At last he came, the messenger,

The messenger from unseen lands! And what did dainty Baby Bell?

She only crossed her little hands,
She only looked more meek and fair!
We parted back her silken hair,

We wove the roses round her brow,-
White buds, the summer's drifted snow,-
Wrapt her from head to foot in flowers
And thus went dainty Baby Bell

Out of this world of Ours!

T. B. ALDRICH.

MEASURING THE BABY.

We measured the riotous baby
Against the cottage wall,
A lily grew at the threshold,
And the boy was just as tall.
A Royal Tiger-lily,

With spots of purple and gold,
And the heart of a jewell'd chalice
The fragrant dew to hold.

Without the blue-birds whistled,
High up in the old roof-trees;
And to and fro at the window

The red rose rocked her bees.
And the wee pink fists of the baby
Were never a moment still,
Snatching at shine and shadow
That danced at the lattice-sill.

His eyes were as wide as blue-bells—

His mouth like a flower unblown-
Two little bare feet, like funny white mice,
Peeped out from his snowy gown:
And we thought with a thrill of rapture,
That yet had a touch of pain,

When June rolls around with her roses
We'll measure the boy again.

Ah me! in a darkened chamber,
With the sunshine shut away,
Through tears that fell like a bitter rain,
We measured the boy to-day:

And the little bare feet that were dimpled
And sweet as a budding rose

Lay side by side together,

In the hush of a long repose.

Up from the dainty pillow,

White as the risen dawn, The fair little face lay smiling,

With the light of heaven thereon :
And the dear little hands, like roseleaves
Dropped from a rose, lay still,

Never to catch at the sunshine
That crept to the shrouded sill.

We measured the sleeping baby
With ribbons white as snow,
For the shining rosewood casket
That waited him below:
And out of the darkened chamber

We went with a childless moan:-
To the height of the sinless angels
Our little one had grown.

ANONYMOUS.

BESSIE AND I.

IN TWO PARTS.

I.

Enjoy'd your dinner, have you, my boy? Well, come, that's jolly, you know,

Though I wish that Bessie had been here too-she's longing

to see you so.

Here, bring your chair to the fire, old man, and don't be afraid o' the wine;

And we'll have a quiet weed, if you like, and a chat on "auld lang syne."

So 'tis seven years since you went away, and I have been married five:

What! you thought I "hadn't the cheek" to propose to a girl? Why, man alive,

'Tis the strangest, most delightful thing that ever happen'd,

you see:

I didn't "pop the question" at all. 'Twas Bessie proposed to me!

Here, Edie and Sid, you may run off now, and have a game

o' play;

Come, you know what mamma was to bring you home, if you be good children to-day:

Your uncle and I have a lot o' things that we want to talk about;

And you shall come in again, my dears, when we've had our gossip out.

And now for my tale, though I hardly know what Bessie would say if she knew

By Jove, how she'll open her eyes when she comes to be introduced to you!

As I told you, she's spending the day with a friend-her cousin, by the bye

Who's just been obeying the old command, to increase and multiply.

Well, you know what our prospects were, old man—our mother's, and Kate's, and mine—

When you bade us good-bye to go to sea in the navy-doctoring

line;

With the mother's pension and jointure, you know, she was pretty well off, and then

We thought I was sure to make my mark, what with the bar and the pen.

I remember how you laugh'd at my rhymes, you unbelieving

Jew,

And used to rout me out from my books to go and idle with

you;

But the mother and Kate believed in me, as our foolish woman-folks will,

And Bessie dubb'd me her laureate, and knight of the gray goose-quill.

You know what Bessie was as a child, in the dear old bygone

days,

With her big brown eyes and golden head and her pretty wilful ways;

How she plagued, and charm'd, and queen'd it o'er us youngsters oft and oft,

Yet what a dear little heart it was, how clinging, and tender, and soft!

Her brother Willie and I were "old particulars," bear in

mind,

And the good old rector and his wife were always hearty and kind;

So that hardly a day would pass away but I found myself,

you see,

In the quaint old garden with Bessie and Will, and who so happy as we?

Heigho! they were pleasant times, old man,-fresh, and hopeful, and true,

Ere the foot of Time had trampled and soil'd the sheen of life's morning dew!

When I think of those garden walks and pranks what tender memories rise,

With Bessie the centre figure of all, with her merry, mischievous eyes!

Well, I went to Heidelberg, as you know, to finish my school

career,

In that quaint old home of spectacled lore, meerschaums, and läger-beer;

And when I came back, my child-playmate had vanish'd, and in her place

Was a fair girl-woman, shy and sweet, with a gentle, winsome face.

And I loved her, I loved her-God knows how well!—from

her first shy welcoming glance,

With a passion as strong, and tender, and pure, as the love of old Romance;

And she?—she was always pleasant and kind with the friend of her childhood gay,

But whether my darling loved me or no was more than I could say.

Willie and Kate were engaged, you know, and they'd look so conscious and shy,

That we used to tease and banter them both, his sister Bessie

and I;