Chapter I: Love Little Pussy (8)

He changed his place, and then she recited a little piece of a song three or four times over, so that the boy learned it.

"Up with you, youngsters!" called out the schoolmaster. "This is the first day, so you shall be dismissed early; but first we must say a prayer, and sing."

Instantly, all was life in the school; they jumped down from the benches, sprung over the floor, and talked into each other's mouths.

"Silence! you young torments, you little beggars, you noisy boys! be quiet, and walk softly across the floor, little children," said the schoolmaster; and now they walked quietly, and took their places, after which the schoolmaster went in front of them, and made a short prayer. Then they sung. The schoolmaster began in a deep bass, all the children stood with folded hands, and joined in. Oeyvind stood farthest down by the door with Marit, and looked on; they also folded their hands, but they could not sing.

That was the first day at school.

#Happy Days#

WHAT THE CAT AND HEN DID

Four little children were playing in their garden one day. There were Mollie and Jamie and Betty and Teddy.

They were so busy making mud-pies that they did not see "Mrs. Tomkins," the old cat, when she came and mewed, and mewed, and put up her paw, and touched Mollie and Jamie and Betty and Teddy--first one and then the other, as much as to say, "Do come, some of you, and help me! Do come, _please_!"

By and by the children's mama came out of the house and saw how queerly the cat was acting, and said: "Children, Mrs. Tomkins is trying to get you to go with her and see if her babies are all right."

So the children left their play, and said: "Come, Mrs. Tomkins, we will go with you now."

The old cat gave a thankful "m-i-e-o-u," and started down the walk leading to the barn. Every now and then she looked back to see if the children were really coming. When she got to the stable, she ran and jumped up on the manger, and looked down into it, and gave a quick, sharp "m-i-e-o-u," as if to say, "What do you think of that?" And the children looked in and saw a hen sitting upon the old cat's kittens and trying to keep them all covered up! When the cat tried to go near them, the hen would peck at her and drive her away. How the children laughed! Mollie said: "Did you ever see anything so funny! I am going to ask Mama to write a funny story about it,--how our old hen 'dopted the kittens."

The hen had been sitting upon some eggs in a nest near where the cat had set up housekeeping, and when the cat went out, the hen came over and took the cat's little family under her wings, just as if they had been so many chick-a-biddies. And when the cat went home again, the hen wouldn't let her come near the kittens. Mollie took the hen off, and Mrs. Tomkins was happy.

The next day she came again, looking as though she said, "I am very sorry to trouble you, but I _must_." Then she said, "M-i-e-o-u! m-i-e-o-u!" So the children left their play and went to the stable with her, and found the hen playing mother to Mrs. Tomkins's kittens again and trying to make them keep still and stay under her wings. If one of them poked its head out, she would give it a sharp peck to make it go back.

The children laughed again, and Mollie said: "Poor Mrs. Tomkins, I would look for a new house if I were you--you do have such meddlesome neighbors! Then she took the hen off, and Mrs. Tomkins picked up one of the kittens.

The children's mama was sitting in the library reading when the old cat came in, with a kitten in her mouth. She put it softly down, went out, and soon returned with another. She kept on doing this until she had moved all her family of five kittens. Then she settled herself in a cozy corner, and looked at the lady, and purred in this way: "If you only knew how much trouble I have had with that bad old hen, you would let me and my children stay here."

The lady laughed and said: "I will see what I can do for you."

Just then the children came in and begged to have the kittens stay. So a new home was made for them in a box in the woodhouse.

DOT'S BIRTHDAY CAKE

Once there was a little girl called Dot. And she was just five years old. And she had a fine birthday cake. It was big and round, and it had five beautiful little pink candles set in pink rosebuds on top.

Dot sat at the big table at dinner that day, and by and by they put a pretty pink paper cap on her head and then brought in the birthday cake. And the little candles were all burning bright. And when she saw it she said, "Oh! oh! how lovely! It is just too pretty to cut!"

But her mama said, "I will cut it for you, dear." So she cut one piece for Dot, and then she asked Dot, "Will Marie have a piece?" Marie was Dot's big doll. And Dot looked at her and said, "Marie says, 'No, thank you.'" And mama said, "Will Fuzzy have a piece?" Fuzzy was Dot's Teddy Bear. And Dot looked at him and said: "He says, 'No, thank you.'" And mama said, "Will papa have a piece?" And Dot said, "Oh, yes. Won't you, papa?" And papa said, "Yes, please." And Dot said, "Mama, you will. You _must_ have a piece of my birthday cake." And mama said, "Yes, thank you."

And mama cut the cake and gave Dot a piece and papa a piece and herself a piece. But she left the parts of the cake where the candles were burning,--one, two, three, four, five. And Dot's birthday cake lasted one, two, three, four, five whole days before it was all gone.

NED AND ROVER AND JACK

A boy named Ned had a little puppy-dog named Rover. One day, Ned's papa gave him a nice new toy wagon. Ned was pulling it around the yard when he saw Rover. "Come, Rover!" he said, "I will give you a fine ride." So he took Rover and put him in the wagon and gave him a ride.

But just then Ned saw a boy he knew, named Tom. Tom was running down the street. Ned called to him but he did not hear. Ned wanted to show Tom his new wagon. So he ran after Tom as fast as he could go, calling, "Tom! Tom!" and never thinking of poor little Rover. He was barking with all his might, "Bow! wow! Bow-wow! bow-wow-wow-wow!" which means "Oh, stop! stop! I'm going to fall out!" And the next minute Rover went "bumpity-bump!" out into the road, and ran off home, crying, "Ow-wow-wow!" He was not hurt much, but he was badly frightened. But he soon forgot his ride, and he grew and he grew and he grew, till, by and by, he was a big dog. And then, Ned's little brother, Jack, had a little wagon. But now Rover was too big to ride in it. So Jack said he would make Rover pull it and _he_ would ride.

