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diff --git a/30494-0.txt b/30494-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..801ed58 --- /dev/null +++ b/30494-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3536 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30494 *** + +[Illustration] + + + + + +THE ADVENTURES OF + +A BROWNIE + +AS TOLD TO MY CHILD + +BY MISS MULOCK + +[Illustration] + +ILLUSTRATED + + NEW YORK + McLOUGHLIN BROTHERS + + + + +COPYRIGHTED--1908--BY McLOUGHLIN BROS. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + ADVENTURE THE FIRST + Brownie and the Cook 5 + + ADVENTURE THE SECOND + Brownie and the Cherry-tree 17 + + ADVENTURE THE THIRD + Brownie in the Farmyard 26 + + ADVENTURE THE FOURTH + Brownie's Ride 41 + + ADVENTURE THE FIFTH + Brownie on the Ice 58 + + ADVENTURE THE SIXTH AND LAST + Brownie and the Clothes 73 + + POEMS + The Blackbird and the Rooks 88 + The Shaking of the Pear-tree 91 + The Wonderful Apple-tree 95 + The Jealous Boy 98 + The Story of the Birkenhead 99 + Birds in the Snow 105 + The Little Comforter 107 + Don't Be Afraid 108 + Girl and Boy 109 + Agnes at Prayer 110 + Going to Work 111 + Three Companions 112 + The Motherless Child 113 + The Wren's Nest 115 + A Child's Smile 116 + Over the Hills and Far Away 118 + The Two Raindrops 119 + The Year's End 120 + Running After the Rainbow 121 + Dick and I 123 + Grandpapa 124 + Monsieur et Mademoiselle 125 + Young Dandelion 127 + A September Robin 128 + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE + + + + +ADVENTURE THE FIRST + +BROWNIE AND THE COOK + + +THERE was once a little Brownie, who lived--where do you think he lived? +in a coal-cellar. + +Now a coal-cellar may seem a most curious place to choose to live in; +but then a Brownie is a curious creature--a fairy, and yet not one of +that sort of fairies who fly about on gossamer wings, and dance in the +moonlight, and so on. He never dances; and as to wings, what use would +they be to him in a coal-cellar? He is a sober, stay-at-home, household +elf--nothing much to look at, even if you did see him, which you are not +likely to do--only a little old man, about a foot high, all dressed in +brown, with a brown face and hands, and a brown peaked cap, just the +color of a brown mouse. And, like a mouse, he hides in corners--especially +kitchen corners, and only comes out after dark when nobody is about, and +so sometimes people call him Mr. Nobody. + +I said you were not likely to see him. I never did, certainly, and never +knew any body that did; but still, if you were to go into Devonshire, +you would hear many funny stories about Brownies in general, and so I +may as well tell you the adventures of this particular Brownie, who +belonged to a family there; which family he had followed from house to +house, most faithfully, for years and years. + +A good many people had heard him--or supposed they had--when there were +extraordinary noises about the house; noises which must have come from a +mouse or a rat--or a Brownie. But nobody had ever seen him except the +children--the three little boys and three little girls--who declared he +often came to play with them when they were alone, and was the nicest +companion in the world, though he was such an old man--hundreds of years +old! He was full of fun and mischief, and up to all sorts of tricks, but +he never did any body any harm unless they deserved it. + +Brownie was supposed to live under one particular coal, in the darkest +corner of the cellar, which was never allowed to be disturbed. Why he +had chosen it nobody knew, and how he lived there, nobody knew either, +nor what he lived upon. Except that, ever since the family could +remember, there had always been a bowl of milk put behind the +coal-cellar door for the Brownie's supper. Perhaps he drank it--perhaps +he didn't: anyhow, the bowl was always found empty next morning. The old +Cook, who had lived all her life in the family, had never forgotten to +give Brownie his supper; but at last she died, and a young cook came in +her stead, who was very apt to forget every thing. She was also both +careless and lazy, and disliked taking the trouble to put a bowl of milk +in the same place every night for Mr. Nobody. "She didn't believe in +Brownies," she said; "she had never seen one, and seeing's believing." +So she laughed at the other servants, who looked very grave, and put +the bowl of milk in its place as often as they could, without saying +much about it. + +But once, when Brownie woke up, at his usual hour for rising--ten +o'clock at night, and looked round in search of his supper--which was, +in fact, his breakfast--he found nothing there. At first he could not +imagine such neglect, and went smelling and smelling about for his bowl +of milk--it was not always placed in the same corner now--but in vain. + +"This will never do," said he; and being extremely hungry, began running +about the coal-cellar to see what he could find. His eyes were as useful +in the dark as in the light--like a pussy-cat's; but there was nothing +to be seen--not even a potato paring, or a dry crust, or a well-gnawed +bone, such as Tiny the terrier sometimes brought into the coal-cellar +and left on the floor--nothing, in short, but heaps of coals and +coal-dust; and even a Brownie cannot eat that, you know. + +"Can't stand this; quite impossible!" said the Brownie, tightening his +belt to make his poor little inside feel less empty. He had been asleep +so long--about a week, I believe, as was his habit when there was +nothing to do--that he seemed ready to eat his own head, or his boots, +or any thing. 'What's to be done? Since nobody brings my supper, I must +go and fetch it.' + +He spoke quickly, for he always thought quickly, and made up his mind in +a minute. To be sure it was a very little mind, like his little body; +but he did the best he could with it, and was not a bad sort of old +fellow, after all. In the house he had never done any harm, and often +some good, for he frightened away all the rats, mice, and black-beetles. +Not the crickets--he liked them, as the old Cook had done: she said +they were such cheerful creatures, and always brought luck to the house. +But the young Cook could not bear them, and used to pour boiling water +down their holes, and set basins of beer for them with little wooden +bridges up to the brim, that they might walk up, tumble in, and be +drowned. + +So there was not even a cricket singing in the silent house when Brownie +put his head out of his coal-cellar door, which, to his surprise, he +found open. Old Cook used to lock it every night, but the young Cook had +left that key, and the kitchen and pantry keys too, all dangling in the +lock, so that any thief might have got in, and wandered all over the +house without being found out. + +"Hurrah, here's luck!" cried Brownie, tossing his cap up in the air, and +bounding right through the scullery into the kitchen. It was quite +empty, but there was a good fire burning itself out--just for its own +amusement, and the remains of a capital supper spread on the +table--enough for half a dozen people being left still. + +Would you like to know what there was? Devonshire cream, of course; and +part of a large dish of junket, which is something like curds and whey. +Lots of bread-and-butter and cheese, and half an apple-pudding. Also a +great jug of cider and another of milk, and several half-full glasses, +and no end of dirty plates, knives, and forks. All were scattered about +the table in the most untidy fashion, just as the servants had risen +from their supper, without thinking to put any thing away. + +Brownie screwed up his little old face and turned up his button of a +nose, and gave a long whistle. You might not believe it, seeing he lived +in a coal-cellar; but really he liked tidiness, and always played his +pranks upon disorderly or slovenly folk. + +[Illustration: He wanted his supper, and oh! what a supper he did +eat!--Page 11] + +"Whew!" said he; "here's a chance. What a supper I'll get now!" + +And he jumped on to a chair and thence to the table, but so quietly that +the large black cat with four white paws, called Muff, because she was +so fat and soft and her fur so long, who sat dozing in front of the +fire, just opened one eye and went to sleep again. She had tried to get +her nose into the milk-jug, but it was too small; and the junket-dish +was too deep for her to reach, except with one paw. She didn't care much +for bread and cheese and apple-pudding, and was very well fed besides; +so, after just wandering round the table, she had jumped down from it +again, and settled herself to sleep on the hearth. + +But Brownie had no notion of going to sleep. He wanted his supper, and +oh! what a supper he did eat! first one thing and then another, and then +trying every thing all over again. And oh! what a lot he drank--first +milk and then cider, and then mixed the two together in a way that would +have disagreed with any body except a Brownie. As it was, he was obliged +to slacken his belt several times, and at last took it off altogether. +But he must have had a most extraordinary capacity for eating and +drinking--since, after he had nearly cleared the table, he was just as +lively as if he had had no supper at all. + +Now his jumping was a little awkward, for there happened to be a clean +white tablecloth: as this was only Monday, it had had no time to get +dirty--untidy as the Cook was. And you know Brownie lived in a +coal-cellar, and his feet were black with running about in coal dust. So +wherever he trod, he left the impression behind, until at last the whole +tablecloth was covered with black marks. + +Not that he minded this; in fact, he took great pains to make the cloth +as dirty as possible; and then laughing loudly, "Ho, ho, ho!" leaped on +to the hearth, and began teasing the cat; squeaking like a mouse, or +chirping like a cricket, or buzzing like a fly; and altogether +disturbing poor Pussy's mind so much, that she went and hid herself in +the farthest corner, and left him the hearth all to himself, where he +lay at ease till daybreak. + +Then, hearing a slight noise overhead, which might be the servants +getting up, he jumped on to the table again--gobbled up the few +remaining crumbs for his breakfast, and scampered off to his +coal-cellar; where he hid himself under his big coal, and fell asleep +for the day. + +Well, the Cook came downstairs rather earlier than usual, for she +remembered she had to clear off the remains of supper; but lo and +behold, there was nothing left to clear. Every bit of food was eaten +up--the cheese looked as if a dozen mice had been nibbling at it, and +nibbled it down to the very rind; the milk and cider were all drunk--and +mice don't care for milk and cider, you know. As for the apple-pudding, +it had vanished altogether; and the dish was licked as clean as if +Boxer, the yard-dog, had been at it in his hungriest mood. + +"And my white table-cloth--oh, my clean white table-cloth! What can have +been done to it?" cried she, in amazement. For it was all over little +black footmarks, just the size of a baby's foot--only babies don't wear +shoes with nails in them, and don't run about and climb on kitchen +tables after all the family have gone to bed. + +Cook was a little frightened; but her fright changed to anger when she +saw the large black cat stretched comfortably on the hearth. Poor Muff +had crept there for a little snooze after Brownie went away. + +"You nasty cat! I see it all now; it's you that have eaten up all the +supper; it's you that have been on my clean table-cloth with your dirty +paws." + +[Illustration: Cook beat poor Pussy till the creature ran mewing away] + +They were white paws, and as clean as possible; but the Cook never +thought of that, any more than she did of the fact that cats don't +usually drink cider or eat apple-pudding. + +"I'll teach you to come stealing food in this way; take that--and +that--and that!" + +Cook got hold of a broom and beat poor Pussy till the creature ran +mewing away. She couldn't speak, you know--unfortunate cat! and tell +people that it was Brownie who had done it all. + +Next night Cook thought she would make all safe and sure; so, instead of +letting the cat sleep by the fire, she shut her up in the chilly +coal-cellar, locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and went off to +bed--leaving the supper as before. + +When Brownie woke up and looked out of his hole, there was, as usual, no +supper for him, and the cellar was close shut. He peered about, to try +and find some cranny under the door to creep out at, but there was none. +And he felt so hungry that he could almost have eaten the cat, who kept +walking to and fro in a melancholy manner--only she was alive, and he +couldn't well eat her alive: besides, he knew she was old, and had an +idea she might be tough; so he merely said, politely, "How do you do, +Mrs. Pussy?" to which she answered nothing--of course. + +Something must be done, and luckily Brownies can do things which nobody +else can do. So he thought he would change himself into a mouse, and +gnaw a hole through the door. But then he suddenly remembered the cat, +who, though he had decided not to eat her, might take this opportunity +of eating him. So he thought it advisable to wait till she was fast +asleep, which did not happen for a good while. At length, quite tired +with walking about, Pussy turned round on her tail six times, curled +down in a corner, and fell fast asleep. + +Immediately Brownie changed himself into the smallest mouse possible; +and, taking care not to make the least noise, gnawed a hole in the door, +and squeezed himself through, immediately turning into his proper shape +again, for fear of accidents. + +The kitchen fire was at its last glimmer; but it showed a better supper +than even last night, for the Cook had had friends with her--a brother +and two cousins--and they had been exceedingly merry. The food they had +left behind was enough for three Brownies at least, but this one managed +to eat it all up. Only once, in trying to cut a great slice of beef, he +let the carving-knife and fork fall with such a clatter, that Tiny the +terrier, who was tied up at the foot of the stairs, began to bark +furiously. However, he brought her her puppy, which had been left in a +basket in a corner of the kitchen, and so succeeded in quieting her. + +After that he enjoyed himself amazingly, and made more marks than ever +on the white table-cloth; for he began jumping about like a pea on a +trencher, in order to make his particularly large supper agree with him. + +Then, in the absence of the cat, he teased the puppy for an hour or two, +till hearing the clock strike five, he thought it as well to turn into a +mouse again, and creep back cautiously into his cellar. He was only just +in time, for Muff opened one eye, and was just going to pounce upon him, +when he changed himself back into a Brownie. She was so startled that +she bounded away, her tail growing into twice its natural size, and her +eyes gleaming like round green globes. But Brownie only said, "Ha, ha, +ho!" and walked deliberately into his hole. + +When Cook came downstairs and saw that the same thing had happened +again--that the supper was all eaten, and the table-cloth blacker than +ever with the extraordinary footmarks, she was greatly puzzled. Who +could have done it all? Not the cat, who came mewing out of the +coal-cellar the minute she unlocked the door. Possibly a rat--but then +would a rat have come within reach of Tiny? + +"It must have been Tiny herself, or her puppy," which just came rolling +out of its basket over Cook's feet. "You little wretch! You and your +mother are the greatest nuisance imaginable. I'll punish you!" + +And, quite forgetting that Tiny had been safely tied up all night, and +that her poor little puppy was so fat and helpless it could scarcely +stand on its legs, to say nothing of jumping on chairs and tables, she +gave them both such a thrashing that they ran howling together out of +the kitchen door, where the kind little kitchen-maid took them up in her +arms. + +"You ought to have beaten the Brownie, if you could catch him," said +she, in a whisper. "He will do it again and again, you'll see, for he +can't bear an untidy kitchen. You'd better do as poor old Cook did, and +clear the supper things away, and put the odds and ends safe in the +larder; also," she added, mysteriously, "if I were you, I'd put a bowl +of milk behind the coal-cellar door." + +"Nonsense!" answered the young Cook, and flounced away. But afterward +she thought better of it, and did as she was advised, grumbling all the +time, but doing it. + +Next morning the milk was gone! Perhaps Brownie had drunk it up, anyhow +nobody could say that he hadn't. As for the supper, Cook having safely +laid it on the shelves of the larder, nobody touched it. And the +table-cloth, which was wrapped up tidily and put in the dresser drawer, +came out as clean as ever, with not a single black footmark upon it. No +mischief being done, the cat and the dog both escaped beating, and +Brownie played no more tricks with any body--till the next time. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +ADVENTURE THE SECOND + +BROWNIE AND THE CHERRY-TREE + + +THE "next time" was quick in coming, which was not wonderful, +considering there was a Brownie in the house. Otherwise the house was +like most other houses, and the family like most other families. The +children also: they were sometimes good, sometimes naughty, like other +children; but, on the whole, they deserved to have the pleasure of a +Brownie to play with them, as they declared he did--many and many a +time. + +A favorite play-place was the orchard, where grew the biggest +cherry-tree you ever saw. They called it their "castle," because it rose +up ten feet from the ground in one thick stem, and then branched out +into a circle of boughs, with a flat place in the middle, where two or +three children could sit at once. There they often did sit, turn by +turn, or one at a time--sometimes with a book, reading; and the biggest +boy made a sort of rope-ladder by which they could climb up and +down--which they did all winter, and enjoyed their "castle" very much. + +But one day in spring they found their ladder cut away! The Gardener +had done it, saying it injured the tree, which was just coming into +blossom. Now this Gardener was a rather gruff man, with a growling +voice. He did not mean to be unkind, but he disliked children; he said +they bothered him. But when they complained to their mother about the +ladder, she agreed with Gardener that the tree must not be injured, as +it bore the biggest cherries in all the neighborhood--so big that the +old saying of "taking two bites at a cherry," came really true. + +"Wait till the cherries are ripe," said she; and so the little people +waited, and watched it through its leafing and blossoming--such sheets +of blossom, white as snow!--till the fruit began to show, and grew large +and red on every bough. + +At last one morning the mother said, "Children, should you like to help +gather the cherries to-day?" + +"Hurrah!" they cried, "and not a day too soon; for we saw a flock of +starlings in the next field--and if we don't clear the tree, they will." + +"Very well; clear it, then. Only mind and fill my basket quite full, for +preserving. What is over you may eat, if you like." + +"Thank you, thank you!" and the children were eager to be off; but the +mother stopped them till she could get the Gardener and his ladder. + +"For it is he must climb the tree, not you; and you must do exactly as +he tells you; and he will stop with you all the time and see that you +don't come to harm." + +This was no slight cloud on the children's happiness, and they begged +hard to go alone. + +"Please, might we? We will be so good!" + +[Illustration: When the Gardener was steadying his ladder against the +trunk of the cherry-tree] + +The mother shook her head. All the goodness in the world would not help +them if they tumbled off the tree, or ate themselves sick with cherries. +"You would not be safe, and I should be so unhappy!" + +To make mother "unhappy" was the worst rebuke possible to these +children; so they choked down their disappointment, and followed the +Gardener as he walked on ahead, carrying his ladder on his shoulder. He +looked very cross, and as if he did not like the children's company at +all. + +They were pretty good, on the whole, though they chattered a good deal; +but Gardener said not a word to them all the way to the orchard. When +they reached it, he just told them to "keep out of his way and not +worrit him," which they politely promised, saying among themselves that +they should not enjoy their cherry-gathering at all. But children who +make the best of things, and try to be as good as they can, sometimes +have fun unawares. + +When the Gardener was steadying his ladder against the trunk of the +cherry-tree, there was suddenly heard the barking of a dog, and a very +fierce dog, too. First it seemed close beside them, then in the +flower-garden, then in the fowl-yard. + +Gardener dropped the ladder out of his hands. "It's that Boxer! He has +got loose again! He will be running after my chickens, and dragging his +broken chain all over my borders. And he is so fierce, and so delighted +to get free. He'll bite any body who ties him up, except me." + +"Hadn't you better you go and see after him?" + +Gardener thought it was the eldest boy who spoke, and turned round +angrily; but the little fellow had never opened his lips. + +Here there was heard a still louder bark, and from a quite different +part of the garden. + +"There he is--I'm sure of it! jumping over my bedding-out plants, and +breaking my cucumber frames. Abominable beast!--just let me catch him!" +Off Gardener darted in a violent passion, throwing the ladder down upon +the grass, and forgetting all about the cherries and the children. + +The instant he was gone, a shrill laugh, loud and merry, was heard close +by, and a little brown old man's face peeped from behind the +cherry-tree. + +"How d'ye do?--Boxer was me. Didn't I bark well? Now I'm come to play +with you." + +The children clapped their hands; for they knew they were going to have +some fun if Brownie was there--he was the best little playfellow in the +world. And then they had him all to themselves. Nobody ever saw him +except the children. + +"Come on!" cried he, in his shrill voice, half like an old man's, half +like a baby's. "Who'll begin to gather the cherries?" + +[Illustration: A little brown old man's face peeped from behind the +cherry-tree.--Page 20] + +They all looked blank; for the tree was so high to where the branches +sprang, and besides, their mother had said they were not to climb. And +the ladder lay flat upon the grass--far too heavy for little hands to +move. + +"What! you big boys don't expect a poor little fellow like me to lift +the ladder all by myself? Try! I'll help you." + +Whether he helped or not, no sooner had they taken hold of the ladder +than it rose up, almost of its own accord, and fixed itself quite safely +against the tree. + +"But we must not climb--mother told us not," said the boys, ruefully. +"Mother said we were to stand at the bottom and pick up the cherries." + +"Very well. Obey your mother. I'll just run up the tree myself." + +Before the words were out of his mouth Brownie darted up the ladder like +a monkey, and disappeared among the fruit-laden branches. + +The children looked dismayed for a minute, till they saw a merry brown +face peeping out from the green leaves at the very top of the tree. + +"Biggest fruit always grows highest," cried the Brownie. "Stand in a +row, all you children. Little boys, hold out your caps: little girls, +make a bag of your pinafores. Open your mouths and shut your eyes, and +see what the queen will send you." + +They laughed and did as they were told; whereupon they were drowned in a +shower of cherries--cherries falling like hailstones, hitting them on +their heads, their cheeks, their noses--filling their caps and +pinafores, and then rolling and tumbling on to the grass, till it was +strewn thick as leaves in autumn with the rosy fruit. + +What a glorious scramble they had--these three little boys and three +little girls! How they laughed and jumped and knocked their heads +together in picking up the cherries, yet never quarreled--for there were +such heaps, it would have been ridiculous to squabble over them; and +besides, whenever they began to quarrel, Brownie always ran away. Now he +was the merriest of the lot; ran up and down the tree like a cat, helped +to pick up the cherries, and was first-rate at filling the large +market-basket. + +"We were to eat as many as we liked, only we must first fill the +basket," conscientiously said the eldest girl; upon which they all set +to at once, and filled it to the brim. + +"Now we'll have a dinner-party," cried the Brownie; and squatted down +like a Turk, crossed his queer little legs, and sticking his elbows upon +his knees, in a way that nobody but a Brownie could manage. "Sit in a +ring! sit in a ring! and we'll see who can eat fastest." + +The children obeyed. How many cherries they devoured, and how fast they +did it, passes my capacity of telling. I only hope they were not ill +next day, and that all the cherry-stones they swallowed by mistake did +not disagree with them. But perhaps nothing does disagree with one when +one dines with a Brownie. They ate so much, laughing in equal +proportion, that they had quite forgotten the Gardener--when, all of a +sudden, they heard him clicking angrily the orchard gate, and talking to +himself as he walked through. + +"That nasty dog! It wasn't Boxer, after all. A nice joke! to find him +quietly asleep in his kennel after having hunted him, as I thought, from +one end of the garden to the other! Now for the cherries and the +children--bless us, where are the children? And the cherries? Why, the +tree is as bare as a blackthorn in February! The starlings have been at +it, after all. Oh dear! oh dear!" + +"Oh dear! oh dear!" echoed a voice from behind the tree, followed by +shouts of mocking laughter. Not from the children--they sat as demure as +possible, all in a ring, with their hands before them, and in the centre +the huge basket of cherries, piled as full as it could possibly hold. +But the Brownie had disappeared. + +"You naughty brats, I'll have you punished!" cried the Gardener, furious +at the laughter, for he never laughed himself. But as there was nothing +wrong; the cherries being gathered--a very large crop--and the ladder +found safe in its place--it was difficult to say what had been the harm +done and who had done it. + +So he went growling back to the house, carrying the cherries to the +mistress, who coaxed him into good temper again, as she sometimes did; +bidding also the children to behave well to him, since he was an old +man, and not really bad--only cross. As for the little folks, she had +not the slightest intention of punishing them; and, as for Brownie, it +was impossible to catch him. So nobody was punished at all. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +ADVENTURE THE THIRD + +BROWNIE IN THE FARMYARD + + +WHICH was a place where he did not often go, for he preferred being warm +and snug in the house. But when he felt himself ill-used, he would +wander anywhere, in order to play tricks upon those whom he thought had +done him harm; for, being only a Brownie, and not a man, he did not +understand that the best way to revenge yourself upon your enemies is +either to let them alone or to pay them back good for evil--it +disappoints them so much, and makes them so exceedingly ashamed of +themselves. + +One day Brownie overheard the Gardener advising the Cook to put sour +milk into his bowl at night, instead of sweet. + +"He'd never find out the difference, no more than the pigs do. Indeed, +it's my belief that a pig, or dog, or something, empties the bowl, and +not a Brownie, at all. It's just clean waste--that's what I say." + +"Then you'd better hold your tongue, and mind your own business," +returned the Cook, who was of a sharp temper, and would not stand being +meddled with. She began to abuse the Gardener soundly; but his wife, who +was standing by, took his part, as she always did when any third party +scolded him. So they all squabbled together, till Brownie, hid under his +coal, put his little hands over his little ears. + +"Dear me, what a noise these mortals do make when they quarrel! They +quite deafen me. I must teach them better manners." + +But when the Cook slammed the door to, and left Gardener and his wife +alone, they too began to dispute between themselves. + +"You make such a fuss over your nasty pigs, and get all the scraps for +them," said the wife. "It's of much more importance that I should have +everything Cook can spare for my chickens. Never were such fine chickens +as my last brood!" + +"I thought they were ducklings." + +"How you catch me up, you rude old man! They are ducklings, and +beauties, too--even though they have never seen water. Where's the pond +you promised to make for me, I wonder?" + +"Rubbish, woman! If my cows do without a pond, your ducklings may. And +why will you be so silly as to rear ducklings at all? Fine fat chickens +are a deal better. You'll find out your mistake some day." + +"And so will you when that old Alderney runs dry. You'll wish you had +taken my advice, and fattened and sold her." + +"Alderney cows won't sell for fattening, and women's advice is never +worth twopence. Yours isn't worth even a half-penny. What are you +laughing at?" + +"I wasn't laughing," said the wife, angrily; and, in truth, it was not +she, but little Brownie, running under the barrow which the Gardener was +wheeling along, and very much amused that people should be so silly as +to squabble about nothing. + +It was still early morning; for, whatever this old couple's faults might +be, laziness was not one of them. The wife rose with the dawn to feed +her poultry and collect her eggs; the husband also got through as much +work by breakfast-time as many an idle man does by noon. But Brownie had +been beforehand with them this day. + +When all the fowls came running to be fed, the big Brahma hen who had +watched the ducklings was seen wandering forlornly about, and clucking +mournfully for her young brood--she could not find them anywhere. Had +she been able to speak, she might have told how a large white Aylesbury +duck had waddled into the farmyard, and waddled out again, coaxing them +after her, no doubt in search of a pond. But missing they were, most +certainly. + +"Cluck, cluck, cluck!" mourned the miserable hen-mother--and, "Oh, my +ducklings, my ducklings!" cried the Gardener's wife--"Who can have +carried off my beautiful ducklings?" + +"Rats, maybe," said the Gardener, cruelly, as he walked away. And as he +went he heard the squeak of a rat below his wheelbarrow. But he could +not catch it, any more than his wife could catch the Aylesbury duck. Of +course not. Both were--the Brownie! + +Just at this moment the six little people came running into the +farmyard. When they had been particularly good, they were sometimes +allowed to go with Gardener a-milking, each carrying his or her own mug +for a drink of milk, warm from the cow. They scampered after him--a +noisy tribe, begging to be taken down to the field, and holding out +their six mugs entreatingly. + +"What! six cupfuls of milk, when I haven't a drop to spare, and Cook is +always wanting more? Ridiculous nonsense! Get along with you; you may +come to the field--I can't hinder that--but you'll get no milk to-day. +Take your mugs back again to the kitchen." + +[Illustration: A noisy tribe, holding out their six mugs entreatingly.] + +The poor little folks made the best of a bad business, and obeyed; then +followed Gardener down to the field, rather dolefully. But it was such a +beautiful morning that they soon recovered their spirits. The grass +shone with dew, like a sheet of diamonds, the clover smelled so sweet, +and two skylarks were singing at one another high up in the sky. Several +rabbits darted past, to their great amusement, especially one very large +rabbit--brown, not gray--which dodged them in and out, and once nearly +threw Gardener down, pail and all, by running across his feet; which set +them all laughing, till they came where Dolly, the cow, lay chewing the +cud under a large oak-tree. + +It was great fun to stir her up, as usual, and lie down, one after the +other, in the place where she had lain all night long, making the grass +flat, and warm, and perfumy with her sweet breath. She let them do it, +and then stood meekly by; for Dolly was the gentlest cow in the world. + +But this morning something strange seemed to possess her. She altogether +refused to be milked--kicked, plunged, tossed over the pail, which was +luckily empty. + +"Bless the cow! what's wrong with her? It's surely you children's fault. +Stand off, the whole lot of you. Soh, Dolly! good Dolly!" + +But Dolly was any thing but good. She stood switching her tail, and +looking as savage as so mild an animal possibly could look. + +"It's all your doing, you naughty children! You have been playing her +some trick, I know," cried the Gardener, in great wrath. + +They assured him they had done nothing, and indeed, they looked as quiet +as mice and as innocent as lambs. At length the biggest boy pointed out +a large wasp which had settled in Dolly's ear. + +"That accounts for everything," said the Gardener. + +But it did not mend everything; for when he tried to drive it away it +kept coming back and back again, and buzzing round his own head and the +cow's with a voice that the children thought was less like a buzz of a +wasp than the sound of a person laughing. At length it frightened Dolly +to such an extent that, with one wild bound she darted right away, and +galloped off to the farther end of the field. + +"I'll get a rope and tie her legs together," cried the Gardener, +fiercely. "She shall repent giving me all this trouble--that she shall!" + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed somebody. The Gardener thought it was the +children, and gave one of them an angry cuff as he walked away. But they +knew it was somebody else, and were not at all surprised when, the +minute his back was turned, Dolly came walking quietly back, led by a +little wee brown man who scarcely reached up to her knees. Yet she let +him guide her, which he did as gently as possible, though the string he +held her by was no thicker than a spider web, floating from one of her +horns. + +"Soh, Dolly! good Dolly!" cried Brownie, mimicking the Gardener's voice. +"Now we'll see what we can do. I want my breakfast badly--don't you, +little folks?" + +Of course they did, for the morning air made them very hungry. + +"Very well--wait a bit, though. Old people should be served first, you +know. Besides, I want to go to bed." + +"Go to bed in the daylight!" The children all laughed, and then looked +quite shy and sorry, lest they might have seemed rude to the little +Brownie. But he--he liked fun; and never took offence when none was +meant. + +He placed himself on the milking-stool, which was so high that his +little legs were dangling half-way down, and milked and milked--Dolly +standing as still as possible--till he had filled the whole pail. Most +astonishing cow! she gave as much as two cows; and such delicious milk +as it was--all frothing and yellow--richer than even Dolly's milk had +ever been before. The children's mouths watered for it, but not a word +said they--even when, instead of giving it to them, Brownie put his own +mouth to the pail, and drank and drank, till it seemed as if he were +never going to stop. But it was decidedly a relief to them when he +popped his head up again, and lo! the pail was as full as ever! + +"Now, little ones, now's your turn. Where are your mugs?" + +All answered mournfully, "We've got none. Gardener made us take them +back again." + +"Never mind--all right. Gather me half a dozen of the biggest buttercups +you can find." + +"What nonsense!" thought the children; but they did it. Brownie laid the +flowers in a row upon the eldest girl's lap--blew upon them one by one, +and each turned into the most beautiful golden cup that ever was seen! + +"Now, then, every one take his own mug, and I'll fill it." + +He milked away--each child got a drink, and then the cups were filled +again. And all the while Dolly stood as quiet as possible--looking +benignly round, as if she would be happy to supply milk to the whole +parish, if the Brownie desired it. + +"Soh, Dolly! Thank you, Dolly!" said he, again, mimicking the Gardener's +voice, half growling, half coaxing. And while he spoke, the real voice +was heard behind the hedge. There was a sound as of a great wasp flying +away, which made Dolly prick up her ears, and look as if the old +savageness was coming back upon her. The children snatched up their +mugs, but there was no need, they had all turned into buttercups again. + +Gardener jumped over the stile, as cross as two sticks, with an old rope +in his hand. + +"Oh, what a bother I've had! Breakfast ready, and no milk yet--and such +a row as they are making over those lost ducklings. Stand back, you +children, and don't hinder me a minute. No use begging--not a drop of +milk shall you get. Hillo, Dolly? Quiet old girl!" + +Quiet enough she was this time--but you might as well have milked a +plaster cow in a London milking-shop. Not one ringing drop resounded +against the empty pail; for, when they peeped in, the children saw, to +their amazement, that it was empty. + +[Illustration: Each child got a drink, and then the cups were filled +again.--Page 32] + +"The creature's bewitched!" cried the Gardener, in a great fury. "Or +else somebody has milked her dry already. Have you done it? or you?" he +asked each of the children. + +They might have said No--which was the literal truth--but then it would +not have been the whole truth, for they knew quite well that Dolly had +been milked, and also who had done it. And their mother had always +taught them that to make a person believe a lie is nearly as bad as +telling him one. Yet still they did not like to betray the kind little +Brownie. Greatly puzzled, they hung their heads and said nothing. + +"Look in your pail again," cried a voice from the other side of Dolly. +And there at the bottom was just the usual quantity of milk--no more and +no less. + +The Gardener was very much astonished. "It must be the Brownie!" +muttered he, in a frightened tone; and, taking off his hat, "Thank you, +sir," said he to Mr. Nobody--at which the children all burst out +laughing. But they kept their own counsel, and he was afraid to ask them +any more questions. + +By-and-by his fright wore off a little. "I only hope the milk is good +milk, and will poison nobody," said he, sulkily. "However, that's not my +affair. You children had better tell your mother all about it. I left +her in the farmyard in a pretty state of mind about her ducklings." + +Perhaps Brownie heard this, and was sorry, for he liked the children's +mother, who had always been kind to him. Besides, he never did any body +harm who did not deserve it; and though, being a Brownie, he could +hardly be said to have a conscience, he had something which stood in the +place of one--a liking to see people happy rather than miserable. + +So, instead of going to bed under his big coal for the day, when, after +breakfast, the children and their mother came out to look at a new brood +of chickens, he crept after them and hid behind the hencoop where the +old mother-hen was put, with her young ones round her. + +There had been great difficulty in getting her in there, for she was a +hen who hatched her brood on independent principles. Instead of sitting +upon the nice nest that the Gardener made for her, she had twice gone +into a little wood close by and made a nest for herself, which nobody +could ever find; and where she hatched in secret, coming every second +day to be fed, and then vanishing again, till at last she re-appeared in +triumph, with her chickens running after her. The first brood there had +been twelve, but of this there were fourteen--all from her own eggs, of +course, and she was uncommonly proud of them. So was the Gardener, so +was the mistress--who liked all young things. Such a picture as they +were! fourteen soft, yellow, fluffy things, running about after their +mother. It had been a most troublesome business to catch--first her, and +then them, to put them under the coop. The old hen resisted, and pecked +furiously at Gardener's legs, and the chickens ran about in frantic +terror, chirping wildly in answer to her clucking. + +At last, however, the little family was safe in shelter, and the +chickens counted over, to see that none had been lost in the scuffle. +How funny they were! looking so innocent and yet so wise, as chickens +do--peering out at the world from under their mother's wing, or hopping +over her back, or snuggled all together under her breast, so that +nothing was seen of them but a mass of yellow legs, like a great +centiped. + +"How happy the old hen is," said the children's mother, looking on, and +then looking compassionately at that other forlorn old hen, who had +hatched the ducklings, and kept wandering about the farmyard, clucking +miserably, "Those poor ducklings, what can have become of them? If rats +had killed them, we should have found feathers or something; and weasels +would have sucked their brains and left them. They must have been +stolen, or wandered away, and died of cold and hunger--my poor +ducklings!" + +The mistress sighed, for she could not bear any living thing to suffer. +And the children nearly cried at the thought of what might be happening +to their pretty ducklings. That very minute a little wee brown face +peered through a hole in the hencoop, making the old mother-hen fly +furiously at it--as she did at the slightest shadow of an enemy to her +little ones. However, no harm happened--only a guinea-fowl suddenly ran +across the farmyard, screaming in its usual harsh voice. But it was not +the usual sort of guinea-fowl, being larger and handsomer than any of +theirs. + +"Oh, what a beauty of a creature! how did it ever come into our +farmyard," cried the delighted children; and started off after it, to +catch it if possible. + +But they ran, and they ran--through the gate and out into the lane; and +the guinea-fowl still ran on before them, until, turning round a corner, +they lost sight of it, and immediately saw something else, equally +curious. Sitting on the top of a big thistle--so big that he must have +had to climb it just like a tree--was the Brownie. His legs were +crossed, and his arms too, his little brown cap was stuck knowingly on +one side, and he was laughing heartily. + +"How do you do? Here I am again. I thought I wouldn't go to bed after +all. Shall I help you to find the ducklings? Very well! come along." + +They crossed the field, Brownie running beside them, and as fast as they +could, though he looked such an old man; and sometimes turning over on +legs and arms like a Catherine wheel--which they tried to imitate, but +generally failed, and only bruised their fingers and noses. + +He lured them on and on till they came to the wood, and to a green path +in it, which well as they knew the neighborhood, none of the children +had ever seen before. It led to a most beautiful pond, as clear as +crystal and as blue as the sky. Large trees grew round it, dipping their +branches in the water, as if they were looking at themselves in a glass. +And all about their roots were quantities of primroses--the biggest +primroses the little girls had ever seen. Down they dropped on their fat +knees, squashing more primroses than they gathered, though they tried to +gather them all; and the smallest child even began to cry because her +hands were so full that the flowers dropped through her fingers. But the +boys, older and more practical, rather despised primroses. + +"I thought we had come to look for ducklings," said the eldest. "Mother +is fretting dreadfully about her ducklings. Where can they be?" + +"Shut your eyes, and you'll see," said the Brownie, at which they all +laughed, but did it; and when they opened their eyes again, what should +they behold but a whole fleet of ducklings sailing out from the roots of +an old willow-tree, one after the other, looking as fat and content as +possible, and swimming as naturally as if they had lived on a pond--and +this particularly pond, all their days. + +"Count them," said the Brownie, "the whole eight--quite correct. And +then try and catch them--if you can." + +Easier said than done. The boys set to work with great +satisfaction--boys do so enjoy hunting something. They coaxed them--they +shouted at them--they threw little sticks at them; but as soon as they +wanted them to go one way the fleet of ducklings immediately turned +round and sailed another way, doing it so deliberately and majestically, +that the children could not help laughing. As for little Brownie, he sat +on a branch of the willow-tree, with his legs dangling down to the +surface of the pond, kicking at the water-spiders, and grinning with all +his might. At length, quite tired out, in spite of their fun, the +children begged for his help, and he took compassion on them. + +"Turn round three times and see what you can find," shouted he. + +Immediately each little boy found in his arms, and each little girl in +her pinafore, a fine fat duckling. And there being eight of them, the +two elder children had each a couple. They were rather cold and damp, +and slightly uncomfortable to cuddle, ducks not being used to cuddling. +Poor things! they struggled hard to get away. But the children hugged +them tight, and ran as fast as their legs could carry them through the +wood, forgetting, in their joy, even to say "Thank you" to the little +Brownie. + +When they reached their mother she was as glad as they, for she never +thought to see her ducklings again; and to have them back alive and +uninjured, and watch them running to the old hen, who received them with +an ecstasy of delight, was so exciting, that nobody thought of asking a +single question as to where they had been found. + +When the mother did ask, the children told her about Brownie's taking +them to the beautiful pond--and what a wonderful pond it was; how green +the trees were round it; and how large the primroses grew. They never +tired of talking about it and seeking for it. But the odd thing was +that, seek as they might, they never could find it again. Many a day did +the little people roam about one by one, or all together, round the +wood, often getting themselves sadly draggled with mud and torn with +brambles--but the beautiful pond they never found again. + +Nor did the ducklings, I suppose; for they wandered no more from the +farmyard, to the old mother-hen's great content. They grew up into fat +and respectable ducks--five white ones and three gray ones--waddling +about, very content, though they never saw water, except the tank which +was placed for them to paddle in. They lived a lazy, peaceful, pleasant +life for a long time, and were at last killed and eaten with green peas, +one after the other, to the family's great satisfaction, if not to their +own. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +ADVENTURE THE FOURTH + +BROWNIE'S RIDE + + +FOR the little Brownie, though not given to horsemanship, did once take +a ride, and a very remarkable one it was. Shall I tell you all about it? + +The six little children got a present of something they had longed for +all their lives--a pony. Not a rocking-horse, but a real live pony--a +Shetland pony, too, which had traveled all the way from the Shetland +Isles to Devonshire--where every body wondered at it, for such a +creature had not been seen in the neighborhood for years and years. She +was no bigger than a donkey, and her coat, instead of being smooth like +a horse's, was shaggy like a young bear's. She had a long tail, which +had never been cut, and such a deal of hair in her mane and over her +eyes that it gave her quite a fierce countenance. In fact, among the +mild and tame Devonshire beasts, the little Shetland pony looked almost +like a wild animal. But in reality she was the gentlest creature in the +world. Before she had been many days with them, she began to know the +children quite well; followed them about, ate corn out of the bowl they +held out to her; nay, one day, when the eldest little girl offered her +bread-and-butter, she stooped her head and took it from the child's +hand, just like a young lady. Indeed, Jess--that was her name--was +altogether so lady-like in her behavior, that more than once Cook +allowed her to walk in at the back-door, when she stood politely warming +her nose at the kitchen-fire for a minute or two, then turned round and +as politely walked out again. But she never did any mischief; and was so +quiet and gentle a creature that she bade fair soon to become as great a +pet in the household as the dog, the cat, the kittens, the puppies, the +fowls, the ducks, the cow, the pig, and all the other members of the +family. + +The only one who disliked her, and grumbled at her, was the Gardener. +This was odd; because, though cross to children, the old man was kind to +dumb beasts. Even his pig knew his voice and grunted, and held out his +nose to be scratched; and he always gave each successive pig a name, +Jack or Dick, and called them by it, and was quite affectionate to them, +one after the other, until the very day that they were killed. But they +were English pigs--and the pony was Scotch--and the Devonshire Gardener +hated every thing Scotch, he said; besides, he was not used to groom's +work, and the pony required such a deal of grooming on account of her +long hair. More than once Gardener threatened to clip it short, and turn +her into a regular English pony, but the children were in such distress +and mother forbade any such spoiling of Jessie's personal appearance. + +At length, to keep things smooth, and to avoid the rough words and even +blows which poor Jess sometimes got, they sought in the village for a +boy to look after her, and found a great rough, shock-headed lad named +Bill, who, for a few shillings a week, consented to come up every +morning and learn the beginning of a groom's business; hoping to end, as +his mother said he should, in sitting, like the squire's fat coachman, +as broad as he was long, on the top of the hammer-cloth of a grand +carriage, and do nothing all day but drive a pair of horses as stout as +himself a few miles along the road and back again. + +Bill would have liked this very much, he thought, if he could have been +a coachman all at once, for if there was one thing he disliked, it was +work. He much preferred to lie in the sun all day and do nothing; and he +only agreed to come and take care of Jess because she was such a very +little pony, that looking after her seemed next door to doing nothing. +But when he tried it, he found his mistake. True, Jess was a very gentle +beast, so quiet that the old mother-hen with fourteen chicks used, +instead of roosting with the rest of the fowls, to come regularly into +the portion of the cow-shed which was partitioned off for a stable, and +settle under a corner of Jess's manger for the night; and in the morning +the chicks would be seen running about fearlessly among her feet and +under her very nose. + +But, for all that, she required a little management, for she did not +like her long hair to be roughly handled; it took a long time to clean +her; and, though she did not scream out like some silly little children +when her hair was combed, I am afraid she sometimes kicked and bounced +about, giving Bill a deal of trouble--all the more trouble, the more +impatient Bill was. + +And then he had to keep within call, for the children wanted their pony +at all hours. She was their own especial property, and they insisted +upon learning to ride--even before they got a saddle. Hard work it was +to stick on Jess's bare back, but by degrees the boys did it, turn and +turn about, and even gave their sisters a turn too--a very little +one--just once round the field and back again, which was quite enough, +they considered, for girls. But they were very kind to their little +sisters, held them on so that they could not fall, and led Jess +carefully and quietly: and altogether behaved as elder brothers should. + +Nor did they squabble very much among themselves, though sometimes it +was rather difficult to keep their turns all fair, and remember +accurately which was which. But they did their best, being, on the +whole, extremely good children. And they were so happy to have their +pony, that they would have been ashamed to quarrel over her. + +Also, one very curious thing kept them on their good behavior. Whenever +they did begin to misconduct themselves--to want to ride out of their +turns, or to domineer over one another, or the boys, joining together, +tried to domineer over the girls, as I grieve to say boys not seldom +do--they used to hear in the air, right over their heads, the crack of +an unseen whip. It was none of theirs, for they had not got a whip; that +was a felicity which their father had promised when they could all ride +like a young gentleman and ladies; but there was no mistaking the +sound--indeed, it always startled Jess so that she set off galloping, +and could not be caught again for many minutes. + +This happened several times, until one of them said, "Perhaps it's the +Brownie." Whether it was or not, it made them behave better for a good +while; till one unfortunate day the two eldest began contending which +should ride foremost and which hindmost on Jess's back, when +"Crick--crack!" went the whip in the air, frightening the pony so much +that she kicked up her heels, tossed both the boys over her head, and +scampered off, followed by a loud "Ha, ha, ha!" + +It certainly did not come from the two boys, who had fallen--quite +safely, but rather unpleasantly--into a large nettle-bed; whence they +crawled out, rubbing their arms and legs, and looking too much ashamed +to complain. But they were rather frightened and a little cross, for +Jess took a skittish fit, and refused to be caught and mounted again, +till the bell rang for school--when she grew as meek as possible. Too +late--for the children were obliged to run indoors, and got no more +rides for the whole day. + +Jess was from this incident supposed to be on the same friendly terms +with Brownie as were the rest of the household. Indeed, when she came, +the children had taken care to lead her up to the coal-cellar door and +introduce her properly--for they knew Brownie was very jealous of +strangers, and often played them tricks. But after that piece of +civility he would be sure, they thought, to take her under his +protection. And sometimes, when the little Shetlander was restless and +pricked up her ears, looking preternaturally wise under those shaggy +brows of hers, the children used to say to one another, "Perhaps she +sees the Brownie." + +Whether she did or not, Jess sometimes seemed to see a good deal that +others did not see, and was apparently a favorite with the Brownie, for +she grew and thrived so much that she soon became the pride and delight +of the children and of the whole family. You would hardly have known her +for the rough, shaggy, half-starved little beast that had arrived a few +weeks before. Her coat was so silky, her limbs so graceful, and her head +so full of intelligence, that every body admired her. Then even Gardener +began to admire her too. + +"I think I'll get upon her back; it will save me walking down to the +village," said he, one day. And she actually carried him--though, as his +feet nearly touched the ground, it looked as if the man were carrying +the pony, and not the pony the man. And the children laughed so +immoderately, that he never tried it afterward. + +Nor Bill neither, though he had once thought he should like a ride, and +got astride on Jess; but she quickly ducked her head down, and he +tumbled over it. Evidently she had her own tastes as to her riders, and +much preferred little people to big ones. + +Pretty Jess! when cantering round the paddock with the young folk she +really was quite a picture. And when at last she got a saddle--a new, +beautiful saddle, with a pommel to take off and on, so as to suit both +boys and girls--how proud they all were, Jess included! That day they +were allowed to take her into the market-town--Gardener leading her, as +Bill could not be trusted--and every body, even the blacksmith, who +hoped by-and-by to have the pleasure of shoeing her, said, what a +beautiful pony she was! + +After this, Gardener treated Jess a great deal better, and showed Bill +how to groom her, and kept him close at it too, which Bill did not like +at all. He was a very lazy lad, and whenever he could shirk work he did +it; and many a time when the children wanted Jess, either there was +nobody to saddle her, or she had not been properly groomed, or Bill was +away at his dinner, and they had to wait till he came back and could put +her in order to be taken out for a ride like a genteel animal--which I +am afraid neither pony nor children enjoyed half so much as the old ways +before Bill came. + +Still, they were gradually becoming excellent little horsemen and +horsewomen--even the youngest, only four years old, whom all the rest +were very tender over, and who was often held on Jess's back and given a +ride out of her turn because she was a good little girl, and never cried +for it. And seldomer and seldomer was heard the mysterious sound of the +whip in the air, which warned them of quarreling--Brownie hated +quarreling. + +[Illustration: Jess quickly ducked her head down and Bill tumbled over +it.] + +In fact, their only trouble was Bill, who never came to his work in +time, and never did things when wanted, and was ill-natured, lazy, and +cross to the children, so that they disliked him very much. + +"I wish the Brownie would punish you," said one of the boys; "you'd +behave better then." + +"The Brownie!" cried Bill, contemptuously; "if I caught him, I'd kick +him up in the air like this!" + +And he kicked up his cap--his only cap, it was--which, strange to +relate, flew right up, ever so high, and lodged at the very top of a +tree which overhung the stable, where it dangled for weeks and weeks, +during which time poor Bill had to go bareheaded. + +He was very much vexed, and revenged himself by vexing the children in +all sorts of ways. They would have told their mother, and asked her to +send Bill away, only she had a great many anxieties just then, for their +old grandmother was very ill, and they did not like to make a fuss about +any thing that would trouble her. + +So Bill staid on, and nobody found out what a bad, ill-natured, lazy boy +he was. + +But one day the mother was sent for suddenly, not knowing when she +should be able to come home again. She was very sad, and so were the +children, for they loved their grandmother--and as the carriage drove +off they all stood crying round the front-door for ever so long. + +The servants even cried too--all but Bill. + +"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," said he. "What a jolly time I +shall have! I'll do nothing all day long. Those troublesome children +sha'n't have Jess to ride; I'll keep her in the stable, and then she +won't get dirty, and I shall have no trouble in cleaning her. Hurrah! +what fun!" + +He put his hands in his pockets, and sat whistling the best part of the +afternoon. + +The children had been so unhappy, that for that day they quite forgot +Jess; but next morning, after lessons were over, they came begging for a +ride. + +"You can't get one. The stable-door's locked and I've lost the key." (He +had it in his pocket all the time.) + +"How is poor Jess to get her dinner?" cried a thoughtful little girl. +"Oh, how hungry she will be!" + +And the child was quite in distress, as were the two other girls. But +the boys were more angry than sorry. + +"It was very stupid of you, Bill, to lose the key. Look about and find +it, or else break open the door." + +"I won't," said Bill; "I dare say the key will turn up before night, and +if it doesn't, who cares? You get riding enough and too much. I'll not +bother myself about it, or Jess either." + +And Bill sauntered away. He was a big fellow, and the little lads were +rather afraid of him. But as he walked, he could not keep his hand out +of his trowsers-pocket, where the key felt growing heavier and heavier, +till he expected it every minute to tumble through and come out at his +boots--convicting him before all the children of having told a lie. + +Nobody was in the habit of telling lies to them, so they never suspected +him, but went innocently searching about for the key--Bill all the while +clutching it fast. But every time he touched it, he felt his fingers +pinched, as if there was a cockroach in his pocket--or little +lobster--or something, anyhow, that had claws. At last, fairly +frightened, he made an excuse to go into the cow-shed, took the key out +of his pocket and looked at it, and finally hid it in a corner of the +manger, among the hay. + +As he did so, he heard a most extraordinary laugh, which was certainly +not from Dolly the cow, and, as he went out of the shed, he felt the +same sort of pinch at his ankles, which made him so angry that he kept +striking with his whip in all directions, but hit nobody for nobody was +there. + +But Jess--who, as soon as she heard the children's voices, set up a most +melancholy whinnying behind the locked stable-door--began to neigh +energetically. And Boxer barked, and the hens cackled, and the +guinea-fowls cried "Come back, come back!" in their usual insane +fashion--indeed, the whole farmyard seemed in such an excited state, +that the children got frightened lest Gardener should scold them, and +ran away, leaving Bill master of the field. + +What an idle day he had! How he sat on the wall with his hands in his +pockets, and lounged upon the fence, and sauntered around the garden! At +length, absolutely tired of doing nothing, he went and talked with the +Gardener's wife while she was hanging out her clothes. Gardener had gone +down to the lower field, with all the little folks after him, so that he +knew nothing of Bill's idling, or it might have come to an end. + +By-and-by Bill thought it was time to go home to his supper. "But first +I'll give Jess her corn," said he, "double quantity, and then I need not +come back to give her her breakfast so early in the morning. Soh! you +greedy beast! I'll be at you presently, if you don't stop that noise." + +For Jess, at sound of his footsteps, was heard to whinny in the most +imploring manner, enough to have melted a heart of stone. + +"The key--where on earth did I put the key?" cried Bill, whose constant +habit it was to lay things out of his hand and then forget where he had +put them, causing himself endless loss of time in searching for them--as +now. At last he suddenly remembered the corner of the cow's manger, +where he felt sure he had left it. But the key was not there. + +"You can't have eaten it, you silly old cow," said he, striking Dolly on +the nose as she rubbed herself against him--she was an affectionate +beast. "Nor you, you stupid old hen!" kicking the mother of the brood, +who, with her fourteen chicks, being shut out of their usual +roosting-place--Jess's stable--kept pecking about under Dolly's legs. +"It can't have gone without hands--of course it can't." But most +certainly the key was gone. + +What in the world should Bill do? Jess kept on making a pitiful +complaining. No wonder, as she had not tasted food since morning. It +would have made any kind-hearted person quite sad to hear her, thinking +how exceedingly hungry the poor pony must be. + +Little did Bill care for that, or for anything, except that he should be +sure to get into trouble as soon as he was found out. When he heard +Gardener coming into the farmyard, with the children after him, Bill +bolted over the wall like a flash of lightning, and ran away home, +leaving poor Jess to her fate. + +All the way he seemed to hear at his heels a little dog yelping, and +then a swarm of gnats buzzing round his head, and altogether was so +perplexed and bewildered, that when he got into his mother's cottage he +escaped into bed, and pulled the blanket over his ears to shut out the +noise of the dog and the gnats, which at last turned into a sound like +somebody laughing. It was not his mother, she didn't often laugh, poor +soul!--Bill bothered her quite too much for that, and he knew it. +Dreadfully frightened, he hid his head under the bedclothes, determined +to go to sleep and think about nothing till next day. + +Meantime Gardener returned, with all the little people trooping after +him. He had been rather kinder to them than usual this day, because he +knew their mother had gone away in trouble, and now he let them help him +to roll the gravel, and fetch up Dolly to be milked, and watch him milk +her in the cow-shed--where, it being nearly winter, she always spent the +night now. They were so well amused that they forgot all about their +disappointment as to the ride, and Jess did not remind them of it by +her whinnying. For as soon as Bill was gone she grew silent. + +At last one little girl, the one who had cried over Jess's being left +hungry, remembered the poor pony, and, peeping through a crevice in the +cow-shed, saw her stand contentedly munching at a large bowlful of corn. + +"So Bill did find the key. I'm very glad," thought the kind little +maiden, and to make sure looked again, when--what do you think she +beheld squatting on the manger? Something brown--either a large brown +rat, or a small brown man. But she held her tongue, since, being a very +little girl, people sometimes laughed at her for the strange things she +saw. She was quite certain she did see them, for all that. + +So she and the rest of the children went indoors and to bed. When they +were fast asleep, something happened. Something so curious, that the +youngest boy, who, thinking he heard Jess neighing, got up to look out, +was afraid to tell, lest he too should be laughed at, and went back to +bed immediately. + +In the middle of the night, a little old brown man carrying a lantern, +or at least having a light in his hand that looked like a lantern--went +and unlocked Jess's stable, and patted her pretty head. At first she +started, but soon she grew quiet and pleased, and let him do what he +chose with her. He began rubbing her down, making the same funny hissing +with his mouth that Bill did, and all grooms do--I never could find out +why. But Jess evidently liked it, and stood as good as possible. + +[Illustration: Up the bank she scrambled, her long hair dripping.