Now, with regret, they've said Good-bye to Paris bright and gay;
To Calais they are drawing nigh—you see them on their way.
To travel thus, all through the night, at first they thought was fun.
But by degrees they grew less bright, as hours passed one by one.
Then Nellie to her sisters said, "Let's have an extra rug.
And make-believe we're home in bed, and cuddle close and snug,
And try, until the night has passed, which can most quiet keep."
Then all were tucked up warm and fast, and soon fell sound asleep.
The happy time abroad, again in dreams is all gone o'er—
Again in Paris, as it seems, they watch the crowd once more.
The "Elysian Fields," beneath the trees, are peopled with a throng
Of loveliest dolls, which at their ease converse, or ride along;
And wondrous "Easter Eggs" in nests, abundant lie around,
And "April Fish" with golden vests and silver coats, abound!
Such fleeting fancies Dreamland lends to pass the time away
Until the railway journey ends, just at the break of day.

PORTE DE LA MER, CALAIS.

The last place where they stopped abroad was Calais, which, you know,
Belonged to England once—though that was many a year ago:
It has a beautiful old Tower, all weatherworn and brown,
And here's the Sea-Gate, opening from the walls that guard the town.
But now Farewell to Merry France! the vessel ready waits
To take our party back again across the Dover Straits.

HOMEWARD BOUND.

Hurrah! we're afloat, and away speeds the boat as fast as its paddles can go,
With the wind on its back, and a broad foaming track behind it, as white as the snow.
On board, every eye is strained to descry the white cliffs of our own native land,
And brightly they gleam, as onward we steam, till at length they are close at hand.
The sun shines with glee on the rippling sea, and the pennant strung high on the mast.
But at length it sinks down behind the grey town, and tells us the day is nigh past.
See, there is the port, and near it a fort, and the strong old Castle of Dover—
We're close to the shore—just five minutes more, and the Channel Crossing is over.
Then all safe and sound upon English ground, we bid farewell to the sea—
Jump into the train, and start off again as fast as the engine can flee.
We run up to town, and thence travel down to the home in the country, at night;
Then, I'm sorry to say, dear Nellie and May, Rose, Dennis, and Bertie bright,
We must leave in their home till next holidays come, when, let all of us hope, it may chance
That our trip will, next Spring, be as pleasant a thing as our swallow-flight over to France.