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WHAT ROBIN. TOLD,
OW do the robins build their nest?
Robin Redbreast told me.
First a wisp of amber hay
In a pretty round they lay,
Then some shreds of downy floss,
Feathers, too, and bits of moss,
Woven with a sweet, sweet song,
This way, that way, and across;
That’s what Robin told me.
Where do the robins hide their nests?
Robin Redbreast told me.
Up among the leaves so deep,
Where the sunbeams rarely creep;
Long before the leaves are gold,
Bright-eyed stars will peep, and see
Baby robins, one, two, three;
That’s what Robin told me.
THREE LITTLE FISHERS.
HIS is the way we catch the fish, we catch the fish,
we catch the fish;
We know quite well how to catch the fish,
We three of a sunny morning.
This is the way we cast the line, we cast the line,
we cast the line:
A stick and a pin and a piece of twine,
We’ve each got a line this morning.
* .
And when we've caught ’em, we cook the fish, we cook the fish,
we cook the fish;
We cook all the fish in a china dish;
But we haven’t a dish this morning.
We don’t catch as many as we could wish,
But we think it’s all the fault of the fish;
Or it may be for want of a proper dish;
But we haven’t caught any this morning.
THE PICNIC.
*¥T’S too horrible!†exclaimed Tip, the Pomeranian dog, indignantly.
* Shows such a want of taste and feeling,†said his friend Budge,
the other pet dog of the family. “The wretched thing came, too,
with a saucepan tied to his tail.â€
* And he now has a ribbon round his neck, and is coming to have
tea with us in the wood this afternoon,†continued Tip, with a growl.
The fact of the matter was, that the two dogs, Tip and Budge, were
exceedingly cross, because another dog had been taken into the household;
and it had come about in this way: Little Maggie, a day or two before,
while out bowling her hoop, had met a poor half-starved doggie, with a tin
saucepan tied to his tail; he looked so hungry and miserable that she car-
ried him home, after taking the saucepan off his tail, so that he could wag
it with pleasure, and begged her Father to let her keep him, and Papa
having said “ Yes,†she and her brother Bob gave the new doggie a supper
and a bath, and combed his hair, tied a ribbon round his neck, called him
Rover, and made him quite handsome and respectable-looking; and, as he
was a very well-behaved little dog, he was to go and have tea with the
children in the wood. Now all this disgusted Tip and Budge, so much
that they would not speak to Rover, and would have liked to have bitten
THE PICNIC.
him, only they dared not; for if they had, they most likely would have been
whipped.
Well, it was a delightful little picnic, although Tip and Budge were
so disagreeable. There were strawberries and cream, cake and biscuits,
and plenty of nice new milk. And it was such a warm, lovely, sleepy sort
of day, with the birds singing in the trees, and the bees humming in the
leaves, that after tea Maggie fell fast asleep; while Bobbie toddled off alone
after the pretty butterflies that he could never catch.
Such a lazy, dreamy sort of a day, that Nurse fell asleep in the nursery,
and it was quite late before she went to the wood to fetch the children home;
and when she did so she could only find Maggie, still asleep; Bobbie was
nowhere to be found. No, although she hunted here, there, and every-
where; and when she and Maggie called “ Bobbie! Bobbie!†only the birds
replied to them, singing in the trees, and the bees humming in the leaves.
Then, oh, dear! there was such a hurry and ascurry. Papa and Mamma,
and Janet, the cook, all came to hunt for Bobbie; and they hunted high, and
they hunted low, but still Bobbie was not to be found; and it was so late
that the birds went home to roost, and the bees flew back to their hives.
But presently they heard a barking in the distance, and then they dis-
covered, for the first time, that Rover was missing too; so they all went in
the direction of the sound, until they came to the further end of the wood,
and there was Rover, seated beside a big hollow tree, barking with all his
might; and inside the hollow tree there lay, cuddled up asleep, little
Master Bobbie. His Father picked him up, and carried him home, when
he was put to bed, and he didn’t know till next morning how anxious he
had made everybody. If it had not been for faithful Rover, Bobbie, very
likely, would have had to sleep in the hollow tree all night.
Tip and Budge felt rather ashamed of themselves for having been
cross to the new doggie, and from that day forth did everything they could
to please him; and, taking them all round, there isn’t a happier family of
children and dogs in the whole world than Maggie and Bobbie, Tip,
Budge, and Rover.
Edric Vredenburg.
A LESSON IN MANNERS.
w OOD-MORNING, Hen,†said Mary;
* Good-morning, Hen,†said she.
“Why don’t you say ‘Good-morning,—
Good-morning, miss,’ to me?â€
“How d’ you do?†said Mary;
“How d’ you do?†said she.
“When I say ‘How d’ you do?’ to you,
Say, ‘How d’ you do?’ to me.†—
“You ‘want an apple,’ do you?
Well, I don’t wish to tease;
But ‘want’ is not good manners;
You should say, ‘If you please’†_
“J think ‘Cluck, cluck’ was what you said;
You don’t call ¢hat polite.
*Cluck, cluck,’ is not the thing to say,
But, ‘Thank you, miss,’ is right.â€
“Good-morning, Hen,†said Mary;
“Good-morning, you may go;
Why don’t you say ‘ Good-morning, —
Good-morning, miss,’ you know?â€
TALE OF A ON):
HAVE a little pony,
| His name is Grenadier;
I got him on my birthday —
I’m six years old this year.
I do not think my pony
Is quite as old as I;
But then he is much longer,
And he is just as high.
I give my pony apples,
He likes them more than hay;
I give him lumps of sugar,
And biscuits every day.
I like to feed and pet him,
He loves me so, you see;
And if Z were the pony,
He’d do as much for me.
THE FROGS, SChOOE
The day was calm and cool,
When forty-five frog-scholars met
Down by a shady pool —
Poor little frogs, like little folk,
Are always sent to school.
a a sun was shining softly,
Their lessons seemed the strangest things —
They learnt that grapes were sour;
They learnt that four-and-twenty days
Exactly made an hour;
That bricks were made of houses,
And corn was made of flour.
As soon as school was over,
The master said, “ No noise!
Now go and play at leap-frogâ€
(The game a frog enjoys),
* And mind that you behave yourselves,
And dowt throw stones at boys!â€
Tide OWEN AS
RIBBON.
HERE was great
excitement at the
Castles. for Aire
Queen’s Grace was com-
ing to hunt, and every-
body was preparing for
the event. All the deer
in the park were to be
started from their quiet
haunts and driven by the
spot where the Queen and
her ladies and gentlemen
would be stationed, so
that they could shoot at
them as they fled past.
Poor little Lady Dorothy, the Earl’s daughter, was in great grief.
Not only did she love all the beautiful dapple-coated creatures, and hated
that they should be slain, but there was one pet doe of which she was
especially fond. It was so tame that it would come to her in the wood-
land dells at her call, and feed out of her hand, and let her pet and caress
it at her will. But now, how was she to save her pet from a cruel fate!
Poor little Dorothy wept bitterly as she thought of it.
Presently the guests arrived, the Queen, riding amid her ladies, all
glittering in silk and jewels, and there was a grand banquet, and after it, as
the Queen sat in her chair of state on the raised dais, the Earl bade his little
daughter come and dance with her Cousin Hugo, before the Queen. And
Dorothy danced so prettily, that the Queen called her to come to her, and
THE QUEEN’S RIBBON.
bent down to kiss her, but in so doing, she saw that Dorothy’s eyes were
wet with tears.
“Why, little maiden,†she said, kindly, * what is the matter? Hath
ought grieved thee?â€
Now this made poor Dorothy’s tears fall fast indeed; but all she
could sob out was, “ My dear, dear little doe! â€
“Your doe?†exclaimed the Queen. “What doth the child
mean?â€
“Please, your Grace,†said Hugo, who was a fearless little fellow,
and loved his cousin very much, “she hath a pet doe among the deer in the
Park, and she fears it will be slain to-morrow in the great hunt.â€
Then the Queen laughed; and, taking from her neck a rich and
beautiful ribbon of green and white silk, she gave it to Dorothy.
“See here,†she said, “think you, you can find your pet in the
morn?â€
“Oh, yes,†said Dorothy. “She comes to the oak glade nearly
always for me to feed her.â€
“Well, then,’ went on the Queen, — “then bind this ribbon firmly
about her neck, and you, my Lord, pee here the Queen turned to the
Earl, who stood behind her chair, — ‘must order that the trumpeters give
warning to all in the hunt, that whoever shall hurt or harm the doe bearing
my ribbon shall fall under my severest displeasure! â€
Very, very early, the next morning, did Dorothy and Hugo steal out,
down to the oak glade, and there they found the gentle creature waiting for
her little mistress. And they bound the ribbon, safe and sure, aroutrd the
doe’s neck; and in all the hunt that day, though many a gallant hart and
hind were slain, not one dare injure the Queen’s doe, as they called it.
On the morrow the Queen departed to go further on the great prog-
ress she was making throughout her kingdom, and as she bade farewell to
her host and hostess, she turned to little Lady Dorothy, and said:
“Will you come to my Court, little maiden, and serve me?â€
“That will I, right joyfully, Madam?†cried Dorothy, who was full
of gratitude.
“Then you must pray the Earl, your father, to bring you, when you
are old enough!†replied the Queen, and meanwhile ask me what you
will.â€
THE QUEEN’S RIBBON.
“Then, please, your Majesty,†said Dorothy, eagerly, “ when I come
to Court, may Hugo come too? â€
“What! always for others?†said the Queen, smiling. “Well, be it
so; Hugo shall come and be my page.â€
So when Dorothy was old enough, the Earl took her to Court, and
the Queen made her one of her Maids of Honor, and none were fairer than
she. And, by and by, she married her Cousin Hugo, and the Queen
granted them, for their coat-of-arms, a doe bearing a ribbon around her
neck, and for a motto, “ Always for others.â€
M. A. Hoyer.
HAPPY “AS, ACKING
S happy as a king is Roy,
When on his Mother’s knee
he “sits;
Far better than a book or toy,
Or even than his cat or kits.
He loves that quiet resting-place;
He loves to feel her gentle kiss;
He loves to gaze into her face,
And feel how sweet a mother is.
She sings him songs, or tells him tales
Of “when she was a girl,†you know;
And with delight that never fails,
Roy hears her talk of “long ago.â€
“Some day,†says Roy, “when I’m a man,
Dear Mother, [ll take care of you;
And every single thing I can,
To please you, I will always do.â€
Helen Marion Burnside.
HILDA’S
MONE Y-BOX.
. AY I open my _ money-box,
Mother?†said Hilda; “I want
to see how much there is in it.â€
“Oh! yes,†answered Mother.
So Hilda got it out of the cupboard,
and opened it, and out poured all the money.
“Oh, what a lot!†exclaimed Hilda; and, indeed, there did seem a
quantity of coins. So many bright new pennies and halfpennies, and so
many dull old ones, and the half-crown Uncle Ned had given her on her
birthday, and three threepenny bits, and a sixpence Grannie had paid her
for working her a nice new kettle-holder.
Hilda spread all the money out on the table and looked at it.
“There will be more than I shall want for the Pets, I am sure,†she
said. “ What shall I do with the rest? â€
“But how many pets are there now?†inquired Mother; “and what
do they cost you?â€
“Well, first,†said Hilda, “there are my dear doves. There are
seven of them, the darlings; but they really have very large appetites. I
must buy them food. And then there is my hen, Xantippe — she is sitting
on nine eges, so I suppose there will be nine chickens, and I expect they
will be tremendously hungry.â€
“Why do you call her Xantippe ?â€
asked Mother, laughing.
“Obl Mother, didn’t 1 tell yourâ€
replied Hilda. “It is because she is always
clucking and squawking in such a scolding
voice, and the week you gave her to me I
read in my history at school about’ a poor
man called Socrates; he was very wise, and
used to ask people dreadful puzzling ques-
tions; but he had such a cross wife, who |
was always scolding him and talking at
HILDA’S MO NEY-BOX.
him. SoI thought my hen was rather like her, and I gave her the name,
and she knows it quite well, and seems to like it. Well, there will be corn
to buy for her, and then there are Topsie and Flopsie.â€
“The kittens!†exclaimed Mother. ‘Surely,
they don’t cost you anything.â€
“Oh! yes, they do,†said Hilda, nodding. “At
least not Topsie, but Flopsie does. Martha was going
to drown Flopsie, and I thought it so sad for Topsie to
be all alone, with no one to play with, — just like me,
without any brothers or sisters,— and I begged her to
spare Flopsie’s life. But Martha said she couldn’t keep
such a lot of cats, they would drink so much milk. Then I promised I
would pay her a penny a week for Flopsie, and I owe her six weeks. But
still I shall have a lot of money left.â€
“Iam going to walk over to the town this afternoon,†said Mother,
“to do some shopping, and you can go with me. And if you like you shall
buy some wool and some pins, and I will teach you how to knit a pair of
baby’s shoes! â€
“But what is the use of knitting baby’s shoes, when we haven’t gota
baby?†asked Hilda, in a disconsolate voice.
“One never knows,†said Mother. “The angels might bring us a
baby, or if they didn’t bring it to us they may take one to somebody else,
and you could give it your shoes.â€
“So I could!†cried Hilda. ‘Oh, yes, Mother, thank you. I would
like to do that very much.â€
So Hilda went with her Mother to the shop, and bought some pretty
white and pink wool, and a pair of shining knitting-pins, and Mother taught
her how to make the baby’s shoes. It was rather difficult at first, but she
was a patient little girl, and took pains, and at last the shoes were finished.
“They look rather limp,†thought Hilda, as she gazed at them, stand-
ing side by side on the table. “Oh! I wish a dear little baby would come
and put them on!â€
And, strange to say, that very night the angels came silently flying
down with a soft little bundle in their arms, and the next time Hilda’ saw
her shoes, they were limp no longer, for inside each was a dear, fat little
baby’s foot, and best of all, the baby itself was the darling little sister she
had so greatly longed for. M. A. Hoyer.
MANNERS.
ANNERS, manners! one at a time!
And all the rest of you wait;
I can’t let all of you drink at once,
Or you would upset the plate.
I was always taught to wait my turn,
When I was little, like you;
I had to learn many difficult things;
And yowll have too learn them too.
So don’t be tiresome and make a fuss,
You'll all of you get your turn;
And waiting is one of the hardest things
A puppy-dog has to learn.
OUR SECRET.
E’VE a secret or two,
: \) V But we'll tell it to you —
You must never tell it again.
We found it to-day,
When we went to play
In the little wood by the lane.
They cheeped and cried
When we looked inside,
And each opened a gaping beak;
And we’d lots to say,
If we’d known the way
That little bird-babies speak.
We offered them bread,
But each shook its head —
‘They knew that the food was wrong;
But they weren’t afraid,
Although we stayed
And talked to them ever so long.
When the mother-bird comes, - Till they fly away,
She won’t give them crumbs, We'll go every day
But an ant, or beetle, or fly. And peep at the mossy nest;
They’re sad all alone; And I’m sure they won’t mind,
When our mother is gone, And we'll always be kind
We are lonely — and sometimes cry! To your babies, dear Specklebreast.
‘It’s a beautiful nest :
Mother Specklebreast
Has five little birdies inside;
Such baby things,.
With tiny wings, —
And yellow beaks, open widel
A SAD MISHAP.
T’S very kind to leave behind
For me that cosey shelter.
In growing old, Pve got a cold,
And, oh! the rain does pelt a
Fellow so,†croak’d father Frog.
“How sore my throat is getting;
It must have been that fog, I ween,
That gave me such a wetting.â€
Then, just as he slept cosily,
A sad mishap befell: a
Boy came by, and shouted, “ Hi!
Here’s Mother’s lost umbrella!â€
NEE Ae Wigs NiO AOlGES:
WO very tiny children
came with their parents
to live in a cottage
which stood in a sort of glen
up among the hills. It was
a very pretty place, though
rather lonely; but this the
children did not mind. Their
Father was out at work all
day, and their Mother had
much to do at home; where,
besides all the housework and
. the cooking,
~ after the cow and the pig, and
and the looking
the cocks and hens, she had
the baby to mind. For the
baby was still tinier than its
brother and sister. It could
not yet talk or walk, or do anything but lie smiling; and sometimes, I dare-
say, crying a little in its cradle, or in its Mother’s arms.
So the two elder children had to play about a good deal by them-
selves. There was no help for it, for their Mother knew it would not be
good for them to keep them all day beside her in the small rooms of the
cottage, nor even quite close at hand. They needed to run about, to climb
and scramble, and tumble and play, like all little animals, in order that they
should grow strong and active, and sturdy.
But sometimes she could not help feeling a little anxious, for they
were only very tiny, and till now they had lived in a town, and there had
been no question of their playing about, out of sight.
“You'll be very good, dears; don’t stray away from each other, and
don’t get to quarrelling. Quarrelling always leads to mischief,†she would
often say, as she tied their hats on, and fastened their little jackets.
THE FAIRY WITH TWO VOICES.
And, “Yes, Mother, we’ll be good,†the small pair would reply.
And for some time when they came home again their talk would be
all of the birds they had heard singing, or the flowers they had plucked, of
how the little breok went chattering over the stones, and a squirrel darted
up a tree, just as they had caught sight of his fine bushy tail.
But after a while their Mother heard them talking in a way she could
not understand; sometimes it was what they said to her, more often
snatches of talk between themselves which she overheard. And at last she
grew uneasy, and said to her husband she trusted there was nothing
“uncanny †up there in the woods where Dirk and Molly were so fond of
wandering.
“Why should you think so? †he asked.
“From their talk,†she replied. “They say such strange things about
some one they see, or at least talk with, up there. To-day they came run-
ning home all beaming with smiles. ‘We've bee: good,’ they said; ‘so good
and happy. So good and so happy, she said so. But two days ago they
looked sad, and their eyes were tearful, and I heard them at night crying by
themselves, and Dirk said to Molly, ‘I won’t shout naughty at you any more,
and then she won’t say ’'m naughty, will she, sister?’ â€
“Well, well,†said the Father, “whoever it is, it’s no one who teaches
them any harm, seemingly. It may be just their ov'n fancies. Can’t you ask
them who it is?â€
“T have asked them,†said the Mother. “But they only seemed
puzzled. ‘She lives up there,’ is all they can say, and ‘she has two voices
— one for good Dirk and good Molly, and one for naughty Dirk and naughty
Molly.†And when they said ‘ naughty,’ they seemed like to cry. I was afraid
of upsetting them, and I thought I’d wait and ask you what you thought.â€
“We must see,†said the Father. “It is not always well to meddle
too closely with children’s fancies; we must see.â€
For he was a wise man, and he had not yet forgotten his own child-
hood.
But the next day the children looked so downcast and sad when they
_came home that their Mother could not but ask them what was wrong.
Bursting into tears, they threw themselves into her arms.
“Oh! Mother, dear,†they cried, “we have been so naughty; and
she — she won’t love us any more — she said so!â€
THE FAIRY WITH TWO VOICES.
“Who is ‘she’? dears. Whom are you speaking of? Is it some
one who lives near us?â€
The children looked at each another, ane oe anaes round. :
“Don’t tell, Mammy,†they whispered; “it’s a secret. We asked her
if it was, and she called back to us, ‘A secret!’ “ance a Fairy, Mother, like
the fairies in the woods you’ve told us pretty stories of.’ “We asked her
that too, ‘Are you a Fairy?’ and she called back, ‘A Fairy!’†said Dirk.
“And she has two voices, a good and a naughty one, for when we
are good and naughty,†added Molly. “But to-day she said ‘ naughty,’ and
she called, ‘I don’t love you!’†and again Molly’s tears burst forth.
A light dawned upon their Mother.
“Mayn’t I talk to the Fairy too?†she said. “I don’t think she’d be
angry. Let us go and see.â€
And soon they were all climbing up the glen, baby, too, — of course,
baby could not be left alone at home,— till they came near to where the
Fairy lived.
“Ask her, Dirk,†said Mother, softly,—“ask her if Mother may
come too!†Dirk ran on a few steps, and his clear, childish voice rang
out shrilly:
“Fairy, may Mother come Sool 2
“ Mother come too,†came the answer, in softer tones.
Dirk ran back overjoyed.
“Yes, yes!†he cried. “The Fairy says Mother may come too.â€
He dragged his Mother by the skirt. She was quick and ready, and
she saw that the children’s pretty Fairy might be turned to good account.
“Fairy, kind Fairy,†she said, “ Dirk and Molly were naughty this
morning.â€
“ Naughty this morning,†agreed the voice.
“ But they are sorry now.â€
“ Sorry now.â€
“Will you forgive them? â€
“Forgive them,†replied the sweet tones.
“They will not quarrel any more, but will love each other yell: B
“ Love each other well.â€
“You will love them, if they are good?â€
“Love them, if they are good.â€
THE FAIRY WITH TWO VOICES.
Mother looked at the children. Their eyes were sparkling.
“How nice the Fairy speaks to Mother,†they said. “She says so
“many words.â€
“ And all in her pretty voice,†added Molly.
Then Mother turned to go home again, for baby must be put to
sleep.
“JT will leave you here to play, dears,†she said. “The Fairy will
always answer you in her kind voice, unless she hears you speaking un-
kindly and roughly to each other.â€
“We won’t, we won’t, dear Mother,†they said. “Thank you, for
asking her to forgive us.â€
And I think it was very seldom, if ever again, that Fairy Echo spoke
to the children, other than softly and lovingly.
Louisa Molesworth.
WHAT SHALL 1
CARE WOU 2
s HAT shall I catch you,
Kind sir, or sweet madam?
Would you buy sword-fish,
Or pike, if I had ’em?
Wiha chal caren «you —
A dog-fish or cat-fish,
A shark or a mermaid,
A round fish or flat fish?â€
“What shall you catch me?
Well, sword-fish might fight me;
Your shark or your. pike, lad,
I’m fearful, would bite me.
“Vd rather you’d catch me
A sea-urchin bonnie,
As merry, as brown, as
Your sweet self, my sonnie!â€
WHAT SHALL I CATCH YOU?
SAY, PLEASE, DAISY.
OME, Daisy dear, say, “If you
C please; â€
Come, ask me nicely, do!
You ought to be polite to
folks
When they’re polite to you.
I ran into our meadow, dear,
Directly school was done,
And picked these pretty flowers
for you;
Yes, Daisy, every one!
You can’t say “please,†poor
darling!
Well, never mind, don’t try;
Here, take the pretty buttercups,
And thank me by and by.
APRIL.
HERE have you been,
Little Christine?
Picking a posy
In meadows green?
Run away home,
Don’t stay and roam,
Mother is waiting, little Christine!
Little you ween Quick! ere the rain
What April days mean; Wet you again,
\ Ask your dear mother, Quick o’er the bridge
My little Christine. And up through the lane.
She has April showers, Mother will fret
Many long, lonely hours, Ifyou get wet;
But you are her sunshine, Run along, run along,
My little Christine. Up through the lane!
a
TWO LITTLE MICE.
HERE were two little mice,—two gray little mice
(Not those of the nursery clock),
Who, once on a time, if there’s truth in a rhyme,
Did “diccory, diccory, dock.â€
These were gzte other mice,—one foolish, one wise;
Ay, one, dear, was wiser by far
Than the other, who went—on marauding bent —
Round the rim of a blue china jar.
For he sat on a shelf by his own little self,
And squeaked, “Little brother, it’s plain —
There — just as I said, gone—heels over head !
He will ne’er go a-hunting again.â€
BLUEBEARD S| BEOEBEELS.
T was a strange thing, but the very flowers we wanted
most for Mamma’s birthday were the bluebells which
erew in “ Bluebeard’s†wood! His real name was
Hungerford; but we always called him “ Bluebeard,â€
not that he had murdered any wives, that we knew
of; in fact, we did not know anything about him, ex-
cept that he lived in an enormous red house, quite
away from the village, and was very severe about let-
be ting people into his woods.
It was last Spring, when Mamma was so ill, that
we were staying in this little village, which was so tiny, that it only had
one crooked street in it, and the only shop—that could be called a shop
—was the butcher’s. The real shops were a long way off, and we had to
go by train to them, so that it was impossible to get Mamma a birthday
present without letting her know it.
‘We can only give her flowers,†I said to Gerald and Daisy. “
I
do wish we could make friends with that keeper, and ask him to let us into
the wood!â€
5
“But, Molly, we can get lilat—†said Daisy, who cannot speak
plainly yet.
“Lilac! Yes,I know; but we have brought Mamma lilac twice from
the farm; there is nothing sfecza/ in that.â€
“Let’s try again, in old ‘ Bluebeard’s’ wood,†cried Gerald; “ perhaps
‘the poacher won’t turn us away this time.â€
Gerald would call the mana poacher; but he was, I am sure, some
kind of keeper, to prevent people breaking the trees in the plantations.
Mamma, at any rate, thinks so.
“No, Gerald,†I said. “If we were to get into that fenced-in part,
we should be stealing. â€
* Pooh!†answered he. “Just a g7r/’s excuse, when she’s afraid!â€
On the birthday morning, just as we sat down to breakfast in the
BLUEBEARD’S BLUEBELLS.
nursery, Daisy came running in, quite excitedly, with the news that Mr.
Hungerford was ill. Nurse had heard it. 3
“What! old ‘Bluebeard’ ?†said Gerald.
“Yes,†replied Daisy, nodding her head, mischievously.
“ All right! Now we can get his bluebells, without being found out.â€
And Gerald looked at me in a daring way, because he knew that I thought
it wrong; and Daisy thought so too, only she was not brave enough to say
so to Gerald.
We made haste over breakfast, and stole out of the house, — so that
Mamma should not hear us, —taking our two little dogs, “ Mona†and
“Leo,†with us; but leaving old Nero at home in his kennel, because we
thought the keeper would be more cross with a big dog than with little
ones, if he should meet us, and reached the wood without meeting any one,
except some very timid country children.
“Come along, Molly!†cried Gerald to me, beginning to scramble
over the fence. “What are you afraid of ?â€
“Nothing; but Daisy and I are going to try and find the keeper.
He will be kind, if we tell him it is Mamma’s birthday. â€
“ Z shan’t wait!†returned Gerald. :
“Well, take care that a big policeman does not come and carry you
otf, Gerald, for you're trespassing.â€
Just at that moment a young man, with a very laughing face, passed
us.
“TIulloa, youngsters! what
are you doing here?†he said,
stopping suddenly.
Daisy fell behind me, she is
such a timid little mite, and Gerald
turned very pale, and jumped off
the fence. I was very much afraid;
but I answered him directly.
“We want some of cross
old Mr. Hungerford’s bluebells,
just a few for Mamma’s birthday,
to surprise her. We are waiting
to see the keeper, to ask him to allow us—â€
BLUEBEARD'S BLUEBELLS.
“Oh, cross old Mr. Hungerford, eh? Doesn’t he like you in his
woods?â€
“No,†I said; “he’s a very strict old man about children.â€
He burst out laughing.
“We call him ‘ Bluebeard,’†said
Gerald, boldly, now that the danger seemed
passed.
“So, ho! is that what you call him?
You had better not let him hear yous here
is the keeper, look!â€
The man whom Gerald called the
poacher came across the road, touching
his cap to our new companion.
“Steele, these children wish to gather
wild flowers in these woods,†he said.
“There is no objection, I suppose?†The
ferocious-looking man eyed us all, sternly.
“Well, no, sir; and them little dogs
they’ve got, too?â€
“ Certainly, the little dogs— they can
do no harm.†The man touched his cap
again, and went away.
“Oh, thank you, for asking!†I said.
“Come along, children! I will show you where the bluest grow.â€
“There are no shops in the village, although we had thought of
three presents for Mamma,†said Gerald, as we walked along.
“And what were they?†inquired our new friend.
“ A penknife, a key-ring, or a diary-book,†answered Gerald. “ But
Mamma is much better for the change of air; we’ve been here two months.â€
“Indeed!†said the stranger, and then he pointed to a bank in the
distance which was quite blue with flowers.
“I hope Mr. Hungerford won’t be angry with the keeper for letting
us in,†I said. “Do you think he will? He’s such a cross old man.â€
“Oh, no,†he’s not such a griffin as all that; well, good-by, chil-
dren,†he answered, and, waving his hand, he disappeared.
We had gathered an enormous bunch of bluebells, and were return-
BLUEBEARD’S BLUEBELLS.
ing home, when we met Nurse coming to fetch us, so we ran to show her
our flowers, with triumph.
“My! that is a fine bunch!†she exclaimed.
We found Mamma waiting for us with eagerness.
“Children,†she said, there issome mystery; look at this!†and she
held up an immense bouquet of the loveliest hot-house flowers you can
imagine.
There was a card with it, on which was written:
“From Bluebeard.â€
“T know!†cried Gerald, “that was ‘ Bluebeard’ himself who took us
in the wood for the flowers.â€
Bluebeard — and we never knew it! Yes,now that I come to think,
it must have been he.
So we told Mamma all about our exciting adventure over her birth-
day breakfast, and although she was so delighted with ‘ Bluebeard’sâ€
bouquet, she seemed to care for ours the most.
S. Emily Bennett.
PEE
NAUGHTY
DOLLY.
OW, Dolly, sit still,
if you please,
You’ve done enough
harm for to-day;
And it’s no use your pout-
ing, my dear,
And saying it all was
in play.
You upset the ink—yes—you did;
You tore your new frock, and you said,
“Don’t care,’?—whenI said I’d a mind
To whip you and put you to bed.
You wore your best shoes in the mud,
And stole the jam tarts, I suppose;
That, that’s why your hand has come off,
And why you will turn in your toes.
Your hair is as rough as can be,
Your pinafore’s fastened with twine;
I’m sure there was never before
So naughty a Dolly as mine.
THE NAUGHTY DOLLY.
If you really wont do as I wish,
I fear—yes—I very much fear
I must get a new doll from the shop,
And let Zhe Boys have you, my dear.
No, no—I don’t mean it— don’t scream !
The oys shall not have you, my pet;
Don’t cry any more, there’s a dear !
Pll try to forgive and forget.
Pll wash you, and then you shall wear
A gown that will cover your feet;
Let your hands hang behind you, and then
You will look quite genteel! and complete.
And Pll make you a beau-
tiful swing,
Wath the “hel ot. the
back of a chair;
And Pll never let any one
know
Ilow exceedingly naugh-
ty you were.
|
{
|
THE HOSPIPABLE HOSTESS.
ES, certainly, Tim! Pm delighted;
Whatever there is you may share;
There’s not very much, as it happens,
But I heartily wish that there were !
Oh! Tabbykins, don’t be so_ horrid,
You greedy, unsociable cat!
Now, don’t arch up your back so crossly;
You look very ugly, like that.
If you can’t behave nicely, my kitten,
You'll have to be sent up to bed;
It’s shameful of you to be angry
That .a poor fellow-creature is fed.
Don’t mind her, dear Tim, I implore you!
She’s not at all what I could wish;
Come, begin! What? Oh, dear me, I am sorry
There’s nothing to eat in the dish!
THE PROUD LESSON-BOOK.
ee OME, come, sleepy head, wake up!â€
cried the Lesson-book to the old
Rag-doll. “Gracious me, how you
empty heads sleep, to be sure. Wake up! I
‘want to teach somebody; I know everything! â€
So the Rag-doll raised her poor old
body, and sat up as well as she could, consid-
ering how battered and bruised she was from
Baby’s usage.
Well, dear, what is it?†she said,
thinking Baby was calling her.
“Do not address me so familiarly, Madam. Recollect I am a Lesson-
book, and accustomed to be treated with respect. What is the capital of
Turkey: @
Now, the Rag-doll knew nothing whatever of lessons, but she did
know how to be kind and obliging; so she puckered up her poor old fore-
head, and thought and thought.
© Turkey — is it Plum-pudding?†she asked, hesitatingly.
Plum-pudding! that’s just like you nursery folks, always thinking
of eating and drinking. Perhaps you know who was the first King of Eng-
land? â€
‘King Cole, of course,†cried the Rag-doll, quite sure she was right
this time.
“No, ma’am; wrong! wrong!! wrong!!!â€
The Rag-doll was completely bewildered; she was far too polite to
contradict the Lesson-book, who knew everything; besides, he was frowning
and rustling his leaves at her in the most alarming manner.
* Come, come, sir,†cried Nursery Rhymes, stepping out of the toy-
cupboard, “suppose we ask you a few questions! Who killed Cock-
Robin? â€
© Never heard of such a person,†said the Lesson-book, pertly.
“Why, the Sparrow,†said the Rag-doll.
AUGUST.
** And who rode to Banbury?â€
“Tm sure I don’t know ‘Who rode to Banbury?’†repeated the Les-
son-book, as if that would help him.
Oh, I know that too,†whispered the Rag-doll.
“Come, sir,†went on Nursery Rhymes, “ Who rode to Banbury?
Who was Red Riding-Hood? And how many Blackbirds did they put in
the pier ¢ :
“ Say four-and-twenty,†whispered the Rag-doll, who was quite dis-
tressed to see how stupid and foolish the Lesson-book looked.
* Ah, I see you don’t know everything, after all; you don’t even know
your A, B, C, not half as well as the Rag-doll; you’re a bit too proud of
your learning, Mr. Lesson-book.â€
L. Haskell,
AUGUST.
UGUST’S a sweet little child of eight;
Her hain as. colden, 71 bess to state.
You may see her on any sunny morn
Hiding amidst the golden corn;
With cheeks of rosy hue so
sweet,
Just like the poppies that grow
in the wheat;
Her eyes of the deepest corn-
flower blue, —
Ym quite in love with the
dear
aren’t you?
Robert Ellice Mack.
THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN WHO FLEW SO HIGH.
N a very lovely country there once lived a little Princess who found fault
with everybody, and wanted to set everything to rights. She bustled
and fidgeted about until things were altered to her liking, and, as she
had very sharp eyes and persisted in wearing strong spectacles beside, she
was a ereat trial to her royal parents, and indeed to all the court. She
would declare that the King’s crown and sceptre were insufficiently polished,
and would insist on scrubbing them herself with some wonderful new patent
plate-powder, which did not tend to improve their lustre, and usually
loosened the jewels. She stopped half the clocks in the palace by looking
too energetically after their works. So old-fashioned was she in her ways
and her dress that the pages used to call her “The Little Old Woman,â€
and would mimic her walk and her manners when the King and Queen
were not looking.
One evening, after Princess Perniquita had retired to her bedroom
and dismissed her maids, she sat down by the open window to think over
“all the things that would require her attention on the morrow.
Below lay the palace rose-garden with its steps and terraces of white
THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN WHO FLEW SO_ HIGH.
marble shining in the moonlight; and the night air was full of the scent or
the blossoms.
The full moon hung like a
silver lamp in the dark blue sky, and
Perniquita looked up at it wondering
how far off it was and how it was kept
bright.
“Dear, dear me!†she said.
“What careless people they must be
who have charge of the moon! Cob-
webs all over it! If only I could get
at it!â€
Just then she felt something soft
and furry rubbing against her check.
It was the cat, Alexander, who was
trying to attract her attention.
Now Alexander was by no
means an ordinary cat. He was of
ancient descent and great intelligence;
and had belonged, moreover, to the
Queen’s Fairy Godmother.
“J will tell you how to get at
it, Princess,†he said; “that is, if you
are guile sure it is dusty, and really
want to clean it.â€
“Sure, of course I am sure;
and I want to,†replied Perniquita,
snappishly.
“Very well, your Highness,â€
said Alexander; “if you will gra-
ciously condescend to pluck out three
white hairs from the extreme tip of
my tail, and then step into the linen-
basket, we will begin at once. Only remember that the charm is rather a
strong one, and I should not be surprised, indeed, if you went up eighteen
or nineteen times as high as the moon at first.â€
THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN WHO FLEW SO_ HIGH.
“Dear me!†said the Princess, looking slightly alarmed.
“Oh, never mind,†said Alexander, waving his paw reassuringly;
-“drop one of the white hairs when you want to be brought down lower —
only remember that the last one is to bring you home again, and be careful
not to lose it.â€
So Perniquita got a small broom, and then helped Alexander to place
the clothes-basket outside the window on the sill. Then she scrambled into
it, grasping tightly the three white hairs and closing her eyes, while
Alexander repeated in a low voice some words which sounded like
“ Crambambuli, Crambambulo.â€
And then she felt herself going up like a shooting star reversed, so
quickly that it almost took her breath away; and when she stopped the moon
lay right down below her, glimmering like a little white pearl in deep water.
So she dropped one of the white hairs, and the basket began to sink
again. When it stopped she was still a long way above the moon, so she
dropped another; and when the basket stopped once more, she was very
much annoyed, for instead of a great silver lamp with cobwebs all over it,
she found that the moon was a large round place with high mountains upon
it. It was these she had taken for cobwebs.
She could have cried out of sheer vexation. As she looked still
mose closely she saw a man in a leather suit, with a bill-hook in his hand
and a bundle of sticks on his shoulders, standing on the topmost peak of the
tallest hill.
“What do you want here?†he shouted at length. “Go home; go
back again. I don’t want you, | won’t have you here! Who are you, any
way?†:
“{— I—JI am the Princess Perniquita,†she stammered, taken aback
for the first time in her life. “And I only came up to see if I couldn’t doa
little cleaning.†But this seemed only to infuriate the Man in the Moon.
His face became the color of burnished copper. “I won’t permit
it!†he cried. “Go, Princess Pryeverywhere, or whatever your name is, go
--home. Cleaning, indeed! Meddling and interfering!†So saying he de-
scended the mountain on the other side, and was soon lost to sight.
The poor little Princess, now feeling thoroughly abashed, ‘dropped
the last hair, and in less than a moment found herself, basket and all, on the
window-sill of her own room, with Alexander beside her. She looked at
ee eee aT
THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN WHO FLEW SO_ HIGH.
him reproachfully, but said nothing; neither did he; but he closed his great
yellow eyes until they looked like mere narrow slits in his face, and began
to purr.
And so it was that Princess Perniquita was cured, once and for all,
of her meddlesome and irritating ways, and every one came to like her very _
much indeed.
She told her parents of her curious adventure, and there was a pop-
ular song written about it, which exists to this day, and runs as follows:
There was an old woman tossed up in a basket,
Nineteen times as high as the moon;
Where she was going to, I couldn’t but ask it,
For in her hand she carried a broom.
“Old woman, old woman, old woman,†quoth I,
“O whither, O whither, O whither so high?â€
“To brush the cobwebs off the sky!â€
“Shall 1 go up with thee?†“Aye, by. and by.â€
G. FR. Tomson.
THE INVITATION.
OME down, you pretty puss, come
ee
down !
Why do you wave your tail and
groan ?
We only want a word or two,
Dear, pretty, charming cat, with you.â€
“No, thank you, doggies, go away!
I shan’t come down at all to-day;
I know what dreadful things you do
To cats who come and talk to you.
** My sister’s husband’s cousin’s
niece
Was saved from you by the
police;
She told me, and I’m sure it’s
true,
I'd better keep away from
you.â€
A NY
YEAR'S SONG.
UMMER gone, Winter comes,—
S Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.
Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.
All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children’s eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.
We may see how all things are,
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies’ looks,
In the picture story-books.
How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?
BUNNIES’ MEAT.
AID Bunny Jack to Bunny Jill,
“Are those things good to eat?â€
Said Bunny Jill, “They’ll make us ill; face
They’re not like Bunnies’ meat.†woe
A Squirrel, peering from the brake,
Behind these Bunnies two,
Laughed “Ha-ha-ha! how wise you are!
f’ll taste the meat for you.â€
Said Bunny Jack and Bunny Jill,
“You really are too sweet;
But if you would just be so good
As just to taste the meat.â€
“ Delighted, friends, I’m sure
—no, thanks â€â€”
Quoth Squg, in
tones;
honeyed
Then closed an eye,
that Squirrel
shy,
And nibbled up
the cones!
TOBY S TALE.
WAS a gay fox-terrier dog,
And hunted every day;
I hunted every living thing
That chanced to run my way.
Until one’ day to the seaside It was a creepy-crawly thing
The children made me go; . That sideways hurried past;
It is a salt and sandy place, I thought it was a thing to hunt,
Where dreadful creatures grow. Because it went so fast.
I sniffed it as it hurried by,
I touched it with my toes;
And, quick as thought, it raised a claw,
And held me by the nose.
The children parted nose and crab; Since then I am an altered dog,
That parting, who can paint? I sit at home and sigh;
They carried me the two miles home, I dare not even hunt a snail,
Because I was so faint. So coward a thing am I!
WAHERE JHE FAIRIES†HIDE.
OCK was very happy that day. Claire, his little cousin, had come to
J spend it with him, and, after dinner, they ran down to the wood,
which skirted the bottom of the home-field.
Such a pretty wood it was, with the smooth, gray stems of the
beech-trees rising up out of the moss and fern, and spreading their boughs
overhead like a roof; but there was one tree in particular that Jock loved
best.
“Look here, Claire,†he cried, “this tree is hollow; just peep
ane
And Claire peeped in; but could not see very much.
“Uncle Tom says,†whispered Jock, “that the fairies hide in that,
and that sometimes he can see them. And more than that, he says he
can hear them, and that they tell him the stories he tells us; and he can tell
jolly stories.â€
“T can hear,†said Claire, slowly, “sort of humming, and — a whis-
pering — but I can’t hear any words.â€
“No; no more can I,†said Jock. “Uncle says it is because
I haven’t cut my wisdom teeth; but I shan’t do that till ’m a big
man.â€
“Oh, do tell me one of his stories!†said Claire, suddenly. “Let
us sit down here on this lovely moss, and you tell it me.â€
“1 dont know .at) [ cani2 dnswered Jock: “ but. Vil try. Wil
tell you the one he told us last week, about “The Ungrateful
Rrinces::?
“Once upon a time, there was a King, and he had two children,
— Prince Kraft and Princess Liebchen. But the King was dying, and
he called the children to his bedside, and bade them be good and
love one another, and be obedient to his brother, their Uncle, who
would rule over the kingdom till they were old enough to govern it
themselves.
WHERE THE FAIRIES HIDE.
“But the Uncle was a cruel Urcle. He wanted to be King
himself, so when his brother was dead, he thought over all the ways
in which he might get rid of
his Nephew and Niece; but he
didn’t know how to manage it, be-
cause all the people were so fond
of them. So he consulted an old
Witch, and she told him she could
make a drink of herbs, which
would quite alter anybody who
drank it, so that they would
scarcely be recognized by their
nearest relations; and he promised
her a great purse full of gold when
she brought it to him. One day
he called to the children to come
to him, and there he showed them
two little silver cups, full of some-
thing that smelt deliciously. ‘See,’
he said, ‘what this kind woman
has brought you for a_ birthday
treat. Just taste this lovely stuff’
“It tasted most delicious,
and the children drank it up; but
after they had done so, it had the most wonderful effect on them. For
Princess Liebchen grew more lovely than ever, but Prince Kraft shrivelled
up into an ugly, wizened, little Dwarf. ‘Oh, Brother!’ shrieked the
Princess, ‘what have they done to you ?’
“*TH take the boy,’ said the old Witch to the Uncle, ‘and say he is
my grandson; but what will you do with the girl?’ ‘VIl put her in the
prison tower,’ said the Uncle. And so he did, and then he made himself
King. So the poor little Princess sat up in the prison tower. But she was
so good and sweet, that her jailers grew very fond of her, and at last they
helped her to escape. But she had to disguise herself. She took off her
little crown, and put on a cap, and a peasant maiden’s dress. She wandered
about a long time, getting shelter and food here and there from kind people,
WHERE THE FAIRIES HIDE.
till, one evening, she came to a little house, and knocked at the door. Pres-
ently a window opened, and a queer old creature in a hood, with streaming
gray hair, looked out. Now, this old creature was the Witch, and she
knew the Princess at once, so she opened the door, and there was the
wizened Dwarf, and Liebchen knew it
was her brother. She ran up to him, and
kissed him, and said how she longed to help
him. ‘Do you really want to help him?’
asked the Witch, who had begun to be
angry with the Uncle for not giving her
more reward. ‘Oh, yes!’ answered the
Princess. ‘And will you give anything
you have?’ ‘Of course I will!’ said
Liebchen. ‘Then, first, ] must have your
hair ;? and the Witch snipped off Lieb-
chen’s golden hair in a trice. ‘And, now, I
must have your eyes.’ ‘* My eyes!’ faltered
the Princess. ‘Oh! must I be blind?’
‘Oh, please do, Liebchen!’ cried Kraft.
‘If you love me, you will. It is so horrid
to be an ugly little Dwarf, like this. So
the poor little Princess Liebchen let them
take her lovely eyes, and then she was
blind. But her brother was a_ beautiful
Prince, once more; so off they set together,
to go back to the city.
“But, alas deo Prince, WWratt shad: a
black spot in his heart. He soon began
to get tired of taking care of his poor little blind sister. Then he looked
at her, and thought how ugly she looked, with her cropped hair and
blinded eyes. ‘O Kraft!’ said Liebchen, presently, ‘I am so tired; I
must sit down.’ ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am sure you must be. You rest here,
and [’ll run on and try and find a horse for you to ride.’ And Liebchen sat
waiting, till she was cold and hungry. Then she tried to walk; but she
couldn’t see, and she tripped and tumbled. She called ‘Kraft! Kraft!
Kraft!’ but no one answered, and at last she could go no farther. She
WHERE THE FAIRIES HIDE.
would have wept, but she had no eyes to weep with, and her heart
ached as if it would burst, and then all grew dark, and at last she fell
sound asleep.
“ Now, near there, a Hermit lived, and one mor ning he went into the
wood, and there he saw a maiden lying asleep. He tried to wake her, but he
could not; so he laid her in a tomb in his little chapel. And he wondered
so much at her beauty, that, being clever, he carved a statue of her, and
placed it over her tomb. Meantime, the wicked Prince had been made
King, and forgot all about his sister, till one day, while out hunting, he
came to the chapel, and went in, just out of curiosity. But as he did so, he
gave a great cry, for there he saw a figure carved in white stone, — the
figure of Liebchen. He caught hold of the tomb, and behold, as_ his
hand touched the stone, from beneath the half-veiled lids sprang out two
tiny springs of clearest water, and, mingling, rippled over the chapel floor to
the green sward outside. And all knew they were the tears of the for-
saken maiden, burst forth at the touch of the cruel brother’s hand.â€
M. A. Hoyer.
Hi, hi, you pussy, fly !
The other dogs and I
Will get you into training,
now,
THE CHASE.
T’S very wrong, we know,
To chase a pussy so,
But, oh! it is a merry thing
To see that pussy go!
She is the favorite cat;
Well, dear me, what of that?
It ought to do the favorite good;
She’s
much too round and fat.
Or know the reason why!
Hark, forward! hi, away !
Why she’s got out of reach in the hay;
Come out, come out, you silly puss:
Don’t you know it was only play?
HE POOR
DOLLY
Y dolly was young and _ fair,
With beautiful flaxen hair,
And all her things could take off and on,
And she had real shoes to wear.
She was made by the toy-shop man,
Her body was stuffed with bran,
And she could open and shut her eyes;
And none of Jane’s dollies can.
And I lent her to Jane one day,
While I went in the garden to play;
And when Jane wasn’t looking, the cat and dog
Both happened to pass that way.
The story’s too sad to tell
In the kind of words I can spell;
But the picture will tell you better than I;
Or, at any rate, just as well.
ONG EAE SANDS.
HERE were three little crabs who
met together,
And asked of themselves the ques-
tion whether, —
Whether it was right the children should
play
On the rocks and sands of Roughwater
Bay.
Said one who was dressed in a suit of drab,
“JT give you my word as an honest Crab,
Why, one hasn’t a moment’s peace of mind,
You’re certain the children are close behind.
“They bring down their buckets and spades and nets;
That’s all the return and the thanks one gets
For letting them play their games on the shore;
I declare Pil ‘let them. do: it no more.
No doubt he’d have been as good as his word,
A crab’s an obstinate fellow, [ve heard;
But the children came that very minute
With a wooden pail and put him in it.
Cite DREADEUL SECRET
OF WILL-O’-THE-WISP.â€
OME here, Effie! I’ve a great secret !†said Barbara.
“What is it?†answered Effie.
“Will you promise me, truly and truly, never to
tellinâ€
ee Yes.â€
“Well, Pve had an accident with Mamma’s old
story-book!â€
“Oh, Barbara! whatever have you done? â€
“TI blotted a page; but I’ve cut it out so that
no one will ever know. But you are so remembering in everything, that I
was afraid you would miss it, so that’s why I’ve told you the secret.â€
“But —†began Effie.
“ But what ?â€
“But why not go and confess it to Mamma, at once? She will
forgive you. She always does if we tell her the truth.â€
Barbara turned very red in the face; but it was not altogether
cowardice, and the dread of. a scolding, which made her look so guilty,
“as will presently be seen.
* Do tell her!†urged Effie, to whom hiding anything from Mother
was dreadful, as it always is to good children. Barbara turned sulky.
“J wish,†said she, “that I hadn’t told you anything about it now,
for I believe you will go and tell of me to Mamma.†a
“No, Barbara, for have I not promised to keep your secret?†an-
swered Effie, reproachfully. |
“Hush!†returned her sister, quickly, “here’s Uncle George; how
early he’s come!â€
the children rushed into his open arms, and clung so round him, that he
could scarcely walk across to the fireside.
“THE DREADFUL SECRET OF WILL-O’-THE-WISP.â€â€™
* How is the poetry getting on?†said he, presently, taking the great
arm-chair by the fire, while Effie, who was the younger and the greater
favorite with him, sat perched on his knee, gazing with admiration on his
bronzed, brave old face.
“Oh, Uncle George!†cried Effie, “I cannot do mine; it’s so
difficult! â€
* But,†said he, “if Barbara and you can write such pretty lines to
me on my birthday, surely, Effie, you could have ¢rzed.â€
“*T have tried,†replied Effie, beginning to play with his gold-
rimmed eye-glasses, placing them across her own tiny nose.
* And what does my little mouse, Barbara, say?†said he. “For I
have the prize in my pocket.†And putting his fingers in his waistcoat-
pocket, he drew out a little red-morocco case, in which was a tiny gold ring,
set with five dear little pearls.
“Oh, Uncle George, I wish
Ihad tried more!†exclaimed
Effie, her eyes sparkling over such
a prize. “Or that you had given
us something easier.â€
‘Why tal eWehatwican be
easier? Old Will-o’-the-Wisp
warning three poor little children
of their danger in the dreadful
morass by which they must pass,
and to remember their parents’
words, and the shocking result
of disobedience; besides, you have
the title all ready for you, and
six weeks to think it over;
uncommonly easy, it seems to
Effie hung her head.
* Run, Barbara, and fetch
your verses, and the ring shall be
yours!â€
WISP.
-O’-THE-
THE WILL
“THE DREADFUL SECRET OF WILL-O’-THE-WISP.â€â€™
Away ran Barbara, returning with a sheet of foolscap, on which
she had printed, very carefully, these two verses:
«* WILL-O’-THE-WISP.
“Poor little children !
Return, I entreat !
My path is too wild
For your tender feet.
“T dance all night long,
Through blackest morass ;
And where my lamp leads,
Your feet cannot pass.â€
“Well done! Well done, Barbara!†said her Uncle. “Come and
give me a kiss; you have earned the ring right royally!â€
Barbara blushed violently as she took the prize, and her Mother
kissed her and made much of her, and every one said what a clever little girl
she was.
Effie was so gentle about it, and praised her sister more than any
one. ;
But after this day, a change came over Barbara: she walked sullenly
about the house, lost her appetite, took no interest in her dolls, nor could
she enter into any game with any heart witn Effie, and at last she grew so
pale and quiet, that her Mother took her to a great physician.
“Tt looks like the brain,†he said; “does she study much?â€
“Not very much,†said Mamma; “but she is a very quick, intelligent
child, and can write little verses.â€
“Oh — ah—/#’m—!†said the doctor, looking piercingly at Barbara.
Barbara quailed beneath the glance.
“She must rest; you must keep her out as much as you can in the
open air; she must not even read for a time.â€
But his manner so terrified Barbara, that going home she said:
“Mamma, I am not ill! It’s a dreadful secret I have about Will-o’-the-
Wisp!â€
“Who has been frightening my little girl?†said Mamma, fondly.
“Oh, Mamma, [ve never been happy since the day Uncle George
“THE DREADFUL SECRET OF WILL-O’-THE-WISP.â€â€™
gave me the prize for those verses! Oh, Mamma, forgive me! I copied
them from your old story-book, and I cut out the leaf. I never thought I
should be found out, because I did not know there was another book like it
in the world—â€
“Oh, Barbara—there are thousands!†exclaimed her Mother,
looking shocked.
; ‘Yes, Mamma, now I know it. But I didn’t then; and Uncle
George would be so unhappy if he knew; but I may die, and yow may find
it out. Oh, Mamma! I wish I had never been so wicked!â€
* Barbara, this is terrible! such naughtiness and falseness in one so
young! You must send your ring back, with a full confession to your
Uncle, for that is the only way you can make amends for having deceived
him so terribly.â€
Barbara clung to her Mother, sobbing.
“But I think my darling has suffered enough already, and I freely
forgive her. Barbara, no joy can ever come from any dishonest action.â€
“No, Mamma! I know, I know! I will zever do it again; darling
Mamma, I promise you! â€
The ring was returned, the confession made, and Barbara is regaining
her lost health and happiness.
Both Effie and she are trying once more to write poetry on the three
little girls who were saved by Will-o’-the-Wisp. Which of them will win,
do you think?
S. E. Bennett.
enn?
: eS aries,
LITTLE FLO’S LETTER.
SWEET little baby brother
Had come to live with Flo,
And she wanted it brought to
table,
That it might eat and grow.
“It must wait for awhile,†said Mother,
In answer to her plea;
For a little thing that hasn’t teeth
Can’t eat, like you and me.â€
“Why hasn’t it got teeth, Mother?â€
Asked Flo in great surprise.
“Oh, my! but isn’t it funny,
No teeth, but nose and eyes?
I guess,†after thinking gravely,
“They must have been forgot.
Can’t we buy him some like Grandma’s?
Pd like to know why not?â€
That afternoon to the corner,
With paper, pen, and ink,
Went Flo’, saying, “Don’t talk to me;
If you do, itll ’sturb my think.
’'m writing a letter, Mother,
To send away to-night;
And ’cause it’s very ’portant
I want to get it right.â€
an Dg, sa pear eerie ig’ 2 ee ae a en ee ee Ps Ba ii†Eee,
LITTLE FLO’S LETTER.
At last the letter was finished,
A wonderful thing to see;
And directed to “God in Heaven.â€
“Please read: it over to me,â€
Said little Flo’ to her Mother,
“To see if it’s right, you know.â€
And here is the letter written
Lou God by jittle,| Klo-
“Dear God, the baby you’ve brought us
Is awfully nice and sweet,
But because you’ve forgot his ‘toofies,’
The poor little thing can’t eat.
That's why I’m writing this letter,
A’ purpose to let you know;
Please come and ‘finish’ baby.
haes: all. Hrom. bicrtum Miron
HAT a twittering and talking
out there in the garden,
Now the snow’s on the ground
and the frosts set and harden;
Such flutter of feathers; such chirping
and cheeping,
While wee bright bird’s-eyes through the
' branches are peeping.
’Tis the Robins! they’re planning a “ round
robin†for us,
To wish us good luck in the year that’s
before us.
ah GN 2
etentni
SUGH CLUGK!
HE geese wanted one thing, and Lisa,
the goose-girl, wanted another.
“TI call it a great shame,†grum-
bled Mrs. Poosey to her husband, the old
gander, “that Lisa won’t let us get through
the fence, and into the nice luscious meadow
that lies beyond it, sloping down to the
Tver.â€
* And the grass looks so rich and
tempting, so much nicer than the grass this
side,†echoed the six young geese, all ina
chorus, stretching out their long necks, and
gabbling and hissing, and arguing over their
grievance, as Lisa drove them before her
across the meadows to graze.
Lisa sighed when she heard this
conversation and discussion going on. She
had lived so long with her geese that she seemed almost to understand
their language, and to know what all their noises and gestures meant.
She understood perfectly well now that they were intent on getting through
the fence into Farmer Schmidt’s meadow, the moment her back should
happen to be turned. And Lisa knew something else that the: geese did
not know, and that was how very angry Farmer Schmidt would be if he
found them on his land— angry with them, angry with her, and angry with
her Mother, who, in her turn, would be angry with Lisa. For she was only
her step-mother, a hard, unkind woman, who often treated poor Lisa very
badly while her Father was away at sea. She sent Lisa out on the meadows
to keep the geese, though Lisa was growing a big girl now, and would have
liked to be doing something, such as learning things, or doing housework
or needlework. But the unkind step-mother gave her no choice, and Lisa
SUCH LUCK!
knew that if she did not look well after the geese, not hard words only, but
even blows would fall to her share.
So, presently, when her snowy flock had settled to work feeding,
Lisa sat herself down on a grassy knoll, where she could keep one eye on
them, and one on the distant sea she loved so to look at, and began to
dream, singing the while softly to herself. Lisa had a sweet, fresh voice,
and, though at home her step- -mother would chide her for making a noise, as.
she called it, out here in the open air, under the blue sky, she could sing to
her heart’s content.
Away before her stretched the sea — the sea on which, some-
where or other, her dear Father was sailing, and a great longing came
over poor Lisa to get away from her goose-girl life, and to do some-
thing less dull. So she sang sadly, and her eyes grew wistful. The
geese, ever and anon, between their beakfuls of grass looked up at her
slyly. ’
No chance yet,†hissed Mr. Gander to his family. “But patience;
perhaps she’ll sing herself off to sleep.â€
© However are we to get nice and fat by Michaelmas if we can’t go
into that meadow!†grumbled a young goose who did not know much of
life. ‘Lisa said we must be fat by
Michaelmas.â€
“Hold your tongue, you
silly! you don’t know what you are
talking about;†and Mr. Gander sup-
pressed him sharply, and witha slight
shudder. ‘Hold your tongue and be
patient.â€
So the geese munched on, but
Lisa suddenly stopped singing. For
up from the pond came a new sweet
sound, sweeter even than Lisa’s
voice. It was borne on the sea-
breeze over to the little goose girl,
rivalling in clearness and melody the
carols of the larks in the blue sky
above. And when Lisa heard it,
aie.
SUCHE“ LUE)
she sprang up joyfully, and forgetting all about the geese, ran off in the
direction from which the music came.
It was little Hans, the neighbor’s boy, who was as fond of playing on
his flute as Lisa was of singing. But he got scolded for it too; was told he
was idle; and so his plan was to go and hide himself down by the reeds in
the pond, when he got a chance, and play away, undisturbed, except by the
sighing of the bulrushes as they waved in the wind, or the splashing of the
frogs in the pool.
Lisa disappeared over the
brow of the hill. The geese saw
her go, and hissed softly among
themselves. A sea-gull, flying
above them, laughed an exasper-
ating little laugh
over her careless-
ness, but the chance
for the geese had
come.
“Come along! â€
hissed Mr. Gander.
* Hurry aap !â€
put in Mrs. Poosey;
and with one accord
they .all waddled
and scrambled as
fast as their un-
gainly feet would
carry them down
the hill, through the
fence, into, the for-
bidden land.
All but one.
And that was the
young goose, Gob-
bler by name, who
had spoken so care- f
na
SUCH LUCK!
lessly and lightly of Michaelmas Day, —a day to be dreaded, indeed, by all
properly minded young geese. He was rather huffy over Mr. Gander’s
snubbing, and had gone off by himself in the sulks. Down by the pond
the grass was better than on the
fields by the sea, and Gobbler began
to congratulate himself on being
wiser than the others in having
come there.
Now, Hans was busy playing
with all his might, his cheeks blown
out to their fullest extent, and think-
ing of nothing else but his music, as
he stood half hidden among the
rushes by the edge of the pond,
when Gobbler approaching, gently
and quietly, grubbing among the
grass and reeds with his sharp beak,
suddenly perceived Hans’ bare toes,
and made a sharp peck at them.
Hans gave a shriek, and dropped
his flute; the goose made another
peck; Hans turned and fled, making
his way with difficulty through the
rushes; the goose waddled after, with
here a peck and there a peck at the
poor defenceless legs and toes. And
all the while Lisa was hurrying down the hill to hear Hans play, and the
other seven geese were munching for their lives in Farmer Schmidt’s
meadow. Hans could run faster than Gobbler, who followed with out-
stretched neck and angry hisses which seemed to the boy perfectly alarm-
ing; but a great tuft of reeds came in his way, in which Hans caught his
feet, and, with a cry, tumbled head over ears into the pond, all among the
newts and frogs. When Lisa came running on the scene, all she saw was
his flute, lying on the bank, and his cap, floating on the water.
Hans came up again in a moment, though more frightened than hurt,
for the pond was rather muddy than deep, and Lisa helped him ashore.
‘iia
SUCH LUCK!
They recovered his cap and his flute, and wrung the wet out of his clothes;
while Gobbler, quite subdued by Lisa’s appearance, gazed quietly at a little
distance, as meek as if he had never tried to peck at any one in his life.
It was only when Hans pointed out the assailant who had led to this
catastrophe, that Lisa suddenly remembered her neglected charge.
“Oh! Hans! Hans!†she exclaimed. “The geese! the geese! they
will have got into Farmer Schmidt’s meadow!†and off she ran up the hill,
and Hans followed, dripping. It was his turn to help Zev now.
And, indeed, her fears were true. Down in the rich grass of the
forbidden ground, seven white geese, led by Mr. Gander, were enjoying
themselves as much as it is possible for geese to do. But there was worse
still.
Along the path, across the fields from the harbor, came the dreaded
Farmer Schmidt himself, making straight to his meadow where those seven
white patches were plainly visible. But Farmer Schmidt was not alone.
By his side, talking to him, walked a man in a blue jersey, and when Lisa
saw that man she forgot all about the geese again, and ran towards him, not
in the least afraid of the angry farmer, and flung herself into his arms with
a cry of joy. It was her Father, come back from sea.
And when Farmer Schmidt saw how happy she was, he had not the
heart to scold her.
So there was luck all round for every one,— Lisa, the geese, and
Hans; for all but sulky, ill-tempered young Gobbler.
Edith E. Cuthell.
THE- DOG
THAT FOLD
STORIES.
HERE really wasn’t enough for three,
And that was plain to pussy and me;
We saw there was really plenty for two,
And so we decided what we would do.
We said to Rover, “Your master has gone
Across the meadow, and all alone;
It’s nothing to us, but we saw him go
oO d esac,
2
And we thought, perhaps, you would like to know.â€
Rover was off, like a hurried rat,
And I shared the dinner with pussy-cat;
But I don’t like to think what Rover will say,
When he finds his master zof gone that way.
I think, perhaps, we had better go,
To leave plenty of room for Rover, you know;
For he’ll want some room, when he finds he’s late,
So we'll leave him alone with the empty plate !
A CLEVER FEAT. . \
UR Master is an artist,
And clever, people say;
We kitties thought him clever
Until the other day,
When we were in the studio
And Master was away.
We thought that painting pic- -
tures .
Meant cleverness, it’s true,
Until we tried to paint one,
And then we painted two; *
Both of them much more lovely :
Than any he can do.
There’s one upon the can-
vas
All splodgy and complete;
And one upon the pal-
ette,
And that is still more
sweet; al
We clever kitties did 4
them 5
We did them with
our feet !
sa MPM ae
i NONDEREOL RiDE.
ECIL and Gertrude were two famous
riders; they hardly ever tumbled off;
they understood their horses and don-
keys, and their horses and donkeys under-
stood them, and never kicked; for the fact
was, they were made of wood, and ran on
wheels.
Cecil and Gertrude used to play all
sorts of games with their horses.
Now, one Summer’s day they went
simply wild with excitement, for they were going to stay at the
seaside.
At last the time came, and they found themselves by the beautiful
sea, and with real live donkeys on the sands. Gertrude was the first to get
on a donkey’s back
a very nice donkey, she thought, but rather a naughty
donkey, as he turned out. Whether he had had no breakfast that morning,
or whether he was greedy, I don’t know. But I do know this, he ran away.
Yes, ran right along the sands and along the >
streets with Gertrude on his back, and he never
stopped till he got to his stable. Of course,
Gertrude was very much frightened, and it was
quite wonderful that she didn’t fall off. The
donkey-man wanted to beat the donkey, but
Gertrude begged him not to; and I really be-
lieve Neddy understood her, for he never again
attempted to run away, although Gertrude and
Cecil used to ride him every day.
Edric Vredenburg.
fHE CAT
DID WE.
HO was it broke
a plate to-day?
Twenty pieces, I
. heard them say;
There upon the floor
they lay$——
It must have been
the cat!
Somebody’s drank up all
, the cream,
Of doing that no one else
would dream;
The children ran — they heard
cook scream—
It must have been the cat!
By somebody, Dolly’s nose
was bitten;
And where, oh, where ‘is
Baby’s mitten?
The truth, though sad, still
must be written —
It must have been the cat!
He’s full of mischief, though
so small;
There he is on the garden wall;
He won’t come down, though
the children call;
It must have been the cat!
Clifton Bingham.
DAISNG
DAINTY little Daisy I do know,
I think her age is seven;
Her dimpled face is full of grace,
Her eyes are blue as heaven:
Yes, blue
And true,
Her eyes,
Like skies,
Are just as blue as heaven,
And like a Daisy, pink and white, and gold,
My Daisy came from heaven, one night, [’m told.
This dainty, dimpled Daisy I do know;
I said her age was seven;
Her heart, ’m told, is made of gold,—
The gold that comes from heaven;
It’s pure,
Ym sure.
Pure gold,
Not sold,
But sent to us from heaven,
And like a Daisy, pink and white, and gold,
My Daisy came from heaven, one night, I’m told.
I wonder if the Daisies know they have a stster,
Sent from heaven,
Whose age ts seven.
WHATS THAT NOISE ?