Ned helped him to harness Rover in it like a horse, and Jack climbed in and took the reins. "Get up!" said Jack, and away they went out into the yard and on into a big field. But just then a little rabbit started up in front of them, and the minute Rover saw it, he began to race after the rabbit. Poor Jack couldn't hold him at all. Round and round they went, and they ran, and they ran, and they ran! Jack called out, "Whoa, Rover! Stop, Rover!" But Rover didn't stop. He wanted to catch the rabbit and he forgot about Jack.

At last the rabbit ran toward a hole under the wall, where Rover could not get him. But Rover dashed after him as fast as he could go. "Bumpity-bump" went the little wagon, and just as Rover missed the rabbit, the wheel struck a big stone and poor _Jack_ tumbled out on the ground. But he didn't cry. He was not hurt much, and he wasn't frightened at all. He ran and caught Rover, and said, "Oho! Who cares for a little bump like that? You're a funny horse, Rover. But you didn't catch your rabbit, you old runaway--did you?"

I had a little Kitten,
His name was Pussy Grey--
I lent him to a Lady
While I was far away--
She petted him, she fed him
On things to make him fat--
And now I have him back again
My Kitten is a Cat!

HOW POLLY HAD HER PICTURE TAKEN

BY EVERETT WILSON

It was a bright spring morning, and all the animals on the Meadowbrook Farm had been given their breakfast, and the Piggy-wig family had settled down to a cozy nap. Suddenly there was heard a great noise and rushing out in the apple orchard. Old Mother Piggy-wig jumped up on her hind legs and looked over the fence of her sty to see what it was all about. The little pig that went to market, and the little pig that stayed at home, also jumped up, quite as excited as their mother. Then the little pig that had roast beef, and the little pig that had none, woke up, and they, too, scampered about, wishing to know what was going on down under the apple-trees. But before old Mother Piggy-wig could tell them, the little pig, who, one day, could not find his way home, found a big hole in the lower board of the sty, and at once shouted:

"Oh, I see what it is! It is little Polly going to have her picture taken."

And, sure enough, there was Polly's brother Ned with his camera; and after him came Polly, and after Polly came--guess what!

Well, first there came Blackie, the cat, then came Banty, the hen; and then came Gyp, the dog. And such a mew-mewing, and cluck-clucking, and bow-wowing you never heard!

Polly had often had her picture taken, but it was always with her papa or her mamma, and she had never had her picture taken with her pets. So brother Ned had promised that on her birthday he would take her picture with all of her pets--if they would only keep still. This day was Polly's birthday, and, as the weather was fine, her brother had told her to follow him out to the orchard.

Ned fastened his camera on its three sprawling legs, while Polly tried to gather her pets around her. But by this time Blackie, the cat, was chasing a squirrel (though he did not catch him), and Banty, the hen, was away off scratching for worms; and Gyp, the dog, was barking at a bossy calf down by the brook, for, of course, Polly's pets did not know it was her birthday and that they were to have their pictures taken with her.

Polly called, as loud as she could, "Here, Blackie, Blackie; here, Banty, Banty; here, Gyp, Gyp," and as quick as a wink the animals came running up to her.

At first she sat down, but all three of her pets got in her lap until you could scarcely see Polly behind them. That would not do, of course, because it was Polly's picture that was the most important.

Finally, she stood up and made her pets stand up, too. Then she had more trouble, for Gyp wanted to stand next to her, and so did Banty, and so did Blackie, but she told them if they were not good and did not stand just where she put them, they could not have their pictures taken at all. She even said she would get the little pig that could not find his way home, and would have her picture taken with _him_. They did not like that, so they promised to be good. She stood Banty on one side of her, and Gyp on the other side, and then she put Blackie on one end next to Banty. But Gyp and Blackie jumped around so lively that Brother Ned ran into the house and brought out Polly's toy cow, and stood her next to Blackie, and that kept _him_ quiet, because he was afraid the cow would hook him with her horns--he did not know it was not a _real_ cow. Then Ned brought out Polly's toy lion and put him next to Gyp, and that kept _him_ quiet, because he thought the lion would eat him up,--he did not know it was not a _real_ lion.

So, after they were all nice and quiet, Ned called out:

"Ready! Look pleasant! One, two, three--all over!"

And here is the way they looked in the picture that Ned took that morning:

IDLE BEN

Idle Ben was a naughty boy
(If you please, this story's true),
He caused his teachers great annoy,
And his worthy parents, too.

Idle Ben, in a boastful way
To his anxious parents told
That while he was young he thought he'd play,
And he'd learn when he grew old.

"Ah, Ben," said his mother, and dropped a tear,
"You'll be sorry for this, by-and-by"
Says Ben, "To me that's not very clear,
But at any rate I'll try."

So idle Ben, he refused to learn,
Thinking that he could wait;
But when he had his living to earn,
He found it was just too late.

Little girls, little boys, don't delay your work,
Some day you'll be women and men.
Whenever your task you're inclined to shirk,
Take warning by idle Ben.

THE HOLE IN THE CANNA-BED

BY ISABEL GORDON CURTIS

One evening in May, Chuckie Wuckie's papa finished setting out the plants in the front yard. Into one large bed he put a dozen fine cannas. They looked like fresh young shoots of corn. He told Chuckie Wuckie that when summer came they would grow tall, with great spreading leaves and beautiful red-and-yellow blossoms.

"Taller than me, papa?" asked the little girl, trying to imagine what they would look like.

"Much taller; as tall as I am."

Chuckie Wuckie listened gravely while papa told her she must be very careful about the canna-bed. She must not throw her ball into it, or dig there, or set a foot in the black, smooth earth. She nodded her head solemnly, and made a faithful promise. Then she gathered up her tiny rake and hoe and spade, and carried them to the vine-covered shed to put beside her father's tools.

Next morning, when papa went to look at the canna-bed, he discovered close beside one of the largest plants a snug, round hole. It looked like a little nest. He found Chuckie Wuckie digging with an iron spoon in the ground beside the fence.

