AT THE PARTY.

Half a dozen children At our house! Half a dozen children Quiet as a mouse, Quiet as a moonbeam, You could hear a pin— Waiting for the party To begin.

Such a flood of flounces! (Oh dear me!) Such a surge of sashes Like a silken sea. Little eyes demurely Cast upon the ground, Little airs and graces All around.

High time for that party To begin! To sit so any longer Were a sort of sin; As if you were n't acquainted With society. What a thing to tell of That would be!

Up spoke a little lady Aged five; "I 've tumbled up my over-dress, Sure as I 'm alive! My dress came from Paris; We sent to Worth for it; Mother says she calls it Such a fit!"

Quick there piped another Little voice— "I did n't send for dresses, Though I had my choice; I have got a doll that Came from Paris too; It can walk and talk as Well as you!"

Still, till now, there sat one Little girl; Simple as a snow-drop, Without flounce or curl. Modest as a primrose, Soft, plain hair brushed back, But the color of her dress was Black—all black.

Swift she glanced around with Sweet surprise; Bright and grave the look that Widened in her eyes. To entertain the party She must do her share, As if God had sent her Stood she there;

Stood a minute, thinking, With crossed hands How she best might meet the Company's demands. Grave and sweet the purpose To the child's voice given:— "I have a little brother Gone to Heaven!"

On the little party Dropped a spell; All the little flounces Rustled where they fell; But the modest maiden In her mourning gown, Unconscious as a flower, Looketh down.

Quick my heart besought her, Silently. "Happy little maiden, Give, O give to me The highness of your courage, The sweetness of your grace, To speak a large word, in a Little place."