And watched the flecked floor,”—
Little Giffen: By Francis O. Ticknor. (C. S. B.)
“Out of the focal and foremost fire,
Out of the hospital walls as dire,”—
Little Sogers: (R. B. B. 56.)
“What’s the matter, little sogers,
Why run up and down the land,”—
The Little White Glove: By Paul H. Hayne of S. C. (Amaranth from the Southern Illustrated News.)
“The early Springtime faintly flushed the earth,
And in the woods, and by their favorite stream,”—