You've come, of course, to spend the day
(Thank Heaven! I hear the carriage!)

What! must you go?-next time I hope
You'll give me longer measure.
Nay, I shall see you down the stairs-
(With most uncommon pleasure!)
Good bye! good bye! Remember, all,
Next time you'll take your dinners-
(Now, David-mind, I'm not home,
In future, to the Skinners.)

TRANSITION.

Ode to My Infant Son.

THOMAS HOOD.

Thou happy, happy elf!

(But stop-first let me kiss away that tear,)

Thou tiny image of myself!

(My love, he's poking peas into his ear!) Thou merry, laughing sprite!

With spirits feather light,

Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin (Dear me! the child is swallowing a pin!)

Thou little, tricksy duck!

With antic toys so funnily bestuck,

Light as the singing bird that wings the air, (The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!)

Thou darling of thy sire!

(Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore afire!)

Thou imp of mirth and joy!

In love's dear chain so strong and bright a link,
Thou idol of thy parents!-(Drat the boy!
There goes my ink!)

Thou cherub-but of earth;

Fit playfellow for fays by moonlight pale,

In harmless sport and mirth,

(That dog will bite him if he pulls his tail!)
Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey
From every blossom in the world that blows,
Singing in youth's Elysium ever sunny,
(Another tumble-that's his precious nose!)
Thy father's pride and hope!

(He'll break the mirror with that skipping-rope!)
With pure heart newly stamped from nature's mint-
(Where did he learn that squint?)

Thou young domestic dove!

(He'll have that jug off, with another shove!) Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest!

(Are those torn clothes his best?)

Little epitome of man!

(He'll climb upon the table—that's his plan!) Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life, (He's got a knife!)

Thou enviable being!

No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing,
Play on, play on,

My elfin John!

Toss the light ball-bestride the stick,

(I knew so many cakes would make him sick!)
With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down,
Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk,
With many a lamb-like frisk,

(He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown!)
Thou pretty opening rose!

(Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose!)
Balmy and breathing music like the south,
(He really brings my heart into my mouth!)
Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star,

(I wish that window had an iron bar!) Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove, (I'll tell you what, my love,

I cannot write, unless he's sent above!)

SELECTIONS

CHOSEN FOR THEIR VALUE AS

STUDIES IN VARIETY OF TONE

AND AFFORDING

EXERCISES IN TONING

Bernardo del Carpio.

FELICIA HEMANS.

The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,

And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire; "I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord !—Oh! break my father's chain !"

"Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man this day:

Mount thy good horse; and thou and I will meet him on his way."

Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed.

And lo! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band,

With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the

land: