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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11147 ***
+
+UNCLE THOMAS' STORIES
+FOR
+GOOD CHILDREN
+
+PHEBE,
+THE
+BLACKBERRY GIRL.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+EDWARD LIVERMORE.
+WORCESTER.
+
+UNCLE THOMAS'S
+STORIES
+FOR
+GOOD CHILDREN
+
+[Illustration: UNCLE THOMAS.]
+
+PHEBE,
+THE BLACKBERRY GIRL.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+1850.
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+Uncle Thomas's Stories for Good Children.
+
+The design of this series of unpretending
+little books, is, to give to the
+Young information, joined with amusement.
+
+They are prepared for young children,
+and if, from the reading of these stories,
+they acquire a love for good books, the
+compiler's object will be accomplished.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+THE BLACKBERRY GIRL, PART I.
+
+THE BLACKBERRY GIRL, PART II.
+
+GOOD CHILDREN
+
+POOR CRAZY ROBERT
+
+THE PET LAMB
+
+FATHER WILLIAM AND THE YOUNG MAN
+
+THE LITTLE GIRL AND HER PETS
+
+THE FLOWERS
+
+THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS
+
+ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE
+
+WASHING AND DRESSING
+
+THE INDUSTRIOUS BOY
+
+WE ARE SEVEN
+
+THE IDLE BOY
+
+CASABLANCA
+
+TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR
+
+[Illustration: Phebe, the Blackberry Girl]
+
+
+
+
+THE BLACKBERRY GIRL.
+
+PART I.
+
+
+"Why, Phebe, are you come so soon,
+  Where are your berries, child?
+You cannot, sure, have sold them all,
+  You had a basket pil'd."
+
+"No, mother, as I climb'd the fence,
+  The nearest way to town,
+My apron caught upon a stake,
+  And so I tumbled down."
+
+"I scratched my arm, and tore my hair,
+  But still did not complain;
+And had my blackberries been safe,
+  Should not have cared a grain.
+
+[Illustration: Phebe and her Mother.]
+
+"But when I saw them on the ground
+  All scattered by my side,
+I pick'd my empty basket up,
+  And down I sat and cried.
+
+"Just then a pretty little Miss
+  Chanced to be walking by;
+She stopp'd, and looking pitiful,
+  She begg'd me not to cry.
+
+"'Poor little girl, you fell,' said she,
+  'And must be sadly hurt'--
+'O, no,' I cried, 'but see my fruit,
+  All mixed with sand and dirt!'
+
+"'Well, do not grieve for that,' she said:
+  'Go home, and get some more:'
+Ah, no, for I have stripp'd the vines,
+  These were the last they bore.
+
+"My father, Miss, is very poor,
+  And works in yonder stall;
+
+He has so many little ones,
+  He cannot clothe us all.
+
+"I always long'd to go to church,
+  But never could I go;
+For when I ask'd him for a gown,
+  He always answer'd, 'No.'
+
+"'There's not a father in the world
+  That loves his children more;
+I'd get you one with all my heart,
+  But, Phebe, I am poor.'
+
+"But when the blackberries were ripe
+  He said to me one day,
+'Phebe, if you will take the time
+  That's given you for play,
+
+"And gather blackberries enough,--
+  And carry them to town,--
+To buy your bonnet and your shoes,
+  I'll try to get a gown.'
+
+[Illustration: Phebe and Billy going to School.]
+
+"O Miss, I fairly jumped for joy,
+  My spirits were so light:
+And so, when I had leave to play,
+  I pick'd with all my might.
+
+"I sold enough to get my shoes,
+  About a week ago;
+And these, if they had not been spilt,
+  Would buy a bonnet too.
+
+"But now they are gone, they all are gone,
+  And I can get no more,
+And Sundays I must stay at home
+  Just as I did before.
+
+"And, mother, then. I cried again,
+  As hard as I could cry;
+And, looking up, I saw a tear
+  Was standing in her eye.
+
+"She caught her bonnet from her head--
+  'Here, here,' she cried, 'take this!'
+
+O, no, indeed--I fear your 'ma
+  Would be offended, Miss.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"'My 'ma! no, never! she delights
+  All sorrow to beguile;
+And 'tis the sweetest joy she feels,
+  To make the wretched smile.
+
+"'She taught me when I had enough,
+  To share it with the poor:
+And never let a needy child
+  Go empty from the door.
+
+[Illustration: The Church the Blackberry Girl went to.]
+
+"'So take it, for you need not fear
+  Offending her, you see;
+I have another, too, at home,
+  And one's enough for me.'
+
+"So then I took it,--here it is--
+  For pray what could I do?
