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+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN">
+<HTML><HEAD><TITLE>A Book for Kids</TITLE>
+<META http-equiv=Content-Type content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
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+<META content="MSHTML 6.00.2900.2668" name=GENERATOR></HEAD>
+<BODY><PRE>
+Project Gutenberg's A Book for Kids, by C. J. (Clarence Michael James) Dennis
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Book for Kids
+
+Author: C. J. (Clarence Michael James) Dennis
+
+Release Date: July 9, 2005 [EBook #16251]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK FOR KIDS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Colin Choat
+
+
+
+
+
+</PRE>
+<H1>A BOOK FOR KIDS<BR>by<BR>C J Dennis<BR>(1921)</H1>
+<H4>[reissued as ROUNDABOUT (1935)]</H4>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-00.jpg"></P>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-01a.jpg"><IMG alt=""
+src="images/kids-01b.jpg"></P><PRE>
+<BR><A name=item-02></A>
+
+A very charming gentleman, as old as old could be,
+Stared a while, and glared a while, and then he said to me:
+"Read your books, and heed your books, and put your books away,
+For you will surely need your books upon a later day."
+And then he wheezed and then he sneezed, and gave me such a look.
+And he said, "Mark--ME--boy! Be careful of your book."
+
+A very charming gentleman, indeed, he seemed to be.
+He heaved a sigh and wiped his eye, and then he said to me:
+"Take your books and make your books companions--never toys;
+For they who so forsake their books grow into gawky boys."
+I don't know who he was. Do you? he snuffled at the end;
+And he said, "Mark--ME--boy! Your book should be your friend."
+
+</PRE>
+<H2>A BOOK FOR KIDS</H2>
+<P>&nbsp;</P>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-02a.jpg"><IMG alt=""
+src="images/kids-02b.jpg"></P>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-03.jpg"></P>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-04.jpg"></P><PRE>
+<BR><A name=item-01></A>
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+To all good children over four
+ And under four-and-eighty
+Be you not over-prone to pore
+ On matters grave and weighty.
+Mayhap you'll find within this book
+ Some touch of Youth's rare clowning,
+If you will condescend to look
+ And not descend to frowning.
+
+The mind of one small boy may hold
+ Odd fancies and inviting,
+To guide a hand unsure and old
+ That moves, these days, to writing.
+For hair once bright, in days of yore,
+ Grows grey (or somewhat slaty),
+And now, alas, he's over four,
+ Though under four-and-eighty.
+
+</PRE>
+<H2>CONTENTS</H2>
+<P><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-01">Dedication</A>
+<BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-02">A
+Very Charming Gentleman</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-03">The
+Baker</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-04">The
+Dawn Dance</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-05">Cuppacumalonga</A>
+<BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-06">The
+Swagman</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-07">The
+Ant Explorer</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-08">Riding
+Song</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-09">The
+Funny Hatter</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-10">The
+Postman</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-11">The
+Traveller</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-12">Our
+Street</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-13">The
+Little Red House</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-14">The
+Pieman</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-15">The
+Triantiwontigongolope</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-16">The
+Circus</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-17">You
+and I</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-18">Going
+to School</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-19">Hist!</A>
+<BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-20">Bird
+Song</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-21">The
+Music of Your Voice</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-22">The
+Boy who Rode into the Sunset</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-23">The
+Tram-man</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-24">The
+Axe-man</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-25">The
+Drovers</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-26">The
+Long Road Home</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-27">The
+Band</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-28">Bessie
+and the Bunyip</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-29">Good
+Enough</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-30">The
+Porter</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-31">Growing
+Up</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-32">The
+Unsociable Wallaby</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-32a">I
+wonder</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-33">The
+Song of the Sulky Stockman</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-34">Our
+Cow</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-35">The
+Teacher</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-36">The
+Spotted Heifers</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-37">Tea
+Talk</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-38">The
+Looking Glass</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-39">Woolloomooloo</A>
+<BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-39a">I
+wonder</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-40">The
+Barber</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-41">Farmer
+Jack</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-42">Old
+Black Jacko</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-43">Bird
+Song</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-44">The
+Sailor</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-45">The
+Famine</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-46">The
+Feast</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-47">Upon
+the Road to Rockabout</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-48">A
+Change of Air</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-49">Polly
+Dibbs</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-49a">I
+Suspect</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-50">Lullaby</A>
+<BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-50a">I
+wonder</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-51">The
+Publisher</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-52">Good
+Night</A> <BR><A
+href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/2/5/16251/16251-h/16251-h.htm#item-53">A
+Very Charming Gentleman</A></P>
+<P>&nbsp;</P>
+<H2>A BOOK FOR KIDS</H2><BR><A name=item-03></A><PRE>
+THE BAKER
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-05.jpg"></P><PRE>
+I'd like to be a baker, and come when morning breaks,
+Calling out, "Beeay-ko!" (that's the sound he makes)--
+Riding in a rattle-cart that jogs and jolts and shakes,
+Selling all the sweetest things a baker ever bakes;
+Currant-buns and brandy-snaps, pastry all in flakes;
+ But I wouldn't be a baker if . . .
+ I couldn't eat the cakes.
+ Would you?
+
+<BR><A name=item-04></A>
+
+
+THE DAWN DANCE
+
+What do you think I saw to-day when I arose at dawn?
+Blue Wrens and Yellow-tails dancing on the lawn!
+Bobbing here, and bowing there, gossiping away,
+And how I wished that you were there to see the merry play!
+
+But you were snug abed, my boy, blankets to your chin,
+Nor dreamed of dancing birds without or sunbeams dancing in.
+Grey Thrush, he piped the tune for them. I peeped out through the glass
+Between the window curtains, and I saw them on the grass--
+
+Merry little fairy folk, dancing up and down,
+Blue bonnet, yellow skirt, cloaks of grey and brown,
+Underneath the wattle-tree, silver in the dawn,
+Blue Wrens and Yellow-tails dancing on the lawn.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-05></A><PRE>
+CUPPACUMALONGA
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-06.jpg"></P><PRE>
+'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, where go you to-day?'
+I go to Cuppacumalonga, fifty miles away;
+ Over plains where Summer rains have sung a song of glee,
+ Over hills where laughing rills go seeking for the sea,
+I go to Cuppacumalonga, to my brother Bill.
+ Then come along, ah, come along!
+ Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga!
+ Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!
+
+'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, how do you get there?'
+For twenty miles I amble on upon my pony mare,
+ The walk awhile and talk awhile to country men I know,
+ Then up to ride a mile beside a team that travels slow,
+And last to Cuppacumalonga, riding with a will.
+ Then come along, ah, come along!
+ Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga!
+ Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!
+
+'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, what do you do then?'
+I camp beneath a kurrajong with three good cattle-men;
+ Then off away at break of day, with strong hands on the reins,
+ To laugh and sing while mustering the cattle on the plains--
+For up to Cuppacumalonga life is jolly still.
+ Then come along, ah, come along!
+ Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga!
+ Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!
+
+'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, how may I go too?'
+I'll saddle up my creamy colt and he shall carry you--
+ My creamy colt who will not bolt, who does not shy nor kick--
+ We'll pack the load and take the road and travel very quick.
+And if the day brings work or play we'll meet it with a will.
+ So Hi for Cuppacumalonga!
+ Come Along, ah, come along!
+ Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-07.jpg"></P><PRE>
+<BR><A name=item-06></A>
+
+
+THE SWAGMAN
+
+Oh, he was old and he was spare;
+His bushy whiskers and his hair
+Were all fussed up and very grey
+He said he'd come a long, long way
+And had a long, long way to go.
+Each boot was broken at the toe,
+And he'd a swag upon his back.
+His billy-can, as black as black,
+Was just the thing for making tea
+At picnics, so it seemed to me.
+
+'Twas hard to earn a bite of bread,
+He told me. Then he shook his head,
+And all the little corks that hung
+Around his hat-brim danced and swung
+And bobbed about his face; and when
+I laughed he made them dance again.
+He said they were for keeping flies--
+"The pesky varmints"--from his eyes.
+He called me "Codger". . . "Now you see
+The best days of your life," said he.
+"But days will come to bend your back,
+And, when they come, keep off the track.
+Keep off, young codger, if you can."
+He seemed a funny sort of man.
+
+He told me that he wanted work,
+But jobs were scarce this side of Bourke,
+And he supposed he'd have to go
+Another fifty mile or so.
+"Nigh all my life the track I've walked,"
+He said. I liked the way he talked.
+And oh, the places he had seen!
+I don't know where he had not been--
+On every road, in every town,
+All through the country, up and down.
+"Young codger, shun the track," he said.
+And put his hand upon my head.
+I noticed, then, that his old eyes
+Were very blue and very wise.
+"Ay, once I was a little lad,"
+He said, and seemed to grow quite sad.
+
+I sometimes think: When I'm a man,
+I'll get a good black billy-can
+And hang some corks around my hat,
+And lead a jolly life like that.
+
+<BR><A name=item-07></A>
+
+
+THE ANT EXPLORER
+
+Once a little sugar ant made up his mind to roam--
+To fare away far away, far away from home.
+He had eaten all his breakfast, and he had his ma's consent
+To see what he should chance to see and here's the way he went--
+Up and down a fern frond, round and round a stone,
+Down a gloomy gully where he loathed to be alone,
+Up a mighty mountain range, seven inches high,
+Through the fearful forest grass that nearly hid the sky,
+Out along a bracken bridge, bending in the moss,
+Till he reached a dreadful desert that was feet and feet across.
+'Twas a dry, deserted desert, and a trackless land to tread,
+He wished that he was home again and tucked-up tight in bed.
+His little legs were wobbly, his strength was nearly spent,
+And so he turned around again and here's the way he went--
+Back away from desert lands feet and feet across,
+Back along the bracken bridge bending in the moss,
+Through the fearful forest grass shutting out the sky,
+Up a mighty mountain range seven inches high,
+Down a gloomy gully, where he loathed to be alone,
+Up and down a fern frond and round and round a stone.
+A dreary ant, a weary ant, resolved no more to roam,
+He staggered up the garden path and popped back home.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-08></A><PRE>
+
+RIDING SONG
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-08.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Flippity-flop! Flippity-flop!
+Here comes the butcher to bring us a chop
+ Cantering, cantering down the wide street
+ On his little bay mare with the funny white feet;
+Cantering, cantering out to the farm,
+Stripes on his apron and basket on arm.
+ Run to the window and tell him to stop--
+ Flippity-flop! Flippity-flop!
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-09></A><PRE>
+
+THE FUNNY HATTER
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-09.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Harry was a funny man, Harry was a hatter;
+He ate his lunch at breakfast time and said it didn't matter.
+He made a pot of melon jam and put it on a shelf,
+For he was fond of sugar things and living by himself.
+He built a fire of bracken and a blue-gum log,
+And he sat all night beside it with his big--black--dog.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-10></A><PRE>
+
+THE POSTMAN
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-10.jpg"></P><PRE>
+I'd like to be a postman, and walk along the street,
+Calling out, "Good Morning, Sir," to gentlemen I meet,
+Ringing every door-bell all along my beat,
+In my cap and uniform so very nice and neat.
+Perhaps I'd have a parasol in case of rain or heat;
+ But I wouldn't be a postman if . . .
+ The walking hurt my feet.
+ Would you?
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-11></A><PRE>
+
+THE TRAVELLER
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-11.jpg"></P><PRE>
+As I rode in to Burrumbeet,
+I met a man with funny feet;
+And, when I paused to ask him why
+His feet were strange, he rolled his eye
+And said the rain would spoil the wheat;
+So I rode on to Burrumbeet.
+
+As I rode in to Beetaloo,
+I met a man whose nose was blue;
+And when I asked him how he got
+A nose like that, he answered, "What
+Do bullocks mean when they say 'Moo'?"
+So I rode on to Beetaloo.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-12.jpg"></P><PRE>
+As I rode in to Ballarat,
+I met a man who wore no hat;
+And, when I said he might take cold,
+He cried, "The hills are quite as old
+As yonder plains, but not so flat."
+So I rode on to Ballarat.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-13a.jpg"></P><PRE>
+As I rode in to Gundagai,
+I met a man and passed him by
+Without a nod, without a word.
+He turned, and said he'd never heard
+Or seen a man so wise as I.
+But I rode on to Gundagai.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-13b.jpg"></P><PRE>
+As I rode homeward, full of doubt,
+I met a stranger riding out:
+A foolish man he seemed to me;
+But, "Nay, I am yourself," said he,
+"Just as you were when you rode out."
+So I rode homeward, free of doubt.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-14.jpg"></P><BR><A
+name=item-12></A><PRE>
+
+OUR STREET
+
+In our street, the main street
+ Running thro' the town,
+You see a lot of busy folk
+ Going up and down:
+
+Bag men and basket men,
+ Men with loads of hay,
+Buying things and selling things
+ And carting things away.
+
+The butcher is a funny man,
+ He calls me Dandy Dick;
+The baker is a cross man,
+ I think he's often sick;
+
+The fruiterer's a nice man,
+ He gives me apples, too;
+The grocer says, "Good morning, boy,
+ What can I do for you?"
+
+Of all the men in our street
+ I like the cobbler best,
+Tapping, tapping at his last
+ Without a minute's rest;
+
+Talking all the time he taps,
+ Driving in the nails,
+Smiling with his old grey eyes--
+ (Hush) . . . telling fairy tales.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-13></A><PRE>
+
+
+THE LITTLE RED HOUSE
+
+Very few grown-up people understand houses. Only children understand
+them properly, and, if I understand them just a little, it is because
+I knew Sym. Sym and his wife, Emily Ann, lived in the Little Red
+House. It was built on a rather big mountain, and there were no other
+houses near it. At one time, long ago, the mountain had been covered
+all over with a great forest; but men had cut the trees down, all but
+one big Blue-gum, which grew near the Little Red House. The Blue-gum
+and the Little Red House were great friends, and often had long talks
+together. The Blue-gum was a very old tree--over a hundred years
+old--and he was proud of it, and often used to tell of the time, long
+ago, when blackfellows hunted 'possums in his branches. That was
+before the white men came to the mountain, and before there were any
+houses near it.
+
+Once upon a time I put a verse about the mountain and the Little Red
+House into a book of rhymes which I wrote for grown ups. I don't
+think they thought much about it. Very likely they said, "0h, it's
+just a house on a hill," and then forgot it, because they were too
+busy about other things.
+
+This is the rhyme:
+
+A great mother mountain, and kindly is she,
+Who nurses young rivers and sends them to sea.
+And, nestled high up on her sheltering lap,
+Is a little red house, with a little straw cap
+That bears a blue feather of smoke, curling high,
+And a bunch of red roses cocked over one eye.
+
+I have tried here to draw the Little Red House for you as well as I
+can; and it isn't my fault if it happens to look just a little like
+somebody's face. I can't help it, can I? if the stones of the door-step
+look something like teeth, or if the climbing roses make the windows
+look like a funny pair of spectacles. And if Emily Ann will hang bib
+fluffy bobs on the window blinds for tassels, and if they swing about
+in the breeze like moving eyes, well, I am not to blame, am I? It
+just happens. The only thing I am sorry for is that I couldn't get
+the big Blue-gum into the picture. Of course, I could have drawn it
+quite easily, but it was too big.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-15.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Sym and Emily Ann were fond of the Little Red House, and you may be
+sure the Little Red House was fond of them--he was their home. The
+only thing that bothered him was that they were sometimes away from
+home, and then he was miserable, like all empty houses.
+
+Now, Sym was a tinker--a travelling tinker. He would do a little
+gardening and farming at home for a while, and then go off about the
+country for a few days, mending people's pots and pans and kettles.
+Usually Sym left Emily Ann at home to keep the Little Red House
+company, but now and then Emily Ann went with Sym for a trip, and
+then the Little Red House was very sad indeed.
+
+One morning, just as the sun was peeping over the edge of the world,
+the big Blue-gum woke up and stretched his limbs and waited for the
+Little Red House to say "Good morning." The Blue-gum always waited
+for the greeting because he was the older, and he liked to have
+proper respect shown to him by young folk, but the Little Red House
+didn't say a word.
+
+The big Blue-gum waited and waited; but the Little Red House wouldn't
+speak.
+
+After a while the Blue-gum said rather crossly, "You seem to be out
+of sorts this morning."
+
+But the Little Red House wouldn't say a word.
+
+"You certainly do seem as if you had a pain somewhere," said the
+Blue-gum. "And you look funny. You ought to see yourself!"
+
+"Indeed?" snapped the Little Red House, raising his eyebrows just as
+a puff of wind went by. "I can't always be playing the fool, like
+some people."
+
+"I've lived on this mountain, tree and sapling, for over a hundred
+years," replied the big Blue-gum very severely, "and never before
+have I been treated with such disrespect. When trees become houses
+they seem to lose their manners."
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-16.jpg"></P><PRE>
+"Forgive me," cried the Little Red House. "I didn't mean to be rude.
+I was just listening. There are things going on inside me that I
+don't like."
+
+"I hope they aren't ill-treating you," said the Blue-gum.
+
+"They are going to leave me!" sighed the Little Red House.
+
+"And they are laughing quite happily, as if they were glad about it.
+There's a nice thing for you!--Going to leave me, and laughing about it!"
+
+"But perhaps you are wrong," said the big Blue-gum, who was not so
+hard-hearted as he seemed.
+
+"I always know," moaned the Little Red House. "I can't be mistaken.
+Sym was singing his Tinker's song this morning long before the sun
+was up. And then I heard him tell Emily Ann not to forget her umbrella.
+That means that she is going; and the little dog is going, and I shall
+be all alone."
+
+"Well," answered the Blue-gum rather stiffly, "you still have ME for
+company."
+
+"I know," sighed the Little Red House. "Don't think I'm ungrateful.
+But, when they both go away, I shan't be really and truly a home again
+until they come back--just an empty house; and it makes me miserable.
+How would YOU like to be an empty house?"
+
+"Some day I might be," replied the Blue-gum, "if I don't grow too old.
+There is some fine timber in me yet."
+
+Suddenly there was a great clattering and stamping inside the Little
+House, and Sym began to sing his Tinker's song.
+
+"Kettles and pans! Kettles and pans!
+All the broad earth is the tinkering man's--
+The green leafy lane or the fields are his home,
+The road or the river, where'er he way roam.
+He roves for a living and rests where he can.
+Then bring out your kettle! ho! kettle or pan!"
+
+There's a nice thing for you!" said the Little Red House bitterly.
+"What kind of a song do you call that? Any old place is good enough
+for his home, and I am just nothing!"
+
+"Oh, that's only his way of putting it," answered the Blue-gum kindly.
+"He doesn't really mean it, you know; he wants a change, that's all."
+
+But the Little Red House wouldn't say a word.
+
+"It looks a good deal like rain this morning, doesn't it?" said the
+Blue-gum cheerfully, trying to change the subject.
+
+But the Little Red House wouldn't say a word.
+
+Very soon Sym and Emily Ann, carrying bundles, came out of the Little
+Red House, laughing and talking; and Sym locked the door.
+
+"Now for a jolly trip!" shouted Sym, as he picked up his firepot and
+soldering-irons.
+
+But all at once Emily Ann ceased laughing and looked back wistfully
+at the Little Red House.
+
+"After all I'm sorry to leave our little home," she said. "See how
+sad it looks!"
+
+"Hurry on!" cried Sym, who was all eagerness for the trip. Then he,
+too, looked back. "Why, you forgot to draw down the blinds," he said.
+
+"No, I didn't forget," answered Emily Ann, "but I think it a shame to
+blindfold the Little Red House while we are away. I just left the
+blinds up so that he could see things. Good-bye, little home," she
+called. And the Little Red House felt just the least bit comforted to
+think that Emily Ann was sorry to leave him. Then she went off down
+the winding path with Sym; and Sym began to shout his Tinker's Song
+again.
+
+The Little Red House watched them go down the mountain.
+
+Away they went: through the gate, past the black stump, round by the
+bracken patch and over the bridge, across the potato paddock, through
+the sliprails--getting smaller and smaller--past the sign-post, down
+by the big rocks--getting smaller and smaller--under the tree-ferns,
+out on to the stony flat, across the red road, until they were just
+two tiny specks away down in the valley. Then they went through a
+white gate, round a turn, and the high scrub hid them.
+
+Had you been able to see the Little Red House just at that moment, you
+would have been sure he was going to cry--he looked so miserable and
+so lonely.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-17.jpg"></P><PRE>
+"Cheer up!" said the big Blue-gum.
+
+But the Little Red House couldn't say a word.
+
+Presently the big Blue-gum groaned loudly.
+
+"Oo! Ah! Ah! Golly!" groaned the Blue-gum in a strange voice.
+
+"I beg your pardon? said the Little Red House.
+
+"Oh, I have a nasty sharp pain in my side," said the Blue-gum. "I do
+hope and trust it isn't white-ants. It would be simply horrible, if
+it were. Fancy getting white-ants at my time of life! Here I have
+lived on this mountain, tree and sapling, for over a hundred years;
+and to think those nasty, white, flabby little things should get me
+at last is horrible--horrible!"
+
+"I am sorry," said the Little Red House. "I'm afraid I've been very
+selfish, too. I was forgetting that everyone has troubles of his own;
+but I hope it isn't so bad as you fear."