"Dearie," he said, "do you remember I told you, last night, that you must not dig in the canna-bed?"

"Yes," said the little girl.

"Come and see the hole I found there."

So Chuckie Wuckie trotted along at her father's heels. She stood watching him as he filled in the hole and smoothed down the earth.

"I did not dig it," said Chuckie Wuckie. "I just came and looked to see if the canna had grown any through the night, but I did not dig it."

"Really?" asked her papa, very gravely.

"Really and truly, I did not put my foot on there," said Chuckie Wuckie.

Papa did not say another word. But he could not help thinking that the hole looked as if the iron spoon had neatly scooped it out.

Next morning he found the hole dug there again, and Chuckie Wuckie was still busy in her corner by the fence. He did not speak of it, however. There were prints of small feet on the edge. He only smoothed down the earth and raked the bed. He did this for three mornings, then he led Chuckie Wuckie again to the canna-bed.

"Papa," she said earnestly, "I did not dig there. Truly, I didn't. The hole is there every morning. I found it to-day before you came out, but I did not dig it." There were tears in her brown eyes.

"I believe you, Chuckie Wuckie dear," said her father, earnestly.

That night the little girl stood at the gate, watching for her father to jump off the car. She could hardly wait for him to kiss her. She took his hand and led him to the canna-bed.

"Look!" she cried eagerly.

She was pointing excitedly to a hole beside the roots of a fresh, green canna plant.

"That hole again," said her father. "There's a stone in it now, isn't there?"

"No, that's what I thought; stoop down and look close, papa!" cried Chuckie Wuckie.

It was the head of a fat hop-toad, but all that could be seen was its mouth and bright eyes. It was staring at them. Papa poked it with the point of his umbrella. It scrambled deeper into the hole, until there was nothing to be seen but the dirt. It was slowly changing to the color of the black earth.

"I watched him," cried Chuckie Wuckie, excitedly--"oh, for an hour! When I found him he was just hopping on the canna-bed. He was looking for his house. He acted as if the door had been shut in his face. Then he began to open it. He crawled and scrambled round and round, and threw up the dirt, and poked and pushed. At last he had the hole made, just as it is every morning, and he crawled in. Then he lay and blinked at me."

"Clever fellow," said papa. "Well, we won't grudge him a home, and we won't shut the door again in his face, will we, Chuckie Wuckie?"

The cannas have grown very tall now--almost as tall as Chuckie Wuckie's papa--and so thick that you cannot see where the roots are; but a fat, brown hop-toad has a snug, cool, safe little nest there, and he gratefully crawls into it when the sun grows very hot.

The Conceited Mouse

BY ELLA FOSTER CASE

Once upon a time there was a very small mouse with a very, very large opinion of himself. What he didn't know his own grandmother couldn't tell him.

"You'd better keep a bright eye in your head, these days," said she, one chilly afternoon. "Your gran'ther has smelled a trap."

"Scat!" answered the small mouse--"'s if I don't know a trap when I see it!" And that was all the thanks she got for her good advice.

"Go your own way, for you will go no other," the wise old mouse said to herself; and she scratched her nose slowly and sadly as she watched her grandson scamper up the cellar stairs.

"Ah!" sniffed he, poking his whiskers into a crack of the dining-room cupboard, "cheese--as I'm alive!" Scuttle--scuttle. "I'll be squizzled, if it isn't in that cunning little house; I know what that is--a cheese-house, of course. What a very snug hall! That's the way with cheese-houses. I know, 'cause I've heard the dairymaid talk about 'em. It must be rather inconvenient, though, to carry milk up that step and through an iron door. I know why it's so open--to let in fresh air. I tell you, that cheese is good! Kind of a reception-room in there--guess I know a reception-room from a hole in the wall. No trouble at all about getting in, either. Wouldn't grandmother open her eyes to see me here! Guess I'll take another nibble at that cheese, and go out. What's that noise? What in squeaks is the matter with the door? This is a cheese-house, I know it is--but what if it should turn out to be a--O-o-o-eeee!" And that's just what it did turn out to be.

#RHYMES CONCERNING "MOTHER"#

A BOY'S MOTHER[O]

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

My mother she's so good to me,
Ef I was good as I could be,
I couldn't be as good--no, sir!--
Can't any boy be good as her.

She loves me when I'm glad er sad;
She loves me when I'm good er bad;
An', what's a funniest thing, she says
She loves me when she punishes.

I don't like her to punish me--
That don't hurt--but it hurts to see
Her cryin'.--Nen _I_ cry; an' nen
We both cry an' be good again.

She loves me when she cuts an' sews
My little cloak an' Sund'y clothes;
An' when my Pa comes home to tea,
She loves him 'most as much as me.

She laughs an' tells him all I said,
An' grabs me up an' pats my head;
An' I hug _her_, an' hug my Pa,
An' love him purt' nigh much as Ma.

[O] From "Rhymes of Childhood," by James Whitcomb Riley. Used by special
permission of the publishers. The Bobbs-Merrill Company.

MOTHER

BY ROSE FYLEMAN

When mother comes each morning
She wears her oldest things,
She doesn't make a rustle,
She hasn't any rings;
She says, "Good-morning, chickies,
It's such a lovely day,
Let's go into the garden
And have a game of play!"

When mother comes at tea-time
Her dress goes shoo-shoo-shoo,
She always has a little bag,
Sometimes a sunshade too;
She says, "I am so hoping
There's something left for me;
Please hurry up, dear Nanna,
I'm dying for my tea."

When mother comes at bed-time
Her evening dress she wears,
She tells us each a story
When we have said our prayers;
And if there is a party
She looks so shiny bright
It's like a lovely fairy
Dropped in to say good-night.

THE GOODEST MOTHER

Evening was falling, cold and dark,
And people hurried along the way
As if they were longing soon to mark
Their own home candle's cheering ray.

