Chapter L: M N R (1)

LIGHTLY flowing LIQUIDS, we,--
Tethered with our brothers.
Make we music, melody,
More than all the others;
Lulling, mellowy, nimble, rare,
Reveling in rhythm,
Running here and everywhere,
Make me merry with 'em.

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_THE BEARS._

Wild bears are found all over,
From Northern lands to South,
But largest, strongest, where 'tis cold
And fiercest farthest North.

All bears are fond of honey,
Of berries, too, and roots;
They hug or squeeze their prey to death,
As this their nature suits.

They mate in June-y weather;
Their little ones are cubs;
They sadly mourn when mates are killed,
You'd almost hear their sobs.

They'll try to feed a cub
That's lying cold and dead,
And will not flee, but stand and take
The fatal knife instead.

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They sleep through winter-time,
But prowl in wildest storms,
With hope to find some creature killed,
Or struck with death's alarms.

The bears are white, or black,
Or brown or grizzly gray,
The white 'mong polar snows are found,
Where half the year is day.

Their fur is used for robes,
For coats, sometimes a muff,--
Their meat is prized by some as food,
While some would call it "stuff."

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They nimbly climb a tree,
But "back down," for their frame
Is made so lungs would forward press,
If they head-foremost, came.

* * * * *

_THE BEAR A BLESSING._

To people of Kamtschatka,
The bear a blessing proves;
His skin forms beds and coverlets,
And bonnets, shoes, and gloves.

His flesh and fat are dainties,
And of his intestine,
Is made a mask for warding off
The glare of Sun in Spring.

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'Tis also used for windows,
As substitute for glass;
Of shoulder-blade a tool is made,
That's used for cutting grass.

Norwegians think the Bear is
More sensible than men;
While Laplands call him "Dog of God,"
And dare not him offend.

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_FRUITS_

The fruits of the orchard and garden
Are beautiful, luscious and good,
Partake of them freely, dear children,
But eat them at meals with your food.

{184}

_THE RACCOON._

Come, child, and see our pet Raccoon,--
The Raccoons live in the woods, you know;
But ours was caught,
And caged, and brought
From old Virginia, long ago.

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Oh, no, you need not be afraid.
See, he is fastened with a chain;
For ropes enough
He has gnawed off,
And he is hard to catch again.

He e'en will climb this ten-foot fence,
And, careless where his feet may strike,
He tumbles, bang!
And there will hang,
His rope being caught by vine or spike.

And once the rascal ran away;
Was gone for days, and maybe weeks;
When children came,
And charging blame,
Said, "Your Raccoon has caught our chicks."

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"He's on our roof a-making mouth,
And chatters when we would go near.
We wish you'd come
and take time home,
So that our chick need not fear."

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So now he's chained; yet up he'll climb
The stake to which he's fastened tight,
And mutter low,
So pleading, Oh!
'T would make you sorry for him, quite.

Just see his nose, so pointed, sharp,--
His ears as keen as keen can be,--
His eyes so bright,
So full of light,
And see him leap right merrily!

His fur, you see, is yellowish gray,--
And he is nearly two feet long;
He lives on roots,
And nuts and fruits,
When he's his native woods among.

But here we give him bread and milk;
He never eats like dogs or lambs,
But takes it up
From out the cup
With his fore-foot, as we use hands.

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You'd laugh to see him, I am sure;
Of strawberries, too, he's very fond;
Will poke around
Till he has found
Each one among the hulls out-thrown.

Then, too, he's fond of nice clean clothes,
Will spring for sheet hung out to dry;
And children dressed
In very best,
Are sure to please his dainty eye.

No matter where his feet have been,
He'll spring and plant them, little pest,
On something white,
And then will fight
To hold, and hide it in his nest.

* * * * *

{189}

You've "come again to see our Coon"?
Well, he is gone; he plagued us so,
We sent the "Rac"
To Central Park,
Where you can see him when you go.

Oh yes, they're glad to get him, there;
They have no clothes hung out to dry;
And children aye
Must stand away,
For there a keeper's always nigh.

* * * * *

A "Yes" and "No" are common, hard,
But "yes'm," "no-sir," choice;--
Let none but sweet and gentle words
Flow from your gift of voice.

{190}

_THE BANK-SWALLOWS._

In a village of Bank-Swallows,
You will find so many a nest,
"That you scarce can tell their number
Nor which one of them is best."

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In the sand-hill, see the openings,
Round or oval odd-shaped, some,
Size and form depending often,
On how loose the sand become.

When with their short bills they pecked it,
Clinging fast with claws the while,
Till they made an open door-way
Suiting them in size and style.

Once within, they peck and peck it,--
Sometimes quite a yard or more,
While the nest is snugly builded,
Farthest from the outer door.

But, so wise are they, this archway
From the entrance to the nest,
Is inclining ever upward,
That no rain within may rest.

So the pink-white eggs are laid there,
Safe from harm, till baby-birds
Chirrup forth to take their places,
'Mongst the self-sustaining herds.

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Smallest of the swallow species,
Homeliest, too, yet favorites dear,
For their graceful, airy movements,
And their simple, social cheer.

Found are they from North to South-land,
Known of every tribe and race;--
Swift in flight, yet swinging, swaying,
Skimming low from place to place.

Parent-birds care less for young ones,
Than do other swallow-kind;--
Push them off half-fledged and timid,
Each his food and home to find.

Thus they, many a time, fall prey to
Hawks and crows, their enemies;--
Even the nest sometimes is entered
By the snakes and fleas and flies.

Swallows migrate in the Winter,
From the cold to warmer climes,
Flying back as Spring approaches,
To the haunts of former times.

{193}

"Ne'er one swallow makes a Summer,"
Is a saying everywhere;--
But when swallows come in myriads,
Blessed Summer-time is here.

{194}

_THE MOCKING-BIRD._

The New World boasts the Mocking-bird
And whether caged or free,
His wondrous voice pours forth in songs
Of rarest melody.

His notes swell out and die away,
As if a joyous soul
Were wrought to highest ecstacy,
All music to control.

{195}

His native notes are bold and full,
And then he'll imitate,
Till it would seem the feathered tribe
Were all arrayed in state.

He'll whistle for the dog or cat,
Will squeak like chicken, hurt,
And cluck and crow and bark and mew,
So comical and curt.

