THE BROWNIES' CANDY-PULL.

NOsooner had the Brownies runInto the hall than 'twas begun.Some round the harp, with cunning stroke,The music in the strings awoke.The violins to others fell,Who scraped, and sawed, and fingered well,Until the sweet and stirring airWould rouse the feet of dullest there.Like people in the spring of life,Of joys and countless blessings rife,Who yield themselves to Pleasure's hand—So danced that night the Brownie Band.First one would take his place to showThe special step for heel or toe,Just how to edge about with care,And help around the partner fair,Nor plant his feet upon a dress—To cause confusion and distress.Then more would play the master's part,And give some lessons in the art:Would show the rest some figures newFrom Turkey, China, or Peru.Now smoothly glide, as if on wings,Then bob around, as if on springs,Until the sprightly steps would callLoud acclamations from them all.They danced in twos with skip and bound,They danced in circles, round and round;They danced in lines that coiled aboutAs runs the serpent in and out,Some moving slow, some standing still—More cutting capers with a will.At length, by joining hand in hand,The set included all the band.A happier crowd was never seenOn ball-room floor or village green.By turns they danced, by turns would goAnd try their skill at string and bow—They almost sawed the fiddle through,So fast the bow across it flew.And louder still the harp would ring,As nimbler fingers plucked the string.Alike they seemed a skillful bandUpon the floor or music-stand.The night wore on, from hour to hour,And still they danced with vim and power;For supple-kneed and light of toeThe Brownies are, as well you know,And such a thing as tiring outGives them but small concern, no doubt.As long as darkness hung her pallIn heavy folds around the hall,The Brownies stayed to dance and play,Until the very break of day.

Osooner had the Brownies run

Into the hall than 'twas begun.

Some round the harp, with cunning stroke,

The music in the strings awoke.

The violins to others fell,

Who scraped, and sawed, and fingered well,

Until the sweet and stirring air

Would rouse the feet of dullest there.

Like people in the spring of life,

Of joys and countless blessings rife,

Who yield themselves to Pleasure's hand—

So danced that night the Brownie Band.

First one would take his place to show

The special step for heel or toe,

Just how to edge about with care,

And help around the partner fair,

Nor plant his feet upon a dress—

To cause confusion and distress.

Then more would play the master's part,

And give some lessons in the art:

Would show the rest some figures newFrom Turkey, China, or Peru.Now smoothly glide, as if on wings,Then bob around, as if on springs,Until the sprightly steps would callLoud acclamations from them all.They danced in twos with skip and bound,They danced in circles, round and round;They danced in lines that coiled aboutAs runs the serpent in and out,Some moving slow, some standing still—More cutting capers with a will.At length, by joining hand in hand,The set included all the band.A happier crowd was never seenOn ball-room floor or village green.By turns they danced, by turns would goAnd try their skill at string and bow—They almost sawed the fiddle through,So fast the bow across it flew.And louder still the harp would ring,As nimbler fingers plucked the string.Alike they seemed a skillful bandUpon the floor or music-stand.The night wore on, from hour to hour,And still they danced with vim and power;For supple-kneed and light of toeThe Brownies are, as well you know,And such a thing as tiring outGives them but small concern, no doubt.As long as darkness hung her pallIn heavy folds around the hall,The Brownies stayed to dance and play,Until the very break of day.

Would show the rest some figures new

From Turkey, China, or Peru.

Now smoothly glide, as if on wings,

Then bob around, as if on springs,

Until the sprightly steps would call

Loud acclamations from them all.

They danced in twos with skip and bound,

They danced in circles, round and round;

They danced in lines that coiled about

As runs the serpent in and out,

Some moving slow, some standing still—

More cutting capers with a will.

At length, by joining hand in hand,

The set included all the band.

A happier crowd was never seen

On ball-room floor or village green.

By turns they danced, by turns would go

And try their skill at string and bow—

They almost sawed the fiddle through,

So fast the bow across it flew.

And louder still the harp would ring,

As nimbler fingers plucked the string.

Alike they seemed a skillful band

Upon the floor or music-stand.

The night wore on, from hour to hour,

And still they danced with vim and power;

For supple-kneed and light of toe

The Brownies are, as well you know,

And such a thing as tiring out

Gives them but small concern, no doubt.

As long as darkness hung her pall

In heavy folds around the hall,

The Brownies stayed to dance and play,

Until the very break of day.

TOdance the figures o'er and o'er,They lingered on the polished floor;No sooner was one party doneThan others the position won.They chose their partners for the set,And bowed, and scraped, and smiling, met.As night advanced, and morning grayNigh and still nigher cast its ray,The lively Brownies faster flew,Across and back, around and through;Now down the center, up the side,Then back to place with graceful glide—Until it seemed that even dayWould hardly drive the band away.At length some, more upon their guardAgainst surprises, labored hardTo urge their comrades from the placeBefore the sun would show his face.They pulled and hauled with all their mightAt those half crazy with delight,Who still would struggle for a chanceTo have, at least, another dance—Some figure that was quite forgot,Although "the finest of the lot."Another wished to linger still—In spite of warning words—untilEach member present on the floorHad been his partner twice or more.Meantime, outside, the tell-tale dyesOf morn began to paint the skies,And, one by one, the stars of nightGrew pale before the morning's light.Alone, bright Venus, in the west,Upheld her torch and warned the rest;While from the hedge the piping noteOf waking birds began to float;And crows upon the wooded hillsCommenced to stir and whet their bills,When Brownies scampered from the place,And undertook the homeward race.Nor made a halt in street or square,Or verdant park, however fair;But farther from the sight of manAnd light of day, they quickly ran.They traveled at their highest speed,And swiftly must they go, indeed;For, like the spokes of some great wheel,The rays of light began to stealStill higher up the eastern sky,And showed the sun was rolling nigh.

Odance the figures o'er and o'er,

They lingered on the polished floor;

No sooner was one party done

Than others the position won.

They chose their partners for the set,

And bowed, and scraped, and smiling, met.

As night advanced, and morning grayNigh and still nigher cast its ray,The lively Brownies faster flew,Across and back, around and through;Now down the center, up the side,Then back to place with graceful glide—Until it seemed that even dayWould hardly drive the band away.

As night advanced, and morning gray

Nigh and still nigher cast its ray,

The lively Brownies faster flew,

Across and back, around and through;

Now down the center, up the side,

Then back to place with graceful glide—

Until it seemed that even day

Would hardly drive the band away.

At length some, more upon their guardAgainst surprises, labored hardTo urge their comrades from the placeBefore the sun would show his face.They pulled and hauled with all their mightAt those half crazy with delight,Who still would struggle for a chanceTo have, at least, another dance—Some figure that was quite forgot,Although "the finest of the lot."Another wished to linger still—In spite of warning words—untilEach member present on the floorHad been his partner twice or more.

