It is a very pretty one," observed the poet with charming candor; and, taking a long breath, he tuned his little lyre afresh: Sweet, sweet days are passing O'er my happy home.
Passing on swift wings through the valley of life.
Cold are the days when winter comes again.
When my sweet days were passing at my happy home, Sweet were the days on the rivulet's green brink; Sweet were the days when I read my father's books; Sweet were the winter days when bright fires are blazing." "Bless the baby! where did he get all that ?" exclaimed Miss Celia, amazed; while the children giggled as Tennyson, Jr., took a bite at the turtle instead of the half-eaten cake, and then, to prevent further mistakes, crammed the unhappy creature into a diminutive pocket in the most business-like way imaginable.
"It comes out of my head.

I make lots of them," began the imperturbable one, yielding more and more to the social influences of the hour.
"Here are the peacocks coming to be fed," interrupted Bab, as the handsome birds appeared with their splendid plumage glittering in the sun.
Young Barlow rose to admire; but his thirst for knowledge was not yet quenched, and he was about to request a song from Juno and Jupiter, when old Jack, pining for society, put his head over the garden wall with a tremendous bray.
This unexpected sound startled the inquiring stranger half out of his wits; for a moment the stout legs staggered and the solemn countenance lost its composure, as he whispered, with an astonished air, "Is that the way peacocks scream ?" The children were in fits of laughter, and Miss Celia could hardly make herself heard as she answered merrily,-- "No, dear; that is the donkey asking you to come and see him: will you go?
"I guess I couldn't stop now.

Mamma might want me." And, without another word, the discomfited poet precipitately retired, leaving his cherished sticks behind him.
Ben ran after the child to see that he came to no harm, and presently returned to report that Alfred had been met by a servant, and gone away chanting a new verse of his poem, in which peacocks, donkeys, and "the flowers of life" were sweetly mingled.
"Now I'll show you my toys, and we'll have a little play before it gets too late for Thorny to stay with us," said Miss Celia, as Randa carried away the tea-things and brought back a large tray full of picture-books, dissected maps, puzzles, games, and several pretty models of animals, the whole crowned with a large doll dressed as a baby.
At sight of that, Betty stretched out her arms to receive it with a cry of delight.

Bab seized the games, and Ben was lost in admiration of the little Arab chief prancing on the white horse,--all saddled and bridled and fit for the fight.

Thorny poked about to find a certain curious puzzle which he could put together without a mistake after long study.