Before me toiled in the whirling wind
A woman with bundles great and small,
And after her tugged, a step behind,
The Bundle she loved the best of all.

A dear little roly-poly boy
With rosy cheeks, and a jacket blue,
Laughing and chattering full of joy,
And here's what he said--I tell you true:

"You're the goodest mother that ever was."
A voice as clear as a forest bird's;
And I'm sure the glad young heart had cause
To utter the sweet of the lovely words.

Perhaps the woman had worked all day
Washing or scrubbing; perhaps she sewed;
I knew, by her weary footfall's way
That life for her was an uphill road.

But here was a comfort. Children dear,
Think what a comfort you might give
To the very best friend you can have here,
The lady fair in whose house you live,

If once in a while you'd stop and say,--
In task or play for a moment pause,
And tell her in sweet and winning way,
"You're the GOODEST mother that ever was."

MOTHER'S WAY

BY CARRIE WILLIAMS

Nowadays girls go to cooking-school
And learn to cook just so by rule;
But all I know, I'm glad to say,
My mother taught me day by day.

She did not need a great cook-book;
She knew how much and what it took
To make things good and sweet and light.
What Mother does is always right.

WHO IS IT?

BY ETHEL M. KELLEY

Whose hair is all curly, an' eyes "baby-blue"?
Who wakes up too early 'fore night-time is fru?
Who dresses her pillow all up in the clo'es,
An' counts all her piggies when nobody knows?
An' who's des' as _quiet_ as _quiet_ can be?
Muvver says--_me_.

Who w'ites wif a pencil all over a book?
An' who gets the ink when nobody does look?
An' who gets her fingies all blacker than black?
An' who gets 'em spatted when Muvver comes back?
An' who's des' as _sorry_ as _sorry_ can be?
Muvver says--_me_.

Who goes down to dinner on Sundays at two,
All dressed in w'ite frillies, an' tied up in blue?
An' who waits for Father to cut up her meat,
When she is _so_ hungry an' nuffin' to eat?
An' who's des' as "_patient_" as "_patient_" can be?
Muvver says--_me_.

Who gets on her nightie an' says all her prayers?
An' then comes a-stealin' an' creepin' down-stairs?
Who cuddles up comfy an' teases to stay?
An' who is so spoiled 'at she _won't_ go away,
Even when she's as _sleepy_ as _sleepy_ can be?
Muvver says--_me_.

MY DEAREST IS A LADY

BY MIRIAM S. CLARK

My dearest is a lady, she wears a gown of blue,
She sits beside the window where the yellow sun comes through;
The light is shining on her hair, and all the time she sews,
She sings a song about a knight, a dear, brave knight she knows.

My dearest is a lady--and oh, I love her well!
Full five and twenty times a day this very tale I tell;
For I'm the knight in armor, a shield and sword I wear,
And Mother is my lady, with the light upon her hair.

HOW MANY LUMPS!

How many lumps of sugar
Ought a little girl to use
To sweeten a cup of chocolate?
I can take just what I choose.

Five make it just like candy,
And four are most as good--
There's no one to say I mustn't,
Now I wonder if I should.

Three is what Nurse allows me,
So that would be surely right.
Uncle Jack takes two lumps always
And says it is "out of sight."

Five, four, three, two--I wonder--
Or none, just like Papa?
Well, after all, I'll take but one
And copy my dear Mama.

When Mother Goes Away

BY CLARA ODELL LYON

Says Bobby to Mother:
"I'll be good as I can."
"I _know_ you will, Bobby;
You're Mother's little man."

BUT--

His mother then takes every match from the box;
The door of the pantry securely she locks;
Puts the hammer and tacks, and the scissors and ink
In the best hiding places of which she can think
And wonders at last, as her hat she pins on,
What mischief her Bobby will do while she's gone!

AN OLD SONG--"THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!"

When people ask me where I live,
I hate to have to go and give
A name like Smithville, plain.
I'd rather say:--"Sir, if you please,
My home is in the Hebrides,"
Or, "High up in the Pyrenees,"
Or, "At Gibraltar, Spain."

"Constantinople," too, sounds fine,
And "Drachenfels-upon-the-Rhine,"
And "Madagascar," too;
And "Yokohama" sounds so great,
And "Hindustan" is just first-rate;
I rather like even "Bering Strait,"
And "Cuzco" in Peru.

And yet, I would not be at night,
Alone upon the "Isle of Wight,"
Or on the "Zuyder Zee."
At "Nova Zembla," in a gale,
I know that I should just turn pale;
For fear of earthquakes, I should quail
In "sunny Italy."

A place that sounds nice on the map,
May have a little too much snap
To keep within its wall,
And so, though many names I see,
That sound as stylish as can be,
There's no place quite so good for me,
As Smithville, after all!

_Blanche Elizabeth Wade._

#UNCLES AND AUNTS AND OTHER RELATIVES#

GRANDMOTHER'S MEMORIES

BY HELEN A. BYROM

Grandmother sits in her easy-chair,
In the ruddy sunlight's glow;
Her thoughts are wandering far away
In the land of Long Ago.
Again she dwells in her father's home,
And before her loving eyes
In the light of a glorious summer day
The gray old farm-house lies.

She hears the hum of the spinning-wheel
And the spinner's happy song;
She sees the bundles of flax that hang
From the rafters, dark and long;
She sees the sunbeams glide and dance
Across the sanded floor;
And feels on her cheek the wandering breeze
That steals through the open door.

Beyond, the flowers nod sleepily
At the well-sweep, gaunt and tall;
And up from the glen comes the musical roar
Of the distant waterfall.
The cows roam lazily to and fro
Along the shady lane;
The shouts of the reapers sound faint and far
From the fields of golden grain.

And grandma herself, a happy girl,
Stands watching the setting sun,
While the spinner rests, and the reapers cease,
And the long day's work is done;
Then something wakes her--the room is dark,
And vanished the sunset glow,
And grandmother wakes, with a sad surprise,
From the dreams of long ago.

Great-Aunt Lucy Lee

By Cora Walker Hayes

Sometimes when I am tired of play
My mother says to me,
"Come, daughter, we will call to-day
On Great-aunt Lucy Lee."

And soon, by mother's side, I skip
Along the quiet street,
Where tall old trees, on either side,
Throw shadows at my feet.

The houses stand in solemn rows,
And not a child is seen;
The blinds are drawn, the doors are shut,
The walks are span and clean.

Then when we come to number three,
I stretch my hand up--so!
And find the old brass knocker's ring;
I rap, and in we go.

There Great-aunt Lucy, small and prim,
Sits by the chimney-piece;
Her knitting-needles clicking go,
And never seem to cease.

Aunt Lucy's eyes are blue and kind,
Her wrinkled face is fair;
She hides with cap or snowy lace
Her pretty silver hair.

Aunt Lucy's voice is sweet and low,
Her smile is quick and bright;
She wears a gown of lavender,
And kerchief soft and white.

I fold my hands in front of me
And sit quite still and staid,
Till Great-aunt Lucy, smiling, says,
"Come hither, little maid!"

There Great-aunt Lucy small and prim
Sits by the chimney-piece
Her knitting needles clicking go
And never seem to cease]

And from her silken bag she takes
A peppermint or two,
And questions me about my play,
My school, my dolls, the Zoo.

And then she rings for Hannah, who
Comes hobbling stiffly in,
With sugared cakes and jelly-tarts
Upon a shining tin.

When I have eaten all I can,
Aunt Lucy bids me go
Into the garden, where all kinds
Of lovely flowers grow.

Pale roses of a hundred leaves,
Sweet-william, four-o'clocks,
Pinks, daisies, bleeding-hearts and things
All bordered 'round with box.

And there's an arbor, where the grapes
Hang low enough to reach;
A plum-tree just across the path,
And by the wall a peach.

And oh! I think it very nice
To come and visit here;
The house, the garden and the folks
All seem so very queer!

And though I am well satisfied
A while to romp and play,--
A wee old lady, kind and dear,
_I_ want to be some day;

And so I hope that when I, too,
Have grown to eighty-three,
I'll be a lovely lady like
My Great-aunt Lucy Lee.

Our Visitors

By Isabel Lyndall

When grandma comes to visit,
She very often brings
Her satchel full of cookies,
And ginger cakes and things.

Grandpa carries in his grip
For Dorothy and me,
One of the newest toys that moves,
When wound up with a key.

Aunt Sarah says there is no need
To have so many toys!
She seems to think that useful things
Are best for girls and boys.

Uncle Jack we're glad to see
Although he is a tease.
He gives us each a quarter
To spend just as we please!

BEAUTIFUL GRANDMAMMA

Grandmamma sits in her quaint arm-chair--
Never was lady more sweet and fair!
Her gray locks ripple like silver shells,
And her brow its own calm story tells
Of a gentle life and a peaceful even,
A trust in God and a hope in heaven!

Little girl Mary sits rocking away
In her own low seat, like some winsome fay;
Two dolly babies her kisses share,
And another one lies by the side of her chair.
Mary is fair as the morning dew--
Cheeks of roses and ribbons of blue!

"Say, grandmamma," says the pretty elf,
"Tell me a story about yourself.
When you were little, what did you play?
Was you good or naughty, the whole long day?
Was it hundreds and hundreds of years ago?
And what makes your soft hair as white as snow?

"Did you have a mamma to hug and kiss?
And a dolly like this, and this, and this?
Did you have a pussy like my little Kate?
Did you go to bed when the clock struck eight?
Did you have long curls and beads like mine?
And a new silk apron, with ribbons fine?"

Grandmamma smiled at the little maid,
And laying aside her knitting, she said:
"Go to my desk and a red box you'll see;
Carefully lift it and bring it to me."
So Mary put her dollies away and ran,
Saying, "I'll be as careful as ever I can."

Then grandmamma opened the box: and lo!
A beautiful child with a throat like snow,
Lips just tinted like pink shells rare,
Eyes of hazel and golden hair,
Hands all dimpled, and teeth like pearls--
Fairest and sweetest of little girls!

"Oh, who is it?" cried winsome May;
"How I wish she was here to-day!
Wouldn't I love her like everything,
And give her my new carnelian ring!
Say, dear grandmamma, who can she be?"
"Darling," said grandmamma, "that child was me!"

May looked along at the dimpled grace,
And then at the saint-like, fair old face,
"How funny!" she cried, with a smile and a kiss,
"To have such a dear little grandma as this!
Still," she added, with a smiling zest,
"I think, dear grandma, I like you best!"

So May climbed on the silken knee,
And grandma told her her history--
What plays she played, what toys she had,
How at times she was naughty, or good, or sad.
"But the best thing you did," said May, "don't you see?
Was to grow a beautiful grandma for me!"

THANKSGIVING DAY

BY LYDIA MARIA CHILD

Over the river and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way
To carry the sleigh
Through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river and through the wood--
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.

Over the river and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play;
Hear the bells ring,
"Ting-a-ling-ding!"
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river and through the wood,
Trot fast, my dapple-gray!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting hound!
For this is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river and through the wood,
And straight through the barn-yard gate.
We seem to go
Extremely slow--
It is so hard to wait!

Over the river and through the wood--
Now grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

GRANDMA'S MINUET

Grandma told me all about it;
Told me so I couldn't doubt it;
How she danced--my grandma danced,
Long ago.
How she held her pretty head,
How her dainty skirt she spread,
How she turned her little toes,
Smiling little human rose!
Long ago.

Grandma's hair was bright and sunny,
Dimpled cheeks, too--ah, how funny!
Really, quite a pretty girl,
Long ago.
Bless her! Why, she wears a cap,
Grandma, does, and takes a nap,
Every single day, and yet,
Grandma danced a minuet,
Long ago.