At length some, more upon their guard

Against surprises, labored hard

To urge their comrades from the place

Before the sun would show his face.

They pulled and hauled with all their might

At those half crazy with delight,

Who still would struggle for a chance

To have, at least, another dance—

Some figure that was quite forgot,

Although "the finest of the lot."

Another wished to linger still—

In spite of warning words—until

Each member present on the floor

Had been his partner twice or more.

Meantime, outside, the tell-tale dyesOf morn began to paint the skies,And, one by one, the stars of nightGrew pale before the morning's light.Alone, bright Venus, in the west,Upheld her torch and warned the rest;While from the hedge the piping noteOf waking birds began to float;And crows upon the wooded hillsCommenced to stir and whet their bills,When Brownies scampered from the place,And undertook the homeward race.Nor made a halt in street or square,Or verdant park, however fair;But farther from the sight of manAnd light of day, they quickly ran.They traveled at their highest speed,And swiftly must they go, indeed;For, like the spokes of some great wheel,The rays of light began to stealStill higher up the eastern sky,And showed the sun was rolling nigh.

Meantime, outside, the tell-tale dyes

Of morn began to paint the skies,

And, one by one, the stars of night

Grew pale before the morning's light.

Alone, bright Venus, in the west,

Upheld her torch and warned the rest;

While from the hedge the piping note

Of waking birds began to float;

And crows upon the wooded hills

Commenced to stir and whet their bills,

When Brownies scampered from the place,

And undertook the homeward race.

Nor made a halt in street or square,

Or verdant park, however fair;

But farther from the sight of man

And light of day, they quickly ran.

They traveled at their highest speed,

And swiftly must they go, indeed;

For, like the spokes of some great wheel,

The rays of light began to steal

Still higher up the eastern sky,

And showed the sun was rolling nigh.

ONE evening, while the Brownies satEnjoying free and friendly chat,Some on the trees, some on the ground,And others perched on fences round—One Brownie, rising in his place,Addressed the band with beaming face.The listeners gathered with delightAround the member, bold and bright,To hear him tell of scenes he'd spiedWhile roaming through the country wide."Last eve," said he, "to shun the blast,Behind a cottage fence I passed.While there, I heard a merry rout,And as the yard was dark without,I crawled along through weeds and grass,Through melon-vines and broken glass,Until I might, unnoticed, winA glimpse of all the sport within.At length, below the window-pane,To reach the sill I stretched in vain;But, thanks to my inquiring mindAnd sundry bricks, I chanced to findThe facts I can relate in fullAbout that lively candy-pull."An hour or more, I well believe,I stood, their actions to perceive,With elbows resting on the sill,And nose against the window still.I watched them closely at their fun,And learned how everything was done.The younger members took the lead,And carried on the work with speed.With nimble feet they ran aboutFrom place to place, with laugh and shout;But older heads looked on the while,And cheered the youngsters with a smile,And gave advice in manner kindTo guide the inexperienced mind.They placed the sugar in a pot,And stirred it round till boiling hot;Then rolled and worked it in their hands,And stretched it out in shining bands,Until it reached across the floor,From mantel-piece to kitchen door."These eyes of mine for many a nightHave not beheld a finer sight.To pull the candy was the partOf some who seemed to know the art.The moon had slipped behind the hill,And hoarse had grown the whip-poor-will;But still, with nose against the pane,I kept my place through wind and rain.There, perched upon the shaky pile,With bated breath I gazed the while.I watched them with the sharpest sightThat I might tell the tale aright;For all the active youngsters thereAppeared to have of work their share.Some put fresh sugar in the pot,Some kept the fire blazing hot,And worked away as best they couldTo keep the stove well filled with wood.Indeed, ourselves, with all our skill,At moving here and there at will,Would have to 'lively' be and 'tearAround' to beat those children there!Some cut it up, more passed it round,While others ate it by the pound!"At this, a murmur of surpriseOn every side began to rise;Then smiles o'er every visage flitted,As wide as cheeks and ears permitted,That told what train of thought had spedAt once through every Brownie's head—A thought of pleasure near at handThat well would suit the cunning band.

NE evening, while the Brownies sat

Enjoying free and friendly chat,

Some on the trees, some on the ground,

And others perched on fences round—

One Brownie, rising in his place,

Addressed the band with beaming face.

The listeners gathered with delight

Around the member, bold and bright,

To hear him tell of scenes he'd spied

While roaming through the country wide.

"Last eve," said he, "to shun the blast,

Behind a cottage fence I passed.

While there, I heard a merry rout,

And as the yard was dark without,

I crawled along through weeds and grass,

Through melon-vines and broken glass,

Until I might, unnoticed, win

A glimpse of all the sport within.

At length, below the window-pane,

To reach the sill I stretched in vain;

But, thanks to my inquiring mind

And sundry bricks, I chanced to find

The facts I can relate in full

About that lively candy-pull.

"An hour or more, I well believe,I stood, their actions to perceive,With elbows resting on the sill,And nose against the window still.I watched them closely at their fun,And learned how everything was done.The younger members took the lead,And carried on the work with speed.With nimble feet they ran aboutFrom place to place, with laugh and shout;But older heads looked on the while,And cheered the youngsters with a smile,And gave advice in manner kindTo guide the inexperienced mind.They placed the sugar in a pot,And stirred it round till boiling hot;Then rolled and worked it in their hands,And stretched it out in shining bands,Until it reached across the floor,From mantel-piece to kitchen door.

"An hour or more, I well believe,

I stood, their actions to perceive,

With elbows resting on the sill,

And nose against the window still.

I watched them closely at their fun,

And learned how everything was done.

The younger members took the lead,

And carried on the work with speed.

With nimble feet they ran about

From place to place, with laugh and shout;

But older heads looked on the while,

And cheered the youngsters with a smile,

And gave advice in manner kind

To guide the inexperienced mind.

They placed the sugar in a pot,

And stirred it round till boiling hot;

Then rolled and worked it in their hands,

And stretched it out in shining bands,

Until it reached across the floor,

From mantel-piece to kitchen door.

"These eyes of mine for many a nightHave not beheld a finer sight.To pull the candy was the partOf some who seemed to know the art.The moon had slipped behind the hill,And hoarse had grown the whip-poor-will;But still, with nose against the pane,I kept my place through wind and rain.There, perched upon the shaky pile,With bated breath I gazed the while.I watched them with the sharpest sightThat I might tell the tale aright;For all the active youngsters thereAppeared to have of work their share.Some put fresh sugar in the pot,Some kept the fire blazing hot,And worked away as best they couldTo keep the stove well filled with wood.Indeed, ourselves, with all our skill,At moving here and there at will,Would have to 'lively' be and 'tearAround' to beat those children there!Some cut it up, more passed it round,While others ate it by the pound!"At this, a murmur of surpriseOn every side began to rise;Then smiles o'er every visage flitted,As wide as cheeks and ears permitted,That told what train of thought had spedAt once through every Brownie's head—A thought of pleasure near at handThat well would suit the cunning band.

"These eyes of mine for many a night

Have not beheld a finer sight.

To pull the candy was the part

Of some who seemed to know the art.

The moon had slipped behind the hill,

And hoarse had grown the whip-poor-will;

But still, with nose against the pane,

I kept my place through wind and rain.

There, perched upon the shaky pile,

With bated breath I gazed the while.

I watched them with the sharpest sight

That I might tell the tale aright;

For all the active youngsters there

Appeared to have of work their share.

Some put fresh sugar in the pot,

Some kept the fire blazing hot,

And worked away as best they could

To keep the stove well filled with wood.

Indeed, ourselves, with all our skill,

At moving here and there at will,

Would have to 'lively' be and 'tear

Around' to beat those children there!

Some cut it up, more passed it round,

While others ate it by the pound!"

At this, a murmur of surprise

On every side began to rise;

Then smiles o'er every visage flitted,

As wide as cheeks and ears permitted,

That told what train of thought had sped

At once through every Brownie's head—

A thought of pleasure near at hand

That well would suit the cunning band.

THE Brownies act without delayWhen new ideas cross their way,And soon one raised a finger smallAnd close attention gained from all.They crowded near with anxious glanceTo learn what scheme he could advance—What methods mention or employTo bring about the promised joy.Said he: "A vacant house is near.The owner leaves it every yearFor several months, and pleasure seeksOn ocean waves or mountain peaks.The range is there against the wall,The pots, the pans, the spoons, and all,While cans of syrup may be foundIn every grocer's store around.The Brownie must be dull and tame,And scarce deserves to bear the name,Who will not join with heart and handTo carry out a scheme so grand."Another cried: "When to his bedThe sun to-morrow stoops his head,Again we'll muster in full forceAnd to that building turn our course."Next eve they gained the street at lastThat through the silent city passed;And soon they paused, their eyes they raisedAnd on the vacant mansion gazed.In vain the miser hides his store,In vain the merchant bars his door,In vain the locksmith changes keys—The Brownies enter where they please.Through iron doors, through gates of brass,And walls of stone they safely pass,And smile to think how soon they canUpset the studied schemes of man.Within that house, without delay,Behind the guide they worked their way,More happy far and full of gleeThan was the owner, out at sea.The whale, the shark, or fish that fliesHad less attraction for his eyesThan had the shining candy-ballsFor Brownies, swarming through his halls.Soon coal was from the cellar broughtAnd kindling wood came, quick as thought;Then pots and pans came rattling inAnd syrup sweet, in cans of tin.Just where the syrup had been foundIt matters not. It was around.The cunning band was soon possessedOf full supplies and of the best;Next tablespoons of silver fineIn every hand appeared to shine,And ladles long, of costly ware,That had been laid away with care.No sooner was the syrup hotThan some around the kettle got,And dabbed away in eager hasteTo be the first to get a taste.Then some were scalded when the spoonLet fall its contents all too soon,And gave the tongue too warm a messTo carry without some distress.Then steps were into service broughtThat dancing-masters never taught,And smothered cries and swinging handWould wake the wonder of the band.And when the candy boiled untilIt could be pulled and hauled at will,Take every shape or twist, and seemAs free as fancy in a dream,The busy, happy-hearted crewEnjoyed the moments as they flew.The Brownies in the building stayedAnd candy ate as fast as made.But when at length the brightening skyGave warning they must homeward fly,They quickly sought the open airAnd had but little time to spare.The shortest way, as often found,Was o'er the roughest piece of ground,Where rocks as large as houses layAll scattered round in wild array.Some covered o'er with clinging vines,Some bearing up gigantic pines,Or spreading oaks, that rooted fast,For centuries had stood the blast.But over all the rugged groundThe Brownies passed with lightsome bound,Now jumping clear from block to block,Now sliding down the shelving rock,Or cheering on the lagging kindWho here and there would fall behind.

HE Brownies act without delay

When new ideas cross their way,

And soon one raised a finger small

And close attention gained from all.

They crowded near with anxious glance

To learn what scheme he could advance—

What methods mention or employ

To bring about the promised joy.

Said he: "A vacant house is near.

The owner leaves it every year

For several months, and pleasure seeks

On ocean waves or mountain peaks.

The range is there against the wall,

The pots, the pans, the spoons, and all,

While cans of syrup may be found

In every grocer's store around.

The Brownie must be dull and tame,

And scarce deserves to bear the name,

Who will not join with heart and hand

To carry out a scheme so grand."

Another cried: "When to his bedThe sun to-morrow stoops his head,Again we'll muster in full forceAnd to that building turn our course."

Another cried: "When to his bed

The sun to-morrow stoops his head,

Again we'll muster in full force

And to that building turn our course."

Next eve they gained the street at lastThat through the silent city passed;And soon they paused, their eyes they raisedAnd on the vacant mansion gazed.In vain the miser hides his store,In vain the merchant bars his door,In vain the locksmith changes keys—The Brownies enter where they please.Through iron doors, through gates of brass,And walls of stone they safely pass,And smile to think how soon they canUpset the studied schemes of man.Within that house, without delay,Behind the guide they worked their way,More happy far and full of gleeThan was the owner, out at sea.The whale, the shark, or fish that fliesHad less attraction for his eyesThan had the shining candy-ballsFor Brownies, swarming through his halls.Soon coal was from the cellar broughtAnd kindling wood came, quick as thought;Then pots and pans came rattling inAnd syrup sweet, in cans of tin.Just where the syrup had been foundIt matters not. It was around.The cunning band was soon possessedOf full supplies and of the best;Next tablespoons of silver fineIn every hand appeared to shine,And ladles long, of costly ware,That had been laid away with care.No sooner was the syrup hotThan some around the kettle got,And dabbed away in eager hasteTo be the first to get a taste.Then some were scalded when the spoonLet fall its contents all too soon,And gave the tongue too warm a messTo carry without some distress.Then steps were into service broughtThat dancing-masters never taught,And smothered cries and swinging handWould wake the wonder of the band.And when the candy boiled untilIt could be pulled and hauled at will,Take every shape or twist, and seemAs free as fancy in a dream,The busy, happy-hearted crewEnjoyed the moments as they flew.The Brownies in the building stayedAnd candy ate as fast as made.But when at length the brightening skyGave warning they must homeward fly,They quickly sought the open airAnd had but little time to spare.The shortest way, as often found,Was o'er the roughest piece of ground,Where rocks as large as houses layAll scattered round in wild array.Some covered o'er with clinging vines,Some bearing up gigantic pines,Or spreading oaks, that rooted fast,For centuries had stood the blast.But over all the rugged groundThe Brownies passed with lightsome bound,Now jumping clear from block to block,Now sliding down the shelving rock,Or cheering on the lagging kindWho here and there would fall behind.

Next eve they gained the street at last

That through the silent city passed;

And soon they paused, their eyes they raised

And on the vacant mansion gazed.

In vain the miser hides his store,

In vain the merchant bars his door,

In vain the locksmith changes keys—

The Brownies enter where they please.

Through iron doors, through gates of brass,

And walls of stone they safely pass,

And smile to think how soon they can

Upset the studied schemes of man.

Within that house, without delay,

Behind the guide they worked their way,

More happy far and full of glee

Than was the owner, out at sea.

The whale, the shark, or fish that flies

Had less attraction for his eyes

Than had the shining candy-balls

For Brownies, swarming through his halls.

Soon coal was from the cellar brought

And kindling wood came, quick as thought;

Then pots and pans came rattling in

And syrup sweet, in cans of tin.

Just where the syrup had been found

It matters not. It was around.

The cunning band was soon possessed

Of full supplies and of the best;

Next tablespoons of silver fine

In every hand appeared to shine,

And ladles long, of costly ware,

That had been laid away with care.

No sooner was the syrup hot

Than some around the kettle got,

And dabbed away in eager haste

To be the first to get a taste.

Then some were scalded when the spoon

Let fall its contents all too soon,

And gave the tongue too warm a mess

To carry without some distress.

Then steps were into service brought

That dancing-masters never taught,

And smothered cries and swinging hand

Would wake the wonder of the band.

And when the candy boiled until

It could be pulled and hauled at will,

Take every shape or twist, and seem

As free as fancy in a dream,

The busy, happy-hearted crew

Enjoyed the moments as they flew.

The Brownies in the building stayed

And candy ate as fast as made.

But when at length the brightening sky

Gave warning they must homeward fly,

They quickly sought the open air

And had but little time to spare.

The shortest way, as often found,

Was o'er the roughest piece of ground,

Where rocks as large as houses lay

All scattered round in wild array.

Some covered o'er with clinging vines,

Some bearing up gigantic pines,

Or spreading oaks, that rooted fast,

For centuries had stood the blast.

But over all the rugged ground

The Brownies passed with lightsome bound,

Now jumping clear from block to block,

Now sliding down the shelving rock,

Or cheering on the lagging kind

Who here and there would fall behind.

ONENIGHTthe Brownies found their wayTo where some tracks and switches lay,And buildings stood, such as are foundIn every town on railroad ground.They moved about from place to place,With prying eyes and cautious paceThey peeped in shops and gained a view,Where cars were standing bright and new;While others, that had service known,And in some crash were overthrown,On jack-screws, blocks, and such affairs,Were undergoing full repairs.The table that turns end for endIts heavy load, without a bend,Was next inspected through and throughAnd tested by the wondering crew.They scanned the signal-lights with careThat told the state of switches there,—Showed whether tracks kept straight ahead,Or simply to some siding led.Then round a locomotive strongThey gathered in an earnest throng,Commenting on the style it showed,Its strength and speed upon the road.Said one: "That 'pilot' placed beforeWill toss a cow a block or more;You'd hardly find a bone intactWhen such a thing her frame has racked—Above the fence, and, if you please,Above the smoke-stack and the treesWill go the horns and heels in air,When hoisted by that same affair.""Sometimes it saves," another cried,"And throws an object far asideThat would to powder have been ground,If rushing wheels a chance had found.I saw a goat tossed from the trackAnd landed on a farmer's stack,And though surprised at fate so strange,He seemed delighted at the change;And lived content, on best of fare,Until the farmer found him there."Another said: "We'll have some funAnd down the road this engine run.The steam is up, as gauges show;She's puffing, ready now to go;The fireman and the engineerAre at their supper, in the rearOf yonder shed. I took a peep,And found the watchman fast asleep.So now's our time, if we but haste,The joys of railway life to taste.I know the engine-driver's art,Just how to stop, reverse, and start;I've watched them when they little knewFrom every move I knowledge drew;We'll not be seen till under way,And then, my friends, here let me say,The man or beast will something lackWho strives to stop us on the track."Then some upon the engine stepped,And some upon the pilot crept,And more upon the tender foundA place to sit and look around.And soon away the engine rolledAt speed 'twas fearful to behold;It seemed they ran, where tracks were straight,At least at mile-a-minute rate;And even where the curves were shortThe engine turned them with a snortThat made the Brownies' hearts the whileRise in their throats, for half a mile.But travelers many dangers runOn safest roads beneath the sun.They ran through yards, where dogs came outTo choke with dust that whirled about,And so could neither growl nor barkTill they had vanished in the dark;Some pigs that wandered late at night,And neither turned to left nor right,But on the crossing held debateWho first should squeeze beneath the gate,Were helped above the fence to riseEre they had time to squeal surprise,And never after cared to strayAlong the track by night or day.But when a town was just in sight,And speed was at its greatest height,—Alas! that such a thing should be,—An open switch the Brownies see.Then some thought best at once to goInto the weeds and ditch below;But many on the engine stayedAnd held their grip, though much dismayed.And waited for the shock to fallThat would decide the fate of all.In vain reversing tricks were tried,And brakes to every wheel applied;The locomotive forward flew,In spite of all that skill could do.But just as they approached the placeWhere trouble met them face to face,Through some arrangement, as it seemed,Of which the Brownies never dreamed,The automatic switch was closed,A safety signal-light exposed,And they were free to roll ahead,And wait for those who'd leaped in dread;Although the end seemed near at handOf every Brownie in the band,And darkest heads through horrid frightWere in a moment changed to white,The injuries indeed were small.A few had suffered from their fall,And some were sprained about the toes,While more were scraped upon the nose;But all were able to succeedIn climbing to a place with speed,And there they stayed until once moreThey passed the heavy round-house door.Then jumping down on every sideThe Brownies scampered off to hide;And as they crossed the trestle highThe sun was creeping up the sky,And urged them onward in their raceTo find some safe abiding place.

NIGHTthe Brownies found their way

To where some tracks and switches lay,

And buildings stood, such as are found

In every town on railroad ground.

They moved about from place to place,

With prying eyes and cautious pace

They peeped in shops and gained a view,

Where cars were standing bright and new;

While others, that had service known,

And in some crash were overthrown,

On jack-screws, blocks, and such affairs,

Were undergoing full repairs.

The table that turns end for end

Its heavy load, without a bend,

Was next inspected through and through

And tested by the wondering crew.

They scanned the signal-lights with care

That told the state of switches there,—

Showed whether tracks kept straight ahead,

Or simply to some siding led.

Then round a locomotive strong

They gathered in an earnest throng,

Commenting on the style it showed,

Its strength and speed upon the road.

Said one: "That 'pilot' placed before

Will toss a cow a block or more;

You'd hardly find a bone intact

When such a thing her frame has racked—

Above the fence, and, if you please,

Above the smoke-stack and the trees

Will go the horns and heels in air,

When hoisted by that same affair."

"Sometimes it saves," another cried,

"And throws an object far aside

That would to powder have been ground,

If rushing wheels a chance had found.

I saw a goat tossed from the track

And landed on a farmer's stack,

And though surprised at fate so strange,

He seemed delighted at the change;

And lived content, on best of fare,

Until the farmer found him there."

Another said: "We'll have some fun

And down the road this engine run.

The steam is up, as gauges show;

She's puffing, ready now to go;

The fireman and the engineer

Are at their supper, in the rear

Of yonder shed. I took a peep,

And found the watchman fast asleep.

So now's our time, if we but haste,

The joys of railway life to taste.

I know the engine-driver's art,

Just how to stop, reverse, and start;

I've watched them when they little knew

From every move I knowledge drew;

We'll not be seen till under way,

And then, my friends, here let me say,

The man or beast will something lack

Who strives to stop us on the track."

Then some upon the engine stepped,

And some upon the pilot crept,

And more upon the tender found

A place to sit and look around.

And soon away the engine rolled

At speed 'twas fearful to behold;

It seemed they ran, where tracks were straight,

At least at mile-a-minute rate;

And even where the curves were short

The engine turned them with a snort

That made the Brownies' hearts the while

Rise in their throats, for half a mile.

But travelers many dangers run

On safest roads beneath the sun.

They ran through yards, where dogs came out

To choke with dust that whirled about,

And so could neither growl nor bark

Till they had vanished in the dark;

Some pigs that wandered late at night,

And neither turned to left nor right,

But on the crossing held debate

Who first should squeeze beneath the gate,

Were helped above the fence to rise

Ere they had time to squeal surprise,

And never after cared to stray

Along the track by night or day.

But when a town was just in sight,And speed was at its greatest height,—Alas! that such a thing should be,—An open switch the Brownies see.Then some thought best at once to goInto the weeds and ditch below;But many on the engine stayedAnd held their grip, though much dismayed.And waited for the shock to fallThat would decide the fate of all.In vain reversing tricks were tried,And brakes to every wheel applied;The locomotive forward flew,In spite of all that skill could do.But just as they approached the placeWhere trouble met them face to face,Through some arrangement, as it seemed,Of which the Brownies never dreamed,The automatic switch was closed,A safety signal-light exposed,And they were free to roll ahead,And wait for those who'd leaped in dread;Although the end seemed near at handOf every Brownie in the band,And darkest heads through horrid frightWere in a moment changed to white,The injuries indeed were small.A few had suffered from their fall,And some were sprained about the toes,While more were scraped upon the nose;But all were able to succeedIn climbing to a place with speed,And there they stayed until once moreThey passed the heavy round-house door.Then jumping down on every sideThe Brownies scampered off to hide;And as they crossed the trestle highThe sun was creeping up the sky,And urged them onward in their raceTo find some safe abiding place.

But when a town was just in sight,

And speed was at its greatest height,—

Alas! that such a thing should be,—

An open switch the Brownies see.

Then some thought best at once to go

Into the weeds and ditch below;

But many on the engine stayed

And held their grip, though much dismayed.

And waited for the shock to fall

That would decide the fate of all.

In vain reversing tricks were tried,

And brakes to every wheel applied;

The locomotive forward flew,

In spite of all that skill could do.

But just as they approached the place

Where trouble met them face to face,

Through some arrangement, as it seemed,

Of which the Brownies never dreamed,

The automatic switch was closed,

A safety signal-light exposed,

And they were free to roll ahead,

And wait for those who'd leaped in dread;

Although the end seemed near at hand

Of every Brownie in the band,

And darkest heads through horrid fright

Were in a moment changed to white,

The injuries indeed were small.

A few had suffered from their fall,

And some were sprained about the toes,

While more were scraped upon the nose;

But all were able to succeed

In climbing to a place with speed,

And there they stayed until once more

They passed the heavy round-house door.

Then jumping down on every side

The Brownies scampered off to hide;

And as they crossed the trestle high

The sun was creeping up the sky,

And urged them onward in their race

To find some safe abiding place.

ITwas the season of the yearWhen people, dressed in fancy gear,From every quarter hurried downAnd filled the largest halls in town;And there to flute and fiddle sweetWent through their sets with lively feet.The Brownies were not slow to noteThat fun indeed was now afloat;And ere the season passed away,Of longest night and shortest day,They looked about to find a hallWhere they could hold their fancy ball.Said one: "A room can soon be foundWhere all the band can troop around;But want of costumes, much I fear,Will bar our pleasure all the year."Another said: "One moment wait!My eyes have not been shut of late,—Don't show a weak and hopeless mindBecause your knowledge is confined,—For I'm prepared to take the bandTo costumes, ready to the hand,Of every pattern, new or old:The kingly robes, with chains of gold,The cloak and plume of belted knight,The pilgrim's hat and stockings white,The dresses for the ladies fair,The gems and artificial hair,The soldier-suits in blue and red,The turban for the Tartar's head,All can be found where I will lead,If friends are willing to proceed."

Twas the season of the year

When people, dressed in fancy gear,

From every quarter hurried down

And filled the largest halls in town;

And there to flute and fiddle sweet

Went through their sets with lively feet.

The Brownies were not slow to note

That fun indeed was now afloat;

And ere the season passed away,

Of longest night and shortest day,

They looked about to find a hall

Where they could hold their fancy ball.

Said one: "A room can soon be found

Where all the band can troop around;

But want of costumes, much I fear,

Will bar our pleasure all the year."

Another said: "One moment wait!

My eyes have not been shut of late,—

Don't show a weak and hopeless mind

Because your knowledge is confined,—

For I'm prepared to take the band

To costumes, ready to the hand,

Of every pattern, new or old:

The kingly robes, with chains of gold,

The cloak and plume of belted knight,

The pilgrim's hat and stockings white,

The dresses for the ladies fair,

The gems and artificial hair,

The soldier-suits in blue and red,

The turban for the Tartar's head,

All can be found where I will lead,

If friends are willing to proceed."

Those knowing best the Brownie wayWill know there was no long delay,Ere to the town he made a breakWith all the Brownies in his wake.It mattered not that roads were long,That hills were high or winds were strong;Soon robes were found on peg and shelf,And each one chose to suit himself.The costumes, though a world too wide,And long enough a pair to hide,Were gathered in with skill and care,That showed the tailor's art was there.Then out they started for the hall,In fancy trappings one and all;Some clad like monks in sable gowns;And some like kings; and more like clowns;And Highlanders, with naked knees;And Turks, with turbans like a cheese;While many members in the lineWere dressed like ladies fair and fine,And swept along the polished floorA train that reached a yard or more.By happy chance some laid their handUpon the outfit of a band;The horns and trumpets took the lead,Supported well by string and reed;And violins, that would have madeA mansion for the rogues that played,With flute and clarionet combinedIn music of the gayest kind.In dances wild and strange to seeThey passed the hours in greatest glee;Familiar figures all were lostIn flowing robes that round them tossed;And well-known faces hid behindQueer masks that quite confused the mind.The queen and clown, a loving pair,Enjoyed a light fandango there;While solemn monks of gentle heart,In jig and scalp-dance took their part.The grand salute, with courteous words,The bobbing up and down, like birds,The lively skip, the stately glide,The double turn, and twist asideWere introduced in proper placeAnd carried through with ease and grace.So great the pleasure proved to all,Too long they tarried in the hall,And morning caught them on the fly,Ere they could put the garments by!Then dodging out in great dismay,By walls and stumps they made their way;And not until the evening's shadeWere costumes in their places laid.

Those knowing best the Brownie way

Will know there was no long delay,

Ere to the town he made a break

With all the Brownies in his wake.

It mattered not that roads were long,

That hills were high or winds were strong;

Soon robes were found on peg and shelf,

And each one chose to suit himself.

The costumes, though a world too wide,

And long enough a pair to hide,

Were gathered in with skill and care,

That showed the tailor's art was there.

Then out they started for the hall,

In fancy trappings one and all;

Some clad like monks in sable gowns;

And some like kings; and more like clowns;

And Highlanders, with naked knees;

And Turks, with turbans like a cheese;

While many members in the line

Were dressed like ladies fair and fine,

And swept along the polished floor

A train that reached a yard or more.

By happy chance some laid their handUpon the outfit of a band;The horns and trumpets took the lead,Supported well by string and reed;And violins, that would have madeA mansion for the rogues that played,With flute and clarionet combinedIn music of the gayest kind.In dances wild and strange to seeThey passed the hours in greatest glee;Familiar figures all were lostIn flowing robes that round them tossed;And well-known faces hid behindQueer masks that quite confused the mind.The queen and clown, a loving pair,Enjoyed a light fandango there;While solemn monks of gentle heart,In jig and scalp-dance took their part.The grand salute, with courteous words,The bobbing up and down, like birds,The lively skip, the stately glide,The double turn, and twist asideWere introduced in proper placeAnd carried through with ease and grace.So great the pleasure proved to all,Too long they tarried in the hall,And morning caught them on the fly,Ere they could put the garments by!Then dodging out in great dismay,By walls and stumps they made their way;And not until the evening's shadeWere costumes in their places laid.

By happy chance some laid their hand

Upon the outfit of a band;

The horns and trumpets took the lead,

Supported well by string and reed;

And violins, that would have made

A mansion for the rogues that played,

With flute and clarionet combined

In music of the gayest kind.

In dances wild and strange to see

They passed the hours in greatest glee;

Familiar figures all were lost

In flowing robes that round them tossed;

And well-known faces hid behind

Queer masks that quite confused the mind.

The queen and clown, a loving pair,

Enjoyed a light fandango there;

While solemn monks of gentle heart,

In jig and scalp-dance took their part.

The grand salute, with courteous words,

The bobbing up and down, like birds,

The lively skip, the stately glide,

The double turn, and twist aside

Were introduced in proper place

And carried through with ease and grace.

So great the pleasure proved to all,

Too long they tarried in the hall,

And morning caught them on the fly,

Ere they could put the garments by!

Then dodging out in great dismay,

By walls and stumps they made their way;

And not until the evening's shade

Were costumes in their places laid.

WHILEBrownies strayed along a pierTo view the shipping lying near,A tugboat drew their gaze at last;'Twas at a neighboring wharf made fast.Cried one: "See what in black and redBelow the pilot-house is spread!In honor of the Brownie Band,It bears our name in letters grand.Through all the day she's on the go;Now with a laden scow in tow,And next with barges two or three,Then taking out a ship to sea,Or through the Narrows steaming roundIn search of vessels homeward bound;She's stanch and true from stack to keel,And we should highly honored feel."Another said: "An hour ago,The men went up to see a show,And left the tugboat lying here.The steam is up, our course is clear,We'll crowd on board without delayAnd run her up and down the bay.We have indeed a special claim,Because she bears the 'Brownie' name.Before the dawn creeps through the eastWe'll know about her speed at least,And prove how such a craft behavesWhen cutting through the roughest waves.Behind the wheel I'll take my standAnd steer her round with skillful hand,Now down the river, now aroundThe bay, or up the broader sound;Throughout the trip I'll keep her clearOf all that might awaken fear.When hard-a-port the helm I bring,Or starboard make a sudden swing,The Band can rest as free from dreadAs if they slept on mossy bed.I something know about the seas,I've boxed a compass, if you please,And so can steer her east or west,Or north or south, as suits me best.Without the aid of twinkling starsOr light-house lamps, I'll cross the bars.I know when north winds nip the nose,Or sou'-sou'-west the 'pig-wind' blows,As hardy sailors call the galeThat from that quarter strikes the sail."A third replied: "No doubt you're smartAnd understand the pilot's art,But more than one a hand should take,For all our lives will be at stake.In spite of eyes and ears and hands,And all the skill a crew commands,How oft collisions crush the keelAnd give the fish a sumptuous meal!Too many rocks around the bayStick up their heads to bar the way.Too many vessels, long and wide,At anchor in the channel rideFor us to show ourselves unwiseAnd trust to but one pair of eyes."Ere long the tugboat swinging clearTurned bow to stream and left the pier,While many Brownies, young and old,From upper deck to lower holdWere crowding round in happy veinStill striving better views to gain.Some watched the waves around them roll;Some stayed below to shovel coal,From hand to hand, with pitches strong,They passed the rattling loads along.Some at the engine took a place,More to the pilot-house would raceTo keep a sharp lookout ahead,Or man the wheel as fancy led.But accidents we oft record,However well we watch and ward,And vessels often go to wreckWith careful captains on the deck;They had mishaps that night, for still,In spite of all their care and skill,While running straight or turning roundIn river, bay, or broader sound,At times they ran upon a rock,And startled by the sudden shockSome timid Brownies, turning pale,Would spring at once across the rail;And then, repenting, find all hopeOf life depended on a rope,That willing hands were quick to throwAnd hoist them from the waves below.Sometimes too near a ship they ranFor peace of mind; again, their planWould come to naught through lengthy towOf barges passing to and fro.The painted buoys around the bayAt times occasioned some dismay—They took them for torpedoes dreadThat might the boat in fragments spread,Awake the city's slumbering crowds,And hoist the band among the clouds.But thus, till hints of dawn appearedNow here, now there, the boat was steeredWith many joys and many fears,That some will bear in mind for years;But at her pier once more she layWhen night gave place to creeping day.

WHILEBrownies strayed along a pier

To view the shipping lying near,

A tugboat drew their gaze at last;

'Twas at a neighboring wharf made fast.

Cried one: "See what in black and red

Below the pilot-house is spread!

In honor of the Brownie Band,

It bears our name in letters grand.

Through all the day she's on the go;

Now with a laden scow in tow,

And next with barges two or three,

Then taking out a ship to sea,

Or through the Narrows steaming round

In search of vessels homeward bound;

She's stanch and true from stack to keel,

And we should highly honored feel."

Another said: "An hour ago,

The men went up to see a show,

And left the tugboat lying here.

The steam is up, our course is clear,

We'll crowd on board without delay

And run her up and down the bay.

We have indeed a special claim,

Because she bears the 'Brownie' name.

Before the dawn creeps through the east

We'll know about her speed at least,

And prove how such a craft behaves

When cutting through the roughest waves.

Behind the wheel I'll take my stand

And steer her round with skillful hand,

Now down the river, now around

The bay, or up the broader sound;

Throughout the trip I'll keep her clear

Of all that might awaken fear.

When hard-a-port the helm I bring,

Or starboard make a sudden swing,

The Band can rest as free from dread

As if they slept on mossy bed.

I something know about the seas,

I've boxed a compass, if you please,

And so can steer her east or west,

Or north or south, as suits me best.

Without the aid of twinkling stars

Or light-house lamps, I'll cross the bars.

I know when north winds nip the nose,

Or sou'-sou'-west the 'pig-wind' blows,

As hardy sailors call the gale

That from that quarter strikes the sail."

A third replied: "No doubt you're smartAnd understand the pilot's art,But more than one a hand should take,For all our lives will be at stake.In spite of eyes and ears and hands,And all the skill a crew commands,How oft collisions crush the keelAnd give the fish a sumptuous meal!Too many rocks around the bayStick up their heads to bar the way.Too many vessels, long and wide,At anchor in the channel rideFor us to show ourselves unwiseAnd trust to but one pair of eyes."

A third replied: "No doubt you're smart

And understand the pilot's art,

But more than one a hand should take,

For all our lives will be at stake.

In spite of eyes and ears and hands,

And all the skill a crew commands,

How oft collisions crush the keel

And give the fish a sumptuous meal!

Too many rocks around the bay

Stick up their heads to bar the way.

Too many vessels, long and wide,

At anchor in the channel ride

For us to show ourselves unwise

And trust to but one pair of eyes."

Ere long the tugboat swinging clearTurned bow to stream and left the pier,While many Brownies, young and old,From upper deck to lower holdWere crowding round in happy veinStill striving better views to gain.Some watched the waves around them roll;Some stayed below to shovel coal,From hand to hand, with pitches strong,They passed the rattling loads along.Some at the engine took a place,More to the pilot-house would raceTo keep a sharp lookout ahead,Or man the wheel as fancy led.But accidents we oft record,However well we watch and ward,And vessels often go to wreckWith careful captains on the deck;They had mishaps that night, for still,In spite of all their care and skill,While running straight or turning roundIn river, bay, or broader sound,At times they ran upon a rock,And startled by the sudden shockSome timid Brownies, turning pale,Would spring at once across the rail;And then, repenting, find all hopeOf life depended on a rope,That willing hands were quick to throwAnd hoist them from the waves below.Sometimes too near a ship they ranFor peace of mind; again, their planWould come to naught through lengthy towOf barges passing to and fro.The painted buoys around the bayAt times occasioned some dismay—They took them for torpedoes dreadThat might the boat in fragments spread,Awake the city's slumbering crowds,And hoist the band among the clouds.But thus, till hints of dawn appearedNow here, now there, the boat was steeredWith many joys and many fears,That some will bear in mind for years;But at her pier once more she layWhen night gave place to creeping day.

Ere long the tugboat swinging clear

Turned bow to stream and left the pier,

While many Brownies, young and old,

From upper deck to lower hold

Were crowding round in happy vein

Still striving better views to gain.

Some watched the waves around them roll;

Some stayed below to shovel coal,

From hand to hand, with pitches strong,

They passed the rattling loads along.

Some at the engine took a place,

More to the pilot-house would race

To keep a sharp lookout ahead,

Or man the wheel as fancy led.

But accidents we oft record,

However well we watch and ward,

And vessels often go to wreck

With careful captains on the deck;

They had mishaps that night, for still,

In spite of all their care and skill,

While running straight or turning round

In river, bay, or broader sound,

At times they ran upon a rock,

And startled by the sudden shock

Some timid Brownies, turning pale,

Would spring at once across the rail;

And then, repenting, find all hope

Of life depended on a rope,

That willing hands were quick to throw

And hoist them from the waves below.

Sometimes too near a ship they ran

For peace of mind; again, their plan

Would come to naught through lengthy tow

Of barges passing to and fro.

The painted buoys around the bay

At times occasioned some dismay—

They took them for torpedoes dread

That might the boat in fragments spread,

Awake the city's slumbering crowds,

And hoist the band among the clouds.

But thus, till hints of dawn appeared

Now here, now there, the boat was steered

With many joys and many fears,

That some will bear in mind for years;

But at her pier once more she lay

When night gave place to creeping day.

