"LOVE ONE ANOTHER.”

A LITTLE girl, with a happy look,

Sat slowly reading a ponderous book,

All bound with velvet and edged with gold,
And its weight was more than the child could hold;
Yet dearly she loved to ponder it o'er,

And every day she prized it more;

For it said and she looked at her smiling mother-
It said, "Little children, love one another."

She thought it was beautiful in the book,
And the lesson home to her heart she took ;
She walked on her way with a trusting grace,
And a dove-like look in her meek young face,
Which said just as plain as words could say,
"The Holy Bible I must obey ;

So, mamma, I'll be kind to my darling brother,
For little children must love each other.

"I am sorry he 's naughty, and will not play;
But I'll love him still, for I think the way
To make him gentle and kind to me
Will be better shown, if I let him see
I strive to do what I think is right;

And thus, when I kneel in prayer to-night,
I'll clasp my hands around my brother.
And say, 'Little children, love one another.""

The little girl did as her Bible taught,

And pleasant indeed was the change it wrought;
For the boy looked up in glad surprise,
To meet the light of her loving eyes :
His heart was full, he could not speak,
But he pressed a kiss on his sister's cheek;
And God looked down on that happy mother,
Whose little children loved each other.

THE POLAR STAR.

THERE shines on high a lonely star,
To guide the sailor o'er the deep;
To lead him home when yet afar,
And cheer his heart while others sleep.

It is the bright, the Polar Star,

The faithful beacon of the sky;

That speaks of peace when tempests war,
And swelling billows mount on high.

But yet there is one brighter far,
That ever beams with holy light,
And Virtue is that Polar Star,

To keep our wandering footsteps right.
Then while life's mazy path we tread,
We'll fear no ill, no boding gloom;
Secure and blest by Virtue led,

We'll look with hope beyond the tomb.

OH, Peter Trim,

PETER TRIM.

So tall and thin;
He lives in a cottage
Small and prim ;
With the neatest of maids
And the blackest of cats,
And you see for his dinner

The smallest of rats.

He cuts and he carves

The rat into three; "Here's a piece for you, And a piece for me,

The rest must be put
On a shelf; you 'll see,
There'll be plenty left
For a very good tea."

But while he is looking

Intent at the rat,
Up on to the table

Flies that black cat ;
With a growl at Trim,

She has cleared the dish
Of the dinner and tea

Of that solemn old fish.