Chapter II: My Japanese Fan

I have a friend, a little friend,
Who lives upon a fan;
Perhaps he is a woman,
Perhaps she is a man.
His clothes they are so very queer,
So _very_ queer, in sooth,
I sometimes call him "lovely maid,"
And sometimes "gentle youth."

Her hair is combed up straight and smooth
Above his pretty face.
His looks are full of friendliness;
Her attitude, of grace.
And every morning when I wake,
And every evening too,
She greets me with his pleasant smile,
And friendly "How-d'ye-do?"

She wonders why I lie in bed;
He thinks my wisest plan
Would be to come and live with her
Upon a paper fan.
But that, alas! can never be;
And so I never can
Know whether he's a woman,
Or whether she's a man.

MARJORIE'S KNITTING.

In the chimney-corner our Marjorie sits,
Softly singing the while she knits.
The fire-light, flickering here and there,
Plays on her face and her shining hair;

And glimmering bright in the fitful glow,
Backward and forward her needles go,--
Backward and forward, swift and true,--
And hark! the needles are singing too.

"One and two and three and four,
Counting and narrowing o'er and o'er;
Knit and rib and seam and purl.
Clickety clackety, good little girl!"

And what is our Marjorie knitting, I pray?
A soft, warm scarf, for a wintry day,
A pair of mittens for schoolboy Fred,
Or some reins for toddling Baby Ned?

I cannot see, in the twilight gray,
How many needles are working away;
But I see them flickering in and out,
And _they_ know exactly what they are about.

"One and two and three and four
Counting and narrowing o'er and o'er;
Knit and rib and seam and purl.
Clickety clackety, good little girl!"

The fire is whispering, "Marjorie mine,
'Tis a positive pleasure on you to shine,
From your pretty brown hair, all shining and neat,
Down to your dainty, trim-slippered feet."

The kettle is murmuring, "Marjorie dear,
'Tis all for your sake that I'm bubbling here;
But though I have bubbled both loud and long,
You've ears for nought save those needles' song."

"One and two and three and four,
Counting and narrowing o'er and o'er;
Knit and rib and seam and purl.
Clickety clackety, good little girl!"

Marjorie cheerily works away,
Nor ever her thoughts from her knitting stray.
Whatever it is, 'twill be sure to fit,
For loving thoughts in the web are knit.

The kettle may bubble, the fire may burn,
But Marjorie's thoughts they cannot turn;
And I think my heart must be working too,
For it seems to sing as the needles do.

"One and two and three and four,
Counting and narrowing o'er and o'er;
Knit and rib and seam and purl.
Clickety clackety, dear little girl!"

HE AND HIS FAMILY.

His father was a whale,
With a feather in his tail,
Who lived in the Greenland sea;
And his mother was a shark,
Who kept very dark
In the Gulf of Caribbee.
His uncles were a skate,
And a little whitebait,
And a flounder, and a chub beside;
And a lovely pickerel,
Both a beauty and a belle,
Had promised for to be his bride.
You may think these things are strange,
And they _are_ a little change
From the ordinary run, 'tis true;
But the queerest thing (to me)
Of all appeared to be,
That _he_ was a kangaroo!

EASTER-TIME.

The little flowers came through the ground,
At Easter-time, at Easter-time;
They raised their heads and looked around,
At happy Easter-time.
And every pretty bud did say,
"Good people, bless this holy day;
For Christ is risen, the angels say,
This happy Easter-time."

The scarlet lily raised its cup,
At Easter-time, at Easter-time;
The crocus to the sky looked up,
At happy Easter-time.
"We hear the song of heaven!" they say;
"Its glory shines on us to-day,
Oh! may it shine on us alway,
At happy Easter-time."

'Twas long and long and long ago,
That Easter-time, that Easter-time;
But still the scarlet lilies blow
At happy Easter-time.
And still each little flower doth say,
"Good Christians, bless this holy day;
For Christ is risen, the angels say,
At blessed Easter-time."

EASTER.

Give flowers to all the children,
This blessed Easter Day,--
Fair crocuses and snowdrops,
And tulips brave and gay;

Bright nodding daffodillies,
And purple iris tall,
And sprays of silver lilies,
The loveliest of all.

And tell them, tell the children,
How in the dark, cold earth,
The flowers have been waiting
Till spring should give them birth.

All winter long they waited,
Till the south wind's soft breath
Bade them rise up in beauty,
And bid farewell to death.

Then tell the little children
How Christ our Saviour, too,
The flower of all eternity,
Once death and darkness knew.

How, like these blossoms, silent,
Within the tomb he lay;
Then rose in light and glory,
To live in heaven alway.

So take the flowers, children,
And be ye pure as they;
And sing of Christ our Saviour,
This blessed Easter Day.

JACKY FROST.

Jacky Frost, Jacky Frost,
Came in the night;
Left the meadows that he crossed
All gleaming white.
Painted with his silver brush
Every window-pane;
Kissed the leaves and made them blush,
Blush and blush again.

Jacky Frost, Jacky Frost,
Crept around the house,
Sly as a silver fox,
Still as a mouse.
Out little Jenny came,
Blushing like a rose;
Up jumped Jacky Frost,
And pinched her little nose.