+
+"It is bad enough," groaned the Blue-gum. "Ow! There it is again. I'm
+afraid it IS white-ants. I can feel the wretched little things nipping."
+
+But the Little Red House hardly heard him. He was thinking again of
+his own troubles.
+
+So they stood all through that day, saying very little to each other.
+Rabbits came and played about the Little Red House, and lizards ran
+over his door-step, and once a big wallaby went flopping right past
+the front gate. But the Little Red House paid no attention. He was
+too busy thinking of his loneliness.
+
+Birds came and perched in the branches of the big Blue-gum, and
+chattered and sang to him, trying to tell him the news of other trees
+on distant mountains. But the big Blue-gum took no notice. He was too
+busy thinking about white-ants.
+
+So the sun sank low behind the Little House, and the shadow of the
+tall Blue-gum began to creep down the mountain and get longer and
+longer.
+
+Just as it was growing dark, the big Blue-gum said Suddenly, "It
+certainly looks more like rain than ever. The heavy clouds have been
+gathering all day, and we shall get it properly to-night."
+
+But the rain did not come that night, nor the next day, nor for two
+days and nights. And all this while the Little Red House and the Big
+Blue-gum remained silent and miserable--one through loneliness, the
+other through white-ants.
+
+But on the evening of the third day the big Blue-gum said, "The rain
+will come to-night for certain. I know by the feel of the air."
+
+"Let it come!" said the Little Red House. "I don't care. I couldn't
+be more miserable than I am."
+
+Just as he said that, one great rain-drop fell right on the middle
+of his roof--Plop!
+
+"It's coming already," cried the Blue-gum, "and it's going to pour."
+
+Then three more big drops fell--Plop! Plop! Plop!
+
+"I have never in my life seen such big rain-drops," said the Blue-gum.
+"I've lived on this mountain, tree and sapling, for--"
+
+But--Crash! came rain before he could finish; and in two seconds
+everything was sopping wet. The noise of it was deafening,
+
+"Why, it's a cloud-burst!" shouted the Blue-gum. "Half of my leaves
+have been stripped off already." Then he peered through the rain and
+the dark to see how the Little Red House was taking it. "Why, what's
+the matter with your face?" he cried. "You look awful."
+
+"I'm crying!" sobbed the Little Red House. "That's all--just crying.
+"Can't you see the tears?"
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-18.jpg"></P><PRE>
+"Nonsense!" said the Blue-gum. "Those are not tears. It's just the
+rain-water running off your window-sills."
+
+"I tell you I'm crying!" wailed the Little Red House. "I'm crying
+bitterly. I should know, shouldn't I? I'm shivering and crying
+because I'm cold and lonely and miserable."
+
+"Oh, very well," agreed the Blue-gum. "You are crying. But if this
+rain doesn't stop soon, you'll cry the front path away. It certainly
+is wet."
+
+Very late that night the rain eased a little and then stopped
+altogether. The tears ceased to run from the eyes of the Little
+Red House, and they now came only in drops, slower and slower, falling
+into the great pool by the front door.
+
+"It's a hard world!" sobbed the Little Red House, squeezing out
+another tear.
+
+"Listen!" cried the Big Blue-gum. "Do you hear THAT?"
+
+From far away on the distant ranges came a dull, moaning sound. As
+they listened it grew louder, and right in the middle of of it came
+another sound--Thump!
+
+"That's wind," said the Blue-gum; "and a big wind, too."
+
+"Let it come!" sighed the Little Red House. "I couldn't be more
+miserable than I am."
+
+As he spoke, the moaning grew louder, and there were three or four
+quite big thumps one after another.
+
+"What's that thumping?" asked the little House.
+
+"Those are my poor brothers," answered the big Blue-gum very sadly,
+"Those are trees going down before the big wind. The birds were
+bringing me messages from those poor fellows quite lately; and now I
+shall never hear from them again. It's very sad."
+
+"I never thought the wind could blow down big trees," said the Little
+House.
+
+"No tree knows when his time will come," the big Blue-gum answered
+gravely. "I've had some very narrow escapes in my time, as tree and
+sapling on this mountain."
+
+The Little Red House was very quiet and thoughtful for a long time
+after that. Then he asked suddenly, "Which way do you think you would
+fall if you did fall?"
+
+But the big Blue-gum said that he couldn't tell. It depended on the
+wind, and he might fall any way.
+
+"Not on me!" cried the Little House.
+
+The Blue-gum said that he didn't know; but he hoped not.
+
+"If you DID fall on me," said the Little Red House, "I suppose it
+would hurt me."
+
+The Blue-gum said it certainly would, and there would be very little
+left but splinters and glass.
+
+"Then don't! Please don't," yelled the Little Red House.
+
+But before they could say another word the great wind struck them with
+a roar. It tossed the roses about so that the eyebrows of the Little
+House seemed to be twitching horribly; and it swayed the big Blue-gum
+this way and that till he appeared to be fighting for his very life.
+It picked up the fallen leaves and twigs, and even small stones, and
+hurled them down the mountain in a cloud.
+
+In the midst of all the uproar the Little House heard the Blue-gum
+calling to him.
+
+"As long as I've lived upon this mountain, tree and sapling," he
+shouted, "I've never known such a wind. I'm not so young as I used to
+be, and I fear that my end has come."
+
+"Be brave! Oh, be brave!" implored the Little Red House. "Don't let
+him blow you down. I should be so sorry to lose you, What are you
+grunting for?"
+
+"I'm not grunting," answered the Blue-gym in a pained voice. "Those
+are my roots giving way, one by one. I can't stand much more of this.
+Look out!"
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-19.jpg"></P><PRE>
+
+The Little Red House looked up, and what he saw terrified him. The
+big Blue-gum, in the clutch of the wind, was bent right over him,
+so that the top branches seemed to be just above his roof; and the
+great tree appeared to be falling, falling, helplessly.
+
+"Don't fall on me!" shrieked the Little Red House. "Oh, don't fall
+on me; because, if you do, you know you'll squash me! I don't want
+to be squashed!"
+
+But the big Blue-gum said, "There is just one little root holding
+now. If that gives way we are both done for."
+
+"Be brave! Oh, be brave!" shrieked the Little Red House.
+
+Then slowly, very slowly, the big Blue-gum began to straighten up
+again, away from the Little Red House.
+
+"I have stood upon this mountain, tree and sapling, for over a
+hundred years," he said when he had recovered; "but if it blows like
+that again, it is the end of me."
+
+But it did not blow like that again; though the wind howled and
+shrieked all that day as if it was very angry and disappointed that
+it could not blow down the big Blue-gum.
+
+Then, towards evening, the wind fell; the heavy clouds went away
+beyond the edge of the sky, and all became very calm and peaceful.
+
+The birds came from their hiding places and sat in the branches of
+the Blue-gum and chattered away to him, until he began to feel quite
+cheerful once more, in spite of his trouble. And when a certain
+little Tree-creeper--a very wise bird--came and had a long, serious
+talk with the Blue-gum, he became very much interested indeed and
+quite happy.
+
+But the Little Red House was miserable still; and the beauty of
+the evening didn't cheer him up one bit.
+
+"Ah, well," said the Blue-gum, when the darkness came to the mountain,
+"I am going to have a good sleep tonight. I'm a match still for old
+Daddy Wind, in spite of all his noise and bluster. And there are ways
+of dealing with white-ants, too. I've lived upon this mountain, tree
+and sapling, for--"
+
+But as he was talking he fell fast asleep.
+
+The Little Red House did not sleep. How could he, with his eyes wide
+open? So he just stood there all night staring before him, lonely and
+wretched. And when an owl came and sat in the tree and began to call,
+"Mopoke," the Little Red House told him rudely to stop his silly noise
+and clear out. That will just show you how very miserable he was.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-20.jpg"></P><PRE>
+It was quite late next morning when the Blue-gum awoke. He stretched
+his big limbs, and began to wonder what he might say to comfort the
+Little Red House. But when the Blue-gum looked down, he saw that the
+Little Red House was smiling all over his face.
+
+"Well, now!" cried the big Blue-gum cheerfully. "That's the kind of
+face I like to see in the morning! So you've decided to be sensible
+and forget your loneliness?"
+
+But the Little Red House didn't say a word. He just went on smiling.
+
+Then the big Blue-gum began to get uneasy.
+
+"I do hope your troubles haven't turned you silly," he said. "You
+haven't lost your senses, have you?"
+
+"I?" cried the Little Red House. "Why, look down the valley! See
+who's coming!"
+
+Down, far down, the valley, just coming through the white gate, were
+two figures that looked like tiny specks. And much nearer was another
+speck, which was certainly a little dog.
+
+"It's them--I mean those are they!" shouted the Little Red House
+happily. "Sym and Emily Ann! And here comes our little dog."
+
+"Well, you certainly have sharp eyes," replied the Blue-gum. "But I
+suppose I'm getting old--over a hundred years, you know."
+
+The two figures were through the white gate now, and had crossed the
+red road out on to the stony flat--getting bigger and bigger as they
+came; and the smile on the Little Red House seemed to grow broader
+and broader. On they came, under the tree-ferns, up by the big rocks,
+past the sign-post. And now the Little Red House could hear Sym
+singing his Tinker's song.
+
+But it was not quite the same song this time:
+
+"Kettles and pans! Ho, kettles and pans!
+Where's there a home like the tinkering man's?
+Weary of wandering, home is the place--
+The Little Red House with the smile on his face--
+Weary and hungry, my Emily Ann.
+Then put on the kettle! Ho, put on the pan!"
+
+"Now THAT is the sort of song I DO like," said the Little Red House,
+as he watched them coming up the mountain.
+
+On they came, growing bigger and bigger--through the sliprails, across
+the potato paddock, over the bridge, round by the bracken-patch, past
+the black stump, through the gate, and here they were, right at the
+front door.
+
+"Oh, I AM glad to be home again," cried Emily Ann. "And do look at the
+Little House. He seems to be smiling."
+
+"Of course he is smiling," answered Sym; "but he has a very dirty face."
+
+"The storm did that," said Emily Ann. "Now hurry and get the fire
+alight, and I'll put the kettle on." And they went inside laughing
+and singing, while the little dog flew round the house, barking for
+dear life, and pretending he was very busy seeing everything was
+in order.
+
+"Now I suppose you're happy," said the big Blue-gum to the Little
+Red House.
+
+"Happy?" cried the Little House. "Of course I am. Why, I'm a home
+again!" But suddenly he remembered that his own happiness had made
+him forget all about his old friend's troubles; and he tried his best
+to look serious, as he said: "But what about YOU? Are the white-ants
+still troubling you?"
+
+"Ah!" replied the Blue-gum. "Don't let that worry you. Yesterday I
+had a talk with the doctor--Doctor Tree-creeper, you know--a very
+clever little bird he is, and he knows all about white-ants. He
+examined me thoroughly all over. He says that they have hardly got
+under my skin yet, and he will have them all out in a couple of days.
+So THAT'S all right."
+
+"Well, I am glad," shouted the Little Red House. "Now we are ALL happy!"
+
+Then Sym got the fire started, and the smoke curled up, and the Little
+House had his gay blue feather once again. Sym began to sing his
+Tinker's Song louder than ever, and Emily Ann, who was getting the
+meal ready, joined in and sang too. Very soon the kettle also began
+to sing, and, when the pan heard that HE began to sing. Then Doctor
+Tree-creeper arrived to attend to the white-ants, and, as he walked
+round the trunk of the big Blue-gum, tapping it just like a doctor,
+HE began to sing. And two Kookaburras, who were sitting on the fence,
+were so tickled with it all, that they laughed and laughed till they
+made everyone else laugh with them.
+
+"This is quite like old times," laughed the big Blue-gum. "Are you
+contented now?"
+
+"Am I contented?" cried the Little Red House. "Am I contented? Well,
+what would you think?"
+
+And then--well, most ordinary grown-up folk would tell you that just
+then Emily Ann drew down one of the front blinds. But all the big
+Blue-gum knew, and all you and I know, is that the Little Red House
+winked.
+
+And when I saw him last, his smile was as broad as ever, and he was
+still winking.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-21.jpg"></P><PRE>
+<BR><A name=item-14></A>
+
+
+THE PIEMAN
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-22.jpg"></P><PRE>
+I'd like to be a pieman, and ring a little bell,
+Calling out, "Hot pies! Hot pies to sell!"
+Apple-pies and Meat-pies, Cherry-pies as well,
+Lots and lots and lots of pies--more than you can tell.
+Big, rich Pork-pies! Oh, the lovely smell!
+ But I wouldn't be a pieman if . . .
+ I wasn't very well.
+ Would you?
+
+<BR><A name=item-15></A>
+
+
+THE TRIANTIWONTIGONGOLOPE
+
+There's a very funny insect that you do not often spy,
+And it isn't quite a spider, and it isn't quite a fly;
+It is something like a beetle, and a little like a bee,
+But nothing like a wooly grub that climbs upon a tree.
+Its name is quite a hard one, but you'll learn it soon, I hope.
+So try:
+ Tri-
+ Tri-anti-wonti-
+ Triantiwontigongolope.
+
+It lives on weeds and wattle-gum, and has a funny face;
+Its appetite is hearty, and its manners a disgrace.
+When first you come upon it, it will give you quite a scare,
+But when you look for it again, you find it isn't there.
+And unless you call it softly it will stay away and mope.
+So try:
+ Tri-
+ Tri-anti-wonti-
+ Triantiwontigongolope.
+
+It trembles if you tickle it or tread upon its toes;
+It is not an early riser, but it has a snubbish nose.
+If you snear at it, or scold it, it will scuttle off in shame,
+But it purrs and purrs quite proudly if you call it by its name,
+And offer it some sandwiches of sealing-wax and soap.
+So try:
+ Tri-
+ Tri-anti-wonti-
+ Triantiwontigongolope .
+
+But of course you haven't seen it; and I truthfully confess
+That I haven't seen it either, and I don't know its address.
+For there isn't such an insect, though there really might have been
+If the trees and grass were purple, and the sky was bottle green.
+It's just a little joke of mine, which you'll forgive, I hope.
+Oh, try!
+ Tri-
+ Tri-anti-wonti-
+ Triantiwontigongolope.
+
+<BR><A name=item-16></A>
+
+THE CIRCUS
+
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-23a.jpg" width=375><IMG alt=""
+src="images/kids-23b.jpg" width=375></P><PRE>
+Hey, there! Hoop-la! the circus is in town!
+Have you seen the elephant? Have you seen the clown?
+Have you seen the dappled horse gallop round the ring?
+Have you seen the acrobats on the dizzy swing?
+Have you seen the tumbling men tumble up and down?
+Hoop-la! Hoop-la! the circus is in town!
+
+Hey, there! Hoop-la! Here's the circus troupe!
+Here's the educated dog, jumping through the hoop.
+See the lady Blondin with the parasol and fan,
+The lad upon the ladder and the india-rubber man.
+See the joyful juggler and the boy who loops the loop.
+Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Here's the circus troupe!
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-17></A><PRE>
+
+YOU AND I
+
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-24.jpg"></P><PRE>
+They say the eagle is a bird
+That sees some splendid sights
+When he soars high into the sky
+Upon his dizzy flights:
+He sees the ground for miles around
+Our house, and Billy Johnson's;
+But we cannot be eagles, for
+That would, of course, be nonsense.
+
+But you and I, some summer day,
+Providing we're allowed,
+Will go up in an aeroplane
+And sail right through a cloud.
+But, if they say we may not go,
+We'll stay upon the ground
+With other things that have no wings,
+And watch them walk around.
+
+They say the bottom of the sea
+Is beautiful to view;
+They say the fish, whene'er they wish,
+Can sail and see it, too;
+The shining pearls, the coral curls,
+The sharks, the squids, the schnappers,
+And fish with fins (though not in tins)
+And fish with funny flappers.
+
+But you and I, some sunny day,
+When weather's in condition,
+Will go there in a submarine,
+Providing we've permission.
+
+But if they say we may not go
+We must respect their wishes;
+And you and I will just keep dry
+Because we are not fishes.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-25.jpg"></P><PRE>
+The earth is quite a jolly place,
+And we don't care for flying;
+And thnigs that creep down in the deep
+Are sometimes rather trying.
+So, if they'll grant a holiday
+Or even only half,
+We'll lie upon some grassy place,
+And think of things, and laugh.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-26.jpg"></P><BR><A
+name=item-18></A><PRE>
+
+GOING TO SCHOOL
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-27.jpg"></P><PRE>
+
+Did you see them pass to-day, Billy, Kate and Robin,
+All astride upon the back of old grey Dobbin?
+Jigging, jogging off to school, down the dusty track--
+What must Dobbin think of it--three upon his back?
+Robin at the bridle-rein, in the middle Kate,
+Billy holding on behind, his legs out straight.
+
+Now they're coming back from school, jig, jog, jig.
+See them at the corner where the gums grow big;
+Dobbin flicking off the flies and blinking at the sun--
+Having three upon his back he thinks is splendid fun:
+Robin at the bridle-rein, in the middle Kate,
+Little Billy up behind, his legs out straight.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-28.jpg"></P><BR><A
+name=item-19></A><PRE>
+
+HIST!
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-29.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Hist! . . . . . . Hark!
+The night is very dark,
+And we've to go a mile or so
+Across the Possum Park.
+
+Step . . . . . . light,
+Keeping to the right;
+If we delay, and lose our way,
+We'll be out half the night.
+The clouds are low and gloomy. Oh!
+It's just begun to mist!
+We haven't any overcoats
+And--Hist! . . . . . . Hist!
+
+(Mo . . . . . . poke!)
+Who was that that spoke?
+This is not a fitting spot
+To make a silly joke.
+
+Dear . . . . . . me!
+A mopoke in a tree!
+It jarred me so, I didn't know
+Whatever it could be.
+But come along; creep along;
+Soon we shall be missed.
+They'll get a scare and wonder where
+We--Hush! . . . . . . Hist!
+
+Ssh! . . . . . . Soft!
+I've told you oft and oft
+We should not stray so far away
+Without a moon aloft.
+
+Oo! . . . . . . Scat!
+Goodness! What was that?
+Upon my word, it's quite absurd,
+It's only just a cat.
+But come along; haste along;
+Soon we'll have to rush,
+Or we'll be late and find the gate
+Is--Hist! . . . . . . Hush!
+
+(Kok!. . . . . . Korrock!)
+Oh! I've had a shock!
+I hope and trust it's only just
+A frog behind a rock.
+
+Shoo! . . . . . . Shoo!
+We've had enough of you;
+Scaring folk just for a joke
+Is not the thing to do.
+But come along, slip along--
+Isn't it a lark
+Just to roam so far from home
+On--Hist! . . . . . . Hark!
+
+Look! . . . . . . See!
+Shining through the tree,
+The window-light is glowing bright
+To welcome you and me.
+
+Shout! . . . . . . Shout!
+There's someone round about,
+And through the door I see some more
+And supper all laid out.
+Now, run! Run! Run!
+Oh, we've had such splendid fun--
+Through the park in the dark,
+As brave as anyone.
+
+Laughed, we did, and chaffed, we did,
+And whistled all the way,
+And we're home again! Home again!
+Hip . . . . . . Hooray!
+
+<BR><A name=item-20></A>
+
+
+BIRD SONG
+
+I am friendly with the sparrow
+Though his mind is rather narrow
+ And his manners--well, the less we say the better.
+But as day begins to peep,
+When I hear his cheery "Cheep"
+ I am ready to admit I am his debtor
+
+I delight in red-browed finches
+And all birds of scanty inches.
+ Willie wagtail is a pleasant bird, and coy.
+All the babblers, chats and wrens,
+Tits and robins, and their hens,
+ Are my very special friends, and bring me joy.
+
+<BR><A name=item-21></A>
+
+
+THE MUSIC OF YOUR VOICE
+
+A vase upon the mantelpiece,
+ A ship upon the sea,
+A goat upon a mountain-top
+ Are much the same to me;
+But when you mention melon jam,
+ Or picnics by the creek,
+Or apple pies, or pantomimes,
+ I love to hear you speak.
+
+The date of Magna Charta or
+ The doings of the Dutch,
+Or capes, or towns, or verbs, or nouns
+ Do not excite me much;
+But when you mention motor rides--
+ Down by the sea for choice
+Or chasing games, or chocolates,
+ I love to hear your voice.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-30.jpg"></P><BR><A
+name=item-22></A><PRE>
+
+THE BOY WHO RODE INTO THE SUNSET
+
+Once upon a time--it was not so very long ago, either--a little boy,
+named Neville, lived with his people in a house which was almost in
+the country. That is to say, it was just at the edge of the city; and
+at the back of the house was a rather large hill, which was quite
+bald.
+
+Neville, who was fond of playing by himself, would often wander to the
+top of the bald hill; and if he stood right on top of it and looked
+one way, toward the East, he could see right over the city, with all
+its tall buildings and domes and spires and smoking chimneys. But
+looking the other way, to the West, he could see for miles over the
+beautiful country, with its green fields and orchards and white roads
+and little farm houses.
+
+One evening Neville was playing alone on the top of the hill when he
+noticed that one of the very finest sunsets he had ever seen was just
+coming on. The sky in the West, away over the broad country lands, was
+filled with little clouds of all sorts and shapes, and they were just
+beginning to take on the most wonderful colours.