+And, mother, I shall love that Miss
+  As long as I love you."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration: Phebe with a Basket of Berries.]
+
+
+
+
+THE BLACKBERRY GIRL.
+
+PART II.
+
+
+"What have you in that basket, child?"
+  "Blackberries, Miss, all pick'd to-day;
+They're very large and fully ripe;
+  Do look at them, and taste them pray."
+
+"O yes: they're very nice, indeed.
+  Here's fourpence--that will buy a few:
+Not quite so many as I want--
+  However, I must make it do."
+
+"Nay, Miss, but you must take the whole;"
+  "I can't, indeed, my money's spent;
+I should he glad to buy them all,
+  But I have not another cent."
+
+"And if you had a thousand, Miss,
+  I'd not accept of one from you.
+Pray take them, they are all your own.
+  And take the little basket, too.
+
+"Have you forgot the little girl
+  You last year gave a bonnet to?
+Perhaps you have--but ever will
+  That little girl remember you.
+
+"And ever since, I've been to church,
+  For much do I delight to go;
+And there I learn that works of love
+  Are what all children ought to do.
+
+"So then I thought within myself,
+  That pretty basket, Billy wove,
+I'll fill with fruit for tha dear Miss,
+  For sure 'twill be a work of love.
+
+"And so one morning up I rose,
+  While yet the fields were wet with dew,
+
+And pick'd the nicest I could find,
+  And brought them, fresh and sweet, for you.
+
+"I know the gift is small indeed,
+  For such a lady to receive;
+But still I hope you'll not refuse
+  All that poor Phebe has to give."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration: Good Children learning their Hymn.]
+
+
+
+
+GOOD CHILDREN.
+
+
+How lovely, how charming the sight,
+  When children their Savior obey!
+The angels look down with delight,
+  This beautiful scene to survey.
+
+Little Samuel was holy and good;
+  Obadiah served God from his youth,
+And Timothy well understood,
+  From a child, the Scripture of truth.
+
+But Jesus was better than they:
+  From a child he was spotless and pure,
+His parents he loved to obey,
+  And God's perfect will to endure.
+
+Like Samuel, Lord, I would be,
+  Obadiah and Timothy, too;
+And oh! grant thy help unto me,
+  The steps of my Lord to pursue.
+
+Make me humble, and holy, and mild,
+  From the wicked constrain me to flee,
+And then though I am but a child,
+  My soul shall find favor of thee.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+POOR CRAZY ROBERT
+
+
+Poor Robert is crazy, his hair is turn'd gray,
+  His beard has grown long, and hangs down to his breast;
+Misfortune has taken his reason away,
+  His heart has no comfort, his head has no rest.
+
+Poor man, it would please me to soften thy woes,
+  To soothe thy affliction, and yield thee support;
+But see through the village, wherever he goes,
+  The cruel boys follow, and turn him to sport.
+
+'Tis grievous to sue how the pitiless mob
+  Run round him and mimic his mournful complaint,
+
+[Illustration: Poor Crazy Robert.]
+
+And try to provoke him, and call him old Bob,
+  And hunt him about till he's ready to faint.
+
+But ah! wicked children, I fear they forget
+  That God does their cruel diversion behold;
+And that in his book dreadful curses are writ,
+  For those who shall mock at the poor and the old.
+
+Poor Robert, thy troubles will shortly be o'er,
+  Forget in the grave thy misfortunes will be;
+But God will his vengeance assuredly pour
+  On those wicked children who persecute thee.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration: The Pet Lamb.]
+
+
+
+
+THE PET LAMB.
+
+
+The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
+I heard a voice: it said, Drink, pretty creature,
+  drink!
+And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied
+A snow-white mountain Lamb with a maiden at its
+  side.
+
+No other sheep were near; the Lamb was all alone,
+And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone;
+With one knee on the grass did the little maiden
+  kneel,
+While to that mountain Lamb she gave its evening
+  meal.
+
+The Lamb, while from her hand he thus his
+  supper took,
+Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail
+  with pleasure shook.
+Drink, pretty creature, drink, she said in such a tone
+That I almost received her heart into my own.
+
+'Twas little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty
+  rare!
+I watched them with delight, they were a lovely
+  pair:
+Now with her empty can the maiden turned away;
+But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she
+  stay.
+
+Towards the Lamb she looked; and from that
+  shady place
+I unobserved could see the workings of her face;
+If nature to her tongue could measured numbers
+  bring,
+Thus, thought I, to her Lamb that little maid
+  might sing!
+
+What ails thee, young one? what? why pull so at
+  thy cord?
+Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and
+  board?
+Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass
+  can be;
+Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth
+  thee?
+
+What is it thou wouldst seek? what is wanting to
+  thy heart?
+Thy limbs are they not strong? And beautiful
+  thou art:
+This grass is tender grass; these flowers they
+  have no peers;
+And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears!
+
+If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woolen
+  chain;
+This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst
+  gain!
+
+For rain and mountain storms, the like thou need'st
+  not fear;
+The rain and storm are things that scarcely can
+  come here.
+
+Rest little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day
+When my father found thee first in places far away;
+Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned
+  by none,
+And thy mother from thy side forevermore was
+  gone.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee
+  home!
+A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou
+ roam?
+A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee
+  yearn
+Upon the mountain tops no kinder could have
+  been.
+
+Thou knowest that twice a day I brought thee in
+  this can
+Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever
+  ran;
+And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with
+  dew,
+I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and
+  new.
+
+Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they
+  are now;
+Then I'll yoke thee to my cart, like a pony in the
+  plough;
+
+My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is
+  cold
+Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy
+  fold.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+It will not, will not rest! poor creature, can it be
+That 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in
+  thee?
+Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear,
+And dreams of things which thou canst neither see
+  nor hear.
+
+Alas, the mountain tops that look so green and
+  fair!
+I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come
+  there:
+
+The little brooks that seem all pastime and at play,
+When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey.
+
+Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky;
+Night and day thou art safe,--our cottage is hard
+  by.
+Why bleat so after me? why pull so at thy chain?
+Sleep--and at break of day I will come to thee
+  again.
+
+As homeward through the lane I went with lazy
+  feet,
+This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat;
+And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line,
+That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was
+  mine.
+
+Again, and once again, did I repeat the song;
+Nay, said I, more than half to the damsel must
+  belong;
+For she looked with such a look, and she spake
+  with such a tone,
+That I almost received her heart into my own.
+
+[Illustration: Father William and the Young Man.]
+
+
+
+
+FATHER WILLIAM AND THE
+YOUNG MAN.
+
+
+You are old, Father William, the young man cries,
+  The few locks which are left you are gray:
+You appear, Father William, a healthy old man;
+  Now tell me the reason, I pray.
+
+When I was a youth, Father William replied,
+  I remembered that youth would fly fast;
+I abused not my health and my vigor at first,
+  That I never might need them at last.
+
+You are old, Father William, the young man said,
+  And pleasures, with youth, pass away;
+And yet you repent not the days that are gone
+  Now tell me the reason, I pray.
+
+When I was a youth, Father William replied,
+  I remembered that youth could not last:
+I thought of the future, whatever I did,
+  That I never might grieve for the past.
+
+You are old, Father William, the young man still cries,
+  And life is swift hastening away
+You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!
+  Come tell me the reason, I pray.
+
+I am cheerful, young man, Father William replied;
+  Let the cause your attention engage:
+In the days of my youth I remembered my God!
+  And he hath not forgotten my age.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE GIRL AND HER PETS.
+
+
+_Girl_       Swallow, thou dear one! now thou,
+               indeed,
+             From thy wandering dost reappear,
+             Tell me, who is it to thee that hath said
+             That again it is spring-time here.
+_Swa._       The fatherly God, in that far-off clime,
+             Who sent me, he told me 'twas sweet
+               spring-time.
+
+             And though she had come so far and wide,
+             She was not deceived in time or tide.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+             The snow it was gone, the sun shone warm,
+             The merry gnats danced in many a swarm,
+             The Swallow knew neither want nor care,
+             She found for her children enough and to
+               spare.
+
+_Girl_       Come, little Dog, 'tis your master's will
+             That you learn to sit upright and still.
+_Dog_        Learn must I? I'm so small, you see,
+             Just for a little while let it be!
+_Girl_       No, little Dog, it is far best to learn soon,
+             For later it would be more painfully done.
+
+             The little Dog learned, without more ado,
+             And soon could sit upright and walk
+               upright too;
+             In deepest waters unfearing could spring,
+             And whatever was lost could speedily bring.
+             The master saw his pleasure, and he too
+               began
+             To learn, and thus grew up a wise, good
+               man.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE FLOWERS.
+
+
+Say, Ma! did God make all the flowers
+  That richly bloom to-day?
+And is it he that sends sweet showers
+  To make them look so gay?
+
+Did he make all the mountains
+  That rear their heads so high?
+And all the little fountains
+  That glide so gently by?
+
+And does he care for children small?
+  Say, ma! does God love me?
+
+Has he the guardian care of all
+  The various things we see?
+
+Yes! yes! my child, he made them all--
+  Flowers, mountains, plants and tree;
+No man so great, no child so small,
+  That from his eye can flee.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS.