No--they moved with stately grace,
Everything in proper place;
Gliding slowly forward, then
Slowly courtesying back again,
Long ago.
Modern ways are quite alarming,
Grandma says; but boys were charming--
Girls and boys, I mean, of course--
Long ago.

Bravely modest, grandly shy--
Now she sits there rocking, rocking,
Always knitting grandpa's stocking,
Every girl was taught to knit,
Long ago.
Yet her figure is so neat,
And her smile so staid and sweet,
I can almost see her now
Bending to her partner's bow,
Long ago.

Grandma says our modern jumping,
Hopping, rushing, whirling, bumping
Would have shocked the gentlefolk,
Long ago.
What if all of us should try
Just to feel like those who met
In the graceful minuet,
Long ago?

With the minuet in fashion,
Who could fly into a passion?
All would wear the calm they wore,
Long ago.
In time to come, if I perchance
Should tell my grandchild of our dance
I should really like to say:
"We did, dear, in some such way,
Long ago."

AUNT JAN

BY NORMAN GALE

When Aunt Jan's coming there's such romping in the house,
She's sweeter than a daffodil and softer than a mouse!
She sings about the passages, and never wants to rest,
And father says it's all because a bird is in her breast.

When Aunt Jan's kissing there's such a crowding round her knees,
Such clambers to her bosom, and such battles for a squeeze!
We dirty both her snowy cuffs, we trample on her gown,
And sometimes all her yellow hair comes tumbling, tumbling down.

When Aunt Jan's dancing we all watch her as she goes,
With in-and-out and round-about upon her shiny toes;
And when her merry breath is tired she stops the fun and stands
To curtsy saucily to us, or kiss her pretty hands.

When Aunt Jan's playing, the piano seems alive,
With all the notes as busy as the bees are in a hive;
And when it's time for Bedfordshire, as sweetly as a lark
She sings that God is waiting to protect us in the dark.

When Aunt Jan's leaving we are not ashamed to cry,
A-kissing at the station and a-waving her good-by;
But springtime brings the crocus after winter, rain and frost
So dear Aunt Jan will come again. She isn't really lost.

AFTER TEA

Very often in the evening,
Shortly after tea,
Father, when he's read the paper,
Takes me on his knee.

There I fix myself "quite comfy,"
In his arms so strong,
While he makes up lovely stories
As he goes along.

Mother near us with her sewing,
Rocking to and fro,
Smiles and listens to the stories,
Likes them too, I know.

And I'm sure that she is thinking,
What perhaps you've guessed,
That the stories Father tells us
Are the very best.

#AMUSING ALPHABETS#

TINGLE, TANGLE TITMOUSE

"Come hither, little puppy-dog,
I'll give you a new collar,
If you will learn to read your book,
And be a clever scholar."

"No! no!" replied the puppy-dog,
"I've other fish to fry;
For I must learn to guard your house,
And bark when thieves come nigh."

With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
Robin knows great A,
And B, and C, and D, and E,
F, G, H, I, J, K.

"Come hither, pretty cockatoo,
Come and learn your letters;
And you shall have a knife and fork
To eat with, like your betters."

"No! no!" the cockatoo replied,
"My beak will do as well;
I'd rather eat my victuals thus
Than go and learn to spell."

With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
Robin knows great A,
And B, and C, and D, and E,
F, G, H, I, J, K.

"Come hither, little pussy-cat,
If you'll your grammar study,
I'll give you silver clogs to wear,
Whene'er the gutter's muddy."

"No! whilst I grammar learn," says puss,
"Your house will in a trice
Be overrun from top to toe
With flocks of rats and mice."

With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
Robin knows great A,
And B, and C, and D, and E,
F, G, H, I, J, K.

"Come hither, then, good little boy,
And learn your alphabet,
And you a pair of boots and spurs,
Like your papa's, shall get."

"Oh, yes! I'll learn my alphabet,
And when I've learned to read,
Perhaps papa will give me, too,
A pretty, long-tailed steed."

With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
Robin knows great A,
And B, and C, and D, and E,
F, G, H, I, J, K.

AN ENGLISH ALPHABET

Ale,
A is for Apple,
Artichoke,
and Ann;

Brown Bear,
B is for Black Bear,
and Bran;

Chestnut,
C is for Clay,
Coke, and
Coal,

Dear,
D is for Dray,
Dick,
Duck, and
Droll,

Eve,
E is for Eagle,
Eel,
East, and
Ear;

Fan,
F is for Feather,
Furrow,
Fox, and
Fear;

Goose,
G is for Gander,
Green,
Grub, and
Gray;

Horse,
H is for Hound,
Hip,
Haw, and
Hay;

Ice,
I is for Idler,
Ink,
If, and
Ill;

James,
J is for Jane, for
Jack, and
Jill;

Kiss,
K is for Kitten,
King,
Kitchen,
and Kite;

Lamb,
L is for Lady,
Lace,
Luck, and
Light;

Moon,
M is for Mitten,
Mist,
Moth, and
Mote;

Ned,
N is for Nurse, for
Nose,
Nut, and
Note;

Oil,
O is for Order,
Oat,
Orange,
Oak;

Pin,
P is for Pan, and
Pig in a
Poke;

Queen,
Q is for Question,
Quarter, and
Quack;

Reel,
R is for Radish,
Ruff,
Reeve, and
Rack;

Skate,
S is for Salmon,
Sprat,
Saw, and
School;

Tin,
T is for Teapot,
Tar,
Torch, and
Tool;

Urn,
U is for Usher,
Umpire, and
Use;

Vegetables,
V is for Varnish,
and Views;

Want,
W is for War,
Water, and
Wing;

Xenophon,
X is for and
Xerxes,
the King;

Yam,
Y is for Yacht,
Yellow, and
Yawl;

Zeal,
Z is for Zebra,
Zany--

That's all!