ASshades of evening closed around,The Brownies, from some wooded ground,Looked out to view with staring eyeA Tally-Ho, then passing by.Around the park they saw it roll,Now sweeping round a wooded knoll,Now rumbling o'er an arching bridge,Now hid behind a rocky ridge,Now wheeling out again in viewTo whirl along some avenue.They hardly could restrain a shoutWhen they observed the grand turnout.The long, brass horn, that trilled so loud,The prancing horses, and the crowdOf people perched so high in airPleased every wondering Brownie there.Said one: "A rig like this we seeWould suit the Brownies to a T!And I'm the one, here let me say,To put such pleasures in our way:I know the very place to goTo-night to find a Tally-Ho.It never yet has borne a loadOf happy hearts along the road;But, bright and new in every part'Tis ready for an early start.The horses in the stable standWith harness ready for the hand;If all agree, we'll take a rideFor miles across the country wide."Another said: "The plan is fine;You well deserve to head the line;But, on the road, the reins I'll draw;I know the way to 'gee' and 'haw,'And how to turn a corner round,And still keep wheels upon the ground."Another answered: "No, my friend,We'll not on one alone depend;But three or four the reins will hold,That horses may be well controlled.The curves are short, the hills are steep,The horses fast, and ditches deep,And at some places half the bandMay have to take the lines in hand."That night, according to their plan,The Brownies to the stable ran;Through swamps they cut to reach the place,And cleared the fences in their raceAs lightly as the swallow fliesTo catch its morning meal supplies.Though, in the race, some clothes were soiled,And stylish shoes completely spoiled,Across the roughest hill or rockThey scampered like a frightened flock,Now o'er inclosures knee and knee,With equal speed they clambered freeAnd soon with faces all aglowThey crowded round the Tally-Ho;But little time they stood to stareOr smile upon the strange affair.As many hands make labor light,And active fingers win the fight,Each busy Brownie played his part,And soon 't was ready for the start.But ere they took their seats to rideBy more than one the horns were tried,Each striving with tremendous strainThe most enlivening sound to gain,And prove he had a special rightTo blow the horn throughout the night.Though some were crowded in a seat,And some were forced to keep their feetOr sit upon another's lap,And some were hanging to a strap,With merry laugh and ringing shout,And tooting horns, they drove about.A dozen miles, perhaps, or more,The lively band had traveled o'er,Commenting on their happy lotAnd keeping horses on the trot,When, as they passed a stunted oakA wheel was caught, the axle broke!Then some went out with sudden pitch,And some were tumbled in the ditch,And one jumped off to save his neck,While others still hung to the wreck.Confusion reigned, for coats were rent,And hats were crushed, and horns were bent,And what began with fun and clatterHad turned to quite a serious matter.Some blamed the drivers, others thoughtThe tooting horns the trouble brought.More said, that they small wisdom showed,Who left the root so near the road.But while they talked about their plightUpon them burst the morning lightWith all the grandeur and the sheenThat June could lavish on the scene.So hitching horses where they could,The Brownies scampered for the wood.And lucky were the Brownies spry:A dark and deep ravine was nighThat seemed to swallow them aliveSo quick were they to jump and dive,To safely hide from blazing dayThat fast had driven night away,And forced them to leave all repairsTo other heads and hands than theirs.

Sshades of evening closed around,

The Brownies, from some wooded ground,

Looked out to view with staring eye

A Tally-Ho, then passing by.

Around the park they saw it roll,

Now sweeping round a wooded knoll,

Now rumbling o'er an arching bridge,

Now hid behind a rocky ridge,

Now wheeling out again in view

To whirl along some avenue.

They hardly could restrain a shout

When they observed the grand turnout.

The long, brass horn, that trilled so loud,

The prancing horses, and the crowd

Of people perched so high in air

Pleased every wondering Brownie there.

Said one: "A rig like this we see

Would suit the Brownies to a T!

And I'm the one, here let me say,

To put such pleasures in our way:

I know the very place to go

To-night to find a Tally-Ho.

It never yet has borne a load

Of happy hearts along the road;

But, bright and new in every part

'Tis ready for an early start.

The horses in the stable stand

With harness ready for the hand;

If all agree, we'll take a ride

For miles across the country wide."

Another said: "The plan is fine;

You well deserve to head the line;

But, on the road, the reins I'll draw;

I know the way to 'gee' and 'haw,'

And how to turn a corner round,

And still keep wheels upon the ground."

Another answered: "No, my friend,

We'll not on one alone depend;

But three or four the reins will hold,

That horses may be well controlled.

The curves are short, the hills are steep,

The horses fast, and ditches deep,

And at some places half the band

May have to take the lines in hand."

That night, according to their plan,

The Brownies to the stable ran;

Through swamps they cut to reach the place,

And cleared the fences in their race

As lightly as the swallow flies

To catch its morning meal supplies.

Though, in the race, some clothes were soiled,

And stylish shoes completely spoiled,

Across the roughest hill or rock

They scampered like a frightened flock,

Now o'er inclosures knee and knee,

With equal speed they clambered free

And soon with faces all aglow

They crowded round the Tally-Ho;

But little time they stood to stare

Or smile upon the strange affair.

As many hands make labor light,

And active fingers win the fight,

Each busy Brownie played his part,

And soon 't was ready for the start.

But ere they took their seats to rideBy more than one the horns were tried,Each striving with tremendous strainThe most enlivening sound to gain,And prove he had a special rightTo blow the horn throughout the night.

But ere they took their seats to ride

By more than one the horns were tried,

Each striving with tremendous strain

The most enlivening sound to gain,

And prove he had a special right

To blow the horn throughout the night.

Though some were crowded in a seat,And some were forced to keep their feetOr sit upon another's lap,And some were hanging to a strap,With merry laugh and ringing shout,And tooting horns, they drove about.

Though some were crowded in a seat,

And some were forced to keep their feet

Or sit upon another's lap,

And some were hanging to a strap,

With merry laugh and ringing shout,

And tooting horns, they drove about.

A dozen miles, perhaps, or more,The lively band had traveled o'er,Commenting on their happy lotAnd keeping horses on the trot,When, as they passed a stunted oakA wheel was caught, the axle broke!

A dozen miles, perhaps, or more,

The lively band had traveled o'er,

Commenting on their happy lot

And keeping horses on the trot,

When, as they passed a stunted oak

A wheel was caught, the axle broke!

Then some went out with sudden pitch,And some were tumbled in the ditch,And one jumped off to save his neck,While others still hung to the wreck.

Then some went out with sudden pitch,

And some were tumbled in the ditch,

And one jumped off to save his neck,

While others still hung to the wreck.

Confusion reigned, for coats were rent,And hats were crushed, and horns were bent,And what began with fun and clatterHad turned to quite a serious matter.

Confusion reigned, for coats were rent,

And hats were crushed, and horns were bent,

And what began with fun and clatter

Had turned to quite a serious matter.

Some blamed the drivers, others thoughtThe tooting horns the trouble brought.More said, that they small wisdom showed,Who left the root so near the road.But while they talked about their plightUpon them burst the morning lightWith all the grandeur and the sheenThat June could lavish on the scene.So hitching horses where they could,The Brownies scampered for the wood.And lucky were the Brownies spry:A dark and deep ravine was nighThat seemed to swallow them aliveSo quick were they to jump and dive,To safely hide from blazing dayThat fast had driven night away,And forced them to leave all repairsTo other heads and hands than theirs.

Some blamed the drivers, others thought

The tooting horns the trouble brought.

More said, that they small wisdom showed,

Who left the root so near the road.

But while they talked about their plight

Upon them burst the morning light

With all the grandeur and the sheen

That June could lavish on the scene.

So hitching horses where they could,

The Brownies scampered for the wood.

And lucky were the Brownies spry:

A dark and deep ravine was nigh

That seemed to swallow them alive

So quick were they to jump and dive,

To safely hide from blazing day

That fast had driven night away,

And forced them to leave all repairs

To other heads and hands than theirs.

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