H, listen, do,†said Spot to Trim;
“Now, did you ever, ever hear
Sounds like this thing, upon the rim
Of our pan, is making here?â€
“I wonder if the thing’s alive; ia
I wonder how it makes that sound;
Let’s go and ask the wise, old dog,
Who in the yard is always found.â€
So off they went to Solomon;
Some other visitors were there,
But Spot and Trim, though rather shy, 774
Asked him the question then and there.
Said Solomon, “I take the
thing
You speak of, children, for
a bird;
The saucy mites pretend to
sing,
But such a noise I never
heard
“Proceed from throat of dog or
puss,
Or any thing of decent size; â€
The callers curled their whisk-
ers up,
And modestly cast down their
eyes.
MITES: FORGIVENESS.
se MAMMA!†sobbed little Kitty,
“look what naughty Vixen has
done!â€
“It’s only that old chocolate-box,
ma’am,†observed Nurse; “children do set
store on such rubbish! â€
Nurse spoke in this way to make
light of the whole affair; but Mamma
knew how to soothe a child’s grief
better than this. She took Kitty
on her knee, dried her: tears and
kissed her golden head, saying:
“JT hope you did not attempt
to punish Vixen? She is only a
little dog, and knows no better.â€
“No, Mamma —I—I only pushed her away!†stammered Kitty.
“Even that would make her little heart very sad,†said Mamma.
“But the picture of the boat is all torn off!†sobbed Kitty afresh.
“Never mind. We must try and forgive Vixen. Iam sure that
she feels she has been naughty. Turn and look at her Kitty. She is beg-
ging you to forgive her.†At last, little Kitty stroked poor Vixen’s head.
“Now, my sweet, I am going to see dear Grandmamma for an hour,
and when I return, I hope my little girl will have been brave enough not
to cry any more.â€
Kitty’s eyes were very red when Mamma came back, but Nurse
said that she had not given away to tears again, although she had .not had
the heart to play with any of her toys.
*T never see a child take on so about a rubbishy box,†said Nurse.
* And as for Vixen, ma’am, she’s run away into the garden, to hide herself.â€
> said Mamma; “I think the fairies must have
5
“Come to me, Kitty,
told Grandmamma about your misfortune, because she had this all ready
for me to bring to you.†Kitty gave a little cry of delight, for it was such
KITTY’S FORGIVENESS.
a pretty bonbon box, tied up with pink ribbon, and on the lid was a picture
of the most mischievous kitten you ever saw.
Kitty ran into the garden with her new treasure, and joyously called
Vixen. The clever dog saw in an instant that the past was forgotten, and
that her little mistress was happy once more, so she bounded to her side.
“Vixen loved sugar-plums, but waited patiently, wagging her tail,
while Kitty opened the lid. .
“Here, Vixen! Tl give you this large one, to show you I forgive
you about the old box.â€
S. E. Bennet.
ci Sie OGL Da Tie Ns
PECKLEDY hen! speckledy hen!
What do you do in my garden pen?
Mother will scold you, you know she will,
And father will beat you for doing ill;
And I’d like to know what you'll do then,
You dear little naughty speckledy hen?
AMBITION.
S ELL,†said.the duckling, “ well,â€
As he looked at his broken shell,
ie “Tf this is the world Pve dreamt about,
It’s a very great pity I ever came out.â€
“My dear,†said the duck, “my dear,
Don’t imagine the world is here;
The world is a pond, it lies out there —
You shall soon see life, so don’t despair.â€
But the duckling’s spirit soared beyond
The reeds and weeds of that muddy pond,
And it certainly zs most atrocious luck
To be born with a soul if you’re only a duck.
OUR ISLAND.
ERE playing at Robinson Crusoe,
And this is our island home. |
It’s rather too small to hold us all,
But Toby, dear dog! would come.
I am Robinson Crusoe, -
And Jane is Friday, the black;
And Nurse is the Mother who keeps on the shore
Because Crusoe doesn’t come back.
Toby’s the parrot and monkey, »
And also the dog and the goat,—
There’s no one else to be all those things, —
And Jenny’s pail is our boat.
I wish our island was bigger,
It’s such a tight fit for three!
I wish we could move, or make signals
For the passing ships to see.
If we tried to play we should
tumble off,
The island’s so very small;
But small as it is, it’s rather
; grand
To have an island at all!
E. Nesbit.
THE LITTLE CHILD-ANGEL.
LL the little child-angels were busy
in their gardens counting over their
flowers, for they knew that it was
Innocents’ Day, and then they go down,
once a year, and carry their blossoms to
the children in the world below.
“JT have such a big bunch of
violets,†said one. “I can go into the
town and give one each to all the little
children.â€
* And see my lilies! †said another.
* How pleased they will be!â€
“But I have only one white rose-
bud,†said a third. “Nothing else has
come out.â€
“But it is such a lovely one!â€
“Ee said the others, clustering round. “Don’t
erieve, darling,†for the tears came into
the eyes of the little angel, because he had only one flower. “It is better
than all ours together.â€
Then one of the big, grown-up angels came and told the little child-
angels that the gate was open, and so they all flocked through and went
down the great silver-stairs, carrying their flowers with them.
Now the little White Rose Angel, with his one blossom, turned
away from the towns, because he had only one flower to give away, and so
went right into the solitary parts, where the country lay all white under its
robe of pure snow. Then he came to a lonely cottage, a very poor little
place, far, far away from any other dwelling, and as he paused a moment he
heard a sort of low sobbing like some one in great distress. “I will go in
here,†he thought.
Now, in the cottage, crouching over a dying fire, were two little
THE LITTLE CHILD-ANGEL.
children, a girl and a boy. The girl was the bigger of the two, and had her
little brother in her arms, and she was trying to soothe and comfort him;
but he cried and wailed, for he was but a tiny boy, and could not understand
many things.
When will Father come home,†he said, “and bring us some food,
and some more wood to make a bigger fire burn?†.
“He is sure to be home in the morning,†said the little girl, pushing
the dying embers together to make them burn a little brighter, “and then
we shall have both food and warmth.â€
Then the little Angel was very sorry, for, all of a sudden, he knew
that their Father was lying cold and still under a great snow-wreath in the
hills, and would never come home any more.
“Sing to me,†said the boy. “Sing to me, sister, sing about the
flowers.â€
And the girl, though she was vety
weak and ill, sang to him as he asked:
THE FLOWERS OF HEAVEN.
“The tall, white lilies, fair and sweet,
In Paradise bloom at our dear Lord’s feet;
And on the earth He hath bid them blow,
That we, the flowers of Heaven, might know.
“And ‘mid the meadows He bid spring up
The daisy white, and the buttercup ;
Those, too, in Heaven, I think we'll see,
When we bow down at our dear Lord’s knee.
“And the crimson rose, with its sharp-set thorn,
Like the Crown that once for us was worn;
That, too, we’ll find by our dear Lord’s side,
When at last we all go home to bide.â€
“7 think Ill sleep now,†said the
boy, drowsily. “I ain’t so cold now, I
think. Good-night, sister!â€
THE LITTLE CHILD-ANGEL.
“ Good-night !†said the little girl. “I’m tired, too, so will go to
sleep till Father comes in the morning.â€
Then as they slept, tight-folded in one another’s arms, the little
Child-Angel came softly and put his white rosebud in their clasped hands.
And the Great Frost Angel paced the earth all that night through, and it
grew colder and colder with his frosted breath; but the children slept on
and on. And in the morning there were two new little child-angels in
Paradise.
But when the people came and found the two little frozen figures,
they wondered greatly, for in the tiny, ice-cold hands was clasped a lovely
rosebud which filled the poor little cottage with its fragrance. And the
Priest took the flower, when they laid the children to sleep in the quiet
churchyard, and put it on the altar of the little hill chapel, and there it
blossomed till Easter Morn dawned; and then was seen no more.
M. A. Hoyer.
SONG-BIRD sat
on a swaying bough;
The song he sang
I can hear it now;
And this was the song
he sang as he swayed:
“Thank God for the
beautiful world He made!â€
TRY AGAIN.
IS a lesson you should heed,
Try again;
If at first you don’t succeed,
Try again;
Then your courage should appear,
For if you will persevere,
You will conquer, never fear,
Try again.
Once or twice, though you should fail,
Try again;
If you would at last prevail,
Try again;
If we strive, ’tis no disgrace
Though we do not win the race;
What should we do in that case?
Try again.
If you find your task is hard,.
Try again;
Time will bring you your reward,
Try again;
All that other folk can do,
Why, with patience, may not
you?
Only keep this rule in view,
Try again.
.
Hickson.
PEE TWCELE
LATLE PRINCESSES:
NCE upon a time there lived a great
King, whose name was Mesmerian,
and who was also a powerful en-
chanter. He was most anxious to have
a son to succeed him on his throne, and
when the fairies sent him twelve lovely
little daughters, he got in a great rage,
and throwing them into a magic sleep he
locked them all up in a big cupboard in
an- old palace. At least, all: but: the
eldest Princess, Ida, who was so beau-
tiful that even his hard heart relented,
though he sent her to the same palace,
with an old deaf and dumb woman to
take charge of her. Then he enchanted
the palace, so that though it stood in the
Po Meee > midst of the city no one remembered it,
and not a sound was heard in it, or its
gardens, but the songs of the birds, and the clear little voice of Princess
Ida.
Now, of course, Princess Ida knew nothing about her little sisters.
She had to play all alone in the garden, and to read the old books in the
library, and to tend her flowers; and she often longed for a companion.
But no one came, and only once a year her Father paid her a visit. She
was always glad to see him, though he rather frightened her, and moreover
he made her curious; because every time he always sent her away into the
garden, while he went and peeped into a cupboard which was kept locked.
She knew he went, because once she followed him, and saw him put a key
in the lock, but when he turned and saw her he was so angry that it made
THE TWELVE LITTLE PRINCESSES.
her quite ill. Now, on the morning after one of these visits, Ida ran out
into the garden as usual, and there she saw something, shining and bright,
lying on the path. It was a key,—a golden key.
“Oh, how pretty!†she said, picking it up. “I wonder where it
comes from?†Then she gave a start as a thought struck her. “It must
be the key of the cupboard. Father has dropped it! O—oh! if I
dared —! â€
She looked at the key, and longed for just one peep. But she was a
well-read little girl and knew her Bluebeard. Yet, of course, her Father
wasn’t wicked, like Bluebeard; besides, she would be careful not to drop
the key. All the time she was walking slowly back into the palace, and
then upstairs; and then she reached the cupboard, and then, somehow, the
key got into the lock and she peeped in.
“Oh! oh!†she cried. “Oh, you darlings!â€
For there, instead of anything dreadful, sat eleven lovely little girls,
in eleven liltle armchairs, but they were all sound asleep.
“Oh, you dears!†cried Ida. “Iam sure you are my sisters.â€
And in she ran and kissed them all round, and as soon as she kissed
them they all woke up.
“Why, where are we?†they cried, “and who are you?
“You are in the Old Palace, and I am your sister _ Ida. Come down
and have some dinner. But, hark! what a noise there is outside! What
can be the matter?â€
For the profound quiet of the palace was broken by shouts and
cries of excitement.
“Let us go and see,†said the eleven. And down they ran. There
stood the great door of the palace, open, and outside were crowds of people,
and just opposite a man knelt with his head on a block, and another man
was just going to cut it off; and beyond stood a group of grand gentlemen
all in armor.
“It is Father!†shrieked Princess Ida. ‘Oh, it is’ Father!â€
And so it was; for the Emperor Ragymuffin and his twelve sons had
that day conquered the city, and they were just going to chop off King Mes-~
merian’s head, as a bad king and wicked enchanter.
“Oh! stop—don’t!†cried Princess Ida; and, followed by her sisters,
she rushed across, and they all fell on their knees before the Emperor.
FIDO AND THE SWANS.
The Emperor paused, and hesitated. Then one of his sons stepped
up and whispered something to him, and then another, and then another.
“Hum!†said the Emperor, at last. “Hum, ha! Exactly; well,
young ladies — if— hum—ha— if you will consent to marry my twelve
sons, and your Father will divide his dominions among you—I—TI will
accede to your request.â€
* We will do anything,†sobbed the Princesses, “to save our dear
Papa.â€
And, of course, King Mesmerian agreed to the terms.
And the twelve Princesses and their bridegrooms lived happily all
the days of their lives.
FD OMAN DRE SWANS:
IDO ran down to the brink of the lake,
And began a barking protest to make;
“This lake, let me tell you, is mine,†said he;
“You're trespassing on m roperty!â€
5
“Dear me,†said the Swans, “don’t make
NH such a row
With your ridiculous bow-wow-wow;
The gardens are large, and you’re
very small,
And surely there’s room in
the world for us all.â€
Gray Severn.
H, the “Clothes-basket†was a gallant boat,
And a very merry crew were we;
We took the cat and our father’s coat,
With a “ Yeo-heave-ho!†we went afloat
On the Brussels-carpet Sea.
Now, I was the captain and Jill the mate,
And Jack was the cabin-boy;
I sat in the stern, and I steered her straight;
We hove ahead at a splendid rate,
Till the cat mewed “Skip ahoy!â€
We looked out over the good ship’s side,
And what do you think we found?
’Twas a small, small wreck on the flowing tide,
We couldn’t save her, although we tried;
But we watched her run aground.
So we sailed away for Sideboard Bay,
And went to the native’s shops;
And we stored our hold with butter-scotch,
With biscuits and candy-drops.
Be era
‘
cn alae
por Se %
LITTLE LOVERS.
uf
OU are a nice little girl, you are;
And I like you better than toffee, far;
Better than apples and cake and jam,
For I’m awfully fond of you, dear, I am!
Say, do you think you can love me, too?
There’s nobody else I love like you;
But if you are cross and say you don’t,
I'll never speak to you. more, I won't!
There’s lots of girls as pretty as you,
And I know they are longing to have me, too;.
So make up your mind before I go,
And if you can love me, tell me so!
Why, I declare, you are crying now,
There’s a regular frown upon your brow;
Then give me a kiss, and believe me, true,
There’s nobody else that I love like you!
F. EL Weatherly,
isis JOUR Lis
LONE MERMAID.
HE was rather a lonely little Mermaid,
for she had no brothers or sisters,
and being a Princess she was not al-
lowed to play with any one who was not of
high birth, and it so happened that scarcely any
of the nobility who attended the Court had any
little children. Her Father and Mother, the
Mer-King and Queen, lived in a splendid palace,
built of coral and mother-of-pearl, surrounded
by lovely gardens, where grew the choicest and
most beautiful sea-flowers; and the little Prin-
cess was most carefully educated, and always
went about attended: by a guard of honor of
four soldier-crabs, and two ,great sword-fish,
who protected her from every danger.
She was taught to manage her slender silvery tail with the most
courtly grace; she could play upon the sea-harp, and sing the most beautiful
sea-songs, in the sweetest voice She knew how to manage her flashing
mirror, when all the Court rose through the clear, green waters, to sit on the
rocks in the moonlight, and to comb her golden locks with a diamond comb,
in the most ravishing manner. But yet she was not a happy little Mermaid.
She wanted something, though she knew not what it was—some one to
play with, she thought it was; some one to talk to.
“Oh, nonsense!†said her Mother, the Mer-Queen, when she com-
plained sometimes of being dull. “ Princesses must never be dull.â€
“JT wish I wasn’t a Princess,†said the little Mermaid, sadly. She
would have cried if she had been an earth-maiden, but the sea-maidens
have no tears. Once they learn to weep they are no longer mermaidens,
but become daughters of the sky, and are one step higher on the silver
stairs.
THE LITTLE LONE MERMAID.
“For shame, Princess!†answered her Mother, severely. “I am quite
astonished at you! Go and practise your new tune, and let me hear no
more complaints.†And the Mer-Queen swam away into her own apart-
ments, to look over the Court
jewels, and count up her pearls,
which was her chief amusement.
But to tell people they must
not be dull, and yet do nothing
to cheer them, seldom does much
good. The little Princess went
and practised as she was bidden,
but she still felt very sad; and
when she had finished she did
not know what to do. So she
thought she would go up and see
if the little earth-children wer
e
oO
oa
digging on the sands, and playin
by the seashore, as they often did.
The Princess was very fond of
watching them, and often longed
to join in their chatter and their
play; but though she would swim
quite close to them, and call to
them, they never seemed to see
or hear her. ‘There was one little girl she was particularly interested in.
The others called her Neeta, and the Princess often wished she could make
her see her, and talk to her. Once she fancied Neeta did notice her, for
she looked so hard at the spot where she, the Princess, was, but at last
little Neeta turned away, and only said to the other children: “I thought I
!†said the Princess,
saw a great fish there!†“Fancy, thinking me a fish
half offended, and yet she longed to play with Neeta.