SUBTRACTION.

Six from four leaves two, Mamma,
Six from four leaves two.
Surely that is right, Mamma,--
Don't you think 'twill do?

Please don't shake your head, Mamma!
Well, it's _nearly_ right;
And what difference does it make
If it isn't _quite_?

Hark! the boys are there, Mamma,
Out upon the lawn;
If I don't go soon, Mamma,
They will all be gone.

_I_ would let _you_ go, Mamma,
Were I teaching you.
Six from four leaves two--oh dear!

_Four_ from _six_ leaves two, Mamma!
Now I have it right.
Well! upon my word, I think
I wasn't very bright.

Dear Mamma, before I go,
Here's a kiss for you.
Four from six leaves two, hurrah!
Four from six leaves two!

GRANDFATHER DEAR.

[_Written for Decoration Day._]

Jonquil and daffodil mine,
Lift me your golden-crowned heads!
Cockscomb and peony fine,
Lend me your lordliest reds!
Tying my posy up here,
I must have flowers at will;
They are for Grandfather dear,
There where he sleeps on the hill.

Grandfather dear was a soldier,
Gallant and handsome and young.
Flowers, I'll show you his picture,
Over the shelf where 'tis hung.
Yes, and his sword hangs beneath it,
The sword that he waved as he fell,
Fighting on Winchester Field,--
The field he was holding so well.

So when the year's at the sweetest,
Mother and Grandmother dear
And I, we go gathering flowers,
So sweet as they're blossoming here.
And when Grandfather looks down from heaven,
As he looks, and looks lovingly still,
He smiles as he sees his own flowers,
All shining and sweet on the hill.

GATHERING APPLES.

Down in the orchard, down in the orchard,
Under the gold-apple tree,
One little maid and two little maids
Frolic, merry and free.
Brown as a berry, red as a rose,
Sweeter maidens nobody knows.
"What are you doing, Marjorie?
Marjorie, tell to me?"
Up she lifted her curly head,
(Oh, but her cheeks were rosy-red!)
Shaking her curls right saucily,
"I'm gathering apples!" said she, said she,
"I'm gathering apples!" said she.

Down in the orchard, down in the orchard,
Under the gold-apple tree,
Softly treading, the farmer came,
Peeping so warily.
Six feet high from his head to his toes;
A jollier farmer nobody knows.
"What are you doing, farmer, pray?
Jolly old farmer, say!"
Up he caught them both in his arms;
Oh, the shrieks, the merry alarms!
Closer clasping them lovingly,
"I'm gathering apples!" said he, said he,
"I'm gathering apples!" said he.

THE BALLAD OF THE BEACH.

"Take off thy stockings, Samuel!
Now take them off, I pray;
Roll up thy trousers, Samuel,
And come with me to play.

"The ebbing tide has left the sand
All hard and smooth and white,
And we will build a goodly fort,
And have a goodly fight."

Then Samuel he pulled off
His hose of scarlet hue,
And Samuel he rolled up
His breeches darkly blue.

And hand-in-hand with Reginald,
He hied him to the beach;
Each little boy a shovel had,
And eke a pail had each.

Then down upon the shining sand
Right joyfully they sat;
And far upon the shining sand
Each tossed his broad-brimmed hat.

Then valiantly to work they went,
Like sturdy lads and true;
And there they built a stately fort,
The best that they might do.

"Now sit we down within the walls,
Which rise above our head,
And we will make us cannon-balls
Of sand, as good as lead."

Now as they worked, these little boys,
Full glad in heart and mind,
The creeping tide came back again,
To see what it could find.

The creeping tide came up the sand,
To see what it could do;
And there it found two broad-brimmed hats,
With ribbons red and blue.

And "See now!" said the creeping tide;
"These hats belong, I trow,
To Reginald and Samuel;
I saw them here but now."

And "See now!" said the creeping tide;
"What hinders me to float
These hats out to the boys' mamma,
Is sailing in a boat?"

Then up there came two little waves,
All rippling so free;
They lifted up the broad-brimmed hats,
And bore them out to sea.

The ribbons red and ribbons blue
Streamed gallantly away;
The straw did glitter in the sun,
Were never craft so gay!

The mother of these little lads
Was sailing on the sea;
And now she laughed, and now she sang,
And who so blithe as she?

And "Look!" she said; "what things be these
That dance upon the wave,
All fluttering and glittering
And sparkling so brave?

"Now row me well, my brethren, twain,
Now row me o'er the sea!
For we will chase these tiny craft,
And see what they may be."

They rowed her fast, they rowed her well,--
Too well, those gallants true;
For when she reached the broad-brimmed hats,
Right well those hats she knew.

"Alas!" she cried; "my little lads
Are drowned in the sea!"
Then down she sank in deadly swoon,
As pale as she might be.

They rowed her well, those gallants gay,
They rowed her to the land;
They lifted up that lady pale,
And bore her up the strand.

But as they bore her up the beach,
The balls began to fly,
And hit those gallants on the nose,
And hit them in the eye.

They looked here, they looked there,
To see whence this might be;
And soon they spied a stately fort,
Beside the salt, salt sea.

And straight from out the stately fort
The balls were flying free;
Each gallant rubbed his smitten nose,
And eke his eye rubbed he.

They looked within the stately fort,
To see who aimed so well;
And there was little Reginald,
And youthful Samuel.

They lifted up those little lads,
Each by his waisty-band;
And down beside that lady pale
They set them on the sand.

And first that lady waxed more pale,
And syne she waxed full red;
And syne she kissed those little boys,
But not a word she said.

Then up and spoke those gallants gay,
"You naughty little chaps,
Your poor mamma you've frightened sore,
And made her ill, perhaps.

"And if you are not shaken well,
And if you are not spanked,
It will not be your uncles' fault;
So _they_ need not be thanked."

Then up and spoke those little lads,
All mournful as they sat;
And each did cry, "Ah, woe is me!
I've lost--my nice--new--hat!"

Then up and spoke that lady fair,
"Nay, nay, my little dears,
You sha'n't be spanked! so come with me,
And wipe away your tears.

"There be more hats in Boston town,
For little boys to wear;
And as for those that you have lost,
I pray their voyage be fair.

"For since I have my little lads,
The hats may sail away
Around the world and back again,
Forever and a day!"

THE BOOTS OF A HOUSEHOLD.

[_After Mrs. Hemans._]

They came in beauty, side by side,
They filled one house with noise;
And now they're trotting far and wide,
On feet of girls and boys.

The self-same shoemaker did bend
O'er every heel and toe;
Shaped all their upper leathers fair,--
Where are those leathers now?

One pair is kicking 'gainst the bench,
The patient bench, at school;
And two are wading through the mud,
And splashing in the pool.

"The sea, the blue, lone sea," hath one.
He left it on the beach;
A merry wave came dancing up,
And bore it out of reach.

One sleeps where depths of slimy bog
Are glossed with grasses o'er;
One hasty plunge--it loosed its hold,
And sank to rise no more.

One pair--aha! I see them now,
And know them past all doubt;
For through each leather, gaping wide,
A rosy toe peeps out.

And parted thus, old, dusty, torn,
They travel far and wide,
Who in the shop, in shining rows,
Sat lately side by side.

And thus they frolic, frolic there,
And thus they caper here;
But great and small, and torn and all,
To mother's heart are dear.

[N. B.--_Also to father's purse._]

THE PALACE

It's far away under the water,
And it's far away under the sea,
There's a beautiful palace a-waiting
For my little Rosy and me.

The roof is made of coral,
And the floor is made of pearl,
And over it all the great waves fall
With a terrible tumble and whirl.

The fishes swim in at the window,
And the fishes swim out at the door,
And the lobsters and eels go dancing quadrilles
All over the beautiful floor.

There's a silver throne at on end,
And a golden throne at the other;
And on them you see, as plain as can be,
"Queen Rosy" and "Queen Mother."

And I will sit on the silver throne,
And Rosy shall sit on the gold;
And there we will stay, and frolic and play,
Until we're a thousand years old.

BUNKER HILL MONUMENT.

Do you see that stately column,
Children dear,
Lifting its gray head to heaven,
Year by year?
Telling of the battle fought,
Telling of the good work wrought,
Telling of the victory bought,
Bought so dear!

Oh! the costly blood that flowed,
Children mine!
Fast as from the purple grapes
Flows the wine!
Oh! the heroes lying dead!
Oh! the women's hearts that bled!
Oh! the bitter tears they shed,
Children mine!

Long ago the tears were dried,
Children dear!
Long ago the weepers died,
Year by year.
But the column old and gray
Tells the story day by day.
"Victory!" it seems to say.
"Victory's here!"

MAY.

Is there anything new to sing about you,
May, my dear?
Any unhackneyed thing about you,
Pray, my dear?
Anything that has not been sung
Long ago, when the world was young,
By silver throat and golden tongue?
Say, my dear!

So many have said that your eyes are blue,
May, my dear;
It must be a tiresome fact, though true,
May, my dear.
And if I, for one, my gracious Queen,
Should boldly assert that your eyes are green,
'Twould be a relief to you, I ween.
Eh, my dear?

We know, at the touch of your garment's fold,
May, my dear,
The daisies come starring with white and gold
The way, my dear;
We know that the painted blossoms all
Come starting up at your gentle call,
By dale and meadow and garden wall,
May, my dear.

We know that your birds have the sweetest tune,
May, my dear;
And lovers love best beneath your moon,
They say, my dear.
And I might add that your perfumed kiss
Is considered productive of highest bliss;
But you must be so tired of hearing this.
Eh, my dear?

No, I really don't think there's anything fresh
Or new, my dear;
For life is short, and available rhymes
Are few, my dear.
So if I say nought about vernal bowers,
And forbear to mention the sunlit showers,
I think I shall make the best use of my powers.
Don't you, my dear?

And yet--yet I cannot help loving you so,
May, my dear,
That the old words, whether I will or no,
I say, my dear.
And how you are fair, and how you are sweet,
My loving lips forever repeat,--
And is this the reason you pass so fleet?
Ah, stay, my dear!

GREGORY GRIGGS.

Gregory Griggs, Gregory Griggs,
Had forty-seven different wigs;
He wore them up, and he wore them down,
To please the people of Boston town.
He wore them east, and he wore them west,
But he never could tell which he liked the best.

A NURSERY TRAGEDY.

It was a lordly elephant,
His name, his name was Sprite;
He stood upon the nursery floor,
All ready for a fight.

He looked upon the rocking-horse,
Who proudly prancing stood:
"O rocking-horse! O shocking horse!
I'm thirsting for your blood!

"How dare you stand and look at me,
You ugly snorting thing?
Know, that of every living beast,
The elephant is king!

"And if a person looks at me,
Unless I give him leave,
He's very apt to meet his death
Too swiftly for reprieve.

"You are the most unpleasant beast
I e'er have looked on yet;
Although the stupid children here
Will make of you a pet.

"I hate your tail of waving hair!
I hate your bits of brass!
But more, oh, more than all, I hate
Your gleaming eyes of glass!

"Were you of cotton-flannel made,
As nursery beasts should be,
With eyes of good black boot-buttons,
You then might look at me.

"I might forgive your want of tusks,
Your lack of trunk forgive;
But that wild, goggling, glassy glare--
No! never, while I live!

"So get you gone, you rocking-horse!
Go to your closet-shed,
And there, behind the wood-basket,
Conceal your ugly head!"

But as the elephant thus did scold
And rage and fume and roar,
The rocking-horse rocked over him,
And crushed him to the floor.

THE UMBRELLA BRIGADE

"Pitter patter!" falls the rain
On the school-room window-pane.
Such a plashing! such a dashing!
Will it e'er be dry again?
Down the gutter rolls a flood,
And the crossing's deep in mud;
And the puddles! oh, the puddles
Are a sight to stir one's blood!

_Chorus._

But let it rain
Tree-toads and frogs,
Muskets and pitchforks,
Kittens and dogs!
Dash away! plash away!
Who is afraid?
Here we go,
The Umbrella Brigade!

Pull the boots up to the knee!
Tie the hoods on merrily!
Such a hustling! such a jostling!
Out of breath with fun are we.
Clatter, clatter, down the street,
Greeting every one we meet,
With our laughing and our chaffing,
Which the laughing drops repeat.

_Chorus._

So let it rain
Tree-toads and frogs,
Muskets and pitchforks,
Kittens and dogs!
Dash away! plash away!
Who is afraid?
Here we go,
The Umbrella Brigade!

THE PRINCESS IN SATURN AND THE RED MAN IN MARS.

There once was a princess both fair and tall,
Who did not live on this earth at all.
She lived up in Saturn,
And she was a pattern
Of every accomplishment, great and small;
The graces and virtues, she had them all.

Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, she had them pat;
And she played on the sackbut! think of that!
And she sang so sweet,
All the birds at her feet
With envy and sorrow fell down quite flat;
I've been told they fell down quite remarkably flat.

Now all the princes and all the kings
Who lived in Saturn and all his rings,
They came and knelt
Where the princess dwelt;
And they brought her all sorts of beautiful things,--
Oh! quite an assortment of elegant things.

For one king brought her a diamond hat;
And another presented a two-legged cat;
While another one said,
"When my uncle is dead,
I will give you his monkey. Be sure of that!
His talented monkey; depend upon that!"

One powerful prince, with a haughty stride,
Came forward and said, "If you'll be my bride,
You shall have the Great Bear
To powder your hair,
And the small one to lace up your boots beside,--
To lace up your boots, and to shine them beside."

But the princess sighed; and softly she said,
"Alas! not one of you all can I wed.
'Tis my positive plan
To marry a man
Who lives up in Mars, and is painted red,--
From his head to his feet, quite a violent red.

"I have often looked through my opera-glass,
And up and down I have seen him pass;
And so bright was his hue,
And so lovely to view,
I felt that in him lay my fate, alas!
I read in his red my own fate, alas!

"So now, if you love me as fond and true
As all of you think that all of you do,
You will help me to wed
My 'Study in Red.'
Oh, kings and princes, now pray you, do!
You _dear_ kings and princes, I beg of you, do!"

The kings and princes arose with a frown,
And first they looked up, and then they looked down.
Not a man of them spoke
Till he'd straightened his cloak,
And settled his wig, and adjusted his crown.

And then, "If you honestly wish," they said,
"To marry a man who is _painted red_"
(In Saturn, I ween,
All the people are green),
"We don't know that there's anything more to be said,--
Your Highness, there seems nothing more to be said."

So they called a comet, and told him to go
To the Red Man in Mars, and give him to know
That a princess in Saturn,
Of virtues the pattern,
Desired to marry him, whether or no,--
Was determined to marry him, whether or no.

Away whizzed the comet, and soon he came
To the Red Man in Mars, and called him by name.
And telling his news,
Begged him not to refuse
To send back an answer at once to the same,--
"Just you make up your mind in regard to the same!"

But the Red Man sighed, and mournfully said,
"My friend, 'tis our law that all wives _must_ be red;
And if I should be seen
With a wife who is green,
Our king would be apt at removing my head,--
Not a moment he'd lose in removing my head.

"But if the young lady (who's surely most kind),
Could in any way make up her princessly mind
To turn _herself red_,
It need hardly be said
That a lover devoted in me she would find,--
That a husband adoring in me she would find."

The comet whizzed back with the answer again,
And the kings and the princes received it with pain.
"Sure, the princess's green
Has so brilliant a sheen,
That the thought of a change is exceedingly vain,--
The idea of a change is prepost'rously vain."

But when the princess this message heard,
She said, "I see nothing in this that's absurd."
Then to blush she began;
And she blushed till the Man
In Mars was less ruddy by half, on my word,--
Less red by a generous half, on my word!

She blushed over cheek and lip and brow,
From her fair little head to her trim little toe.
And her hat and her shoe,
And her farthingale too,
They blushed just as red as herself, I vow,--
They blushed for the love of herself, I vow.

She blushed till the Northern Lights grew pale;
And the Scorpion danced on the tip of his tail;
And the Red Man came
In a fiery flame,
And cried, "My bee-yutiful bride, all hail!
My blushing, bee-yutiful bride, all hail!"

And so they were married, both he and she,
And the color of both was quite scarlet to see.
And they lived, the tale says,
To the end of their days,
As happy, as happy, as happy could be:
Sure, no other couple so happy could be.

For she loved him in Hebrew, and likewise in Greek,
And the Latin tongue also she freely did speak.
And the sackbut she'd play
Every hour in the day,
Till the Red Man in Mars would with ecstasy squeak,--
Till her cochineal husband with rapture would squeak.

But the people in Saturn were sad, I ween,
And evermore greener they grew, and more green;
And the princes and kings
Said such heartbreaking things,
In these mirth-loving pages they must not be seen:
I really must stop,
And the subject must drop,
For it won't do at all for such things to be seen.

WIGGLE AND WAGGLE AND BUBBLE AND SQUEAK.

Wiggle and Waggle and Bubble and Squeak,
They went their fortunes for to seek;
They went to sea in a chicken-coop,
And they lived on mulligatawney soup.

Wiggle and Waggle and Bubble and Squeak,
They cooked their soup every day in the week;
They cooked their soup in a chimney-pot,
For there the water was always hot.

Wiggle and Waggle and Bubble and Squeak,
Each gave the other one's nose a tweak;
They tweaked so hard that it took their breath,
And so they met an untimely death.

GRET GRAN'F'THER.

What! take Gret Gran'f'ther's musket,
Thet he kerried at Bunker Hill,
An' go a-gunnin' fer sparrers
With Solomon Judd an' Bill?

You let thet musket alone, Dan'l!
An' git down from thet air stool.
You've just time enough to hold this yarn
Afore ye go off to school.

Thar! don't ye wriggle an' twist, sonny!
The yarn's fer yer own new socks;
It's safer to hold than muskets,
With their triggers an' riggers an' locks.

A musket to shoot at sparrers!
Wal, boys is up to sech tricks!
An' thet old un, too, thet ain't ben tetched
Sence seventeen seventy-six!

But I set more store by its rusty stock,
Than the finest money could buy;
An' if you'll stan' stiddy, Dan'l,
I'll tell ye the reason why.

You never seed Gret Gran'f'ther,
But you've seed his pictur, boy,
With the smilin' mouth, an' the big brown eyes
Jes' brimmin' with life and joy.

Wal! he war'n't like thet when I seed him,
But his sperrit was lively still,
Fer all his white hair an' empty sleeve,
As it was at Bunker Hill.

An' many's the time he's told me,
Settin' here in this very cheer,
Of the fust time he shouldered thet musket,
In the Continental year.

How out in the field a-mowin',
He seed the bay'nets glance,
An' ran fer his gun with a lighter heart
Than ever he went to a dance.

Jest as he was,--in his shirt-sleeves
(Fer the day was warm and bright),
An' no hat,--but shoulderin' his musket,
Gret Gran'f'ther went to the fight.

An' thar upon Bunker hillside,
Whar the smoke hung thick an' gray,
He went a-gunnin' fer redcoats,
As you'd go fer sparrers to-day.

Hey! but the balls were whistlin'!
An' the flashes kem thick an' fast;
But whose-ever musket hed fust word,
Gret Gran'f'ther's hed the last.

Then a gunner was shot beside him,
Thet handled a six-pound gun,
An' they called fer a man to tend her;
An' Gran'f'ther said he was one.

"I ain't never fired a gun," said he,
"But I'll do my prideful best;
An' ef all you want is a man, Colonel,
Mebbe I'm as good as the rest."

An' I reckon he was! fer he stood thar,
An' fired thet six-pound gun,
Till every redcoat within his range
Hed either dropped or run.

Then all of a suddent thar kem a crack,
A flash an' a twinge an' a thrill,
An' Gran'f'ther's right arm dropped by his side,
An' hung thar, limp an' still.

Jest fer a moment, I've heard him say,
The hull world seemed to reel;
An' a hummin' sound went through his ears,
Like Gran'm'ther's spinnin'-wheel.

But he hedn't no time for faintin',
Nor he hedn't no time for pain;
"It's well I'm left-handed!" says Gran'f'ther,
An' he fired the gun again.

Bimeby, when the Colonel found him,
Arter the fight was done,
He was lyin', all black like a nigger,
An' senseless, along by his gun.

Then the boys made a kind o' stretcher,
An' jest as they laid him a-top,
"The balls was all gone," he says, "Colonel,
So I was obleeged to stop."

Yes! thet was the way Gret Gran'f'ther fit,
An' the way he lost his arm;
But he shot with his left till the land was free,
An' then he kem back to the farm.

An' he laid his musket acrost them hooks,
An' thar it's laid to this day;
An' spite o' you an' the sparrers, Dan'l,
Thar's whar it's a-goin' to stay.

The school-bell! run now, sonny boy!
An' thank ye fer standin' still.
What's thet? Ay! Hurrah fer Gret Gran'f'ther!
An' hurrah fer Bunker Hill!

DAY DREAMS.

White wings over the water,
Fluttering, fluttering over the sea,
White wings over the water,
What are you bringing to me?
A fairy prince in a golden boat,
With golden ringlets that fall and float,
A velvet cap, and a taffety cloak,
This you are bringing to me.

Fairy, fairy princekin,
Sailing, sailing hither to me,
Silk and satin and velvet,
What are you coming to see?
A little girl in a calico gown,
With hair and eyes of dusky brown,
Who sits on the wharf of the fishing-town,
Looking away to sea.

Golden, golden sunbeams,
Touch me now with your wands of gold;
Make me a beautiful princess,
Radiant to behold.

Blue and silver and ermine fine,
Diamond drops that flash and shine;
So shall I meet this prince of mine,
Fairer than may be told.

White wings over the water,
Fluttering ever farther away;
Dark clouds shrouding the sunbeams,
Sullen and cold and gray.
Back I go in my calico gown,
Back to the hut in the fishing-town.
And oh, but the night shuts darkly down
After the summer day!

THE BATTLE.

[_All the children march, each singing a verse in turn, and all
joining in the refrain._]

I am a German,
Marching, marching.
I am a German,
Tum tum tum!
Musket on shoulder,
Who could be bolder,
Tramping away at the sound of the drum.

_Chorus_. Bang! bang! bang!
Hear the muskets rattle!
Bang! bang! bang! bang!
Now we'll have a battle.
Shoot 'em through the head,
Run 'em through the body!
He who runs away
Is called a Hoddy-Doddy.[1]

[_Repeat after each verse._]

I am a Frenchman,
Marching, marching.
I am a Frenchman,
Tum tum tum!
First at the front,
I will bear the battle's brunt,
Tramping away at the sound of the drum.

I am an Englishman,
Marching, marching.
I am an Englishman,
Tum tum tum!
Let the foeman meet me!
Where's the one to beat me?
Tramping away at the sound of the drum.

I am an Irishman,
Marching, marching.
I am an Irishman,
Tum tum tum!
When the battle's ready,
Who'll be there but Paddy?
Tramping away at the sound of the drum.

[_All together._]

We are the regiment,
Marching, marching.
We are the regiment,
Tum tum tum!
Let the trumpets blow,
As we rush to meet the foe,
With a tan tan tara! at the sound of the drum.

[1] "Though you're such a Hoddy-Doddy!"--_Edward Lear._

THE STRANGE BEAST.

Four gay gallants of London town
Went out to walk on Horsley Down;
And there they saw a beast,
The like of which had ne'er been seen
In Cheapside or in Strand, I ween,
In West-side or in East.

Its legs were four, its tail was one,
So one gallant swore by the sun
It therefore was a horse;
"Nay!" cried the next, "this talk is idle.
If 'twere a horse, 'twould have a bridle,
A saddle, too, of course."

"It has a horn, you will perceive,
We'll therefore call it, by your leave,
A unicorn of pride."
The others vowed by stick and fiddle
The unicorn wore his horn in the middle,
And not upon the side.

"I call't a lion!" said the third.
"Nay!" cried the fourth, "that's _too_ absurd!
The creature has no mane.
To one who has a judgment fair,
It would appear to be a bear;
And this I will maintain."

The beast (I'll tell the secret now!
'Twas Farmer Giles's one-horned cow,
Her other horn was broken)
Advanced, meanwhile, toward the four,
And as 'twas supper-time and more,
Mooed loud, by way of token.

With shriek and scream those gallants gay
To London town fled back away,
As fast as they might fare.
And when at home they stopped to rest 'em,
A whole menagerie had chased 'em,
As every one could swear.

A GARDEN JINGLE.

Three little peas,
Three little peas,
Three little peas in a pod.
The pod it was green,
And fair to be seen,
But they wanted to go abroad.

And "Oh," said they,
"To be far away,
Out in the air so green!
To flutter and fly
Like the birds that go by!
We would envy nor king nor queen."

Three little peas,
Three little peas,
Three little peas in a pod.
My Harry he took them,
And rattled and shook them,
And fired them all abroad.

The first one fell
Right into the well,
And learned how to float and swim.
The second did fly
Into Roderick's eye,
And sorely disgusted him.

But the third little pea,
Right venturesomely,
Straight up in the air it flew;
And it stared in surprise
With both of its eyes,
To find that the air was blue.

THE BABY GOES TO BOSTON.

What does the train say?
Jiggle joggle, jiggle joggle!
What does the train say?
Jiggle joggle jee!
Will the little baby go
Riding with the locomo?
Loky moky poky stoky
Smoky choky chee!

Ting! ting! the bells ring,
Jiggle joggle, jiggle joggle!
Ting! ting! the bells ring,
Jiggle joggle jee!
Ring for joy because we go
Riding with the locomo,
Loky moky poky stoky
Smoky choky chee!

Look! how the trees run,
Jiggle joggle, jiggle joggle!
Each chasing t'other one,
Jiggle joggle jee!
Are they running for to go
Riding with the locomo?
Loky moky poky stoky
Smoky choky chee!

Over the hills now,
Jiggle joggle, jiggle joggle!
Down through the vale below,
Jiggle joggle jee!
All the cows and horses run,
Crying, "Won't you take us on,
Loky moky poky stoky
Smoky choky chee?"

So, so, the miles go,
Jiggle joggle, jiggle joggle!
Now it's fast and now it's slow,
Jiggle joggle jee!
When we're at our journey's end,
Say good-by to snorting friend,
Loky moky poky stoky
Smoky choky chee!

THE FLAG IN THE SCHOOLROOM.

[_Written for the Central Street Grammar School, Gardiner, Me.,
Dec. 20, 1880._]

Goddess Freedom, look abroad
From thy snowy mount to-night!
In all thy realm so fair and broad,
Thou shalt not see a fairer sight.
Youthful hearts, so glad and free,
Paying homage due to thee:
Youthful voices, fresh and strong,
Singing thine immortal song.

As the stars with many a ray
Deck thy banner's azure field,
So these children stand to-day,
Stars of hope upon thy shield.
May each boy, to manhood grown,
Ever, Freedom, be thine own;
Now thy nursling, frail and tender,
Then thy strength and thy defender.

In the years that are to come,
Be they dark or be they bright,
Make in these young hearts thy home,
Raise them to thy lofty height.
Keep them still, in manhood's glow,
Pure as is our northern snow;
Keep their faith, till life be done,
Bright as is our northern sun!

JOHNNY JUMP-UP.

Who wakes earliest in the morn?
Sure you'll think it is the lark,
Who before the daylight's born,
Rises singing through the dark.

But though sweet the lark may carol,
Early to his mate may call,
Johnny Jump-up, Johnny Jump-up,
Carols loud before them all.

Who wakes latest in the night
When the sun is gone to bed,
When each tiny blossom bright
Nods in sleep its pretty head?

Other babies all are sleeping,
Mother's eyelids droop and fall.
Johnny Jump-up, Johnny Jump-up,
Waketh later than them all.

Johnny's eyes are very lovely,
Johnny's eyes are very blue;
But one hardly cares to see them
Snap and dance the whole night through.

Johnny's laugh is clear and ringing,
Tinkling like a silver bell;
But a child should _not_ be singing
Morning, noon, and night as well.

Johnny Jump-up, Johnny Jump-up,
Rules us with his tiny hand;
Lord and master, king and kaiser,
In the realm of Nurseryland.

Take your pleasure without measure;
Laugh and crow, and whoop and call!
Johnny Jump-up, Johnny Jump-up,
We're your faithful servants all!

THE OUTLANDISHMAN.

The Outlandishman came o'er the sea, o'er the sea,
In a skipaway flipaway boat;
And who so merry, so merry as he,
As soon as he got afloat?

He sat on the poop to gobble his soup
With a spoon, with a spoon of the best;
And part of his fast he broke on the mast,
And smashed on the bowsprit the rest.

He lowered his line in the deep, in the deep,
And invited the fishlikins up;
Then he hung them in rows in front of his nose,
And wished it were time to sup.

Then the Bottlegreen Bovis arose, arose,
And asked was he game for a fight;
But he seized on the anchor and threw it with rancor,
And the foe-fish retired from sight.

He danced on the deck with never a check
Till the clock, till the clock struck nine.
And his eyes did wink, and he sang "tink a tink!"
In the mowl of the merry moonshine.

Lo! all of these things the Outlandishman did,
As he sailed, as he sailed on the sea.
Yea, more! yea, more! both sorry and sore,
But you never shall learn them from me.

A SLEIGH-RIDE.

Ting! ring! the sleigh-bells jingle
Merrily over the frozen snow.
Cheeks a-glow and ears a-tingle,
Tumble in, children, here we go!

Ting! ring! the sleigh-bells jingle!
Get along, Dobbin! go along, Jack!
Bells and voices merrily mingle,
Swift we fly as an arrow's track.

Ting! ring! the sleigh-bells jingle!
Nose cold, Tommy? Here, rub it with snow!
Toes ache, Ned? Just kick till they tingle,
Thump! thump! thump! on the dasher, so!

Ting! ring! the sleigh-bells jingle!
Snow-wreaths fly like a snow-sea's foam.
Sweet bells, sweet laugh, hark! how they mingle!
Tumble out, children, here we're at home!

The Little Gnome

Once there lived a little gnome
Who had made his little home
Right down in the middle of the earth, earth, earth.
He was full of fun and frolic,
But his wife was melancholic,
And he never could divert her into mirth, mirth, mirth.

He had tried her with a monkey
And a parrot and a donkey,
And a pig that squealed whene'er he pulled its tail, tail, tail.
But though he laughed himself
Into fits, the jolly elf,
Still his wifey's melancholy did not fail, fail, fail.

"I will hie me," said the gnome,
"From my worthy earthy home;
I will go among the dwellings of the men, men, men.
_Something_ funny there must be,
That will make her say 'He, he!'
I will find it and will bring it her again, 'gain, 'gain."

So he travelled here and there,
And he saw the Blinking Bear,
And the Pattypol whose eyes are in his tail, tail, tail.
And he saw the Linking Gloon,
Who was playing the bassoon,
And the Octopus a-waltzing with the whale, whale, whale.

He saw the Chingo Chee,
And a lovely sight was he,
With a ringlet and a ribbon on his nose, nose, nose,
And the Baggle, and the Wogg,
And the Cantilunar Dog,
Who was throwing cotton-flannel at his foes, foes, foes.

All these the little gnome
Transported to his home,
And set them down before his weeping wife, wife, wife;
But she only cried and cried,
And she sobbywobbed and sighed,
Till she really was in danger of her life, life, life.

Then the gnome was in despair,
And he tore his purple hair,
And he sat him down in sorrow on a stone, stone, stone.
"I, too," he said, "will cry,
Till I tumble down and die,
For I've had enough of laughing all alone, 'lone, 'lone."

His tears they flowed away,
Like a rivulet at play,
With a bubble, gubble, rubble, o'er the ground, ground, ground.
But when this his wifey saw,
She loudly cried "Haw, haw!
Here at last is something funny you have found, found, found."

She laughed, "Ho, ho! he, he!"
And she chuckled loud with glee,
And she wiped away her little husband's tears, tears, tears.
And since then, through wind and weather,
They have said "He, he!" together,
For several hundred thousand merry years, years, years.

THE LITTLE DUTCHESS

Once there lived a little Dutchess,
Just beside the Zuyder Zee;
Short and stout and roly-poly,
As a Dutchess ought to be.

She had pigs and she had poultry,
She had lands and she had gold;
And she loved the Burgomaster,--
Loved him more than can be told.

"Surly, burly Burgomaster,
Will you have me for your love?
You shall be my pouter-pigeon,
I will be your turtle-dove.

"You shall have my China porkers,
You shall have each Dorking hen;
Take them with your loving Dutchess,
Oh, you Dutchiest of men!"

Loudly laughed the Burgomaster,
"Naught I care for Dorking fowls;
Naught for pig, unless 'tis roasted,
And on that my doctor scowls.

"Frumpy, stumpy little Dutchess,
I do not incline to wed.
Keep your pigs and keep your poultry!
I will take your gold instead.

"I will take your shining florins,
I will take your fields' rich hoard;
You may go and tend your piggies
Till your spirits be restored."

Loudly wept the little Dutchess,
Tending sad each China pig;
Loudly laughed the Burgomaster
'Neath his merry periwig.

Till the Dutchy people, angry
Conduct such as this to see,
Took and plumped the pouter-pigeon
Right into the Zuyder Zee.

* * * * *

BOOKS BY LAURA E. RICHARDS

THE GOLDEN WINDOWS. A Book of Fables for Old and Young

_Illustrated Edition._ With five full-page illustrations and text decorations by Arthur E. Becher and Julia Ward Richards. 12mo. Full gilt. $1.50.

_Popular Edition._ With frontispiece and text decorations. 16mo. $1.00.

Simply written, and exquisitely conceived with a little golden
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Fitly named, for the book is a window into a realm as beautiful
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THE SILVER CROWN. Another Book of Fables for Old and Young

With ornamental initials and title-page by Julia Ward Shaw. 12mo. Decorated cloth, gilt top. $1.25.

Forty-five simply written fables each with its own delightful
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Replete with exquisite feeling and lovely in the telling. No
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THE JOYOUS STORY OF TOTO

Illustrated by E. H. Garrett. 12mo. Cloth. $1.00.

Toto is a little boy who lives with his blind grandmother on the edge of a wood. Toto makes friends with all the wood creatures, from the bear to the squirrel, and they frequently come to the house to entertain the grandmother with their conversation. Told in a droll way which is heartily enjoyed by the children.

TOTO'S MERRY WINTER

Fully illustrated. 12mo. Cloth. $1.00.

Toto's friends of the wood consent to spend the winter with him at the cottage. Their adventures and their stories (for they delight to tell stories when gathered before the fire) make a volume full of treasures for young folks.

IN MY NURSERY. A Book of Rhymes for Young Folks

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LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, Publishers 34 BEACON STREET :: :: :: :: :: BOSTON, MASS.