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diff --git a/old/30272.txt b/old/30272.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8848f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/30272.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2674 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Very Short Stories and Verses For Children, by +Mrs. W. K. Clifford + +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: Very Short Stories and Verses For Children + +Author: Mrs. W. K. Clifford + +Illustrator: Edith Campbell + +Release Date: October 16, 2009 [EBook #30272] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERY SHORT STORIES AND VERSES *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Diane Monico, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + + +VERY SHORT STORIES + +MRS. W. K. CLIFFORD + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration: "APPLE BLOSSOM, I AM WAITING; ARE YOU HERE?" _P_. 14] + + + + +VERY SHORT STORIES + +AND + +VERSES FOR CHILDREN. + +BY + +MRS. W. K. CLIFFORD, + +AUTHOR OF "ANYHOW STORIES," &c. + + +_With Illustrations by Edith Campbell._ + + +LONDON: +WALTER SCOTT, 24 WARWICK LANE, +PATERNOSTER ROW. +1886. + + + + +Preface. + + +These stories, with the exception of the first one, are reprinted from +two little books--"Children Busy," etc., and "Under Mother's Wing." +They were then only signed with my initials. Some of the verses appear +now for the first time. + +L. C. + + + + +_TO YOU--AND ETHEL AND ALICE_ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + +MASTER WILLIE 9 + +SWINGING 17 + +THE WOODEN DOLL 18 + +WATCHING 20 + +THE LIGHT ON THE HILLS 22 + +WRITING A BOOK 25 + +THE RABBIT 27 + +THE SANDY CAT 28 + +ON THE WAY TO THE SUN 30 + +IN THE MOONLIGHT 33 + +THE POOR LITTLE DOLL 35 + +THE VIOLETS 37 + +THE FIDDLER 39 + +THE BROKEN HORSE 40 + +THE RAINBOW-MAKER 41 + +OVER THE PORRIDGE 43 + +A-COMING DOWN THE STREET 45 + +THE PROUD BOY 47 + +SEEKING THE VIOLETS 49 + +TOMMY'S STOCKINGS 51 + +MIDSUMMER-NIGHT 52 + +THE LITTLE MAID 54 + +WAR 55 + +PEACE 56 + +MY LITTLE BROTHER 58 + +THE KITE 59 + +THE TINKER'S MARRIAGE 61 + +THE CHILDREN AND THE GARLAND 62 + +ROUND THE TEA-TABLE 64 + +TOMMY 67 + +THE SWALLOWS 69 + +A FIRST LOVE-MAKING 71 + +SMUT 72 + +SEE-SAW 74 + +THE BAD GIRL 75 + +MORNING TIME 78 + +THE PINK PARASOL 80 + +THE SISTERS 82 + +THE WHITE RABBITS 83 + +THE WOODEN HORSE 84 + +THE DUCK POND 86 + +THE LITTLE MAID 88 + +THE DONKEY ON WHEELS 89 + +COCK-A-DOODLE 91 + +THE BOY AND LITTLE GREAT LADY 92 + +GOOD-DAY, GENTLE FOLK 94 + + + + +MASTER WILLIE. + + +There was once a little boy called Willie. I never knew his other name, +and as he lived far off behind the mountain, we cannot go to inquire. +He had fair hair and blue eyes, and there was something in his face +that, when you had looked at him, made you feel quite happy and rested, +and think of all the things you meant to do by-and-by when you were +wiser and stronger. He lived all alone with the tall aunt, who was very +rich, in the big house at the end of the village. Every morning he went +down the street with his little goat under his arm, and the village +folk looked after him and said, "There goes Master Willie." + +The tall aunt had a very long neck; on the top of it was her head, on +the top of her head she wore a white cap. Willie used often to look up +at her and think that the cap was like snow upon the mountain. She was +very fond of Willie, but she had lived a great many years and was +always sitting still to think them over, and she had forgotten all the +games she used to know, all the stories she had read when she was +little, and when Willie asked her about them, would say, "No, dear, no, +I can't remember; go to the woods and play." Sometimes she would take +his face between her two hands and look at him well while Willie felt +quite sure that she was not thinking of him, but of someone else he did +not know, and then she would kiss him, and turn away quickly, saying, +"Go to the woods, dear; it is no good staying with an old woman." Then +he, knowing that she wanted to be alone, would pick up his goat and +hurry away. + +He had had a dear little sister, called Apple-blossom, but a strange +thing had happened to her. One day she over-wound her very big doll +that talked and walked, and the consequence was quite terrible. No +sooner was the winding-up key out of the doll's side than it blinked +its eyes, talked very fast, made faces, took Apple-blossom by the hand, +saying, "I am not your doll any longer, but you are my little girl," +and led her right away no one could tell whither, and no one was able +to follow. The tall aunt and Willie only knew that she had gone to be +the doll's little girl in some strange place, where dolls were stronger +and more important than human beings. + +After Apple-blossom left him, Willie had only his goat to play with; it +was a poor little thing with no horns, no tail and hardly any hair, but +still he loved it dearly, and put it under his arm every morning while +he went along the street. + +"It is only made of painted wood and a little hair, Master Willie," +said the blacksmith's wife one day. "Why should you care for it; it is +not even alive." + +"But if it were alive, anyone could love it." + +"And living hands made it," the miller's wife said. "I wonder what +strange hands they were;--take care of it for the sake of them, little +master." + +"Yes, dame, I will," he answered gratefully, and he went on his way +thinking of the hands, wondering what tasks had been set them to do +since they fashioned the little goat. He stayed all day in the woods +helping the children to gather nuts and blackberries. In the afternoon +he watched them go home with their aprons full; he looked after them +longingly as they went on their way singing. If he had had a father and +mother, or brothers and sisters, to whom he could have carried home +nuts and blackberries, how merry he would have been. Sometimes he told +the children how happy they were to live in a cottage with the door +open all day, and the sweet breeze blowing in, and the cocks and hens +strutting about outside, and the pigs grunting in the styes at the end +of the garden; to see the mother scrubbing and washing, to know that +the father was working in the fields, and to run about and help and +play, and be cuffed and kissed, just as it happened. Then they would +answer, "But you have the tall lady for your aunt, and the big house to +live in, and the grand carriage to drive in, while we are poor, and +sometimes have little to eat and drink; mother often tells us how fine +it must be to be you." + +"But the food that you eat is sweet because you are very hungry," he +answered them, "and no one sorrows in your house. As for the grand +carriage, it is better to have a carriage if your heart is heavy, but +when it is light, then you can run swiftly on your own two legs." Ah, +poor Willie, how lonely he was, and yet the tall aunt loved him dearly. +On hot drowsy days he had many a good sleep with his head resting +against her high thin shoulders, and her arms about him. + +One afternoon, clasping his goat as usual, he sat down by the pond. All +the children had gone home, so he was quite alone, but he was glad to +look at the pond and think. There were so many strange things in the +world, it seemed as if he would never have done thinking about them, +not if he lived to be a hundred. + +He rested his elbows on his knees and sat staring at the pond. Overhead +the trees were whispering; behind him, in and out of their holes the +rabbits whisked; far off he could hear the twitter of a swallow; the +foxglove was dead, the bracken was turning brown, the cones from the +fir trees were lying on the ground. As he watched, a strange thing +happened. Slowly and slowly the pond lengthened out and out, +stretching away and away until it became a river--a long river that +went on and on, right down the woods, past the great black firs, past +the little cottage that was a ruin and only lived in now and then by a +stray gipsy or a tired tramp, past the setting sun, till it dipped into +space beyond. Then many little boats came sailing towards Willie, and +one stopped quite close to where he sat, just as if it were waiting for +him. He looked at it well; it had a snow-white sail and a little man +with a drawn-sword for a figure-head. A voice that seemed to come from +nowhere asked-- + +"Are you ready, Willie?" Just as if he understood he answered back-- + +"Not yet,--not quite, dear Queen, but I shall be soon. I should like to +wait a little longer." + +"No, no, come now, dear child; they are all waiting for you." So he got +up and stepped into the boat, and it put out before he had even time to +sit down. He looked at the rushes as the boat cut its way through them; +he saw the hearts of the lilies as they lay spread open on their great +wide leaves; he went on and on beneath the crimson sky towards the +setting sun, until he slipped into space with the river. + +He saw land at last far on a-head, and as he drew near it he understood +whither the boat was bound. All along the shore there were hundreds +and hundreds of dolls crowding down to the water's edge, looking as if +they had expected him. They stared at him with their shining round +eyes; but he just clasped his little goat tighter and closer, and +sailed on nearer and nearer to the land. The dolls did not move; they +stood still, smiling at him with their painted lips, then suddenly they +opened their painted mouths and put out their painted tongues at him; +but still he was not afraid. He clasped the goat yet a little closer, +and called out, "Apple-blossom, I am waiting; are you here?" Just as he +had expected, he heard Apple-blossom's voice answering from the back of +the toy-town-- + +"Yes, dear brother, I am coming." So he drew close to the shore, and +waited for her. He saw her a long way off, and waved his hand. + +"I have come to fetch you," he said. + +"But I cannot go with you unless I am bought," she answered, sadly, +"for now there is a wire spring inside me; and look at my arms, dear +brother;" and pulling up her pink muslin sleeves, she showed him that +they were stuffed with sawdust. "Go home, and bring the money to pay +for me," she cried, "and then I can come home again." But the dolls had +crowded up behind, so that he might not turn his boat round. "Straight +on," cried Apple-blossom, in despair; "what does it matter whether you +go backwards or forwards if you only keep straight when you live in a +world that is round?" + +So he sailed on once more beneath the sky that was getting grey, +through all the shadows that gathered round, beneath the pale moon, and +the little stars that came out one by one and watched him from the sky. + +I saw him coming towards the land of story-books. That was how I knew +about him, dear children. He was very tired and had fallen asleep, but +the boat stopped quite naturally, as if it knew that I had been waiting +for him. I stooped, and kissed his eyes, and looked at his little pale +face, and lifting him softly in my arms, put him into this book to +rest. That is how he came to be here for you to know. But in the +toy-land Apple-blossom waits with the wire spring in her breast and the +sawdust in her limbs; and at home, in the big house at the end of the +village, the tall aunt weeps and wails and wonders if she will ever see +again the children she loves so well. + +She will not wait very long, dear children. I know how it will all be. +When it is quite dark to-night, and she is sitting in the leather chair +with the high back, her head on one side, and her poor long neck +aching, quite suddenly she will hear two voices shouting for joy. She +will start up and listen, wondering how long she has been sleeping, and +then she will call out-- + +"Oh, my darlings, is it you?" And they will answer back-- + +"Yes, it is us, we have come, we have come!" and before her will stand +Willie and Apple-blossom. For the big doll will have run down, and the +wire spring and the sawdust will have vanished, and Apple-blossom will +be the doll's little girl no more. Then the tall aunt will look at them +both and kiss them; and she will kiss the poor little goat too, +wondering if it is possible to buy him a new tail. But though she will +say little, her heart will sing for joy. Ah, children, there is no song +that is sung by bird or bee, or that ever burst from the happiest lips, +that is half so sweet as the song we sometimes sing in our hearts--a +song that is learnt by love, and sang only to those who love us. + + + + +SWINGING. + + + I. + + Swing, swing, swing, + Through the drowsy afternoon; + Swing, swing, swing, + Up I go to meet the moon. + Swing, swing, swing, + I can see as I go high + Far along the crimson sky; + I can see as I come down + The tops of houses in the town; + High and low, + Fast and slow, + Swing, swing, swing. + + II. + + Swing, swing, swing, + See! the sun is gone away; + Swing, swing, swing, + Gone to make a bright new day. + Swing, swing, swing. + I can see as up I go + The poplars waving to and fro, + I can see as I come down + The lights are twinkling in the town, + High and low, + Fast and slow, + Swing, swing, swing. + + + + +THE WOODEN DOLL. + + +The wooden doll had no peace. My dears, if ever you are a doll, hope to +be a rag doll, or a wax doll, or a doll full of sawdust apt to ooze +out, or a china doll easy to break--anything in the world rather than a +good strong wooden doll with a painted head and movable joints, for +that is indeed a sad thing to be. Many a time the poor wooden doll +wished it were a tin train, or a box of soldiers, or a woolly lamb, or +anything on earth rather than what it was. It never had any peace; it +was taken up and put down at all manners of odd moments, made to go to +bed when the children went to bed, to get up when they got up, be +bathed when they were bathed, dressed when they were dressed, taken out +in all weathers, stuffed into their satchels when they went to school, +left about in corners, dropped on stairs, forgotten, neglected, bumped, +banged, broken, glued together,--anything and everything it suffered, +until many a time it said sadly enough to its poor little self, "I +might as well be a human being at once and be done with it!" And then +it fell to thinking about human beings; what strange creatures they +were, always going about, though none carried them save when they were +very little; always sleeping and waking, and eating and drinking, and +laughing and crying, and talking and walking, and doing this and that +and the other, never resting for long together, or seeming as if they +could be still for even a single day. "They are always making a noise," +thought the wooden doll; "they are always talking and walking about, +always moving things and doing things, building up and pulling down, +and making and unmaking for ever and for ever, and never are they +quiet. It is lucky that we are not all human beings, or the world would +be worn out in no time, and there would not be a corner left in which +to rest a poor doll's head." + + + + +WATCHING. + + + Dear father's ship is very near, + We'll blow him kisses, baby dear,-- + He may come home to-day. + A happy wind that journeys south + Seems just to linger round my mouth, + Then bear a kiss away. + + Come, baby, I will hold you--so, + We'll watch the waves that outward go, + And call, "Come back to-day!" + For father's heart seems always near, + And who can tell but he may hear, + Or know the words we say? + + All round and up the cottage wall + The honeysuckle's grown so tall, + It sees above the gate; + The flowers came hurrying up so sweet-- + We told the little seeds they'd meet + Dear father,--and they wait. + + We first shall see a speck of white, + Far, far away, there where the light + Has swept the morning dim; + So silent will his coming seem, + 'Twill be like waking from a dream + To wave our hands to him. + + And then, and then he'll hoist you high, + And swiftly pass the people by, + Just stopping here and there + To shake the neighbours by the hand, + And tell them of the southern land, + And ask them how they fare. + + He is not very far away, + For mother said he'd come to-day-- + We knew it by her face; + She caught you up and kissed you so, + And now she's busy to and fro, + And sings about the place. + + + + +THE LIGHT ON THE HILLS. + + +"I want to work at my picture," he said, and went into the field. The +little sister went too, and stood by him watching while he painted. + +"The trees are not quite straight," she said, presently, "and oh, dear +brother, the sky is not blue enough." + +"It will all come right soon," he answered. "Will it be of any good?" + +"Oh yes," she said, wondering that he should even ask, "it will make +people happy to look at it. They will feel as if they were in the +field." + +"If I do it badly, will it make them unhappy?" + +"Not if you do your very best," she answered; "for they will know how +hard you have tried. Look up," she said suddenly, "look up at the light +upon the hills," and they stood together looking at all he was trying +to paint, at the trees and the field, at the deep shadows and the hills +beyond, and the light that rested upon them. + +"It is a beautiful world," the girl said. "It is a great honour to make +things for it." + +"It is a beautiful world," the boy echoed sadly. "It is a sin to +disgrace it with things that are badly done." + +"But you will do things well?" + +"I get so tired," he said, "and long to leave off so much. What do you +do when you want to do your best,--your very, very best?" he asked, +suddenly. + +"I think that I am doing it for the people I love," she answered. "It +makes you very strong if you think of them; you can bear pain, and walk +far, and do all manner of things, and you don't get tired so soon." + +He thought for a moment. "Then I shall paint my picture for you," he +said; "I shall think of you all the time I am doing it." + +Once more they looked at the hills that seemed to rise up out of the +deep shadows into the light, and then together they went home. + +Soon afterwards a great sorrow came to the boy. While the little sister +slept, she wandered into another world, and journeyed on so far that +she lost the clue to earth, and came back no more. The boy painted many +pictures before he saw the field again, but in the long hours, as he +sat and worked, there came to him a strange power that answered more +and more truly to the longing in his heart--the longing to put into the +world something of which he was not ashamed, something which should +make it, if only in the person of its meanest, humblest citizen, a +little happier or better. + +At last, when he knew that his eye was true and his touch sure, he took +up the picture he had promised to paint for the dear sister, and +worked at it until he was finished. + +"This is better than all he has done before," the beholders said. "It +is surely beautiful, for it makes one happy to look at it." + +"And yet my heart ached as I did it," the boy said, as he went back to +the field. "I thought of her all the time I worked,--it was sorrow that +gave me power." It seemed as if a soft voice, that spoke only to his +heart, answered back-- + +"Not sorrow but love, and perfect love has all things in its gift, and +of it are all things born save happiness, and though that may be born +too----" + +"How does one find happiness?" interrupted the boy. + +"It is a strange chase," the answer seemed to be; "to find it for one's +own self, one must seek it for others. We all throw the ball for each +other." + +"But it is so difficult to seize." + +"Perfect love helps one to live without happiness," his own heart +answered to himself; "and above all things it helps one to work and to +wait." + +"But if it gives one happiness too?" he asked eagerly. + +"Ah, then it is called Heaven." + + + + +WRITING A BOOK. + + +"Let us write a book," they said; "but what shall it be about?" + +"A fairy story," said the elder sister. + +"A book about kings and queens," said the other. + +"Oh, no," said the brother, "let's write about animals." + +"We will write about them all," they cried together. So they put the +paper, and pens, and ink ready. The elder sister took up a fairy story +and looked at it, and put it down again. + +"I have never known any fairies," she said, "except in books; but, of +course, it would not do to put one book inside another--anyone could do +that." + +"I shall not begin to-day," the little one said, "for I must know a few +kings and queens before I write about them, or I may say something +foolish." + +"I shall write about the pig, and the pony, and the white rabbit," said +the brother; "but first I must think a bit. It would never do to write +a book without thinking." + +Then the elder sister took up the fairy story again, to see how many +things were left out, for those, she thought, would do to go into her +book. The little one said to herself, "Really, it is no good thinking +about kings and queens until I have known some, so I must wait;" and +while the brother was considering about the pig, and the pony, and the +white rabbit, he fell asleep. + +So the book is not written yet, but when it is we shall know a great +deal. + + + + +THE RABBIT. + + + The moon is shining o'er the field, + A little breeze is blowing, + The radish leaves are crisp and green, + The lettuces are growing. + + The owl is in the ivy-bush, + With both his eyes a-winking; + The rabbit shakes his little tail, + And sits him down a-thinking-- + + "Oh! where are all the dormice gone? + And are the frogs a-wooing? + Will no one come to play with me? + What are they all a-doing?" + + Poor little rabbit, all alone, + Don't let the master meet you; + He'll shoot you with his little gun, + And merrily he'll eat you! + + + + +THE SANDY CAT. + + +The sandy cat sat by the kitchen fire. Yesterday it had had no supper; +this morning everyone had forgotten it. All night it had caught no +mice; all day as yet it had tasted no milk. A little grey mouse, a +saucerful of milk, a few fish or chicken bones, would have satisfied +it; but no grey mouse, with its soft stringy tail behind it, ran across +the floor; no milk was near, no chicken bones, no fish, no anything. +The serving-maid had been washing clothes, and was hanging them out to +dry. The children had loitered on their way to school, and were +wondering what the master would say to them. The father had gone to the +fair to help a neighbour to choose a horse. The mother sat making a +patchwork quilt. No one thought of the sandy cat; it sat by the fire +alone and hungry. + +At last the clothes were all a-drying, the children had been scolded, +and sat learning a lesson for the morrow. The father came from the +fair, and the patchwork quilt was put away. The serving-maid put on a +white apron with a frill, and a clean cap, then taking the sandy cat in +her arms, said, "Pussy, shall we go into the garden?" So they went and +walked up and down, up and down the pathway, till at last they stopped +before a rose tree; the serving-maid held up the cat to smell the +roses, but with one long bound it leaped from her arms and +away--away--away. + +Whither? + +Ah, dear children, I cannot tell, for I was not there to see; but if +ever you are a sandy cat you will know that it is a terrible thing to +be asked to smell roses when you are longing for a saucerful of milk +and a grey mouse with a soft stringy tail. + + + + +ON THE WAY TO THE SUN. + + +He had journeyed a long way, and was very tired. It seemed like a dream +when he stood up after a sleep in the field, and looked over the wall, +and saw the garden, and the flowers, and the children playing all +about. He looked at the long road behind him, at the dark wood and the +barren hills; it was the world to which he belonged. He looked at the +garden before him, at the big house, and the terrace, and the steps +that led down to the smooth lawn--it was the world which belonged to +the children. + +"Poor boy," said the elder child, "I will get you something to eat." + +"But where did he come from?" the gardener asked. + +"We do not know," the child answered; "but he is very hungry, and +mother says we may give him some food." + +"I will take him some milk," said the little one; in one hand she +carried a mug and with the other she pulled along her little broken +cart. + +"But what is he called?" asked the gardener. + +"We do not know," the little one answered; "but he is very thirsty, and +mother says we may give him some milk." + +"Where is he going?" asked the gardener. + +"We do not know," the children said; "but he is very tired." + +When the boy had rested well, he got up saying, "I must not stay any +longer," and turned to go on his way. + +"What have you to do?" the children asked. + +"I am one of the crew, and must help to make the world go round," he +answered. + +"Why do we not help too?" + +"You are the passengers." + +"How far have you to go?" they asked. + +"Oh, a long way!" he answered. "On and on until I can touch the sun." + +"Will you really touch it?" they said, awestruck. + +"I dare say I shall tire long before I get there," he answered sadly. +"Perhaps without knowing it, though, I shall reach it in my sleep," he +added. But they hardly heard the last words, for he was already far +off. + +"Why did you talk to him?" the gardener said. "He is just a working +boy." + +"And we do nothing! It was very good of him to notice us," they said, +humbly. + +"Good!" said the gardener in despair. "Why, between you and him there +is a great difference." + +"There was only a wall," they answered. "Who set it up?" they asked +curiously. + +"Why, the builders, of course. Men set it up." + +"And who will pull it down?" + +"It will not want any pulling down," the man answered grimly. "Time +will do that." + +As the children went back to their play, they looked up at the light +towards which the boy was journeying. + +"Perhaps we too shall reach it some day," they said. + + + + +IN THE MOONLIGHT. + + +He picked a buttercup, and held it up to her chin. "Do you like +butter?" he asked. + +"Butter!" she exclaimed. "They are not made into butter. They are made +into crowns for the Queen; she has a new one every morning." + +"I'll make you a crown," he said. "You shall wear it to-night." + +"But where will my throne be?" she asked. + +"It shall be on the middle step of the stile by the corn-field." + +So when the moon rose I went out to see. + +He wore a red jacket and his cap with the feather in it. Round her head +there was a wreath of buttercups; it was not much like a crown. On one +side of the wreath there were some daisies, and on the other was a +little bunch of blackberry-blossom. + +"Come and dance in the moonlight," he said; so she climbed up and over +the stile, and stood in the corn-field holding out her two hands to +him. He took them in his, and then they danced round and round all down +the pathway, while the wheat nodded wisely on either side, and the +poppies awoke and wondered. On they went, on and on through the +corn-field towards the broad green meadows stretching far into the +distance. On and on, he shouting for joy, and she laughing out so +merrily that the sound travelled to the edge of the wood, and the +thrushes heard, and dreamed of Spring. On they went, on and on, and +round and round, he in his red jacket, and she with the wild flowers +dropping one by one from her wreath. On and on in the moonlight, on and +on till they had danced all down the corn-field, till they had crossed +the green meadows, till they were hidden in the mist beyond. + +That is all I know; but I think that in the far far off somewhere, +where the moon is shining, he and she still dance along a corn-field, +he in his red jacket, and she with the wild flowers dropping from her +hair. + + + + +THE POOR LITTLE DOLL. + + +It was a plain little doll that had been bought for sixpence at a stall +in the market-place. It had scanty hair and a weak composition face, a +calico body and foolish feet that always turned inwards instead of +outwards, and from which the sawdust now and then oozed. Yet in its +glass eyes there was an expression of amusement; they seemed to be +looking not at you but through you, and the pursed-up red lips were +always smiling at what the glass eyes saw. + +"Well, you _are_ a doll," the boy said, looking up from his French +exercise. "And what are you staring at me for--is there anything +behind?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. The doll made no answer. +"And whatever are you smiling for?" he asked; "I believe you are always +smiling. I believe you'd go on if I didn't do my exercise till next +year, or if the cat died, or the monument tumbled down." But still the +doll smiled in silence, and the boy went on with his exercise. +Presently he looked up again and yawned. "I think I'll go for a +stroll," he said, and put his book by. "I know what I'll do," he said, +suddenly; "I'll take that doll and hang it up to the apple tree to +scare away the sparrows." And calling out, "Sis, I have taken your +doll; I'm going to make a scarecrow of it," he went off to the garden. + +His sister rushed after him, crying out, "Oh, my poor doll! oh, my dear +little doll! What are you doing to it, you naughty boy?" + +"It's so ugly," he said. + +"No, it is not ugly," she cried. + +"And it's so stupid,--it never does anything but smile,--it can't even +grow,--it never gets any bigger." + +"Poor darling doll," Sis said, as she got it once more safely into her +arms, "of course you can't grow, but it is not your fault, they did not +make any tucks in you to let out." + +"And it's so unfeeling. It went smiling away like anything when I could +not do my French." + +"It has no heart. Of course it can't feel." + +"Why hasn't it got a heart?" + +"Because it isn't alive. You ought to be sorry for it, and very, very +kind to it, poor thing." + +"Well, what is it always smiling for?" + +"Because it is so good," answered Sis, bursting into tears. "It is +never bad-tempered; it never complains, and it never did anything +unkind," and, kissing it tenderly, "you are always good and sweet," she +said, "and always look smiling, though you must be very unhappy at not +being alive." + + + + +THE VIOLETS. + + +The sun came out and shone down on the leafless trees that cast hardly +any shadows on the pathway through the woods. + +"Surely the Spring is coming," the birds said; "it must be time to wake +the flowers." + +The thrush, and the lark, and the linnet sang sweetly. A robin flew up +from the snow, and perched upon a branch; a little ragged boy at the +end of the wood stopped and listened. + +"Surely the Spring is coming," he too said; "and mother will get well." + +The flowers that all through the Winter had been sleeping in the ground +heard the birds, but they were drowsy, and longed to sleep on. At last +the snowdrops came up and looked shiveringly about; and a primrose leaf +peeped through the ground, and died of cold. Then some violets opened +their blue eyes, and, hidden beneath the tangle of the wood, listened +to the twittering of the birds. The little ragged boy came by; he saw +the tender flowers, and, stooping down, gathered them one by one, and +put them into a wicker basket that hung upon his arm. + +"Dear flowers," he said, with a sigh, as if loth to pick them, "you +will buy poor mother some breakfast," and, tying them up into little +bunches, he carried them to the town. All the morning he stood by the +road-side, offering his flowers to the passers-by, but no one took any +notice of him; and his face grew sad and troubled. "Poor mother!" he +said, longingly; and the flowers heard him, and sighed. + +"Those violets are very sweet," a lady said as she passed; the boy ran +after her. + +"Only a penny," he said, "just one penny, for mother is at home." Then +the lady bought them, and carried them to the beautiful house in which +she lived, and gave them some water, touching them so softly that the +poor violets forgot to long for the woods, and looked gratefully up +into her face. + +"Mother," said the boy, "see, I have brought some bread for your +breakfast. The violets sent it to you," and he put the little loaf down +before her. + +The birds knew nothing of all this, and went on singing till the ground +was covered with flowers, till the leaves had hidden the brown branches +of the trees, and the pathway through the woods was all shade, save for +the sunshine that flecked it with light. + + + + +THE FIDDLER. + + + The fiddler played upon his fiddle + All through that leafy June, + He always played hey-diddle-diddle, + And played it out of tune. + + And down the hill the children came, + And down the valley too: + I never heard the fiddler's name, + So cannot tell it you. + Hey-diddle-diddle, diddle-diddle-dee. + + On--on they came, and when they heard + That tune so swift and sweet, + They did not say a single word, + But shuffled with their feet. + + Then round they went, and round and round, + All to that cracked old fiddle, + And still was heard the magic sound, + Hey-diddle-diddle-diddle, + Hey-diddle-diddle, diddle-diddle-dee. + + + + +THE BROKEN HORSE. + + +They were all very sad, and the girl in the pink frock was crying +bitterly, for they had been to the woods, and on the way home the +wooden horse had fallen over on one side and broken off his head. + +"Don't cry so, pray don't cry so," the little one said, as she knelt +down in front of her sister, and tried to kiss her. + +"And oh, sister," said the brother, "it would have been far worse if he +had lost his tail too. Besides, perhaps he does not mind much; it is +not as if he were alive." + +"Ah, yes," sobbed the tall girl. "But when you are as old as I am you +will know that it is a terrible thing to lose your head, even if it is +only wooden." + + + + +THE RAINBOW-MAKER. + + +The children stood under an archway. Behind them was the blue sky; in +front of them the clear, still lake that wandered and wound about the +garden; above their heads the leaves of a tree whispered and told +strange stories to the breeze. + +"Poor tree! it is sighing for the blossoms the wind has carried away," +they said to each other, and they looked back at the garden. "And, poor +flowers, too," they said, "all your bright colours are gone, and your +petals lie scattered on the ground; to-morrow they will be dead." "Ah, +no," the flowers sighed, "the rainbow-maker will gather them up, and +once more they will see the sun." Before the children could answer, a +tall fair maiden came down the pathway. They could see her plainly in +the twilight. Her eyes were dim with gathering tears, but on her lips +there was a smile that came and went and flickered round her mouth. All +down her back hung her pale golden hair; round her neck was a kerchief +of many colours; her dress was soft and white, and her snowy apron was +gathered up in one hand. She looked neither to the right nor to the +left. She did not utter a single word; and the children could hear no +sound of her footstep, no rustling from her dress. She stooped, and +picking up the fading petals, looked at them tenderly for a moment, +while the tears fell slowly down her cheeks; but the smile hovered +round her mouth; for she knew that they would shine again in the sight +of their beloved sun. When her apron was quite full, she turned round +and left the garden. Hand-in-hand the children followed. She went +slowly on by the side of the lake, far, far away across the meadows and +up the farthest hill, until at last she found her home behind a cloud +just opposite the sun. There she sat all through the summer days making +rainbows. When the children had watched her for a long long time, they +went softly back to their own home. The rainbow-maker had not even seen +them. + +"Mother," they said one day, "we know now where the colours go from the +flowers. See, they are there," and as they spoke they thought of the +maiden sitting silently at work in her cloud-home. They knew that she +was weeping at sending forth her most beautiful one, and yet smiling as +she watched the soft archway she had made. "See, they are all there, +dear mother," the children repeated, looking at the falling rain and +the shining sun, and pointing to the rainbow that spanned the river. + + + + +OVER THE PORRIDGE. + + +They sat down to eat their porridge. The naughty little girl turned her +back upon her sister, and put a large spoonful into her mouth. + +"Oh--oh--oh!" she cried, "I have burnt my tongue." + +"Eat it slowly," said the good little sister. _She_ took up her +porridge carefully, and after blowing it very gently, and waiting for a +minute or two while it cooled, ate it, and found it very nice. + +"I shall not eat mine until it is quite cold," said Totsey, getting +cross. + +"Then it will be nasty," said the good little sister, still going on +with her own porridge. + +"Oh, dear," said Totsey, "if I eat it too hot it burns me, and if I eat +it too cold it's nasty. What shall I do?" + +"Take it as I do mine," said the good little sister. "It is the right +way." + +"There are two wrong ways and only one right way; it isn't fair," +sighed the naughty little girl. "And, oh! my porridge is so nasty." +Then she asked, "Did you ever eat your porridge too hot and burn your +tongue?" + +"No," answered the good little sister; "I never ate my porridge too hot +and burnt my tongue." + +"Did you ever eat your porridge when it was quite cold and very nasty?" + +"No," answered the good little sister again; "I never ate my porridge +when it was quite cold and very nasty." + +"Well, I have," said Totsey; "and so I know about two things that you +do not know about." And the naughty little sister got up and walked +away, and the good little sister sat still and thought about many +things. + + + + +A-COMING DOWN THE STREET. + + + I. + + The baby she has golden hair, + Her cheeks are like a rose, + And she sits fastened in her chair, + A-counting of her toes. + The mother she stands by the door, + And all the place is neat, + She says, "When it is half-past four, + He'll come along the street." + And O! in all this happy world + There's not a sight so sweet, + As 'tis to see the master, dear, + A-coming down the street. + A-coming O! a-coming O! + A-coming down the street. + + II. + + The baby's sister toddles round, + And sings a little song, + And every word and every sound + Says, "Father won't be long." + And when he comes we'll laugh for glee, + And then his bonnie face, + However dark the day may be, + Makes sunshine in the place. + And O! in all this happy world + There's not a sight so sweet, + As 'tis to see the master, dear, + A-coming down the street, + A-coming O! a-coming O! + A-coming down the street. + + + + +THE PROUD BOY. + + +There was once a very proud boy. He always walked through the village +with his eyes turned down and his hands in his pockets. The boys used +to stare at him, and say nothing; and when he was out of sight, they +breathed freely. So the proud boy was lonely, and would have had no +friends out of doors if it had not been for two stray dogs, the green +trees, and a flock of geese upon the common. + +One day, just by the weaver's cottage, he met the tailor's son. Now the +tailor's son made more noise than any other boy in the village, and +when he had done anything wrong he stuck to it, and said he didn't +care; so the neighbours thought that he was very brave, and would do +wonders when he came to be a man, and some of them hoped he would be a +great traveller, and stay long in distant lands. When the tailor's son +saw the proud boy he danced in front of him, and made faces, and +provoked him sorely, until, at last, the proud boy turned round and +suddenly boxed the ears of the tailor's son, and threw his hat into the +road. The tailor's son was surprised, and, without waiting to pick up +his hat, ran away, and sitting down in the carpenter's yard, cried +bitterly. After a few minutes, the proud boy came to him and returned +him his hat, saying politely-- + +"There is no dust on it; you deserved to have your ears boxed, but I am +sorry I was so rude as to throw your hat on to the road." + +"I thought you were proud," said the tailor's son, astonished; "I +didn't think you'd say that--I wouldn't." + +"Perhaps you are not proud?" + +"No, I am not." + +"Ah, that makes a difference," said the proud boy, still more politely. +"When you are proud, and have done a foolish thing, you make a point of +owning it." + +"But it takes a lot of courage," said the tailor's son. + +"Oh, dear, no," answered the proud boy; "it only takes a lot of +cowardice not to;" and then turning his eyes down again, he softly +walked away. + + + + +SEEKING THE VIOLETS. + + +All the wood had been blue with violets, but now they were nearly gone. +The birds sang louder and louder to keep them and to call them back, +but soon there was not a violet left in all the wood from end to end. +The snowdrops died, and the primrose faded, the cowslips and blue-bells +vanished, the thorn grew white with blossom, the wild honeysuckle +filled the wood with its fragrance, and soon the fruit began to ripen. + +The blackbirds and the swallows and the chaffinches, and all the birds +they knew, gathered round the garden trees and bushes, and forgot the +woods, until suddenly one day they espied a little child. She was +sitting on a chair under a tree; she had a little table before her and +a pink ribbon round her hat; she was eating fruit with a large silver +spoon. The birds were afraid, and held aloof until a sparrow chirped +and the child looked up, and when they saw how blue her eyes were, they +sang out bravely and fluttered round her, thinking that she had brought +them news from the violets. But she never looked up again, though the +birds crowded on to the branch above her, and perched upon the table, +and rubbed their little beaks against her plate. She just held on her +hat with one hand, and with the other went on taking up fruit with a +silver spoon. + +"Ah, dear child," a swallow twittered, "perhaps you do not know what is +written in your eyes; so many of us carry secrets that we ourselves +know last of all." + + + + +TOMMY'S STOCKINGS. + + + Two little maids went out one day, + And really it was shocking! + They met poor Tommy on the way, + With holes in either stocking. + + They sat down on a low stone seat, + And to and fro kept rocking, + While they knitted, swift and neat, + Each of them a stocking. + + And sweet they sang a little song, + The dickie-birds kept mocking; + And Tommy wished that all day long + They'd sit and knit a stocking. + + + + +MIDSUMMER-NIGHT. + + +The children were very much puzzled what to do, for it was +Midsummer-night, and they knew that there was a dream belonging to it; +but how to come across it they could not tell. They knew that the dream +had something to do with fairies, a queen, and all manner of lovely +things; but that was all. At first they thought they would sit up with +the doors and windows open, and the dog on the steps ready to bark if +he saw anything unusual. Then they felt sure that they could not dream +while they were wide-awake, so three of them went to bed, and one dozed +in a corner of the porch, with her clothes on. Presently the dog +barked, and two children in their night-gowns ran out to see, and one +took off her night-cap and looked out of window; but it was only old +Nurse coming back from a long gossip with the village blacksmith's wife +and mother-in-law. So the dog looked foolish, and Nurse was angry, and +put them all to bed without any more ado. + +"Oh," they cried, "but the fairies, and the queen, and the flowers! +What shall we do to see them?" + +"Go to sleep," said Nurse, "and the dream may come to you;--you can't +go to a dream," she added, for you see she was just a peasant woman, +and had never travelled far, or into any land but her own. + +So the children shut their eyes tightly and went to sleep, and I think +that they saw something, for their eyes were very bright next morning, +and one of them whispered to me, softly, "The queen wore a wreath of +flowers last night, dear mother, and, oh, she was very beautiful." + + + + +THE LITTLE MAID. + + + A little maid went to market, + She went into the town, + And all the things she had to buy + She carefully wrote down. + The coffee, sugar, tea, and rice-- + The currant cake for tea, + And then she had to reckon up, + And see how much they'd be. + + She sat her down as she came back, + She sat her down to see + What they had cost--the currant cake, + The coffee, and the tea. + She could not make her money right, + And yet, how she did try! + She could not make her money right, + And oh! how she did cry. + + She's counting still, my dears, my dears, + She's counting day and night, + But though she counts for years and years, + She'll never make it right. + She'll never make it right--right--right, + Oh! never any more, + Though she sits counting--count--count--count, + Till she is ninety-four. + + + + +WAR. + + +"I don't like you," said he, in a rage. + +"You are a naughty boy," said she, crossly. + +"I shall never speak to you again." + +"I shall never play with you any more." + +"I don't care." + +"And I don't care." + +"I shall tell of you." + +"All right. I shall tell of you." + +"Nasty mean thing to threaten." + +"You threatened first." + +"Nasty, disagreeable thing." + +"Ugly, unkind boy." Then they turned back to back, and stood sulking. +He put his hands into his pockets, and she sucked her finger. + +"That's the worst of a girl," thought he; "I shan't give in." + +"I can't bear boys," thought she; "and I won't make it up to-day." + +"We might have had good fun all this afternoon if she hadn't been so +silly," he thought presently. + +"It would have been so nice if he hadn't been disagreeable," she +thought after a bit. Then he began to fidget and to kick the floor a +little with one foot, and she began to cry and to wipe her tears away +very softly and quickly, so that he might not see them. + + + + +PEACE. + + +He looked over his shoulder quickly. She saw him, and turned still more +quickly away. "I shall go and take a long walk in the woods," he said. + +"You don't know where the rabbit-holes are," she answered. + +"Yes, I do; I found them out the other day." + +"I shall go out with Mary." + +"All right." + +"And I shall never go into the woods with you any more." + +"Very well. I don't care," he said. Then she broke down and sobbed. + +"You are a very unkind boy." + +"It's all your fault." + +"No, it's all yours. You began." + +"No, you began." + +"You don't like me now," she sobbed. + +"Yes, I do." + +"You said I was a nasty, disagreeable thing." + +"Well, I didn't mean it if I did. You said I was an ugly, unkind boy." + +"Oh, but I didn't mean it," she said. + +"You know I'm very fond of you." + +"So am I of you." + +"All right, then, let's make it up." So he turned round quickly and she +turned round slowly, and he put his arms round her waist, and she put +her hands up on to his shoulders, and they kissed each other, and +hugged each other, and rubbed noses, and laughed. + +"Shall we go to the woods?" she asked, doubtfully. + +"Yes, come along." + +"You said you'd go without me," she pouted. + +"Oh, but I shouldn't have liked it a bit." + +"And I should have been so unhappy," she said. + +"And now we just will have a game," he answered, as hand-in-hand they +went off as fast as they could scamper. + + + + +MY LITTLE BROTHER. + + + My baby brother's fat, as fat + As any boy can be, + And he is just the sweetest duck + That ever you did see. + + I count the dimples in his hands + A dozen times a-day, + And often wonder when he coos + What he would like to say. + + I comb the down upon his head-- + He hasn't any hair,-- + It must be cold without, and yet + He never seems to care. + + It is so nice to see him kick, + He has such pretty feet; + I think if we might eat him up + It would be quite a treat. + + + + +THE KITE. + + +It was the most tiresome kite in the world, always wagging its tail, +shaking its ears, breaking its string, sitting down on the tops of +houses, getting stuck in trees, entangled in hedges, flopping down on +ponds, or lying flat on the grass, and refusing to rise higher than a +yard from the ground. + +I have often sat and thought about that kite, and wondered who its +father and mother were. Perhaps they were very poor people, just made +of newspaper and little bits of common string knotted together, obliged +to fly day and night for a living, and never able to give any time to +their children or to bring them up properly. It was pretty, for it had +a snow-white face, and pink and white ears; and, with these, no one, +let alone a kite, could help being pretty. But though the kite was +pretty, it was not good, and it did not prosper; it came to a bad end, +oh! a terrible end indeed. It stuck itself on a roof one day, a common +red roof with a broken chimney and three tiles missing. It stuck itself +there, and it would not move; the children tugged and pulled and coaxed +and cried, but still it would not move. At last they fetched a ladder, +and had nearly reached it when suddenly the kite started and flew +away--right away over the field and over the heath, and over the far +far woods, and it never came back again--never--never. + +Dear, that is all. But I think sometimes that perhaps beyond the dark +pines and the roaring sea the kite is flying still, on and on, farther +and farther away, for ever and for ever. + + + + +THE TINKER'S MARRIAGE. + + + Two beaux and a belle, a goat and a carriage, + They all set off to the tinker's marriage. + Two three-cornered hats, and one with a feather, + They looked very fine in the sweet summer weather. + But the carriage turned over, the poor goat shied, + The little belle laughed, the silly beaux cried, + And the tinker fumed, "Oh, why do they tarry? + And why don't they come to see me marry? + I shall throw my bride right into the sea, + If they are not here by half-past three." + But the belle was laughing, "Oh, what shall we do!" + And the beaux were crying, "Bee-bee-bee-boo." + + + + +THE CHILDREN AND THE GARLAND. + + +"To-morrow is May-day," the children said; "the birds must call us very +early, and we will go to the woods and make a garland." And in the +morning, long before the sun had looked over the tops of the houses +into the village street, they were far away in the woods. + +"I will give them some roses as they come back," the gardener said. +"They shall put them among the spring flowers, as a swallow among the +thrushes, to show that summer is on its way." + +When the children had made their garland and a posy for each one of +them, they went singing all down the village street, over the grey +stone bridge, beyond the hayricks, and past the houses on the +hill-side. + +In one of the houses there was a pale little child with a sad, thin +face. "Mother," he said, "here are some children with a garland. Will +it be summer when they have gone by?" He called after them as they went +on, "Come back, oh, come back again!" + +"Yes, we will come back," they answered, but they went on their way +singing. All through the day he waited for them, but they did not come; +and at last, when it was evening, the mother took him up into her arms +to carry him to his bed. Suddenly he heard the children singing in the +distance. "Oh, mother," he exclaimed, "they are coming;" and he watched +till they came up the hill again and stood before him. "But where is +your garland?" he asked. + +"We gave it to lame Mary, the postman's wife, for she is always longing +to see the fields," they answered; "but these roses are for you, dear +little boy; they are all for you," and putting them into his hands they +went back to the village. + +"You are very tired," the child said to the roses; "all your leaves are +drooping. Poor roses, perhaps you are lonely away from the garden; but +you shall sleep near me, and there is a star rising up in the sky; it +will watch us all through the night." Then the child nestled down in +his white bed--he and his little warm heart, in which there was love +for all things. While he slept the roses looked at his pale little face +and sighed, and presently they stole softly on to his cheeks and rested +there. The children saw them still there when the summer was over; when +the garland was quite dead, and lame Mary longed for the fields no +more. + + + + +ROUND THE TEA-TABLE. + + + A nice little party we're seated at tea, + The dollies all seem very glad, + Save the poor little thing who is leaning on me; + I fear that she feels rather bad; + Poor limp little thing! she wants a back-bone, + She's only just made up of rag. + There's little Miss Prim sitting up all alone, + And the Japanese looks like a wag. + + Now what shall we talk of, my own dollies fair? + And what shall we give you for tea? + That queer little thing with the short frizzy hair, + Why does he keep looking at me? + My sister and I we will sing you a song + Before we get up from the table; + It shall not be sad, and it shall not be long-- + We'll sing it as well as we're able. + + + SONG. + + The darkness is stealing all over the place, + The flowers are weeping for sorrow, + The daisy is hiding its little round face, + The sun has gone seeking to-morrow. + + So while you are seated all round the tea-table, + Please join in the chorus as well as you're able; + O! sing! sing away for your life. + + CHORUS. + + It's time to cut off the dicky birds' noses, + Time to cut off the dicky birds' noses, + It's time to cut off the dicky birds' noses, + So bring me the carving-knife. + + The darkness is hiding the birds on the trees, + The thrushes are weary of singing, + A strange little rumour is borne on the breeze + Of Summer the swallows are bringing. + + So while you are seated all round the tea-table, + Please join in the chorus as well as you're able; + O! sing! sing away for your life. + + CHORUS. + + It's time to cut off the dicky birds' noses, + Time to cut off the dicky birds' noses, + It's time to cut off the dicky birds' noses, + So bring me the carving-knife. + + The Summer is stealing all over the place, + The wind is all scented with roses, + The dear little birds are all flying a race, + On purpose to give us their noses. + + So while you are seated all round the tea-table, + Please join in the chorus as well as you're able; + O! sing! sing away for your life. + + + CHORUS. + + It's time to cut off the dicky birds' noses + Time to cut off the dicky birds' noses, + It's time to cut off the dicky birds' noses, + So bring me the carving-knife. + + + + +TOMMY. + + +Tommy was sitting on the bench near the end of the lane. By his side +was a basin tied up in a cotton handkerchief; in the buttonhole of his +coat there was a sprig of sweet-william. The girls from the big house +came and stood still in front of him, staring at him rudely, but he did +not speak. + +"Tommy, are you tired?" they asked. + +"Yes," Tommy answered, crossly, "I'm very tired, and father's working +in the fields, and I have got to take him his dinner before I go to the +fair." + +"Why don't the servants take it?" + +"Servants!" said Tommy scornfully; "we've no servants. We are not rich +people!" + +"Wouldn't you like to be rich?" the eldest sister asked, while the two +little ones walked slowly round Tommy, looking at the feather in his +hat; he had put it there so that he might look smart when he went on to +the village. + +"No, it's too expensive," said Tommy, shaking his head; "rich people +have to buy such a lot of things, and to wear fine clothes, and they +can't have dinner in the fields." + +"My father has his dinner in a room," said the girl. + +"That's because he's rich," answered Tommy, "and people would talk if +he didn't; rich people can't do as they like, as poor can." + +"And my father lives in a big house," the girl went on, for she was +vulgar, and liked to boast. + +"Yes, and it takes up a lot of room; my father's got the whole world to +live in if he likes; that's better than a house." + +"But my father doesn't work," said the girl, scornfully. + +"Mine does," said Tommy, proudly. "Rich people can't work," he went on, +"so they are obliged to get the poor folk to do it. Why, we have made +everything in the world. Oh! it's a fine thing to be poor." + +"But suppose all the rich folk died, what would the poor folk do?" + +"But suppose all the poor folk died," cried Tommy, "what would the rich +folk do? They can sit in carriages, but can't build them, and eat +dinners, but can't cook them." And he got up and went his way. "Poor +folk ought to be very kind to rich folk, for it's hard to be the like +of them," he said to himself as he went along. + + + + +THE SWALLOWS. + + +There were some children in the north looking at the swallows flying +south. "Why are they going away?" the little one asked. + +"The summer is over," the elder sister answered, "and if they stayed +here they would be starved and die of cold, and so, when the summer +goes, they journey south." + +"Our mother and sisters are in the south," the little one said, as they +looked after the birds. "Dear little swallows, tell mother that we are +watching for her!" But they were already flying over the sea. The +chilly winds tried to follow, but the swallows flew so swiftly they +were not overtaken; they went on, with the summer always before them. +They were tired many a time; once they stayed to rest upon the French +coast, and once, in the Bay of Biscay, they clung to the rigging of a +ship all through the night, but in the morning they went on again. + +Far away in the south, two English children were looking from the +turret window of an old castle. + +"Here are the swallows," they said; "perhaps they have come from +England. Dear swallows, have you brought us a message?" they asked. + +"It was very cold, we had no time for messages; and we must not lose +the track of summer," the swallows twittered, and they flew on till +they reached the African shore. + +"Poor little swallows," said the English children, as they watched the +ship come into port that was to take them back to their own land; "they +have to chase the summer and the sun, but we do not mind whether it is +summer or winter, for if we only keep our hearts warm, the rest does +not matter." + +"It is very good of the swallows to come to us," the elder sister said, +in the next spring, when she heard their first soft twitter beneath the +eaves, "for the summer is in many places, and we are so far from the +south." + +"Yes, it is very good of them to come," the children answered; "dear +little swallows, perhaps they love us!" + + + + +A FIRST LOVE-MAKING. + + + A land there is beyond the sea + That I have never seen, + But Johnny says he'll take me there, + And I shall be a queen. + He'll build for me a palace there, + Its roof will be of thatch, + And it will have a little porch + And everything to match. + + And he'll give me a garden-green, + And he'll give me a crown + Of flowers that love the wood and field + And never grow in town. + And we shall be so happy there, + And never, never part, + And I shall be the grandest queen-- + The queen of Johnny's heart. + + Then, Johnny, man your little boat + To sail across the sea; + There's only room for king and queen-- + For Johnny and for me. + And, Johnny dear, I'm not afraid + Of any wind or tide, + For I am always safe, my dear, + If you are by my side. + + + + +SMUT. + + +Now, this story is quite true. Once upon a time there was a cat called +Mr. Puff; he lived in a grand house, quite close to the Turkish +Embassy. A lord and a lady and several servants lived with Mr. Puff; he +was very kind to them, letting them do in all things as they liked, and +never sending them away or keeping the house to himself. One day Mr. +Puff, being out in the rain, found a poor little kitten, covered with +mud, and crying bitterly: so Mr. Puff took