But this morning it so happened that no children were to be seen,
and the poor little Princess turned away disappointed. Just then, however,
something white flew past her on the wind, and dropped into the sea. At
first she thought it was a bird, but in a moment she stretched out her hand,
and grasped it, for it was no sea-gull; no, it was a child’s hat. She looked
THE LITTLE LONE MERMAID.
at it curiously, and then a sudden desire to try it on seized her, and
swimming to the shore, she was soon seated on a rock, and putting it on her
golden curls, while she gazed in her mirror to see the effect.
Oh! Oh!! Oh!!!
The Princess turned round at the cry, and there was little Neeta,
who had come running down to try and save her hat, standing close by, and
gazing at her with round eyes of wonder and awe. Sais teyout hate 2
she asked.
“Yes,†said Neeta, almost too frightened to speak. “Oh, please, will
you give it me back?â€
“Oh, let me keep it,†begged the Princess; “I have never had a hat
before, and I do so like it.â€
But Nurse will be so cross,†stammered Neeta. “She —she told
me not to go out; but I did so want to see the big waves. And they will
all be so cross.â€
“Will they?†said the Princess. “Why?â€
© They'll say I was disobedient and careless,†replied Necta, gather-
ing courage. “They are so cross, you can’t think.â€
Then a great idea flashed into the Princess’s mind. “If they are so
cross,†she said, “do come with me. I won’t be cross, and I do so want
some one to play with. And you shall have all my pretty things, and we
will have such games, and be so happy.â€
* But how can I come?†pouted Neeta; “the water will drown me.â€
“No, no, it won’t, not if you look in my mirror; you will be just
what you wish. Oh, do, do come!â€
Neeta hesitated. She thought how cross every one had been lately,
and what a scolding she would get when she went home. And it would be
lovely to see the bottom of the sea, and be able to tell them all about it at
home. She hesitated; but when the Princess looked entreatingly at her, and
held out her mirror, she peeped in it— and in a moment, lo! she was diving
through the cool, green waters, her hand locked in that of the Princess; and
she had no frock on, and no legs, only a lovely silvery tail, like a fish.
And what fun they had! The Princess showed Neeta all the Palace,
and the gardens, and the heaps of pearls and precious stones, and the won-~
derful fishes and sea creatures gliding through the waters. And then there
were wonderful corals, and sea flowers, and sea fruits (they had sea grapes
THE LITTLE LONE MERMAID.
and sea melons for luncheon), and she sang her all her sweetest songs, and
they played no end of games, and there were no lessons and no tasks ; and
yet, and yet, after a while Neeta began to feel miserable; and nothing the
Princess could do would cheer her.
“JT want to go home,†said Neeta, one
day. “I want to see the others.â€
“Why?†asked the Princess.
“Why?†answered Neeta, impatiently.
“Why? of course, because I love them.â€
“What is love?†said the Princess.
Neeta stared. Then she pondered.
“Love,†she said at last. “It is— it
is — oh, I don’t know how to say it ; but it
makes you ache, and yet it makes you glad.
It is something here,†and she touched her
breast. “Something that sometimes makes
you sing, and sometimes makes youcry. But
you know.â€
“Now don't!†said) the™ Princess:
“Mermaidens are not like that; but if you go I shall be all alone again. [
shall have no one to play with or to talk to. Oh, do stay!â€
But Neeta began to sob and cry, for she was not a proper Mermaid, but
had a child’s heart; and when the Princess saw her grief, something awoke in
her own breast, —a strange ache and pain such as she had never felt before.
> she said at last. ‘Come, we will go up to the shore, and
*“Come,’
you shall have your wish.â€
Then they rose, hand in hand, through the still waters, and when
they reached the rocks the little Princess held out .her mirror to Neeta.
And Neeta, gazing in it, was once more a little girl; and, with a cry
of joy, she sprang up the sands, ran towards home, not even staying to say
good-by.
“Oh, stay — wait— promise me you will come back sometimes!†cried
the little Mermaid. “Oh! I am all alone, and you have so many to play with.â€
But Neeta never listened or turned; she had forgotten all about the
Princess, in her hurry to reach home. Then it seemed to the little Mermaid
that something broke in her breast, and then something that smarted gushed
THE LITTLE LONE MERMAID.
in her eyes, for she had never felt warmth before; and then she burst into
tears of sorrow for the loss of her little playmate.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
“Where am I! Where am I?†cried the little Mermaid.
“You are our comrade, our new little comrade,†said a sweet voice,
and then she saw around her a fair company of tender faces and floating forms;
“Sand we are the children of Sunshine and Cloud —of Love and Tears.â€
M. A. Hoyer.
A BONE OF CONTENTION.
NCE there was a little dog
Who found a little bone;
He thought, as little dogs will do,
’Twas his, and his alone.
Said he, “I’m very hungry, so
T’ll have this for my own.â€
SO Ine Gale leva sh lows) Croysevere,
With the bone between his feet,
And growled, although his temper
It was naturally sweet;
He soon became a picture, sad,
Of selfishness complete.
There was a second little dog,
Who saw the other’s bone,
And wished and wished with all his might
He had one for his own,
But dared not beg a bit of him,
He had so surly grown.
Now, little dogs and little folks
Should never greedy be;
I shouldn’t like to think that you
Behave so selfishly;
That he was very selfish,
Y’m sure you will agree.
If you’ve a pretty picture-book,
With rhymes and pictures fair,
Don’t take it to a corner,
And sit surly with it there;
Let others, who would like to look,
Your pleasure in it share.
Gray Severn,
a ee
oS se er os eS!
HE north wind doth blow and we shall
have snow,
And what will the robin do then,
poor thing?
He’ll sit in the barn and keep himself
warm,
And hide his head under his wing,
poor thing.
The north wind doth blow and we shall have snow,
And what shall the honey bee do, poor thing?
In his hive he will stay till the cold’s passed away,
And then he’ll come out in the Spring, poor thing.
The north wind doth blow and we shall
have snow,
And what will the dormouse do then,
poor thing?
Rolled up like a ball in his nest, snug
and small,
He'll sleep till warm weather comes
back, poor thing.
The north wind doth blow and we shall
have snow,
And what will the children do then,
poor things,
When lessons are done they'll jump,
skip, and run,
And that’s how they'll keep themselves
warm, poor things.
MOU Me STNG Te
OU mustn’t climb up there, Pussy,
Y It’s not the thing to do;
For clocks were made to tell the
time,
And not as toys for you.
You mustn’t pat the weights, Pussy,
And move them to and fro;
Or else the clock will be annoyed,
And then it will not go.
You mustn’t touch the hands, Pussy,
With little furry fects
Or there will be no dinner-time,
And then what will you eat?
And if you stop the clock, Pussy,
The world cannot go right;
We should be sleeping all the day,
And romping all the night.
For clocks make time go right, Pussy ;
And if no good clock goes,
Things will all happen upside down, —
As everybody knows !
TOBY’S DINNER.
F you please, my little master,
You have quite forgotten me;
Don’t you know that I am hungry, —
Hunery as a dog can be?
All the morning we’ve been playing
In the garden, I and you;
You have eaten all your dinner,
What will hungry Toby do?
Merrily laughed Toby’s master,
2;
“T forgot you quite,†he owns ;
“Come with me, and we’ll together
See if we can’t find some bones !â€
Off they scampered to the kitchen,
On a plate, beneath a chair,
There is Toby’s dinner waiting, —
Waiting to be eaten there.
TAKING BUNNY OUT.
THINK you must: be tired,
my dear,
Of staying in the house;
Vil take you out, if you’ll be
good,
And quiet as a mouse.
But if you skip and frisk away,
And in the meadows roam,
Oh, how I shall regret, dear
Bun,
You did not stay at home!
DOT AND HER DARLINGS.
HE first time I saw Dot, she was just a round-faced, round-eyed baby,
dressed in a pink frock and pink ribbons, and I thought she looked
like a little pink rosebud, but the first thing she did as soon as she
was out of arms, was to investigate the coal-box, and then I don’t know
what she looked like.
But one snowy Christmas poor Dot caught a very bad cold, through
playing snowballs in the garden, and was obliged to stay at home while the
rest went to their grandfather’s farm, to fetch home the Christmas log.
They were all so fond of their dear little sister, that, of course, they
were as sorry as sorry could be that the poor little thing had to stay by her-
self in the nursery.
“Never mind,†Dick said. “You shall pull all my crackers with me
to-morrow.â€
* And mine too!†cried Charlie.
Dot did not cry and make a fuss at being left alone, as some children’
might have done, not a bit of it. She just set to work to amuse herself,
until it began getting a tiny bit dark, and outside the snow was falling faster
and thicker than ever.
DOT AND HER DARLINGS.
“ How pretty!†said Dot. ‘“ What a big turkey Mother Goose must
be picking up there! â€
But who was this coming close up to the window, laughing and smil-
ing at her. Was it Grandpa? No, Grandpa’s beard was not as long and
white as that, and Grandpa never came to see them with a big bag on his
back.
Whoever it was, Dot opened the window and let him in.
“Oh, dear,†she said, “how cold and shivering you are; please come
and sit in Grandpa’s chair, and let me unfasten your shoes like I do
Grandpa’s.â€
“ And what’s your name, my dear?†said the old gentleman.
“Dot; that’s not my real name, but that’s what everybody calls me,â€
said the little girl.
“A very good name, too,†said the old gentleman, chuckling, and
rubbing his hands. “ Capital, Cap-i-tal! â€
“ And, please, what’s your name?†asked Dot.
“ Can’t you guess?â€
“ Somebody’s Grandpa,†whispered Dot.
“Suppose we give up? and that you fetch me six long stock-
ings †—
“Oh, I know —I know now; you're
dear, kind, darling old Santa Claus, and that is
your bag of toys, and you’ve come to fill up all
our stockings; that’s true, isn’t it?â€
Then she hugged him and
kissed him, and flew up the stairs for
the six long stockings.
“Now,†said Santa Claus, “tell
me what to put in them.
Who first?â€
“Dick, and he wants
lots of things. Skates, and
-a cricket ball, an engine, a
drawing-slate, and oranges, ; oer
and chocolate, and, oh, please,
some crackers.â€
DOT AND HER’ DARLINGS.
“Yes; here they are, every jack sprat of ’em,†said Santa Claus, with
his head in the bottom of the bag. “ And who next?â€
“Milly, next; she wants a work-box and a story-book, a dolly’s
cradle, a silver pencil-case, and crackers and nice things to stuff in
the toe.â€
“Yes, here they are; and who next?â€
“Bob and Charlie next, and, oh, if you please, they’re twins, and
they’d like the same, —a whip, a top, a box of soldiers, and a jumping-man.
And Nellie wants a new doll and a Perembulaton, a box of paints, and a
book like Milly, and — a — that’s all.â€
“Why, what do you want, Dot?â€
“Oh, please, I should like a dolly, too, and some chocolate, and a
collar for Dash, and something nice for Mother and Granny!â€
“Look! here’s a dolly and some chocolate. Wake up, Dot, and see
what Grandpa’s sent you to put in your stocking.â€
Then, all at once, Dot woke up, and there was everybody standing
round her, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, and snow-covered hats and
coats, and Milly was holding out a pretty new doll, and Dick a dear little
box of chocolate. Then she rubbed her eyes and jumped up, and looked
everywhere for Santa Claus.
“Why, you funny little goosey, you’ve been dreaming,†said the
children, altogether. “As if Santa Claus would come before tea!â€
“Never mind, darling,†said Milly, when she saw how disappointed
Dot looked. “Never mind; Santa will come again to-night.â€
And so he did, and filled six long stockings up to the brim.
L. Haskell,
SLUMBERLAND.
HAT is the way to Slum-
berland?
"Tis but a little journey
there:
Out of the nursery, shadow-spanned,
Out: of the | firelieht,
stair —
up. the
That is the way to Slumberland!
How do we go to Slumberland?
Drooping lashes and tangled _ hair;
a
Bittle bare feet, a toy in hand,
Lisping lips and a baby prayer;
That’s how we go to Slumberland!
What is the gate of Slumberland?
Pillows soft and a curtain white,
Somebody watching, near at hand,
Crooning a lullaby low and light;
That is the gate of Slumberland!
Clifton Bingham.
MY BABY.
“\NWING, my Baby,
Up in the trees,
Rock-a-by, rock-a-by,
In the sweet breeze.
Swing, swing,
en When the winds blow,
ee Backward and forward
Baby will go!
Blow, sweet breezes,
Ever so soft,
Rock Baby’s cradle,
High up aloft;
Swing, swing;
But when the wind blew,
Down came the cradle
And Baby, sweet, too!
GRANDMAMMA’S VALEN TINE.
WEET little maiden with eyes so blue,
What has the postman brought for you?
Come sit by my knee and tell me, I say,
What has he brought you on Valentine’s day?
Yes, that’s very pretty! I’m greatly afraid
That some one’s in love with my sweet little maid.
Is it Cyril, or Arthur, or Jacky, my dear?
Come, whisper. his name in your Grandmamma’s ear.
When my hair was golden, and my eyes were blue,
One Valentine’s day I was’ waiting like you;
Waiting impatiently, longing to see
What the kind postman was bringing for me.
And a valentine came, oh, so lovely and gay,
With a fat little cupid, and mottoes to say
That the dear little sender’s best wishes were mine,
And he wanted “sweet Maggie†for his Valentine.
It is faded and yellow and crumpled, my pet,
But I treasured it then, and I treasure it yet;
And the dear little sender is now an old ‘man,
And what was his name?—well, now guess, if you can.
His hair once so brown, now is whiter than mine,
But still he remains my own true Valentine;
And we're lovers to-day, as we were in the past.
“Its Grandpapa?†Yes, dear, you’ve guessed it at iast.
TRAMP, TRAMP.
RAMP, tramp, tramp,
A gallant regiment
are we 5
Tramp, tramp, tramp,
And every one can plainly see,
By our martial air
and bold,
And our uniform
of gold,
The sort of corps
that ours must be.
Tramp, tramp, tramp,
We fight upon the battle-plain;
Tramp, tramp, tramp,
While bullets rattle
round like rain;
If we happen to get shot,
Why, it matters not a jot,
We just get up
and fight again.
Tramp, tramp, tramp,
We're not the sort
OF meni tom nun:
Tramp, tramp, tramp,
We fight until the battle’s won;
Then if you are tired of play,
You can pack us all away,
Our duty well and bravely done.
POLITE POLLY.
ISS POLLY and her Dolly
Were sitting on a log,
When up, out of the river,
There jumped a little frog,
And he said, “ Good-morning, Missie!
And pray, how may you be?â€
“Pm very well,†said Polly;
“And how are you?†said she.
“If you'll come and sit beside me |
Pll wipe you nice and dry;
And we can have a cosey chat
Together, you and I.â€
But ere the little maiden
Had turned her sunny face,
There stood a fairy on the log
In little froggie’s place. -
And she said, “My little maiden,
Because you’ve been polite,
Pll be your friend forever,
And guard you day and night.â€
The moral of my song is this:
When seated upon logs,
Be most polite to animals,
Especially to frogs.
Fred E. Weatherly.
POLITE POLLY.
oa
CRS THE TWIN DOLLIES.
T was really a very anxious moment
for two twin Dollies who stood side
by side in the window of a village
shop. They were wax Dollies, with
golden hair and blue eyes; they were
sisters, and very, very fond of one an-
other. These Dollies had always looked
forward with dread to being separated
when the day should come for one of them
to be bought and the other left behind;
nevertheless, life in the shop-window was
very dull, and when the hot sun shone in through the glass, it was rather
uncomfortable to wax Dollies, besides being very bad for their complexions.
But the Summer had gone, and with it a number of bats and balls,
china mugs (presents for good girls and boys), tin soldiers, and Jack-in-the-
boxes, and still the twin Dollies remained behind.
‘It strikes me,†said one Dolly to the other, at last, “ that we cannot
be so lovely as we. thought ourselves. Nobody seems to take any notice
Git osâ€
What the other Dolly would have replied it is impossible to say, for
at that moment a little boy and girl came round the corner, and gazed into
the shop-window, and both Dollies listened anxiously to their conversation.
* Now, Ella,†said the boy, who was dressed in a sailor-suit, “ what
shall we buy? I’ve got heaps of money in my pocket, so you choose your
present.â€
It was a long time before Ella could make up her mind; but at last
she said, “I think, Jack, I should like one of those Dollies.â€
‘All right,†replied Jack; “but which will you have? They are
exactly alike.â€
After hesitating a little, Ella said she would like the one with the
greatest respect, never failing ft)
1
THE TWIN DOLLIES.
blue sash; so the children went into the shop, and Jack bought the doll for
his sister, and a box of tin soldiers for himself.