--Page +55] + +"Isn't it nice to be clean?" said the wee man, talking to her as if she +were a human being, or a Brownie. "And I dare say your poor little +legs ache with standing so long. Shall we have a run together? the moon +shines bright in the clear, cold night. Dear me! I'm talking poetry." + +But Brownies are not poetical fairies, quite commonplace, and up to all +sorts of work. So, while he talked, he was saddling and bridling Jess, +she not objecting in the least. Finally, he jumped on her back. + +"'Off, said the stranger--off, off, and away!'" sang Brownie mimicking a +song of the Cook's. People in that house often heard their songs +repeated in the oddest way, from room to room, everybody fancying it was +somebody else that did it. But it was only the Brownie. "Now, 'A +southerly wind and a cloudy sky proclaim a hunting morning!'" + +Or night--for it was the middle of the night, though bright as day--and +Jess galloped and the Brownie sat on her back as merrily as if they had +gone hunting together all their days. + +Such a steeple-chase it was! They cleared the farmyard at a single +bound, and went flying down the road, and across the ploughed field, and +into the wood. Then out into the open country, and by-and-by into a +dark, muddy lane--and oh! how muddy Devonshire lanes can be sometimes! + +"Let's go into the water to wash ourselves," said Brownie, and coaxed +Jess into a deep stream, which she swam as bravely as possible--she had +not had such a frolic since she left her native Shetland Isles. Up the +bank she scrambled, her long hair dripping as if she had been a +water-dog instead of a pony. Brownie, too, shook himself like a rat or a +beaver, throwing a shower round him in all directions. + +"Never mind; at it again, my lass!" and he urged Jess into the water +once more. Out she came, wetter and brisker than ever, and went back +home again through the lane, and the wood, and the ploughed field, +galloping like the wind, and tossing back her ears and mane and tail, +perfectly frantic with enjoyment. + +But when she reached her stable, the plight she was in would have driven +any respectable groom frantic too. Her sides were white with foam, and +the mud was sticking all over her like a plaster. As for her beautiful +long hair, it was all caked together in a tangle, as if all the combs in +the world would never make it smooth again. Her mane especially was +plaited into knots, which people in Devonshire call elf-locks, and say, +when they find them on their horses, that it is because the fairies have +been riding them. + +Certainly, poor Jess had been pretty well ridden that night. When just +as the dawn began to break, Gardener got up and looked into the +farmyard, his sharp eye caught sight of the stable-door wide open. + +"Well done, Bill," shouted he, "up early at last. One hour before +breakfast is worth three after." + +But no Bill was there; only Jess, trembling and shaking, all in a foam, +and muddy from head to foot, but looking perfectly cheerful in her mind. +And out from under her fore legs ran a small creature which Gardener +mistook for Tiny, only Tiny was gray, and this dog was brown, of course! + +I should not like to tell you all that was said to Bill when, an hour +after breakfast-time, he came skulking up to the farm. In fact, words +failing, Gardener took a good stick and laid it about Bill's shoulders, +saying he would either do this, or tell the mistress of him, and how he +had left the stable-door open all night, and some bad fellow had stolen +Jess, and galloped her all across the country, till, if she hadn't been +the cleverest pony in the world, she never could have got back again. + +Bill durst not contradict this explanation of the story, especially as +the key was found hanging up in its proper place by the kitchen door. +And when he went to fetch it, he heard the most extraordinary sound in +the coal-cellar close by--like somebody snoring or laughing. Bill took +to his heels, and did not come back for a whole hour. + +But when he did come back, he made himself as busy as possible. He +cleaned Jess, which was half a day's work at least. Then he took the +little people a ride, and afterward put his stable in the most beautiful +order, and altogether was such a changed Bill, that Gardener told him he +must have left himself at home and brought back somebody else: whether +or not, the boy certainly improved, so that there was less occasion to +find fault with him afterward. + +Jess lived to be quite an old pony, and carried a great many +people--little people always, for she herself never grew any bigger. But +I don't think she ever carried a Brownie again. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +ADVENTURE THE FIFTH + +BROWNIE ON THE ICE + + +WINTER was a grand time with the six little children especially when +they had frost and snow. This happened seldom enough for it to be the +greatest possible treat when it did happen; and it never lasted very +long, for the winters are warm in Devonshire. + +There was a little lake three fields off, which made the most splendid +sliding-place imaginable. No skaters went near it--it was not large +enough; and besides, there was nobody to skate, the neighborhood being +lonely. The lake itself looked the loneliest place imaginable. It was +not very deep--not deep enough to drown a man--but it had a gravelly +bottom, and was always very clear. Also, the trees round it grew so +thick that they sheltered it completely from the wind, so, when it did +freeze, it generally froze as smooth as a sheet of glass. + +"The lake bears!" was such a grand event, and so rare, that when it did +occur, the news came at once to the farm, and the children carried it as +quickly to their mother. For she had promised them that, if such a +thing did happen this year--it did not happen every year--lessons should +be stopped entirely, and they should all go down to the lake and slide, +if they liked, all day long. + +So one morning, just before Christmas, the eldest boy ran in with a +countenance of great delight. + +"Mother, mother, the lake bears!" (It was rather a compliment to call it +a lake, it being only about twenty yards across and forty long.) "The +lake really bears!" + +"Who says so?" + +"Bill. Bill has been on it for an hour this morning, and has made us two +such beautiful slides, he says--an upslide and a down-slide. May we go +directly?" + +The mother hesitated. + +"You promised, you know," pleaded the children. + +"Very well, then; only be careful." + +"And may we slide all day long, and never come home for dinner or any +thing?" + +"Yes, if you like. Only Gardener must go with you, and stay all day." + +This they did not like at all; nor, when Gardener was spoken to, did he. + +"You bothering children! I wish you may all get a good ducking in the +lake! Serve you right for making me lose a day's work, just to look +after you little monkeys. I've a great mind to tell your mother I won't +do it." + +But he did not, being fond of his mistress. He was also fond of his +work, but he had no notion of play. I think the saying of, "All work and +no play makes Jack a dull boy," must have been applied to him, for +Gardener, whatever he had been as a boy, was certainly a dull and +melancholy man. The children used to say that if he and idle Bill could +have been kneaded into one, and baked in the oven--a very warm +oven--they would have come out rather a pleasant person. + +As it was, Gardener was any thing but a pleasant person; above all, to +spend a long day with, and on the ice, where one needs all one's +cheerfulness and good-humor to bear pinched fingers and numbed toes, and +trips and tumbles, and various uncomfortablenesses. + +"He'll growl at us all day long--he'll be a regular spoil-sport!" +lamented the children. "Oh! mother, mightn't we go alone?" + +"No!" said the mother; and her "No" meant no, though she was always very +kind. They argued the point no more, but started off, rather +downhearted. But soon they regained their spirits, for it was a bright, +clear, frosty day--the sun shining, though not enough to melt the ice, +and just sufficient to lie like a thin sprinkling over the grass, and +turn the brown branches into white ones. The little people danced along +to keep themselves warm, carrying between them a basket which held their +lunch. A very harmless lunch it was--just a large brown loaf and a lump +of cheese, and a knife to cut it with. Tossing the basket about in their +fun, they managed to tumble the knife out, and were having a search for +it in the long grass, when Gardener came up, grumpily enough. + +"To think of trusting you children with one of the table-knives and a +basket! what a fool Cook must be! I'll tell her so; and if they're lost +she'll blame me: give me the things." + +He put the knife angrily in one pocket. "Perhaps it will cut a hole in +it," said one of the children, in rather a pleased tone than otherwise; +then he turned the lunch all out on the grass and crammed it in the +other pocket, hiding the basket behind a hedge. + +"I'm sure I'll not be at the trouble of carrying it," said he, when the +children cried out at this; "and you shan't carry it either, for you'll +knock it about and spoil it. And as for your lunch getting warm in my +pocket, why, so much the better this cold day." + +It was not a lively joke, and they knew the pocket was very dirty; +indeed, the little girls had seen him stuff a dead rat into it only the +day before. They looked ready to cry; but there was no help for them, +except going back and complaining to their mother, and they did not like +to do that. Besides, they knew that, though Gardener was cross, he was +trustworthy, and she would never let them go down to the lake without +him. + +So they followed him, trying to be as good as they could--though it was +difficult work. One of them proposed pelting him with snowballs, as they +pelted each other. But at the first--which fell in his neck--he turned +round so furiously, that they never sent a second, but walked behind him +as meek as mice. + +As they went, they heard little steps pattering after them. + +"Perhaps it is the Brownie to play with us--I wish he would," whispered +the youngest girl to the eldest boy, whose hand she generally held; and +then the little pattering steps sounded again, traveling through the +snow, but they saw nobody--so they said nothing. + +The children would have liked to go straight to the ice; but Gardener +insisted on taking them a mile round, to look at an extraordinary animal +which a farmer there had just got--sent by his brother in Australia. The +two old men stood gossiping so long that the children wearied +extremely. Every minute seemed an hour till they got on the ice. + +At last one of them pulled Gardener's coat-tails, and whispered that +they were quite ready to go. + +"Then I'm not," and he waited ever so much longer, and got a drink of +hot cider, which made him quite lively for a little while. + +But by the time they reached the lake, he was as cross as ever. He +struck the ice with his stick, but made no attempt to see if it really +did bear--though he would not allow the children to go one step upon it +till he had tried. + +"I know it doesn't bear, and you'll just have to go home again--a good +thing too--saves me from losing a day's work." + +"Try, only try; Bill said it bore," implored the boys, and looked +wistfully at the two beautiful slides--just as Bill said, one up and one +down--stretching all across the lake; "of course it bears, or Bill could +not have made these slides." + +"Bill's an ass!" said the Gardener, and put his heavy foot cautiously on +the ice. Just then there was seen jumping across it a creature which +certainly had never been seen on ice before. It made the most +extraordinary bounds on its long hind legs, with its little fore legs +tucked up in front of it as if it wanted to carry a muff; and its long, +stiff tail sticking out straight behind, to balance it itself with +apparently. The children at first started with surprise, and then burst +out laughing, for it was the funniest creature, and had the funniest way +of getting along, that they had ever seen in their lives. + +"It's the kangaroo!" said Gardener, in great excitement. "It has got +loose--and it's sure to be lost--and what a way Mr. Giles will be in! I +must go and tell him. Or stop, I'll try and catch it." + +But in vain--it darted once or twice across the ice, dodging him, as it +were; and once coming so close that he nearly caught it by the tail--to +the children's great delight--then it vanished entirely. + +"I must go and tell Mr. Giles directly," said Gardener, and then +stopped. For he had promised not to leave the children; and it was such +a wild-goose chase, after an escaped kangaroo. But he might get half a +crown as a reward, and he was sure of another glass of cider. + +"You just stop quiet here, and I'll be back in five minutes," said he to +the children. "You may go a little way on the ice--I think it's sound +enough; only mind you don't tumble in, for there'll be nobody to pull +you out." + +"Oh no," said the children, clapping their hands. They did not care for +tumbling in, and were quite glad there was nobody there to pull them +out. They hoped Gardener would stop a very long time away--only, as some +one suggested when he was seen hurrying across the snowy field, he had +taken away their lunch in his pocket, too. + +Off they darted, the three elder boys, with a good run; the biggest of +the girls followed after them; and soon the whole four were skimming one +after the other, as fast as a railway train, across the slippery ice. +And, like a railway train, they had a collision, and all came tumbling +one over the other, with great screaming and laughing, to the high bank +on the other side. The two younger ones stood mournfully watching the +others from the opposite bank--when there stood beside them a small +brown man. + +"Ho-ho! little people," said he, coming between them and taking hold of +a hand of each. His was so warm and theirs so cold, that it was quite +comfortable. And then, somehow, they found in their mouths a nice +lozenge--I think it was peppermint, but am not sure; which comforted +them still more. + +"Did you want me to play with you?" cried the Brownie; "then here I am. +What shall we do? Have a turn on the ice together?" + +No sooner said than done. The two children felt themselves floating +along--it was more like floating than running--with Brownie between +them; up the lake, and down the lake, and across the lake, not at all +interfering with the sliders--indeed, it was a great deal better than +sliding. Rosy and breathless, their toes so nice and warm, and their +hands feeling like mince-pies just taken out of the oven--the little +ones came to a standstill. + +The elder ones stopped their sliding, and looked toward Brownie with +entreating eyes. He swung himself up to a willow bough, and then turned +head over heels on to the ice. + +"Halloo! you don't mean to say you big ones want a race too! Well, come +along--if the two eldest will give a slide to the little ones." + +He watched them take a tiny sister between them, and slide her up one +slide and down another, screaming with delight. Then he took the two +middle children in either hand. + +"One, two, three, and away!" Off they started--scudding along as light +as feathers and as fast as steam-engines, over the smooth, black ice, so +clear that they could see the bits of stick and water-grasses frozen in +it, and even the little fishes swimming far down below--if they had only +looked long enough. + +When all had had their fair turns, they began to be frightfully hungry. + +[Illustration: The two little children felt themselves floating +along--with Brownie between them--Page 64] + +"Catch a fish for dinner, and I'll lend you a hook," said Brownie. At +which they all laughed, and then looked rather grave. Pulling a cold, +raw live fish from under the ice and eating it was not a pleasant idea +of dinner. "Well, what would you like to have? Let the little one +choose." + +She said, after thinking a minute, that she should like a currant-cake. + +"And I'd give all you a bit of it--a very large bit--I would indeed!" +added she, almost with the tears in her eyes--she was so very hungry. + +"Do it, then!" said the Brownie, in his little squeaking voice. + +Immediately the stone that the little girl was sitting on--a round, hard +stone, and so cold!