The clear echo ringing,
Is heard on the lawn,
While the school-girl is singing
Her joys in the morn.
In the bright glancing school-room,
From tree and from stream,
O'er each rose-tinted cheek-bloom,
How plays the Sun's beam.
Come away, &c.
Come, each happy young maiden,
Your lesson prepare,
With heads freely laden
With Learning's sweet fare.
Come away, &c
Then the blithe ones come bounding,
Aroused by the call,
And their voices resounding
Good lessons from all.
Come away, &c.
Hark! the scholars now wending,
The street-side along,
Are cheerily blending
Their shouts and their song.
Come away, &c.
LETTER FROM THE WEST.
River-Side, St. Charles.
My dear Coz:
Here I am settled down at the far West, on a pretty little farm, and enjoying every earthly blessing. I am surrounded by a family of merry children, who frolic round from morn till night, enjoying every moment of the bright sunshine, and never tired of admiring the beauties all around them. Perhaps a description of my pets may amuse you, so with a mother's natural pride, I will draw a picture of their various traits.
My oldest son is a tall, black-eyed boy, and a most gentlemanly little fellow of his age, assisting his father on the farm, and often lending his aid to me in the school-room, when, amid the cares of teaching, I need a monitor. Young as he is, the native energy of his mind makes the smaller ones bend to his will, and they are very fond of him, in spite of his exactions.