“And I think Pll have the other dolly, too, the one with the pink
sash,†said Ella (oh, how happy the Dollies felt! so they were not to be
separated, after all), “to give to that poor little girl who was standing by
the window as we came in, and who looked as if she were longing for a
BOW
Then Dolly with the pink sash, if she had been anything else but a
dolly, would have fainted. Just fancy, going to live in a poor cottage,
whilst her sister was going to a grand house!
“Very well,†said Jack, ‘do as you like; but I don’t see what the
little girl wants with a doll, she already has a live baby in her arms.â€
But the shop-woman wrapped up the two Dollies in separate pieces
of paper, and they only had time to whisper to one another: “Good-by,
dear; perhaps it would have been better for us to have grown old together
in the window!â€
And then one Dolly was carried off to live at the Squire’s big house,
while the other went to the humble cottage.
The Dolly with the blue
sash had a very good time of *
for about a fortnight. Ella chris-
tened her Lady Victoria Vere de
Vere, and dressed her in a new
dress every day, took her for
drives in a perambulator, and put
her to bed in a comfortable cot.
Jack also treated her with the
address her as “your Ladyship,â€
when he spoke to her. In fact,
she was so very grand, that’ she
never even thought of her less for-
tunate sister. But this grandeur
. was not to last, for at the end of
the fortnight Ella had a new toy, and poor Victoria lay neglected in the cup-
board in the nursery; and there, no doubt, she would have continued to stop,
- THE TWIN DOLLIES.
if Jack, one fine morning, had not pulled her out, and, not being able to find
his cricket-stumps, made a wicket of her, and bowled her left arm off,
Then when Ella and Jack went to the seaside, with spades and buckets,
instead of dolls, Lady Victoria was put into a box in company with a lot of
other broken toys, and was stowed away in a lumber-room. Now, indeed,
did she begin to think of her sister, and wished to be back with her in the
shop-window. In the meantime the Dolly with the pink sash was taken to
the cottage by the poor girl who carried the baby, and she had no fine
clothes given to her, and was only called Polly.
At first she was very miserable, and would say to herself, “What a.
shame it is that I should be treated in this way, while my sister must be
spending such a happy time with the Squire’s little girl! Here I have only
one dress, and that is rapidly getting dirty. I’m not fit to be seen!â€
But when she saw how happy she made the poor child and the baby,
THE TWIN DOLLIES.
she began to think differently. The baby held her tight in her little arms,
and called her “ Dear Dolly!†And when baby got ill, so ill that she had
to lie in bed all day, Polly kept her company. And when baby got worse, so
much worse that she had to be taken to a hospital, Dolly Polly had to go too,
for baby couldn’t bear her out of her sight — the only toy she had ever had.
And as Polly lay beside the sick baby in the hospital, she said to herself,
“ Wouldn’t change now for all the lovely dresses in the world. I only wish
my sister were with me here.†And, so strange to say, Dolly Polly got her
wish, for the very next day a big parcel came for the poor children, and on
the parcel was written: “With Jack and Ella’s love; we packed it our-
selves;†and inside the parcel were any number of toys, both old and new,
and among them, with her left arm missing, her dress very much crumpled,
and in a very bad temper, was Lady Victoria Vere de Vere. But as soon
as she saw her sister, her naughty, bad temper flew out of the window, she
was so happy and delighted.
That night, when all the little ill babies were fast asleep, and the toys
talked and walked about, the twin Dollies told each other their adventures,
and Lady Victoria came to the conclusion to spend the rest of her days in
trying to make little sick babies happy.
Luckily for the twin Dollies, Lady Victoria was given to a little girl
who lay in the next cot to Dolly Polly’s baby, so the twin sisters could see
one another all day long. And Lady Victoria’s baby loved her Dolly as
much as the other baby loved Polly; and that, you know, is saying a very
great deal.
Well, Iam glad to say, what with the doctors and the nurses, and all
sorts of nice things to eat, and, of course, the twin Dollies, the two babies
got quite strong and well. Dolly Polly went back to the cottage, and lived
happily ever after with her baby. And Lady Victoria was taken to another —
cottage with her baby, and lived equally happy.
Of course, it was very sad for the twin Dollies to have to part again;
but we can’t expect to get everything in this world. To make little babies
happy is something, —a very great deal, the Dollies thought; and so do I,
and so will you if you will try it; that is to say, if you haven’t tried it
already, which I daresay you have.
Edric Vredenburg.
‘DEAR LITTLE BUTTERCUP.
EAR little Buttercup was called Little
L) Buttercup because she lived at Buttercup.
Farm; but her real name was Margaret,
which was sometimes shortened into Meg. Her
home was a very comfortable one ; everybody
loved her, and I am afraid that everybody spoilt
her, so that she got to like having her own way a
little too much, and was not quite as obedient as
she ought to have been. And of all the people
who spoilt her most, Grandpapa and Grandmamma,
who lived in another farm-house, about a mile
away from Buttercup Farm, were the worst.
Dear Little Buttercup had a loving little heart, and was fond of
everything and everybody; but she loved most in the world, next to her
Father and Mother, of course, her Grandpapa and Grandmamma. In the
Springtime, when the first flowers were peeping their little heads out of
last year’s fallen leaves, she would be up betimes, and, gathering a fresh
posy, would run through the woods and
over the fields, and put it in Grandmam-
ma’s place at the breakfast-table; then
she would crawl under the table, and hide
there till Grandpapa and Grandmamma
came downstairs; then out she would
pop, with a big “Boo!†and be greeted
with hugs and kisses. Well, this was all
very nice and pleasant ; but sometimes,
on her way home from Grandmamma’s,
she would loiter and linger on the road
for hours, and put everybody in a terrible
fright; and although she promised to be
Cee Er em * ete —_. »
BP
DEAR LITTLE BUTTERCUP.
a good girl in future, she continued to be thoughtless, until one very event-
ful day. It was an eventful day, to begin with, because it was a tea-party
day,— one of Grandmamma’s
famous tea-parties. There
were cakes, and tea, and
cream, and apples, pears, and
bright red cherries, and Little
Buttercup made herself a pair
OF ear-rings with the cherries;
so the children called her
“Cherry Ripe†for the rest of
the afternoon.
After tea they had grand
games, oranges and lemons,
and battledore and shuttlecock, and so amused themselves running about,
that their little legs became quite tired, and they were glad to sit down and
listen to a story told by Grandmamma; for Grandmamma could tell stories
as well as she could do other things. And it’s by no means a very easy
matter to tell stories to little people, when the girls want a real Princess in
it, and the boys would not think much of it unless it contained a few lion
and tiger hunts, to say nothing of a desert island, and a shipwreck or two.
So the day passed on until at last it was time to go home, and Little
Buttercup bade good-by to Grandmamma and her playmates, and away she
started over the fields. But she had not gone very far before she came to a
paling, on the other side of which was a pony; Meg thought him so pretty,
that she stopped to give him an apple and a piece of cake she had brought
away with her, and then she sat down by the paling and began to think
about Grandmamma’s story, while a little brown squirrel watched her from
a tree, and two little birds from their nest.
“Dear me,†she said to herself with a sigh, and staring at a big
bee that was sitting on @ flower just in front of her. “Dear me! how I
should like to be a Princess! â€
“Stuff and nonsense!†answered the Bee, somewhat to Little Butter-
cup’s surprise. ‘When you talk like that, you make me feel so cross, that
I should almost like to sting you.â€
“ Please, I hope you won’t,†said Meg, feeling rather frightened.
DEAR LITTLE BUTTERCUP.
“ Princess, indeed!†continued the Bee. “Suppose in our hive we
were all Queens, where would the workers be? Besides (no, ’m not going
to sting you!) — besides, you ave a Princess —â€
“JT, a Princess¢— rubbish!†cried Little Buttercup.
“Now, don’t be rude,†replied the Bee; “1 tell you you are a
Princess, compared to hundreds and hundreds of other children. Haven't
you got a beautiful home, a comfortable, cosey bed, a pony to ride upon,
warm fires in the Winter, turkeys and plum-puddings at Christmas-time ?
Doesn’t everybody love you and pet you, and haven’t you been this after-
noon to a tea-party?â€
* Yes — yes, but— â€
“ Stop a minute,†interrupted the Bee. “Look at that cloud of smoke
that hangs over the big city. I fly over sometimes to a pot of mignonette
on a certain window-sill. I peep in at the garret-windows, and what do
you think I see? A poor little white-faced crossing-sweeper girl. She has
no comfortable bed, only a little straw to lie upon; she has no warm clothes,
only a few rags hanging round her poor, thin
body. She has never seen a Christmas-pudding
or a roast turkey; her ordinary food is dry bread,
and sometimes a little milk, if her unhappy mother
can afford it; and her only happiness is her pot of
mignonette. Princess, indeed Bahl?
* But — but what can I do?†asked Little
Buttercup, tearfully.
* Well, you are a good little girl; but you
might be better, you know. You might be just a
Zeetle bit more thoughtful for others, and just a
Jeetle bit more obedient. Shall I tell you how?â€
S Yesiplease do,â€
Now, while the Bee and the little girl
chatted pleasantly on in the quiet field, and the
answered Meg.
pony, squirrel, and the little birds listened with
great interest, there was considerable anxiety at
Buttercup Farm. Meg should have been home
hours and hours ago. Her Father and Mother did not, at first, think much
about her being a little late, because of the tea-party day, and she might
DEAR LITTLE BUTTERCUP.
be kept longer at Grandmamma’s in consequence; but when the Summer
evening began to darken, and, last of all, the big red sun went to bed be-
hind his favorite hill, Mamma began to fret, and Papa began to fume, until
getting so impatient that he could sit still no longer, he seized his hat and ran
out of the house to meet his little daughter.
But he did not meet her. He walked on till he arrived at Grand-
mamma’s farm, and then to his dismay he heard that his dear Little
Buttercup had left there, on her way home, at the very least two hours
before.
“Let’s go and see what that pony is looking at so attentively,†said
Meg’s Father, as they came to the field; so he and his farm-laborers went
and looked over the paling, and, lo and behold! there lay little Meg, fast
asleep, with her little red hood on her little yellow head. It didn’t take
long for little Buttercup’s Father to get over that paling; in a second he
had the child in his arms, and was smothering her with kisses.
Meg was carried home, and they were so glad to have her back
again, that they had not the heart to scold ker; and when she saw her
Mother’s tear-stained face, she made up her mind never to be naughty again,
and to be more thoughtful for others in future. So the fact of Meg’s having
fallen asleep after the tea-party did some good; at any rate, she was
thoughtful and obedient from that day forth, and never again frightened
those who loved her by losing her way, or stopping out late.
WHO’S PUMP 2
UMPETY, bumpety, bump,
With a hop, a skip, and a jump,
My Mother said, “ Daughter,
Bring me some water,
That’s a good child, from the pump.â€
Jumpety, jumpety, jump,
Whoever is that at the pump?
“My name is Jim Crow, ’
Its my pump, you know.â€
Stumpety, stumpety, stump.
Trumpery, trumpery, trump,
“You kzow that it isn’t*your pump;
It’s Mother’s, and so:
Make haste and goâ€
Said little Pink Bonnet; |
“You've no business’ on it.â€
©
Jumpety, jumpety, jump.
First come, First Seve. fh
ies ANID Velie aS al:
O Rudie played truant, and
went a-fishing instead of
going to school. It was
so nice down there by the cool,
rippling stream, so much pleas-
anter than in the hot school-
room, among a lot of buzzing |
children, learning stupid lessons.
He would catch a lot of fish,
and get Mother to cook them
for supper.
But somehow the trout
would not come to be caught,
and that gave Rudie time to
recollect that when Mother
found he had not been to school
she would probably whip him,
and put him to bed without any
supper; and he began to feel so
unhappy, and so frightened at
the idea of the whipping, that he
thought he dare not go home at
all, and had better run away.
Splish! splash! Up popped a little fish, and stared hard at Rudie.
“Oh!†said Rudie, “ why didn’t you come to be caught?â€
“Thank you,†said the fish. “It isn’t my turn yet. J have another
year before half my punishment is over.â€
“ Are you being punished?†said Rudie, eagerly. “Oh, Iam afraid
of being punished, so ’m going to run.away! â€
“Jf you do,†said the fish, “it will be ever so much worse. ‘That’s
just what I did. Tl tell you, if you like.â€
“Oh, please do!†said Rudie.
“Well,†said the fish, “my Father is a great earl, and I am his only
RUDIEâ„¢ AND: THES RISE
son. He goes to the wars to fight for the King, and I wanted to go too;
but he said I was too young, and must stay at home and learn. But I
thought I knew enough and one day I
got a suit of armor out of the armory,
and a horse out of the stable, and off I
rode. Now it happened that I met an
old miller coming home from market,
and I thought what fun to startle him;
so up I rode and demanded his money,
and he was so frightened that he threw
me a purse of gold, and ran off as hard
as he could.
“Then I was scared myself, for I
knew when my Father heard of it he
would be so angry, for he said Knights
should protect people, not rob them, and
I was afraid to go home, and take my
punishment. So, instead, I went off with
the miller’s gold; and when that was
gone I got more, and became just a
common robber.
“One night I lost my way, but at last I came to a ferryman’s hut, by
a broad river, and I went in and asked for shelter. The ferryman was old
and bent, but he made me welcome, and set before me a brown loaf and a
few dry figs for supper. I soon finished those, and asked for more.
*«* IT have no more, he said:
** That is false!’ I cried. ‘I can see three more loaves on the shelf.’
“© Those are not mine,’ he answered. ‘Of all I earn, half is for the
poor, a quarter I keep for myself, and the rest I give to my little brothers,
the fishes, for the river is almost frozen now, and they can get little food.
I have given you my share, but my brothers’ and sisters’ portion are not
mine to bestow.’
“Then ! laughed, and I seized the other loaves and began to eat
them, when the ferryman struck me a sharp blow on the arm; [ could not
move. And lo, as I looked at him, he grew taller and grander, and a light
shone out round his head, and behold, he was no old ferryman, but the
THE DOLL’S PARTY.
blessed St. Christopher himself! ‘Go,’ he said; ‘seven years shall you be
a fish, and seven years shall you be among the poorest of the earth, and
then when you have borne your punishment come back and take your
armor, if you are fit to wear it!’â€
Rudie rubbed his eyes. The fish was gone; but he still seemed to
near his words.
“Tl go home,†thought Rudie, “and tell Mother, and ask her to
whip me at once.â€
M. A. Hover.
THE DOLE S RAK
HE company came at three o’clock,
With many a ring, and a rat-a-tat-tat knock!
They came in ones, and they came in pairs;
Some sat on the floor, and some on chairs,
The day they gave the Concert!
The dollies all came, so I’ve understood, —
Lady Belle, who’s wax, and Sarah, who’s wood;
Their behavior was most remarkably good;
They would have applauded, if they could,
The day they gave the Concert!
Somebody sang, and then somebody played,
And Fido quite a sensation made;
He barked, and got so very excited,
That Lady Belle was “dreadful frighted,â€
The day they gave the Concert!
At last, “that’s all of it!†some one said;
And then the dollies went home to bed.
And two little girls were tired-out quite,
Long before bedtime came, on the night
Of the day they gave the Concert!
Clifton Bingham.
THE NURSERY NEWS.
HAT is the latest news? Dear me,
\ \) As Granny says, T’ll look and see:
“Miss Mew has been to Court, and there
She saw a Mouse in the Queen’s high chair;
The Daughter of Mr. Bun, the Baker,
Has married young Wick, the Candlestick maker 3
Humpty Dumpty, who recently fell
Off a high wail, will soon be well;
We hear it is true, that Mr. John Horner
Has finished his pie and left his corner;
That dear little woman, Goody Two Shoes,
Has just been given a pair of new shoes;
My Lady Dolly has come to town,
To go to Court in a brand-new gown;
Lost, stolen, or strayed, a pair of ‘specs,’
The loss of them, Granny’s heart does Vere
Reward on recovery, twenty kisses;
A piece of news, most wonderful this is!â€
THE MAGIC BUCKET.
NCE upon a time there lived in a
pretty little cottage a Mother and
her son, Willie. The boy’s Mother
was so good to him, giving him everything
that he asked for, and spending her time in
thinking how best she could please him, that
really he ought to have been the happiest
boy in the world. But Willie was not, for
this simple reason: he was a selfish little
boy, thinking always about himself, and
never considering others; and when he was naughty, which, I am sorry to
say, was far too often, he never said he was sorry afterwards, and although
his bad behavior made his poor Mother unhappy, he ay didn’t seem to
care a bit.
