One time, while Brownies passed aroundAn honest farmer's piece of ground,They paused to view the garden fairAnd fields of grain that needed care."My friends," said one who often spokeAbout the ways of human folk,Explaining farming
"Now here's a case in point, I claim,Where neighbors scarce deserve the name:This farmer on his back is laidWith broken ribs and shoulder-blade,Received, I hear, some weeks ago;While at the village here below,He checked a runningteam, to saveSome children from anearly grave.Now overripe his harveststandsIn waiting for the reaper'shands;The piece of wheat welately passedIs shelling out at everyblast.
"Now here's a case in point, I claim,Where neighbors scarce deserve the name:This farmer on his back is laidWith broken ribs and shoulder-blade,Received, I hear, some weeks ago;While at the village here below,
He checked a runningteam, to saveSome children from anearly grave.Now overripe his harveststandsIn waiting for the reaper'shands;The piece of wheat welately passedIs shelling out at everyblast.
Poking a vegetableThose pumpkins in that corner plotBegin to show the signs of rot;The mold has fastened on their skin,The ripest ones are caving in,And soon the pig in yonder styWith scornful grunt would pass them by.His Early Rose potatoes thereRaking
Are much in need of light and air;The turnip withers where it lies,The beet and carrot want to rise.'Oh, pull us up!' they seem to cryTo every one that passes by;'The frost will finish our repose,The grubs are working at our toes;
Unless you comeWe'll not be worthThe corn is breakingThe hens around theAnd with their everMay pick the ker-His neighbors areExplaining furtherand save us soon,a picayune!'from the stalk,hill can walk,ready billnels at their will.a sordid crowd,
Who've such a shameful waste allowedSo wrapped in self some men can be,Beyond their purse they seldom see;'T is left for us to play the friendAnd here a helping hand extend.But as the wakeful chanticleerIs crowing in the stable near,Too little of the present nightIs left to set the matter right."To-morrow eve, at that dark hourWhen birds grow still in leafy bowerAnd bats forsake the ruined pileTo exercise their wings awhile,In yonder shady grove we'll meet,With all our active force complete,Prepared to give this farmer aidWith basket, barrel, hook, and spade.
Prepared with basket, barrel, hook and spade
But, ere we part, one caution more:Let some invade a druggist's store,And bring along a coated pill;
But, ere we part, one caution more:Let some invade a druggist's store,And bring along a coated pill;
We'll dose the dog to keep him still.For barking dogs, however kind,Can oft disturb a Brownie's mind."—When next the bat of evening flew,And drowsy things of day withdrew,When beetles droned across the lea,And turkeys sought the safest treeTo form aloft a social rowAnd criticise the fox below,—Then cunning Brownies might be seenAdvancing from the forest green;Now jumping fences, as they ran,Now crawling through (a safer plan);Now keeping to the roads awhile,Now "cutting corners," country style;Some bearing hoes, and baskets more,Some pushing barrows on before,While others, swinging sickles bright,Seemed eager for the grain in sight.But in advance of all the throngThree daring Brownies moved along,Whose duty was to venture closeAnd give the barking dog his dose.
Now soon the work was under way,Each chose the part he was to play:While some who handled hoes the bestBrought "Early Roses" from their nest,To turnip-tops some laid their hands,More plied the hook, or twisted bands.And soon the sheaves lay piled around,Like heroes on disputed ground.Now let the eye turn where it might,A pleasing prospect was in sight;For garden ground or larger fieldAlike a busy crowd revealed:Some pulling carrots from their bed,Some bearing burdens on their head,Or working at a fever heatWhile prying out a monster beet.Now here two heavy loads have met,And there a barrow has upset,
While workers every effort strainThe rolling pumpkins to regain;
water pump
And long before the stars withdrew,The crop was safe, the work was through.In shocks the corn, secure and good,Now like a Sioux encampment stood;The wheat was safely stowed away;In bins the "Early Roses" lay,
wheelbarrow tipping
While carrots, turnips, beets, and allReceived attention, great and small.When morning dawned, no sight or soundOf friendly Brownies could be found;And when at last old Towser brokeThe spell, and from his slumber woke,He rushed around, believing stillSome mischief lay behind the pill.But though the field looked bare and strange,His mind could hardly grasp the change.And when the farmer learned at mornThat safe from harm were wheat and corn,That all his barley, oats, and ryeWere in the barn, secure and dry,That carrots, beets, and turnips roundWere safely taken from the ground,The honest farmer thought, of course,
His neighbors had turned out in forceWhile helpless on the bed he lay,And kindly stowed his crop away.Brownie
BrownieBut when he thanked them for their aid,And hoped they yet might be repaidFor acting such a friendly part,His words appeared to pierce each heart.For well they knew that other handsThan theirs had laid his grain in bands,That other backs had bent in toilTo save the products of the soil.And then they felt as such folk willWho fail to nobly act, untilMore earnest helpers, stepping in,Do all the praise and honor win.
Brownie
The Brownies once, while roaming 'round,By chance approached a college ground;And, as they skirmished every side,A large gymnasium they espied.Their eyes grew bright as they surveyedThe means for exercise displayed.
The club, the weight, the hanging ring,The horizontal bar, and swing,
The boxing-glovesOf him who lovesAll brought expres-As one by one theyThe time was short,That named theBoxingthat please the heartthe manly art,sions of delight,came in sight.and words were fewwork for each to do.
Their mystic art, as may be foundOn pages now in volumes bound,Was quite enough to bear them inThrough walls of wood and roofs of tin.
No hasp can hold, no bolt can standBefore the Brownie's tiny hand;The sash will rise, the panel yield,And leave him master of the field.—When safe they stood withinthe hall,A pleasant time waspromised all.
No hasp can hold, no bolt can standBefore the Brownie's tiny hand;The sash will rise, the panel yield,And leave him master of the field.—When safe they stood withinthe hall,A pleasant time waspromised all.
Said one: "The clubs let me obtainThat Indians use upon the plain,And here I'll stand to test my power,And swing them 'round my head an hour;Though not the largest in the band,I claim to own no infant hand;And muscle in this arm you'll meetThat well might grace a trained athlete.rolling up sleeves
Brownie and mountain goatTwo goats once blocked a mountain passContending o'er a tuft of grass.Important messages of stateForbade me there to stand and wait;Without a pause, the pair I nearedAnd seized the larger by the beard;I dragged him from his panting foeAnd hurled him to the plain below."
"For clubs," a second answered there,"Or heavy weights I little care;Let those by generous nature plannedAt heavy lifting try their hand;But give me bar or give me ring,Where I can turn, contort, and swing,And I'll outdo, with movements fine,The monkey on his tropic vine."On the high bar
On the trapeze
Thus skill and strength and wind they triedBy means they found on every side.
Some claimed at once the high trapeze,And there performed with grace and ease;They turned and tumbled left and right,As though they held existence light.At times a finger-tip was allBetween them and a fearful fall.On strength of toes they now depend,Or now on coat-tails of a friend—And had that cloth been less than bestThat looms could furnish, east or west,Some members of the Brownie raceMight now be missing from their placeUpside down on trapeze
But fear, we know, scarce ever findsA home within their active minds.And little danger they could seeIn what would trouble you or me.Some stood to prove their muscle strong,And swung the clubs both large and longThat men who met to practice thereHad often found no light affair.A rope they found as 'round they ran,And then a "tug-of-war" began;First over benches, stools, and chairs,Then up and down the winding stairs,They pulled and hauled and tugged around,Now giving up, now gaining ground,Some lost their footing at the go,And on their backs slid to and froWithout a chance their state to mendUntil the contest found an end.Their coats from tail to collar rentShowed some through trying treatment went,And more, with usage much the same,All twisted out of shape, and lame,Had scarce a button to their name.
But fear, we know, scarce ever findsA home within their active minds.And little danger they could seeIn what would trouble you or me.Some stood to prove their muscle strong,And swung the clubs both large and longThat men who met to practice thereHad often found no light affair.A rope they found as 'round they ran,
In a torn coat
The judge selected for the caseRan here and there about the placeWith warning cries and gesture wideAnd seemed unable to decide.And there they might be tugging still,With equal strength and equal will—But while they struggled, stars withdrewAnd hints of morning broader grew,Till arrows from the rising sunSoon made them drop the rope and run.
The judge selected for the caseRan here and there about the placeWith warning cries and gesture wideAnd seemed unable to decide.
The rope spelling Brownnie
Brownies' Feast
I
In best of spirits, blithe and free,—As Brownies always seem to be,—A jovial band, with hop and leap,Were passing through a forest deep,When in an open space they spiedA heavy caldron, large and wide,
Where woodmen, working at their trade,A rustic boiling-place had made."My friends," said one, "a chance like thisNo cunning Brownie band should miss,All unobserved, we may prepareAnd boil a pudding nicely there;Telling a tale
Blowing on the fireSome dying embers smolder stillWhich we may soon revive at will;And by the roots of yonder treeA brook goes babbling to the sea.At Parker's mill, some miles below,They're grinding flour as white as snowAn easy task for us to bearEnough to serve our need from there:
I noticed, as I passed to-night,A window with a broken light,And through the opening we'll pourThough bolts and bars be on the door.""And I," another Brownie cried,"Will find the plums and currants dried;I'll have some here in half an hourTo sprinkle thickly through the flour;So stir yourselves, and bear in mindThat some must spice and sugar find."
"I know," cried one, "where hens have madeTheir nest beneath the burdock shade—I saw them stealing out with careTo lay their eggs in secret there.The farmer's wife, through sun and rain,Has sought to find that nest in vain:They cackle by the wall of stones,The hollow stump and pile of bones,
By the fencepostAnd by the ditch that lies below,Where yellow weeds and nettles grow;And draw her after everywhereUntil she quits them in despair.The task be mine to thither leadA band of comrades now with speed,To help me bear a tender loadAlong the rough and rugged road."Away, away, on every side,At once the lively Brownies glide;Some after plums, more 'round the hill—The shortest way to reach the mill—While some on wings and some on legsGo darting off to find the eggs.
A few remained upon the spotTo build a fire beneath the pot;Some gathered bark from trunks of trees,While others, on their hands and knees,Around the embers puffed and blewUntil the sparks to blazes grew;And scarcely was the kindling burnedBefore the absent ones returned.All loaded down they came, in groups,In couples, singly, and in troops.
In troops
Upon their shoulders, heads, and backsThey bore along the floury sacks;With plums and currants others came,Each bag and basket filled the same;
carrying a sackWhile those who gave the hens a callHad taken nest-egg, nest, and all;And more, a pressing want to meet,
From some one's line had hauled a sheet,The monstrous pudding to infoldWhile in the boiling pot it rolled.The rogues were flour from head to feetBefore the mixture was complete.Like snow-birds in a drift of snowThey worked and elbowed in the dough,Till every particle they broughtWas in the mass before them wrought.And soon the sheet around the pile
Was wrapped in most artistic style.Then every plan and scheme was triedTo hoist it o'er the caldron's side.At times, it seemed about to fall,Yet none forsook their post through fear,But harder worked with danger near.They pulled and hauled and orders gave,And pushed and pried with stick and stave,
Was wrapped in most artistic style.Then every plan and scheme was triedTo hoist it o'er the caldron's side.At times, it seemed about to fall,Yet none forsook their post through fear,But harder worked with danger near.They pulled and hauled and orders gave,And pushed and pried with stick and stave,
Pulling the sack up
Until, in spite of height and heat,They had performed the trying feat.
To take the pudding from the potThey might have found as hard and hot.But water on the fire they threw,And then to work again they flew.And soon the steaming treasure satUpon a stone both broad and flat,Which answered for a table grand,When nothing better was at hand.Spilling out
Some think that Brownies never eat,But live on odors soft and sweet.That through the verdant woods proceedOr steal across the dewy mead;But those who could have gained a sightOf them, around their pudding white,Would have perceived that elves of airCan relish more substantial fare.around a cookie
Sitting to eatThey clustered close, and delved and ateWithout a knife, a spoon, or plate;Some picking out the plums with care,And leaving all the pastry there.While some let plums and currants go,But paid attention to the dough.The purpose of each Brownie's mindWas not to leave a crumb behind,That, when the morning sun should shineThrough leafy tree and clinging vine,
No traces of their sumptuous feast
It might reveal toAnd well they gaugedWhen they theirFor when the richThe rogues could—The miller neverFor Brownies wield aHolding tummyman or beast;what all could bear,pudding did prepare;repast was done,neither fly nor run.missed his flour,mystic power;
Whate'er they take they can restoreIn greater plenty than before.
