BY MRS. A. E. THOMAS.
"Hush, dear," said mamma, while busy at play
Were three little mischievous witches;
Little Charley and Lulu, and sweet baby May,
"Hush! Gran'ma is counting her stitches.
"Don't chatter so loud. Ah, see her lips move,
To wreathe in that smile which enriches
Your own lives and mine, my dear little elves;
Ah, hear her now counting her stitches.
"See her pearly white ball, and her soft bordered cap,
With little blue bows in the niches,
And the sheath for her glasses that lie on her lap,
While she's busily counting her stitches."
The bright summer sped, and the beautiful snow
Came falling, and filling the ditches,
When warm little toes, wrapped in soft woollen hose,
Showed that grandma had counted her stitches.
[GLUCK.]
BY MRS. JOHN LILLIE.
When I was a child I used to be very fond of a faded little picture which hung in my grandmother's house. It was on a staircase, and going up and down we liked to stop and look at it, and make up stories about it.
THE OLD PICTURE ON THE STAIRWAY.
The picture represented a fine room, evidently in a palace, and a very splendidly dressed lady, with a tremendous coiffure and a brocaded gown, sitting before a spinet, or old-fashioned piano.
Near her was seated a gentleman, also dressed in the fashion of 1770. He seemed to be teaching her to play. The young lady was charmingly pretty, we thought. The gentleman had a strong, rather stern face, high cheek-bones, and a big forehead; but the look of his eyes was by no means unkindly. Underneath the picture was engraved in script, with any number of flourishes, "Gluck and Marie Antoinette."