the kitten between his +teeth, carried it home, and set it down on the drawing-room hearth-rug. +The lord and the lady had the kitten washed, and gave it food, and +called it Smut. Then Smut went and sat him down on the lord's +writing-table. + +When Smut grew to be a cat, but before he was yet a large one, the lord +and the lady thought awhile, and spoke, "We have a dear friend," they +said, "and he is catless; therefore, if Mr. Puff will agree, we will +take Smut to him as a present." And Mr. Puff agreed. So Smut was put +into a birdcage, for there was nothing else to serve him for a +travelling carriage, and taken to the dear friend's house. The dear +friend had a little girl with golden hair, and when she saw Smut, she +cried out for joy, and said, "Never before did I see a dicky-bird with +a furry coat, a long tail, and little white teeth." But Smut shook his +head, as if to say, "I am not a dicky-bird, sweet maid, but only a +four-legged cat;" then they opened the birdcage door, and he walked +out, waving his tail. + +Now, when Smut grew up, his gravity and dignity made all who knew his +history wonder, and few could believe that he had once been a dirty +kitten, covered with mud, glad to accept the charity of Mr. Puff. When +a year had gone, or perhaps even a longer time, there was a great war +in Turkey, and terrible battles were fought. Then Smut looked very +anxious, and went quite bald, and his coat fell off in little patches; +but none could tell why. At last he died, and the little girl wept +sorely, and all who had known him grieved and lamented. + +And when Smut had been sleeping only a little while beneath the lilac +tree, accident revealed that, instead of a lowly foundling, he had been +of high degree, for the little vagrant Mr. Puff had found was no less a +person than the Turkish Ambassador's coachman's wife's cat's kitten. + + + + +SEE-SAW. + + + Get into the boat and away to the west, + See-saw! see-saw! + For they've cut down the tree with the poor linnet's nest, + See-saw! see-saw! + The bulrushes nod and the water-lilies sigh, + See-saw! see-saw! + And all of us know the sad reason why, + See-saw! see-saw! + + For, oh! the tree--the tree's cut down, + And every one of its leaves are brown; + And in the field the children play, + But the little linnet has flown away: + Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! + + + + +THE BAD GIRL. + + +She was always called the bad girl, for she had once, when she was very +little, put out her tongue at the postman. She lived alone with her +grandmother and her three brothers in the cottage beyond the field, and +the girls in the village took no notice of her. The bad girl did not +mind this, for she was always thinking of the cuckoo clock. The clock +stood in one corner of the cottage, and every hour a door opened at the +top of its face, and a little cuckoo came out and called its name just +the same number of times that the clock ought to have struck, and +called it so loudly and in so much haste that the clock was afraid to +strike at all. The bad girl was always wondering whether it was worse +for the clock to have a cupboard in its forehead, and a bird that was +always hopping in and out, or for the poor cuckoo to spend so much time +in a dark little prison. "If it could only get away to the woods," she +said to herself, "who knows but its voice might grow sweet, and even +life itself might come to it!" She thought of the clock so much that +her grandmother used to say-- + +"Ah, lassie, if you would only think of me sometimes!" But the bad girl +would answer-- + +"You are not in prison, granny dear, and you have not even a bee in +your bonnet, let alone a bird in your head. Why should I think of you?" + +One day, close by the farm, she saw the big girls from the school +gathering flowers. + +"Give me one," she said; "perhaps the cuckoo would like it." But they +all cried, "No, no!" and tried to frighten her away. "They are for the +little one's birthday. To-morrow she will be seven years old," they +said, "and she is to have a crown of flowers and a cake, and all the +afternoon we shall play merry games with her." + +"Is she unhappy, that you are taking so much trouble for her?" asked +the bad girl. + +"Oh, no; she is very happy: but it will be her birthday, and we want to +make her happier." + +"Why?" + +"Because we love her," said one; + +"Because she is so little," said another; + +"Because she is alive," said a third. + +"Are all things that live to be loved and cared for?" the bad girl +asked, but they were too busy to listen, so she went on her way +thinking; and it seemed as if all things round--the birds, and bees, +and the rustling leaves, and the little tender wild flowers, half +hidden in the grass--answered, as she went along-- + +"Yes, they are all to be cared for and made happier, if it be +possible." + +"The cuckoo clock is not alive," she thought. "Oh, no; it is not +alive," the trees answered; "but many things that do not live have +voices, and many others are just sign-posts, pointing the way." + +"The way! The way to what, and where?" + +"We find out for ourselves;--we must all find out for ourselves," the +trees sighed and whispered to each other. + +As the bad girl entered the cottage, the cuckoo called out its name +eleven times, but she did not even look up. She walked straight across +to the chair by the fireside, and kneeling down, kissed her granny's +hands. + + + + +MORNING TIME. + + + I. + + Awake, my pet! + What! slumbering yet, + When the day's so warm and bright? + The flowers that wept + Before they slept + O'er the darkness of yesternight, + Have listened long + To the lark's wild song, + And awoke with the morning light. + + II. + + Again and again + Through the window-pane + The jasmine flowers kept peeping, + And in at the door, + And along the floor, + The sunny rays came creeping, + So I opened wide + The sash, and tried + To tell them you were sleeping. + + III. + + Awake, my dear, + The winter drear + Has fled with all things dreary, + But quickly by + The spring will fly, + And soon the birds will weary.-- + Awake while yet + The dew is wet + And day is young, my deary. + + + + +THE PINK PARASOL. + + +The pink parasol had tender whalebone ribs and a slender stick of +cherry-wood. It lived with the wilful child in the white-house, just +beyond the third milestone. All about the trees were green, and the +flowers grew tall; in the pond behind the willows the ducks swam round +and round and dipped their heads beneath the water. + +Every bird and bee, every leaf and flower, loved the child and the pink +parasol as they wandered in the garden together, listening to the birds +and seeking the shady spots to rest in, or walking up and down the long +trim pathway in the sunshine. Yet the child tired of it all, and before +the summer was over, was always standing by the gate, watching the +straight white road that stretched across the plain. + +"If I might but see the city, with the busy streets and the eager +crowds," he was always saying to himself. + +Then all that lived in the garden knew that the child would not be with +them long. At last the day came when he flung down the pink parasol, +and, without even one last look at the garden, ran out at the gate. + +The flowers died, and the swallows journeyed south; the trees +stretched higher and higher, to see the child come back across the +plain, but he never came. "Ah, dear child!" they sighed many a time, +"why are you staying? and are your eyes as blue as ever; or have the +sad tears dimmed them? and is your hair golden still? and your voice, +is it like the singing of the birds? And your heart--oh! my dear, my +dear, what is in your heart now, that once was so full of summer and +the sun?" + +The pink parasol lay on the pathway, where the child left it, spoilt by +the rain, and splashed by the gravel, faded and forgotten. At last, a +gipsy lad, with dark eyes, a freckled face, and little gold rings in +his ears, came by; he picked up the pink parasol, hid it under his +coat, and carried it to the gipsy tent. There it stayed till one day +the cherry-wood stick was broken into three pieces, and the pink +parasol was put on the fire to make the water boil for the gipsy's +tea. + + + + +THE SISTERS. + + +The little sisters went into the room to play at ball. + +"We must be careful not to wake the white cat," the tall one said, +softly. + +"Or to spoil the roses," the fat one whispered; "but throw high, dear +sister, or we shall never hit the ceiling." + +"You dear children," thought the white cat, "why do you come to play +here at all? Only just round the corner are the shady trees, and the +birds singing on the branches, and the sunshine is flecking the +pathway. Who knows but what, out there, your ball might touch the sky? +Here you will only disturb me, and perhaps spoil the roses; and at best +you can but hit the ceiling!" + + + + +THE WHITE RABBITS. + + + All the white rabbits but two, my dears, + All the white rabbits but two, + Away they all sailed in a cockle-shell boat, + Painted a beautiful blue. + + All the white rabbits so snowy and sleek, + Away they went down to the shore; + Little they thought, so happy and meek, + They'd never come up from it more. + + Oh, the white rabbits they wept and they sobbed, + Till the boat it shook up in the sails; + Oh, the white rabbits they sobbed and they shook + From their poor loppy ears to their tails. + + Away they all sailed to a desolate land + Where never a lettuce-leaf grew, + All the white rabbits but two, my dears, + All the white rabbits but two. + + + + +THE WOODEN HORSE. + + +"Come and have a ride," the big brother said. + +"I am afraid," the little one answered; "the horse's mouth is wide +open." + +"But it's only wooden. That is the best of a horse that isn't real. If +his mouth is ever so wide open, he cannot shut it. So come," and the +big brother lifted the little one up, and dragged him about. + +"Oh, do stop!" the little one cried out in terror; "does the