THE BROWNIESTOBOGGANINGOne evening, when the snow lay whiteOn level plain and mountain height,The Browniesmustered, oneand all,In answer to a specialcall.
One evening, when the snow lay whiteOn level plain and mountain height,
The Browniesmustered, oneand all,In answer to a specialcall.
All clustered in a ring they stoodWithin the shelter of the wood,While earnest faces brighter grewAt thought of enterprises new.Said one, "It seems that all the rage,With human kind of every age,Is on toboggans swift to slideDown steepest hill or mountain side.Our plans at once we must prepare,Pointing at the store
High wallAnd try, ourselves, that pleasure rare.We might enough toboggans findIn town, perhaps, of every kind,If some one chanced to know where theyAwaiting sale are stowed away."Another spoke: "Within us liesThe power to make our own supplies;We'll not depend on other handsTo satisfy these new demands;The merchants' wares we'll let aloneAnd make toboggans of our own;A lumber-yard some miles from hereHolds seasoned lumber all the year.There pine and cedar may be found,And oak and ash are piled around.Some boards are thick and some are thin,But all will bend like sheets of tin.At once we'll hasten to the spot,And, though a fence surrounds the lot,We'll skirmish 'round and persevere,And gain an entrance,—never fear."
This brought a smile to every face,For Brownies love to climb and race,And undertake such work as willBring into play their wondrous skill.The pointers on the dial plateCould hardly mark a later date,Before they scampered o'er the milesThat brought them to the lumber piles,And then they clambered, crept, and squeezed,And gained admittance where they pleased;For other ways than builders showTo scale a wall the Brownies know.Some sought for birch, and some for pine,And some for cedar, soft and fine.With free selection well contentSoon under heavy loads they bent.It chanced to be a windy night,Which made their labor far from light,But, though a heavy tax was laidOn strength and patience,undismayedThey worked their way byhook or crook,And reached at last asheltered nook;
Then lively work the crowd beganTo make toboggans true to plan.The force was large, the rogues had skill,And hands were willing—better still;So here a twist, and there a bend,Soon brought their labors to an end.
Then lively work the crowd beganTo make toboggans true to plan.
The force was large, the rogues had skill,And hands were willing—better still;So here a twist, and there a bend,Soon brought their labors to an end.
Without the aid of steam or glue,They curved them like a war canoe;No little forethought some displayed,But wisely "double-enders" made,That should they turn, as turn they might,They'd keep the downward course aright;They fashioned some for three or four,And some to carry eight or more,tobaggon 2
While some were made to take a crowdAnd room for half the band allowed.Before the middle watch of night,The Brownies sought the mountain height,And down the steepest grade it showedThe band in wild procession rode;Some lay at length, some found a seat;Some bravely stood on bracing feet.But trouble, as you understand,Oft moves with pleasure, hand in hand,
And even Brownies were not freeFrom evil snag or stubborn treeThat split toboggans like a quill,And scattered riders down the hill.
Brownie
With pitch and toss and plunge they flew,—Some skimmed the drifts, some tunneled through;Then out across the frozen plainAt dizzy speed they shot amain,
Through splintered rails and flying gatesOf half a dozen large estates;Until it seemed that ocean wideAlone could check the fearful ride.Some, growingdizzy with thespeed,At times a friendlyhand would needTo help them keep their proper gripThrough all the dangers of the trip.And thus until the stars had waned,The sport of coasting was maintained.Then, while they sought with lively raceIn deeper woods a hiding-place,"How strange," said one, "we never triedTill now the wild toboggan ride!
