0050m
O yes, it was lovely down there at
Cape May,
And I s'posed I should never be
tired of play;
And Auntie was sweet as an auntie
could be;
But some one was homesick, you
s'pose it was me?
Such elegant ladies and beautiful
girls
All asking for kisses and praising
my curls;
But no precious papa to hug me, and say,
"Has dear little Kitty been good all the day!"
And mamma, dear, when they turned out the light,
And no blessed mamma to kiss me good-night,
Cuddled down in the pillow, with no one to see,
Was a little girl crying you guess it was me?
Roger Daland was sick. He was just sick enough to be cross.
His picture-books fell off the bed. His playthings hid under the bedclothes, and Roger cried. His mother read aloud to him, but he did not like the story. Then she told him a true story about the "Mission for the Sick."
"Kind ladies met in a hall," she said, "and took with them fruit, flowers, and good things for sick men, women, and dear little children."
0051m
Roger was pleased. He thought about the mission some time; then he said, "I wish I could send my rose-bush in the little red pot."
"You can if you wish," said his mother, "and I will write a note for you."
Roger's eyes grew bright. His mother wrote, "Roger Daland sends this rose to some sick child."
Then it was sent away in a nice basket. Three days after, the postman brought Roger a note; it said:—
"Dear Little Boy, I am lame. I can never walk. My mother goes out washing. I am alone all day. I used to cry. I never cry since the rose-bush came. I sit in my chair and watch it. I thank you, and my mother does too. I learned to write before I fell down on the ice. My mother cannot write, but she says she will ask God to bless you. She can work better, for the rose keeps me company. She used to cry too, when I was all alone.
"'The rose will grow forever,' she says. I hope it will not die.
"My mother says 'if it does die in the pretty pot, the goodness will keep on growing.' I shall not let it die.
"Your friend,
"Mary Brennan."
When Roger's mother finished reading the note her little boy looked very happy. After that he sent little Mary some of his toys. He is well now; but he never forgets the Mission for the Sick.
0052m
0053m
0054m
What does it mean chirp,
And away to the south-land the wild-geese steer?
When apples are falling and nuts are brown?
These are the signs that autumn is here.
What does it mean when the days are short?
When the leaves are gone and the brooks are dumb?
When the fields are white with the drifting snows?
These are the signs that winter has come.
The old stars set, and the new ones rise,
And skies that were stormy grow bright and clear;
And so the beautiful, wonderful signs
Go round and round with the changing year.
0055m
Grandma Farn is getting old, and has a disease of the eye. She will be seventy at her next birthday. She cannot see to read or to sew as well as she used to. But she has a number of grandchildren.
She calls them her eyes. She says that they must do her seeing for her; and they do, for they are good boys and girls, and love her very much.
The boys are larger and older, and they read aloud in the evening by the light of the lamp. The girls are younger, and cannot read yet; though Lucy, the eldest of the four girls, is now going to school.
The girls have found out a nice way for seeing for grandma. They take a spool of cotton and a paper of large needles. They thread every needle and leave it hanging on the spool. This saves their grandmother's eyes. All she then has to do is to put away the needle when she has used all the cotton. Then she takes another, and another, till the whole twenty-four are used.
Then the girls thread the twenty-four again. In this way they "see for grandma."
Grandma makes clothing for the poor. She can see enough to sew, but not enough, even with glasses, to thread her needle.
0056m
0057m
Such a little woman,
Busy little fingers,
Gravely shelling beans,
Eyes of sweetest blue;
Kitty looks as she would say,
"Don't you bother, kitty,
"Tell me what it means!"
I have work to do.
"You may sit and watch me
While I'm shelling beans;
I am helping mother,
That is what it means."
0058m
Come, cheerful and gay
As the glad sun in May,
Let us carol away
The bright Christmas Day.
The star of His birth
Shines white o'er the earth.
Then in transports henceforth
Let us shout of His worth.
Our griefs we will fling
To the winds as we sing,
And our voices shall ring
With the name of our King.
5059
As Uncle Will was going home one noon, he saw a crowd in the street near his house. There were about fifty boys, and they were standing about something that seemed to please them. Their shouts of glee could be heard a long way off.