+
+Neville had often before amused himself with watching clouds and the
+strange shapes into which they changed themselves--sometimes like
+great mountain ranges, sometimes like sea-waves, and very often like
+elephants and lions and seals and all manner of interesting things of
+that sort. But never before had he been able to make out so many
+animal shapes in the clouds. The sky was almost as good as a Zoo.
+There were kangaroos and elephants and a hen with chickens and
+wallabies and rabbits and a funny man with large ears and all sorts of
+other peculiar shapes.
+
+The sun was sinking behind a distant range of hills, where a golden
+light shone out as if through a gateway. It was so much like a great
+golden gateway that Neville fell to wondering what might be found on
+the other side of it.
+
+Suddenly, right in the middle of all the coloured clouds, he saw one
+little cloud which was perfectly white, and, as he watched it, he
+noticed that it seemed to be shaped like a small horse. A very small
+horse it seemed at that distance; but, as Neville gazed, it grew
+bigger and bigger, just as if it were coming toward him very fast, and
+he was almost certain he could see its legs moving.
+
+That startled him a little, and so he rubbed his eyes to make sure
+that they were not playing him tricks.
+
+When he looked again he was more startled than ever; for the little
+white cloud was no longer a cloud, but a little white horse in real
+earnest. Besides, it had just left the sky and was galloping down the
+mountain range which he could see away in the West.
+
+In two minutes it had left the range, and was coming across the fields
+towards him, jumping the fences, dodging under the trees, and racing
+across the plain with its white mane and tail tossing as it came. It
+seemed to be making straight for him.
+
+He was not really frightened--you must not think that about him--but
+he was just beginning to wonder if it were not nearly time to go home
+to dinner, when he noticed that the white horse had stopped, just at
+the foot of the bald hill. It was looking up at him, tossing its head
+and pawing the ground--the most beautiful white horse that he had ever
+seen, even in a circus. Then it appeared to get over its excitement
+and began to trot quietly up the hill toward him.
+
+I do not think anyone would have blamed Neville if he had decided then
+to go home to dinner at once. But he was rather a brave boy, and he
+was certainly very curious, so he just stood still and waited.
+
+And here is where the most wonderful part of the story begins. The
+white horse trotted up to Neville and spoke to him. That would
+surprise most people; and Neville was certainly as much surprised as
+anyone else would have been.
+
+"What are you frightened of?" asked the white horse in a loud voice.
+
+Now, Neville WAS just a little frightened by this time; but he was not
+going to show it, so he just said, "Who's frightened?"
+
+"YOU'RE frightened," said the white horse, louder than ever. "You're
+only a timid little boy. I thought when I saw you in the distance that
+you were one of the plucky ones; but I was mistaken. You're just a
+little cowardly-custard."
+
+"You'd better be careful who you're talking to," said Neville,
+suddenly losing his fear. (Little boys do not always talk good
+grammar; otherwise he would have said "whom" not "who.") He hated to
+be called a "cowardly-custard." "You'd better be careful, or I'll give
+you a bang!"
+
+"Ah ha!" cried the white horse. "Very brave all at once, aren't you?
+All the same, you're afraid to come near and stroke me."
+
+"But I don't want to stroke you," said Neville.
+
+"I thought not," replied the white horse. "I thought not, the moment I
+got close to you. You're one of the frightened ones, and I've been
+wasting my time."
+
+"Who's frightened?" said Neville again.
+
+"You asked that before," replied the white horse, "and I told you. If
+you're not frightened, come along and stroke me. There's nothing to be
+afraid of."
+
+So Neville walked right up to the white horse and stroked his
+shoulder. And at once he felt that he had been foolish to hold back.
+For of all the smooth, soft, silky coats he had ever stroked, that of
+the white horse was certainly the smoothest, and the softest, and the
+silkiest. He felt that he could go on stroking it for hours.
+
+"There now," said the white horse in a voice as soft and silky as his
+coat. "There was nothing to be afraid of, was there? And I think that
+perhaps I was mistaken about you. I rather think you might be one of
+those daring boys that one reads about in stories. What about jumping
+on my back for a little ride?"
+
+Neville ceased to stroke the white horse and drew back a little.
+
+"I'm afraid they'll be expecting me home for dinner," he said. "I'm
+very pleased indeed to have met you." Neville was always a polite
+little boy.
+
+"The very thing!" cried the white horse. "Jump on my back and I'll
+take you home. You liked stroking me, didn't you? Well that's nothing
+to the ride you will enjoy--simply nothing. Why, all the boldest
+riders in the world would give their ears just for one little ride on
+my back. Now then! One, two, three, and up you go!"
+
+Then before Neville quite knew what he was doing, he made a little run
+and leapt up astride of the white horse.
+
+"I live just over there," said Neville, pointing towards his home.
+
+But before he could say "knife", or even "scissors" (supposing he had
+wished to say either of these words), the white horse laughed a nasty
+hollow laugh, sprang upwards from the ground, and was soaring through
+the air toward the dying sunset, right away from home and dinner.
+
+Neville clung on tightly, for he was so high above the earth that to
+fall off would mean the end of him. And far beneath him he saw the
+green fields and the white road, which now seemed like a mere thread.
+
+"That's not fair! Whoa back! Whoa back!" he shouted to the white
+horse; but the white horse made no reply. Indeed, he seemed suddenly
+not so much like a white horse as like a white cloud shaped like a
+horse, and Neville saw that he no longer sat upon the horse's silky
+coat, but upon something soft and downy like a white fleece, and it
+was slightly damp. Then he knew that he was riding upon a cloud; and,
+as it was quite absurd to go on talking to a cloud, he ceased to cry
+out. He just sat tight and wondered what would happen next.
+
+He was high over a farm-house now: one that he used to see from the
+bald hill. He knew it by the tall pine-trees that grew round it; and
+down in the farm-yard he saw a man with a bucket going out to feed the
+calves. Neville called loudly to him, but the man did not even look
+up. Now he was far beyond that farm-house and above an orchard, where
+he saw the fruit-trees standing in straight rows; and a few seconds
+later the mountain range was beneath him, and Neville knew that the
+cloud that looked like a horse was making straight for the golden
+gateway, which was now glowing dully in a grey sky. He was riding into
+the sunset.
+
+Swiftly as the wind that drove it, the Cloud Horse drifted over the
+mountain range. There was a sudden glow of golden light all about him,
+and then a flash of colour so wonderful that Neville could not bear to
+look. He closed his eyes, and, as he did so, he felt that the Cloud
+Horse had come to a halt at last.
+
+So Neville sat upon the cloud, not daring to open his eyes for quite a
+long time. When at last he did look again he almost fainted with the
+wonder of it. He was inside the sunset.
+
+But scarcely had he begun to enjoy the wonderful sight, when he was
+startled by the sound of a funny, shrill little voice close by his
+side. Looking down, he saw a strange little man, no taller than a
+walking-stick, and dressed from top to toe in golden-yellow clothes.
+"My stars!" said the wee yellow man. "How did YOU manage to get in
+here? Don't you know this is private?"
+
+"I'm very sorry," said Neville, "but I couldn't help it. The Cloud
+Horse brought me, you know."
+
+"Ah!" said the wee yellow man. "He tricked you, did he? He's much too
+playful, that Cloud Horse; and, I must say, he's put you in a pretty
+fix."
+
+"Excuse me," said Neville, "but do you mind telling me who you are?"
+
+"I?" cried the little yellow man. "Why, I'm the Last Sunbeam, of
+course. I thought you knew that. My job, you know, is to shut up the
+show when the sunset is over. And it's pretty hard work, I can tell
+you, because I've got to keep on doing it all round the earth every
+few minutes or so. And it gets very tiresome at times. Would you
+believe it? I've never seen a dawn or a bright mid-day in all my
+life--just sunsets all the time. Sunsets for breakfast, sunsets for
+dinner, sunsets for supper. And if I make the tiniest little slip, the
+head scene-shifter is down on me like a ton of bricks."
+
+"Goodness me!" said Neville. "I didn't know you had scene-shifters
+here." Neville had been to see pantomimes, and therefore knew what a
+scene-shifter was.
+
+"Then how do you think we shift the scenes?" cried the wee yellow man
+rather crossly. Then he suddenly became very busy about nothing, as he
+whispered, "Look out! Here's the head scene-shifter coming now."
+
+Looking back, Neville saw, coming towards them, a man with very large
+ears. He was not a nice-looking man, and he was extremely like the
+cloud man that Neville had sometimes seen in the sky when he went to
+look at the sunset from the bald hill.
+
+"Now then! Now then!" roared the man with the large ears. "Move
+yourself there, Goldie! We shut up the show here in a few minutes, and
+open at once on the next range. See that you have that curtain down on
+time."
+
+"Certainly, sir," replied the little yellow man very humbly.
+
+Then the man with the large ears noticed Neville for the first time.
+He frowned darkly, and his big ears seemed to flap with annoyance.
+
+"Who is this on our Cloud Horse?" he roared in his great angry voice.
+
+"Just a little boy," said the yellow man--for Neville was far too
+frightened to speak. "Just a little boy that the Cloud Horse has been
+playing tricks on. I think he'd like to be getting home--just over by
+the bald hill, if you don't mind, sir."
+
+"Certainly not!" shouted the man with the large ears. "The Cloud Horse
+is not to go out there again to-night, nor the silly little boy
+either. I'm not going to have the sunset upset by any such silly
+nonsense. You mind what I say and attend to your work."
+
+And, without another glance at Neville, the man with the large ears
+strode off to arrange for the sunset on the next range, miles and
+miles away.
+
+Neville gazed at the wee yellow man hopelessly, and the wee yellow man
+gazed at Neville, and neither spoke a word until the man with the
+large ears was well out of the way. Then the Last Sunbeam grew quite
+cheerful again.
+
+"Well," said he, "you heard what the head scene-shifter said. You
+certainly can't go home by the way you came. The only thing for you to
+do is to go round. You'll just about have time to do it, if you
+hurry."
+
+"Go round?" repeated Neville in a puzzled voice. "Go round what, round
+where?"
+
+"Round the world, of course," replied the little yellow man.
+
+"Round the world?" cried Neville. "Why you must be making fun of me,
+and I think that is very unkind."
+
+"Not a bit of it," laughed the little yellow man. "You need not make
+such as fuss about it. Why, I go round the world once every day with
+the sunset. You have only to go a bit faster so as to do it in a few
+minutes, and with the Cloud Horse to help you that's easily managed.
+Don't you worry about the Cloud Horse. He has got to do just whatever I
+tell him. Now, excuse me for one moment and I'll give you full
+directions."
+
+With that the wee yellow man went behind a pink cloud and came
+back with a beautiful blue flower in his hand.
+
+"This," he said, handing the flower to Neville, "is a Sky Flower. It
+is made entirely out of a genuine piece of sky, and it is a
+talisman--that's a longer word for charm, you know--which takes you
+free round the world. The one thing you have to remember is that you
+mustn't, on any account, lose that flower until you get home again.
+Now, just exactly what you have to do is to travel West and race round
+the world until you catch up with this evening again. It is quite
+simple."
+
+"Simple!" cried Neville. "Why I don't understand it at all."
+
+"Dear me!" said the wee yellow man rather impatiently, "you are very
+dense. Now listen carefully. The world, you know, turns round from
+West to East, and that makes it seem as if the sun is going round the
+world from East to West. Very well. So what you have to do is to ride
+West upon the Cloud horse much faster than the sun appears to travel,
+and catch him up again before he gets well away from here. The Cloud
+horse is in good condition, and you should easily do it in a few
+minutes."
+
+"A few minutes!" gasped Neville.
+
+"Keep quiet and listen," snapped the wee yellow man. "A few miles West
+from here you will come into broad daylight. That will be afternoon.
+After that you will meet mid-day, and, passing that, you will reach
+the place where it is only dawn. That's about half-way round the
+earth. Show the Sky Flower to the porter of the Dawn, and he will let
+you through. Then you get to the half of the world where it is night,
+and you must race round that till you reach the place where it is only
+evening. That will be THIS evening, somewhere about here, for you will
+have taken only a few minutes altogether. And when you see your own
+home or the bald hill again, grasp the Sky Flower tightly in your
+hand, jump off the Cloud horse, and you will float gracefully down to
+the earth. It won't hurt you. Then you can go home, and I hope you
+will not be late for dinner."
+
+"But," began Neville, "I can't understand--"
+
+"My time is valuable," said the wee yellow man, as he shook hands.
+"Good-bye, and a pleasant journey." With that he smacked the Cloud
+Horse smartly on the flank, and in a moment it was racing into the
+West at a most terrific pace.
+
+Of course, now that aeroplanes have been invented, flying is not
+thought so wonderful as once it was. But loafing along through the air
+in a biplane or a monoplane at eighty or a hundred miles an hour is a
+very tame business when you compare it with racing the day round the
+world on a Cloud horse. And Neville is very probably the only person
+who has ever done that yet.
+
+Almost before he knew what had happened, he had left evening far
+behind and was riding in broad daylight. The cloud Horse had ridden
+high in the air, and Neville saw the broad country, with plains and
+hills and forest lands, stretched far beneath him. An instant later,
+and the land was no longer below him, but the wide sea, sparkling in
+brilliant sunlight.
+
+Before he had time to notice very much he had reached mid-day, high
+over a strange foreign land, and was racing through the morning toward
+the dawn. So quickly did he go that there was little chance of seeing
+anything clearly; but he had glimpses of many strange sights. Many
+ships he saw upon the sea--small ships and stately steamers crawling
+over the ocean like strange water-beetles. Once, as the Cloud Horse
+drifted low, Neville saw a beautiful sailing-ship, with all sails set,
+and strange-looking men upon the deck. They looked very like pirates,
+and perhaps they were; but Neville had no time to make sure, for the
+very next minute he was over a wild land where he saw a horde of black
+men, with spears and clubs, hunting an elephant through a clearing in
+a great jungle. As he looked, the elephant turned to charge the
+hunters; but what happened then Neville did not see, for in a moment
+more he was above a great city with crowds of people in the
+streets--people dressed in strange, bright-coloured clothes--and there
+were bells ringing and whistles blowing. Then a great desert spread
+beneath him, with no living thing in sight but a great tawny lion
+prowling over the sand. Then came the sea again, and more ships; and
+the light began to grow dim, for he was nearly half-way round the
+earth, and was approaching the dawn.
+
+Dimmer grew the light, and dimmer yet, just as though evening were
+coming--and before him, Neville saw the dawn like a silvery gateway in
+the sky. Straight toward it the Cloud Horse rushed, and stopped so
+suddenly that Neville almost fell off.
+
+"What's all this? What's all this?" cried a small voice; and Neville
+saw beside the silver gateway, a little man dressed from top to toe in
+silver grey. It was the Porter of the Dawn, sometimes called the First
+Sunbeam.
+
+Before Neville could answer, the little grey man had caught sight of
+the Sky Flower.
+
+"Ah, you have the talisman," said he. "Pass in! and don't stop to
+gossip, because I'm very busy this morning. A pleasant journey," he
+added as he smacked the cloud horse on the shoulder; and in an instant
+Neville had passed through the dawn and plunged into the night.
+
+It was a dark night, with no moon, for the sky was overcast with dense
+clouds. Above these the Cloud horse flew, and overhead Neville saw the
+rushing stars, and below only the blackness of heavy clouds. But more
+often the Cloud horse flew low, and then there was little to be seen.
+By the lights of moving ships Neville knew that sometimes he was above
+the sea. Sometimes twinkling lights in towns or solitary farms, or the
+sudden blaze of a great city told him that the land was beneath him.
+Once, through the blackness, he saw a great forest fire upon an
+island, and the light of it lit up the sea, and showed the natives
+crowded upon the beach and in the shallows, and some making off in
+canoes.
+
+Then darkness swallowed the Cloud Horse again, and the blazing island
+was left far behind.
+
+After that, Neville began to feel a little drowsy. Perhaps he did
+sleep a little, for the next thing he saw was a faint light in the sky
+before him, as though the dawn were coming. But he knew it must be the
+evening, because he was coming back to the place from which he had
+started, and was catching up with the sun. You see, he had only been
+gone a few minutes.
+
+The Cloud Horse flew very low now; and rapidly the darkness grew less.
+Then, long before he expected it, Neville saw the roof of his own home
+below him. He could see the garden in the twilight and his own dog
+sniffing about among the trees as though in search of him.
+
+Neville began to think about jumping now, and he was rather nervous.
+He might land softly and he might not. He only had the wee yellow
+man's word for that.
+
+Then, to his horror, he saw that they had passed his home and were
+over the bald hill. There was no time to lose. The Cloud Horse was
+taking him into the sunset again, and, if he did, what would the head
+scene-shifter say then?
+
+So, grasping the Sky Flower very tightly, Neville closed his eyes and
+jumped. He half expected to fall quickly and be dashed to pieces upon
+the earth; but, instead, he floated in the air like a feather, swaying
+and drifting, and slowly sinking all the time towards the ground. It
+was a very pleasant sensation indeed.
+
+The bald hill was beneath him as he came slowly down, down, down.
+
+He could see the Cloud Horse--now little more than a small white
+speck--rushing on to catch the sunset. And still he sank down ever so
+slowly towards the top of the bald hill.
+
+His little dog had caught sight of him now, and came rushing out the
+gate and up the bald hill, barking loudly. And he kept on sinking
+nearer to the earth, down, down, nearer and nearer--and then, quite
+suddenly, he seemed to forget everything.
+
+The next thing Neville remembered was feeling something wet and warm
+upon his cheek. He opened his eyes and saw that the little dog was
+licking his face. Sitting up, he looked about him. He was in the grass
+on the top of the bald hill; night was very near, and the first star
+was just beginning to twinkle.
+
+Then, quite suddenly, Neville remembered the Cloud horse and the
+little yellow man and the little silver man and the head scene-shifter
+and the wonderful journey and all the rest of it.
+
+"Well, what a remarkable dream," said Neville, stretching his arms.
+And, as he did so, the Sky Flower fell from his hand.
+
+So it was not a dream after all; for, if it was, how could he explain
+that Sky Flower? He picked it up and carried it very tenderly, as he
+set off home to dinner, his little dog trotting at his heels.
+
+"What a beautiful flower!" said Neville's mother when he got home.
+"Where ever did you get it?"
+
+"It is a piece of the genuine sky," said Neville proudly, as he gave
+it to her.
+
+His mother smiled at him as she said, "That is a very nice thing to
+say, and it certainly does look like a little piece of the sky. But,
+of course, it couldn't possibly be a real piece."
+
+Then Neville knew that if he were to tell the story of his wonderful
+ride, and tried to explain that he had been right around the world
+since since he went out to play, his parents would find it very, very
+hard to believe. So he said nothing, but ate a very good dinner.
+
+But Neville's mother put the flower in a vase upon the mantel; and to
+this day it is still there, as fresh and bright as ever. It will not
+fade. Neville's mother thinks that is a very strange and wonderful
+thing. And so it is.
+
+Since that day, when Neville goes to the top of the bald hill to watch
+a sunset, he is almost sure that, just as the golden light is fading,
+he can see a little yellow man by the gateway; and it seems to him
+that the little yellow man waves a cheery greeting. But, whether this
+is so or not, Neville always waves back; and he feels very happy to
+think that he has a good friend inside the sunset.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-23></A><PRE>
+
+THE TRAM-MAN
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-31.jpg"></P><PRE>
+I'd like to be a Tram-man, and ride about all day,
+Calling out, "Fares, please!" in quite a 'ficious way,
+With pockets full of pennies which I'd make the people pay.
+But in the hottest days I'd take my tram down to the Bay;
+And when I saw the nice cool sea I'd shout "Hip, hip, hooray!"
+But I wouldn't be a Tram-man if . . . .
+ I couldn't stop and play.
+ Would you?
+
+<BR><A name=item-24></A>
+
+
+THE AXE-MAN
+
+High on the hills, where the tall trees grow,
+There lives an axeman that I know.
+From his little hut by a ferny creek,
+Day after day, week after week,
+He goes each morn with his shining axe,
+Trudging along by the forest tracks;
+And he chops and he chops till the daylight goes--
+High on the hills, where the blue-gum grows.
+
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+There's a log to move and a branch to lop.
+Now to the felling! His sharp axe bites
+Into a tree on the forest heights,
+And scarce for a breath does the axeman stop--
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+Bell-birds watch him; and in the fern
+Wallabies listen awhile, and turn
+Back through the bracken, and off they hop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+Patient and tireless, blow on blow
+The axeman swings as the minutes go;
+While the echoes ring from the mountain-top.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+
+Round about him the rabbits play,
+Skipping and scampering all the day,
+And the sweet young grass by the logs they crop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+
+Crimson parrots above him climb,
+Chattering, chattering all the time,
+As down from the branches the twigs they drop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! Chop!)
+Steadily, surely, on he goes,
+Shaking the tree with his mighty blows:
+There's never a pause and there's never a stop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+
+Out from the bush beyond is heard
+The swaggering song of the butcher-bird
+Seeking a joint for his butcher's shop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+Deeper and deeper the cut creeps in,
+While the parrots shriek with a deafening din,
+And the chips fly out with a flip and a flop.
+(Chip! Chop! Chip! Chop!)
+Yellow robins come flocking round,
+Watching the chips as they fall to ground,
+Darting to catch the grubs that drop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+
+The blows come quicker. The axe-biade hums,
+Stand well back, there, before she comes!
