LITTLE HE AND SHE. BIG is Phalle, four years old,

Slender she and tall,

Lightly cast in fairy mould ; Paul is fat and small, Yet tho' such a tiny one, Counting years but three, All by Phillis said or done Say or do will he.

Sometimes her ambition foils

All his care and pain,

And like panting Time he toils After her in vain.

Then he tries and tries the feat, Till his zeal has won it; Satisfaction how complete

Breathes his grave "I done it !"

To her mother Phillis o'er Ocean sends a call : "Tell her come back quick, before I get big and tall ; Quickly, big ship, bring her home, Small I want to be, So that, when dear mother's come, She can carry me."

Stockings new and locks of gold Made her proud, but then All things good (so she'd been told) Come from Heaven to men. "Auntie," thus with thoughtful air Said she, "is it true God gave me my yellow hair, And my stockings too ?"

Hung a spider by its thread Near the nose of Paul; To himself, "I'm big," he said, - "And the spider's small."

So to fright it, in so far As words may, cries he,

All a-tremble, "Cobbler, are You afraid of me?"

Lo, a frog along the floor, Toy mechanic, flops : Both, all eyes, intently pore O'er it, while it hops. Stopped, Paul pounces on the thing, Tarns it up and shows it; Pointing to its motive spring

- With a loud "That goes it !"

Nature wrapt in wintry glooms Has of flowers bereft them; Yet for children Earth has blooms, Still "green flowers" are left them. What tho' only leaves they be, Forth, in spite of weather, Paul and Phillis roam with glee, Plucking them together.

Merry Phillis, winsome Paul !

What quaint echoes dear Of your happy voices fall

On my distant ear !

I have treasured them a while, Till to song they grew; Now o'er many an ocean mile Toss them back to you!