0059m
Uncle Will walked up to find out what was the matter. What did he see but his tame crane, Zip. He was perched on one foot in the midst of the boys, pecking at them right and left. Not a boy could come within six feet of him without feeling the point of his sharp bill.
The boys thought this was great fun. They never had seen so strange a bird. But poor Zip did not enjoy it. When he saw Uncle Will he ran to him, and tucked his head under his arm. He was glad enough to be taken home.
Zip was very fond of music. When the piano was played, he would stalk into the house, if the door stood open. If the door was closed, he would tap on the window till he was let in. Then he would dance up to the piano, and strike upon the keys with his beak. If the tune was a lively one, he seemed to enjoy it all 'the more; he would tap faster and faster; his bill would come down, pounce, between the fingers of the player, but it never hit them.
0060m
It as good as "man's-buff" to But Zip grew lie got up at day-the garden. Some-night, when the clock struck. His voice was loud, but it was not sweet. He was not Jenny Lind; he was only Zip. The neighbors did not enjoy his songs. They said he waked up the babies. So poor Zip was sent to the country. There he was very sad, and sang a great deal. But there was only one baby to hear him, and that baby was deaf.
When Charlie woke up one morning and looked from the window, he saw that the ground was deeply covered with snow. The wind had blown it in great drifts against the fence and the trees.
9061
Charlie's little sister Rosey said it looked like hills and valleys. On the side of the house nearest the kitchen the snow was piled higher than Charlie's head. Mamma said she did not know how black Aunt Patsey could get through it to bring in the breakfast.
"There must be a path cleared through this snow," said papa. "I would do it myself, if I had time. But I must be at my office early this morning." Then he looked at Charlie. "Do you think you could do it, my son?"
"I, papa! Why, it is higher than my head! How could a little boy like me cut a path through that deep snow?"
"How? Why, by doing itlittle by little. Suppose you try; and if I find a nice path cleared when I come home to dinner, you shall have the sled you wished for."
So Charlie got his wooden snow-shovel and set to work. He threw up first one shovelful, and then another; but it was slow work.
"I don't think I can do it' mamma," he said. "A shovelful is so little, and there is such a heap of snow to be cleared away!"
"Little by little, Charlie," said his mamma. "That snow fell in tiny bits, flake by flake, but you see what a great pile it has made."
"Yes, mamma; and if I throw it away shovelful by shovelful, it will all be gone at last. So I will keep on trying."
0062m
Charlie soon had a space cleared from the snow, and as he worked on the path grew longer. By and by it reached quite up to the kitchen door. It looked like a little street between snow-white walls.
When papa came home to dinner, he was pleased to see what his little boy had done. Next day he gave Charlie a fine blue sled, and on it was painted its name, in yellow letters, "Little by Little."
The boys all wanted to know it came to have such a name.
And when they learned about it, I think it was a lesson to them as well as to Charlie.
0063m
Bright, beautiful snow crystals,
Filling the air,
Why do you come dancing,
From homes so fair,
To fall and be trodden on everywhere?
"We hurry, we scurry down,
From regions bright,
To clothe the murky old town,
And bare hills, bleak and brown,
In garments white.
"And when we are trod on and black,
Our sweet task o'er,
We joyously hasten back,
Dance o'er the homeward track,
More glad than before."
Once there was a little boy named Charley, who was not afraid of anything. He would pick up frogs or bugs, or walk up to a dog or goat and pat him just as if he was an old friend. But he was a good boy, and never hurt any creature.
9064
He drove the cows home every evening. Charley loved the cows that gave him such good milk, and he used to talk to them as he drove them along.
One day Charley thought he would cut across a lot that was fenced in. He had only walked a little way when he saw a big bull trotting towards him. Do you think Charley was frightened? Not a bit. He knew it was of no use to run. As quick as he could, he pulled up a handful of grass and held it out to the bull.
The bull was feeling very ugly, for the men who put him in the field had beaten him, and choked him with the rope around his neck. But when he saw Charley standing there so bravely, he knew the little boy did not want to hurt him. He stopped, looked at Charley a moment, and then quietly ate the grass, from his hand.
Charley pulled some more grass and gave him, and then some more, and more, until the bull had enough. Charley walked away, with the bull following him to the fence.
The next evening he pulled some turnips and carried them to the bull. He liked them very much. Every day after that Charley carried something good to his big friend.
But one day Charley's father passed by the field. He was terribly frightened to see his little boy on the bull's back, riding around the lot. He shouted to him, but turned pale when he saw Charley take hold of the horns and let himself down over the bull's head. He expected to see the animal toss the little fellow in the air; but he only rubbed his black nose against Charley and let him run to his papa.
0065m
The next day the bull was taken away, for Charley's papa did not want him to have such a dangerous friend.
I do not believe the bull would ever have hurt the kind little boy; do you?
Hardie had a funny present once. It was a little fox. The man who gave it to him found it when it was a small cub. He tried to tame it as it grew older, but he could not make it very tame.
8066
The man belonged to the army, and soon he had to go away. Then he gave his fox to Hardie, who was glad to have it for a pet. He wanted to keep it in the house. But his mamma said Foxy was not a nice pet to keep in the house. So Hardie made him a kennel out doors. Foxy had a collar on, with a strong chain.
His young master fastened him by this chain; and then he gave him chicken bones, and other good things, to eat.
Foxy seemed quite happy for a time; but one day the dogs found him, and they teased him so that poor Foxy worked out of his collar and ran and hid in the house. Hardie was sorry for his pet, but he knew he must not stay in the house.
So he made the collar and chain fast once more, and put the fox back in his kennel. Then he fenced it up so that the dogs could not get in, and said, "There, poor fellow! You need not be afraid!"
But when Foxy heard the dogs bark he was afraid. He was sure they would get at him, and he worked so hard at his collar that he got it off again. Then he ran away to the woods, Hardie was very sorry to lose his fox; he asked all the boys if they had seen it.
Down the road there lived a blacksmith who had two pet raccoons. They were tame, very tame. They had a place to live in which they had fixed as they liked it. They used to run across the road from their home to a spring, to drink.
0067m
A boy who did not know about the blacksmith's raccoons saw one of them as it ran to get a drink. He chased it and caught it Then he came up to find Hardie.
"Hardie, I 've found your fox!" cried the boy. Hardie ran in haste to look; but when he saw what the boy had brought he said, "O dear! That is no fox at all. It is one of Mr. Gunn's raccoons."
The boy took the raccoon back, and Hardie never found his fox.
0068m
0069m
The boys were in the garden,
Digging little wells;
The girls were at the sea-side,
Hunting pretty shells.
The boys were in the schoolroom,
Sitting all in rows;
The girls were in the ball-room,
Standing on their toes.
The boys were in the wild woods,
Picking sweet red berries;
The girls were 'neath the fruit-trees,
Shaking down the cherries.
Iwanted to be good. I wanted to have lots of fun.
When I got up in the morning I said, "Here's another long day, and no school." I did n't have to hurry up. Mamma let me take as long as I liked to eat my breakfast.
0070m
After breakfast was the worst. We wanted to do the biggest lot of things you ever knew, but we could n't.
We began to play store. That was fun for a little while. Then Susan scolded because we took her new pie-pans for our angleworms. We sold the worms ten for a cent for the boys to fish with.
When we were tired of the store, we had to put things all back in their places.
We wanted a circus. Wo made a good one with our cat Mopsy for a tiger. Six boys gave us five pins each to see it. They found the pins in their mothers' cushions.
0071m
Edgar Lane's mother bought a ticket. We made tickets out of pretty colored paper.
I lost mother's best scissors somehow. It took all the money in my bank to pay for them.
When we were having some jolly fun Susan called out, "You bad, wicked children, you've got your ma's best shawl for a curtain."
We did n't know it was her best shawl. It didn't look nice. Papa said it was camel's hair. We never thought camels had such queer hair.
We didn't play circus any more.
