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Poems to be Remembered.

DAY: A PASTORAL.

MORNING.

The approach of niorning is proclaimed by the cock crowing in the barn. He is called the tenant cock, because the barn is his house, in which he and his wife, Dame Partlet the hen, reside. He is the shepherd's clock, because the shepherd knows when he hears him crow that it is time to get up. The shadows of night flee from the mountain, and the first beams of the rising sun colour the spire of the village church with a golden hue.

N the barn the tenant cock,

Close to Partlet perched on high,
Briskly crows, (the shepherd's clock !)

Jocund that the morning's nigh.
Swiftly from the mountain's brow

Shadows, nursed by night, retire,
And the peeping sunbeams now

Paint with gold the village spire. The nightingale leaves the bush in which she has been singing all night, and the lark begins to soar heavenward, singing as he soars. The chattering swallow leaves her nest, and, darting through the bridge over the neighbouring stream, dips her wing into the water.

Philomel forsakes the thorn,

Plaintive where she prates at night;
And the lark, to meet the morn,

Soars beyond the shepherd's sight.
From the low-roofed cottage ridge

See the chattering swallow spring;
Darting through the one-arched bridge,

Quick she dips her dappled wing. The breeze of morn now bends slowly and stately the head of the lofty pinetree, and the little kids begin to wander about through the fields for their morning meal. The busy bee, up betimes in the morning, begins her day's work of gathering honey, and rests not till it is finished at night. The thirsty sheep see the stream of water that flows through their meadow, which, driven by the sun from the hills, and trickling over rocks and stones, is very sweet and refreshing.

Now the pine-tree's waving top

Gently greets the morning gale ;
Kidlings now begin to crop

Daisies in the dewy vale.

From the balmy sweets uncloyed

(Restless till her task be done),
Now the busy bee's employed

Sipping dew before the sun.
Trickling through the creviced rock

Where the limpid stream distils,
Sweet refreshment waits the flock

When 'tis sun-drove from the hills. Colin, the shepherd, hearing the huntsman's horn, becomes anxious for his master's wheat, which is not yet ripe, and which would be spoiled if trodden down by the hunters. The little birds assemble in the hedges, and sing their sweet songs in honour of the new-born day.

Colin, for the promised corn,

Eré the harvest hopes are ripe,
Anxious hears the huntsman's horn,

Boldly sounding, drown his pipe.
Sweet, O sweet, the warbling throng,

On the white emblossomed spray !
Nature's universal song
Echoes to the rising day.

CUXXINGHAM.

[Those who appreciate this manner of opening up the meaning of poetry to children, will find the most popular poems in the language so dealt with in John Heywood's Explanatory Book of Standard Poetry, 160 pages, price One Shilling.)

Popular Stories.

HANS IN LUCK.

ANS had served his master seven years, and at last

said to him, “ Master, my time is up; I should like to go home and see my mother; so give me my wages." And the master said, “You have been a faithful and good servant, so your pay shall be handsome.” Then he gave him a piece of silver that was

as big as his head. Hans took out his pocket-handkerchief, put the piece of silver into it, threw it over his shoulder, and jogged off homeward. As he went lazily on, dragging one foot after another, a man came in sight, trotting along gaily on a capital horse. “Ah !” said Hans

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aloud, “what a fine thing it is to ride on horseback! There he sits as if he were at home in his chair! He trips against no stones, spares his shoes, and yet gets on he hardly knows how.” The horseman heard this, and said, “Well Hans, why do you go on foot then?” “Ah,” said he, “I have this load to carry. To be sure it is silver, but it is so heavy that I can't hold up my head, and it hurts my shoulder sadly.” “What do you say to changing ?said the horseman : “I will give you my horse, and you shall give me the silver.” “With all my heart,” said Hans; “but I tell you one thing you'll have a weary task to drag it along.” The horseman got off, took the silver, helped Hans up, gave him the bridle into his hand, and said, “ When you want to go very fast, you must smack your lips loud, and cryJip.'” Hans was delighted as he sat on the horse, and rode merrily

After a time, he thought he should like to go a little faster, so he smacked his lips and cried “Jip!” Away went the horse full gallop; and before Hans knew what he was about, he was thrown off, and lay in a ditch by the roadside ; and his horse would have run off, if a shepherd, who was coming by, driving a cow, had not stopped it. Hans soon came to himself, and got upon his legs again. He was sadly vexed, and said to the shepherd,“ This riding is no joke when a man gets on a beast like this, that stumbles, and flings him off as if he would break his neck. However, I am off now once for all. I like your cow a great deal better; one can walk along at one's leisure behind her, and have milk, butter, and cheese every day into the bargain. What would I give to have such a cow !” Well,” said the shepherd, “ if you are so fond of her, I will change my cow for

“Done !” said Hans merrily. The shepherd

! jumped upon the horse, and away he rode.

