A PICTURE.
Dainty little Marguerite,
Tripping down the stair,
With the dancing sunlight
In her golden hair,
Through the open doorway,
In the sunny brightness,
Where the morning-glories
Nod in airy lightness.
Mamma, coming downwards,
Sees her darling stand,
Snowy ruffled apron
Held in either hand,
Making stately courtesy
With a childlike grace,
And a reverent brightness
On her upturned face.
"What art doing, baby?"
Called the mother's voice,
While the pretty picture
Made her heart rejoice.
Morning-glories kissed the curls
The open brow adorning,
As the little maid replied,
"I'm wishing God good morning."
JACK BARLOW.
NAUGHTY NASNA.
Nasna was a coati-mondi, a cousin of the raccoon family. She was about the size of a cat, with thick, coarse fur, brown on the back and sides, and shading from yellow to orange underneath. She had a head and four legs, and a fat body; but the two most important parts of her, in her own opinion at least, were her nose and her tail. The tail was certainly very handsome, long, and bushy, with black and yellow rings round it. The nose was long, too,—long and sharp, and always poking, poking itself everywhere. There never was such an inquisitive nose. Now it was lifting the lid of a pot on the kitchen fire (for Nasna was tame, and a great pet of her master's), and scalding itself with the steam; now it was sniffing at a bottle of strong ammonia, without seeming to be troubled in the least by the smell; now it was in her master's pocket, trying to find out what it was that went "Tick! tick!"
