THE YOUNG FOLKS.

Waipawa Mail, Volume XIII, Issue 2502, 6 September 1890, Page 7

THE YOUNG FOLKS.

WHAT DOES THE BABY THINK? What is the little one thinking about ? Very wonderful things, no doubt. Unwritten history, Unfathomed mystery! Yet he laughs, aud cries, and eats and drinks. And chuckles, and crows, and nods, and winks, As if his head were full of kiuk3 And curious riddles as any sphinx! Warped by cholic and wet by tears, Punctured by pins and tortured by fears, Our little nephew will lose two years! And he’ll never know Where the summers go; He need not laugh, for lie’ll find it so. Who can tell what a baby thinks? Who can follow the gossamer links By which the mannikin feels his way Out from the shore of the great unknown, Blind, and waiting, and alone, Into the light of day ? Out from the shore of the unknown sea, Tossing in pitiful agony— Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls, Speckled with barks of little souls—• Barks that were launched on the other side, And slipped from heaven on an ebbing tide? What does he think of his mother’s eyes? What does he think of his mother’s hair? What of the cradle roof that flios Forward and backwards through the air ? What does he think of his mother’s breast— Bare and beautiful, fair and white, Seeking it ever with fresh delight— Cup of his life and couch of his rest ? What docs he think when her quick embrace Presses his hand and buries his face Deep where the heart throbs sink and swell With a tenderness she can never tell, Though she murmur the words Of all the birds— Words she has learned to murmur well? Now he thinks he’ll go to sleep ! I can see the shadows creep Over his eyes in soft eclipre, Over his brew and over his rips, Out to hi 9 little finger tips ! Softly sinking down he goes ! See ! He is hushed in soft repose. —From J G. Holland’s “ Bitter Svreet.” LITTLE COOCHEE. Our little Coochee, the tame squirrel, was charming pet. He was found by the gardene in the shrubbery, half-dead, quite a young squirrel, having only lately left the nest. He had a large cage, but he was rarely in it. We never had a tamer pet. As soon as the household was astir in the morning, Coochee began his wanderings, and reamed through the plantations and shrubberies independently, always, however, returning to his mistress’s window in time to enter as soon as she opened it, when he bounded in, and with a couple of springs was on her shoulder. He greatly enjoyed a scamper amongst her hair, and was often so persistant in his determination to pull down the coils folded on the top of the head that he had to be forcibly dislodged. He came down to breakfast on her shoulder, and sat solemnly serious by the toast-rack until his master handed him a hit of toast spread with a little butter. Butter was not Considered wholesome for him, but it was such a supreme delight to the little fellow that he was given a little bit of buttered toast every morning. He always sat up and munched it, holding it between his two tiny paws. We were much distressed at his prolonged absence one spring. He was gone for at least a fortnight, when suddenly he reappeared, accompanied by a young female. Together they established a nest in a tall sprue® fir, and there a lot of young squirrels, three or four, were born and brought up ; but, though Coocheo himself remained faithful to his old friends, and ns tame as ever, his wife and children never felt the same affection for us, and only lingered about the place in a shy sort of war, never cnce attemx-iting to follow their lord and master into the house.— Household Words. SAVED BY A LARK. “ There is a nest in there, and I am going to find it,” said Helen to herself. She ported the tall yellow wheat-stalks to right and left, and went forward, looking all about her with her bright, sharp eyes. Sho did not have to go very far, for right before her was the nest, sure enough, and in it were three little birds. Was there ever anything so cunning as those little heads, with their tiny bills wide open j It was such a pretty place for a nest too. Helen clapped her hands again, she was so ffin she sat down by the nest, but she did not touch the birdies. It was like being in a golden forest, for the grain was high above her

Soon her eyes began to feel heavy, for she was very tired after her long walk. She lay down, with her head upon her arm, and in a short time was fast asleep. On came the horses, drawing the reaper with its sharp, cutting knives. Helen’s father was driving, and they were coming right towards the spot where the little child was lying. Oh, Helen, little does your father think that y©u are hidden there in the tall grain l

What was it that made the farmer check his horses all at once ? Did something tell Mm that his deal 1 baby was in danger r Oh no; he thought that she was safe at hem a r with her mother. But be was a good man, with a kind heart, and he saw something that made him stop. The Lark was flying wildly about over the groin that was in front of the reaper. She seemed to say, “ Stop ! stop !” The farmer thought that he kngw what she meant, and be was too kind-hearted to harm a bird’s neat. So he said to one ef the men, “Here, Tom, come and bold the horses. There must be a nest somewhere among thiu grain. I will walk in and look for it,”

What a cry the men heard when ho found little Helen fast asleep by the lark’s nest! How his heart, almost stood still when he thought of the danger she had been in! He caught her up in his arms and oovered her faca with kisses. “Oh my darling!” ho said, “it was the lark that saved you . Yes it was the lark, and his own kind heart, that saved her. Helen was carried home in her father’s strong arms. She could not understand what made the tears ran down from his cheeks.

It was some time before the men could go on with their work. They left the grain standing around the lark’s nest, to thank her, as they said, for saving little Helen. As they stood looking at the little bird’s nest, one of the men, with big teal’s in his eyes, said, “God bless the birds ! Come away, boys, and let the little mother feed her babies.”— Harper's Second Reader.