Blow away! blow away! you only blow gold;
 And while you are waiting to storm and to scold,

 The daffodils gather and deck themselves fine,
 For they know when you come it is surely a sign

 That the winter is gone, and the bluebird is near.
 Blow away! blow away! 't is a sound full of cheer.

 And so we forgive you your boisterous ways,
 Because you bring news of the sweet summer days.
 ELIZABETH A. DAVIS,



 PHILO'S FUNNY TEAM.

 ARTHUR was four years old, and he had come up from the city, with
his mamma, to spend a few weeks at a pleasant farm-house.
 After supper, on this first night in the country, Arthur sat close to
his mamma on the piazza steps. Pretty soon the sun went away, the
air began to grow cool, and then mamma said, "It is time to go to
bed."
 Arthur scowled, and did not stir. He knew that it was his bed-
time; but he felt that it was a great deal pleasanter to sit there, with
so many people around, talking and laughing, than to go up-stairs
to bed in a strange room, even if mamma were within call. No, he
made up his mind that he would not go just yet. So when mamma
held out her hand, and said, Come, Arthur!" he scowled harder
than before, and said, I don't want to; it is too early !"
 Just then Philo, a boy who lived at the farm-house, and who was
more than three times as old as Arthur, came out of the door.
 See here," said he; if you will go to bed like a good boy, I will
take you to ride to-morrow morning with my team."
 Oh, have you a span of ponies asked Arthur, the scowl all
gone.