Citation
Tales and verses of long ago

Material Information

Title:
Tales and verses of long ago
Creator:
Tucker, Elizabeth S
Moran, Percy, 1862-1935 ( Illustrator )
Frederick A. Stokes Company ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
New York
Publisher:
Frederick A. Stokes Company
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
[19] leaves : col. ill. ; 31 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children in literature -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Children in art -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Children's literature -- Juvenile literature -- 19th century ( lcsh )
Picture books for children -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Social life and customs -- Juvenile literature -- United States -- To 1775 ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1894 ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1894 ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1894
Genre:
Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- New York -- New York
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Citation/Reference:
Baldwin Library.
General Note:
Illustrated t.p.
General Note:
Decorated borders and text printed in color.
Statement of Responsibility:
with numerous full-page color-plates after paintings in water colors by E. Percy Moran ; and with decorative borders and other designs, together with new stories and verses by Elizabeth S. Tucker.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026625742 ( ALEPH )
ALG3819 ( NOTIS )
12528642 ( OCLC )
12007706 ( LCCN )

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Full Text
COPYRIGHT, 1894, BY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY.























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TALES AND VERSES
LONG AGO

WITH NUMEROUS FULL-PAGE COLOR-PLATES
AFTER PAINTINGS IN WATER COLORS BY

YE. Percy Moran

AND WITH DECORATIVE BORDERS AND OTHER DESIGNS, TOGETHER
WITH NEW STORIES AND VERSES BY

Elizabeth . Tucker

&

NEW YORK
Copyright, 1894, 3
Frederick BH. Stokes Company
PUBLISHERS












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Sunday Morning a hundred
Wears Ego.




NE Sunday, lovely cousin Kitty said, ‘ Dorothy
Allen shall go to church with me.” So Dorothy
was dressed in her white dimity skirt, with the blue
pelisse, had her freshest cap tied on, took Cousin Kitty’s
book, and went out of the garden gate and down the
sunny street on the bright June day to church. The only
other time she had been she could n’t remember, for it
was when she wore long, long baby dresses, and was
carried on a lace pillow to get her name, Dorothy
Catherine Pettigrew Allen, from the minister. Now she
was four years old, she was sure she was quite big enough
to go. How proud and pleased she felt as they walked
along the village street and saw all the other children
going too; and how grand she felt as she sailed up the
aisle beside Cousin Kitty.

She sat up very straight and still in the high pew, and
watched what everybody did. They sang very long and
loud hymns, and everybody sang. Every lady had a sprig
of rosemary or lavender carried in her prayer-book, and
the air had a faint perfume of it all the time. Up there
in the choir were the little charity-school children, all
































Sunday Morning a hundred Wears Ago.



dressed just alike in close caps, dark cotton gowns, short sleeves, and mitts. They stood in rows, and sang
away at the hymns,—some girls as little as Dorothy,—with their rosy faces and wistful eyes. And under the
gallery was such a very cross-looking man with a long stick, who leaned over and poked the boys and people
who went to sleep, waking them up to listen to the sermon. Cousin Kitty whispered that he was the
tithing man—and Dorothy must look out or he would be having to wake her up. But Dorothy fuxew that
she was quite too big a girl to go to sleep,—and anyway his eyes seemed always shut, though he never
missed seeing a sleeping boy or girl.

At last, after a great
prayers, the minister climbed
to talk, and talk, and talk.
and the church was very still,
word.

The air came in very
and windows, and a bee came
-Dorothy heard outside the
and sneezing long “ whoups.”
twittering in the trees and in
a little swallow flew in and
head, and then flew out again.
the high wooden pew. Then
the aisle going to sleep, and
as his eyes shut tighter, and
did not seem to see him. She
that she leaned forward, and
back where her warm little
against the varnishy - sticky
his eyes with a jerk, saw
Thomas awoke at the other
that upset his father’s book.

Dorothy blushed very
proper and good, but Cousin
handed her a leaf of rosemary
very long in the days when
and the voice went on, and
was still and hot. She sat




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THE CHARITY CHILDREN.

many hymns and long, long
into a tall pulpit, and began
His voice was very solemn,
for no one answered him a

hot through the open doors
in and buzzed about, and-_
horses stamping the flies away
The birds were singing and
the lanes of the church, and
circled among the rafters over-
Dorothy leaned back against
she saw Thomas Ryder across
his mouth dropped wider open
the old man under the gallery
got so interested in watching,
crack went her white dimity
shoulders had been leaning
pew. The tithing man opened
Thomas, leaned forward, and
end of the stick with a jump

much, for she wanted to be so
Kitty smiled kindly and
to smell. Sermons were very,
Dorothy Allen went to church,
on, and on. And the church
up very straight, to keep

herself awake—but presently everything looked dim, and her little cap was nodding like a heavy white rose
on its stem. And the voice grew far away—and the next thing she knew was a poke, and there at her pew
was that horrid tithing man! He was actually smiling, and every one else looked around and smiled at the
‘child who had to be waked up in church.”

Poor Dorothy! It was too much for her, and she sank in a heap of bashful misery to the bottom of
the pew, burying her crimson face in the cushions, where Cousin Kitty let her stay till church was out, and
then she only took her hand and said, “ Never mind.” But poor Dorothy was deeply humiliated to think
that so great a girl as she had gone to sleep in church the first time she went.



















BATTLEDOKE

AND

=~

SHUTTLECOCK IN 4 GARDEN

ALL IN 4 GARDEN OLDEN,
G@LéD WITH THE SWEET JUNE IR,
RIGH WITH THE LUSCIOUS GOLDEN
OF ROSE-HEARTS EVERYWHERE,

















FINK SNOW OF PETALS FALLING,
- BRUSHED BY THE DROWSY BEES,
MUSIC OF WHITE DOVES CALLING
HIGH IN THE SHELTERING TREES,










Sac

INTO THE SUNLIGHT STRATING,

UNDEK THE LEAFY SHADE,
WITH FLYING FeSTJTEPS, PLAYING,
A CHILD, AND 4 STATELY MAID.

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Nye a



attledore and Sbhuttlecock in a Garden



G@@YER THAN BIKRD-NOTES CALLING,
THEIK VOICES PURE AND CLEAR,
SOFTER THAN KOSE-LEAVES FALLING,
THEIK FACES SWEET AND DEAR.

IN ALL THE GARDEN’S GKACES,
THERE IS NOT ANYWHERE,

IN V42SE OR SHELTERED PLACES,
A WISION HALF SO FAIR.

ALWAYS THE G4KDEN SUNNY
THEIR PICTURES CLEAR WILL KEEP,
LIKE GARNERED STORES OF HONEY,
WHEN BEES AND FLOWERS SLEEP.




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The tharpsichord Lesson.

] N an old manuscript we read that George Washington

presented to Nellie Custis, ‘at Philadelphia, a fine
harpsichord.” And then “ her grandmother | Mrs. Wash-
ington] made her practise upon it four or five hours a
day.” And her brother adds: ‘She would cry and play,
and play and cry for hours!”

Out of the past comes this picture of a little girl, sitting
at a tall spinet, or harpsichord, (which was the first kind of
piano), and someway to my mind comes also the picture
of that brother probably teasing a little at the parlor door,
as poor Nellie sat “playing and crying” ; for if brothers
were then what they are to-day, that is very likely just
what he did.

Dear little maid! 1 can see her as she sat, toiling
away for hours with her warm little fingers, and with her
toes dangling down from a tall stool, in front of that old
harpsichord.

Out of doors the sun was shining warm and soft. The
birds were calling to her to say how lovely it was out
there, and the roses nodding in at the window beckoned
her to come and play with them.





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The ‘harpsichord Desson.

Her brother, with a wild swirl on his way to the garden, stopped to laugh at her tears, and only made
them worse. She evidently did not love music; but in those days little girls, and boys, too, had to do as
the “grown-ups” told them to, and never thought of rebelling. And harpsichords were very few in this
country when it was a new country, long ago; and so it was a great treat to many people who came to
her grandfather's house, to hear one played.

Dear little Nellie Custis! I wonder how many, many little girls since her time have sat as she
did, and worked as hard to make black dots on lines of music go on white and black keys of ivory.

That very same harpsichord is still standing in the dim old room in the mansion where she lived; and
as you see it, with its tall legs, there is always a picture of a little girl, whose weary fingers wandered up and
down its key-board, learning to make music for others to enjoy.







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Out of History's dusty page Practising the long hours through,
Comes a little maiden, Scales and stately measure,
Probably about your age, Patient, learning things to do

With sweet graces laden. Sust for others pleasure.



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The Minuet.

AY back in the long ago,—yes, away back when
George Washington was a doy, they danced the
minuet—our dear little Great-Grandmothers and manly
little Great-Grandfathers, Zey did n’t know that they
were Great-Grandfathers and Great-Grandmothers, but we
know, for they were our own, and here we are!

In rows they stood—the billowy silken skirts of the
girls opposite the velvet coats and satin knee-breeches of
the boys. It was the loveliest dress to wear in that
stately dance. The long coats of rich colors on the
boyish figures, and rustling silken skirts on the sweet
girls swaying to and fro in the slow figures.

With a sweeping rustling curtsy, with a bend of the
satin waistcoats, with a sweet chord on the spinet and
guitar, the dance began. Back and forth went the solemn
little folks, never faster than a walk, keeping time to
the delightful one, two, three of the music—crossing
and re-crossing in the different figures, following the head
couples in a stately march—two and two. Now bending “&.% i





The Minuet.



in graceful curtsys, while the little cavaliers knelt and saluted the tips of dimpled fingers, then holding
aloft silken scarfs in airy folds, entwining and interlacing all together. Soft and sweet the chords of music,

dark the shining floors, reflecting bright candle lights and dainty satin-clad feet.
beautiful gowns and coats, and sweet, oh! sweet, the dimpled rosy faces of the dear little children, as they

trod the sober measures of that most graceful of dances—the minuet of the long ago!

Rich the colors of the






























































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Dreaming before the Old
Five=Place.

HERE she sits in front of the fire, dreaming the
dreams that a little maid dreams when twilight and
bedtime are coming on, and the flames curl themselves so
easily into the long golden hair of floating fairies. Then
in the old mirror over the chimney are reflected all the
dear old nursery friends of tale and rhyme and Mother
Goose. Puss-in-boots is there, and princesses, stern old
knights, and helpful little fairies, who always make things
come right in the stories.

And in the centre of all, there is the enchanting Prince,
whose curls of gold float out, and who smiles down into
her eyes as she sits and dreams of him—so brave, and
gallant, and gay! The room is full of her fancies, and
they come down and take her hand, and touch her eyes so
that she sees in the glowing coals castles, turrets, knights,
and burning cities.

Sit down by the big fire yourself some night, when
you ’re tired of play, just before bedtime, and look for
them all in that big bed of coals, tucked in among the
logs and flames. See that burning bridge! There isa
galloping dragon with smoke from his eyes coming over

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Dreaming before the Old Fire=Place.



it, and swiftly it burns, and just as he gets to the centre, crash down it goes, burnt
through by the fire-sword of a trusty flame-fairy. Down go two ends of a burnt
brand, and the bridge becomes a burning castle, with windows all where the black
places are. Over there is a tiger with glowing eyes, coming out of the smoke, and
those little blue and yellow flames are graceful fire-fairies, waving and vanishing
up the dark old chimney. Oh, it is the best place of all to dream beside, and to
see pictures in at twilight. Try it and see for yourselves. And now—yjust as the
dark is curtaining the light in the windows, so that the glowing fire-fairies can come
out and fill all the corners of the room, and just as you are having such a very good
time seeing them all and telling about them, the door opens, and somebody, nurse
perhaps, says that bedtime has come!

Here across the page you go—little figures clad in long white robes, with
very sleepy eyes, full of the dreams you are going to have, with candles in hand,
with locks neatly tucked up, curled up,
and covered with caps for the night. With
bare feet, going across the hall and up
the stairs away you all go—into the soft
beds in the nursery, waiting like white
ships to carry you all across the sea of
night into the Island of Dreamland, where
all the fire-light stories and dreams come
true, and last for the whole night through.













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The Fencing Lesson.



ILFRED’S father’s friend, the Gentleman from |
France, was Wilfred’s hero in everything. He
was so brave, so handsome, so clever, and so full of
song and story of strange, interesting life across the seas,
told in his pretty broken speech, part English, part
French. Pet
The Gentleman from France had no other name to
Wilfred and the children, for it was the only one they
ever found out that he had. No one would tell them
‘al any other. He was a rather mysterious gentleman, for
en he came suddenly one night, and the children, finding
we pull S : him at breakfast next morning, were bidden to ask no

\ “ i iv questions, and he just stayed on in their home. They all
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loved him, Wilfred especially, for he was so jolly, and so
fond of playing with them. But sometimes he used to
sit and look very sad, and then if the children spoke to
him, he would answer them in French, with a far-away
look in his eyes.

One day, when Wilfred was taking his lesson in French
from the Gentleman, he asked about those two long, thin
swords which hung crossed on the wall, over the picture
of a dark-haired lady, in the Gentleman’s room.

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The Fencing Lesson.



ae

The Gentleman from France turned quickly away and looked out of the window, saying nothing for
a long while.

Then he turned to Wilfred standing asking there, and said, “It is a long, thin, cruel sword—very
little—very thin—but it killed my friend. It is for that I came to America.” .

Wilfred was very much interested, and after waiting a long time, while the Gentleman from France
looked sadly far out of the window, he said, ‘I should like to know how to use the long thin sword.” The
Gentleman turned about quickly, and laughed the sadness out of his eyes, saying, “ Boys are all alike, of every
country. Over in France, every gentleman knows how to use these swords. Come, I will teach you.” So
he took a pair of foils, and they went out on the sunny piazza, and there Wilfred had his first lesson jn
fencing. ;

After that, this Gentleman from France taught all the boys in the neighborhood, as all their parents
were glad of so good a chance for having their sons learn this gentlemanly art ; for, in those warlike days,
it was deemed very necessary for every man to know how to use a sword in his own or his country’s defence.

And what a good time they had! How exciting it was to get their foils, and gloves, and masks, and
to throw off their coats, and learn to parry, and thrust, and bend, with the fascinating, long, thin steel
foils glancing in the sunshine. Of course these had little buttons on the ends, so no one could get hurt,
and the handsome Gentleman from France became very excited and jolly over it all.

And so it came about, that while poor little Prudence had to stay in the house and learn to embroider,
and spin, and sew, Wilfred, out on the lawn in the healthful sunlight, was taught to use the foils as a
gentleman should.









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COPYRIGHT, 1894, SY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY.

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Full Text


COPYRIGHT, 1894, BY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY.




















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Licclpe taselen Ealgeely

Bea
Afamas ach) (Gfx,

Fae
%

} HAR
wy

{! Sy seg

‘7

TALES AND VERSES
LONG AGO

WITH NUMEROUS FULL-PAGE COLOR-PLATES
AFTER PAINTINGS IN WATER COLORS BY

YE. Percy Moran

AND WITH DECORATIVE BORDERS AND OTHER DESIGNS, TOGETHER
WITH NEW STORIES AND VERSES BY

Elizabeth . Tucker

&

NEW YORK
Copyright, 1894, 3
Frederick BH. Stokes Company
PUBLISHERS









Ree
WV A 6 (28 se
\

t
. | RS
! ‘ . \?

LQ: See

fm, 7

Sunday Morning a hundred
Wears Ego.




NE Sunday, lovely cousin Kitty said, ‘ Dorothy
Allen shall go to church with me.” So Dorothy
was dressed in her white dimity skirt, with the blue
pelisse, had her freshest cap tied on, took Cousin Kitty’s
book, and went out of the garden gate and down the
sunny street on the bright June day to church. The only
other time she had been she could n’t remember, for it
was when she wore long, long baby dresses, and was
carried on a lace pillow to get her name, Dorothy
Catherine Pettigrew Allen, from the minister. Now she
was four years old, she was sure she was quite big enough
to go. How proud and pleased she felt as they walked
along the village street and saw all the other children
going too; and how grand she felt as she sailed up the
aisle beside Cousin Kitty.

She sat up very straight and still in the high pew, and
watched what everybody did. They sang very long and
loud hymns, and everybody sang. Every lady had a sprig
of rosemary or lavender carried in her prayer-book, and
the air had a faint perfume of it all the time. Up there
in the choir were the little charity-school children, all





























Sunday Morning a hundred Wears Ago.



dressed just alike in close caps, dark cotton gowns, short sleeves, and mitts. They stood in rows, and sang
away at the hymns,—some girls as little as Dorothy,—with their rosy faces and wistful eyes. And under the
gallery was such a very cross-looking man with a long stick, who leaned over and poked the boys and people
who went to sleep, waking them up to listen to the sermon. Cousin Kitty whispered that he was the
tithing man—and Dorothy must look out or he would be having to wake her up. But Dorothy fuxew that
she was quite too big a girl to go to sleep,—and anyway his eyes seemed always shut, though he never
missed seeing a sleeping boy or girl.

At last, after a great
prayers, the minister climbed
to talk, and talk, and talk.
and the church was very still,
word.

The air came in very
and windows, and a bee came
-Dorothy heard outside the
and sneezing long “ whoups.”
twittering in the trees and in
a little swallow flew in and
head, and then flew out again.
the high wooden pew. Then
the aisle going to sleep, and
as his eyes shut tighter, and
did not seem to see him. She
that she leaned forward, and
back where her warm little
against the varnishy - sticky
his eyes with a jerk, saw
Thomas awoke at the other
that upset his father’s book.

Dorothy blushed very
proper and good, but Cousin
handed her a leaf of rosemary
very long in the days when
and the voice went on, and
was still and hot. She sat




Zs z

———

—-
jj

)

THE CHARITY CHILDREN.

many hymns and long, long
into a tall pulpit, and began
His voice was very solemn,
for no one answered him a

hot through the open doors
in and buzzed about, and-_
horses stamping the flies away
The birds were singing and
the lanes of the church, and
circled among the rafters over-
Dorothy leaned back against
she saw Thomas Ryder across
his mouth dropped wider open
the old man under the gallery
got so interested in watching,
crack went her white dimity
shoulders had been leaning
pew. The tithing man opened
Thomas, leaned forward, and
end of the stick with a jump

much, for she wanted to be so
Kitty smiled kindly and
to smell. Sermons were very,
Dorothy Allen went to church,
on, and on. And the church
up very straight, to keep

herself awake—but presently everything looked dim, and her little cap was nodding like a heavy white rose
on its stem. And the voice grew far away—and the next thing she knew was a poke, and there at her pew
was that horrid tithing man! He was actually smiling, and every one else looked around and smiled at the
‘child who had to be waked up in church.”

Poor Dorothy! It was too much for her, and she sank in a heap of bashful misery to the bottom of
the pew, burying her crimson face in the cushions, where Cousin Kitty let her stay till church was out, and
then she only took her hand and said, “ Never mind.” But poor Dorothy was deeply humiliated to think
that so great a girl as she had gone to sleep in church the first time she went.













BATTLEDOKE

AND

=~

SHUTTLECOCK IN 4 GARDEN

ALL IN 4 GARDEN OLDEN,
G@LéD WITH THE SWEET JUNE IR,
RIGH WITH THE LUSCIOUS GOLDEN
OF ROSE-HEARTS EVERYWHERE,

















FINK SNOW OF PETALS FALLING,
- BRUSHED BY THE DROWSY BEES,
MUSIC OF WHITE DOVES CALLING
HIGH IN THE SHELTERING TREES,










Sac

INTO THE SUNLIGHT STRATING,

UNDEK THE LEAFY SHADE,
WITH FLYING FeSTJTEPS, PLAYING,
A CHILD, AND 4 STATELY MAID.

= WES
a 8







inf bh se p I (_—
Se Lg DRA, cera UC

. . lA =
hw Ire = SSeS

— Z







fa gS Tah WG i peo Nysti|
j cA, (fy ce tpecrfiAy tt Wb | M SS )ecker,

Nye a
attledore and Sbhuttlecock in a Garden



G@@YER THAN BIKRD-NOTES CALLING,
THEIK VOICES PURE AND CLEAR,
SOFTER THAN KOSE-LEAVES FALLING,
THEIK FACES SWEET AND DEAR.

IN ALL THE GARDEN’S GKACES,
THERE IS NOT ANYWHERE,

IN V42SE OR SHELTERED PLACES,
A WISION HALF SO FAIR.

ALWAYS THE G4KDEN SUNNY
THEIR PICTURES CLEAR WILL KEEP,
LIKE GARNERED STORES OF HONEY,
WHEN BEES AND FLOWERS SLEEP.




8

a a
Wp ts

f if I @f nai Nyt aq .
WY t cai O NW

Ae :







\\,

wt “\ ¥
A oyi\
: _ ly) Be
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RT

PROTONS aot

a




























NN

ne
VES

ir f
‘ [
KC < .





, \ DY ay







SES
ye 7\
OME OR =
ie
Gf,

The tharpsichord Lesson.

] N an old manuscript we read that George Washington

presented to Nellie Custis, ‘at Philadelphia, a fine
harpsichord.” And then “ her grandmother | Mrs. Wash-
ington] made her practise upon it four or five hours a
day.” And her brother adds: ‘She would cry and play,
and play and cry for hours!”

Out of the past comes this picture of a little girl, sitting
at a tall spinet, or harpsichord, (which was the first kind of
piano), and someway to my mind comes also the picture
of that brother probably teasing a little at the parlor door,
as poor Nellie sat “playing and crying” ; for if brothers
were then what they are to-day, that is very likely just
what he did.

Dear little maid! 1 can see her as she sat, toiling
away for hours with her warm little fingers, and with her
toes dangling down from a tall stool, in front of that old
harpsichord.

Out of doors the sun was shining warm and soft. The
birds were calling to her to say how lovely it was out
there, and the roses nodding in at the window beckoned
her to come and play with them.





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The ‘harpsichord Desson.

Her brother, with a wild swirl on his way to the garden, stopped to laugh at her tears, and only made
them worse. She evidently did not love music; but in those days little girls, and boys, too, had to do as
the “grown-ups” told them to, and never thought of rebelling. And harpsichords were very few in this
country when it was a new country, long ago; and so it was a great treat to many people who came to
her grandfather's house, to hear one played.

Dear little Nellie Custis! I wonder how many, many little girls since her time have sat as she
did, and worked as hard to make black dots on lines of music go on white and black keys of ivory.

That very same harpsichord is still standing in the dim old room in the mansion where she lived; and
as you see it, with its tall legs, there is always a picture of a little girl, whose weary fingers wandered up and
down its key-board, learning to make music for others to enjoy.







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Out of History's dusty page Practising the long hours through,
Comes a little maiden, Scales and stately measure,
Probably about your age, Patient, learning things to do

With sweet graces laden. Sust for others pleasure.
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The Minuet.

AY back in the long ago,—yes, away back when
George Washington was a doy, they danced the
minuet—our dear little Great-Grandmothers and manly
little Great-Grandfathers, Zey did n’t know that they
were Great-Grandfathers and Great-Grandmothers, but we
know, for they were our own, and here we are!

In rows they stood—the billowy silken skirts of the
girls opposite the velvet coats and satin knee-breeches of
the boys. It was the loveliest dress to wear in that
stately dance. The long coats of rich colors on the
boyish figures, and rustling silken skirts on the sweet
girls swaying to and fro in the slow figures.

With a sweeping rustling curtsy, with a bend of the
satin waistcoats, with a sweet chord on the spinet and
guitar, the dance began. Back and forth went the solemn
little folks, never faster than a walk, keeping time to
the delightful one, two, three of the music—crossing
and re-crossing in the different figures, following the head
couples in a stately march—two and two. Now bending “&.% i


The Minuet.



in graceful curtsys, while the little cavaliers knelt and saluted the tips of dimpled fingers, then holding
aloft silken scarfs in airy folds, entwining and interlacing all together. Soft and sweet the chords of music,

dark the shining floors, reflecting bright candle lights and dainty satin-clad feet.
beautiful gowns and coats, and sweet, oh! sweet, the dimpled rosy faces of the dear little children, as they

trod the sober measures of that most graceful of dances—the minuet of the long ago!

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Dreaming before the Old
Five=Place.

HERE she sits in front of the fire, dreaming the
dreams that a little maid dreams when twilight and
bedtime are coming on, and the flames curl themselves so
easily into the long golden hair of floating fairies. Then
in the old mirror over the chimney are reflected all the
dear old nursery friends of tale and rhyme and Mother
Goose. Puss-in-boots is there, and princesses, stern old
knights, and helpful little fairies, who always make things
come right in the stories.

