OUT of the wild north-east
The snow comes fly-ing;
O-ver our chim-ney tops
The wind goes sigh-ing.
Up, lag-gard birds, a-way,
On swift wings go-ing,
To where, on south-ern hills,
A-far from win-ter's chills,
Soft winds are blow-ing.
POLLY AND HER DEAD BIRD.
SOME one gave lit-tle Pol-ly a bird. It sang all day long, and made the nurs-er-y ring with its mer-ry notes. Pol-ly was so fond of it, and al-ways fed it her-self. One day when the children had come in from a walk, they found the bird dead in its cage. A wick-ed cat had killed it. The chil-dren all cried a great deal; and they bur-ied it in a small white box in the garden, and plant-ed flow-ers o-ver the grave.
MOLL AND JANE'S PICNIC.
MOLL and Jane had a pic-nic. They first begged the cook to give them some sand-wich-es and gin-ger-bread. Then Moll stole down stairs, and got an a-pron-ful of po-ta-toes, while Jane got some match-es. They were go-ing to roast their po-ta-toes; and this is the way they did it. They dug a shal-low hole, put them in, cov-ered them with dirt, and then built a fire a-bove them. They were ver-y good when they were cooked, I can tell you.