NONSENSE ALPHABET

BY EDWARD LEAR

A was an ant
Who seldom stood still,
And who made a nice house
In the side of a hill.
_a_
Nice little ant!

B was a book
With a binding of blue,
And pictures and stories
For me and for you.
_b_
Nice little book!

C was a camel;
You rode on his hump;
And if you fell off,
You came down such a bump!
_c_
What a high camel!

D was a duck
With spots on his back,
Who lived in the water,
And always said "Quack!"
_d_
Dear little duck!

E was an elephant,
Stately and wise:
He had tusks and a trunk,
And two queer little eyes.
_e_
Oh, what funny small eyes!

F was a fish
Who was caught in a net;
But he got out again,
And is quite alive yet.
_f_
Lively young fish!

G was a goat
Who was spotted with brown;
When he did not lie still
He walked up and down.
_g_
Good little goat!

H was a hat
Which was all on one side;
Its crown was too high,
And its brim was too wide.
_h_
Oh, what a hat!

I was some ice
So white and so nice,
But which nobody tasted;
And so it was wasted.
_i_
All that good ice!

J was a jackdaw
Who hopped up and down
In the principal street
Of a neighboring town.
_j_
All through the town!

K was a kite
Which flew out of sight,
Above houses so high,
Quite into the sky.
_k_
Fly away, kite!

L was a light
Which burned all the night,
And lighted the gloom
Of a very dark room.
_l_
Useful nice light!

M was a man,
Who walked round and round;
And he wore a long coat
That came down to the ground.
_m_
Funny old man!

N was a net
Which was thrown in the sea
To catch fish for dinner
For you and for me.
_n_
Nice little net!

O was an orange
So yellow and round;
When it fell off the tree,
It fell down to the ground.
_o_
Down to the ground!

P was a pig,
Who was not very big,
But his tail was too curly,
And that made him surly.
_p_
Cross little pig!

Q was a quail
With a very short tail;
And he fed upon corn
In the evening and morn.
_q_
Quaint little quail!

R was a rabbit,
Who had a bad habit
Of eating the flowers
In gardens and bowers.
_r_
Naughty fat rabbit!

S was the sugar-tongs,
Nippity-nee,
To take up the sugar
To put in our tea.
_s_
Nippity-nee!

T was a tortoise,
All yellow and black:
He walked slowly away,
And he never came back.
_t_
Torty never came back!

U was an urn
All polished and bright,
And full of hot water
At noon and at night.
_u_
Useful old urn!

V was a veil
With a border upon it,
And a ribbon to tie it
All round a pink bonnet.
_v_
Pretty green veil!

W was a whale
With a very long tail,
Whose movements were frantic
Across the Atlantic.
_w_
Monstrous old whale!

X was King Xerxes,
Who, more than all Turks, is
Renowned for his fashion
Of fury and passion.
_x_
Angry old Xerxes.

Y was a yew,
Which flourished and grew
By a quiet abode
Near the side of a road.
_y_
Dark little yew!

Z was a zebra,
All striped white and black;
And if he were tame,
You might ride on his back.
_z_
Pretty striped zebra!

PAST HISTORY

BY EDWARD LEAR

_a_
A was once an apple-pie,
Pidy,
Widy,
Tidy,
Pidy,
Nice insidy,
Apple-pie!

_b_
B was once a little bear,
Beary,
Wary,
Hairy,
Beary,
Take cary,
Little bear!

_c_
C was once a little cake,
Caky,
Baky,
Maky,
Caky,
Taky caky,
Little cake!

_d_
D was once a little doll,
Dolly,
Molly,
Polly,
Nolly,
Nursy dolly,
Little doll!

_e_
E was once a little eel,
Eely,
Weely,
Peely,
Eely,
Twirly, tweely,
Little eel!

_f_
F was once a little fish,
Fishy,
Wishy,
Squishy,
Fishy,
In a dishy,
Little fish!

_g_
G was once a little goose,
Goosey,
Moosy,
Boosey,
Goosey,
Waddly-woosy,
Little goose!

_h_
H was once a little hen,
Henny,
Chenny,
Tenny,
Henny,
Eggsy-any,
Little hen?

_i_
I was once a bottle of ink,
Inky,
Dinky,
Thinky,
Inky,
Black minky,
Bottle of ink!

_j_
J was once a jar of jam,
Jammy,
Mammy,
Clammy,
Jammy,
Sweety, swammy,
Jar of jam!

_k_
K was once a little kite,
Kity,
Whity,
Flighty,
Kity,
Out of sighty,
Little kite!

_l_
L was once a little lark,
Larky,
Marky,
Harky,
Larky,
In the parky,
Little lark!

_m_
M was once a little mouse,
Mousy,
Bousy,
Sousy,
Mousy,
In the housy,
Little mouse!

_n_
N was once a little needle,
Needly,
Tweedly,
Threedly,
Needly,
Wisky, wheedly,
Little needle!

_o_
O was once a little owl,
Owly,
Prowly,
Howly,
Owly,
Browny fowly,
Little owl!

_p_
P was once a little pump,
Pumpy,
Slumpy,
Flumpy,
Pumpy,
Dumpy, thumpy,
Little pump!

_q_
Q was once a little quail,
Quaily,
Faily,
Daily,
Quaily,
Stumpy-taily,
Little quail!

_r_
R was once a little rose,
Rosy,
Posy,
Nosy,
Rosy,
Blows-y, grows-y,
Little rose!

_s_
S was once a little shrimp,
Shrimpy,
Nimpy,
Flimpy,
Shrimpy,
Jumpy, jimpy,
Little shrimp!

_t_
T was once a little thrush,
Thrushy,
Hushy,
Bushy,
Thrushy,
Flitty, flushy,
Little thrush!

_u_
U was once a little urn,
Urny,
Burny,
Turny,
Urny,
Bubbly, burny,
Little urn!

_v_
V was once a little vine,
Viny,
Winy,
Twiny,
Viny,
Twisty-twiny,
Little vine!

