Oh, the merry mill-stream it is sparkling and bright As it runs down the hill-side in shadow and light; Now it circles in pools, and now throws a cascade, And laughs out in high glee at the leap it has made.
With its ripples are mingled on many a day The shouts and the laughter of children at play; And many a picnic is joyously spread On its banks, where the green branches wave overhead.
But the jolliest place is the old ruined mill, With the great wooden water-wheel, solemn and still; Once it whirled round and round with the rush of the stream, Till a new mill was built to be driven by steam.
Now the children climb over its big wooden spokes But the wheel into motion they never can coax; They may clamber and push, they may tug with a zest, They can not awake the old giant from rest.
And perhaps, if it only could speak, it would say: "After all the hard labor I've done in my day, It is pleasant to know that the children may still Find their happiest times in the old ruined mill."
Are you sorry, little folks, that your vacation weeks are flying away so rapidly? They fairly race, says Lottie C., when the second week of August has come. So they do; but I am sure Lottie would not like a whole year without school or studies. Fred H. is making a collection of butterflies, and finds the occupation very interesting. Etta R. has never until this summer seen the ocean; she likes to hear the roar of the breakers, and to watch the great waves rolling in upon the shore. Tom P., whose mother has been ill, has been taking care of her, there being no girls at home. Well done, Tom. The boy who is kind and thoughtful in his manner to mother is manly, and on the way to make a gentleman. That is what a gentleman is, boys--just a _gentle man_. Think of it. Pauline C. has been reading Mrs. Browning's poems in her vacation. She has spent her time very wisely. And you, Edward and Priscy, Charles and Kate, Theodore and Isabel, Lulu and Minnie, and all the dear girls and boys who come clustering around me even in my dreams, I am glad when I think how busy and bright you are, and when I hear how you are trying every day to do right and be good. Our Post-office Box has been crowded lately with your sparkling letters, but it is very elastic; so, little Sunbeams, keep on shining.