--turned into a nice hot cake--so hot that she jumped +up directly. As soon as she saw what it was, she clapped her hands for +joy. + +"Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful cake! only we haven't got a knife to +cut it." + +The boys felt in all their pockets, but somehow their knives never were +there when they were wanted. + +"Look! you've got one in your hand!" said Brownie to the little one; and +that minute a bit of stick she held turned into a bread-knife--silver, +with an ivory handle--big enough and sharp enough, without being too +sharp. For the youngest girl was not allowed to use sharp knives, though +she liked cutting things excessively, especially cakes. + +"That will do. Sit you down and carve the dinner. Fair shares and don't +let any body eat too much. Now begin, ma'am," said the Brownie, quite +politely, as if she had been ever so old. + +Oh, how proud the little girl was. How bravely she set to work, and cut +five of the biggest slices you ever saw, and gave them to her brothers +and sisters, and was just going to take the sixth slice for herself, +when she remembered the Brownie. + +"I beg your pardon," said she, as politely as he, though she was such a +very little girl, and turned round to the wee brown man. But he was +nowhere to be seen. The slices of cake in the children's hands remained +cake, and uncommonly good it was, and such substantial eating that it +did nearly the same as dinner; but the cake itself turned suddenly to a +stone again, and the knife into a bit of stick. + +For there was the Gardener coming clumping along by the bank of the +lake, and growling as he went. + +"Have you got the kangaroo?" shouted the children, determined to be +civil, if possible. + +"This place is bewitched, I think," said he, "The kangaroo was fast +asleep in the cow-shed. What! how dare you laugh at me?" + +But they hadn't laughed at all. And they found it no laughing matter, +poor children, when Gardener came on the ice, and began to scold them +and order them about. He was perfectly savage with crossness; for the +people at Giles's Farm had laughed at him very much, and he did not like +to be laughed at--and at the top of the field he had by chance met his +mistress, and she asked him severely how he could think of leaving the +children alone. + +Altogether, his conscience pricked him a good deal, and when people's +consciences prick them, sometimes they get angry with other people, +which is very silly, and only makes matters worse. + +"What have you been doing all this time?" said he. + +"All this five minutes?" said the oldest boy, mischievously; for +Gardener was only to be away five minutes, and he had staid a full +hour. Also, when he fumbled in his pocket for the children's lunch--to +stop their tongues, perhaps--he found it was not there. + +They set up a great outcry; for, in spite of the cake, they could have +eaten a little more. Indeed, the frost had such an effect upon all their +appetites, that they felt not unlike that celebrated gentleman of whom +it is told that + + "He ate a cow, and ate a calf, + He ate an ox, and ate a half; + He ate a church, he ate the steeple, + He ate the priest, and all the people, + And said he hadn't had enough then." + +"We're so hungry, so very hungry! Couldn't you go back again and fetch +us some dinner?" cried they, entreatingly. + +"Not I, indeed. You may go back to dinner yourselves. You shall, indeed, +for I want my dinner too. Two hours is plenty long enough to stop on the +ice." + +"It isn't two hours--it's only one." + +"Well, one will do better than more. You're all right now--and you might +soon tumble in, or break your legs on the slide. So come away home." + +It wasn't kind of Gardener, and I don't wonder the children felt it +hard; indeed, the eldest boy resisted stoutly. + +"Mother said we might stop all day, and we will stop all day. You may go +home if you like." + +"I won't, and you shall!" said Gardener, smacking a whip that he carried +in his hand. "Stop till I catch you, and I'll give you this about your +back, my fine gentleman." + +And he tried to follow, but the little fellow darted across the ice, +objecting to be either caught or whipped. It may have been rather +naughty, but I am afraid it was great fun dodging the Gardener up and +down; he being too timid to go on the slippery ice, and sometimes +getting so close that the whip nearly touched the lad. + +"Bless us! there's the kangaroo again!" said he, starting. Just as he +had caught the boy, and lifted the whip, the creature was seen +hop-hopping from bank to bank. "I can't surely be mistaken this time; I +must catch it." + +Which seemed quite easy, for it limped as if it was lame, or as if the +frost had bitten its toes, poor beast! Gardener went after it, walking +cautiously on the slippery, crackling ice, and never minding whether or +not he walked on the slides, though they called out to him that his +nailed boots would spoil them. + +But whether it was that ice which bears a boy will not bear a man, or +whether at each lame step of the kangaroo there came a great crack, is +more than I can tell. However, just as Gardener reached the middle of +the lake, the ice suddenly broke, and in he popped.--The kangaroo too, +apparently, for it was not seen afterward. + +What a hullaballoo the poor man made! Not that he was drowning--the lake +was too shallow to drown any body, but he got terribly wet, and the +water was very cold. He soon scrambled out, the boys helping him; and +then he hobbled home as fast as he could, not even saying thank you, or +taking the least notice of them. + +Indeed, nobody took notice of them--nobody came to fetch them, and they +might have staid sliding the whole afternoon. Only somehow they did not +feel quite easy in their minds. And though the hole in the ice closed up +immediately, and it seemed as firm as ever, still they did not like to +slide upon it again. + +"I think we had better go home and tell mother every thing," said one of +them. "Besides, we ought to see what has become of poor Gardener. He was +very wet." + +"Yes, but oh, how funny he looked!" And they all burst out laughing at +the recollection of the figure he cut, scrambling out through the ice +with his trowsers dripping up to the knees, and the water running out of +his boots, making a little pool, wherever he stepped. + +"And it freezes so hard, that by the time he gets home his clothes will +be as stiff as a board. His wife will have to put him to the fire to +thaw before he can get out of them." + +[Illustration: The ice suddenly broke, and in he popped.] + +Again the little people burst into shouts of laughter. Although they +laughed, they were a little sorry for the poor old Gardener, and hoped +no great harm had come to him, but that he had got safe home and been +dried by his own warm fire. + +The frosty mist was beginning already to rise, and the sun, though still +high up in the sky, looked like a ball of red-hot iron as the six +children went homeward across the fields--merry enough still, but not +quite so merry as they had been a few hours before. + +"Let's hope mother won't be vexed with us," said they, "but will let us +come back again to-morrow. It wasn't our fault that Gardener tumbled +in." + +As somebody said this, they all heard quite distinctly, "Ha, ha, ha!" +and "Ho, ho, ho!" and a sound of little steps pattering behind. + +But whatever they thought, nobody ventured to say that it was the fault +of the Brownie. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +ADVENTURE THE SIXTH AND LAST + +BROWNIE AND THE CLOTHES + + +TILL the next time; but when there is a Brownie in the house, no one can +say that any of his tricks will be the last. For there's no stopping a +Brownie, and no getting rid of him either. This one had followed the +family from house to house, generation after generation--never any +older, and sometimes seeming even to grow younger by the tricks he +played. In fact, though he looked like an old man, he was a perpetual +child. + +To the children he never did any harm, quite the contrary. And his chief +misdoings were against those who vexed the children. But he gradually +made friends with several of his grown up enemies. Cook, for instance, +who had ceased to be lazy at night and late in the morning, found no +more black footmarks on her white table cloth. And Brownie found his +basin of milk waiting for him, night after night, behind the coal-cellar +door. + +Bill, too, got on well enough with his pony, and Jess was taken no more +night-rides. No ducks were lost; and Dolly gave her milk quite +comfortably to whoever milked her. Alas! this was either Bill or the +Gardener's wife now. After that adventure on the ice, poor Gardener very +seldom appeared; when he did, it was on two crutches, for he had had +rheumatism in his feet, and could not stir outside his cottage door. +Bill, therefore, had double work; which was probably all the better for +Bill. + +The garden had to take care of itself; but this being winter-time, it +did not much signify. Besides, Brownie seldom went into the garden, +except in summer; during the hard weather he preferred to stop in his +coal-cellar. It might not have been a lively place, but it was warm, and +he liked it. + +He had company there, too; for when the cat had more kittens--the kitten +he used to tease being grown up now--they were all put in a hamper in +the coal-cellar; and of cold nights Brownie used to jump in beside them, +and be as warm and as cozy as a kitten himself. The little things never +were heard to mew; so it may be supposed they liked his society. And the +old mother-cat evidently bore him no malice for the whipping she had got +by mistake; so Brownie must have found means of coaxing her over. One +thing you may be sure of--all the while she and her kittens were in his +coal-cellar, he took care never to turn himself into a mouse. + +He was spending the winter, on the whole, very comfortably, without much +trouble either to himself or his neighbors, when one day, the +coal-cellar being nearly empty, two men, and a great wagon-load of coals +behind them, came to the door, Gardener's wife following. + +"My man says you're to give the cellar a good cleaning out before you +put any more in," said she, in her sharp voice; "and don't be lazy about +it. It'll not take you ten minutes, for it's nearly all coal-dust, +except that one big lump in the corner--you might clear that out too." + +"Stop, it's the Brownie's lump! better not meddle with it," whispered +the little scullery-maid. + +"Don't you meddle with matters that can't concern you," said the +Gardener's wife, who had been thinking what a nice help it would be to +her fire. To be sure, it was not her lump of coal, but she thought she +might take it; the mistress would never miss it, or the Brownie either. +He must be a very silly old Brownie to live under a lump of coal. + +So she argued with herself, and made the men lift it. "You must lift it, +you see, if you are to sweep the coal-cellar out clean. And you may as +well put it on the barrow, and I'll wheel it out of your way." + +This she said in quite a civil voice, lest they should tell of her, and +stood by while it was being done. It was done without any thing +happening, except that a large rat ran out of the coal-cellar door, +bouncing against her feet, and frightening her so much that she nearly +tumbled down. + +"See what nonsense it is to talk of Brownies living in a coal-cellar. +Nothing lives there but rats, and I'll have them poisoned pretty soon, +and get rid of them." + +But she was rather frightened all the same, for the rat had been such a +very big rat, and had looked at her, as it darted past, with such wild, +bright, mischievous eyes--brown eyes, of course--that she all but jumped +with surprise. + +However, she had got her lump of coal, and was wheeling it quietly away, +nobody seeing, to her cottage at the bottom of the garden. She was a +hard-worked woman, and her husband's illness made things harder for her. +Still, she was not quite easy at taking what did not belong to her. + +"I don't suppose any body will miss the coal," she repeated. "I dare say +the mistress would have given it to me if I had asked her; and as for +its being the Brownie's lump--fudge! Bless us! what's that?" + +For the barrow began to creak dreadfully, and every creak sounded like +the cry of a child, just as if the wheel were going over its leg and +crushing its poor little bones. + +"What a horrid noise! I must grease the barrow. If only I knew where +they keep the grease-box. All goes wrong, now my old man's laid up. Oh, +dear! oh dear!" + +For suddenly the barrow had tilted over, though there was not a single +stone near, and the big coal was tumbled on to the ground, where it +broke into a thousand pieces. Gathering it up again was hopeless, and it +made such a mess on the gravel-walk, that the old woman was thankful her +misfortune happened behind the privet hedge, where nobody was likely to +come. + +"I'll take a broom and sweep it up to-morrow. Nobody goes near the +orchard now, except me when I hang out the clothes; so I need say +nothing about it to the old man or any body. But ah! deary me, what a +beautiful lot of coal I've lost!" + +She stood and looked at it mournfully, and then went into her cottage, +where she found two or three of the little children keeping Gardener +company. They did not dislike to do this now; but he was so much kinder +than he used to be--so quiet and patient, though he suffered very much. +And he had never once reproached them for what they always +remembered--how it was ever since he was on the ice with them that he +had got the rheumatism. + +[Illustration: Suddenly the barrow had tilted over.] + +So, one or other of them made a point of going to see him every day, and +telling him all the funny things they could think of--indeed, it was a +contest among them who should first make Gardener laugh. They did not +succeed in doing that exactly; but they managed to make him smile; and +he was always gentle and grateful to them; so that they sometimes +thought it was rather nice his being ill. + +But his wife was not pleasant; she grumbled all day long, and snapped at +him and his visitors; being especially snappish this day, because she +had lost her big coal. + +"I can't have you children come bothering here," said she, crossly. "I +want to wring out my clothes, and hang them to dry. Be off with you!" + +"Let us stop a little--just to tell Gardener this one curious thing +about Dolly and the pig--and then we'll help you to take your clothes to +the orchard; we can carry your basket between us--we can, indeed." + +That was the last thing the woman wished; for she knew the that the +children would be sure to see the mess on the gravel-walk--and they +were such inquisitive children--they noticed every thing. They would +want to know all about it, and how the bits of coal came there. It was +very a awkward position. But people who take other people's property +often do find themselves in awkward positions. + +"Thank you, young gentlemen," said she, quite politely; "but indeed the +basket is too heavy for you. However, you may stop and gossip a little +longer with my old man. He likes it." + +And, while they were shut up with Gardener in his bedroom, off she went, +carrying the basket on her head, and hung her clothes carefully out--the +big things on lines between the fruit trees, and the little things, such +as stockings and pocket handkerchiefs, stuck on the gooseberry-bushes, +or spread upon the clean green grass. + +"Such a fine day as it is! they'll dry directly," said she, cheerfully, +to herself. "Plenty of sun, and not a breath of wind to blow them about. +I'll leave them for an hour or two, and come and fetch them in before it +grows dark. Then I shall get all my folding done by bedtime, and have a +clear day for ironing to-morrow." + +But when she did fetch them in, having bundled them all together in the +dusk of the evening, never was such a sight as those clothes! They were +all twisted in the oddest way--the stockings turned inside out, with the +heels and toes tucked into the legs; the sleeves of the shirts tied +together in double knots, the pocket-handkerchiefs made into round +balls, so tight that if you had pelted a person with them they would +have given very hard blows indeed. And the whole looked as if, instead +of lying quietly on the grass and bushes, they had been dragged through +heaps of mud and then stamped upon, so that there was not a clean inch +upon them from end to end. + +"What a horrid mess!" cried the Gardener's wife, who had been at first +very angry, and then very frightened. "But I know what it is; that nasty +Boxer has got loose again. It's he that has done it." + +"Boxer wouldn't tie shirt-sleeves in double knots, or make balls of +pocket-handkerchiefs," Gardener was heard to answer, solemnly. + +"Then it's those horrid children; they are always up to some mischief or +other--just let me catch them!" + +"You'd better not," said somebody in a voice exactly like Gardener's, +though he himself declared he had not spoken a word. Indeed, he was fast +asleep. + +"Well, it's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of," the +Gardener's wife said, supposing she was talking to her husband all the +time; but soon she held her tongue, for she found here and there among +the clothes all sorts of queer marks--marks of fingers, and toes, and +heels, not in mud at all, but in coal-dust, as black as black could be. + +Now, as the place where the big coal had tumbled out of the barrow was +fully fifty yards from the orchard, and, as the coal could not come to +the clothes, and the clothes could not go without hands, the only +conclusion she could arrive at was--well, no particular conclusion at +all! + +It was too late that night to begin washing again; besides, she was +extremely tired, and her husband woke up rather worse than usual, so she +just bundled the clothes up anyhow in a corner, put the kitchen to +rights, and went mournfully to bed. + +Next morning she got up long before it was light, washed her clothes +through all over again, and, it being impossible to dry them by the +fire, went out with them once more, and began spreading them out in +their usual corner, in a hopeless and melancholy manner. While she was +at it, the little folks came trooping around her. She didn't scold them +this time, she was too low-spirited. + +"No! my old man isn't any better, and I don't fancy he ever will be," +said she, in answer to their questions. "And every thing's going wrong +with us--just listen!" And she told the trick which had been played her +about the clothes. + +The little people tried not to laugh, but it was so funny; and even now, +the minute she had done hanging them out, there was something so droll +in the way the clothes blew about, without any wind; the shirts hanging +with their necks downward, as if there was a man inside them; and the +drawers standing stiffly astride on the gooseberry-bushes, for all the +world as if they held a pair of legs still. As for Gardener's +night-caps--long, white cotton, with a tassel at the top--they were +alarming to look at; just like a head stuck on the top of a pole. + +The whole thing was so peculiar, and the old woman so comical in her +despair, that the children, after trying hard to keep it in, at last +broke into shouts of laughter. She turned furiously upon them. + +"It was you who did it!" + +"No, indeed it wasn't!" said they, jumping farther to escape her blows. +For she had got one of her clothes-props, and was laying about her in +the most reckless manner. However, she hurt nobody, and then she +suddenly burst out, not laughing, but crying. + +"It's a cruel thing, whoever has done it, to play such tricks on a poor +old body like me, with a sick husband that she works hard for, and not a +child to help her. But I don't care. I'll wash my clothes again, if it's +twenty times over, and I'll hang them out again in the very place, just +to make you all ashamed of yourselves." + +Perhaps the little people were ashamed of themselves, though they really +had not done the mischief. But they knew quite well who had done it, and +more than once they were about to tell; only they were afraid, if they +did so, they should vex the Brownie so much that he would never come and +play with them any more. + +So they looked at one another without speaking, and when the Gardener's +wife had emptied her basket and dried her eyes, they said to her, very +kindly: + +"Perhaps no harm may come to your clothes this time. We'll sit and watch +them till they are dry." + +"Just as you like; I don't care. Them that hides can find, and them that +plays tricks knows how to stop 'em." + +It was not a civil speech, but then things were hard for the poor old +woman. She had been awake nearly all night, and up washing at daybreak; +her eyes were red with crying, and her steps weary and slow. The little +children felt quite sorry for her, and, instead of going to play, sat +watching the clothes as patiently as possible. + +Nothing came near them. Sometimes, as before, the things seemed to dance +about without hands, and turn into odd shapes, as if there were people +inside them; but not a creature was seen and not a sound was heard. And +though there was neither wind nor sun, very soon all the linen was +perfectly dry. + +"Fetch one of mother's baskets, and we'll fold it up as tidily as +possible--that is, the girls can do it, it's their business--and we boys +will carry it safe to Gardener's cottage." + +So said they, not liking to say that they could not trust it out of +their sight for fear of Brownie, whom, indeed, they were expecting to +see peer round from every bush. They began to have a secret fear that +he was rather a naughty Brownie; but then, as the eldest little girl +whispered, "He was only a Brownie, and knew no better." Now they were +growing quite big children, who would be men and women some time; when +they hoped they would never do any thing wrong. (Their parents hoped the +same, but doubted it.) + +In a serious and careful manner they folded up the clothes, and laid +them one by one in the basket without any mischief, until, just as the +two biggest boys were lifting their burden to carry it away, they felt +something tugging at it from underneath. + +"Halloo! Where are you taking all this rubbish? Better give it to me." + +"No, if you please," said they, very civilly, not to offend the little +brown man. "We'll not trouble you, thanks! We'd rather do it ourselves; +for poor Gardener is very ill, and his wife is very miserable, and we +are extremely sorry for them both." + +"Extremely sorry!" cried Brownie, throwing up his cap in the air, and +tumbling head over heels in an excited manner. "What in the world does +extremely sorry mean?" + +The children could not explain, especially to a Brownie; but they +thought they understood--anyhow, they felt it. And they looked so +sorrowful that the Brownie could not tell what to make of it. + +He could not be said to be sorry, since, being a Brownie, and not a +human being, knowing right from wrong, he never tried particularly to do +right, and had no idea that he was doing wrong. But he seemed to have an +idea that he was troubling the children, and he never liked to see them +look unhappy. + +So he turned head over heels six times running, and then came back +again. + +"The silly old woman! I washed her clothes for her last night in a way +she didn't expect. I hadn't any soap, so I used a little mud and +coal-dust, and very pretty they looked. Ha, ha, ha! Shall I wash them +over again to-night?" + +"Oh, no, please don't!" implored the children. + +"Shall I starch and iron them? I'll do it beautifully. One--two--three, +five--six--seven, Abracadabra, tum--tum--ti!" shouted he, jabbering all +sorts of nonsense, as it seemed to the children, and playing such antics +that they stood and stared in the utmost amazement, and quite forgot the +clothes. When they looked round again, the basket was gone. + + "Seek till you find, seek till you find, + Under the biggest gooseberry-bush, exactly to your mind." + +They heard him singing this remarkable rhyme, long after they had lost +sight of him. And then they all set about searching; but it was a long +while before they found, and still longer before they could decide, +which was the biggest gooseberry-bush, each child having his or her +opinion--sometimes a very strong one--on the matter. At last they agreed +to settle it by pulling half-a-dozen little sticks, to see which stick +was the longest, and the child that held it was to decide the +gooseberry-bush. + +This done, underneath the branches what should they find but the +identical basket of clothes! only, instead of being roughly dried, they +were all starched and ironed in the most beautiful manner. As for the +shirts, they really were a picture to behold, and the stockings were all +folded up, and even darned in one or two places, as neatly as possible. +And strange to tell, there was not a single black mark of feet or +fingers on any one of them. + +"Kind little Brownie! clever little Brownie!" cried the children in +chorus, and thought this was the most astonishing trick he had ever +played. + +What the Gardener's wife said about it, whether they told her any thing, +or allowed her to suppose that the clothes had been done in their own +laundry instead of the Brownie's (wherever that establishment might be), +is more than I can tell. Of one thing only I am certain--that the little +people said nothing but what was true. Also, that the very minute they +got home they told their mother every thing. + +But for a long time after that they were a good deal troubled. Gardener +got better, and went hobbling about the place again, to his own and +every body's great content, and his wife was less sharp-tongued and +complaining than usual--indeed, she had nothing to complain of. All the +family were very flourishing, except the little Brownie. + +Often there was heard a curious sound all over the house; it might have +been rats squeaking behind the wainscot--the elders said it was--but the +children were sure it was a sort of weeping and wailing. + + "They've stolen my coal, + And I haven't a hole + To hide in; + Not even a house + One could ask a mouse + To bide in." + +A most forlorn tune it was, ending in a dreary minor key, and it lasted +for months and months--at least the children said it did. And they were +growing quite dull for want of a playfellow, when, by the greatest good +luck in the world, there came to the house not only a new lot of +kittens, but a new baby. And the new baby was everybody's pet, including +the Brownie's. + +[Illustration: The new baby was everybody's pet.--Page 87] + +From that time, though he was not often seen, he was continually heard +up and down the staircase, where he was frequently mistaken for Tiny or +the cat, and sent sharply down again, which was wasting a great deal of +wholesome anger upon Mr. Nobody. Or he lurked in odd corners of the +nursery, whither the baby was seen crawling eagerly after nothing in +particular, or sitting laughing with all her might at something--probably +her own toes. + +But, as Brownie was never seen, he was never suspected. And since he did +no mischief--neither pinched the baby nor broke the toys, left no soap +in the bath and no footmarks about the room--but was always a +well-conducted Brownie in every way, he was allowed to inhabit the +nursery (or supposed to do so, since, as nobody saw him, nobody could +prevent him), until the children were grown up into men and women. + +After that he retired into his coal-cellar, and, for all I know, he may +live there still, and have gone through hundreds of adventures since; +but as I never heard them, I can't tell them. Only I think, if I could +be a little child again, I should exceedingly like a Brownie to play +with me. Should not you? + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration: Some Poems For Children + +By Miss Mulock] + + +THE BLACKBIRD AND THE ROOKS. + + A SLENDER young Blackbird built in a thorn-tree + A spruce little fellow as ever could be; + His bill was so yellow, his feathers so black, + So long was his tail, and so glossy his back, + That good Mrs. B., who sat hatching her eggs, + And only just left them to stretch her poor legs, + And pick for a minute the worm she preferred, + Thought there never was seen such a beautiful bird. + + And such a kind husband! how early and late + He would sit at the top of the old garden gate, + And sing, just as merry as if it were June, + Being ne'er out of patience, or temper, or tune. + "So unlike those Rooks, dear; from morning till night + They seem to do nothing but quarrel and fight, + And wrangle and jangle, and plunder--while we + Sit, honest and safe, in our pretty thorn-tree." + + Just while she was speaking, a lively young Rook + Alit with a flap that the thorn-bush quite shook, + And seizing a stick from the nest--"Come, I say, + That will just suit me, neighbor"--flew with it away + The lady loud twittered--her husband soon heard: + Though peaceful, he was not a cowardly bird; + And with arguments angry enough to o'erwhelm + A whole Rookery--flew to the top of the elm. + + "How dare you, you--" (thief he was going to say; + But a civiller sentiment came in the way: + For he knew 'tis no good, and it anyhow shames + A gentleman, calling strange gentlemen names:) + "Pray what is your motive, Sir Rook, for such tricks, + As building your mansion with other folks' sticks? + I request you'll restore them, in justice and law." + At which the whole colony set up a--caw! + + But Blackbird, not silenced, then spoke out again; + "I've built my small nest with much labor and pain. + I'm a poor singing gentleman, Sirs, it is true, + Though cockneys do often mistake me for you; + But I keep Mrs. Blackbird, and four little eggs, + And neither e'er pilfers, or borrows, or begs. + Now have I not right on my side, do you see?" + But they flew at and pecked him all down the elm-tree. + + Ah! wickedness prospers sometimes, I much fear; + And virtue's not always victorious, that's clear: + At least, not at first: for it must be confessed + Poor Blackbird lost many a stick from his nest; + And his unkind grand neighbors with scoffing caw-caws, + In his voice and his character found many flaws, + And jeered him and mocked him; but when they'd all done, + He flew to his tree and sang cheerily on. + + At length May arrived with her garlands of leaves; + The swallows were building beneath the farm-eaves, + Wrens, linnets, and sparrows, on every hedge-side, + Were bringing their families out with great pride; + While far above all, on the tallest tree-top, + With a flutter and clamor that never did stop, + The haughty old Rooks held their heads up so high, + And dreamed not of trouble--until it drew nigh! + + One morning at seven, as he came with delight + To his wife's pretty parlor of may-blossoms white, + Having fed all his family ere rise of sun,-- + Mr. Blackbird perceived--a big man with a gun; + Who also perceived him: "See, Charlie, among + That may, sits the Blackbird we've heard for so long: + Most likely his nest's there--how frightened he looks! + Nay, Blackie, we're not come for you, but the Rooks." + + I don't say 'twas cruel--I can't say 'twas kind-- + On the subject I haven't quite made up my mind: + But those guns went pop-popping all morning, alas! + And young Rooks kept dropping among the long grass, + Till good Mr. Blackbird, who watched the whole thing, + For pity could scarcely a single note sing, + And in the May sunset he hardly could bear + To hear the returning Rooks' caw of despair. + + "O, dear Mrs. Blackbird," at last warbled he, + "How happy we are in our humble thorn-tree; + How gaily we live, living honest and poor, + How sweet are the may-blossoms over our door." + "And then our dear children," the mother replied, + And she nested them close to her warm feathered side, + And with a soft twitter of drowsy content, + In the quiet May moonlight to sleep they all went. + + + +THE SHAKING OF THE PEAR-TREE + + OF all days I remember, + In summers passed away, + Was "the shaking of the pear-tree," + In grandma's orchard gay. + + A large old-fashioned orchard, + With long grass under foot, + And blackberry-brambles crawling + In many a tangled shoot. + + From cherry time, till damsons + Dropped from the branches sere, + That wonderful old orchard + Was full of fruit all year; + + We pick'd it up in baskets, + Or pluck'd it from the wall; + But the shaking of the pear-tree + Was the grandest treat of all. + + Long, long the days we counted + Until that day drew nigh; + Then, how we watched the sun set, + And criticised the sky! + + If rain--"'Twill clear at midnight;" + If dawn broke chill and gray, + "O many a cloudy morning + Turns out a lovely day." + + So off we started gaily, + Heedless of jolt or jar; + Through town and lane, and hamlet, + In old Llewellyn's car. + + He's dead and gone--Llewellyn, + These twenty years, I doubt: + If I put him in this poem, + He'll never find it out, + + The patient, kind Llewellyn-- + Whose broad face smiled all o'er, + As he lifted out us children + At grandma's very door. + + And there stood Grandma's Betty, + With cheeks like apples red; + And Dash, the spaniel, waddled + Out of his cosy bed. + + With silky ears down dropping, + And coat of chestnut pale; + He was so fat and lazy + He scarce could wag his tail. + + Poor Dash is dead, and buried + Under the lilac-tree; + And Betty's old,--as, children, + We all may one day be. + + I hope no child will vex us, + As we vexed Betty then, + With winding up the draw-well, + Or hunting the old hen. + + And teasing, teasing, teasing, + Till afternoon wore round, + And shaken pears came tumbling + In showers upon the ground. + + O how we jumped and shouted! + O how we plunged amid + The long grass, where the treasures, + Dropped down and deftly hid; + + Long, slender-shaped, red-russet, + Or yellow just like gold; + Ah! never pears have tasted + Like those sweet pears of old! + + We ate--I'd best not mention + How many: paused to fill + Big basket after basket; + Working with right good-will; + + Then hunted round the orchard + For half-ripe plums--in vain; + So, back unto the pear-tree, + To eat, and eat again. + + I'm not on my confession, + And therefore need not say + How tired, and cross, and sleepy, + Some were ere close of day; + + For pleasure has its ending, + And eke its troubles too; + Which you'll find out, my children, + As well as we could do. + + But yet this very minute, + I seem to see it all-- + The pear-tree's empty branches + The gray of evening-fall; + + The children's homeward silence, + The furnace fires that glowed, + Each mile or so, out streaming + Across the lonely road; + + And high, high set in heaven, + One large bright, beauteous star, + That shone between the curtains + Of old Llewellyn's car. + + +THE WONDERFUL APPLE-TREE.