OFF FOR BOYLAND.

HO! All aboard? A traveler

Sets sail from Babyland!

Before my eyes there comes a blur;

But still I kiss my hand,

And try to smile as off he goes,

My bonny, winsome boy!

Yes, bon voyage! God only knows

How much I wish thee joy!

Oh! tell me; have you heard of him?

He wore a sailor’s hat

All silver-corded round the brim,

And—stranger e’en than that—

A wondrous suit of navy blue,

With pockets deep and wide;

Oh! tell me, sailors, tell me true,

How fares he on the tide?

We’ve now no baby in the house;

’Twas but this very morn,

He doffed his dainty ’broidered blouse,

With skirts of snowy lawn;

And shook a mass of silken curls

From off his sunny brow;

They fretted him—“so like a girl’s,”

Mamma can have them now.

He owned a brand-new pocket-book,

But that he could not find;

A knife and string were all he took.

What did he leave behind?

A heap of blocks, with letters gay,

And here and there a toy;

I cannot pick them up to-day,

My heart is with my boy.

Ho! Ship ahoy! At boyhood’s town

Cast anchor strong and deep.

What! tears upon this little gown,

Left for mamma to keep?

Weep not, but smile; for through the air

A merry message rings—

“Just sell it to the rag man there;

I’ve done with baby things!”

Emma Huntington Nason.

ON THE LOOKOUT.

THE OLD WORLD TOO.

AMERICA is still the “New World.” Each day pick up something new about it. It is your world now. But there is an “Old World.” You must know about that too. If you could go and see it, so much the better. The eye is a little contrivance, but large enough to take in all England, Ireland, Scotland and any other land it gets a chance to see.

If you go abroad you must sail. There is no railroad or cable to carry you yet. A hundred years hence people may cross the Atlantic in balloons. But you can’t wait so long. Why should you? Here is the good ship Majestic—not exactly the one shown in the picture on the first page—which will take you over from New York to Liverpool in less than six days.

Once it took weeks. Sometimes a big iceberg came sailing along right across the ship’s path. Then there was a crash. Perhaps the poor little ship went to splinters and the passengers—well, you know what happened then. Sometimes a dreadful storm came down upon the ocean and the waves went up and down, looking like mountains and valleys. Not every frail ship could stand it. There was a wreck. But in spite of all these dreadful things most passengers get there and see the sights, and have a good time and get safely home. A friend has crossed the Atlantic nearly seventy times safely.