THE CHILD AND THE ANGEL.

A CHILD knelt down in the forest dark,
Where no human heart could see;
But a sunbeam flashed from a cloud that passed,
And crept through the gray oak-tree.

As it fell on the child's bright up-turned face,
And heard its low, sweet prayer,

Like a glory it shone through the dark cold place,
Till the child seemed an angel there.

Then the prayer of the child was a low, sad hymn For forgiveness, hope, and trust;

And he wept as he told of care and sin,

Till the flowers their sweet bells hushed.
And he spake of a Giant, who, day by day,
Followed him everywhere;

Who whispered of sorrow, pain, and wrong,
And filled his heart with care;

Who tempted him evil things to do,

Harsh, cruel words to say;

Destroyed the flowers he loved so well,
Frightened his birds away.

Then the low, sad voice was hushed in tears;

And so quiet his spirit grew,

That a purple twilight filled the wood,

And the flowers seemed praying too.

And he came each day that prayer to say,
Till the Giant's strength was fled;
And it seemed an angel through the wood
His gentle footsteps led.

The soft moss curled about his feet;
Each flower's trembling hand
Struck welcome on its tiny harp,

That he could understand.

The purple shadows crept about,
So lovingly and near,

They'd fold him in their gentle arms,
But for their timid fear:

The golden sunbeams flickered round,
Till the dark moss where they fell,
With golden butterflies seemed crowned,
As stars shine in a well.

Would ye know the Angel that could make

The dark wood seem so light,

And the cruel Giant that destroyed

All things so pure and bright?

Anger is the Giant's name;

He killed the birds and flowers; He sorrows, with his evil words, Far older hearts than ours.

Would ye know the Angel that could drive
The cruel fiend away?

That gentle spirit ever comes,

When the heart doth humbly pray;
And, like an angel, by the hand
It leads us through the world,

And guides us to that hidden strand
Where sorrow's wing is furled.

GUARDIAN ANGELS.

HOLY angels, sister dear,

Dwell with little children here:

Every night and every day

With the good they love to stay.

When we're good, then they are glad;
Are we naughty? they are sad;
Should we very wicked grow,

From us sorrowful they'd go.

S. W. L.

ANGEL CHILDREN.

No. I.

"He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes;
He kissed their drooping leaves;

It was for the Lord of Paradise

He bound them in his sheaves.

'My Lord hath need of these flowerets gay,'

The reaper said, and smiled;

Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child.''

COME, my little friends, visit with me this quiet school-room in the pleasant town of N. It is no mere story-place! for there are the boys and girls still flocking through the gate, and playing around the door. There is the weeping-willow waving over the lattice, the clematis twining with the honeysuckle and white rose around the door, and the woodbine still trying to peep into the windows. There are the garden-beds, too, though now I suppose buried deep in snow, where busy little hands used in the summer-time to plant and water, and pull up again; and busy

little feet were too wont to tread down and destroy the fruits of many days of toil.

Come, you need not write, cipher, nor spell. I will show you even better things than these, — sweet, innocent faces, happy eyes, and pleasant voices, passed away from earth truly, but living so lovingly in the memories of all who knew them, that they are still seen and heard in the places they used to love on earth. Those were the flowers which Death, the reaper, smiled upon and gathered; such the lessons which you shall learn in the quiet school-room, if you will come and study with me there. And, first, I will show you the anemone; for such was our precious little pet, Clara L. Too young to be a scholar in earnest, she used to come for an hour or two to play study. All the little ones smiled, when her father's knock was heard at the door, and little Clara was led in, to sit · for want of any upon the arm of the teacher's chair. How sweetly would her clear blue eyes look back the love which shone out upon her from all around! How wonder-wide they opened at the reciting classes! and how laughingly they glistened, when once her little sly hand took up the teacher's bell, and, to the suppressed merriment of the school, gave it a timid ring! With her soft, curling hair parted upon her pure forehead,

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