_w_
W was once a whale,
Whaly,
Scaly,
Shaly,
Whaly,
Tumbly-taily,
Mighty whale!

_x_
X was once a great king Xerxes,
Xerxy,
Perxy,
Turxy,
Xerxy,
Linxy, lurxy,
Great King Xerxes!

_y_
Y was once a little yew
Yewdy,
Fewdy,
Crudy,
Yewdy,
Growdy, grewdy,
Little yew!

_z_
Z was once a piece of zinc,
Tinky,
Winky,
Blinky,
Tinky,
Tinkly minky,
Piece of zinc!

THE APPLE PIE

A was an apple pie,
B bit it;
C cut it;
D dealt it;
E ate it;
F fought for it;
G got it;
H had it;
I inquired about it;
J joined it;
K kept it;
L longed for it;
M mourned for it;
N nodded at it;
O opened it;
P peeped in it;
Q quartered it;
R ran for it;
S stole it;
T took it;
U upset it;
V viewed it;
W wanted it;
X, Y, Z, and amper-sand,
All hoped for a piece in hand.

WHO'S WHO IN THE ZOO?

BY CAROLYN WELLS.

A is for the Antelope,
A beast that I have never met;
They say he jumps the skipping-rope
And makes a charming household pet.

Well, as to that I cannot say;
But A is for him, anyway.

B stands for Bajjerkeit; maybe
You've never chanced this beast to see;
So I'll describe him to you. Well,
There isn't very much to tell.
One day I idly chanced to look
Within a Natural History book,
And there I saw his funny name,
And thought I'd hand him down to fame.

C is for Codfish. He must be
The saltest fish that swims the sea.
And, oh!
He has a secret woe!
You see, he thinks it's all his fault
The ocean is so very salt!
And so,
In hopeless grief and woe,
The Codfish has, for many years,
Shed quarts of salty, briny tears!
And, oh!
His tears still flow--
So great his grief and woe!

D stands for Dodo. He's a bird
That isn't known to many;
And this the reason, I have heard--
Because there aren't any!
The Dodo, who once blithely blinked,
Is now exceedingly extinct,
And doesn't it seem rather nice
To think that D stands for him twice?

E is for Elephant. I know
He isn't natty, trim, or trig;
His eyes are rather small, and, oh,
I fear his ears are far too big!
But there's a well-attested rumor
That he has quite a sense of humor;
So crack a joke whene'er you meet
An Elephant upon the street.

F is Flamingo. All please note
His wondrous height and girth;
He has the longest legs and throat
Of anything on earth.
Such throats are trying, are they not?
In case one catches cold;
Ah, yes! but just think what a lot
His Christmas stockings hold!

G stands for Gnu. Of course that's right, but then,
It seems as if it _should_ begin with N.
I could select some other beast as well--
Say, Goose or Grampus, Gadfly or Gazelle;
But seems to me the Gnu is more attractive,
He is so merry, frivolous, and active.

H is for Hippopotamus.
If you desire a pet,
He is, it really seems to us,
The best that you can get.
Train him to follow at your heels
Whene'er you walk abroad,
And note with what delighted squeals
The lookers-on applaud!

I is for Ibex. This fine creature
Is favored well in form and feature.
And I is for Ichneumon, too--
But what is that to me or you?
But Ibex answers just as well,
And isn't near so hard to spell.

J stands for Jay. This little fellow
Is blue. Sometimes I think
I'd like him better were he yellow,
Or even reddish pink.
I know, of course, it is absurd
To mind the color of a bird;
And, now I think of it, I've seen
Some Jays that were exceeding green.

K stands for Kangaroo. I've looked all round:
A better beast for K cannot be found.
The Kangaroo can hop and hop and hop;
Somehow he never seems to want to stop.
What more could one desire of him, I pray,
Than just to hop around and stand for K?

L is for Leopard. Do you know
He's very, very vain?
And sometimes quite dejectedly
He mopes along the plain.
At these sad times the Leopard's heart
Is filled with angry passion,
Because his spots are out of date,
And Zebra stripes in fashion!
But other years, when fashion-books
Say spots are all the style,
The Leopard proudly stalks abroad
With most complacent smile.

M is for Microbe. This bad beast
Is very, very small;
Some people say--or think, at least--
He isn't there at all!
He's smaller than the mitiest mite;
The only way he comes in sight
Is when he's pictured in a book,
Or through a microbescope you look.

N is for Nautilus, and he's
A pirate, bold and gay;
He dashes madly through the seas,
A-searching of his prey.
He's just a sort of silvery mass,
All spotted blue and pink;
And with his eye, which looks like glass,
He winks a wicked wink.

O stands for the obsequious Ounce,
Who weighs full many a pound;
At you he playfully would bounce,
If you were walking round.
Approach him and the Ounce you'll see
Spring like a catapult;
Just try it once, and you will be
Surprised at the result.

P stands for Puma. His sleek paws
Go softly pit-a-pat;
His teeth are sharp, and sharp his claws;
He's just a great big cat.
There were some Pumas in the ark;
There are some also in the park:
But, strange to say, in Montezuma
They do not raise a single Puma!

Q stands for Quagga. We've been taught
Nothing was ever made in vain;
But even after serious thought
The Quagga's use is not quite plain.
Though, stay!--ah, yes! at last I see
Why the queer Quagga has to be:
Were there no Quaggas, how would you
Find any beast to stand for Q?

R's for Rhinoceros. You see
His clothing does not fit;
Yet so indifferent is he,
He doesn't care a bit.
Although it does not seem to us
The unconcerned Rhinoceros
Has any claim to wit or grace,
We must admire his earnest face.

S stands for Sponge. You'd scarce suppose
This could be called a creature;
It hasn't any eyes or nose--
Indeed, it has no feature.
And, though this may cause some surprise,
The mermaids, I dare say,
Will set a Sponge at night to rise,
And make sponge-cake next day.