Well, one hot Summer’s day he was sitting in the garden in front of
the cottage, making a daisy-chain, and beside him was a bucket his Mother
had asked him to fill with water from the well near by, for the pony, while
she went to do her marketing in the village. But it was so hot, and Willie
was so lazy, that the bucket remained empty. Presently there came
hobbling along the road a poor old woman; she seemed very weary, and
her clothes were covered with dust. “Little boy,†she said, as she arrived
before the cottage, “will you please run to the well and fill your bucket
with water, and give me some to drink? “T’m so very tired and thirsty.â€
But Willie shook his head, and mumbled something about the weather being
too hot to fill buckets; and that he, too, was tired. Still the old woman
begged him to fetch the water; but Willie lay on the grass, and kicked his
legs in the air and whistled :
“Bad boy!†cried the woman, at last, angrily. “The only way to
make such boys as you understand what unhappiness other people can feel,
-is to make you feel what it is yourselves. However thirsty you may be,
you shall never be able to fill your bucket until you can truly say you are
THE MAGIC BUCKET.
sorry for your naughtiness.†Saying which she tapped the bucket three
times with her stick, and as she did so, strange to say, it rang as if it had
been a silver bell, instead of a wooden bucket. Then the old woman went
on her way, and soon disappeared along the road.
“Stupid old thing!†said Willie. “What nonsense she talked about
my not being able to fill the bucket.†After a little while he began to get
thirsty, and as his Mother had not returned home, he went slowly off to the
well, dragging the bucket after him, grumbling to himself all the time.
Then he let the bucket down, and a minute after pulled it up, full of nice
cool water.
“There, now,†he cried, “I was sure the old woman was talking
nonsense!†But, wonderful to tell, no sooner did he touch the bucket to
place it on the ground, than the water ran through it, so that there was not
a drop left. Willie was both puzzled and alarmed; he turned the bucket
upside down to see if there was a hole or a crack in it; but no, it was as
good as when it was new. Then he let it down the well again and filled
it; but this time it was even worse, for as soon as the bucket arrived at
the top, and Willie stretched out his hand towards it, the water ran away
as if it had been poured into a sieve. Thoroughly frightened, Willie
would have rushed indoors, only
at that moment he saw his Mother
coming.
Good: boy,†said she,’ “ to
fill the bucket; a little water is
just what I want, for I’m so tired
and thirsty.â€
«But, Mother,? ‘cried the
boy,“ T icant “hill the bucket:
Look, Mother, see how the water
runs away.†And Willie let the
bucket down the well, and the
same thing happened that had oc-
curred before. Six times more
did Willie and his Mother try to
draw water, but not a drop could
they get. “What can have come
THE MAGIC BUCKET.
to the bucket ?†said the poor woman; “and what shall we do, for we
haven’t got another one!â€
Willie said nothing, but sat silently in the corner of the room that
afternoon. For the first time in his life he began to think that he had been
a naughty and selfish boy. He kept his eyes on his Mother’s face, as she
moved about the room, and he noticed how tired she looked; then he
thought about the poor old woman who had begged him for a little water on
the dusty road, and he began to wonder to himself how he could have
refused her. At last, going to his Mother, he pulled her face down to his,
and whispered, “ Mother, I have been a cruel, wicked boy;†then he told
her what he had done, and what the old woman had said about the bucket.
“Y’m so sorry!†he cried, and burst into tears. And one big tear trickled
down his cheek, and fell into the bucket at his side, and a minute after it
was filled with the clearest water. ‘Look, Mother!†cried Willie, ‘the old
woman must have been a fairy.†So, indeed, she must, and a good fairy,
too, for she taught Master Willie a very good lesson, one he never forgot.
He turned over a new leaf, and was kind to and thoughtful for others. The
bucket also became like an ordinary, every-day bucket, which was also a
good thing; for, although magic buckets are all very well in their way, it is
perhaps better for general use to have a bucket that will hold water when
you want it to.
Edric Vredenburg.
KS SREOOES 1.
< LEASE, little Mistress, come and play, an o
T’ve been so lonely all the day;
[ve slept enough for kittens three,—
Do come and have a game with me!â€
“No, Kitty, dear, 1 cannot come,
Until I’ve done this horrid sum;
For lessons first and then to play,
Is always, Kitty, the wisest way.
©So don’t disturb me, Kitty, please,
You haven’t to do hard sums like
these ;
The very minute that it’s done,
TYll come, and we will have some
fun!â€
BON VOYAGE.
; H, where shall we
sail in our ship
to-day,
To Sofa Harbor or Tabie
Bay?â€
Jack’s the bold skipper,
Kitty’s the crew;
I hope that they'll have a
safe voyage, don’t your
Clifton Bingham.
SUCH A] SURPRISE
HREE little girls sat under the big walnut-tree. It was such a nice
Summer’s afternoon! The bees and butterflies were flying about
among the flower-beds, and it was quite hot in the sunshine, though
cool and shady under the trees. From the meadow came a delicious scent
of new-mown hay. Pat, the little white terrier, was under the walnut-
tree, dozing; and all the dollies were there too, dressed in their best, and
having a tea-party; and why, do you think?
Because such a nice thing was going to happen that evening, — the
nicest thing that can happen to any little children. Mother was coming
home. Mother had been away a whole week. The home had seemed so
odd and dull without her. They had missed her in the morning, and
missed her at bedtime, and missed her at dinner; had missed her, in fact,
all the day long. But to-night she was to return. No wonder it seemed
such a lovely day, all the world sunny and happy, just as were Bella, and
Madge, and Daisy.
“If only she were coming back before bedtime!†sighed Bella.
* We shan’t see her till the morning.â€
"T sall keep kite wide awake,†lisped
little Daisy.
* Nonsense, you can’t! you always go
to sleep directly, Daisy,†laughed her sister
Madge. “But it does seem a long time to
wait till morning, doesn’t it?â€
“JT sink I sall go to bed earlier,
and make the mornin’ come quicker,â€
decided Daisy, as she settled her best
doll, who had slipped down and was
crumpling her sash.
At this moment Pat, who took
no interest in dolls or their tea-
parties, rose up, shaking himself, and
SUCH A SURPRISE !
set off for a stroll. He would have liked the little girls to come with him;
but it was much too hot to run about, and, besides, the dollies had to be
attended to. So Pat sauntered off alone down the path towards the
gate.
“Oh, dear!†cried Bella. “There’s the King gone away. Fetch
him back, do, somebody!â€
Pat was always the King’in their make-believe games, and Rosina,
Bella’s large doll, his Queen.
“How rude, King Pat, to get up and go away in the middle of the
feast in honor of ‘your Grandmamma’s’ return! â€
“Here, Pat! Pat! Come alone, Pat! Good dog; Pat! Come
here!â€
But Pat paid no attention. He was tired of lying still under the
walnut-tree, and he trotted out of the gate. Daisy jumped up and ran after.
him.
{| |
SUCH A SURPRISE!
Pat! Pat!†she called. Then, when she reached the gate, she gave
a great “oh!†and she stopped short, looking down the road.
The next moment she came running back, breathless and beaming,
to the others.
“Oh! such a ’prise! There’s Mammy
— Mammy coming down the road!â€
Bella and Madge sprang to their feet
with a shout of delight.
® She’s come by an earlier train, and she
means to surprise us! â€
“How lovely! But let’s surprise her!
Let’s hide, and she’ll wonder where we’ve
gone to!†.
Under the tea-table —in the parlor?â€
asked Daisy.
©That’s such an old and easy place,â€
objected Madge.
©] know!†cried Bella. “Vl find a
better. Come — quick, quick !â€
And we'll jump out and ’prise her!â€
‘ And she'll see no little girls at all, and wonder wherever we are!
Come along, Bella, and find a place! â€
Pat was forgotten. He was trotting down the road to meet Mother.
The dollies were left behind, poor things, —all in their best clothes, —
staring towards the gate, waiting for “Grandmamma.†The three little
girls hurriedly ran into the parlor. There Bella looked round.
* Under the table’s no good; she’ll look there first thing!â€
©The cupboard?†;
© We can’t all three get into the cupboard, not anyhow. Oh, I know!
Here — behind the window-curtain — that'll do!â€
Bella poked Madge and Daisy into their places, and then went to the
doorway and looked at them.
“T see a toe peeping out; Madge and Daisy, tuck in your pinafore,
and don’t shake the curtain. There; I think that will do. The curtain
does look rather fat and full. But, never mind, she'll zever think of looking
there.â€
SUCH A SURPRISE!
And Bella hurried into the hiding-place with the others. Then they -
all stood very still, and waited. But it was rather hot and stuffy behind the
curtain, and not so nice there as in the garden. Mother seemed a long time
coming. Up in the corner the old clock ticked more loudly and solemnly
than usual. Would Mother never come?
“Are you quite sure it was Mother you saw coming?†whispered
Madge.
‘Me not know Mammy, even ever so far off ?†replied Daisy, indig-
nantly.
“Hush! Hush!†said Bella. “I hear some one.â€
There were steps in the porch. The children all stood still as mice.
There was no sound but the ticking of the clock and the booming of a
bumble-bee outside the open window. The steps drew nearer and nearer.
But, alas! they were quite tiny steps, a small patter, and Pat ran in to look
for the children.
It was a dreadful moment. What if Pat should smell them out in
their hiding-place and betray them! For behind Pat came a well-known
tread, and Bella, peeping with one eye through the crack in the curtain, saw
dear Mother herself, her basket on her arm, entering the doorway.
She looked round the room, stopped, and looked back into the gar-
den. A puzzled look came over her face at the empty room and the
silence.
“Tt was a grand surprise for her,†said Bella to herself.
But little Daisy, who could not see through the crack, and who yet
heard that Mother was come, could not resist a peep. Her little curly
head showed round the corner, her eyes laughed, and her fat little shoulders
shook at what she saw. For Mother began a great hunt. Under the table,
of course, first; in the cupboard, behind the door, and, last of all, where do
you think? Up the chimney! This was too much for Daisy. A shout of
laughter came from behind the curtain, and then all three jumped out upon
Mother, and nearly throttled her with kisses. i
“O Mammy!†cried Daisy, when at last she had time to speak.
“Which was most s’prised— you or us?†;
Edith E. Cuthell.
WHAT SHALL WE BUY?
< E Pussies three have each a Penny,
But, on, the things ’twill buy are many;
Those Dicky-birds are cheap and sweet,
And Sparrow-tarts are nice to eat.
A Mice-pie, so Pve heard, is good;
Would you like one? Tm sure I should.
* A Penny buys a slice of fish,
Oh, that is such a lovely dish!
Saucers of cream or milk to drink,
We never shall -decide, I think;
Of nice things there is such a _ lot,
’Pon my whiskers, we don’t know what
To buy with the Pennies we have got!â€
Clifton Bingham.
THE NEW PETS.
“IDO is washing her puppies —
Four little puppies has she;
Three of them brown, like their Mother;
One of them black as can be.
Here in her own little basket,
Lined with a soft woollen rug,
Four little puppies beside her,
Isn’t she keeping them snug?
Licking their round little faces,
Washing their soft little toes;
Washing them over and over,
Down to the tip of each nose.
Please, may we play with them, Fido?
Why need you make such a fuss;
We will be ever so careful,
Sure you may trust them to us.
Trae
THE GOAT-CARRIAGE.
old, and his sister Belle was three
and a half years old, and’ they were
oN - both as brown as very brown berries,
oe because they had lived by the sea all
their lives, and the sun and the wind had
tanned their chubby little cheeks, their
fat little arms, and sturdy little legs.
oy Herbert and Belle were as happy
nee ee was four and a half years
j
as the day was long, for they had every-
thing their hearts desired. Amongst other lovely things, their Father,
who had a beautiful yacht, would often take them and their little friends for
a cruise round the coast, when they wou'a romp with the sailors, play tug-
of-war with the captain, and all would be laughter and merriment till the
naughty old dustman came in the evening to remind them that it was time
for them to lay their curly heads upon their pillows. Now, I am sorry to
say that Herbert and Belle were not always quite as good as they ought to
have been; and upon one occasion their disobedience brought about a very
terrible adventure.
“ Daddy,†said Belle, one morning, climbing on to her Father’s knee,
and rubbing her face against his cheek, “me and Herbert wants somefin’! â€
“More!†cried her Father; “what is it to be this time?â€
“Me and Herbert wants a pony and a carriage.â€
“'To drive ourselves,†added Herbert.
“ But, my dears, you are so very little to have a pony, and —â€
“Then, Daddy, you can get us a very /ittle pony,†interrupted the
little girl, throwing her arms round her Father’s neck, while Herbert
climbed up to her assistance.
And “ Daddy,†who began to fear that all the breath would be cud-
dled out of his body, at last consented to get them “somefin’.â€
THE GOAT-CARRIAGE.
Three days after, the “somefin’†came,—a beautiful little carriage,
driven not by a pony, but by a dear little Billy-goat, which was every bit as
good as a pony, the children thought.
‘Now, my darlings,†said Daddy, “here is your carriage; but you
must promise me never to drive in it, unless Nurse is leading Billy.â€
Herbert and Belle promised eagerly, and away they went in their car-
riage, feeling as proud as any Lord Mayor in his golden coach. They went
up and down the beach, and everything was perfectly delightful for an hour
or so, and then Nurse proposed a rest. So the children got out of the car-
riage, Billy was tied up to a post, while Nurse sat down to read a book. It
must have been a very interesting book, for she turned over page after page;
she never raised her eyes for an instant, and would, no doubt, have gone on
reading till dinner-time, if she had not been suddenly startled by a sharp
cry, and the sound of scampering feet.
She looked up in dismay, to see the goat-carriage, with the children
in it, fast disappearing in the distance. Herbert and Belle, alas! had for-
gotten their promise, and while Nurse had been busy with her book had
unfastened Billy’s cord, and gone off for a drive. together.
Now, Billy, perhaps, thought that he had done enough work for one
day, so determining to go home, he set off at a smart trot, which soon
turned into a very fast gallop.
“Stop, Billy; stop!†cried the children, clasping each other round
the neck. But Billy wouldn’t stop; not a bit of it. Bumpity-bump went
THE NEW GOAT-CARRIAGE.
THE GOAT-CARRIAGE.
the carriage over the stones, and clatter, clatter went Billy’s hoofs on the
hard road, as he galloped uphill and downhill, downhill and uphill.
Nurse and the sea were soon left behind, and to add to the troubles,
Billy was not going in the direction of the children’s home; he was tearing
along quite a strange road. Bumpity-bump they went through a village
street, cocks and hens flying out of the way, while dogs ran barking after
Billy. No one could stop him. Suddenly he turned sharp down a lane,
the little carriage tippled over, and Herbert and Belle were tumbled into a
muddy ditch. Luckily they were not a bit hurt; but, oh! what muddy little
things they were when they crawled out of that ditch, and walked towards
a farm-house they saw at the bottom of the lane.
The farmer and his wife ran out to meet them, and were very much
pleased when they discovered that they had come to no harm.
“I don’t know what your Father would have said to us,†exclaimed
the farmer, “ but we never thought that Billy would have come home again
to us this way.â€
It seems that the children’s Father had bought the goat from the
farmer, and Billy had suddenly taken it into his head to return to his old
home. Herbert and Belle were taken back, very much ashamed of them-
selves, and a very big scolding they had for being so naughty as to break
-their word. But they are wiser and better now, and when they make a
promise they keep it.
The goat and the carriage were also brought back; but it was a
long time before the children were allowed to go for another drive, for
naughty little boys and girls have to be punished, you know; but all that is
forgotten now. Herbert and Belle are as good as good can be, and so is
Master Billy.
PE Riley. CLOCK
UFF! what is the fairy-time?
What’s being done in fairy clime?
Puff! are they at dinner or tea?
Blow the fairy-clock and see.
Puff! we cannot hear it chime,
lit only: tells thes fam tine:
Rose-leaves for dinner, dew for tea,
How funny *t would seem to you and me.
a3 Puff! “You've blown it all away;
It’s ten o’clock,†said Meg to May;
“Tf it’s so late as that,†May said,
“] think the Fairies are all in bed.â€
A HICTORE, Of BUSS,
OW, Pussies, dear, if you'll be
good,
And at the pictures look,
Pil let you sit beside me there,
And see my nice new book,
I’d better tell you, first of all,
It’s all about three kittens
Who disobeyed their Mother, puss,
And lost their pretty mittens.
“Dear me,†said Tom, “how very wrong!â€
He was a solemn cat;
And Tabby said, “I never was
A naughty puss like that.â€
“dl tell you. all; the. story now,â€
_ Their little mistress said;
“We'll look at all the pictures, too,
Before I go to bed.â€
Cried Tom and Tabby in a breath,
“°Tis beautiful, indeed!â€
I’m sure they understood it all,
Although they couldn’t read.