A NUTTING FROLIC.
Come, Robin and Lulu, Cornelia and Fred,
And Daisy and Mollie, and Tommy and Ned,
Call Rover and Fido, and hurry away;
The nuts are just ripe for our frolic to-day.
The frost on the pasture this morning is white;
For sharp was the cold in the silence of night.
All the better; we'll race just to keep ourselves warm,
And rush to the woods like the winds in a storm.
Poor Bunny will scamper far out of our sight,
And watch our proceedings with eyes shining bright.
We'll spare him a feast, for we couldn't be mean,
And leave nothing there for a squirrel to glean.
Bring baskets and buckets and poles, if you please;
We all will take turns at a shake of the trees;
But the boys will work hardest, and laugh at the toil,
And the girls shall go home with the best of the spoil.
Too bad we can't carry our lame little Ted,
And that we have such fun, while he's lying in bed.
I'll tell you, we'll save just the finest for him,
And give him three cheers when the day's growing dim.
Then home over lots with the stores we have won,
For long winter evenings of frolic and fun,
When we'll study our lessons, or merrily play,
And eat the sweet nuts that we'll gather to-day.
I think some of the older readers of the Post-office Box will enjoy this beautiful description of the bells for which the little Roman children listen every winter evening. Some of you who have been abroad have heard them, and others who have never been across the sea are ready to learn all they can about the grand old city which once was the mistress of the whole known world: