THE BROWNIES' BIRTHDAY DINNER.

WHILEBrownies moved around one nightA seaside race-track came in sight."'T is here," said one, "the finest breedOf horses often show their speed;Here, neck and neck, and nose and nose,Beneath the jockeys' urging blows,They sweep around the level mileThe people shouting all the while;And climbing up or crowding throughTo gain a better point of view,So they can see beyond a doubtHow favorites are holding out."Another said: "I know the placeWhere horses wait to-morrow's race;We'll strap the saddles on their back,And lead them out upon the track.Then some will act the jockey's part,And some, as judges, watch the start,And drop the crimson flag to showThe start is fair and all must go."Ere long, the Brownies turned to haulEach wondering race-horse from his stall.They bridled them without delay,And saddles strapped in proper way.Some restless horses rearing thereWould toss their holders high in air,And test the courage and the artOf those who took an active part.Said one: "I've lurked in yonder wood,And watched the races when I could.I know how all is done with careWhen thus for racing they prepare;How every buckle must be tight,And every strap and stirrup right,Or jockeys would be on the groundBefore they circled half way round."When all was ready for the showEach Brownie rogue was nowise slowAt climbing up to take a placeAnd be a jockey in the race.Full half a dozen Brownies triedUpon one saddle now to ride;But some were into service pressedAs judges to control the rest—To see that rules were kept complete,And then decide who won the heat.A dozen times they tried to start;Some shot ahead like jockeys smart,And were prepared to take the leadAround the track at flying speed.But others were so far behind,On horses of unruly mind,The judges from the stand declareThe start was anything but fair.So back they'd jog at his command,In better shape to pass the stand.Indeed it was no simple trickTo ride those horses, shy and quick,And only for the mystic artThat is the Brownies' special part,A dozen backs, at least, had foundA resting-place upon the ground.The rules of racing were not quiteObserved in full upon that night.Around and round the track they flew,In spite of all the judge could do.The race, he tried to let them know,Had been decided long ago.But still the horses kept the track,With Brownies clinging to each back.Some racers of the jumping kindAt times disturbed the riders' mindWhen from the track they sudden wheeled,And over fences took the field,As if they hoped in some such modeTo rid themselves of half their load.But horses, howsoever smart,Are not a match for Brownie art,For still the riders stuck through all,In spite of fence, or ditch, or wall.Some clung to saddle, some to mane,While others tugged at bridle rein.So all the steeds found it would payTo let the Brownies have their way,Until a glimpse of rising sunSoon made them leave the place and run.

HILEBrownies moved around one night

A seaside race-track came in sight.

"'T is here," said one, "the finest breed

Of horses often show their speed;

Here, neck and neck, and nose and nose,

Beneath the jockeys' urging blows,

They sweep around the level mile

The people shouting all the while;

And climbing up or crowding through

To gain a better point of view,

So they can see beyond a doubt

How favorites are holding out."

Another said: "I know the place

Where horses wait to-morrow's race;

We'll strap the saddles on their back,

And lead them out upon the track.

Then some will act the jockey's part,

And some, as judges, watch the start,

And drop the crimson flag to show

The start is fair and all must go."

Ere long, the Brownies turned to haul

Each wondering race-horse from his stall.

They bridled them without delay,

And saddles strapped in proper way.

Some restless horses rearing there

Would toss their holders high in air,

And test the courage and the art

Of those who took an active part.

Said one: "I've lurked in yonder wood,

And watched the races when I could.

I know how all is done with care

When thus for racing they prepare;

How every buckle must be tight,

And every strap and stirrup right,

Or jockeys would be on the ground

Before they circled half way round."

When all was ready for the show

Each Brownie rogue was nowise slow

At climbing up to take a place

And be a jockey in the race.

Full half a dozen Brownies tried

Upon one saddle now to ride;

But some were into service pressed

As judges to control the rest—

To see that rules were kept complete,

And then decide who won the heat.

A dozen times they tried to start;

Some shot ahead like jockeys smart,

And were prepared to take the lead

Around the track at flying speed.

But others were so far behind,

On horses of unruly mind,

The judges from the stand declare

The start was anything but fair.

So back they'd jog at his command,In better shape to pass the stand.Indeed it was no simple trickTo ride those horses, shy and quick,And only for the mystic artThat is the Brownies' special part,A dozen backs, at least, had foundA resting-place upon the ground.

So back they'd jog at his command,

In better shape to pass the stand.

Indeed it was no simple trick

To ride those horses, shy and quick,

And only for the mystic art

That is the Brownies' special part,

A dozen backs, at least, had found

A resting-place upon the ground.

The rules of racing were not quiteObserved in full upon that night.Around and round the track they flew,In spite of all the judge could do.The race, he tried to let them know,Had been decided long ago.But still the horses kept the track,With Brownies clinging to each back.

The rules of racing were not quite

Observed in full upon that night.

Around and round the track they flew,

In spite of all the judge could do.

The race, he tried to let them know,

Had been decided long ago.

But still the horses kept the track,

With Brownies clinging to each back.

Some racers of the jumping kindAt times disturbed the riders' mindWhen from the track they sudden wheeled,And over fences took the field,As if they hoped in some such modeTo rid themselves of half their load.But horses, howsoever smart,Are not a match for Brownie art,For still the riders stuck through all,In spite of fence, or ditch, or wall.Some clung to saddle, some to mane,While others tugged at bridle rein.

Some racers of the jumping kind

At times disturbed the riders' mind

When from the track they sudden wheeled,

And over fences took the field,

As if they hoped in some such mode

To rid themselves of half their load.

But horses, howsoever smart,

Are not a match for Brownie art,

For still the riders stuck through all,

In spite of fence, or ditch, or wall.

Some clung to saddle, some to mane,

While others tugged at bridle rein.

So all the steeds found it would payTo let the Brownies have their way,Until a glimpse of rising sunSoon made them leave the place and run.

So all the steeds found it would pay

To let the Brownies have their way,

Until a glimpse of rising sun

Soon made them leave the place and run.

WHENpeople through the county plannedTo give their public dinners grand,The Brownies met at day's declineTo have a birthday banquet fine."The proper things," a speaker cried,"Await us here on every side;We simply have to reach and takeAnd choose a place to boil and bake.With meal and flour at our feet,And wells of water pure and sweet,That Brownie must be dull indeedWho lacks the gumption to proceed.We'll peel the pumpkins, ripened well,And scoop them hollow, like a shell,Then slice them up the proper sizeTo make at length those famous pies,For which the people, small and great,Are ever quick to reach a plate."This pleased them all; so none were slowIn finding work at which to go.A stove that chance threw in their wayWas put in shape without delay.Though doors were cracked, and legs were rare,The spacious oven still was there,Where pies and cakes and puddings wideMight bake together side by side.

HENpeople through the county planned

To give their public dinners grand,

The Brownies met at day's decline

To have a birthday banquet fine.

"The proper things," a speaker cried,

"Await us here on every side;

We simply have to reach and take

And choose a place to boil and bake.

With meal and flour at our feet,

And wells of water pure and sweet,

That Brownie must be dull indeed

Who lacks the gumption to proceed.

We'll peel the pumpkins, ripened well,

And scoop them hollow, like a shell,

Then slice them up the proper size

To make at length those famous pies,

For which the people, small and great,

Are ever quick to reach a plate."

This pleased them all; so none were slow

In finding work at which to go.

A stove that chance threw in their way

Was put in shape without delay.

Though doors were cracked, and legs were rare,

The spacious oven still was there,

Where pies and cakes and puddings wide

Might bake together side by side.

The level top, though incomplete,Gave pots and pans a welcome seat,Where stews could steam and dumplings foundA fitting place to roll around.Some lengths of pipe were raised on highThat made the soot and cinders fly,And caused a draught throughout the wreckThat door or damper failed to check.The rogues who undertook the part,That tries the cook's delightful art,Had smarting hands and faces redBefore the table-cloth was spread;But what cared they at such an hourFor singeing flame or scalding shower?Such ills are always reckoned slightWhen great successes are in sight.There cakes and tarts and cookies fine,Of both the "leaf" and "notched" design,Were ranged in rows around the panThat into heated ovens ran;Where, in what seemed a minute's space,Another batch would take their place;While birds, that had secured reposeAbove the reach of Reynard's nose,Without the aid of wings came downTo be at midnight roasted brown.They found some boards and benches laidAside by workmen at their trade,And these upon the green were placedBy willing hands with proper haste.Said one, who board and bench combined:"All art is not to cooks confined,And some expertness we can showAs well as those who mix the dough."And all was as the speaker said;In fact, they were some points ahead;For when the cooks their triumphs showed,The table waited for its load.The knives and forks and dishes whiteBy secret methods came to light.Much space would be required to tellJust how the table looked so well;But kitchen cupboards, three or four,Must there have yielded up their store;For all the guests on every sideWith full equipments were supplied.When people find a carver hacked,A saucer chipped, or platter cracked,They should be somewhat slow to claimThat servants are the ones to blame;For Brownies may have used the wareAnd failed to show the proper care.A few, as waiters, passed aboutNew dishes when the old gave out,And saw the plates, as soon as bare,Were heaped again with something rare.No member, as you may believe,Was anxious such a place to leave,Until he had a taste at leastOf all the dishes in the feast.The Brownies, when they break their fast,Will eat as long as viands last,And even birds can not dependOn crumbs or pickings at the end:The plates were scraped, the kettles clean,And not a morsel to be seen,Ere Brownies from that table ranTo shun the prying eyes of man.

The level top, though incomplete,

Gave pots and pans a welcome seat,

Where stews could steam and dumplings found

A fitting place to roll around.

Some lengths of pipe were raised on high

That made the soot and cinders fly,

And caused a draught throughout the wreck

That door or damper failed to check.

The rogues who undertook the part,

That tries the cook's delightful art,

Had smarting hands and faces red

Before the table-cloth was spread;

But what cared they at such an hour

For singeing flame or scalding shower?

Such ills are always reckoned slight

When great successes are in sight.

There cakes and tarts and cookies fine,

Of both the "leaf" and "notched" design,

Were ranged in rows around the pan

That into heated ovens ran;

Where, in what seemed a minute's space,

Another batch would take their place;

While birds, that had secured repose

Above the reach of Reynard's nose,

Without the aid of wings came down

To be at midnight roasted brown.

They found some boards and benches laid

Aside by workmen at their trade,

And these upon the green were placed

By willing hands with proper haste.

Said one, who board and bench combined:

"All art is not to cooks confined,

And some expertness we can show

As well as those who mix the dough."

And all was as the speaker said;

In fact, they were some points ahead;

For when the cooks their triumphs showed,

The table waited for its load.

The knives and forks and dishes white

By secret methods came to light.

Much space would be required to tell

Just how the table looked so well;

But kitchen cupboards, three or four,

Must there have yielded up their store;

For all the guests on every side

With full equipments were supplied.

When people find a carver hacked,

A saucer chipped, or platter cracked,

They should be somewhat slow to claim

That servants are the ones to blame;

For Brownies may have used the ware

And failed to show the proper care.

A few, as waiters, passed aboutNew dishes when the old gave out,And saw the plates, as soon as bare,Were heaped again with something rare.No member, as you may believe,Was anxious such a place to leave,Until he had a taste at leastOf all the dishes in the feast.The Brownies, when they break their fast,Will eat as long as viands last,And even birds can not dependOn crumbs or pickings at the end:The plates were scraped, the kettles clean,And not a morsel to be seen,Ere Brownies from that table ranTo shun the prying eyes of man.

A few, as waiters, passed about

New dishes when the old gave out,

And saw the plates, as soon as bare,

Were heaped again with something rare.

No member, as you may believe,

Was anxious such a place to leave,

Until he had a taste at least

Of all the dishes in the feast.

The Brownies, when they break their fast,

Will eat as long as viands last,

And even birds can not depend

On crumbs or pickings at the end:

The plates were scraped, the kettles clean,

And not a morsel to be seen,

Ere Brownies from that table ran

To shun the prying eyes of man.

ONHallow-eve, that night of fun,When elves and goblins frisk and run,And many games and tricks are triedAt every pleasant fireside,The Brownies halted to surveyA village that below them lay,And wondered as they rested thereTo hear the laughter fill the airThat from the happy children cameAs they enjoyed some pleasant game.Said one: "What means this merry flowThat comes so loudly from below,Uncommon pleasures must aboundWhere so much laughter can be found."Another said: "Now, by your leave,I'll tell you 't is All-Hallow-eve,When people meet to have their sportAt curious games of every sort;I know them all from first to last,And now, before the night has passed,For some convenient place we'll startWithout delay to play our part."Two dozen mouths commenced to showTheir teeth in white and even row;Two dozen voices cried with speed,"The plan is good we're all agreed."

NHallow-eve, that night of fun,

When elves and goblins frisk and run,

And many games and tricks are tried

At every pleasant fireside,

The Brownies halted to survey

A village that below them lay,

And wondered as they rested there

To hear the laughter fill the air

That from the happy children came

As they enjoyed some pleasant game.

Said one: "What means this merry flow

That comes so loudly from below,

Uncommon pleasures must abound

Where so much laughter can be found."

Another said: "Now, by your leave,

I'll tell you 't is All-Hallow-eve,

When people meet to have their sport

At curious games of every sort;

I know them all from first to last,

And now, before the night has passed,

For some convenient place we'll start

Without delay to play our part."

Two dozen mouths commenced to show

Their teeth in white and even row;

Two dozen voices cried with speed,

"The plan is good we're all agreed."

And in a trice four dozen feetWent down the hill with even beat.Without a long or wearying raceThe Brownies soon secured a placeThat answered well in every wayFor all the games they wished to play.There tubs of water could be found,By which to stoop or kneel around,And strive to bring the pennies outThat on the bottom slipped about.Then heads were wet and shoulders, too,Where some would still the coin pursue,And mouth about now here and thereWithout a pause or breath of airUntil in pride, with joyful cries,They held aloft the captured prize.More stood the tempting bait beneath,And with a hasty snap of teethThe whirling apple thought to claimAnd shun the while the candle's flame,—But found that with such pleasure goesAn eye-brow singed, or blistered nose.More named the oats as people doTo try which hearts are false, which true,And on the griddle placed the pairTo let them part or smoulder there;And smiled to see, through woe or weal,How often hearts were true as steel.Still others tried to read their fateOr fortune in a dish or plate,Learn whether they would ever wed,Or lead a single life instead;Or if their mate would be a blessing,Or prove a partner most distressing.Then others in the open air,Of fun and frolic had their share;Played "hide and seek," and "blindman's buff,"And "tag" o'er places smooth or rough,And "snap the whip" and "trip the toe,"And games that none but Brownies know.As if their lives at stake were placed,They jumped around and dodged and raced,And tumbled headlong to the groundWhen feet some hard obstruction found;At times across the level mead,Some proved their special claims to speed,And as reward of merit woreA wreath of green till sport was o'er.The hours flew past as hours willWhen joys do every moment fill;The moon grew weak and said good-night,And turned her pallid face from sight;Then weakening stars began to fail,But still the Brownies kept the vale;Full many a time had hours retiredMuch faster than the band desired,And pleasure seemed too sweet to layAside, because of coming day,But never yet with greater painDid they behold the crimson stainThat morning spread along the sky,And told them they must homeward fly

And in a trice four dozen feet

Went down the hill with even beat.

Without a long or wearying race

The Brownies soon secured a place

That answered well in every way

For all the games they wished to play.

There tubs of water could be found,

By which to stoop or kneel around,

And strive to bring the pennies out

That on the bottom slipped about.

Then heads were wet and shoulders, too,

Where some would still the coin pursue,

And mouth about now here and there

Without a pause or breath of air

Until in pride, with joyful cries,

They held aloft the captured prize.

More stood the tempting bait beneath,

And with a hasty snap of teeth

The whirling apple thought to claim

And shun the while the candle's flame,—

But found that with such pleasure goes

An eye-brow singed, or blistered nose.

More named the oats as people do

To try which hearts are false, which true,

And on the griddle placed the pair

To let them part or smoulder there;

And smiled to see, through woe or weal,

How often hearts were true as steel.

Still others tried to read their fateOr fortune in a dish or plate,Learn whether they would ever wed,Or lead a single life instead;Or if their mate would be a blessing,Or prove a partner most distressing.

Still others tried to read their fate

Or fortune in a dish or plate,

Learn whether they would ever wed,

Or lead a single life instead;

Or if their mate would be a blessing,

Or prove a partner most distressing.

Then others in the open air,Of fun and frolic had their share;Played "hide and seek," and "blindman's buff,"And "tag" o'er places smooth or rough,And "snap the whip" and "trip the toe,"And games that none but Brownies know.As if their lives at stake were placed,They jumped around and dodged and raced,And tumbled headlong to the groundWhen feet some hard obstruction found;At times across the level mead,Some proved their special claims to speed,And as reward of merit woreA wreath of green till sport was o'er.The hours flew past as hours willWhen joys do every moment fill;The moon grew weak and said good-night,And turned her pallid face from sight;Then weakening stars began to fail,But still the Brownies kept the vale;Full many a time had hours retiredMuch faster than the band desired,And pleasure seemed too sweet to layAside, because of coming day,But never yet with greater painDid they behold the crimson stainThat morning spread along the sky,And told them they must homeward fly

Then others in the open air,

Of fun and frolic had their share;

Played "hide and seek," and "blindman's buff,"

And "tag" o'er places smooth or rough,

And "snap the whip" and "trip the toe,"

And games that none but Brownies know.

As if their lives at stake were placed,

They jumped around and dodged and raced,

And tumbled headlong to the ground

When feet some hard obstruction found;

At times across the level mead,

Some proved their special claims to speed,

And as reward of merit wore

A wreath of green till sport was o'er.

The hours flew past as hours will

When joys do every moment fill;

The moon grew weak and said good-night,

And turned her pallid face from sight;

Then weakening stars began to fail,

But still the Brownies kept the vale;

Full many a time had hours retired

Much faster than the band desired,

And pleasure seemed too sweet to lay

Aside, because of coming day,

But never yet with greater pain

Did they behold the crimson stain

That morning spread along the sky,

And told them they must homeward fly

THEBrownies through a village bound,Paused in their run to look around,And wondered why the central squareRevealed no flag-pole tall and fair.Said one: "Without delay we'll goTo woods that stand some miles below.The tall spruce lifts its tapering crestSo straight and high above the rest,We soon can choose a flag-pole thereTo ornament this village square.Then every one a hand will lendTo trim it off from end to end,To peel it smooth and paint it white,And hoist it in the square to-night."Then to the woods the Brownies ranAt once to carry out their plan;While some ran here and there with speedFor implements to serve their need,Some rambled through the forest freeTo find the proper kind of tree,Then climbed the tree while yet it stoodTo learn if it was sound and good,Without a flaw, a twist, or bend,To mar its looks from end to end.When one was found that suited well,To work the active Brownies fell;And soon with sticks beneath their load,The band in grand procession strode;It gave them quite enough to doTo safely put the project through,But when they reached the square, at last,Some ropes around the pole were passedAnd from the tops of maples tallA crowd began to pull and haul,While others gathered at the baseUntil the flag-pole stood in place.For Brownies seldom idle standWhen there is fun or work on hand.At night when darkness wraps us roundThey come from secret haunts profound,With brushes, pots of paint, and all,They clamber over fence and wall;And soon on objects here and thereThat hold positions high in air,And most attract the human eye,The marks of Brownie fingers lie.Sometimes with feet that never tireThey climb the tall cathedral spire;When all the town is still below,Save watchmen pacing to and fro,By light of moon, and stars alone,They dust the marble and the stone,And with their brushes, small and great,They paint and gild the dial-plate;And bring the figures plain in sightThat all may note Time's rapid flight.And accidents they often knowWhile through the heavy works they go,Where slowly turning wheels at lastIn bad position hold them fast.But Brownies, notwithstanding allThe hardships that may them befall,Still persevere in every caseTill morning drives them from the place.And then with happy hearts they flyTo hide away from human eye.

HEBrownies through a village bound,

Paused in their run to look around,

And wondered why the central square

Revealed no flag-pole tall and fair.

Said one: "Without delay we'll go

To woods that stand some miles below.

The tall spruce lifts its tapering crest

So straight and high above the rest,

We soon can choose a flag-pole there

To ornament this village square.

Then every one a hand will lend

To trim it off from end to end,

To peel it smooth and paint it white,

And hoist it in the square to-night."

Then to the woods the Brownies ranAt once to carry out their plan;While some ran here and there with speedFor implements to serve their need,Some rambled through the forest freeTo find the proper kind of tree,Then climbed the tree while yet it stoodTo learn if it was sound and good,Without a flaw, a twist, or bend,To mar its looks from end to end.When one was found that suited well,To work the active Brownies fell;And soon with sticks beneath their load,The band in grand procession strode;It gave them quite enough to doTo safely put the project through,But when they reached the square, at last,Some ropes around the pole were passedAnd from the tops of maples tallA crowd began to pull and haul,While others gathered at the baseUntil the flag-pole stood in place.For Brownies seldom idle standWhen there is fun or work on hand.At night when darkness wraps us roundThey come from secret haunts profound,With brushes, pots of paint, and all,They clamber over fence and wall;And soon on objects here and thereThat hold positions high in air,And most attract the human eye,The marks of Brownie fingers lie.Sometimes with feet that never tireThey climb the tall cathedral spire;When all the town is still below,Save watchmen pacing to and fro,By light of moon, and stars alone,They dust the marble and the stone,And with their brushes, small and great,They paint and gild the dial-plate;And bring the figures plain in sightThat all may note Time's rapid flight.And accidents they often knowWhile through the heavy works they go,Where slowly turning wheels at lastIn bad position hold them fast.But Brownies, notwithstanding allThe hardships that may them befall,Still persevere in every caseTill morning drives them from the place.And then with happy hearts they flyTo hide away from human eye.