CrashedBut since we've proved the pleasure fineThat's found upon the steep incline,We'll often muster on the height,And make the most of every night,Until the rains of spring descendAnd bring such pleasures to an end."Another answered frank and free:"In all such musters count on me;For though my back is badly strained,
Crashed
My elbow-joint and ankle sprained,I'll be the first upon the groundAs long as patch of snow is found,And bravely do my part to steerToboggans on their wild career."So every evening, foul or fair,The jovial Brownies gathered there,Till with the days ofSpring, at last,Came drenching shower and meltingblast,Which sent the mountain's ice andsnowTo fill the rivers miles below.
The balloon deflated
Whilerambling through the forest shade,A sudden halt some Brownies made;For spread about on bush and groundAn old balloon at rest they found,That while upon some flying tripHad given aeronauts the slip.And, falling here in foliage green,Through all the summer lay unseen.The Brownies gathered fast to stareUpon the monster lying there,
PlanningAnd when they learned the use and planOf valves and ropes, the rogues beganTo lay their schemes and name a nightWhen all could take an airy flight."We want," said one, "no tame affair,Like some that rise with heated air,And hardly clear the chimney-topBefore they lose their life and drop.
Planning
The bag with gas must be supplied,That will insure a lengthy ride;
When we set sail 't is not to flyAbove a spire and call it high.The boat, or basket, must be strong,Designed to take the crowd along;For that which leaves a part behindWould hardly suit the Brownie mind.The works that serve the town of BrayWith gas are scarce two miles away.To-morrow night we'll come and bear,Tugging it closed
Tugging it closed
As best we can, this burden there;And when inflated, fit to rise,We'll take a sail around the skies."
In a ringNext evening, as the scheme was planned,The Brownies promptly were on hand;For when some pleasure lies in view,The absentees are always few.But 't was no easy task to haulThe old balloon, car, ropes and all,Across the rocks and fallen treesAnd through the marshes to their knees.
In a ring
But Brownies, persevering still,Will keep their course through every ill,And in the main, as history shows,Succeed in aught they do propose.
Balloon draped over a fence
So, though it cost them rather dear,In scratches there and tumbles here,They worked until the wondrous featOf transportation was complete.Then while some busy fingers playedAround the rents that branches made,An extra coil of rope was tiedIn long festoons around the side,That all the party, young and old,Might find a trusty seat or hold.And while they worked, they chatted freeAbout the wonders they would see.Said one: "As smoothly as a kite,We'll rise above the clouds to-night,And may the question settle soon,About the surface of the moon."Now all was ready for the gas,
And soon the lank and tangled massBegan to flop about and rise,As though impatient for the skies;Then was there work for every handThat could be mustered in the band,To keep the growing monster lowUntil they stood prepared to go;To this and that they made it fast,Round stones and stakes the rope was cast;
And soon the lank and tangled massBegan to flop about and rise,As though impatient for the skies;Then was there work for every handThat could be mustered in the band,To keep the growing monster lowUntil they stood prepared to go;To this and that they made it fast,Round stones and stakes the rope was cast;
Into the air
But strong it grew and stronger still,As every wrinkle seemed to fill;And when at last it bounded clear,And started on its wild career,A rooted stump and garden gate,It carried off as special freight.
Though all the Brownies went, a partWere not in proper shape to start;Arrangements hardly were complete,Some wanted room and more a seat,While some in acrobatic styleMust put their trust in toes awhile.But Brownies are not hard to please,And soon they rested at their ease;Some found support, both safe and strong,Upon the gate that went along,By some the stump was utilized,And furnished seats they highly prized.Now, as they rose they ran afoulOf screaming hawk and hooting owl,And flitting bats that hooked their wingsAt once around the ropes and strings,weathervane
weathervane
As though content to there abideAnd take the chances of the ride.On passing through a heavy cloud,One thus addressed the moistened crowd:"Although the earth, from which we rise,Now many miles below us lies,To sharpest eye, strain as it may,The moon looks just as far away.""The earth is good enough for me!"
Another said, "with grassy lea;And shady groves, of songsters full.—Will some one give the valve a pull?"And soon they all were well content,To start upon a mild descent.But once the gas commenced to go,They lost the power to check the flow;The more they tried control to gain,The more it seemed to rush amain.Then some began towring their hands,And more to volunteercommands;While some werecraning out to viewWhat part of earth theirwreck would strew,A marshy plain, a rockyshore,Or ocean with its sullenroar.