+
+
+Put up thy work, dear mother;
+  Dear mother, come with me,
+For I've found within the garden
+  The beautiful sweet-pea!
+
+And rows of stately hollyhocks
+  Down by the garden-wall,
+All yellow, white and crimson,
+  So many-hued and tall!
+
+And bending on their stalks, mother,
+  Are roses white and red;
+
+[Illustration: "Put up thy work, dear Mother."]
+
+And pale-stemmed balsams all a-blow,
+  On every garden-bed.
+
+Put up thy work, I pray thee,
+  And come out, mother dear!
+We used to buy these flowers,
+  But they are growing here!
+
+O, mother! little Amy
+  Would have loved these flowers to see;
+Dost remember how we tried to get
+  For her a pink sweet-pea?
+
+Dost remember how she loved
+  Those rose-leaves pale and sere?
+I wish she had but lived to see
+  The lovely roses here!
+
+Put up thy work, dear mother,
+  And wipe those tears away!
+And come into the garden
+  Before 'tis set of day!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE
+
+
+One, two,
+Buckle my shoe;
+Three, four,
+Shut the door;
+Five, six,
+Pick up sticks;
+Seven, eight,
+Lay them straight;
+Nine, ten,
+A good fat hen;
+Eleven, twelve,
+Who will delve?
+Thirteen, fourteen,
+Maids a courting;
+Fifteen, sixteen,
+Maids a kissing;
+Seventeen, eighteen,
+Maids a waiting;
+Nineteen, twenty,
+My stomach's empty.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+WASHING AND DRESSING.
+
+
+Ah! why will my dear little girl be so cross,
+  And cry, and look sulky and pout?
+To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss;
+  I can't even kiss her without.
+
+You say you don't like to be washed and be drest,
+  But would you be dirty and foul?
+Come, drive that long sob from your dear little breast,
+  And clear your sweet face from its scowl.
+
+If the water is cold, and the comb hurts your head,
+  And the soap has got into your eye,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Will the water grow warmer for all that you've said?
+  And what good will it do you to cry?
+
+It is not to tease you, and hurt you, my sweet,
+  But only for kindness and care,
+That I wash you and dress you, and make you look neat,
+  And comb out your tanglesome hair.
+
+I don't mind the trouble, if you would not cry,
+  But pay me for all with a kiss;
+That's right, take the towel and wipe your wet eye;
+  I thought you'd be good after this.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE INDUSTRIOUS BOY.
+
+
+In a cottage upon the heath wild,
+  That always was cleanly and nice,
+Liv'd William, a good little child,
+  Who minded his parents' advice.
+
+'Tis true he lov'd marbles and kite,
+  And spin-top, and nine-pins, and ball;
+But this I declare with delight,
+  His book he loved better than all.
+
+In active and useful employ
+  His youth gayly glided away;
+While rational pleasures and joy
+  Attended his steps every day.
+
+And now let us see him grown up;
+  Still cheerfulness dwelt in his mind,
+Contentment yet sweeten'd his cup,
+  For still he was active and kind.
+
+His garden well loaded with store,
+  His cot by the side of the green,
+Where woodbines crept over the door.
+  And jessamines peep'd in between.
+
+These fill'd him with honest delight,
+  And rewarded him well for his toil:
+He went to bed cheerful at night,
+  And woke in the morn with a smile.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+WE ARE SEVEN
+
+
+BY WM. WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+     A simple child,
+  That lightly draws its breath,
+And feels its life in every limb.
+  What should it know of death!
+
+I met a little cottage girl:
+  She was eight years old, she said;
+Her hair was thick with many a curl
+  That clustered round her head.
+
+She had a rustic woodland air,
+  And she was wildly clad:
+Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
+  Her beauty made me glad.
+
+Sisters and brothers, little maid,
+  How many may you be?
+How many?  Seven in all, she said,
+  And wondering looked at me.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+And where are they? I pray you tell.
+  She answered seven are we;
+And two of us at Conway dwell,
+  And two are gone to sea.
+
+Two of us in the churchyard lie,
+  My sister and my brother;
+And in the churchyard cottage, I
+  Dwell near them with my mother.
+
+You say that two at Conway dwell,
+  And two are gone to sea,
+Yet ye are seven!--I pray you, tell,
+  Sweet maid, how this may be.
+
+Then did the little maid reply,
+  Seven boys and girls are we;
+Two of us in the churchyard lie,
+  Beneath the churchyard tree.
+
+You run about, my little maid
+  Your limbs they are alive;
+If two are in the churchyard laid,
+  Then ye are only five.