And in the centre of all, there is the enchanting Prince,
whose curls of gold float out, and who smiles down into
her eyes as she sits and dreams of him—so brave, and
gallant, and gay! The room is full of her fancies, and
they come down and take her hand, and touch her eyes so
that she sees in the glowing coals castles, turrets, knights,
and burning cities.

Sit down by the big fire yourself some night, when
you ’re tired of play, just before bedtime, and look for
them all in that big bed of coals, tucked in among the
logs and flames. See that burning bridge! There isa
galloping dragon with smoke from his eyes coming over

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Dreaming before the Old Fire=Place.



it, and swiftly it burns, and just as he gets to the centre, crash down it goes, burnt
through by the fire-sword of a trusty flame-fairy. Down go two ends of a burnt
brand, and the bridge becomes a burning castle, with windows all where the black
places are. Over there is a tiger with glowing eyes, coming out of the smoke, and
those little blue and yellow flames are graceful fire-fairies, waving and vanishing
up the dark old chimney. Oh, it is the best place of all to dream beside, and to
see pictures in at twilight. Try it and see for yourselves. And now—yjust as the
dark is curtaining the light in the windows, so that the glowing fire-fairies can come
out and fill all the corners of the room, and just as you are having such a very good
time seeing them all and telling about them, the door opens, and somebody, nurse
perhaps, says that bedtime has come!

Here across the page you go—little figures clad in long white robes, with
very sleepy eyes, full of the dreams you are going to have, with candles in hand,
with locks neatly tucked up, curled up,
and covered with caps for the night. With
bare feet, going across the hall and up
the stairs away you all go—into the soft
beds in the nursery, waiting like white
ships to carry you all across the sea of
night into the Island of Dreamland, where
all the fire-light stories and dreams come
true, and last for the whole night through.







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The Fencing Lesson.



ILFRED’S father’s friend, the Gentleman from |
France, was Wilfred’s hero in everything. He
was so brave, so handsome, so clever, and so full of
song and story of strange, interesting life across the seas,
told in his pretty broken speech, part English, part
French. Pet
The Gentleman from France had no other name to
Wilfred and the children, for it was the only one they
ever found out that he had. No one would tell them
‘al any other. He was a rather mysterious gentleman, for
en he came suddenly one night, and the children, finding
we pull S : him at breakfast next morning, were bidden to ask no

\ “ i iv questions, and he just stayed on in their home. They all
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loved him, Wilfred especially, for he was so jolly, and so
fond of playing with them. But sometimes he used to
sit and look very sad, and then if the children spoke to
him, he would answer them in French, with a far-away
look in his eyes.

One day, when Wilfred was taking his lesson in French
from the Gentleman, he asked about those two long, thin
swords which hung crossed on the wall, over the picture
of a dark-haired lady, in the Gentleman’s room.

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The Fencing Lesson.



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The Gentleman from France turned quickly away and looked out of the window, saying nothing for
a long while.

Then he turned to Wilfred standing asking there, and said, “It is a long, thin, cruel sword—very
little—very thin—but it killed my friend. It is for that I came to America.” .

Wilfred was very much interested, and after waiting a long time, while the Gentleman from France
looked sadly far out of the window, he said, ‘I should like to know how to use the long thin sword.” The
Gentleman turned about quickly, and laughed the sadness out of his eyes, saying, “ Boys are all alike, of every
country. Over in France, every gentleman knows how to use these swords. Come, I will teach you.” So
he took a pair of foils, and they went out on the sunny piazza, and there Wilfred had his first lesson jn
fencing. ;

After that, this Gentleman from France taught all the boys in the neighborhood, as all their parents
were glad of so good a chance for having their sons learn this gentlemanly art ; for, in those warlike days,
it was deemed very necessary for every man to know how to use a sword in his own or his country’s defence.

And what a good time they had! How exciting it was to get their foils, and gloves, and masks, and
to throw off their coats, and learn to parry, and thrust, and bend, with the fascinating, long, thin steel
foils glancing in the sunshine. Of course these had little buttons on the ends, so no one could get hurt,
and the handsome Gentleman from France became very excited and jolly over it all.

And so it came about, that while poor little Prudence had to stay in the house and learn to embroider,
and spin, and sew, Wilfred, out on the lawn in the healthful sunlight, was taught to use the foils as a
gentleman should.






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COPYRIGHT, 1894, SY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY.

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