was welcome at all frontiers.  How she leap’d,
    And laugh’d and prattled in her world-wide bliss! 
    But when we turn’d her sweet unlearned eye
    On our own isle, she rais’d a joyous cry,
   “Oh! yes, I see it!  Letty’s home is there!”
    And, while she hid all England with a kiss,
    Bright over Europe fell her golden hair!

CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER.

 A DREAM.

    Once a dream did wave a shade
    O’er my angel-guarded bed,
    That an emmet lost its way
    When on grass methought I lay.

    Troubled, ’wildered, and forlorn,
    Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
    Over many a tangled spray,
    All heart-broke, I heard her say: 

   “Oh, my children! do they cry? 
    Do they hear their father sigh? 
    Now they look abroad to see. 
    Now return and weep for me.”

    Pitying, I dropped a tear;
    But I saw a glow-worm near,
    Who replied, “What wailing wight
    Calls the watchman of the night?

   “I am set to light the ground
    While the beetle goes his round. 
    Follow now the beetle’s hum—­
    Little wanderer, hie thee home!”

WILLIAM BLAKE.

 HEAVEN IS NOT REACHED AT A SINGLE BOUND.

 (A FRAGMENT.)

“We build the ladder by which we climb” is a line worthy of any poet. 
 J.G.  Holland (1819-81) has immortalised himself in this line, at least.

    Heaven is not reached at a single bound,
      But we build the ladder by which we rise
      From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
    And we mount to its summit round by round.

    I count this thing to be grandly true: 
      That a noble deed is a step toward God,—­
      Lifting the soul from the common clod
    To a purer air and a broader view.

J.G.  HOLLAND.