We went in the garden and camped out. We played the trees were high mountains. I was on the Alps. My sister in the grammar school told me about the Alps.
Edgar was in the same tree on another limb.
He called his "The Catskills." He went to those mountains once. We had a splendid time. Pretty soon Grandpa came out and said, "Here, you young rascals, come down, you will shake off all my nice fruit!"
9072
There don't seem to be any place for boys.
I told Susan so, and she said boys were always in the way.
If we could only leave things around it would be better.
It spoils vacation when some one keeps saying, "Don't do that!" or, "O, dear, those boys!"
Edgar says clothes are hateful things. His mother wants him to look pretty. He wants to roll on the grass, but he can't. My mother lets me. I have some overalls and stout shoes, and I roll.
My papa says boys have to climb and roll and keep busy if they want to grow strong.
When we got tired of our mountains we went fishing. I tumbled in and spoiled my straw hat. It was not deep, only the mud.
Vacations would be nice if it wasn't for the big folks. They want you to do as they do.
My papa and mamma don't, but grandma and aunties and my big cousins do. They make you feel prickly all over telling you about proper things.
I tell you it's real hard to feel full of fun and not let it out. It's hard to be a boy in vacation unless you can go off in the country or down by the sea.
5072
0073m
One rainy day papa made two ships for his little girls. They were about a foot long. They had little white sails, and tiny flags floating from the tops of the masts. They were gayly painted.
Sixon put his nose into the paint pail, so he was painted too. But it soon wore off.
Mabel's ship was decorated with blue, so she called it "The Bluebell."
Nelly's was bright with scarlet trimmings. A fine sounding name would be best she thought She named hers "The Pride of the Seas."
When the pleasant weather came again, they had fine times sailing them. As they were always careful they were allowed to go down to the lake. There was a little cove, with a bright sandy beach where they played. They sent the ships across this cove from one side to the other. Back and forth they went, in safety, for a while.
There is sometimes danger for ships, however. This the children soon realized. One day a stray breeze caught the little "Bluebell."
0074m
She did not sail across to the other side as she had done before, but out by the point, and away into the great, wide lake.
The wind was strong; the blue streamers fluttered bravely in the sunshine. She sailed far away, and at last was quite out of sight.
"Let's play she has gone to California," said Kelly, as they stood watching her.
"She will come back some time with a load of gold," added Mabel.
"The Pride of the Seas" stuck fast on a mud bank. John, the hired man, rescued her.
0075m
Do you know our Peter and Polly,
So pretty, so plump, and so jolly!
One with merry blue eyes and lips like a cherry,
And one with dark hair, and cheeks brown as a berry!
Then this is our Peter and Polly!
Do you know our Polly and Peter?
One a little and one a great eater;
One with jews-harp and whistle and hammer
Just making a houseful of clamor;
And one with her dollies and stories
And lapful of blue morning-glories?
Then this is our Polly and Peter!
0076m
Let me show you, babies dear,
How to act when Puss is near.
In this manner run to hide:
Dodge around and jump aside;
Don't be slacking in your pace,
Thinking she'll give up the chase.
You may scamper as you will,
She 'll be close behind you still.
When she tries to use her claws,
Then be lively, never pause;
Though you leave your ears behind,
Squeeze ahead and never mind.
Now, Suppose the cat were here,
Show me how you'd disappear.
Are you ready? One, two, three!
Good enough! she'll hungry be
Ere she catches you or me.
One morning Dora's mother was going away to the next town. She was going to bring grandma for a visit.
0077m
The carriage was waiting before she was quite ready. "Now I shall not have time to finish my work," she said. "I will let you sweep the sitting-room, Dora. You did it very nicely last week, and I know you want to help me."
Dora was pouting because she could not go in the carriage with her mother. She thought it was very cruel that she must stay at home when she wanted to go so much. So she did not answer, but sat by the window pouting till the carriage was gone. Then she said to herself, "I don't feel like sweeping, and don't care how I do it. I think 't is too bad that I can't go to ride!"
So she swept the sitting-room in a very heedless manner. She did not get the dust-pan and take up the litter; she only brushed it together and left it under the hearth-rug.