Then to the woods the Brownies ran

At once to carry out their plan;

While some ran here and there with speed

For implements to serve their need,

Some rambled through the forest free

To find the proper kind of tree,

Then climbed the tree while yet it stood

To learn if it was sound and good,

Without a flaw, a twist, or bend,

To mar its looks from end to end.

When one was found that suited well,

To work the active Brownies fell;

And soon with sticks beneath their load,

The band in grand procession strode;

It gave them quite enough to do

To safely put the project through,

But when they reached the square, at last,

Some ropes around the pole were passed

And from the tops of maples tall

A crowd began to pull and haul,

While others gathered at the base

Until the flag-pole stood in place.

For Brownies seldom idle stand

When there is fun or work on hand.

At night when darkness wraps us round

They come from secret haunts profound,

With brushes, pots of paint, and all,

They clamber over fence and wall;

And soon on objects here and there

That hold positions high in air,

And most attract the human eye,

The marks of Brownie fingers lie.

Sometimes with feet that never tire

They climb the tall cathedral spire;

When all the town is still below,

Save watchmen pacing to and fro,

By light of moon, and stars alone,

They dust the marble and the stone,

And with their brushes, small and great,

They paint and gild the dial-plate;

And bring the figures plain in sight

That all may note Time's rapid flight.

And accidents they often know

While through the heavy works they go,

Where slowly turning wheels at last

In bad position hold them fast.

But Brownies, notwithstanding all

The hardships that may them befall,

Still persevere in every case

Till morning drives them from the place.

And then with happy hearts they fly

To hide away from human eye.

ONEnight the Brownies stood besideA long canal, whose silent tideConnected seaboard cities greatWith inland sections of the state.The laden boats, so large and strong,Were tied to trees by hawsers long;No boatmen stood by helm or oar,No mules were tugging on the shore;All work on land and water tooHad been abandoned by the crew.Said one: "We see, without a doubt,What some dispute has brought about.Perhaps a strike for greater pay,For even rates, or shorter day,Has caused the boats to loiter hereWith cargoes costing some one dear.These cabbages so large and roundShould, long ere this, the dish have found,Upon some kitchen-stove or rangeTo spread an odor rich and strange;Those squashes, too, should not be lostBy long exposure to the frost,When they would prove so great a prizeTo old and young, if baked in pies.And then those pippins, ripe and fair,From some fine orchard picked with care,Should not to rot and ruin go,Though work is hard or wages low,When thousands would be glad to stewThe smallest apples there in view."Another said: "We lack the mightTo set the wrongs of labor right,But by the power within us placedWe'll see that nothing goes to waste.So every hand must be appliedThat boats upon their way may glide."Then some ran here and there with speedTo find a team to suit their need.A pair of mules, that grazed aboutThe grassy banks, were fitted outWith straps and ropes without delayTo start the boats upon their way;And next some straying goats were found,Where in a yard they nibbled roundDestroying plants of rarest kindThat owners in the town could find.Soon, taken from their rich repast,They found themselves in harness fast;Then into active service pressedThey trod the tow-path with the rest.On deck some Brownies took their standTo man the helm, or give command,And oversee the work; while moreStayed with the teams upon the shore.At times the rope would drag alongAnd catch on snags or branches long,And cause delays they ill could bear,For little time they had to spare.With accidents they often met,And some were bruised and more were wet;Some tumbled headlong down the hold;And some from heaping cargoes rolled.But what care Brownies for a bruise,Or garments wet, from hat to shoes,When enterprises bold and newMust ere the dawn be carried through?If half the band were drenched, no doubtThe work would still be carried out,For extra strength would then be foundIn those who still were safe and sound.But once, when "low bridge!" was the shoutThey stood and stared or ran aboutTill in the water, heels o'er head,Some members of the band were spread.A few could swim, and held their own;But more went downward like a stoneUntil, without the plummet's aid,They learned how deep canals are made.In spite of all the kicks and flingsThat fright at such a moment brings,Through lack of art, or weight of fear,It looked as if their end was near.The order now to stop the teamWould pass along with sign and scream,And those on land would know by thisThat something startling was amiss;And those on board could plainly seeUnless assistance there could be,In shape of ropes and fingers strong,There'd be some vacancies, ere long!By chance a net was to be had,That boatmen used for catching shad—A gill-net of the strongest kind,For heavy catches well designed;Few shad against its meshes ranBut left their bones on some one's pan,This bulky thing the active crewFar overboard with promptness threw.A hold at once some Brownies found,While others in its folds were bound,Until like fish in great dismayInside the net they struggling lay.But willing hands were overhead,And quickly from the muddy bedWhere shedder crabs and turtles crawledThe dripping net was upward hauled,With all the Brownies clinging fast,Till safe on deck they stood at last.Sometimes a mule fell off the roadAnd in the stream with all its load.Then precious time would be consumedBefore the trip could be resumed.Thus on they went from mile to mile,With many strange mishaps the while,But working bravely through the nightUntil the city came in sight.Said one: "Now, thanks to bearded goatsAnd patient mules, the heavy boatsFor hours have glided on their way,And reached the waters of the bay.But see, the sun's about to showHis colors to the world below,And other birds than those of nightBegin to take their morning flight.Our time is up; we've done our best;The ebbing tide must do the rest;Now drifting downward to their pierLet barges unassisted steer,While we make haste, with nimble feet,To find in woods a safe retreat."

NEnight the Brownies stood beside

A long canal, whose silent tide

Connected seaboard cities great

With inland sections of the state.

The laden boats, so large and strong,

Were tied to trees by hawsers long;

No boatmen stood by helm or oar,

No mules were tugging on the shore;

All work on land and water too

Had been abandoned by the crew.

Said one: "We see, without a doubt,

What some dispute has brought about.

Perhaps a strike for greater pay,

For even rates, or shorter day,

Has caused the boats to loiter here

With cargoes costing some one dear.

These cabbages so large and round

Should, long ere this, the dish have found,

Upon some kitchen-stove or range

To spread an odor rich and strange;

Those squashes, too, should not be lost

By long exposure to the frost,

When they would prove so great a prize

To old and young, if baked in pies.

And then those pippins, ripe and fair,

From some fine orchard picked with care,

Should not to rot and ruin go,

Though work is hard or wages low,

When thousands would be glad to stew

The smallest apples there in view."

Another said: "We lack the might

To set the wrongs of labor right,

But by the power within us placed

We'll see that nothing goes to waste.

So every hand must be applied

That boats upon their way may glide."

Then some ran here and there with speedTo find a team to suit their need.A pair of mules, that grazed aboutThe grassy banks, were fitted outWith straps and ropes without delayTo start the boats upon their way;And next some straying goats were found,Where in a yard they nibbled roundDestroying plants of rarest kindThat owners in the town could find.Soon, taken from their rich repast,They found themselves in harness fast;Then into active service pressedThey trod the tow-path with the rest.

Then some ran here and there with speed

To find a team to suit their need.

A pair of mules, that grazed about

The grassy banks, were fitted out

With straps and ropes without delay

To start the boats upon their way;

And next some straying goats were found,

Where in a yard they nibbled round

Destroying plants of rarest kind

That owners in the town could find.

Soon, taken from their rich repast,

They found themselves in harness fast;

Then into active service pressed

They trod the tow-path with the rest.

On deck some Brownies took their standTo man the helm, or give command,And oversee the work; while moreStayed with the teams upon the shore.At times the rope would drag alongAnd catch on snags or branches long,And cause delays they ill could bear,For little time they had to spare.

On deck some Brownies took their stand

To man the helm, or give command,

And oversee the work; while more

Stayed with the teams upon the shore.

At times the rope would drag along

And catch on snags or branches long,

And cause delays they ill could bear,

For little time they had to spare.

With accidents they often met,And some were bruised and more were wet;Some tumbled headlong down the hold;And some from heaping cargoes rolled.

With accidents they often met,

And some were bruised and more were wet;

Some tumbled headlong down the hold;

And some from heaping cargoes rolled.

But what care Brownies for a bruise,Or garments wet, from hat to shoes,When enterprises bold and newMust ere the dawn be carried through?If half the band were drenched, no doubtThe work would still be carried out,For extra strength would then be foundIn those who still were safe and sound.

But what care Brownies for a bruise,

Or garments wet, from hat to shoes,

When enterprises bold and new

Must ere the dawn be carried through?

If half the band were drenched, no doubt

The work would still be carried out,

For extra strength would then be found

In those who still were safe and sound.

But once, when "low bridge!" was the shoutThey stood and stared or ran aboutTill in the water, heels o'er head,Some members of the band were spread.

But once, when "low bridge!" was the shout

They stood and stared or ran about

Till in the water, heels o'er head,

Some members of the band were spread.

A few could swim, and held their own;But more went downward like a stoneUntil, without the plummet's aid,They learned how deep canals are made.In spite of all the kicks and flingsThat fright at such a moment brings,Through lack of art, or weight of fear,It looked as if their end was near.The order now to stop the teamWould pass along with sign and scream,And those on land would know by thisThat something startling was amiss;And those on board could plainly seeUnless assistance there could be,In shape of ropes and fingers strong,There'd be some vacancies, ere long!By chance a net was to be had,That boatmen used for catching shad—A gill-net of the strongest kind,For heavy catches well designed;Few shad against its meshes ranBut left their bones on some one's pan,This bulky thing the active crewFar overboard with promptness threw.A hold at once some Brownies found,While others in its folds were bound,Until like fish in great dismayInside the net they struggling lay.But willing hands were overhead,And quickly from the muddy bedWhere shedder crabs and turtles crawledThe dripping net was upward hauled,With all the Brownies clinging fast,Till safe on deck they stood at last.

A few could swim, and held their own;

But more went downward like a stone

Until, without the plummet's aid,

They learned how deep canals are made.

In spite of all the kicks and flings

That fright at such a moment brings,

Through lack of art, or weight of fear,

It looked as if their end was near.

The order now to stop the team

Would pass along with sign and scream,

And those on land would know by this

That something startling was amiss;

And those on board could plainly see

Unless assistance there could be,

In shape of ropes and fingers strong,

There'd be some vacancies, ere long!

By chance a net was to be had,

That boatmen used for catching shad—

A gill-net of the strongest kind,

For heavy catches well designed;

Few shad against its meshes ran

But left their bones on some one's pan,

This bulky thing the active crew

Far overboard with promptness threw.

A hold at once some Brownies found,

While others in its folds were bound,

Until like fish in great dismay

Inside the net they struggling lay.

But willing hands were overhead,

And quickly from the muddy bed

Where shedder crabs and turtles crawled

The dripping net was upward hauled,

With all the Brownies clinging fast,

Till safe on deck they stood at last.

Sometimes a mule fell off the roadAnd in the stream with all its load.Then precious time would be consumedBefore the trip could be resumed.Thus on they went from mile to mile,With many strange mishaps the while,But working bravely through the nightUntil the city came in sight.

Sometimes a mule fell off the road

And in the stream with all its load.

Then precious time would be consumed

Before the trip could be resumed.

Thus on they went from mile to mile,

With many strange mishaps the while,

But working bravely through the night

Until the city came in sight.

Said one: "Now, thanks to bearded goatsAnd patient mules, the heavy boatsFor hours have glided on their way,And reached the waters of the bay.But see, the sun's about to showHis colors to the world below,And other birds than those of nightBegin to take their morning flight.Our time is up; we've done our best;The ebbing tide must do the rest;Now drifting downward to their pierLet barges unassisted steer,While we make haste, with nimble feet,To find in woods a safe retreat."

Said one: "Now, thanks to bearded goats

And patient mules, the heavy boats

For hours have glided on their way,

And reached the waters of the bay.

But see, the sun's about to show

His colors to the world below,

And other birds than those of night

Begin to take their morning flight.

Our time is up; we've done our best;

The ebbing tide must do the rest;

Now drifting downward to their pier

Let barges unassisted steer,

While we make haste, with nimble feet,

To find in woods a safe retreat."

THEBrownies once approached in gleeA slumbering city by the sea."In yonder town," the leader cried,"I hear the artist does resideWho pictures out, with patient hand,The doings of the Brownie band.""I'd freely give," another said,"The cap that now protects my head,To find the room, where, day by day,He shows us at our work or play."A third replied: "Your cap retainTo shield your poll from snow or rain.His studio is farther down,Within a corner-building brown.So follow me a mile or moreAnd soon we'll reach the office door."Then through the park, around the square,And down the broadest thoroughfare,The anxious Brownies quickly passed,And reached the building huge at last.They paused awhile to view the sight,To speak about its age and height,And read the signs, so long and wide,That met the gaze on every side.But little time was wasted there,For soon their feet had found the stair.And next the room, where oft are toldTheir funny actions, free and bold,Was honored by a friendly callFrom all the Brownies, great and small.Then what a gallery they found,As here and there they moved around—For now they gaze upon a sceneThat showed them sporting on the green;Then, hastening o'er the fields with speedTo help some farmer in his need.Said one, "Upon this desk, no doubt,Where now we cluster round about,Our doings have been plainly toldFrom month to month, through heat and cold.And there's the ink, I apprehend,On which our very lives depend.Be careful, moving to and fro,Lest we upset it as we go.For who can tell what tales untoldThat darksome liquid may unfold!"A telephone gave great delightTo those who tried it half the night,Some asking after fresh supplies;Or if their stocks were on the rise;What ship was safe; what bank was firm;Or who desired a second term.Thus messages ran to and froWith "Who are you?" "Hallo!" "Hallo!"And all the repetitions knownTo those who use the telephone."Oh, here's the pen, as I opine,"Said one, "that's written every line;Indebted to this pen are weFor all our fame and history.""See here," another said, "I've foundThe pointed pencil, long and round,That pictures all our looks so wise,Our smiles so broad and staring eyes;'Tis well it draws us all aright,Or we might bear it off to-night.But glad are we to have our nameIn every region known to fame,To know that children lisp our praise,And on our faces love to gaze."Old pistols that brave service knewAt Bunker Hill, were brought to viewIn mimic duels on the floor,And snapped at paces three or four;While from the foils the Brownies plied,The sparks in showers scattered wide,As thrust and parry, cut and guard,In swift succession followed hard.The British and Mongolian slashWere tried in turn with brilliant dash,Till foils, and skill, and temper too,Were amply tested through and through.They found old shields that bore the dintOf spears and arrow-heads of flint,And held them up in proper pose;Then rained upon them Spartan blows.Lay figures, draped in ancient styles,From some drew graceful bows and smiles,Until the laugh of comrades nighLed them to look with sharper eye.A portrait now they criticize,Which every one could recognize:The features, garments, and the style,Soon brought to every face a smile.Some tried a hand at painting there,And showed their skill was something rare;While others talked and rummaged throughThe desk to find the stories new,That told about some late affair,Of which the world was not aware.But pleasure seemed to have the powerTo hasten every passing hour,And bring too soon the morning chime,However well they note the time.Now, from a chapel's brazen bell,The startling hint of morning fell,And Brownies realized the needOf leaving for their haunts with speed.So down the staircase to the streetThey made their way with nimble feet,And ere the sun could show his face,The band had reached a hiding-place.

THEBrownies once approached in glee

A slumbering city by the sea.

"In yonder town," the leader cried,

"I hear the artist does reside

Who pictures out, with patient hand,

The doings of the Brownie band."

"I'd freely give," another said,

"The cap that now protects my head,

To find the room, where, day by day,

He shows us at our work or play."

A third replied: "Your cap retain

To shield your poll from snow or rain.

His studio is farther down,

Within a corner-building brown.

So follow me a mile or more

And soon we'll reach the office door."

Then through the park, around the square,

And down the broadest thoroughfare,

The anxious Brownies quickly passed,

And reached the building huge at last.

They paused awhile to view the sight,

To speak about its age and height,

And read the signs, so long and wide,

That met the gaze on every side.

But little time was wasted there,

For soon their feet had found the stair.

And next the room, where oft are told

Their funny actions, free and bold,

Was honored by a friendly call

From all the Brownies, great and small.

Then what a gallery they found,As here and there they moved around—For now they gaze upon a sceneThat showed them sporting on the green;Then, hastening o'er the fields with speedTo help some farmer in his need.Said one, "Upon this desk, no doubt,Where now we cluster round about,Our doings have been plainly toldFrom month to month, through heat and cold.And there's the ink, I apprehend,On which our very lives depend.Be careful, moving to and fro,Lest we upset it as we go.For who can tell what tales untoldThat darksome liquid may unfold!"

Then what a gallery they found,

As here and there they moved around—

For now they gaze upon a scene

That showed them sporting on the green;

Then, hastening o'er the fields with speed

To help some farmer in his need.

Said one, "Upon this desk, no doubt,

Where now we cluster round about,

Our doings have been plainly told

From month to month, through heat and cold.

And there's the ink, I apprehend,

On which our very lives depend.

Be careful, moving to and fro,

Lest we upset it as we go.

For who can tell what tales untold

That darksome liquid may unfold!"

A telephone gave great delightTo those who tried it half the night,Some asking after fresh supplies;Or if their stocks were on the rise;What ship was safe; what bank was firm;Or who desired a second term.

A telephone gave great delight

To those who tried it half the night,

Some asking after fresh supplies;

Or if their stocks were on the rise;

What ship was safe; what bank was firm;

Or who desired a second term.

Thus messages ran to and froWith "Who are you?" "Hallo!" "Hallo!"And all the repetitions knownTo those who use the telephone.

Thus messages ran to and fro

With "Who are you?" "Hallo!" "Hallo!"

And all the repetitions known

To those who use the telephone.

"Oh, here's the pen, as I opine,"Said one, "that's written every line;Indebted to this pen are weFor all our fame and history.""See here," another said, "I've foundThe pointed pencil, long and round,That pictures all our looks so wise,Our smiles so broad and staring eyes;'Tis well it draws us all aright,Or we might bear it off to-night.But glad are we to have our nameIn every region known to fame,To know that children lisp our praise,And on our faces love to gaze."Old pistols that brave service knewAt Bunker Hill, were brought to viewIn mimic duels on the floor,And snapped at paces three or four;While from the foils the Brownies plied,The sparks in showers scattered wide,As thrust and parry, cut and guard,In swift succession followed hard.The British and Mongolian slashWere tried in turn with brilliant dash,Till foils, and skill, and temper too,Were amply tested through and through.

"Oh, here's the pen, as I opine,"

Said one, "that's written every line;

Indebted to this pen are we

For all our fame and history."

"See here," another said, "I've found

The pointed pencil, long and round,

That pictures all our looks so wise,

Our smiles so broad and staring eyes;

'Tis well it draws us all aright,

Or we might bear it off to-night.

But glad are we to have our name

In every region known to fame,

To know that children lisp our praise,

And on our faces love to gaze."

Old pistols that brave service knew

At Bunker Hill, were brought to view

In mimic duels on the floor,

And snapped at paces three or four;

While from the foils the Brownies plied,

The sparks in showers scattered wide,

As thrust and parry, cut and guard,

In swift succession followed hard.

The British and Mongolian slash

Were tried in turn with brilliant dash,

Till foils, and skill, and temper too,

Were amply tested through and through.

They found old shields that bore the dintOf spears and arrow-heads of flint,And held them up in proper pose;Then rained upon them Spartan blows.Lay figures, draped in ancient styles,From some drew graceful bows and smiles,Until the laugh of comrades nighLed them to look with sharper eye.A portrait now they criticize,Which every one could recognize:The features, garments, and the style,Soon brought to every face a smile.Some tried a hand at painting there,And showed their skill was something rare;While others talked and rummaged throughThe desk to find the stories new,

They found old shields that bore the dint

Of spears and arrow-heads of flint,

And held them up in proper pose;

Then rained upon them Spartan blows.

Lay figures, draped in ancient styles,

From some drew graceful bows and smiles,

Until the laugh of comrades nigh

Led them to look with sharper eye.

A portrait now they criticize,

Which every one could recognize:

The features, garments, and the style,

Soon brought to every face a smile.

Some tried a hand at painting there,

And showed their skill was something rare;

While others talked and rummaged through

The desk to find the stories new,

That told about some late affair,Of which the world was not aware.But pleasure seemed to have the powerTo hasten every passing hour,And bring too soon the morning chime,However well they note the time.Now, from a chapel's brazen bell,The startling hint of morning fell,And Brownies realized the needOf leaving for their haunts with speed.So down the staircase to the streetThey made their way with nimble feet,And ere the sun could show his face,The band had reached a hiding-place.

That told about some late affair,

Of which the world was not aware.

But pleasure seemed to have the power

To hasten every passing hour,

And bring too soon the morning chime,

However well they note the time.

Now, from a chapel's brazen bell,

The startling hint of morning fell,

And Brownies realized the need

Of leaving for their haunts with speed.

So down the staircase to the street

They made their way with nimble feet,

And ere the sun could show his face,

The band had reached a hiding-place.

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