As to the young cousins in the neighborhood, we leave their statistics to the next census. They have proved jewels of comfort to Grandfather Patrick, who, though quite infirm, is still useful to “mind the childer;” while Mrs. O’Brien, the grandmother, labors like Sisyphus to keep little feet in hose, with no hope that her work will ever cease while her breath lasts, or her fingers can ply a needle.
A HOUSEHOLD DIRGE.
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BY R. H. STODDARD.
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I’ve lost my little May at last;
She perished in the Spring,
When earliest flowers began to bud,
And earliest birds to sing;