+Hark! How the splinters crack and pop--
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+Listen! Listen! She's creaking now!
+Look, high up, at that trembling bough!
+Another second, and down she'll smash,
+Shaking the earth with a mighty crash;
+Look at her! Look at her! (Chip! Chop!
+Chip! . . . . . . . .Chip!)
+ Wee--E--E--E--E--E---
+ FLOP!
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-25></A><PRE>
+
+THE DROVERS
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-32a.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Out across the spinifex, out across the sand,
+Out across the saltbush to Never Never land
+ That's the way the drovers go, jogging down the track--
+ That's the way the drovers go. But how do they come back?
+Back across the saltbush from Never Never land.
+Back across the spinifex, back across the sand.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-32b.jpg"></P><BR><A
+name=item-26></A><PRE>
+
+THE LONG ROAD HOME
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-33.jpg"></P><PRE>
+When I go back from Billy's place I always have to roam
+The mazy road, the crazy road that leads the long way home.
+Ma always says, "Why don't you come through Mr Donkin's land?
+The footbridge track will bring you back." Ma doesn't understand.
+I cannot go that way, you know, because of Donkin's dog;
+So I set forth and travel north, and cross the fallen log.
+
+Last week, when I was coming by, that log had lizards in it;
+And you can't say I stop to play if I just search a minute.
+I look around upon the ground and, if there are no lizards,
+I go right on and reach the turn in front of Mrs Blizzard's.
+I do not seek to cross the creek, because it's deep and floody,
+And Ma would be annoyed with me if I came home all muddy.
+
+Perhaps I throw a stone or so at Mrs Blizzard's tank,
+Because it's great when I aim straight to hear the stone go "Plank!"
+Then west I wend from Blizzard's Bend, and not a moment wait,
+Except, perhaps, at Mr Knapp's, to swing upon his gate.
+So up the hill I go, until I reach the little paddock
+That Mr Jones at present owns and rents to Mr Craddock.
+
+For boys my size the sudden rise is quite a heavy pull,
+And yet I fear a short-cut here because of Craddock's bull;
+So I just tease the bull till he's as mad as he can get,
+And then I face the corner place that's been so long to let.
+It's very well for Ma to tell about my dawdling habits.
+What would you do, suppose you knew the place was thick with rabbits?
+
+I do not stay for half a day, as Ma declares I do.
+No, not for more than half-an-hour--perhaps an hour--or two.
+Then down the drop I run, slip-slop, where all the road is slithy.
+And have to go quite close, you know, to Mr Horner's smithy.
+A moment I might tarry by the fence to watch them hammer,
+And, I must say, learn more that way than doing sums and grammar.
+
+And, if I do sometimes climb through, I do not mean to linger.
+Though I did stay awhile the day Bill Homer burst his finger.
+I just stand there to see the pair bang some hot iron thing
+And watch Bill Horner swing the sledge and hit the anvil--Bing!
+(For Mr Horner and his son are great big brawny fellows:
+Both splendid chaps!) And then, perhaps, they let me blow the bellows.
+
+A while I stop beside the shop, and talk to Mr Horner;
+Then off I run, and race like fun around by Duggan's Corner.
+It's getting late, and I don't wait beside the creek a minute,
+Except to stop, maybe, and drop a few old pebbles in it.
+A few yards more, and here's the store that's kept by Mr Whittle--
+And you can't say I waste the day if I 'ust wait. . . a little.
+
+One day, you know, a year ago, a man gave me a penny,
+And Mr Whittle sold me sweets (but not so very many).
+You never know your luck, and so I look to see what's new
+In Mr Whittle's window. There's a peppermint or two,
+Some buttons and tobacco (Mr Whittle calls it "baccy"),
+And fish in tins, and tape, and pins. . . . And then a voice calls, "Jacky!"
+
+"I'm coming, Ma. I've been so far-around by Duggan's Corner.
+I had to stay awhile to say 'Good day' to Mr Horner.
+I feel so fagged; I've tramped and dragged through mud and over logs, Ma--
+I could not go short-cuts, you know, because of bulls and dogs, Ma.
+The creek, Ma? Why, it's very high! You don't call that a gutter?
+Bill Horner chews tobacco, Ma. . . . I'd like some bread and butter."
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-27></A><PRE>
+
+THE BAND
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-34.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Hey, there! Listen awhile! Listen awhile, and come.
+Down in the street there are marching feet, and I hear the beat of a drum.
+Bim! Boom!! Out of the room! Pick up your hat and fly!
+Isn't it grand? The band! The band! The band is marching by!
+
+Oh, the clarinet is the finest yet, and the uniforms are gay.
+ Tah, rah! We don't go home--
+ Oom, pah! We won't go home--
+Oh, we shan't go home, and we can't go home when the band begins to play.
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-35.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Oh, see them swinging along, swinging along the street!
+Left, right! buttons so bright, jackets and caps so neat.
+Ho, the Fire Brigade, or a dress parade of the Soldier-men is grand;
+But everyone, for regular fun, wants a Big-Brass-Band.
+
+The slide-trombone is a joy alone, and the drummer! He's a treat!
+ So, Rackety-rumph! We don't go home--
+ Boom, Bumph! We won't go home--
+Oh, we shan't go home, and we can't go home while the band is in the street.
+ Tooral-ooral, Oom-pah!
+ The band is in the street!
+
+<BR><A name=item-28></A>
+
+
+BESSIE AND THE BUNYIP
+
+ Bessie met a bunyip down along the track,
+In his hand a billy and a swag upon his back.
+ And you will hardly believe it, but when Bessie shouted,"Shoo!"
+ He turned a double somersault and went quite blue.
+
+<BR><A name=item-29></A>
+
+
+GOOD ENOUGH
+
+I do not think there ever was,
+ Or ever will, or ever could be,
+A little girl or little boy
+ As good as she or as he should be.
+
+But still, I think, you will agree,
+ Though perfect very, very few are,
+They're not so bad when "pretty good"--
+ That's just about as good as you are.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-30></A><PRE>
+
+THE PORTER
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-36.jpg"></P><PRE>
+I'd like to be a porter, and always on the run,
+Calling out, "Stand aside!" and asking leave of none.
+Shoving trucks on people's toes, and having splendid fun,
+Slamming all the carriage doors and locking every one--
+And, when they asked to be let in, I'd say, "It can't be done."
+ But I wouldn't be a porter if. . .
+ The luggage weighed a ton.
+ Would you?
+
+<BR><A name=item-31></A>
+
+
+GROWING UP
+
+Little Tommy Tadpole began to weep and wail,
+For little Tommy Tadpole had lost his little tail;
+ And his mother didn't know him as he wept upon a log,
+ For he wasn't Tommy Tadpole, but Mr. Thomas Frog.
+
+<BR><A name=item-32></A>
+
+
+THE UNSOCIABLE WALLABY
+
+Willie spied a wallaby hopping through the fern--
+Here a jump, here a thump, there a sudden turn.
+ Willie called the wallaby, begging him to stop,
+ But he went among the wattles with a
+ flip,
+ flap,
+ flop!
+
+<BR><A name=item-32a></A>
+
+* * *
+
+I wonder whether, all together, you and I and father
+Could eat a bun that weighs a ton. I'd like to try it, rather.
+
+I want to know why roosters crow at dawning of the day.
+Is it because they cannot think of something else to say?
+
+* * *
+
+<BR><A name=item-33></A>
+
+
+THE SONG OF THE SULKY STOCKMAN
+
+Come, let us sing with a right good ring
+ (Sing hey for lifting lay, sing hey!)
+Of any old, sunny old, silly old thing.
+ (Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
+The sun shone brightly overhead,
+And the shearers stood by the shearing shed;
+But "The run wants rain," the stockman said
+(Sing di-dum, wattle-gum, Narrabori Ned.
+For a lifting lay sing hey!)
+
+The colts were clipped and the sheep were shorn
+ (Sing hey for a lilting lay, sing hey!)
+But the stockman stood there all forlorn.
+ (Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
+The rails were up and the gate was tied,
+And the big black bull was safe inside;
+But "The wind's gone West!" the stockman sighed
+(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, rally for a ride.
+ For a lifting lay sing hey!)
+
+The cook came out as the clock struck one
+ (Sing hey for a lilting lay, sing hey!)
+And the boundary rider got his gun.
+ (Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
+He fired it once at an old black crow;
+But the shot went wide, for he aimed too low;
+And the stockman said, "Fat stock is low."
+(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, Jerridiiii Joe.
+ For a lifting lay sing hey!)
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-37.jpg"></P><PRE>
+They spread their swags in the gum-tree's shade
+ (Sing hey for a lilting lay, sing hey!)
+For the work was done and the cheques were paid.
+ (Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
+The overseer rode in at three,
+But his horse pulled back and would not gee,
+And the stockman said, "We're up a tree!"
+(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, Johnny-cake for tea.
+ For a lilting lay sing hey!)
+
+The sun sank down and the stars shone out
+ (Sing hey for a lifting lay, sing hey!)
+And the old book-keeper moped about.
+ (Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
+The dingo wailed to the mopoke's call,
+The crazy colt stamped in his stall;
+But the stockman groaned, "it's bunk for all."
+(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, wattle-gum, wattle-gum,
+ Hey for a backblock day!
+ Sing hey!
+ Sing hey for a lifting lay!)
+
+<BR><A name=item-34></A>
+
+
+OUR COW
+
+Down by the sliprails stands our cow
+ Chewing, chewing, chewing,
+She does not care what folks out there
+ In the great, big world are doing.
+She sees the small cloud-shadows pass
+ And green grass shining under.
+If she does think, what does she think
+ About it all, I wonder?
+
+She sees the swallows skimming by
+ Above the sweet young clover,
+The light reeds swaying in the wind
+ And tall trees bending over.
+Far down the track she hears the crack
+ of bullock-whips, and raving
+Of angry men where, in the sun,
+ Her fellow-beasts are slaving.
+
+Girls, we are told, can scratch and scold,
+ And boys will fight and wrangle,
+And big, grown men, just now and then,
+ Fret o'er some fingle-fangle,
+Vexing the earth with grief or mirth,
+ Longing, rejoicing, rueing--
+But by the sliprails stands our cow,
+ Chewing.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-35></A><PRE>
+
+THE TEACHER
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-38.jpg"></P><PRE>
+I'd like to be a teacher, and have a clever brain,
+Calling out, "Attention, please!" and "Must I speak in vain?"
+I'd be quite strict with boys and girls whose minds I had to train,
+And all the books and maps and things I'd carefully explain;
+I'd make then learn the dates of kings, and all the capes of Spain;
+ But I wouldn't be a teacher if. . .
+ I couldn't use the cane.
+ Would you?
+
+<BR><A name=item-36></A>
+
+
+THE SPOTTED HEIFERS
+
+Mr Jeremiah Jeffers
+Owned a pair of spotted heifers
+These he sold for two pounds ten
+To Mr Robert Raymond Wren
+
+Who reared them in the lucerne paddocks
+Owned by Mr Martin Maddox,
+And sold them, when they grew to cows,
+To Mr Donald David Dowse.
+
+A grazier, Mr Egbert Innes,
+Bought them then for twenty guineas,
+Milked the cows, and sold the milk
+To Mr Stephen Evan Silk.
+
+Who rents a butter factory
+From Mr Laurence Lampard-Lee.
+Here, once a week, come for his butter
+The grocer, Mr Roland Rutter,
+
+Who keeps a shop in Sunny Street
+Next door to Mr Peter Peat.
+He every afternoon at two
+Sent his fair daughter, Lucy Loo,
+
+To Mr Rutter's shop to buy
+Such things as were not priced too high,
+Especially a shilling tin
+Of "Fuller's Food for Folk Too Thin."
+
+This food was bought for Lucy Loo--
+A girl of charming manners, who
+Was much too pale and much too slight
+To be a very pleasant sight.
+
+When Lucy Loo beheld the butter
+Stocked by Mr Roland Rutter,
+She said, "I'll have a pound of that."
+She had it, and thenceforth grew fat.
+
+We now go back to Mr Jeffers,
+Who sold the pair of spotted heifers.
+He had a son, James Edgar John,
+A handsome lad to gaze upon,
+
+Who had now reached that time of life
+When young men feel they need a wife;
+But no young girl about the place
+Exactly had the kind of face
+
+That seemed to suit James Edgar John--
+A saddening thing to think upon,
+For he grew sad and sick of life
+Because he could not find a wife.
+
+One day young James was passing by
+(A look of sorrow in his eye)
+The shop of Mr Roland Rutter,
+When Lucy Loo came out with butter.
+
+At once James Edgar John said, "That
+Is just the girl for me! She's fat."
+He offered her his heart and hand
+And prospects of his father's land.
+
+The Reverend Saul Sylvester Slight
+Performed the simple marriage rite.
+The happy couple went their way,
+And lived and loved unto this day.
+
+Events cannot be far foreseen;
+And all ths joy might not have been
+If Mr Jeremiah Jeffers
+Had kept his pair of spotted heifers.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-37></A><PRE>
+
+TEA TALK
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-39.jpg"></P><PRE>
+'Excuse me if I sit on you,' the cup said to the saucer.
+ 'I fear I've been here all the afternoon.'
+'Spare excuses,' said the saucer; 'you have sat on me before, sir.'
+ 'Oh, I'll stir him up directly,' said the spoon.
+'Stop your clatter! Stop your clatter!' cried the bread-and-butter platter
+ 'Tittle-tattle!' sneered the tea-pot, with a shrug;
+'Now, the most important question is my chronic indigestion.'
+ 'Ah, you've taken too much tannin,' jeered the jug.
+'Hey, hey, hey!' sang the silver-plated tray,
+'It's time you had your faces washed. I've come to clear away!'
+
+<BR><A name=item-38></A>
+
+
+THE LOOKING-GLASS
+
+When I look into the looking glass
+ I'm always sure to see--
+No matter how I dodge about--
+ Me, looking out at me.
+
+I often wonder as I look,
+ And those strange features spy,
+If I, in there, think I'm as plain
+ As I, out here, think I.
+
+<BR><A name=item-39></A>
+
+
+WOOLLOOMOOLOO
+
+Here's a ridiculous riddle for you:
+ How many o's are there in Woolloomooloo?
+Two for the W, two for the m,
+ Four for the l's, and that's plenty for them.
+
+<BR><A name=item-39a></A>
+
+* * *
+
+I wonder what the Jacks have got to laugh and laugh about
+I'm sure the worms don't see the joke when Jacky digs them out.
+
+I wonder which is best: a rich plum-pudding stuffed with plums,
+Or lemon ice, or plain boiled rice, or long-division sums.
+
+* * *
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-40></A><PRE>
+
+THE BARBER
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-40.jpg"></P><PRE>
+I'd like to be a barber, and learn to shave and clip,
+Calling out, "Next please!" and pocketing my tip.
+All day I'd hear my scissors going, "Snip, Snip, Snip;"
+I'd lather people's faces, and their noses I would grip
+While I shaved most carefully along the upper lip.
+ But I wouldn't be a barber if . . .
+ The razor was to slip.
+ Would you?
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-41></A><PRE>
+
+FARMER JACK
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-41.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Old farmer Jack gazed on his wheat,
+ And feared the frost would nip it.
+Said he, "it's nearly seven feet--
+ I must begin to strip it."
+
+He stripped it with a stripper and
+ He bagged it with a bagger;
+The bags were all so lumpy that
+ They made the lumper stagger.
+
+The lumper staggered up the stack
+ Where he was told to stack it;
+And Jack was paid and put the cash
+ Inside his linen jacket.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-42></A><PRE>
+
+OLD BLACK JACKO
+
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-42.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Old Black Jacko
+ Smokes tobacco
+ In his little pipe of clay.
+Puff, puff, puff,
+He never has enough
+ Though he smokes it all day.
+
+But his lubra says, "Mine tink dat Jacky
+Him shmoke plenty too much baccy."
+
+<BR><A name=item-43></A>
+
+
+BIRD SONG
+
+I detest the Carrion Crow!
+(He's a raven, don't you know?)
+ He's a greedy glutton, also, and a ghoul,
+And his sanctimonious caw
+Rubs my temper on the raw.
+ He's a demon, and a most degraded fowl.
+
+I admire the pert Blue-wren
+And his dainty little hen--
+ Though she hasn't got a trace of blue upon her;
+But she's pleasing, and she's pretty,
+ And she sings a cheerful ditty;
+While her husband is a gentleman of honour.
+
+I despise the Pallid Cuckoo,
+A disreputable "crook" who
+ Shirks her duties for a lazy life of ease.
+I abhor her mournful call,
+Which is not a song at all
+ But a cross between a whimper and a wheeze.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-44></A><PRE>
+
+THE SAILOR
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-43.jpg"></P><PRE>
+I'd like to be a sailor--a sailor bold and bluff--
+Calling out, "Ship ahoy!" in manly tones and gruff.
+I'd learn to box the compass, and to reef and tack and luff;
+I'd sniff and snifff the briny breeze and never get enough.
+Perhaps I'd chew tobacco, or an old black pipe I'd puff,
+ But I wouldn't be a sailor if . . .
+ The sea was very rough.
+ Would you?
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-45></A><PRE>
+
+THE FAMINE
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-44.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!
+How many eggs did you get to-day?
+None in the manger, and none in the shed,
+None in the box where the chickens are fed,
+None in the tussocks and none in the tub,
+And only a little one out in the scrub.
+Oh, I say! Dumplings to-day.
+I fear that the hens must be laying away.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-46></A><PRE>
+
+THE FEAST
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-45.jpg"></P><PRE>
+Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!
+How many eggs did you get to-day?
+Two in the manger, and four in the shed,
+Six in the box where the chickens are fed,
+Two in the tussocks and ten in the tub,
+And nearly two dozen right out in the scrub.
+Hip, hooray! Pudding to-day!
+I think that the hens are beginning to lay.
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-47></A>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-46.jpg"></P><PRE>
+
+UPON THE ROAD TO ROCKABOUT
+
+Upon the road to Rockabout
+I came upon some sheep--
+A large and woolly flock about
+As wide as it was deep.
+
+I was about to turn about
+To ask the man to tell
+Some things I wished to learn about
+Both sheep and wool as well,
+
+When I beheld a rouseabout
+Who lay upon his back
+Beside a little house about
+A furlong from the track.
+
+I had a lot to talk about,
+And said to him "Good day."
+But he got up to walk about,
+And so I went away--
+
+<BR><A name=item-48></A>
+
+
+A CHANGE OF AIR
+
+Now, a man in Oodnadatta
+He grew fat, and he grew fatter,
+ Though he hardly had a thing to eat for dinner;
+While a man in Booboorowie
+Often sat and wondered how he
+ Could prevent himself from growing any thinner.
+
+So the man from Oodnadatta
+ He came down to Booboorowie,
+Where he rapidly grew flatter;
+ And the folk will tell you how he
+Urged the man from Booboorowie
+ To go up to Oodnadatta--
+Where he lived awhile, and now he
+ Is considerably fatter.
+
+<BR><A name=item-49></A>
+
+
+POLLY DIBBS
+
+Mrs Dibbs--Polly Dibbs,
+ Standing at a tub,
+Washing other people's clothes--
+ Rub-Rub-Rub.
+Poor, old, skinny arms
+ White with soapy foam--
+At night she takes her shabby hat
+ And goes off home.
+
+Mrs Dibbs--Polly Dibbs--
+ Is not very rich.
+She goes abroad all day to scrub,
+ And home at night to stitch.
+She wears her shabby hat awry,
+ Perched on a silly comb;
+And people laugh at Polly Dibbs
+ As she goes home.
+
+Mrs Dibbs--Mother Dibbs--
+ Growing very old,
+Says, "it's a hard world!"
+ And sniffs and drats the cold.
+She says it is a cruel world,
+ A weary world to roam.
+But God will smile on Polly Dibbs
+ When she goes Home.
+
+* * *
+<BR><A name=item-49a></A>
+
+I suspect the Kookaburra,
+For his methods are not thorough
+In his highly praised campaign against the snakes.
+And the small birds, one and all,
+Curse him for a cannibal--
+Though he certainly is cheerful when he wakes.
+
+* * *
+
+<BR><A name=item-50></A>
+
+
+LULLABY
+
+You are much too big to dandle,
+And I will not leave the candle.
+ Go to sleep.
+You are growing naughty, rather,
+And I'll have to speak to father.
+ Go to sleep!
+If you're good I shall not tell, then.
+Oh, a story? Very well, then.
+ Once upon a time, a king, named Crawley Creep,
+Had a very lovely daughter . . . .
+You don't want a drink of water!
+ Go to sleep! There! There! Go to sleep.
+
+* * *
+
+<BR><A name=item-50a></A>
+
+I wonder why I wear a tie. It is not warm to wear;
+But if I left it off someone would say it was not there.
+
+I wonder, if I took a whiff of father's pipe for fun,
+Would I be big and strong like him, or just his small, sick son?
+
+I wonder when our old white hen will know her squawk betrays her.
+I think she lets us find her eggs just so that we shall praise her.
+
+* * *
+
+<BR><A name=item-51></A>
+
+
+THE PUBLISHER
+
+I'd like to be a publisher, And publish massive tomes
+Written in a massive style by blokes with massive domes--
+Science books, and histories of Egypt's day and Rome's,
+Books of psycho-surgery to mine the minds of momes,
+And solemn pseudo-psychic stuff to tell where Topsy roams
+When her poor clay is put away beneath the spreading holms;
+Books about electrocuting little seeds with ohms
+To sternly show them how to grow in sands, and clays, and loams,
+And bravely burst infinitives, like angry agronomes;
+Books on breeding aeroplanes and airing aerodromes,
+On bees that buzz in bonnets and the kind that build the combs,
+Made plain with pretty pictures done in crimsons, mauves, and chromes;
+And diagrams to baulk the brain of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
+I'd set the scientists to work like superheated gnomes,
+And make them write and write and write until the printer foams
+And lino men, made "loony", go to psychopathic homes.
+I'd publish books, I would--large books on ants and antinomes
+And palimpsests and palinodes and pallid pallindromes:
+ But I wouldn't be a publisher if . . . .
+ I got many "pomes."
+ Would you?
+
+</PRE><BR><A name=item-52></A>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-47a.jpg"></P><PRE>
+
+GOOD NIGHT
+
+And so, Good Night. I'm rather tired.
+I hardly thought I'd be required
+ To draw a lot of pictures, too,
+ When I arranged to write for you.
+I found it hard, but did my best;
+And now I need a little rest.
+ If you are pleased, why, that's all right.
+ I'm rather tired. And so
+ GOOD NIGHT!
+
+</PRE>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-47b.jpg"></P>
+<P>&nbsp;</P>
+<P><IMG alt="" src="images/kids-48.jpg"><IMG alt=""
+src="images/kids-49.jpg"></P><BR><A name=item-53></A><PRE>
+This very charming gentleman, extremely old and gruff,
+He slowly shook his head and took a great big pinch of snuff,
+Then he spluttered and he muttered and he loudly shouted "Fie!
+To tear your books is wicked sir! and likewise all my eye!"
+I don't know what he meant by that. He had such piercing eyes.
+And, he said, "Mark--ME--boy! Books will make you wise."
+
+This very charming gentleman said, "Hum," and "Hoity, Toit!
+A book is not a building block, a cushion or a quoit.
+Soil your books and spoil your books? Is that the thing to do?
+Gammon, sir! and Spinach, sir! And Fiddle-faddle, too!"
+He blinked so quick, and thumped his stick, then gave me such a stare.
+And he said, "Mark--ME--boy! BOOKS--NEED--CARE!"
+
+</PRE>
+<H2>THE END</H2><PRE>
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book for Kids
+by C. J. (Clarence Michael James) Dennis
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+Project Gutenberg's A Book for Kids, by C. J. (Clarence Michael James) Dennis
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Book for Kids
+
+Author: C. J. (Clarence Michael James) Dennis
+
+Release Date: July 9, 2005 [EBook #16251]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK FOR KIDS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Colin Choat
+
+
+
+
+
+A Book for Kids by C J Dennis (1921)
+
+reissued as Roundabout (1935)
+
+
+
+A very charming gentleman, as old as old could be,
+Stared a while, and glared a while, and then he said to me:
+"Read your books, and heed your books, and put your books away,
+For you will surely need your books upon a later day."
+And then he wheezed and then he sneezed, and gave me such a look.
+And he said, "Mark--ME--boy! Be careful of your book."
+
+A very charming gentleman, indeed, he seemed to be.
+He heaved a sigh and wiped his eye, and then he said to me:
+"Take your books and make your books companions--never toys;
+For they who so forsake their books grow into gawky boys."
+I don't know who he was. Do you? he snuffled at the end;
+And he said, "Mark--ME--boy! Your book should be your friend."
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+To all good children over four
+ And under four-and-eighty
+Be you not over-prone to pore
+ On matters grave and weighty.
+Mayhap you'll find within this book
+ Some touch of Youth's rare clowning,
+If you will condescend to look
+ And not descend to frowning.
+
+The mind of one small boy may hold
+ Odd fancies and inviting,
+To guide a hand unsure and old
+ That moves, these days, to writing.
+For hair once bright, in days of yore,
+ Grows grey (or somewhat slaty),
+And now, alas, he's over four,
+ Though under four-and-eighty.
+
+
+CONTENTS:
+
+Dedication
+
+A Very Charming Gentleman
+The Baker
+The Dawn Dance
+Cuppacumalonga
+The Swagman
+The Ant Explorer
+Riding Song
+The Funny Hatter
+The Postman
+The Traveller
+Our Street
+The Little Red House
+The Pieman
+The Triantiwontigongolope
+The Circus
+You and I
+Going to School
+Hist!
+Bird Song
+The Music of Your Voice
+The Boy who Rode into the Sunset
+The Tram-man
+The Axe-man
+The Drovers
+The Long Road Home
+The Band
+Bessie and the Bunyip
+Good Enough
+The Porter
+Growing Up
+The Unsociable Wallaby
+The Song of the Sulky Stockman
+Our Cow
+The Teacher
+The Spotted Heifers
+Tea Talk
+The Looking Glass
+Woolloomooloo
+The Barber
+Farmer Jack
+Old Black Jacko
+Bird Song
+The Sailor
+The Famine
+The Feast
+Upon the Road to Rockabout
+A Change of Air
+Polly Dibbs
+Lullaby
+The Publisher
+Good Night
+
+
+
+THE BAKER
+
+
+
+I'd like to be a baker, and come when morning breaks,
+Calling out, "Beeay-ko!" (that's the sound he makes)--
+Riding in a rattle-cart that jogs and jolts and shakes,
+Selling all the sweetest things a baker ever bakes;
+Currant-buns and brandy-snaps, pastry all in flakes;
+ But I wouldn't be a baker if . . .
+ I couldn't eat the cakes.
+ Would you?
+
+
+
+THE DAWN DANCE
+
+What do you think I saw to-day when I arose at dawn?
+Blue Wrens and Yellow-tails dancing on the lawn!
+Bobbing here, and bowing there, gossiping away,
+And how I wished that you were there to see the merry play!
+
+But you were snug abed, my boy, blankets to your chin,
+Nor dreamed of dancing birds without or sunbeams dancing in.
+Grey Thrush, he piped the tune for them. I peeped out through the glass
+Between the window curtains, and I saw them on the grass--
+
+Merry little fairy folk, dancing up and down,
+Blue bonnet, yellow skirt, cloaks of grey and brown,
+Underneath the wattle-tree, silver in the dawn,
+Blue Wrens and Yellow-tails dancing on the lawn.
+
+
+
+CUPPACUMALONGA
+
+'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, where go you to-day?'
+I go to Cuppacumalonga, fifty miles away;
+ Over plains where Summer rains have sung a song of glee,
+ Over hills where laughing rills go seeking for the sea,
+I go to Cuppacumalonga, to my brother Bill.
+ Then come along, ah, come along!
+ Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga!
+ Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!
+
+'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, how do you get there?'
+For twenty miles I amble on upon my pony mare,
+ The walk awhile and talk awhile to country men I know,
+ Then up to ride a mile beside a team that travels slow,
+And last to Cuppacumalonga, riding with a will.
+ Then come along, ah, come along!
+ Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga!
+ Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!
+
+'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, what do you do then?'
+I camp beneath a kurrajong with three good cattle-men;
+ Then off away at break of day, with strong hands on the reins,
+ To laugh and sing while mustering the cattle on the plains--
+For up to Cuppacumalonga life is jolly still.
+ Then come along, ah, come along!
+ Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga!
+ Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!
+
+'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, how may I go too?'
+I'll saddle up my creamy colt and he shall carry you--
+ My creamy colt who will not bolt, who does not shy nor kick--
+ We'll pack the load and take the road and travel very quick.
+And if the day brings work or play we'll meet it with a will.
+ So Hi for Cuppacumalonga!
+ Come Along, ah, come along!
+ Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!
+
+
+
+THE SWAGMAN
+
+Oh, he was old and he was spare;
+His bushy whiskers and his hair
+Were all fussed up and very grey
+He said he'd come a long, long way
+And had a long, long way to go.
+Each boot was broken at the toe,
+And he'd a swag upon his back.
+His billy-can, as black as black,
+Was just the thing for making tea
+At picnics, so it seemed to me.
+
+'Twas hard to earn a bite of bread,
+He told me. Then he shook his head,
+And all the little corks that hung
+Around his hat-brim danced and swung
+And bobbed about his face; and when
+I laughed he made them dance again.
+He said they were for keeping flies--
+"The pesky varmints"--from his eyes.
+He called me "Codger". . . "Now you see
+The best days of your life," said he.
+"But days will come to bend your back,
+And, when they come, keep off the track.
+Keep off, young codger, if you can."
+He seemed a funny sort of man.
+
+He told me that he wanted work,
+But jobs were scarce this side of Bourke,
+And he supposed he'd have to go
+Another fifty mile or so.
+"Nigh all my life the track I've walked,"
+He said. I liked the way he talked.
+And oh, the places he had seen!
+I don't know where he had not been--
+On every road, in every town,
+All through the country, up and down.
+"Young codger, shun the track," he said.
+And put his hand upon my head.
+I noticed, then, that his old eyes
+Were very blue and very wise.
+"Ay, once I was a little lad,"
+He said, and seemed to grow quite sad.
+
+I sometimes think: When I'm a man,
+I'll get a good black billy-can
+And hang some corks around my hat,
+And lead a jolly life like that.
+
+
+
+THE ANT EXPLORER
+
+Once a little sugar ant made up his mind to roam--
+To fare away far away, far away from home.
+He had eaten all his breakfast, and he had his ma's consent
+To see what he should chance to see and here's the way he went--
+Up and down a fern frond, round and round a stone,
+Down a gloomy gully where he loathed to be alone,
+Up a mighty mountain range, seven inches high,
+Through the fearful forest grass that nearly hid the sky,
+Out along a bracken bridge, bending in the moss,
+Till he reached a dreadful desert that was feet and feet across.
+'Twas a dry, deserted desert, and a trackless land to tread,
+He wished that he was home again and tucked-up tight in bed.
+His little legs were wobbly, his strength was nearly spent,
+And so he turned around again and here's the way he went--
+Back away from desert lands feet and feet across,
+Back along the bracken bridge bending in the moss,
+Through the fearful forest grass shutting out the sky,
+Up a mighty mountain range seven inches high,
+Down a gloomy gully, where he loathed to be alone,
+Up and down a fern frond and round and round a stone.
+A dreary ant, a weary ant, resolved no more to roam,
+He staggered up the garden path and popped back home.
+
+
+
+RIDING SONG
+
+Flippity-flop! Flippity-flop!
+Here comes the butcher to bring us a chop
+ Cantering, cantering down the wide street
+ On his little bay mare with the funny white feet;
+Cantering, cantering out to the farm,
+Stripes on his apron and basket on arm.
+ Run to the window and tell him to stop--
+ Flippity-flop! Flippity-flop!
+
+
+
+THE FUNNY HATTER
+
+Harry was a funny man, Harry was a hatter;
+He ate his lunch at breakfast time and said it didn't matter.
+He made a pot of melon jam and put it on a shelf,
+For he was fond of sugar things and living by himself.
+He built a fire of bracken and a blue-gum log,
+And he sat all night beside it with his big--black--dog.
+
+
+
+THE POSTMAN
+
+I'd like to be a postman, and walk along the street,
+Calling out, "Good Morning, Sir," to gentlemen I meet,
+Ringing every door-bell all along my beat,
+In my cap and uniform so very nice and neat.
+Perhaps I'd have a parasol in case of rain or heat;
+ But I wouldn't be a postman if . . .
+ The walking hurt my feet.
+ Would you?
+
+
+
+THE TRAVELLER
+
+As I rode in to Burrumbeet,
+I met a man with funny feet;
+And, when I paused to ask him why
+His feet were strange, he rolled his eye
+And said the rain would spoil the wheat;
+So I rode on to Burrumbeet.
+
+As I rode in to Beetaloo,
+I met a man whose nose was blue;
+And when I asked him how he got
+A nose like that, he answered, "What
+Do bullocks mean when they say 'Moo'?"
+So I rode on to Beetaloo.
+
+As I rode in to Ballarat,
+I met a man who wore no hat;
+And, when I said he might take cold,
+He cried, "The hills are quite as old
+As yonder plains, but not so flat."
+So I rode on to Ballarat.
+
+As I rode in to Gundagai,
+I met a man and passed him by
+Without a nod, without a word.
+He turned, and said he'd never heard
+Or seen a man so wise as I.
+But I rode on to Gundagai.
+
+As I rode homeward, full of doubt,
+I met a stranger riding out:
+A foolish man he seemed to me;
+But, "Nay, I am yourself," said he,
+"Just as you were when you rode out."
+So I rode homeward, free of doubt.
+
+
+
+OUR STREET
+
+In our street, the main street
+ Running thro' the town,
+You see a lot of busy folk
+ Going up and down:
+
+Bag men and basket men,
+ Men with loads of hay,
+Buying things and selling things
+ And carting things away.
+
+The butcher is a funny man,
+ He calls me Dandy Dick;
+The baker is a cross man,
+ I think he's often sick;
+
+The fruiterer's a nice man,
+ He gives me apples, too;
+The grocer says, "Good morning, boy,
+ What can I do for you?"
+
+Of all the men in our street
+ I like the cobbler best,
+Tapping, tapping at his last
+ Without a minute's rest;
+
+Talking all the time he taps,
+ Driving in the nails,
+Smiling with his old grey eyes--
+ (Hush) . . . telling fairy tales.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE RED HOUSE
+
+Very few grown-up people understand houses. Only children understand
+them properly, and, if I understand them just a little, it is because
+I knew Sym. Sym and his wife, Emily Ann, lived in the Little Red
+House. It was built on a rather big mountain, and there were no other
+houses near it. At one time, long ago, the mountain had been covered
+all over with a great forest; but men had cut the trees down, all but
+one big Blue-gum, which grew near the Little Red House. The Blue-gum
+and the Little Red House were great friends, and often had long talks
+together. The Blue-gum was a very old tree--over a hundred years
+old--and he was proud of it, and often used to tell of the time, long
+ago, when blackfellows hunted 'possums in his branches. That was
+before the white men came to the mountain, and before there were any
+houses near it.
+
+Once upon a time I put a verse about the mountain and the Little Red
+House into a book of rhymes which I wrote for grown ups. I don't
+think they thought much about it. Very likely they said, "0h, it's
+just a house on a hill," and then forgot it, because they were too
+busy about other things.
+
+This is the rhyme:
+
+A great mother mountain, and kindly is she,
+Who nurses young rivers and sends them to sea.
+And, nestled high up on her sheltering lap,
+Is a little red house, with a little straw cap
+That bears a blue feather of smoke, curling high,
+And a bunch of red roses cocked over one eye.
+
+I have tried here to draw the Little Red House for you as well as I
+can; and it isn't my fault if it happens to look just a little like
+somebody's face. I can't help it, can I? if the stones of the door-step
+look something like teeth, or if the climbing roses make the windows
+look like a funny pair of spectacles. And if Emily Ann will hang bib
+fluffy bobs on the window blinds for tassels, and if they swing about
+in the breeze like moving eyes, well, I am not to blame, am I? It
+just happens. The only thing I am sorry for is that I couldn't get
+the big Blue-gum into the picture. Of course, I could have drawn it
+quite easily, but it was too big.
+
+Sym and Emily Ann were fond of the Little Red House, and you may be
+sure the Little Red House was fond of them--he was their home. The
+only thing that bothered him was that they were sometimes away from
+home, and then he was miserable, like all empty houses.
+
+Now, Sym was a tinker--a travelling tinker. He would do a little
+gardening and farming at home for a while, and then go off about the
+country for a few days, mending people's pots and pans and kettles.
+Usually Sym left Emily Ann at home to keep the Little Red House
+company, but now and then Emily Ann went with Sym for a trip, and
+then the Little Red House was very sad indeed.
+
+One morning, just as the sun was peeping over the edge of the world,
+the big Blue-gum woke up and stretched his limbs and waited for the
+Little Red House to say "Good morning." The Blue-gum always waited
+for the greeting because he was the older, and he liked to have
+proper respect shown to him by young folk, but the Little Red House
+didn't say a word.
+
+The big Blue-gum waited and waited; but the Little Red House wouldn't
+speak.
+
+After a while the Blue-gum said rather crossly, "You seem to be out
+of sorts this morning."
+
+But the Little Red House wouldn't say a word.
+
+"You certainly do seem as if you had a pain somewhere," said the
+Blue-gum. "And you look funny. You ought to see yourself!"
+
+"Indeed?" snapped the Little Red House, raising his eyebrows just as
+a puff of wind went by. "I can't always be playing the fool, like
+some people."
+
+"I've lived on this mountain, tree and sapling, for over a hundred
+years," replied the big Blue-gum very severely, "and never before
+have I been treated with such disrespect. When trees become houses
+they seem to lose their manners."
+
+"Forgive me," cried the Little Red House. "I didn't mean to be rude.
+I was just listening. There are things going on inside me that I
+don't like."
+
+"I hope they aren't ill-treating you," said the Blue-gum.
+
+"They are going to leave me!" sighed the Little Red House.
+
+"And they are laughing quite happily, as if they were glad about it.
+There's a nice thing for you!--Going to leave me, and laughing about it!"
+
+"But perhaps you are wrong," said the big Blue-gum, who was not so
+hard-hearted as he seemed.
+
+"I always know," moaned the Little Red House. "I can't be mistaken.
+Sym was singing his Tinker's song this morning long before the sun
+was up. And then I heard him tell Emily Ann not to forget her umbrella.
+That means that she is going; and the little dog is going, and I shall
+be all alone."
+
+"Well," answered the Blue-gum rather stiffly, "you still have ME for
+company."
+
+"I know," sighed the Little Red House. "Don't think I'm ungrateful.
+But, when they both go away, I shan't be really and truly a home again
+until they come back--just an empty house; and it makes me miserable.
+How would YOU like to be an empty house?"
+
+"Some day I might be," replied the Blue-gum, "if I don't grow too old.
+There is some fine timber in me yet."
+
+Suddenly there was a great clattering and stamping inside the Little
+House, and Sym began to sing his Tinker's song.
+
+"Kettles and pans! Kettles and pans!
+All the broad earth is the tinkering man's--
+The green leafy lane or the fields are his home,
+The road or the river, where'er he way roam.
+He roves for a living and rests where he can.
+Then bring out your kettle! ho! kettle or pan!"
+
+There's a nice thing for you!" said the Little Red House bitterly.
+"What kind of a song do you call that? Any old place is good enough
+for his home, and I am just nothing!"
+
+"Oh, that's only his way of putting it," answered the Blue-gum kindly.
+"He doesn't really mean it, you know; he wants a change, that's all."
+
+But the Little Red House wouldn't say a word.
+
+"It looks a good deal like rain this morning, doesn't it?" said the
+Blue-gum cheerfully, trying to change the subject.
+
+But the Little Red House wouldn't say a word.
+
+Very soon Sym and Emily Ann, carrying bundles, came out of the Little
+Red House, laughing and talking; and Sym locked the door.
+
+"Now for a jolly trip!" shouted Sym, as he picked up his firepot and
+soldering-irons.
+
+But all at once Emily Ann ceased laughing and looked back wistfully
+at the Little Red House.
+
+"After all I'm sorry to leave our little home," she said. "See how
+sad it looks!"
+
+"Hurry on!" cried Sym, who was all eagerness for the trip. Then he,
+too, looked back. "Why, you forgot to draw down the blinds," he said.
+
+"No, I didn't forget," answered Emily Ann, "but I think it a shame to
+blindfold the Little Red House while we are away. I just left the
+blinds up so that he could see things. Good-bye, little home," she
+called. And the Little Red House felt just the least bit comforted to
+think that Emily Ann was sorry to leave him. Then she went off down
+the winding path with Sym; and Sym began to shout his Tinker's Song
+again.
+
+The Little Red House watched them go down the mountain.
+
+Away they went: through the gate, past the black stump, round by the
+bracken patch and over the bridge, across the potato paddock, through
+the sliprails--getting smaller and smaller--past the sign-post, down
+by the big rocks--getting smaller and smaller--under the tree-ferns,
+out on to the stony flat, across the red road, until they were just
+two tiny specks away down in the valley. Then they went through a
+white gate, round a turn, and the high scrub hid them.
+
+Had you been able to see the Little Red House just at that moment, you
+would have been sure he was going to cry--he looked so miserable and
+so lonely.
+
+"Cheer up!" said the big Blue-gum.
+
+But the Little Red House couldn't say a word.
+
+Presently the big Blue-gum groaned loudly.
+
+"Oo! Ah! Ah! Golly!" groaned the Blue-gum in a strange voice.
+
+"I beg your pardon? said the Little Red House.
+
+"Oh, I have a nasty sharp pain in my side," said the Blue-gum. "I do
+hope and trust it isn't white-ants. It would be simply horrible, if
+it were. Fancy getting white-ants at my time of life! Here I have
+lived on this mountain, tree and sapling, for over a hundred years;
+and to think those nasty, white, flabby little things should get me
+at last is horrible--horrible!"
+
+"I am sorry," said the Little Red House. "I'm afraid I've been very
+selfish, too. I was forgetting that everyone has troubles of his own;
+but I hope it isn't so bad as you fear."
+
+"It is bad enough," groaned the Blue-gum. "Ow! There it is again. I'm
+afraid it IS white-ants. I can feel the wretched little things nipping."
+
+But the Little Red House hardly heard him. He was thinking again of
+his own troubles.
+
+So they stood all through that day, saying very little to each other.
+Rabbits came and played about the Little Red House, and lizards ran
+over his door-step, and once a big wallaby went flopping right past
+the front gate. But the Little Red House paid no attention. He was
+too busy thinking of his loneliness.
+
+Birds came and perched in the branches of the big Blue-gum, and
+chattered and sang to him, trying to tell him the news of other trees
+on distant mountains. But the big Blue-gum took no notice. He was too
+busy thinking about white-ants.
+
+So the sun sank low behind the Little House, and the shadow of the
+tall Blue-gum began to creep down the mountain and get longer and
+longer.
+
+Just as it was growing dark, the big Blue-gum said Suddenly, "It
+certainly looks more like rain than ever. The heavy clouds have been
+gathering all day, and we shall get it properly to-night."
+
+But the rain did not come that night, nor the next day, nor for two
+days and nights. And all this while the Little Red House and the Big
+Blue-gum remained silent and miserable--one through loneliness, the
+other through white-ants.
+
+But on the evening of the third day the big Blue-gum said, "The rain
+will come to-night for certain. I know by the feel of the air."
+
+"Let it come!" said the Little Red House. "I don't care. I couldn't
+be more miserable than I am."
+
+Just as he said that, one great rain-drop fell right on the middle
+of his roof--Plop!
+
+"It's coming already," cried the Blue-gum, "and it's going to pour."
+
+Then three more big drops fell--Plop! Plop! Plop!
+
+"I have never in my life seen such big rain-drops," said the Blue-gum.
+"I've lived on this mountain, tree and sapling, for--"
+
+But--Crash! came rain before he could finish; and in two seconds
+everything was sopping wet. The noise of it was deafening,
+
+"Why, it's a cloud-burst!" shouted the Blue-gum. "Half of my leaves
+have been stripped off already." Then he peered through the rain and
+the dark to see how the Little Red House was taking it. "Why, what's
+the matter with your face?" he cried. "You look awful."
+
+"I'm crying!" sobbed the Little Red House. "That's all--just crying.
+"Can't you see the tears?"
+
+"Nonsense!" said the Blue-gum. "Those are not tears. It's just the
+rain-water running off your window-sills."
+
+"I tell you I'm crying!" wailed the Little Red House. "I'm crying
+bitterly. I should know, shouldn't I? I'm shivering and crying
+because I'm cold and lonely and miserable."
+
+"Oh, very well," agreed the Blue-gum. "You are crying. But if this
+rain doesn't stop soon, you'll cry the front path away. It certainly
+is wet."
+
+Very late that night the rain eased a little and then stopped
+altogether. The tears ceased to run from the eyes of the Little
+Red House, and they now came only in drops, slower and slower, falling
+into the great pool by the front door.
+
+"It's a hard world!" sobbed the Little Red House, squeezing out
+another tear.
+
+"Listen!" cried the Big Blue-gum. "Do you hear THAT?"
+
+From far away on the distant ranges came a dull, moaning sound. As
+they listened it grew louder, and right in the middle of of it came
+another sound--Thump!
+
+"That's wind," said the Blue-gum; "and a big wind, too."
+
+"Let it come!" sighed the Little Red House. "I couldn't be more
+miserable than I am."
+
+As he spoke, the moaning grew louder, and there were three or four
+quite big thumps one after another.
+
+"What's that thumping?" asked the little House.
+
+"Those are my poor brothers," answered the big Blue-gum very sadly,
+"Those are trees going down before the big wind. The birds were
+bringing me messages from those poor fellows quite lately; and now I
+shall never hear from them again. It's very sad."
+
+"I never thought the wind could blow down big trees," said the Little
+House.
+
+"No tree knows when his time will come," the big Blue-gum answered
+gravely. "I've had some very narrow escapes in my time, as tree and
+sapling on this mountain."
+
+The Little Red House was very quiet and thoughtful for a long time
+after that. Then he asked suddenly, "Which way do you think you would
+fall if you did fall?"
+
+But the big Blue-gum said that he couldn't tell. It depended on the
+wind, and he might fall any way.
+
+"Not on me!" cried the Little House.
+
+The Blue-gum said that he didn't know; but he hoped not.
+
+"If you DID fall on me," said the Little Red House, "I suppose it
+would hurt me."
+
+The Blue-gum said it certainly would, and there would be very little
+left but splinters and glass.
+
+"Then don't! Please don't," yelled the Little Red House.
+
+But before they could say another word the great wind struck them with
+a roar. It tossed the roses about so that the eyebrows of the Little
+House seemed to be twitching horribly; and it swayed the big Blue-gum
+this way and that till he appeared to be fighting for his very life.
+It picked up the fallen leaves and twigs, and even small stones, and
+hurled them down the mountain in a cloud.
+
+In the midst of all the uproar the Little House heard the Blue-gum
+calling to him.
+
+"As long as I've lived upon this mountain, tree and sapling," he
+shouted, "I've never known such a wind. I'm not so young as I used to
+be, and I fear that my end has come."
+
+"Be brave! Oh, be brave!" implored the Little Red House. "Don't let
+him blow you down. I should be so sorry to lose you, What are you
+grunting for?"
+
+"I'm not grunting," answered the Blue-gym in a pained voice. "Those
+are my roots giving way, one by one. I can't stand much more of this.
+Look out!"
+
+The Little Red House looked up, and what he saw terrified him. The
+big Blue-gum, in the clutch of the wind, was bent right over him,
+so that the top branches seemed to be just above his roof; and the
+great tree appeared to be falling, falling, helplessly.
+
+"Don't fall on me!" shrieked the Little Red House. "Oh, don't fall
+on me; because, if you do, you know you'll squash me! I don't want
+to be squashed!"
+
+But the big Blue-gum said, "There is just one little root holding
+now. If that gives way we are both done for."
+
+"Be brave! Oh, be brave!" shrieked the Little Red House.
+
+Then slowly, very slowly, the big Blue-gum began to straighten up
+again, away from the Little Red House.
+
+"I have stood upon this mountain, tree and sapling, for over a
+hundred years," he said when he had recovered; "but if it blows like
+that again, it is the end of me."
+
+But it did not blow like that again; though the wind howled and
+shrieked all that day as if it was very angry and disappointed that
+it could not blow down the big Blue-gum.
+
+Then, towards evening, the wind fell; the heavy clouds went away
+beyond the edge of the sky, and all became very calm and peaceful.
+
+The birds came from their hiding places and sat in the branches of
+the Blue-gum and chattered away to him, until he began to feel quite
+cheerful once more, in spite of his trouble. And when a certain
+little Tree-creeper--a very wise bird--came and had a long, serious
+talk with the Blue-gum, he became very much interested indeed and
+quite happy.
+
+But the Little Red House was miserable still; and the beauty of
+the evening didn't cheer him up one bit.
+
+"Ah, well," said the Blue-gum, when the darkness came to the mountain,
+"I am going to have a good sleep tonight. I'm a match still for old
+Daddy Wind, in spite of all his noise and bluster. And there are ways
+of dealing with white-ants, too. I've lived upon this mountain, tree
+and sapling, for--"
+
+But as he was talking he fell fast asleep.
+
+The Little Red House did not sleep. How could he, with his eyes wide
+open? So he just stood there all night staring before him, lonely and
+wretched. And when an owl came and sat in the tree and began to call,
+"Mopoke," the Little Red House told him rudely to stop his silly noise
+and clear out. That will just show you how very miserable he was.
+
+It was quite late next morning when the Blue-gum awoke. He stretched
+his big limbs, and began to wonder what he might say to comfort the
+Little Red House. But when the Blue-gum looked down, he saw that the
+Little Red House was smiling all over his face.
+
+"Well, now!" cried the big Blue-gum cheerfully. "That's the kind of
+face I like to see in the morning! So you've decided to be sensible
+and forget your loneliness?"
+
+But the Little Red House didn't say a word. He just went on smiling.
+
+Then the big Blue-gum began to get uneasy.
+
+"I do hope your troubles haven't turned you silly," he said. "You
+haven't lost your senses, have you?"
+
+"I?" cried the Little Red House. "Why, look down the valley! See
+who's coming!"
+
+Down, far down, the valley, just coming through the white gate, were
+two figures that looked like tiny specks. And much nearer was another
+speck, which was certainly a little dog.
+
+"It's them--I mean those are they!" shouted the Little Red House
+happily. "Sym and Emily Ann! And here comes our little dog."
+
+"Well, you certainly have sharp eyes," replied the Blue-gum. "But I
+suppose I'm getting old--over a hundred years, you know."
+
+The two figures were through the white gate now, and had crossed the
+red road out on to the stony flat--getting bigger and bigger as they
+came; and the smile on the Little Red House seemed to grow broader
+and broader. On they came, under the tree-ferns, up by the big rocks,
+past the sign-post. And now the Little Red House could hear Sym
+singing his Tinker's song.
+
+But it was not quite the same song this time:
+
+"Kettles and pans! Ho, kettles and pans!
+Where's there a home like the tinkering man's?
+Weary of wandering, home is the place--
+The Little Red House with the smile on his face--
+Weary and hungry, my Emily Ann.
+Then put on the kettle! Ho, put on the pan!"
+
+"Now THAT is the sort of song I DO like," said the Little Red House,
+as he watched them coming up the mountain.
+
+On they came, growing bigger and bigger--through the sliprails, across
+the potato paddock, over the bridge, round by the bracken-patch, past
+the black stump, through the gate, and here they were, right at the
+front door.
+
+"Oh, I AM glad to be home again," cried Emily Ann. "And do look at the
+Little House. He seems to be smiling."
+
+"Of course he is smiling," answered Sym; "but he has a very dirty face."
+
+"The storm did that," said Emily Ann. "Now hurry and get the fire
+alight, and I'll put the kettle on." And they went inside laughing
+and singing, while the little dog flew round the house, barking for
+dear life, and pretending he was very busy seeing everything was
+in order.
+
+"Now I suppose you're happy," said the big Blue-gum to the Little
+Red House.
+
+"Happy?" cried the Little House. "Of course I am. Why, I'm a home
+again!" But suddenly he remembered that his own happiness had made
+him forget all about his old friend's troubles; and he tried his best
+to look serious, as he said: "But what about YOU? Are the white-ants
+still troubling you?"
+
+"Ah!" replied the Blue-gum. "Don't let that worry you. Yesterday I
+had a talk with the doctor--Doctor Tree-creeper, you know--a very
+clever little bird he is, and he knows all about white-ants. He
+examined me thoroughly all over. He says that they have hardly got
+under my skin yet, and he will have them all out in a couple of days.
+So THAT'S all right."
+
+"Well, I am glad," shouted the Little Red House. "Now we are ALL happy!"
+
+Then Sym got the fire started, and the smoke curled up, and the Little
+House had his gay blue feather once again. Sym began to sing his
+Tinker's Song louder than ever, and Emily Ann, who was getting the
+meal ready, joined in and sang too. Very soon the kettle also began
+to sing, and, when the pan heard that HE began to sing. Then Doctor
+Tree-creeper arrived to attend to the white-ants, and, as he walked
+round the trunk of the big Blue-gum, tapping it just like a doctor,
+HE began to sing. And two Kookaburras, who were sitting on the fence,
+were so tickled with it all, that they laughed and laughed till they
+made everyone else laugh with them.
+
+"This is quite like old times," laughed the big Blue-gum. "Are you
+contented now?"
+
+"Am I contented?" cried the Little Red House. "Am I contented? Well,
+what would you think?"
+
+And then--well, most ordinary grown-up folk would tell you that just
+then Emily Ann drew down one of the front blinds. But all the big
+Blue-gum knew, and all you and I know, is that the Little Red House
+winked.
+
+And when I saw him last, his smile was as broad as ever, and he was
+still winking.
+
+
+
+THE PIEMAN
+
+I'd like to be a pieman, and ring a little bell,
+Calling out, "Hot pies! Hot pies to sell!"
+Apple-pies and Meat-pies, Cherry-pies as well,
+Lots and lots and lots of pies--more than you can tell.
+Big, rich Pork-pies! Oh, the lovely smell!
+ But I wouldn't be a pieman if . . .
+ I wasn't very well.
+ Would you?
+
+
+
+THE TRIANTIWONTIGONGOLOPE
+
+There's a very funny insect that you do not often spy,
+And it isn't quite a spider, and it isn't quite a fly;
+It is something like a beetle, and a little like a bee,
+But nothing like a wooly grub that climbs upon a tree.
+Its name is quite a hard one, but you'll learn it soon, I hope.
+So try:
+ Tri-
+ Tri-anti-wonti-
+ Triantiwontigongolope.
+
+It lives on weeds and wattle-gum, and has a funny face;
+Its appetite is hearty, and its manners a disgrace.
+When first you come upon it, it will give you quite a scare,
+But when you look for it again, you find it isn't there.
+And unless you call it softly it will stay away and mope.
+So try:
+ Tri-
+ Tri-anti-wonti-
+ Triantiwontigongolope.
+
+It trembles if you tickle it or tread upon its toes;
+It is not an early riser, but it has a snubbish nose.
+If you snear at it, or scold it, it will scuttle off in shame,
+But it purrs and purrs quite proudly if you call it by its name,
+And offer it some sandwiches of sealing-wax and soap.
+So try:
+ Tri-
+ Tri-anti-wonti-
+ Triantiwontigongolope .
+
+But of course you haven't seen it; and I truthfully confess
+That I haven't seen it either, and I don't know its address.
+For there isn't such an insect, though there really might have been
+If the trees and grass were purple, and the sky was bottle green.
+It's just a little joke of mine, which you'll forgive, I hope.
+Oh, try!
+ Tri-
+ Tri-anti-wonti-
+ Triantiwontigongolope.
+
+
+
+THE CIRCUS
+
+Hey, there! Hoop-la! the circus is in town!
+Have you seen the elephant? Have you seen the clown?
+Have you seen the dappled horse gallop round the ring?
+Have you seen the acrobats on the dizzy swing?
+Have you seen the tumbling men tumble up and down?
+Hoop-la! Hoop-la! the circus is in town!
+
+Hey, there! Hoop-la! Here's the circus troupe!
+Here's the educated dog, jumping through the hoop.
+See the lady Blondin with the parasol and fan,
+The lad upon the ladder and the india-rubber man.
+See the joyful juggler and the boy who loops the loop.
+Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Here's the circus troupe!
+
+
+
+YOU AND I
+
+They say the eagle is a bird
+That sees some splendid sights
+When he soars high into the sky
+Upon his dizzy flights:
+He sees the ground for miles around
+Our house, and Billy Johnson's;
+But we cannot be eagles, for
+That would, of course, be nonsense.
+
+But you and I, some summer day,
+Providing we're allowed,
+Will go up in an aeroplane
+And sail right through a cloud.
+But, if they say we may not go,
+We'll stay upon the ground
+With other things that have no wings,
+And watch them walk around.
+
+They say the bottom of the sea
+Is beautiful to view;
+They say the fish, whene'er they wish,
+Can sail and see it, too;
+The shining pearls, the coral curls,
+The sharks, the squids, the schnappers,
+And fish with fins (though not in tins)
+And fish with funny flappers.
+
+But you and I, some sunny day,
+When weather's in condition,
+Will go there in a submarine,
+Providing we've permission.
+
+But if they say we may not go
+We must respect their wishes;
+And you and I will just keep dry
+Because we are not fishes.
+
+The earth is quite a jolly place,
+And we don't care for flying;
+And things that creep down in the deep
+Are sometimes rather trying.
+So, if they'll grant a holiday
+Or even only half,
+We'll lie upon some grassy place,
+And think of things, and laugh.
+
+
+
+GOING TO SCHOOL
+
+Did you see them pass to-day, Billy, Kate and Robin,
+All astride upon the back of old grey Dobbin?
+Jigging, jogging off to school, down the dusty track--
+What must Dobbin think of it--three upon his back?
+Robin at the bridle-rein, in the middle Kate,
+Billy holding on behind, his legs out straight.
+
+Now they're coming back from school, jig, jog, jig.
+See them at the corner where the gums grow big;
+Dobbin flicking off the flies and blinking at the sun--
+Having three upon his back he thinks is splendid fun:
+Robin at the bridle-rein, in the middle Kate,
+Little Billy up behind, his legs out straight.
+
+
+
+HIST!
+
+Hist! . . . . . . Hark!
+The night is very dark,
+And we've to go a mile or so
+Across the Possum Park.
+
+Step . . . . . . light,
+Keeping to the right;
+If we delay, and lose our way,
+We'll be out half the night.
+The clouds are low and gloomy. Oh!
+It's just begun to mist!
+We haven't any overcoats
+And--Hist! . . . . . . Hist!
+
+(Mo . . . . . . poke!)
+Who was that that spoke?
+This is not a fitting spot
+To make a silly joke.
+
+Dear . . . . . . me!
+A mopoke in a tree!
+It jarred me so, I didn't know
+Whatever it could be.
+But come along; creep along;
+Soon we shall be missed.
+They'll get a scare and wonder where
+We--Hush! . . . . . . Hist!
+
+Ssh! . . . . . . Soft!
+I've told you oft and oft
+We should not stray so far away
+Without a moon aloft.
+
+Oo! . . . . . . Scat!
+Goodness! What was that?
+Upon my word, it's quite absurd,
+It's only just a cat.
+But come along; haste along;
+Soon we'll have to rush,
+Or we'll be late and find the gate
+Is--Hist! . . . . . . Hush!
+
+(Kok!. . . . . . Korrock!)
+Oh! I've had a shock!
+I hope and trust it's only just
+A frog behind a rock.
+
+Shoo! . . . . . . Shoo!
+We've had enough of you;
+Scaring folk just for a joke
+Is not the thing to do.
+But come along, slip along--
+Isn't it a lark
+Just to roam so far from home
+On--Hist! . . . . . . Hark!
+
+Look! . . . . . . See!
+Shining through the tree,
+The window-light is glowing bright
+To welcome you and me.
+
+Shout! . . . . . . Shout!
+There's someone round about,
+And through the door I see some more
+And supper all laid out.
+Now, run! Run! Run!
+Oh, we've had such splendid fun--
+Through the park in the dark,
+As brave as anyone.
+
+Laughed, we did, and chaffed, we did,
+And whistled all the way,
+And we're home again! Home again!
+Hip . . . . . . Hooray!
+
+
+
+BIRD SONG
+
+I am friendly with the sparrow
+Though his mind is rather narrow
+ And his manners--well, the less we say the better.
+But as day begins to peep,
+When I hear his cheery "Cheep"
+ I am ready to admit I am his debtor
+
+I delight in red-browed finches
+And all birds of scanty inches.
+ Willie wagtail is a pleasant bird, and coy.
+All the babblers, chats and wrens,
+Tits and robins, and their hens,
+ Are my very special friends, and bring me joy.
+
+
+
+THE MUSIC OF YOUR VOICE
+
+A vase upon the mantelpiece,
+ A ship upon the sea,
+A goat upon a mountain-top
+ Are much the same to me;
+But when you mention melon jam,
+ Or picnics by the creek,
+Or apple pies, or pantomimes,
+ I love to hear you speak.
+
+The date of Magna Charta or
+ The doings of the Dutch,
+Or capes, or towns, or verbs, or nouns
+ Do not excite me much;
+But when you mention motor rides--
+ Down by the sea for choice
+Or chasing games, or chocolates,
+ I love to hear your voice.
+
+
+
+THE BOY WHO RODE INTO THE SUNSET
+
+Once upon a time--it was not so very long ago, either--a little boy,
+named Neville, lived with his people in a house which was almost in
+the country. That is to say, it was just at the edge of the city; and
+at the back of the house was a rather large hill, which was quite
+bald.
+
+Neville, who was fond of playing by himself, would often wander to the
+top of the bald hill; and if he stood right on top of it and looked
+one way, toward the East, he could see right over the city, with all
+its tall buildings and domes and spires and smoking chimneys. But
+looking the other way, to the West, he could see for miles over the
+beautiful country, with its green fields and orchards and white roads
+and little farm houses.
+
+One evening Neville was playing alone on the top of the hill when he
+noticed that one of the very finest sunsets he had ever seen was just
+coming on. The sky in the West, away over the broad country lands, was
+filled with little clouds of all sorts and shapes, and they were just
+beginning to take on the most wonderful colours.
+
+Neville had often before amused himself with watching clouds and the
+strange shapes into which they changed themselves--sometimes like
+great mountain ranges, sometimes like sea-waves, and very often like
+elephants and lions and seals and all manner of interesting things of
+that sort. But never before had he been able to make out so many
+animal shapes in the clouds. The sky was almost as good as a Zoo.
+There were kangaroos and elephants and a hen with chickens and
+wallabies and rabbits and a funny man with large ears and all sorts of
+other peculiar shapes.
+
+The sun was sinking behind a distant range of hills, where a golden
+light shone out as if through a gateway. It was so much like a great
+golden gateway that Neville fell to wondering what might be found on
+the other side of it.
+
+Suddenly, right in the middle of all the coloured clouds, he saw one
+little cloud which was perfectly white, and, as he watched it, he
+noticed that it seemed to be shaped like a small horse. A very small
+horse it seemed at that distance; but, as Neville gazed, it grew
+bigger and bigger, just as if it were coming toward him very fast, and
+he was almost certain he could see its legs moving.
+
+That startled him a little, and so he rubbed his eyes to make sure
+that they were not playing him tricks.
+
+When he looked again he was more startled than ever; for the little
+white cloud was no longer a cloud, but a little white horse in real
+earnest. Besides, it had just left the sky and was galloping down the
+mountain range which he could see away in the West.
+
+In two minutes it had left the range, and was coming across the fields
+towards him, jumping the fences, dodging under the trees, and racing
+across the plain with its white mane and tail tossing as it came. It
+seemed to be making straight for him.
+
+He was not really frightened--you must not think that about him--but
+he was just beginning to wonder if it were not nearly time to go home
+to dinner, when he noticed that the white horse had stopped, just at
+the foot of the bald hill. It was looking up at him, tossing its head
+and pawing the ground--the most beautiful white horse that he had ever
+seen, even in a circus. Then it appeared to get over its excitement
+and began to trot quietly up the hill toward him.
+
+I do not think anyone would have blamed Neville if he had decided then
+to go home to dinner at once. But he was rather a brave boy, and he
+was certainly very curious, so he just stood still and waited.
+
+And here is where the most wonderful part of the story begins. The
+white horse trotted up to Neville and spoke to him. That would
+surprise most people; and Neville was certainly as much surprised as
+anyone else would have been.
+
+"What are you frightened of?" asked the white horse in a loud voice.
+
+Now, Neville WAS just a little frightened by this time; but he was not
+going to show it, so he just said, "Who's frightened?"
+
+"YOU'RE frightened," said the white horse, louder than ever. "You're
+only a timid little boy. I thought when I saw you in the distance that
+you were one of the plucky ones; but I was mistaken. You're just a
+little cowardly-custard."
+
+"You'd better be careful who you're talking to," said Neville,
+suddenly losing his fear. (Little boys do not always talk good
+grammar; otherwise he would have said "whom" not "who.") He hated to
+be called a "cowardly-custard." "You'd better be careful, or I'll give
+you a bang!"
+
+"Ah ha!" cried the white horse. "Very brave all at once, aren't you?
+All the same, you're afraid to come near and stroke me."
+
+"But I don't want to stroke you," said Neville.
+
+"I thought not," replied the white horse. "I thought not, the moment I
+got close to you. You're one of the frightened ones, and I've been
+wasting my time."
+
+"Who's frightened?" said Neville again.
+
+"You asked that before," replied the white horse, "and I told you. If
+you're not frightened, come along and stroke me. There's nothing to be
+afraid of."
+
+So Neville walked right up to the white horse and stroked his
+shoulder. And at once he felt that he had been foolish to hold back.
+For of all the smooth, soft, silky coats he had ever stroked, that of
+the white horse was certainly the smoothest, and the softest, and the
+silkiest. He felt that he could go on stroking it for hours.
+
+"There now," said the white horse in a voice as soft and silky as his
+coat. "There was nothing to be afraid of, was there? And I think that
+perhaps I was mistaken about you. I rather think you might be one of
+those daring boys that one reads about in stories. What about jumping
+on my back for a little ride?"
+
+Neville ceased to stroke the white horse and drew back a little.
+
+"I'm afraid they'll be expecting me home for dinner," he said. "I'm
+very pleased indeed to have met you." Neville was always a polite
+little boy.
+
+"The very thing!" cried the white horse. "Jump on my back and I'll
+take you home. You liked stroking me, didn't you? Well that's nothing
+to the ride you will enjoy--simply nothing. Why, all the boldest
+riders in the world would give their ears just for one little ride on
+my back. Now then! One, two, three, and up you go!"
+
+Then before Neville quite knew what he was doing, he made a little run
+and leapt up astride of the white horse.
+
+"I live just over there," said Neville, pointing towards his home.
+
+But before he could say "knife", or even "scissors" (supposing he had
+wished to say either of these words), the white horse laughed a nasty
+hollow laugh, sprang upwards from the ground, and was soaring through
+the air toward the dying sunset, right away from home and dinner.
+
+Neville clung on tightly, for he was so high above the earth that to
+fall off would mean the end of him. And far beneath him he saw the
+green fields and the white road, which now seemed like a mere thread.
+
+"That's not fair! Whoa back! Whoa back!" he shouted to the white
+horse; but the white horse made no reply. Indeed, he seemed suddenly
+not so much like a white horse as like a white cloud shaped like a
+horse, and Neville saw that he no longer sat upon the horse's silky
+coat, but upon something soft and downy like a white fleece, and it
+was slightly damp. Then he knew that he was riding upon a cloud; and,
+as it was quite absurd to go on talking to a cloud, he ceased to cry
+out. He just sat tight and wondered what would happen next.
+
+He was high over a farm-house now: one that he used to see from the
+bald hill. He knew it by the tall pine-trees that grew round it; and
+down in the farm-yard he saw a man with a bucket going out to feed the
+calves. Neville called loudly to him, but the man did not even look
+up. Now he was far beyond that farm-house and above an orchard, where
+he saw the fruit-trees standing in straight rows; and a few seconds
+later the mountain range was beneath him, and Neville knew that the
+cloud that looked like a horse was making straight for the golden
+gateway, which was now glowing dully in a grey sky. He was riding into
+the sunset.
+
+Swiftly as the wind that drove it, the Cloud Horse drifted over the
+mountain range. There was a sudden glow of golden light all about him,
+and then a flash of colour so wonderful that Neville could not bear to
+look. He closed his eyes, and, as he did so, he felt that the Cloud
+Horse had come to a halt at last.
+
+So Neville sat upon the cloud, not daring to open his eyes for quite a
+long time. When at last he did look again he almost fainted with the
+wonder of it. He was inside the sunset.
+
+But scarcely had he begun to enjoy the wonderful sight, when he was
+startled by the sound of a funny, shrill little voice close by his
+side. Looking down, he saw a strange little man, no taller than a
+walking-stick, and dressed from top to toe in golden-yellow clothes.
+"My stars!" said the wee yellow man. "How did YOU manage to get in
+here? Don't you know this is private?"
+
+"I'm very sorry," said Neville, "but I couldn't help it. The Cloud
+Horse brought me, you know."
+
+"Ah!" said the wee yellow man. "He tricked you, did he? He's much too
+playful, that Cloud Horse; and, I must say, he's put you in a pretty
+fix."
+
+"Excuse me," said Neville, "but do you mind telling me who you are?"
+
+"I?" cried the little yellow man. "Why, I'm the Last Sunbeam, of
+course. I thought you knew that. My job, you know, is to shut up the
+show when the sunset is over. And it's pretty hard work, I can tell
+you, because I've got to keep on doing it all round the earth every
+few minutes or so. And it gets very tiresome at times. Would you
+believe it? I've never seen a dawn or a bright mid-day in all my
+life--just sunsets all the time. Sunsets for breakfast, sunsets for
+dinner, sunsets for supper. And if I make the tiniest little slip, the
+head scene-shifter is down on me like a ton of bricks."
+
+"Goodness me!" said Neville. "I didn't know you had scene-shifters
+here." Neville had been to see pantomimes, and therefore knew what a
+scene-shifter was.
+
+"Then how do you think we shift the scenes?" cried the wee yellow man
+rather crossly. Then he suddenly became very busy about nothing, as he
+whispered, "Look out! Here's the head scene-shifter coming now."
+
+Looking back, Neville saw, coming towards them, a man with very large
+ears. He was not a nice-looking man, and he was extremely like the
+cloud man that Neville had sometimes seen in the sky when he went to
+look at the sunset from the bald hill.
+
+"Now then! Now then!" roared the man with the large ears. "Move
+yourself there, Goldie! We shut up the show here in a few minutes, and
+open at once on the next range. See that you have that curtain down on
+time."
+
+"Certainly, sir," replied the little yellow man very humbly.
+
+Then the man with the large ears noticed Neville for the first time.
+He frowned darkly, and his big ears seemed to flap with annoyance.
+
+"Who is this on our Cloud Horse?" he roared in his great angry voice.
+
+"Just a little boy," said the yellow man--for Neville was far too
+frightened to speak. "Just a little boy that the Cloud Horse has been
+playing tricks on. I think he'd like to be getting home--just over by
+the bald hill, if you don't mind, sir."
+
+"Certainly not!" shouted the man with the large ears. "The Cloud Horse
+is not to go out there again to-night, nor the silly little boy
+either. I'm not going to have the sunset upset by any such silly
+nonsense. You mind what I say and attend to your work."
+
+And, without another glance at Neville, the man with the large ears
+strode off to arrange for the sunset on the next range, miles and
+miles away.
+
+Neville gazed at the wee yellow man hopelessly, and the wee yellow man
+gazed at Neville, and neither spoke a word until the man with the
+large ears was well out of the way. Then the Last Sunbeam grew quite
+cheerful again.
+
+"Well," said he, "you heard what the head scene-shifter said. You
+certainly can't go home by the way you came. The only thing for you to
+do is to go round. You'll just about have time to do it, if you
+hurry."
+
+"Go round?" repeated Neville in a puzzled voice. "Go round what, round
+where?"
+
+"Round the world, of course," replied the little yellow man.
+
+"Round the world?" cried Neville. "Why you must be making fun of me,
+and I think that is very unkind."
+
+"Not a bit of it," laughed the little yellow man. "You need not make
+such as fuss about it. Why, I go round the world once every day with
+the sunset. You have only to go a bit faster so as to do it in a few
+minutes, and with the Cloud Horse to help you that's easily managed.
+Don't you worry about the Cloud Horse. He has got to do just whatever I
+tell him. Now, excuse me for one moment and I'll give you full
+directions."
+
+With that the wee yellow man went behind a pink cloud and came
+back with a beautiful blue flower in his hand.
+
+"This," he said, handing the flower to Neville, "is a Sky Flower. It
+is made entirely out of a genuine piece of sky, and it is a
+talisman--that's a longer word for charm, you know--which takes you
+free round the world. The one thing you have to remember is that you
+mustn't, on any account, lose that flower until you get home again.
+Now, just exactly what you have to do is to travel West and race round
+the world until you catch up with this evening again. It is quite
+simple."
+
+"Simple!" cried Neville. "Why I don't understand it at all."
+
+"Dear me!" said the wee yellow man rather impatiently, "you are very
+dense. Now listen carefully. The world, you know, turns round from
+West to East, and that makes it seem as if the sun is going round the
+world from East to West. Very well. So what you have to do is to ride
+West upon the Cloud horse much faster than the sun appears to travel,
+and catch him up again before he gets well away from here. The Cloud
+horse is in good condition, and you should easily do it in a few
+minutes."
+
+"A few minutes!" gasped Neville.
+
+"Keep quiet and listen," snapped the wee yellow man. "A few miles West
+from here you will come into broad daylight. That will be afternoon.
+After that you will meet mid-day, and, passing that, you will reach
+the place where it is only dawn. That's about half-way round the
+earth. Show the Sky Flower to the porter of the Dawn, and he will let
+you through. Then you get to the half of the world where it is night,
+and you must race round that till you reach the place where it is only
+evening. That will be THIS evening, somewhere about here, for you will
+have taken only a few minutes altogether. And when you see your own
+home or the bald hill again, grasp the Sky Flower tightly in your
+hand, jump off the Cloud horse, and you will float gracefully down to
+the earth. It won't hurt you. Then you can go home, and I hope you
+will not be late for dinner."
+
+"But," began Neville, "I can't understand--"
+
+"My time is valuable," said the wee yellow man, as he shook hands.
+"Good-bye, and a pleasant journey." With that he smacked the Cloud
+Horse smartly on the flank, and in a moment it was racing into the
+West at a most terrific pace.
+
+Of course, now that aeroplanes have been invented, flying is not
+thought so wonderful as once it was. But loafing along through the air
+in a biplane or a monoplane at eighty or a hundred miles an hour is a
+very tame business when you compare it with racing the day round the
+world on a Cloud horse. And Neville is very probably the only person
+who has ever done that yet.
+
+Almost before he knew what had happened, he had left evening far
+behind and was riding in broad daylight. The cloud Horse had ridden
+high in the air, and Neville saw the broad country, with plains and
+hills and forest lands, stretched far beneath him. An instant later,
+and the land was no longer below him, but the wide sea, sparkling in
+brilliant sunlight.
+
+Before he had time to notice very much he had reached mid-day, high
+over a strange foreign land, and was racing through the morning toward
+the dawn. So quickly did he go that there was little chance of seeing
+anything clearly; but he had glimpses of many strange sights. Many
+ships he saw upon the sea--small ships and stately steamers crawling
+over the ocean like strange water-beetles. Once, as the Cloud Horse
+drifted low, Neville saw a beautiful sailing-ship, with all sails set,
+and strange-looking men upon the deck. They looked very like pirates,
+and perhaps they were; but Neville had no time to make sure, for the
+very next minute he was over a wild land where he saw a horde of black
+men, with spears and clubs, hunting an elephant through a clearing in
+a great jungle. As he looked, the elephant turned to charge the
+hunters; but what happened then Neville did not see, for in a moment
+more he was above a great city with crowds of people in the
+streets--people dressed in strange, bright-coloured clothes--and there
+were bells ringing and whistles blowing. Then a great desert spread
+beneath him, with no living thing in sight but a great tawny lion
+prowling over the sand. Then came the sea again, and more ships; and
+the light began to grow dim, for he was nearly half-way round the
+earth, and was approaching the dawn.
+
+Dimmer grew the light, and dimmer yet, just as though evening were
+coming--and before him, Neville saw the dawn like a silvery gateway in
+the sky. Straight toward it the Cloud Horse rushed, and stopped so
+suddenly that Neville almost fell off.
+
+"What's all this? What's all this?" cried a small voice; and Neville
+saw beside the silver gateway, a little man dressed from top to toe in
+silver grey. It was the Porter of the Dawn, sometimes called the First
+Sunbeam.
+
+Before Neville could answer, the little grey man had caught sight of
+the Sky Flower.
+
+"Ah, you have the talisman," said he. "Pass in! and don't stop to
+gossip, because I'm very busy this morning. A pleasant journey," he
+added as he smacked the cloud horse on the shoulder; and in an instant
+Neville had passed through the dawn and plunged into the night.
+
+It was a dark night, with no moon, for the sky was overcast with dense
+clouds. Above these the Cloud horse flew, and overhead Neville saw the
+rushing stars, and below only the blackness of heavy clouds. But more
+often the Cloud horse flew low, and then there was little to be seen.
+By the lights of moving ships Neville knew that sometimes he was above
+the sea. Sometimes twinkling lights in towns or solitary farms, or the
+sudden blaze of a great city told him that the land was beneath him.
+Once, through the blackness, he saw a great forest fire upon an
+island, and the light of it lit up the sea, and showed the natives
+crowded upon the beach and in the shallows, and some making off in
+canoes.
+
+Then darkness swallowed the Cloud Horse again, and the blazing island
+was left far behind.
+
+After that, Neville began to feel a little drowsy. Perhaps he did
+sleep a little, for the next thing he saw was a faint light in the sky
+before him, as though the dawn were coming. But he knew it must be the
+evening, because he was coming back to the place from which he had
+started, and was catching up with the sun. You see, he had only been
+gone a few minutes.
+
+The Cloud Horse flew very low now; and rapidly the darkness grew less.
+Then, long before he expected it, Neville saw the roof of his own home
+below him. He could see the garden in the twilight and his own dog
+sniffing about among the trees as though in search of him.
+
+Neville began to think about jumping now, and he was rather nervous.
+He might land softly and he might not. He only had the wee yellow
+man's word for that.
+
+Then, to his horror, he saw that they had passed his home and were
+over the bald hill. There was no time to lose. The Cloud Horse was
+taking him into the sunset again, and, if he did, what would the head
+scene-shifter say then?
+
+So, grasping the Sky Flower very tightly, Neville closed his eyes and
+jumped. He half expected to fall quickly and be dashed to pieces upon
+the earth; but, instead, he floated in the air like a feather, swaying
+and drifting, and slowly sinking all the time towards the ground. It
+was a very pleasant sensation indeed.
+
+The bald hill was beneath him as he came slowly down, down, down.
+
+He could see the Cloud Horse--now little more than a small white
+speck--rushing on to catch the sunset. And still he sank down ever so
+slowly towards the top of the bald hill.
+
+His little dog had caught sight of him now, and came rushing out the
+gate and up the bald hill, barking loudly. And he kept on sinking
+nearer to the earth, down, down, nearer and nearer--and then, quite
+suddenly, he seemed to forget everything.
+
+The next thing Neville remembered was feeling something wet and warm
+upon his cheek. He opened his eyes and saw that the little dog was
+licking his face. Sitting up, he looked about him. He was in the grass
+on the top of the bald hill; night was very near, and the first star
+was just beginning to twinkle.
+
+Then, quite suddenly, Neville remembered the Cloud horse and the
+little yellow man and the little silver man and the head scene-shifter
+and the wonderful journey and all the rest of it.
+
+"Well, what a remarkable dream," said Neville, stretching his arms.
+And, as he did so, the Sky Flower fell from his hand.
+
+So it was not a dream after all; for, if it was, how could he explain
+that Sky Flower? He picked it up and carried it very tenderly, as he
+set off home to dinner, his little dog trotting at his heels.
+
+"What a beautiful flower!" said Neville's mother when he got home.
+"Where ever did you get it?"
+
+"It is a piece of the genuine sky," said Neville proudly, as he gave
+it to her.
+
+His mother smiled at him as she said, "That is a very nice thing to
+say, and it certainly does look like a little piece of the sky. But,
+of course, it couldn't possibly be a real piece."
+
+Then Neville knew that if he were to tell the story of his wonderful
+ride, and tried to explain that he had been right around the world
+since since he went out to play, his parents would find it very, very
+hard to believe. So he said nothing, but ate a very good dinner.
+
+But Neville's mother put the flower in a vase upon the mantel; and to
+this day it is still there, as fresh and bright as ever. It will not
+fade. Neville's mother thinks that is a very strange and wonderful
+thing. And so it is.
+
+Since that day, when Neville goes to the top of the bald hill to watch
+a sunset, he is almost sure that, just as the golden light is fading,
+he can see a little yellow man by the gateway; and it seems to him
+that the little yellow man waves a cheery greeting. But, whether this
+is so or not, Neville always waves back; and he feels very happy to
+think that he has a good friend inside the sunset.
+
+
+
+THE TRAM-MAN
+
+I'd like to be a Tram-man, and ride about all day,
+Calling out, "Fares, please!" in quite a 'ficious way,
+With pockets full of pennies which I'd make the people pay.
+But in the hottest days I'd take my tram down to the Bay;
+And when I saw the nice cool sea I'd shout "Hip, hip, hooray!"
+But I wouldn't be a Tram-man if. . . .
+ I couldn't stop and play.
+ Would you?
+
+
+
+THE AXE-MAN
+
+High on the hills, where the tall trees grow,
+There lives an axeman that I know.
+From his little hut by a ferny creek,
+Day after day, week after week,
+He goes each morn with his shining axe,
+Trudging along by the forest tracks;
+And he chops and he chops till the daylight goes--
+High on the hills, where the blue-gum grows.
+
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+There's a log to move and a branch to lop.
+Now to the felling! His sharp axe bites
+Into a tree on the forest heights,
+And scarce for a breath does the axeman stop--
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+Bell-birds watch him; and in the fern
+Wallabies listen awhile, and turn
+Back through the bracken, and off they hop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+Patient and tireless, blow on blow
+The axeman swings as the minutes go;
+While the echoes ring from the mountain-top.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+
+Round about him the rabbits play,
+Skipping and scampering all the day,
+And the sweet young grass by the logs they crop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+
+Crimson parrots above him climb,
+Chattering, chattering all the time,
+As down from the branches the twigs they drop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! Chop!)
+Steadily, surely, on he goes,
+Shaking the tree with his mighty blows:
+There's never a pause and there's never a stop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+
+Out from the bush beyond is heard
+The swaggering song of the butcher-bird
+Seeking a joint for his butcher's shop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+Deeper and deeper the cut creeps in,
+While the parrots shriek with a deafening din,
+And the chips fly out with a flip and a flop.
+(Chip! Chop! Chip! Chop!)
+Yellow robins come flocking round,
+Watching the chips as they fall to ground,
+Darting to catch the grubs that drop.
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+
+The blows come quicker. The axe-biade hums,
+Stand well back, there, before she comes!
+Hark! How the splinters crack and pop--
+(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
+Listen! Listen! She's creaking now!
+Look, high up, at that trembling bough!
+Another second, and down she'll smash,
+Shaking the earth with a mighty crash;
+Look at her! Look at her! (Chip! Chop!
+Chip! . . . . . . . .Chip!)
+ Wee--E--E--E--E--E---
+ FLOP!
+
+
+
+THE DROVERS
+
+Out across the spinifex, out across the sand,
+Out across the saltbush to Never Never land
+ That's the way the drovers go, jogging down the track--
+ That's the way the drovers go. But how do they come back?
+Back across the saltbush from Never Never land.
+Back across the spinifex, back across the sand.
+
+
+
+THE LONG ROAD HOME
+
+When I go back from Billy's place I always have to roam
+The mazy road, the crazy road that leads the long way home.