While blue-birds warble, swallows scream,
Or hens will cackle clear.
In robin's song, the whip-poor-will
Pours forth his plaint so near.

{196}

Canaries, hang-birds, nightingales,
He echoes loud and long;
While they stand silent, mortified,
He triumphs in his song.

_THE BUSY BEES._

Why do the little busy bees
So dearly love their queen,
And wait upon and pay respect,
With watchful care and mien?

{197}

Because the queen lays all the eggs,
And mothers all the young,
While every father-bee that's hatched
Is nothing but a drone.

The working bees might all be queens,
If cared for and well-fed
When they are in the larvae state,
But they're half-starved instead,--

While those intended for young queens
Are fattened overmuch,
And nursed and petted every hour,
That they full growth may reach.

For every different kind of egg
That makes the different bees,
A different kind of cell is made,
The queen directing these.

For drones or males, six-sided cells,
Quite neat, and smooth, and nice;
For working-bees a smaller cell,
Uncouth, and rough, and coarse;

{198}

While those for queens are large and free,
And fashioned fine with care,
And lined with softest, silken shreds
So daintily they fare.

The queen-bee lays the worker-eggs,
A dozen days, I ween,
And then the drones as many more,
Then workers, then the queen.

Eggs, two or three, and sometimes four
Are laid in worker-cell;
While drones and queens have each but one,
As oft is proven well.

The bluish eggs so close and warm,
Hatch out with three days passed; {199}
When larvae, white, as little worms,
Are watched and fed and nursed.

These larvae, when some six days old,
Close in their cells are shut,
And there at once begin to weave
A silken web about.

They turn and twist till all around
Themselves 'tis woven quite,
And then they rest for twenty days,--
'Tis such a pretty sight.

The small cocoons of working-bees,
The larger ones of drones,
The large and plump and perfect ones
Of all the coming queens.

{200}

In twenty days they now burst forth,
Equipped from tip to toe,
The working-bees and drones, I mean,
For queens come forth more slow.

The queen cocoons ope from behind,
And I will tell you why,
'Tis that the reigning queen may sting
The others till they die.

If mother queen leads off a swarm,
A young queen they release,
And she may take another swarm,
And leave the hive in peace.

Another queen is then let out,
Perhaps a third and fourth,
As many as can raise a swarm,
To follow them, not loath;

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But when no more can swarm and go,
Because not bees enough,
As I have said, the reigning queen
Stings all the rest to death.

For in each hive and everywhere,
One queen alone will reign,
And any interloper meets
With sure and sharp disdain.

Of workers, some are strong to fly,
While some are weak and small,
Unfitted quite, for load or flight,
Or outside work at all.

These last complete the larvae-cells,
And nurse and feed the young;
They mix the bee-bread, cleanse the hive,
And care for every drone.

All bees have stings except the drones,
And these, when Autumn nears,
Are stung to death with furious wrath,
As by the book appears.

{202}

And now I hope you children all,
Will use your wondrous power
To "gather honey all the day,
From every opening flower."

{203}

BBB R YYY B U YY

[Footnote: Bees are wises; Be you wise.]

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{205}

_HONEY-SWEET._

"Ah, but how do bees make honey?"
Now the children, eager, ask;
And we'll try to give them answer,
If we're able for the task.

See, the under-lip is lengthened,
Like a trunk or proboscis,
Ending by a kind of button,
Fringed with tiny moving hairs.

All along its length, too, fringes,
Just the same, are growing forth;
And by means of these, the honey
Is conveyed from flowers to mouth.

Then the bee has two small stomachs,
In the first of which is stored
All the honey it can gather,
But, when home, 'tis quick out-poured.

{206}

Bees have six legs; and in hindmost,
There are baskets found, or bags,
Into which the pollen gathered,
Is brushed off by the other legs.

And this pollen, for the bee-bread
And as food for young, they use,
Mixed with honey and with water,--
Swallowed and disgorged like juice

By the nurses, who digest it
Partly, for the larvae-food,
Taking care that each shall have it,
Just according to the brood.

{207}

Now we'll watch and see them working;
See them brush off pollen-dust;
See them, too, disgorge the honey,
Into cells the sweetness thrust.

Children, with your useful fingers,
Hands and arms and feet and head,
Do not let the bees surpass you,
Making honey, nay, nor bread.

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_WHAT THEY SAY._

Those creatures that chew the cud,
The "RUMINANTS" we call,
From "Rumen," or the stomach-pouch,
In which their food doth fall.

A "SPECIES" is a kind
Of animals or plants;--
Each species has a different name,
And differing traits and wants,--

And species may unite
To form a RACE we know,
For _race_ from _root_ is always drawn,
And _roots_ must spread and grow.

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That men and women are
The race most choice and fine,
We plainly see, and sometimes call,
The _Human Race Divine_.

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The noble Horse neighs out,
"I am the race _Equine_,
And nearest seem, and dearest to
The 'human race, divine.'"

The Ox and Cow l-o-o, l-o-o,
"We are the race _Bovine_;
And we most useful are, unto
The 'human race, divine.'"

{211}

The Ass and Mule bray out,
"Our race is_ Assinine_,
And very like us seem some of
The 'human race, divine.'"

The Dog bow-wows as race
_Canine, Canine, Canine_; {212}
While Tigers, Cats and Catamounts,
G-r-o-w-l, growl, as race _Feline_.

The Lion, king of beasts
(Feline), roars "_Leonine_;"--
The Lamb that's to lie down with him,
Ba-a, ba-as for race _Ovine_.

{213}

Fishes in lakes or seas
or rivers Sport _Piscine_;
While birds in air or cages close,
Sing, "race _Avine, Avine_."

All bees in hives or wild,
Hum out the race _Apine_; {214}
And reptiles all rejoicing crawl
In race _Reptilian_.

* * * * *

I've a name that's made up of three letters alone,--
That reads backwards and forwards the same;
I speak without sound,--yes, I talk without tongue.
And to beauty I lay the first claim.

* * * * *

A word of three syllables, children, now find,
That holds the whole twenty-six letters combined. [1]

The B ing m t, John put some: [2]

stand take to taking
----- ---- -- ------ [3]
I you throw my

[Footnote 1: Alphabet]

[Footnote 2: The grate being empty, John put some coal on.]

[Footnote 3: I understand you undertake to overthrow my undertaking.]

{215}

_BRITAIN'S RULERS_.

Old Britain was under the Romans
From fifty-five years before Christ (55 B. C.)
To four hundred fifty-five (455 A. D.)
Then her eight States on home-rule insist.

{216}

For many a year now they wrangle,
Ah! yes, for quite three seventy-two,
Being ruled now by this king, now that one,
As each might the former o'erthrow.

But ever since eight-twenty-seven (827),
Britain's rulers have reigned by descent,
From Egbert, first "Monarch of England,"
To Victoria, daughter of Kent.

A score reigned and fell.--Second Harold
In ten-sixty-six (1066), proud; usurps,
But soon in fierce battle is conquered
By William of Normandy's troops.

Then came William the Conqueror, a Norman,
Then William the Second, his son;
Then Henry and Stephen and Henry,
Then Richard (Coeur de Lion), and John.

Next Henry the Third, and First Edward,
Edward Second and Third, Richard, two (II).
Henrys Fourth, Fifth and Sixth, and Fourth Edward
Fifth Edward,--Third Richard, they rue.

Henry Seventh and Eighth, and Sixth Edward,
Then Mary, Bess, James, and Charles First,--
Eleven years then with no monarch;
Second Charles, Second James, not the worst.

{217}

Then William and Mary, then Anne,
Four Georges, Fourth William, until
Came Victoria, long live her queenship,
For she wields her proud scepter with skill.

{218}

_OUR LAND_.

A ship sailed over the blue, salt sea,
For a man, Columbus called,
Had thought that the world was round, and he
Of the old ideas had palled.

So, in fourteen hundred and ninety-two,
He sailed across from Spain,
And found our continent so new--
The "land beyond the main."

{219}

But jealousies and rivalries
And bickerings begun,
And Christopher Columbus now
With grief was overborne.

Americus Vespucius soon
Our shores came sailing round,
And stole the naming of the land
Columbus sought and found;

While he, Columbus, lay in chains,
And died in sore distress;
Yet won for us who tread his land,
A lasting blessedness.

* * * * *

Young I-know is saucy and pert,
And thinks himself wondrously wise;
But I-know, the second, steps in all so curt,
And you'd think that each might lose his eyes.

{220}

_SIGNS OF THE ZODIAC_.

THE annual path of the Sun,
The_ Ecliptic_ is called, as we see,--
And a belt, eight degrees, on each side,
The _Zodiac_ ever will be.

The principal planets all seem
To move in the zodiac lines,
While the belt, of itself, is cut up
Into twelve equal parts, called the _Signs_.

And these signs were first named, we are told,
From their fancied resemblance to beasts,
Which astronomers thought they could see
In the stars, from the West to the East.

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There is Aries, the Ram, then the Bull,
Which is Taurus,--then Gemini, Twins;
Then Cancer, a Crab and then Leo,
A Lion, and Virgo, Virgin.

Next Libra, the Balance or Scales,
And Scorpio, a Scorpion (with sting),--
Sagittarius, the Archer or Arrow,--
Capricornus, a Goat's horn we bring.

{222}

Aquarius, the Bearer of Water,--
And Pisces, or Fish from the sea,--
All together make twelve, and a wonder
It is, that these fancies should be.

{223}

_GRAPHO_.

Children, you ought to know
That _Grapho_ can but mean
To picture out, or tell about,
Some object or some thing.

Now _Geo_ means the _earth_;
And so Geography
Means picturing out or telling about
This earth of ours, you see.

As _Phono_ means a _sound_,
Phonography so terse,
Just pictures out or tells about
The sounds of the human voice.

{224}

As _Photo_ means the _light_,
Photography must mean
A picturing of the light that falls
Upon a thing, I ween.

Now _Astro_ means the _stars_;
And hence Astrography
Means to describe or tell about
The stars we all may see.

And then Astronomy
Tells all the various laws
That govern or relate to stars;
Of their motions tells the cause.

Now _Bios_ means a _life_;
And so Biography
Means writing out the life of one,
Which we may often see.

_Zoos_ means _animal_;
And your Zoography
Describes the animals that live
On land or in the sea.

{225}

Then there's Stenography,
A writing narrow, small,
Or, as so many call it now,
"Short-hand," which tells it all.

And then Xylography--
Engraving upon wood;
And Crystallography as well,
That tells of crystals good.

But these are _ographies_
Enough for now, you think;
Yet when you're older, wiser grown,
You many more will link.

{226}

_THE STOP FAMILY_.

"I'm a dot with a quirk," whispers little Miss Comma,
"And you'll please not to pause long for me."
"I'm a dot over Comma," says Miss Semicolon,
"And you'll pause twice as long where I be."

"I am dot over dot," Master Colon speaks out,
"You'll pause longer for me than they say:"
"I am one dot alone," Period says with a tone
That means: "Stop when you see me obey!"

{227}

"I'm a hook over dot," says Dame Interrogation,
"I ask questions; but answer? O, nay!"
"I'm a splash over dot," says old Sir Exclamation;
"I show wonder, delight, or dismay!"

"I'm a line east and west," says Miss Dash, "and I'm best
At changing of subjects, you know."--
"I am Dash's small sister," says Hyphen, and kissed her;
"I unite words, or syl-la-bles, so."

Then said Marks of Parenthesis (carefully curved),
"We inclose what you well may omit;
But we're often displaced by Miss Dash (in your haste),
Whom you sadly mistake for a wit."

Now Apostrophe, Caret, Quotation, exclaimed:
"We are commas and hyphens combined;
We leave out, or put in, or reveal to your kin
What you've said, when their backs you're behind."

Then Star, Daggers, Parallels, Paragraph too,
Started up, staring wildly about, {228}
With "We rise to explain on the margin, 'tis plain,
Or to point a new paragraph out."

Of the whole Punctuation, each knew his own station.
Each did his own duty, we see;
If we do ours as well, and of their's, too, can tell,
We shall soon learn good readers to be.

* * * * *

"All is not gold that glitters;"
Yet think not, children mine,
That all that glitters is not gold;
The true must ring and shine.

{229}

_LITTLE MISCHIEF_.

Little Master Mischief
Lives in Nellie's eye,
Sitting in the corner,
Peeping out so sly;
Now he's crossed the snow-ground
And in chamber blue,
Thinking he is hidden,
Peek-a-boos at you.

Now he drops the curtain,
Sure that he is hid,
But you see him dancing
Even on the lid.
Now, the curtains lifting,
You can see he's crept
To the inner chamber,
Where the love-light slept.

Watching now his moment
He pops out, and see,
Mamma's spools and thimble
Quickly disagree.

{230}

{231}

Shall we punish Mischief?
Better teach the child
How to hold and lead him,
Running now so wild.

Would she like her playthings
Scattered here and there,
When she had arranged them?
Would she think it fair?
Would she like her puzzle
Portions of it, lost?
Would she like her dishes
Everywhere uptossed?
Would she like her apron
With a missing string,
Mamma hunting, meanwhile,
Thread and everything?

Nellie, learn the lesson:
Be to others true,
Always do as you would
Have them do to you.

{232}

This the dear Lord's precept,--
This the Golden Rule,--
This the highest lesson
In our Nellie's school.

* * * * *

Be gentle and loving,
Be kind and polite;
Be thoughtful for others,
Be sure and do right.

{233}

_GRANDMA'S CANARY._

Grandma loves her birdy,
And when he gaily sings,
She will laugh and chat with him,
At which he hops and springs.

Fearing though, that birdy
Might not understand,
Grandma from the toy-shop,
Brought a whistle grand.

Tuning now the whistle,
To his sweet bird-note,
He in singing back to her,
Nearly burst his throat,

{234}

Birdy, free outflying,
Often comes to light
On Grandma's tip-of-finger
Or chair-back, pretty sight!

From her hand she feeds him,
And he oft will take
From her mouth the sugar,
With a merry shake.

Yester-morn the window
Being open wide,
Birdy thought it brighter
On the outer side.

Grandma mourning sadly,
Shed of tears a few,
Then she prayed the Father,
"Show me what to do."

Soon she set his cage out
On the window-sill,
Saying, "Birdy'll come now,
Oh, I'm sure he will!"

{235}

Then she, hopeful, praying,
"Bring my birdy home,"
Took the sweet bird-whistle,
Playing "Birdy, come."

And the birdy hearing,
Quickly came and lit
On the cage, and shortly
Flitted into it.

Thankful now was Grandma,
To the dear Lord, who,
Listening to her prayer
Taught her what to do.

{236}

_A BABY'S FAITH_.

Our Maude was dancing with her doll,
In childhood's chattering glee;
A brimming bucket standing by,
The maiden failed to see,
And skipping, tripped; the bucket tipped;
The water, cool and clear, {237}
Was rudely swayed, but, undismayed,
And quickly kneeling near,
Both little hands she spread above
The water's merry surge.
"And what's she doing there," we ask?
No answer, till we urge,
And then, "Why mamma, don't you know
God stilled the waves so wild,
With His great hand? And so I thought,
Although I'm but a child,
That I might still these little waves
With my two hands so small;
And mamma, see, they're quiet now!
But where's my baby-doll?"

* * * * *

_HEALTH AND HAPPINESS_.

Mamma keeps her children
In the happiest mood
When she feeds them only
With the simplest food.
Viands clog and pain them,
Then they fret and cry,
And then when she whips them,
Everything's awry.

{238}

_THE MEADOW QUAILS_.

Over in the meadow where the men make hay,
In an elm-tree shadow on a bright summer day,
Two speckled quails ponder as to what will be best,
Should the stout mower blunder on their pretty home-nest.

But a cloud in a minute from her great white bed
Threw a big silver bonnet o'er the sun's golden head
And the quails, though they wondered would their home be beset,
Cried aloud, and it thundered: "More wet! more wet!"

{239}

Then the great sturdy yeoman coming close to the nest,
With the heart of a true man beating soft in his breast,
Saw the parent-quails watching, with what fear who can tell?
Saw the baby-quails hatching, hardly out of the shell.

And who knows but he thought of his own precious baby
His dear little daughter in her mother's arms, maybe?
For he quickly made over that portion of meadow
With the sweetest of clover, and the softest of shadow.

To the quails who all summer lived alongside the lane,
Ever warning the farmer of the forth-coming rain;
For long ere it thundered and I hear the cry yet
They would call as they wandered, "More wet! More wet!"

* * * * *

DIDN'T-THINK is a heedless lad
And never takes the prize:
Remember-well wins every time.
For he is quick and wise.

{240}

_THE LITTLE HOUSEWIFE_.

This little girl knows how to make
A batch of bread, or loaf of cake;
She helps to cook potatoes, beets,
To boil or bake the fish and meats.
She knows to sweep and make a bed,
Can hem a handkerchief for Ned;
In short, a little housewife she,
As busy as the busy bee.

{241}

Let every girl learn how to do
All things that help to make life true;
That serve to keep the home-hearth bright;
That o'er life's burdens throw a light.
And then if she may never need
Herself to labor, she may lead
Her household in the better way,
That eft shall bring a brighter day.

The boys, too, let them learn to know
Of household duties, and to sew;
For oft a button, oft a rip,
By sewing they may save a "fip."
Yes, let them know that "woman's work"
With many a turn and many a quirk,
Is not "a play with straws," as some.
Would seem to think. 'Tis making home.

{242}

_MOTHER-LOVE_.

"AR-G-O-O, ar-g-o-o," is the song of songs,
To the loving mother's ear;
"Ar-g-o-o, ar-g-o-o," these baby notes
Fill all the house with cheer.

The baby's laugh, the baby's coo.
The baby's every move,
Is music, joy, and grace to her,
Who is rich in mother-love.

{243}

The precious pearl that is first unlocked
By Nature's mystic key,
From out the baby's jewel-box,
Makes mamma's jubilee.

The day of baby's mastership
To raise himself upright,
An era marks along the way,
By mother-love made light.

Her mother-voice lures on his step,
Her care protects from harm;
While deeper into her heart he glides,
With every opening charm.

And when he "ma-ma" sweetly says,
Or "pa-pa," in her breast
His throne is fixed forevermore,
This prince of babes confessed.

When threads of thought begin to spin,
And webs of mind to weave,
When kindling soul looks out at eyes
That know not to deceive,--

The mother's holiest task to keep
Her darling pure and true;
Her constant care, her watchful prayer,
Alone can guide him through

{244}

The maze his youthful feet must tread,
And if perchance he fall,
Her baby still in him she sees,
Her love can cover it all.

O, the wondrous love the baby brings,
Is far beyond our ken!
We only know that the fount once oped,
Can never be dry again.

* * * * *

_IT SNOWS! IT SNOWS!_

It snows! yes, it snows! and the children are wild,
At thought of the fun in the snow-drifts up-piled;
The boy with his first new boots is in sight,
And the wee baby-girl, with her mittens so bright.
They are tramping and tossing the snow as they run,
And laughing and shouting, so brimful of fun;
While the ten-year-old twins, in a somersault mood,
Have measured their length from the barn to the wood.
A dozen times, yes, or it may be a score,
Till their cheeks are as red as the roses, and more;
Then the elfin of twelve and the boy of fifteen,
Are pelting each other with snowballs so keen,
That we, who are older, forget to be staid, {245}
And shout, each with each, as the youngsters, arrayed
In feathery garments, press on or retreat,
Determined to win, nor acknowledge defeat,
And the snow tumbles down with such beauty and grace
That the air seems filled up with soft, bridal-veil lace,
Through whose meshes the sunbeams shall kiss Mother Earth,
Till the buds and the blossoms are bred into birth.
But the children, at length, tired out with their play,
And stamping the snow from their feet by the way,
Come slipping and stumbling and scrambling along,
While the big brother catching the baby-girl's song,
"Oh, my finders are told!" gives her now a gay toss,
The golden hair streaming like distaff of floss;
And so cheery the group that is ranged round the board,
That for snow, blessed snow! we all thank the good Lord.

{246}

{247}

AN OLD SAW.

"If you'll break the first brake
And will kill the first snake,
You'll be sure to go through
With what you undertake."

Thus our Grandma, quaint but queenly,
Taught us grand-bairns one by one;
And the lesson relished keenly
Filled each spring-time full of fun.

For the watchful eyes were eager,
And the flying feet must roam
Till they every nook beleaguer
Round the old ancestral home.

* * * * *

But 'twas not the broken brakelet
That wrought good for after years;
Not the killing of the snakelet,
But the conquering of fears,

And the patient, wistful watching,
Educating thought and eye,
Made the brakelet and the snakelet
Types of weal for bye and bye.

{248}

_THE DANDELION BLOSSOM._

In the spring when the grass
Had sprung up in the pass,
And the meadows with velvet were green,
We children would tease,
"O, dear mother, please
Let us doff shoes and stockings,
(Ah! naught gave us shockings),
And barefooted run o'er the leas,
Aye, barefooted run o'er the leas."

And mother, so wise,
Looking into our eyes,-- {249}
"There's a snowdrift down under the hill!
But when you will bring me,
Yes, when you will fling me
A dandelion blossom
To wear on my bosom
You may barefooted run as you will,
Aye, barefooted run as you will."

So for "guineas of gold,"
O'er the dandelion-wold,
We hunted afar and anear;
And with shouts of delight
We all greeted the sight
Of the fully-blown flower
Presaging the shower
Of bright blossoms that brought us such cheer,
Aye, the blossoms that brought us such cheer.

* * * * *

FEAR naught save that which slimes thee o'er
With falsity or fraud:--
Let thine own soul stand clean and white
Before its maker, God.

{250}

_SUNSHINE._

The sun shines on forever
Though clouds may hide his face;
His brightness and his glory
The whole wide world may trace
For clouds are naught but vapor
Whose fleecy veils unfold,
And softest silver lining
We then with joy behold.

* * * * *

_OUR ETHEL._

Our Ethel was not always,
As people may have thought,
A goody-goody little girl
Who never mischief wrought.

Oh, no, our darling Ethel,
The precious little woman,
Although so very dear to us,
Was most intensely human.

She waded into mischief
Like ducklets into water,
And kept us ever on the watch
With, "Daughter!" "Oh, my Daughter!"

{251}

She took the ribbon from her hair
The kitten to bedeck,
Then brought its tail between its legs
And tied it tail and neck.

She took her dolly to the pump
And pinned it on the spout,
And then with all her might and main
She pumped the water out.

"Oh, little Haynth tho' thelfith,'
She cried, because her cousin {252}
Besought one pillow, while she hugged
Them all, a half a dozen.

She found a bell that tinkled,
And fastened it, for fun,
'Round kitty's neck then clapped her hands,
And cried, run! Kitty, run!

She fain would pick the eyes out,
Of little baby-brother,
"To find the pretty balls like those
In fishes' eyes, and other."

{253}

And then she'd fold her little hands
So quaintly and demurely,
You'd think she must be quite a saint,
Or not a sinner, surely.

And thus her pranks from day to day
And hour to hour repeated,
Would bring the thought, "Tis all for naught,
Our aims are all defeated."

* * * * *

Nay, nay, not so, the years roll by,
And Ethel's baby-mischief
Becomes the power that leads her kind,
For by her force she is chief.

* * * * *

_THE SIX SISTERS._

ONE of us e'er lives in dates,
One in every peach awaits;
One in pine-apple is found,
One in orange, bright and round,
One in plum, so luscious sweet,
And our last in strawberry--treat.

{254}

_THE LITTLE GIRLS' LETTER TO GOD._

Now Susy's such a naughty dirl,
And I ain't any better,
And so we thought we just would wite
The dear dood Dod a letter.

And tell him all about our bad,
Betause he'd have to know,
Or else he touldn't mate us dood,
And so we told him how,

{255}

Once when I spit on Susy's dwess
Then Susy spit on me;
And when I bwote her dolly's arm
She smashed my Twistmas-twee.

Then when I pushed her off the wall,
She spattered me with mud;
When I pulled up her tolumbine,
She snapped my wed wose-bud

{256}

I talled her "old dwanmother Dwill"
And she tailed me "old maid,"--
And then we stwatched each others' eyes
Down in the darden shade.

And then my ma and Susy's ma
Both said the only way
Would be to teep us little dirls
Apart in all our play.

{257}

And so the bid, brown date was shut,
And that was such a bother,--
'Tause Susy's yard was on one side
And mine was on the other.

But we tould peet thwough all the twats,
And tiss us thwough the hole
Where the bid, udly knot tame out,
As bid as Susy's bowl,

For I love Susy awful much,
And Susy she loves me,
And so we told the dear, dood Dod
We'd twy dood dirls to be.

So now when we just feel the bad
A-tomin' in our heart,
We both wun home and shut the date
And teep ourselves apart.

And in a minute all the dood
Tomes bat,--and then our plays
Seem nicer yet, and we fordet
The naughty,--naughty--ways.

{258}

{259}

_GRANDMA'S LESSONS._

"Tis guilt to wear the garb of sin,
Though all be innocent within,"
These little girls heard grandma say,
And wondered if 'twere half in play.
But when they're wiser, older grown,
And when the world to them is known,
They'll learn to shun even seeming ill;
They'll learn with grace their lives to fill,
And thank dear grandma o'er and o'er,
For this, and many lessons more.
"'Tis guilt to wear the garb of sin,
Though all be innocent within."

"If you do well by others' ills,
You'll do right well," she said,
When we would come and tell about
The naughtiness of Ned.
"Now children, if you shun the bad
You may in others find,
And never let yourself be rude,
Or naughty, or unkind,
You'll learn to do by others' ills
Right well," dear grandma said,
"And in the way that's good and true,
Your youthful feet shall tread."

{260}

_MY LITTLE FOUR-YEARS-OLD_

Telling Dolly what she will say to her birthday friends

I'm four years old to-day, and I
Can talk enough for ten birth-days,
And I shan't rhyme it, neither;--
For little girls can't do it nice.
No matter what they think, and so
They needn't try, no, never.

I'm glad you all are here, and now,
With all our dollies in a row,
I'm sure we'll have good times;
And when we have our apples, grapes,
And nuts and figs and patty-cakes,
Who'll care for silly rhymes!

{261}

_HANDSOME DICK._

ELZIE'S kitty, white as snow,
Loves his little mistress so,
That he'll come at her command,
Lift his paw to shake her hand,
Bow his head and kneel to her,
Rumpling all his milk-white fur;
Many another pretty trick,
Too, he's learned, our Elzie's Dick.

{262}

Well, the Church-Fair coming on,
Elzie thought, "What can be done
By a little girl like me,
In the cause of charity?"

Mam'a told her she would show
Her some fancy work to do,
Which a half-a-dozen dimes
Sure would bring;--so, many times
Elzie made her fingers fly
Neat and nice to form the "tie."
Now our Elzie, large and fine,
Looks like twelve, though only nine--
And the "tie" when quite complete,
Was so small, though choice and neat,
That it could not be denied,
Elzie was not satisfied.
So she shook her curly head,
As with curious smile she said:
"If I were a _little_ girl,
Like Nannette or Cousin Pearl,
This wee 'tie' might then appear
Just the thing,--but now, I fear,
Looking at the 'tie' and me,
We shall seem to disagree.--

{263}

Now, Mamma, don't answer quick;
Stop and think,--my snowy Dick
At the Fair might win some pence,
By his wise obedience;
And his pretty winsome ways
Being shown through all the days;--
And, dear Mamma, then I should
Feel I'd done the best I could."

Quickly Mamma took the thought,
And a royal cage was brought;
Cushion made of scarlet bright,--
For our Dicky, pure and white,
Thus was wont to perch and sit,--
And a collar blue we fit
To his neck, when loyal, true,
He presents red, white, and blue.

So the cage is placed within
A sly corner, free from din,
And with tickets five cents each,
Elzie sought her end to reach.

{264}

"Handsome Dick! weight fifteen pounds"--
Whispers Elzie on her rounds;
"What is 'Handsome Dick'?" they say;
"Come and see, please,--step this way;"

And once seen they're glad to tell
Others of white Dick, as well;--
For the cat, as knowing now
He must make his courtliest bow.

{265}

Did his best to help along
Elzie's plan, the friends among.
Upon his cushion he would stand,
Or sit, as Elzie might command;
Then down upon his blanket lie
And be wrapped up like baby-bye;
Would lap his milk, or dainty, sip,
And shake his pretty under-lip,
Thus showing teeth as white as pearl,--
Then round and round would quickly whirl,
Till each one seeing, cheerful, said:
"For that five cents I'm sure we're paid."

Thus the three days passing by,
Which the Fair must occupy--
Dollars ten--ah, yes! and more,
Elzie holds within her store!
Dues for cage and tickets met,
And the _ten_ is Elzie's yet,--
Which unto the Fair she gave
With an air so joyful-grave,
That it seemed a spirit bright,
Nestled in her heart so light;--
And a happier child than she,
We may never hope to see.

{266}

_BESSIE'S KISSES._

Kisses, kisses, raining, raining,
On her lips, her cheeks, her brow,
Till she, wearied, "Daughter, darling,
Mamma's had enough for now."
"Ah! but Bessie has so many!"--
Naught the pretty prattler daunts;
Mamma pleading, baby shouting,
"Ah! but Bessie's more'n she wants."

{267}

_THE DINNER-POT._

The homeliest things are highest worth,
The dinner-pot's a treasure
Compared with diamonds, chains and rings,
Which serve alone for pleasure;--
Enwreathe the dinner-pot with flame,
And fill it with love's mixings,
And it possesses charms beyond
All gold or fancy fixings.

And then, our bony frame-work, too,
So stiff and hard and homely,
Will serve when plumpness all is gone,
And lost is all that's comely.
Fling beauty, grace and sweetness round,
Festoon your lives with flowers,
But ne'er forget that plainest things
Are life's most precious dowers.

{268}

_NANNY'S PLAY._

Our Nanny helped her mother
In many a childish way,--
She picked up chips to feed the fire,
And "played that it was play."

She loved the hens and chickens
And fed them day by day,
And dubbed them each with quaintest name,
And this was always play.

She hunted through the big barn
For hens' nests in the hay,
And fetched the eggs right carefully,
And this again was play.

She donned her mother's dust-cap
And danced about so gay,
And planned how she would house-keep,
And this was "truly play."

{269}

With basin full of water
She scrubbed the door one day,
And splashed about till mother dear
Must work instead of play.

{270}

With brush and broom a-sweeping
She fluttered like a fay;
The broken cup soon told her
'Twas anything but play.

{271}

She romped around the hay-field
And shook the new-mown hay,
And with her baby-rake she gleaned
The meadow for her play.

She ran to pick the berries
That ripened by the way,
And with her basket full to brim
This was the best of play.

So many things, so many,
Far more than I can say,
Our Nanny in her childhood
Has "played that it was play."

{272}

_NANNY'S LESSONS._

Our Nanny was but four years old
When mother said, "My love,
Your needle learn with skill to use,
It will a blessing prove."

So Nanny learned to "overhand,"
And "hem" so fine and neat,
To "backstitch," "run," and many a join
That she could scarce repeat.

{273}

She learned to "catch-stitch" and to "cross,"
To "patch" and "darn," as well,
To "gather," "plait," "box-plait" and "side,"
To "feather-stitch" and "fell."

She sewed the buttons fast, and "worked
The buttonholes" so neat,
That many an eld accomplishes
With less success, the feat.

"Be sure your thread is smooth and strong,
A goodly knot or two,
A double stitch for first, and then
A fastening sure when through;

"And thus your seams will never rip,
Your sewing never wear,--
Like buttons loose and hooks awry,--
A slip-shod, shiftless air."

All this and more her mother taught,
And Nanny conned it o'er
Till she was versed in all the arts
That point the seamster's lore.

{274}

{275}

Her ninth birthday, and mother said
"You're old enough to care
For all your clothing now, my child,
Except the best you wear.

"And here, within this little chest,
And in this drawer wide,
You'll keep them ranged so neat and nice,
Whatever may betide.

"A place for this, a place for that,
Each garment grouped aright,
That you may lay your little hand
Upon it, day or night.

"No garment must be laid within,
Except it ready be,
To don and wear, for thus you spare
Us trouble, you and me."

And Nanny, pleased with mother's trust,
Accepted it with pride,
And, in her heart, the lessons learned
Forevermore abide.

{276}

_NANNY'S RIDE._

Our Nanny oft in fancy
Soared up, the earth above,
And sailed the great air-ocean
With skylark or with dove.

And in this fashion musing,
One sunny summer's day,
Half-watching mother mending
And baby-brother play,

Without a word of warning
The old umbrella came,
Opened upside down before her,
And whispered soft her name.

{277}

"Come, Nanny you've been longing
For a ride, and now's your time:
Jump in,--be quick! And careful, too,
For I'm o'erpast my prime."

So, springing in, she sat there
As happy as you please,
And through the open window,
Was borne upon the breeze.

The sparrows eyed her keenly,
The doves left off their cooing,
And children, cause they couldn't go,
Set up a grand boo-hoo-ing.

She bobbed against a clothes-line,
And all the wash went flying; {278}
The good dame cried, "A witch! a witch!
The saints forefend my drying."

And next she got entangled
In the telegraphic wires;
And when she jerked away from them,
She bumped against the spires.

She hit the tallest chimneys,
And set the smoke a-curling,
Then knocked a flag-pole all awry,
The stars and stripes a-whirling.

Now, far beyond the city,
With mountains in her face,
An eagle pounced to catch her,
But she quickly won the race.

{279}

Within a mountain cavelet,
Two baby-bears so young,
Smiled on her as she passed them,
And greetings to her flung.

She heard the thunder rolling.
And saw the lightning's glare,
From clouds away beneath her,
While 'round her all was fair.

{280}

{281}

She met a cherub driving
A brace of butterflies,
While dancing on a gorgeous one,
Away in wonder-skies.

She saw an angel lighting
The stars up one by one,
As he balanced on a cloudlet
That was left behind the sun.

She heard angelic music,
Far up, the blue along,
And knew 'twas Mary crooning o'er
Her first sweet cradle-song.

{282}

She saw such wondrous pictures,
So beautiful and grand,
Such skyscapes and such cloudscapes,
Such waterscapes and land.

But now the fluttering insects
All round her plainly told
That she was nearing Mother Earth
Far o'er the daisy-wold;

And startled at the distance
From home, the baby screaming
And mother still a-mending there,
Told Nanny she'd been dreaming.

{283}

_THE RACE._

A hop, a skip, and a gambol,
A run, a tumble, a scramble,
An up-and-a-going,
A laughing-and-crowing,
A weal-and-a-woe-ing,--
Yes, a race for a ball
Or a toy we may call,
This race that is human,--
For child, man, or woman,
Tis one and the same,
A mysterious game
That is played by us all,
And we each get a fall;
And so many it may be
That forever a baby
We feel in the race
For a name and a place.

{284}

_OUR KENNETH._

Written for our pet, as indicative of what he _should be_ but _is not_.

Know ye our little black-eyed boy?
His name is Kenney Stone;
Now listen, for he always speaks
In such a gentle tone.

He never says "I will!" "I wi'n't!"
He's never rough nor rude,
But always bows with, "Thank you; please;"
And tries to be so good.

Our Kenneth never kicks nor strikes,
Nor makes an ugly face;
He never slides down banisters,
Nor puts things out of place.

He never says a naughty word,
Nor tells a big, big story!
O, no, nor even a little one,
To make us all so sorry.

{285}

{286}

Our Kenneth is a gentleman,
He will not scratch nor bite;
He never speaks to any child,
A word that is not right.

Our Kenneth never slams the doors
Nor stamps along the halls;
He goes away when he is told,
And comes when mamma calls.

Our Kenneth, everybody loves,
Because he's so polite,
Our darling little black-eyed boy,
Our Kenney Stone so bright.

{287}

_TO MY TEN-YEARS-OLD._

On thy cheek the roses lie;
Lilies, on thy forehead fair;
Violets blue, in each bright eye,
Sunbeams, in thy golden hair.

Pearls, within thy coral lips,
Ears and nostrils, crystal-clear,
Dainty, sea-shell finger tips,
Form, a sylph might love to wear.

Yet no beauty, thou, my child,
Save as filled with inward grace;
Save a spirit, undefiled,
Warm thy heart and wreathe thy face.

{288}

_DARE TO SAY NO._

Dear children, you are sometimes led
To sorrow, sin, and woe, {289}
Because you have not courage quite,
And dare not answer, No.