Hans drove off his cow quietly, and thought his bargain a very lucky one. “If I have only a piece of bread (I certainly shall be able to get that), I can, whenever I like, eat my butter and cheese with it; and when I am thirsty I can milk my cow, and drink the milk. What can I wish for more?” When he came to an inn he halted, ate up all his bread, and gave away his last penny for a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow towards his mother's village ; and the heat grew greater as noon came on, till at last he found himself on a wide heath that would take

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him more than an hour to cross, and he began to be so hot and parched that his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. find a cure for this,” thought he : “now will I milk my cow, and quench my thirst.” So he tied her to the stump of a tree, and held his leathern cap to milk into; but not a drop was to be had.

While he was trying his luck, and managing the matter very clumsily, the uneasy beast gave him a kick on the head that knocked him down, and there he lay a long time senseless. Luckily a butcher soon came by driving a pig in a wheelbarrow. “What is the matter with you ?" said the butcher, as he helped him up. Hans told him what had happened, and the butcher gave him a flask, saying, “ There, drink and refresh yourself. Your cow will give you no milk: she is an old beast, good for nothing but the slaughter-house.” • “Alas! alas !" said Hans, “who would have thought it? If I kill her, what would she be good for? I hate cow-beef; it is not tender enough for me. If it were a pig, now, one could do something with it ; it would at any rate make some sausages.” “Well,” said the butcher, “ to please you I'll change, and give you the pig for the cow.” “Heaven reward you for your kindness !” said Hans, as he

gave the butcher the cow, and took the pig off the wheelbarrow, and drove it off, holding it by the string that was tied to its leg.

So on he jogged, and all seemed now to go right with him. He had met with some misfortunes to be sure, but he was now well repaid for all. The next person he met was a countryman carrying a fine white goose under his arm.

The countryman stopped to ask what it was o'clock; and Hans told him all his luck, and how he had made so many good bargains. The countryman said he was going to take the goose to a christening “Feel,” said he, “ how heavy it is, and yet it is only eight weeks old. Whoever roasts and eats it may cut plenty of fat off it, it has lived so well !” “ You're right,” said Hans, as he weighed it in his hand ; “but my pig is no trifle.” Meanwhile the countryman began to look grave, and shook his head. “ Hark ye,” said he, “my good friend ; your pig may get you into a scrape. In the village I just come from the squire has had a pig stolen out of his stye. I was dreadfully afraid when I saw you that you had got the squire's pig. It will be a bad job if

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they catch you ; the least they'll do will be to throw you into the horsepond.”

Poor Hans was sadly frightened. 6 Good man,” cried he, "pray get me out of this scrape. You know this country better than I-take my pig and give me your goose.” “I ought to have

omething into the bargain,” said the countryman ; "however, I will not bear hard upon you, as you are in trouble.” Then he took the string in his hand, and drove off the pig by a side path, while Hans went on his way homewards free from care.

“ After all,” thought he, “I have the best of the bargain : first there will be a capital roast; then the fat will find me in goose-grease for six months; and then there are all the beautiful white feathers—I will put them into my pillow, and then I am sure I shall sleep soundly without rocking. How happy my mother will be !”

As he came to the last village, he saw a scissor-grinder with his wheel working away, and singing,

O'er hill and o'er dale so happy I roam,
Work light and live well, all the world is my home;

Who so blithe, so merry as I? Hans stood looking on for a while, and at last said, “You must be well off, master grinder, you seem so happy at your work.” “Yes,” said the other, “mine is a golden trade ; a good grinder never puts his hand in his pocket without finding money in it. But where did you get that beautiful goose ?” “I did not buy it, but changed a pig for it.” “And where did you get the pig ?" “I gave a cow for it." " And the cow ?“I gave a horse for it.”

“ And the horse ?“I gave a piece of silver as big as my head for that." " And the silver ?“Oh! I worked for that seven long years.” “You have thriven well in the world hitherto,” said the grinder ; “now if you could find money in your pocket whenever you put your hand in it, your fortune would be made.” “Very true ; but how is that to be managed ?" “ You must turn grinder like me," said the other : "you only want a grindstone ; the rest will come of itself. Her is one that is a little the worse for wear: I would not ask more than the value of your goose for it ;—will you buy ?” “How can you ask such a question ?” replied Hans. “I should be the happiest man in the world if I could have money whenever I put my hand in my pocket. What could I want more? There's the goose !"

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