+
+Their graves are green, they may be seen,
+  The little maid replied,
+Twelve steps or more from mother's door,
+  And they are side by side.
+
+My stockings there I often knit.
+  My 'kerchief there I hem;
+
+[Illustration: The Churchyard.]
+
+And there upon the ground I sit--
+  sit and sing to them.
+
+And often after sunset, sir,
+  When it is light and fair,
+I take my little porringer,
+  And eat my supper there.
+
+The first that died was little Jane;
+  In bed she moaning lay,
+Till God released her of her pain;
+  And then she went away.
+
+So in the churchyard she was laid;
+  And when the grass was dry,
+Together round her grave we played,
+  My brother John and I.
+
+And when the ground was white with snow,
+  And I could run and slide,
+My brother John was forced to go,
+  And he lies by her side.
+
+How many are you, then, said I,
+  If they two are in Heaven?
+The little maiden did reply,
+  O master! we are seven.
+
+But they are dead, those two are dead!
+  Their spirits are in heaven!
+'Twas throwing words away; for still
+The little maid would have her will,
+  And said, Nay, we are seven.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE IDLE BOY
+
+
+Thomas was an idle lad,
+  And loung'd about all day;
+And though he many a lesson had.
+  He minded nought but play.
+
+He only car'd for top or ball,
+  Or marbles, hoop or kite:
+But as for learning, that was all
+  Neglected by him quite.
+
+[Illustration: The Idle Boy.]
+
+In vain his mothers kind advice
+  In vain his master's care;
+He followed ev'ry idle vice,
+  And learnt to curse and swear!
+
+And think you, when he grew a man,
+  He prospered in his ways?
+No; wicked courses never can
+  Bring good and happy days.
+
+Without a shilling in his purse,
+  Or cot to call his own,
+Poor Thomas grew from bad to worse,
+  And harden'd as a stone.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+And oh, it grieves me much to write
+  His melancholy end;
+Then let us leave the dreadful sight,
+  And thoughts of pity send.
+
+But may we this important truth
+  Observe and ever hold:
+"All those who're idle in their youth
+  Will suffer when they're old."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CASABIANCA
+
+
+The boy stood on the burning deck,
+  Whence all but him had fled!
+The flame that lit the battle's wreck,
+  Shone round him o'er the dead.
+
+Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
+  As born to rule the storm;
+A creature of heroic blood,
+  A proud though childlike form.
+
+The flames roiled on--he would not go,
+  Without his father's word;
+That father, faint in death below,
+  His voice no longer heard.
+
+He called aloud--Say, father, say
+  If yet my task is done?
+He knew not that the chieftain lay
+  Unconscious of his son.
+
+Speak, father! once again he cried,
+  If I may yet be gone;
+And but the booming shots replied,
+  And fast the flames rolled on.
+
+Upon his brow he felt their breath,
+  And in his waving hair;
+And looked from that lone post of death
+  In still, yet brave despair,
+
+And shouted but once more aloud
+  My father! must I stay!
+
+While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
+  The wreathing fires made way.
+
+They wrapt the ship in splendor wild,
+  They caught the flag on high,
+And streamed above the gallant child,
+  Like banners in the sky.
+
+There came a burst of thunder sound:
+  The boy--O, where was he?
+Ask of the winds, that far around
+  With fragments strewed the sea--
+
+With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
+  That well had borne their part;
+But the noblest thing that perished there
+  Was that young faithful heart.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR.
+
+
+Twinkle, twinkle, little star;
+How I wonder what you are!
+Up above the world so high,
+Like a diamond in the sky.
+
+When the blazing sun is gone,
+When he nothing shines upon,
+Then you show your little light,
+Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
+
+Then the traveller in the dark
+Thanks you for your tiny spark!
+He could not see which way to go,
+If you did not twinkle so.
+
+In the dark blue sky you keep,
+And often through my curtains peep
+For you never shut your eye
+Till the sun is in the sky.
+
+As your bright and tiny spark
+Lights the traveller in the dark,
+Though I know not what you are,
+Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Blank Page]
+
+[Blank Page]
+
+
+
+
+UNCLE THOMAS' STORIES
+FOR
+GOOD CHILDREN
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHARLES' JOURNEY TO FRANCE. By Mrs. Barbauld.
+
+STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS. By Uncle Thomas.
+
+POETICAL TALES. By Mary Howitt.
+
+STORIES OF THE MONTHS. By Mrs. Barbauld.
+
+PHEBE, THE BLACKBERRY GIRL. By Uncle Thomas.
+
+GRIMALKIN AND LITTLE FIDO. By Uncle Thomas.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Phebe, The Blackberry Girl, by Edward Livermore
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11147 ***