horse make +that noise along the floor?" + +"Yes." + +"And is it a real noise?" + +"Of course it is," the big brother answered. + +"But I thought only real things could make real things," the little one +said; "where does the imitation horse end and the real sound begin?" + +At this the big brother stood still for a few minutes. + +"I was thinking about real and imitation things," he said presently. +"It's very difficult to tell which is which sometimes. You see they get +so close together that the one often grows into the other, and some +imitated things become real and some real ones become imitation as they +go on. But I should say that you are a real coward for not having a +ride." + +"No, I am not," the little one laughed; and, getting astride the wooden +horse, he sat up bravely. "Oh, Jack, dear," he said to his brother, "we +will always be glad that we are real boys, or we too might have been +made with mouths we were never able to shut!" + + + + +THE DUCK POND. + + +So little Bridget took the baby on her right arm and a jug in her left +hand, and went to the farm to get the milk. On her way she went by the +garden-gate of a large house that stood close to the farm, and she told +the baby a story:-- + +"Last summer," she said, "a little girl, bigger than you, for she was +just able to walk, came to stay in that house--she and her father and +mother. All about the road just here, the ducks and the chickens from +the farm, and an old turkey, used to walk about all the day long, but +the poor little ducks were very unhappy, for they had no pond to swim +about in, only that narrow ditch through which the streamlet is +flowing. When the little girl's father saw this, he took a spade, and +worked and worked very hard, and out of the ditch and the streamlet he +made a little pond for the ducks, and they swam about and were very +happy all through the summer days. Every morning I used to stand and +watch, and presently the garden-gate would open, and then the father +would come out, leading the little girl by the hand, and the mother +brought a large plateful of bits of broken bread. The little girl used +to throw the bread to the ducks, and they ran after it and ate it up +quickly, while she laughed out with glee, and the father and the +mother laughed too just as merrily. Baby, the father had blue eyes, and +a voice that you seemed to hear with your heart. + +"The little girl used to feed the chickens too, and the foolish old +turkey that was so fond of her it would run after her until she +screamed and was afraid. The dear father and the little girl came out +every morning, while the black pigs looked through the bars of the +farm-yard gate and grunted at them, as if they were glad, and I think +the ducks knew that the father had made the pond, for they swam round +and round it proudly while he watched them, but when he went away they +seemed tired and sad. + +"The pond is not there now, baby, for a man came by one day and made it +into a ditch again; and the chickens and the ducks from the farm are +kept in another place. + +"The little girl is far away in her own home, which the father made for +her, and the dear father lives in his own home too--in the hearts of +those he loved." + +That was the story that Bridget told the baby. + + + + +THE LITTLE MAID. + + + There is a sweet maiden asleep by the sea, + Her lips are as red as a cherry; + The roses are resting upon her brown cheeks-- + Her cheeks that are brown as a berry. + + She's tired of building up castles of sand, + Her hands they are gritty and grubby; + Her shoes, they are wet, and her legs, they are bare, + Her legs that are sturdy and chubby. + + I'll wrap a shawl round you, my dear little maid, + To keep the wind off you completely, + And soft I will sing you a lullaby song, + And soon you will slumber most sweetly. + + + + +THE DONKEY ON WHEELS. + + +There was once a poor little donkey on wheels. It had never wagged its +tail, or tossed its head, or said, "Hee-haw!" or tasted a tender +thistle. It always went about, anywhere that anyone pulled it, on four +wooden wheels, carrying a foolish knight, who wore a large cocked hat +and a long cloak, because he had no legs. Now, a man who has no legs, +and rides a donkey on wheels, has little cause for pride; but the +knight was haughty, and seldom remembered his circumstances. So the +donkey suffered sorely, and in many ways. + +One day the donkey and the knight were on the table in front of the +child to whom they both belonged. She was cutting out a little doll's +frock with a large pair of scissors. + +"Mistress," said the knight, "this donkey tries my temper. Will you +give me some spurs?" + +"Oh, no, sir knight," the child answered. "You would hurt the poor +donkey; besides, you have no heels to put them on." + +"Cruel knight!" exclaimed the donkey. "Make him get off, dear mistress; +I will carry him no longer." + +"Let him stay," said the child, gently; "he has no legs, and cannot +walk." + +"Then why did he want spurs?" + +"Just the way of the world, dear donkey; just the way of the world." + +"Ah!" sighed the donkey, "some ways are very trying, especially the +world's;" and then it said no more, but thought of the fields it would +never see, and the thistles it would never taste. + + + + +COCK-A-DOODLE. + + + I know a lovely dicky-bird, + A cock-a-doodle-doo;-- + My father and my mother + And my sister know it too. + + It struts about so gaily, + And it is brave and strong; + And when it crows, it is a crow, + Both very loud and long. + + Oh, "Cock-a-doodle-doo," it crows, + And cock-a-doodle won't + Leave off its cock-a-doodling, + When mother dear cries "Don't!" + + + + +THE BOY AND LITTLE GREAT LADY. + + +She was always called the "little great lady," for she lived in a grand +house, and was very rich. He was a strange boy; the little great lady +never knew whence he came, or whither he went. She only saw him when +the snow lay deep upon the ground. Then in the early morning he swept a +pathway to the stable in which she had once kept a white rabbit. When +it was quite finished, she came down the steps in her white dress and +little thin shoes, with bows on them, and walked slowly along the +pathway. It was always swept so dry she might have worn paper shoes +without getting them wet. At the far end he always stood waiting till +she came, and smiled and said, "Thank you, little boy," and passed on. +Then he was no more seen till the next snowy morning, when again he +swept the pathway; and again the little great lady came down the steps +in her dainty shoes, and went on her way to the stable. + +But at last, one morning when the snow lay white and thick, and she +came down the steps as usual, there was no pathway. The little boy +stood leaning on a spade, his feet buried deep in the snow. + +"Where is your broom? and where is the pathway to the rabbit house?" +she asked. + +"The rabbit is dead, and the broom is worn out," he answered; "and I am +tired of making pathways that lead to empty houses." + +"But why have you done it so long?" she asked. + +"You have bows on your shoes," he said; "and they are so thin you could +not walk over the snow in them--why, you would catch your death of +cold," he added, scornfully. + +"What would you do if I wore boots?" + +"I should go and learn how to build ships, or paint pictures, or write +books. But I should not think of you so much," he said. + +The little great lady answered eagerly, "Go and learn how to do all +those things; I will wait till you come back and tell me what you have +done," and she turned and went into the house. + +"Good-bye," the boy said, as he stood watching for a moment the closed +door; "dear little great lady, good-bye." And he went along the unmade +pathway beyond the empty rabbit house. + + + + +GOOD-DAY, GENTLE FOLK. + + + Oh, yes, sir and miss, I have been to the town; + It really was pleasant and gay; + But now I must hurry, the sun's going down, + And so I will wish you good-day. + And so I will wish you good-day, gentle folk, + And so I will wish you good-day. + + I know a white rabbit just over the hill, + He's eating a lettuce for tea; + And a fat speckled duck, with a very large bill, + Is quacking, "Oh, where can she be?" + And two little mice are there, standing quite still, + They're all of them waiting for me. + + For we all love the stars and the little pale moon, + Beneath them we frolic and play; + My friends have been waiting the whole afternoon, + And so I will wish you good-day. + And so I will wish you good-day, gentle folk, + And so I will wish you good-day. + + * * * * * + + +NEW BOOKS FOR CHILDREN. + + +Foolscap 8vo, Paper Boards, price One Shilling each. + +VERY SHORT STORIES +AND +VERSES FOR CHILDREN. + +BY MRS. W. K. CLIFFORD, +_Author of "Anyhow Stories," etc._ + +WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY EDITH CAMPBELL. + + +A NEW NATURAL HISTORY +OF BIRDS, BEASTS, AND FISHES. + +BY JOHN K. LEYS, M.A. + + +LIFE STORIES OF +FAMOUS CHILDREN. + +ADAPTED FROM THE FRENCH. + +_By the Author of "Spenser for Children."_ + + +LONDON: WALTER SCOTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. + + + + +The Canterbury Poets. + + +THE +CHILDREN OF THE POETS: +AN ANTHOLOGY, + +_From English and American Writers of +Three Centuries._ + +EDITED, WITH INTRODUCTION, +BY ERIC ROBERTSON, M.A. + +This Volume contains contributions by Lord Tennyson, William Bell +Scott, Robert Browning, James Russell Lowell, George Macdonald, +Algernon Charles Swinburne, Theodore Watts, Austin Dobson, Hon. Roden +Noel, Edmund Gosse, Robert Louis Stevenson, etc., etc. + + +LONDON: +WALTER SCOTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's Notes + +Page 58: Corrected typo has'nt to hasn't: + (He has'nt any hair,--). + +Page 61: Added a (probably missing) period: + (They looked very fine in the sweet summer weather.) + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Very Short Stories and Verses For +Children, by Mrs. W. K. 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