When playmates tell you this, or that
Is "very nice to do,"
See first what mamma says, or if
You think 'tis wrong, say No.

Be always gentle, but be firm.
And wheresoe'er you go,
If you are asked to do what's wrong,
Don't fear to answer, No.

False friends may laugh and sneer at you.
Temptations round you flow,
But prove yourself both brave and true,
And firmly tell them, No.

Sometimes a thing that's not a sin,
You might be asked to do,--
But when you think it is not best,
Don't yield, but answer, No.

True friends will honor you the more,
Ah, yes, and false ones too,
When they have learned you're not afraid
To stand and answer, No.

{290}

And when temptations rise within,
And plead to "come," or "go,"
And do a wrong for "_just this once_"
Be sure you answer, No.

For when you once have done a Wrong,
The Right receives a blow,--
And Wrong will triumph easier now,
So haste and answer, No.

There's many a little boy and girl,
And man and woman too,
Have gone to ruin and to death
For want of saying, No!

So, young or old, or great or small,
Don't fail, whate'er you do,
To stand for Right and nobly dare
To speak an honest No.

{291}

_ASK MOTHER._

Yes, my darling, when you question,
I will answer, simple, plain,
Just the Truth;--and when playmate
Tells you anything again,
Come to Mother, she will tell you,
Yes, and tell you always true,
For she knows what's low and sinful,
And what's right and wrong for you.

_TELL MOTHER._

'Tis wrong, my dear, to do a thing
That mother must not know;
And when your playmates, old or young,
Shall tell you thus to do,
Leave them at once, and quickly come
To your dear Mother's side,
And tell her,--for she'll know what's wrong,
And she will be your guide.

{292}

_DON'T TELL A LIE._

Don't tell a lie, dear children,
No matter what you do,-- {292}
Own up and be a hero,
Right honest, brave, and true.

You'd better have a whipping
Each day than tell a lie,--
No, not a "white one," even,
They lead to blackest dye.

The rod but hurts your body,
While lies deform your soul;--
Don't mind the present smarting,
Keep the spirit pure and whole.

But I am sure that mamma
And papa, too, will try
To help you children tell the Truth,
Nor drive you to a lie.

They will not punish harshly,
Nor when they're angry, quite;
Nor promise, and then fail to do,--
But always lead you right.

{294}

_LITTLE MOSES._

In the Talmud you will find it,--
In the quaint and curious lore
Of the ancient priests, or Rabbins,
Whom the people bowed before;

Find the story of an infant
Sitting on the kingly knee;
"Little Moses," Pharaoh calls him,--
Crowing loud in baby glee.

{295}

And the banqueters were cheering,
When the infant with a spring,
Reached and caught the crown that rested
Upon Pharaoh's head, as king.

Caught the crown, and quickly placed it
On his own unwitting head;
But the king and all his princes,
In the deed a meaning read.

Then spake Balaam, the magician,
"Not because the child is young,
Hath he done this thing unknowing;--
He hath mocked thee, he hath flung

"In thy face thy kindly dealings;
Such hath ever been the way
Of his people; a usurper--
Let his blood be spilled this day."

But the winsome baby-fingers
Toying with the kingly beard,
Won the edict: "Call the judges;
Let their counselings be heard."

{296}

So the judges and the wise men
Came with Jethro, Midian's priest,
Who, with wish to save young Moses,
Thus his majesty addressed:

"If it to the king be pleasing,
Fetch two plates, and we will hold
Them before the babe, a-brimming,
One with fire, and one with gold.

"If the child shall grasp the golden,
He hath done this knowingly;
He will trample on thy statutes;
For thine honor he must die.

"But if he shall grasp the other,
Know, O King, he knoweth nought
Of a royal crown or scepter,--
And his life with fire is bought."

These wise words, the king approving,
Plate of fire and plate of gold,
Courtiers brought, and screams of anguish,
Soon the childish choosing told.

{297}

For he, baby-like, had thrust it
In his mouth; and though he flung
Quick the coal, he ever after
Spake with slow and stammering tongue.

[Footnote: Exodus IV:10]

* * * * *

Charming 'tis to see
Children who agree;
Chaste, and choice, and cheery,
Chiming in so merry,
Childlike, ever;
Churlish, never.
Championing the good;
Challenging the rude;
Chary as the dove;
Chief in Jesus' love.

{298}

_THE CHILDREN'S RAILROAD._

Old Time has built a Railroad,
On which you children speed
To a land of light and plenty,
Or a land of darksome need;
And soon you'll come to a meadow,
Where two tracks mark the way,
But they'll run close up alongside
For many and many a day.

And one is strewn with roses,
While one looks bleak and bare,
With now and then a berry-bush,
And a violet here and there;--

{299}

On one you'll find companions
Who but for pleasure seek,
While friends along the other,
Will words of wisdom speak.

Be careful in your choosing,
For if you take the _Right_,
You will travel in the shadow
Of the Rock that shields at night;
'T will lead through greenest pastures
Where softest brooklets flow,
And land you at a Station
That is full of cheer and glow.

{300}

On the other track, the roses
Are backed by sharpest thorns;
While berries always nourish,
And the violet but adorns;--
You will stumble into sluices,
And what is worse than all,
Your self-respect and conscience
Grow weak with every fall.

Yes, if you choose the other
That looks so bright and gay,
You'll find the bridges broken,
And the road-bed washed away;
And when you near the Station,
You'll switch to a fearful leap,
That will hurl you into darkness,
And bury you in the deep.

But those who choose the Right one
Grow manly, womanly, true;
God's love-light shines upon them,
And falls as heavenly dew;--
They grieve at your wild folly,
And will gladly help you back,
If at any curve or turning
You seek the trusty track.

{301}

But ah! the scars you're wearing,
From thorns that pierced you sore,-- {302}
And the ditches in which you've fallen,
That were strewn with roses o'er;--
And the joys you've lost, unnumbered,
That spring from good deeds done;
And the fruits you've missed, unmeasured,
That by others have been won.

Though friends may be indulgent,
And loved ones even forget,
Yourself can never banish
The memories that beset.
You will wish you had never traveled
The way that leads to death;
You will wish you had never reveled
In the viper's venomed breath.