I IO 
ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 
But whether in wild-wood, or shadowy glen, 
The squirrel had found him a shelter again ; 
Or whether, as some of our neighbors still say, 
He fell to the hunter’s sure rifle a prey, 
Most certain it is that he never returned 
To the hand which caressed him, the home which he spurned ; 
And Mary, as she looks on his tenantless pen, 
Says, “ I never will trust a tame squirrel again ! ” 
THE SUNBEAM. 
'HOU art no lingerer in monarch’s hall: 
1 A joy thou art and a wealth to all; 
A bearer of hope unto land and sea: 
Sunbeam, what gift hath the world like thee ? 
Thou art walking the billows, and ocean smiles; 
Thou hast touched with glory his thousand isles ; 
Thou hast lit up the ships, and the feathery foam, 
And gladdened the sailor like words from home. 
To the solemn depths of the forest shades 
Thou art streaming on through their green arcades, 
And the quivering leaves that have caught thy glow, 
Like fireflies glance to the pool below. 
I looked on the mountains : a vapor lay 
Folding their heights in its dark array ; 
Thou breakest, and the mist became 
A crown and a mantle of living flame. 
I looked on the peasant’s lowly cot: 
Something of sadness had wrapped the spot; 
But a gleam of thee on its casement fell, 
And it laughed into beauty at that bright spell. 
Sunbeam of summer, O, what is like thee, 
Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea ? 
One thing is like thee, to mortals given — 
The faith touching all things with hues of heaven. 
Mrs. Hemans. 
The trees were gazing up into the sky, 
Their bare arms stretched in prayer for the snows.” 
Alex. Smith.— “ A Life Drama.” 