+Ma always says, "Why don't you come through Mr Donkin's land?
+The footbridge track will bring you back." Ma doesn't understand.
+I cannot go that way, you know, because of Donkin's dog;
+So I set forth and travel north, and cross the fallen log.
+
+Last week, when I was coming by, that log had lizards in it;
+And you can't say I stop to play if I just search a minute.
+I look around upon the ground and, if there are no lizards,
+I go right on and reach the turn in front of Mrs Blizzard's.
+I do not seek to cross the creek, because it's deep and floody,
+And Ma would be annoyed with me if I came home all muddy.
+
+Perhaps I throw a stone or so at Mrs Blizzard's tank,
+Because it's great when I aim straight to hear the stone go "Plank!"
+Then west I wend from Blizzard's Bend, and not a moment wait,
+Except, perhaps, at Mr Knapp's, to swing upon his gate.
+So up the hill I go, until I reach the little paddock
+That Mr Jones at present owns and rents to Mr Craddock.
+
+For boys my size the sudden rise is quite a heavy pull,
+And yet I fear a short-cut here because of Craddock's bull;
+So I just tease the bull till he's as mad as he can get,
+And then I face the corner place that's been so long to let.
+It's very well for Ma to tell about my dawdling habits.
+What would you do, suppose you knew the place was thick with rabbits?
+
+I do not stay for half a day, as Ma declares I do.
+No, not for more than half-an-hour--perhaps an hour--or two.
+Then down the drop I run, slip-slop, where all the road is slithy.
+And have to go quite close, you know, to Mr Horner's smithy.
+A moment I might tarry by the fence to watch them hammer,
+And, I must say, learn more that way than doing sums and grammar.
+
+And, if I do sometimes climb through, I do not mean to linger.
+Though I did stay awhile the day Bill Homer burst his finger.
+I just stand there to see the pair bang some hot iron thing
+And watch Bill Horner swing the sledge and hit the anvil--Bing!
+(For Mr Horner and his son are great big brawny fellows:
+Both splendid chaps!) And then, perhaps, they let me blow the bellows.
+
+A while I stop beside the shop, and talk to Mr Horner;
+Then off I run, and race like fun around by Duggan's Corner.
+It's getting late, and I don't wait beside the creek a minute,
+Except to stop, maybe, and drop a few old pebbles in it.
+A few yards more, and here's the store that's kept by Mr Whittle--
+And you can't say I waste the day if I 'ust wait . . . a little.
+
+One day, you know, a year ago, a man gave me a penny,
+And Mr Whittle sold me sweets (but not so very many).
+You never know your luck, and so I look to see what's new
+In Mr Whittle's window. There's a peppermint or two,
+Some buttons and tobacco (Mr Whittle calls it "baccy"),
+And fish in tins, and tape, and pins. . . . And then a voice calls, "Jacky!"
+
+"I'm coming, Ma. I've been so far-around by Duggan's Corner.
+I had to stay awhile to say 'Good day' to Mr Horner.
+I feel so fagged; I've tramped and dragged through mud and over logs, Ma--
+I could not go short-cuts, you know, because of bulls and dogs, Ma.
+The creek, Ma? Why, it's very high! You don't call that a gutter?
+Bill Horner chews tobacco, Ma . . . . I'd like some bread and butter."
+
+
+
+THE BAND
+
+Hey, there! Listen awhile! Listen awhile, and come.
+Down in the street there are marching feet, and I hear the beat of a drum.
+Bim! Boom!! Out of the room! Pick up your hat and fly!
+Isn't it grand? The band! The band! The band is marching by!
+
+Oh, the clarinet is the finest yet, and the uniforms are gay.
+ Tah, rah! We don't go home--
+ Oom, pah! We won't go home--
+Oh, we shan't go home, and we can't go home when the band begins to play.
+
+Oh, see them swinging along, swinging along the street!
+Left, right! buttons so bright, jackets and caps so neat.
+Ho, the Fire Brigade, or a dress parade of the Soldier-men is grand;
+But everyone, for regular fun, wants a Big-Brass-Band.
+
+The slide-trombone is a joy alone, and the drummer! He's a treat!
+ So, Rackety-rumph! We don't go home--
+ Boom, Bumph! We won't go home--
+Oh, we shan't go home, and we can't go home while the band is in the street.
+ Tooral-ooral, Oom-pah!
+ The band is in the street!
+
+
+
+BESSIE AND THE BUNYIP
+
+ Bessie met a bunyip down along the track,
+In his hand a billy and a swag upon his back.
+ And you will hardly believe it, but when Bessie shouted,"Shoo!"
+ He turned a double somersault and went quite blue.
+
+
+
+GOOD ENOUGH
+
+I do not think there ever was,
+ Or ever will, or ever could be,
+A little girl or little boy
+ As good as she or as he should be.
+
+But still, I think, you will agree,
+ Though perfect very, very few are,
+They're not so bad when "pretty good"--
+ That's just about as good as you are.
+
+
+
+THE PORTER
+
+I'd like to be a porter, and always on the run,
+Calling out, "Stand aside!" and asking leave of none.
+Shoving trucks on people's toes, and having splendid fun,
+Slamming all the carriage doors and locking every one--
+And, when they asked to be let in, I'd say, "It can't be done."
+ But I wouldn't be a porter if . . .
+ The luggage weighed a ton.
+ Would you?
+
+
+
+GROWING UP
+
+Little Tommy Tadpole began to weep and wail,
+For little Tommy Tadpole had lost his little tail;
+ And his mother didn't know him as he wept upon a log,
+ For he wasn't Tommy Tadpole, but Mr. Thomas Frog.
+
+
+
+THE UNSOCIABLE WALLABY
+
+Willie spied a wallaby hopping through the fern--
+Here a jump, here a thump, there a sudden turn.
+ Willie called the wallaby, begging him to stop,
+ But he went among the wattles with a
+ flip,
+ flap,
+ flop!
+
+
+
+* * *
+
+I wonder whether, all together, you and I and father
+Could eat a bun that weighs a ton. I'd like to try it, rather.
+
+I want to know why roosters crow at dawning of the day.
+Is it because they cannot think of something else to say?
+
+* * *
+
+
+
+THE SONG OF THE SULKY STOCKMAN
+
+Come, let us sing with a right good ring
+ (Sing hey for lifting lay, sing hey!)
+Of any old, sunny old, silly old thing.
+ (Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
+The sun shone brightly overhead,
+And the shearers stood by the shearing shed;
+But "The run wants rain," the stockman said
+(Sing di-dum, wattle-gum, Narrabori Ned.
+For a lifting lay sing hey!)
+
+The colts were clipped and the sheep were shorn
+ (Sing hey for a lilting lay, sing hey!)
+But the stockman stood there all forlorn.
+ (Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
+The rails were up and the gate was tied,
+And the big black bull was safe inside;
+But "The wind's gone West!" the stockman sighed
+(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, rally for a ride.
+ For a lifting lay sing hey!)
+
+The cook came out as the clock struck one
+ (Sing hey for a lilting lay, sing hey!)
+And the boundary rider got his gun.
+ (Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
+He fired it once at an old black crow;
+But the shot went wide, for he aimed too low;
+And the stockman said, "Fat stock is low."
+(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, Jerridiiii Joe.
+ For a lifting lay sing hey!)
+
+They spread their swags in the gum-tree's shade
+ (Sing hey for a lilting lay, sing hey!)
+For the work was done and the cheques were paid.
+ (Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
+The overseer rode in at three,
+But his horse pulled back and would not gee,
+And the stockman said, "We're up a tree!"
+(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, Johnny-cake for tea.
+ For a lilting lay sing hey!)
+
+The sun sank down and the stars shone out
+ (Sing hey for a lifting lay, sing hey!)
+And the old book-keeper moped about.
+ (Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
+The dingo wailed to the mopoke's call,
+The crazy colt stamped in his stall;
+But the stockman groaned, "it's bunk for all."
+(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, wattle-gum, wattle-gum,
+ Hey for a backblock day!
+ Sing hey!
+ Sing hey for a lifting lay!)
+
+
+
+OUR COW
+
+Down by the sliprails stands our cow
+ Chewing, chewing, chewing,
+She does not care what folks out there
+ In the great, big world are doing.
+She sees the small cloud-shadows pass
+ And green grass shining under.
+If she does think, what does she think
+ About it all, I wonder?
+
+She sees the swallows skimming by
+ Above the sweet young clover,
+The light reeds swaying in the wind
+ And tall trees bending over.
+Far down the track she hears the crack
+ of bullock-whips, and raving
+Of angry men where, in the sun,
+ Her fellow-beasts are slaving.
+
+Girls, we are told, can scratch and scold,
+ And boys will fight and wrangle,
+And big, grown men, just now and then,
+ Fret o'er some fingle-fangle,
+Vexing the earth with grief or mirth,
+ Longing, rejoicing, rueing--
+But by the sliprails stands our cow,
+ Chewing.
+
+
+
+THE TEACHER
+
+I'd like to be a teacher, and have a clever brain,
+Calling out, "Attention, please!" and "Must I speak in vain?"
+I'd be quite strict with boys and girls whose minds I had to train,
+And all the books and maps and things I'd carefully explain;
+I'd make then learn the dates of kings, and all the capes of Spain;
+ But I wouldn't be a teacher if . . .
+ I couldn't use the cane.
+ Would you?
+
+
+
+THE SPOTTED HEIFERS
+
+Mr Jeremiah Jeffers
+Owned a pair of spotted heifers
+These he sold for two pounds ten
+To Mr Robert Raymond Wren
+
+Who reared them in the lucerne paddocks
+Owned by Mr Martin Maddox,
+And sold them, when they grew to cows,
+To Mr Donald David Dowse.
+
+A grazier, Mr Egbert Innes,
+Bought them then for twenty guineas,
+Milked the cows, and sold the milk
+To Mr Stephen Evan Silk.
+
+Who rents a butter factory
+From Mr Laurence Lampard-Lee.
+Here, once a week, come for his butter
+The grocer, Mr Roland Rutter,
+
+Who keeps a shop in Sunny Street
+Next door to Mr Peter Peat.
+He every afternoon at two
+Sent his fair daughter, Lucy Loo,
+
+To Mr Rutter's shop to buy
+Such things as were not priced too high,
+Especially a shilling tin
+Of "Fuller's Food for Folk Too Thin."
+
+This food was bought for Lucy Loo--
+A girl of charming manners, who
+Was much too pale and much too slight
+To be a very pleasant sight.
+
+When Lucy Loo beheld the butter
+Stocked by Mr Roland Rutter,
+She said, "I'll have a pound of that."
+She had it, and thenceforth grew fat.
+
+We now go back to Mr Jeffers,
+Who sold the pair of spotted heifers.
+He had a son, James Edgar John,
+A handsome lad to gaze upon,
+
+Who had now reached that time of life
+When young men feel they need a wife;
+But no young girl about the place
+Exactly had the kind of face
+
+That seemed to suit James Edgar John--
+A saddening thing to think upon,
+For he grew sad and sick of life
+Because he could not find a wife.
+
+One day young James was passing by
+(A look of sorrow in his eye)
+The shop of Mr Roland Rutter,
+When Lucy Loo came out with butter.
+
+At once James Edgar John said, "That
+Is just the girl for me! She's fat."
+He offered her his heart and hand
+And prospects of his father's land.
+
+The Reverend Saul Sylvester Slight
+Performed the simple marriage rite.
+The happy couple went their way,
+And lived and loved unto this day.
+
+Events cannot be far foreseen;
+And all ths joy might not have been
+If Mr Jeremiah Jeffers
+Had kept his pair of spotted heifers.
+
+
+
+TEA TALK
+
+'Excuse me if I sit on you,' the cup said to the saucer.
+ 'I fear I've been here all the afternoon.'
+'Spare excuses,' said the saucer; 'you have sat on me before, sir.'
+ 'Oh, I'll stir him up directly,' said the spoon.
+'Stop your clatter! Stop your clatter!' cried the bread-and-butter platter
+ 'Tittle-tattle!' sneered the tea-pot, with a shrug;
+'Now, the most important question is my chronic indigestion.'
+ 'Ah, you've taken too much tannin,' jeered the jug.
+'Hey, hey, hey!' sang the silver-plated tray,
+'It's time you had your faces washed. I've come to clear away!'
+
+
+
+THE LOOKING-GLASS
+
+When I look into the looking glass
+ I'm always sure to see--
+No matter how I dodge about--
+ Me, looking out at me.
+
+I often wonder as I look,
+ And those strange features spy,
+If I, in there, think I'm as plain
+ As I, out here, think I.
+
+
+
+WOOLLOOMOOLOO
+
+Here's a ridiculous riddle for you:
+ How many o's are there in Woolloomooloo?
+Two for the W, two for the m,
+ Four for the l's, and that's plenty for them.
+
+
+
+* * *
+
+I wonder what the Jacks have got to laugh and laugh about
+I'm sure the worms don't see the joke when Jacky digs them out.
+
+I wonder which is best: a rich plum-pudding stuffed with plums,
+Or lemon ice, or plain boiled rice, or long-division sums.
+
+* * *
+
+
+
+THE BARBER
+
+I'd like to be a barber, and learn to shave and clip,
+Calling out, "Next please!" and pocketing my tip.
+All day I'd hear my scissors going, "Snip, Snip, Snip;"
+I'd lather people's faces, and their noses I would grip
+While I shaved most carefully along the upper lip.
+ But I wouldn't be a barber if . . .
+ The razor was to slip.
+ Would you?
+
+
+
+FARMER JACK
+
+Old farmer Jack gazed on his wheat,
+ And feared the frost would nip it.
+Said he, "it's nearly seven feet--
+ I must begin to strip it."
+
+He stripped it with a stripper and
+ He bagged it with a bagger;
+The bags were all so lumpy that
+ They made the lumper stagger.
+
+The lumper staggered up the stack
+ Where he was told to stack it;
+And Jack was paid and put the cash
+ Inside his linen jacket.
+
+
+
+OLD BLACK JACKO
+
+Old Black Jacko
+ Smokes tobacco
+ In his little pipe of clay.
+Puff, puff, puff,
+He never has enough
+ Though he smokes it all day.
+
+But his lubra says, "Mine tink dat Jacky
+Him shmoke plenty too much baccy."
+
+
+
+BIRD SONG
+
+I detest the Carrion Crow!
+(He's a raven, don't you know?)
+ He's a greedy glutton, also, and a ghoul,
+And his sanctimonious caw
+Rubs my temper on the raw.
+ He's a demon, and a most degraded fowl.
+
+I admire the pert Blue-wren
+And his dainty little hen--
+ Though she hasn't got a trace of blue upon her;
+But she's pleasing, and she's pretty,
+ And she sings a cheerful ditty;
+While her husband is a gentleman of honour.
+
+I despise the Pallid Cuckoo,
+A disreputable "crook" who
+ Shirks her duties for a lazy life of ease.
+I abhor her mournful call,
+Which is not a song at all
+ But a cross between a whimper and a wheeze.
+
+
+
+THE SAILOR
+
+I'd like to be a sailor--a sailor bold and bluff--
+Calling out, "Ship ahoy!" in manly tones and gruff.
+I'd learn to box the compass, and to reef and tack and luff;
+I'd sniff and snifff the briny breeze and never get enough.
+Perhaps I'd chew tobacco, or an old black pipe I'd puff,
+ But I wouldn't be a sailor if . . .
+ The sea was very rough.
+ Would you?
+
+
+
+THE FAMINE
+
+Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!
+How many eggs did you get to-day?
+None in the manger, and none in the shed,
+None in the box where the chickens are fed,
+None in the tussocks and none in the tub,
+And only a little one out in the scrub.
+Oh, I say! Dumplings to-day.
+I fear that the hens must be laying away.
+
+
+
+THE FEAST
+
+Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!
+How many eggs did you get to-day?
+Two in the manger, and four in the shed,
+Six in the box where the chickens are fed,
+Two in the tussocks and ten in the tub,
+And nearly two dozen right out in the scrub.
+Hip, hooray! Pudding to-day!
+I think that the hens are beginning to lay.
+
+
+
+UPON THE ROAD TO ROCKABOUT
+
+Upon the road to Rockabout
+I came upon some sheep--
+A large and woolly flock about
+As wide as it was deep.
+
+I was about to turn about
+To ask the man to tell
+Some things I wished to learn about
+Both sheep and wool as well,
+
+When I beheld a rouseabout
+Who lay upon his back
+Beside a little house about
+A furlong from the track.
+
+I had a lot to talk about,
+And said to him "Good day."
+But he got up to walk about,
+And so I went away--
+
+
+
+A CHANGE OF AIR
+
+Now, a man in Oodnadatta
+He grew fat, and he grew fatter,
+ Though he hardly had a thing to eat for dinner;
+While a man in Booboorowie
+Often sat and wondered how he
+ Could prevent himself from growing any thinner.
+
+So the man from Oodnadatta
+ He came down to Booboorowie,
+Where he rapidly grew flatter;
+ And the folk will tell you how he
+Urged the man from Booboorowie
+ To go up to Oodnadatta--
+Where he lived awhile, and now he
+ Is considerably fatter.
+
+
+
+POLLY DIBBS
+
+Mrs Dibbs--Polly Dibbs,
+ Standing at a tub,
+Washing other people's clothes--
+ Rub-Rub-Rub.
+Poor, old, skinny arms
+ White with soapy foam--
+At night she takes her shabby hat
+ And goes off home.
+
+Mrs Dibbs--Polly Dibbs--
+ Is not very rich.
+She goes abroad all day to scrub,
+ And home at night to stitch.
+She wears her shabby hat awry,
+ Perched on a silly comb;
+And people laugh at Polly Dibbs
+ As she goes home.
+
+Mrs Dibbs--Mother Dibbs--
+ Growing very old,
+Says, "it's a hard world!"
+ And sniffs and drats the cold.
+She says it is a cruel world,
+ A weary world to roam.
+But God will smile on Polly Dibbs
+ When she goes Home.
+
+
+
+* * *
+
+I suspect the Kookaburra,
+For his methods are not thorough
+In his highly praised campaign against the snakes.
+And the small birds, one and all,
+Curse him for a cannibal--
+Though he certainly is cheerful when he wakes.
+
+* * *
+
+
+
+LULLABY
+
+You are much too big to dandle,
+And I will not leave the candle.
+ Go to sleep.
+You are growing naughty, rather,
+And I'll have to speak to father.
+ Go to sleep!
+If you're good I shall not tell, then.
+Oh, a story? Very well, then.
+ Once upon a time, a king, named Crawley Creep,
+Had a very lovely daughter . . . .
+You don't want a drink of water!
+ Go to sleep! There! There! Go to sleep.
+
+
+
+* * *
+
+I wonder why I wear a tie. It is not warm to wear;
+But if I left it off someone would say it was not there.
+
+I wonder, if I took a whiff of father's pipe for fun,
+Would I be big and strong like him, or just his small, sick son?
+
+I wonder when our old white hen will know her squawk betrays her.
+I think she lets us find her eggs just so that we shall praise her.
+
+* * *
+
+
+
+THE PUBLISHER
+
+I'd like to be a publisher, And publish massive tomes
+Written in a massive style by blokes with massive domes--
+Science books, and histories of Egypt's day and Rome's,
+Books of psycho-surgery to mine the minds of momes,
+And solemn pseudo-psychic stuff to tell where Topsy roams
+When her poor clay is put away beneath the spreading holms;
+Books about electrocuting little seeds with ohms
+To sternly show them how to grow in sands, and clays, and loams,
+And bravely burst infinitives, like angry agronomes;
+Books on breeding aeroplanes and airing aerodromes,
+On bees that buzz in bonnets and the kind that build the combs,
+Made plain with pretty pictures done in crimsons, mauves, and chromes;
+And diagrams to baulk the brain of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
+I'd set the scientists to work like superheated gnomes,
+And make them write and write and write until the printer foams
+And lino men, made "loony", go to psychopathic homes.
+I'd publish books, I would--large books on ants and antinomes
+And palimpsests and palinodes and pallid pallindromes:
+ But I wouldn't be a publisher if . . . .
+ I got many "pomes."
+ Would you?
+
+
+
+GOOD NIGHT
+
+And so, Good Night. I'm rather tired.
+I hardly thought I'd be required
+ To draw a lot of pictures, too,
+ When I arranged to write for you.
+I found it hard, but did my best;
+And now I need a little rest.
+ If you are pleased, why, that's all right.
+ I'm rather tired. And so
+
+ GOOD NIGHT!
+
+
+
+This very charming gentleman, extremely old and gruff,
+He slowly shook his head and took a great big pinch of snuff,
+Then he spluttered and he muttered and he loudly shouted "Fie!
+To tear your books is wicked sir! and likewise all my eye!"
+I don't know what he meant by that. He had such piercing eyes.
+And, he said, "Mark--ME--boy! Books will make you wise."
+
+This very charming gentleman said, "Hum," and "Hoity, Toit!
+A book is not a building block, a cushion or a quoit.
+Soil your books and spoil your books? Is that the thing to do?
+Gammon, sir! and Spinach, sir! And Fiddle-faddle, too!"
+He blinked so quick, and thumped his stick, then gave me such a stare.
+And he said, "Mark--ME--boy! BOOKS--NEED--CARE!"
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book for Kids
+by C. J. (Clarence Michael James) Dennis
+
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