[A] + + COME here, my dear boys, and I'll tell you a fable, + Which you may believe as much as you're able; + It isn't all true, nor all false, I'll be bound-- + Of the tree that bears apples all the year round. + + There was a Dean Tucker of Gloster city, + Who may have been wise, or worthy, or witty; + But I know nothing of him, the more's the pity, + Save that he was Dean Tucker of Gloster city. + + And walking one day with a musing air + In his Deanery garden, close by where + The great cathedral's west window's seen,-- + "I'll plant an apple," said Tucker the Dean. + + The apple was planted, the apple grew, + A stout young tree, full of leaves not few; + The apple was grafted, the apple bore + Of goodly apples, one, two, three, four. + + The old Dean walked in his garden fair, + "I'm glad I planted that young tree there, + Though it was but a shoot, or some old tree's sucker; + I'll taste it to-morrow," said good Dean Tucker. + + But lo, in the night when (they say) trees talk, + And some of the liveliest get up and walk, + With fairies abroad for watch and warden-- + There was such a commotion in the Dean's garden! + + "I will not be gathered," the apple-tree said, + "Was it for this I blossomed so red? + Hung out my fruit all the summer days, + Got so much sunshine, and pleasure and praise?" + + "Ah!" interrupted a solemn red plum, + "This is the end to which all of us come; + Last month I was laden with hundreds--but now"-- + And he sighed the last little plum off from his bough. + + "Nay, friend, take it easy," the pear-tree replied + (A lady-like person against the wall-side). + "Man guards, nurtures, trains us from top down to root: + I think 'tis but fair we should give him our fruit." + + "No, I'll not be gathered," the apple resumed, + And shook his young branches, and fluttered and fumed; + "And I'll not drop neither, as some of you drop, + Over-ripe: I'm determined to keep my whole crop. + + "And I with"--O'er his branches just then _something_ flew; + It seemed like moth, large and grayish of hue. + But it was a Fairy. Her voice soft did sound, + "Be the tree that bears apples all the year round." + + * * * * * + + The Dean to his apple-tree, came, full of hope, + But tough was the fruit-stalk as double-twist rope, + And when he had cut it with patience and pain, + He bit just one mouthful--and never again. + + "An apple so tasteless, so juiceless, so hard, + Is, sure, good for nought but to bowl in the yard; + The choir-boys may have it." But choir-boys soon found + It was worthless--the tree that bore all the year round. + + And Gloster lads climbing the Deanery wall + Were punished, as well might all young thieves appal, + For, clutching the booty for which they did sin, + They bit at the apples--and left their teeth in! + + And thus all the year from October till May, + From May till October, the apples shone gay; + But 'twas just outside glitter, for no hand was found + To pluck at the fruit which hung all the year round. + + And so till they rotted, those queer apples hung, + The bare boughs and blossoms and ripe fruit among + And in Gloster city it still may be found-- + The tree that bears apples all the year round. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[A] This tree, known among gardeners by the name of "Winter-hanger" or +"Forbidden Fruit," was planted by Dean Tucker in 1760. It, or an off +shoot from it, still exists in the city of Gloucester. + + +THE JEALOUS BOY + + WHAT, my little foolish Ned, + Think you mother's eyes are blind, + That her heart has grown unkind, + And she will not turn her head, + Cannot see, for all her joy, + Her poor jealous little boy? + + What though sister be the pet-- + Laughs, and leaps, and clings, and loves, + With her eyes as soft as dove's-- + Why should yours with tears be wet? + Why such angry tears let fall? + Mother's heart has room for all. + + Mother's heart is very wide, + And its doors all open stand: + Lightest touch of tiniest hand + She will never put aside. + Why her happiness destroy, + Foolish, naughty, jealous boy? + + Come within the circle bright, + Where we laugh, and dance, and sing, + Full of love to everything; + As God loves us, day and night, + And _forgives_ us. Come--with joy + Mother too forgives her boy. + + +THE STORY OF THE BIRKENHEAD + +TOLD TO TWO CHILDREN + + AND so you want a fairy tale, + My little maidens twain? + Well, sit beside the waterfall, + Noisy with last night's rain; + + On couch of moss, with elfin spears + Bristling, all fierce to see, + When from the yet brown moor down drops + The lonely April bee. + + All the wide valley blushes green, + While, in far depths below, + Wharfe flashes out a great bright eye, + Then hides his shining flow;-- + + Wharfe, busy, restless, rapid Wharfe, + The glory of our dale; + O I could of the River Wharfe + Tell such a fairy tale! + + "The Boy of Egremond," you cry,-- + "And all the 'bootless bene:' + We know that poem, every word, + And we the Strid have seen." + + No, clever damsels: though the tale + Seems still to bear a part, + In every lave of Wharfe's bright wave, + The broken mother's heart-- + + Little you know of broken hearts, + My Kitty, blithe and wise, + Grave Mary, with the woman soul + Dawning through childish eyes. + + And long, long distant may God keep + The day when each shall know + The entrance to His kingdom through + His baptism of woe! + + But yet 'tis good to hear of grief + Which He permits to be; + Even as in our green inland home + We talk of wrecks at sea. + + So on this lovely day, when spring + Wakes soft o'er moor and dale, + I'll tell--not quite your wish--but yet + A noble "fairy" tale. + + * * * * * + + 'Twas six o'clock in the morning, + The sea like crystal lay, + When the good troop-ship Birkenhead + Set sail from Simon's Bay. + + The Cape of Good Hope on her right + Gloomed at her through the noon: + Brief tropic twilight fled, and night + Fell suddenly and soon. + + At eight o'clock in the evening + Dim grew the pleasant land; + O'er smoothest seas the southern heaven + Its starry arch out-spanned. + + The soldiers on the bulwarks leaned, + Smoked, chatted; and below + The soldiers' wives sang babes to sleep, + While on the ship sailed slow. + + Six hundred and thirty souls held she, + Good, bad, old, young, rich, poor; + Six hundred and thirty living souls-- + God knew them all.--Secure + + He counted them in His right hand, + That held the hungering seas; + And to four hundred came a voice-- + "The Master hath need of these." + + * * * * * + + On, onward, still the vessel went + Till, with a sudden shock, + Like one that's clutched by unseen Death, + She struck upon a rock. + + She filled. Not hours, not minutes left; + Each second a life's gone: + Drowned in their berths, washed overboard, + Lost, swimming, one by one; + + Till, o'er this chaos of despair + Rose, like celestial breath, + The law of order, discipline, + Obedience unto death. + + The soldiers mustered upon deck, + As mute as on parade; + "Women and children to the boats!" + And not a man gainsayed. + + Without a murmur or a moan + They stood, formed rank and file, + Between the dreadful crystal seas + And the sky's dreadful smile. + + In face of death they did their work + As they in life would do, + Embarking at a quiet quay-- + A quiet, silent crew. + + "Now each man for himself. To the boats!" + Arose a passing cry. + The soldier-captain answered, "Swamp + The women and babes?--No, die!" + + And so they died. Each in his place, + Obedient to command, + They went down with the sinking ship, + Went down in sight of land. + + The great sea oped her mouth, and closed + O'er them. Awhile they trod + The valley of the shadow of death, + And then were safe with God. + + * * * * * + + My little girlies--What! your tears + Are dropping on the grass, + Over my more than "fairy" tale, + A tale that "really was!" + + Nay, dry them. If we could but see + The joy in angels' eyes + O'er good lives, or heroic deaths + Of pure self-sacrifice,-- + + We should not weep o'er these that sleep-- + Their short, sharp struggle o'er-- + Under the rolling waves that break + Upon the Afric shore. + + God works not as man works, nor sees + As man sees: though we mark + Ofttimes the moving of His hands + Beneath the eternal Dark. + + But yet we know that all is well + That He, who loved all these, + Loves children laughing on the moor, + Birds singing in the trees; + + That He who made both life and death, + He knoweth which is best: + We live to Him, we die to Him, + And leave Him all the rest. + + +BIRDS IN THE SNOW + + +CHILD + + I WISH I were a little bird + When the sun shines + And the wind whispers low, + Through the tall pines, + I'd rock in the elm tops, + Rifle the pear-tree, + Hide in the cherry boughs, + O such a rare tree! + + I wish I were a little bird; + All summer long + I'd fly so merrily + Sing such a song! + Song that should never cease + While daylight lasted, + Wings that should never tire + Howe'er they hasted. + + +MOTHER + + But if you were a little bird-- + My baby-blossom. + Nestling so cosily + In mother's bosom,-- + A bird, as we see them now, + When the snows harden, + And the wind's blighting breath + Howls round the garden: + + What would you do, poor bird, + In winter drear? + No nest to creep into, + No mother near: + Hungry and desolate, + Weary and woeful, + All the earth bound with frost, + All the sky snow-full? + + +CHILD (_thoughtfully_). + + That would be sad, and yet + Hear what I'd do-- + Mother, in winter time + I'd come to you! + If you can like the birds + Spite of their thieving, + Give them your trees to build, + Garden to live in, + + I think if I were a bird + When winter comes + I'd trust you, mother dear, + For a few crumbs, + Whether I sang or not, + Were lark, thrush, or starling.-- + + +MOTHER (_aside_). + + Then--Father--I trust _Thee_ + With this my darling. + + +THE LITTLE COMFORTER + + "WHAT is wrong with my big brother?" + Says the child; + For they two had got no mother + And she loved him like no other: + If he smiled, + All the world seemed bright and gay + To this happy little May. + + If to her he sharply spoke, + This big brother-- + Then her tender heart nigh broke; + But the cruel pain that woke, + She would smother-- + As a little woman can;-- + Was he not almost a man? + + But when trouble or disgrace + Smote the boy, + She would lift her gentle face-- + Surely 'twas her own right place. + To bring joy? + For she loved him--loved him so! + Whether he was good or no + + May be he will never feel + Half her love; + Wound her, and forget to heal: + Idle words are sharp as steel: + But above, + I know what the angels say + Of this silent little May. + + +DON'T BE AFRAID. + + DON'T be afraid of the dark, + My daughter, dear as my soul! + You see but a part of the gloomy world, + But I--I have seen the whole, + And I know each step of the fearsome way, + Till the shadows brighten to open day. + + Don't be afraid of pain, + My tender little child: + When its smart is worst there comes strength to bear, + And it seems as if angels smiled,-- + As I smile, dear, when I hurt you now. + In binding up that wound on your brow. + + Don't be afraid of grief, + 'Twill come--as night follows day, + But the bleakest sky has tiny rifts + When the stars shine through--as to say + Wait, wait a little--till night is o'er + And beautiful day come back once more. + + O child, be afraid of sin, + But have no other fear, + For God's in the dark, as well as the light; + And while we can feel Him near, + His hand that He gives, His love that He gave, + Lead safely, even to the dark of the grave. + + +GIRL AND BOY + + ALFRED is gentle as a girl, + But Judith longs to be a boy! + Would cut off every pretty curl + With eager joy! + + Hates to be called "my dear"--or kissed: + For dollies does not care one fig: + Goes, sticking hands up to the wrist + In jackets big. + + Would like to do whate'er boy can; + Play cricket--even to go school: + It is so grand to be a man! + A girl's a fool! + + But Alfred smiles superior love + On all these innocent vagaries. + He'd hate a goose! but yet a dove + Ah, much more rare is! + + She's anything but dove, good sooth! + But she's his dear and only sister: + And, had she been a boy, in truth + How he'd have missed her. + + So, gradually her folly dies, + And she'll consent to be just human, + When there shines out of girlish eyes + The real Woman. + + +AGNES AT PRAYER + + "OUR Father which art in heaven," + Little Agnes prays, + Though her kneeling is but show, + Though she is too young to know + All, or half she says. + God will hear her, Agnes mild, + God will love the innocent child. + + "Our Father which art in heaven." + She has a father here, + Does she think of his kind eyes, + Tones that ne'er in anger rise-- + "Yes, dear," or "No, dear." + They will haunt her whole life long + Like a sweet pathetic song. + + "Our Father which art in heaven," + Through thy peaceful prayer, + Think of the known father's face, + Of his bosom, happy place; + Safely sheltered there; + And so blessed--long may He bless! + Think too of the fatherless. + + +GOING TO WORK + + COME along for the work is ready-- + Rough it may be, rough, tough and hard-- + But--fourteen years old--stout, strong and steady, + Life's game's beginning, lad!--play your card-- + Come along. + + Mother stands at the door-step crying + Well but she has a brave heart too: + She'll try to be glad--there's nought like trying, + She's proud of having a son like you. + Come along. + + Young as she is, her hair is whitening, + She has ploughed thro' years of sorrow deep, + She looks at her boy, and her eyes are brightening, + Shame if ever you make them weep! + Come along. + + Bravo! See how the brown cheek flushes! + Ready to work as hard as you can? + I have always faith in a boy that blushes, + None will blush for him, when he's a man. + Come along. + + +THREE COMPANIONS + + WE go on our way together, + Baby, and dog, and I; + Three merry companions, + 'Neath any sort of sky; + Blue as her pretty eyes are, + Or gray, like his dear old tail; + Be it windy, or cloudy, or stormy, + Our courage does never fail. + + Sometimes the snow lies thickly, + Under the hedge-row bleak; + Then baby cries "Pretty, pretty," + The only word she can speak. + Sometimes two rivers of water + Run down the muddy lane; + Then dog leaps backwards and forwards + Barking with might and main. + + Baby's a little lady, + Dog is a gentleman brave: + If he had two legs as you have + He'd kneel to her like a slave; + As it is he loves and protects her, + As dog and gentleman can; + I'd rather be a kind doggie + I think, than a brute of a man. + + +THE MOTHERLESS CHILD + + SHE was going home down the lonely street, + A widow-woman with weary feet + And weary eyes that seldom smiled: + She had neither mother, sister, nor child. + She earned her bread with a patient heart, + And ate it quietly and apart, + In her silent home from day to day, + No one to say her "ay," or "nay." + + She was going home without care to haste; + What should she haste for? On she paced + Through the snowy night so bleak and wild, + When she thought she heard the cry of a child, + A feeble cry, not of hunger or pain, + But just of sorrow. It came again. + She stopped--she listened--she almost smiled-- + "That sounds like a wail of a motherless child." + + A house stood open--no soul was there-- + Her dull, tired feet grew light on the stair; + She mounted--entered. One bed on the floor, + And Something in it: and close by the door, + Watching the stark form, stretched out still, + Ignorant knowing not good nor ill, + But only a want and a misery wild, + Crouched the dead mother's motherless child. + + What next? Come say what would you have done + Dear children playing about in the sun, + Or sitting by pleasant fireside warm, + Hearing outside the howling storm? + The widow went in and she shut the door, + She stayed by the dead an hour or more-- + And when she went home through the night so wild, + She had in her arms a sleeping child. + + Now she is old and feeble and dull, + But her empty heart is happy and full + If her crust be hard and her cottage poor + There's a young foot tripping across the floor, + Young hands to help her that never tire, + And a young voice singing beside the fire; + And her tired eyes look as if they smiled,-- + Childless mother and motherless child. + + +THE WREN'S NEST + + I TOOK the wren's nest;-- + Heaven forgive me! + Its merry architects so small + Had scarcely finished their wee hall, + That empty still and neat and fair + Hung idly in the summer air. + The mossy walls, the dainty door, + Where Love should enter and explore, + And Love sit caroling outside, + And Love within chirp multiplied;-- + I took the wren's nest;-- + Heaven forgive me! + + How many hours of happy pains + Through early frosts and April rains, + How many songs at eve and morn + O'er springing grass and greening corn, + Before the pretty house was made! + One little minute, only one, + And she'll fly back, and find it--gone! + I took the wren's nest;-- + Bird, forgive me! + + Thou and thy mate, sans let, sans fear, + Ye have before you all the year, + And every wood holds nooks for you, + In which to sing and build and woo + One piteous cry of birdish pain-- + And ye'll begin your life again, + Forgetting quite the lost, lost home + In many a busy home to come-- + But I?--Your wee house keep I must + Until it crumble into dust. + I took the wren's nest: + God forgive me! + + +A CHILD'S SMILE + + A CHILD'S smile--nothing more; + Quiet and soft and grave, and seldom seen, + Like summer lightning o'er, + Leaving the little face again serene. + + I think, boy well-beloved, + Thine angel, who did grieve to see how far + Thy childhood is removed + From sports that dear to other children are, + + On this pale cheek has thrown + The brightness of his countenance, and made + A beauty like his own-- + That, while we see it, we are half afraid, + + And marvel, will it stay? + Or, long ere manhood, will that angel fair, + Departing some sad day, + Steal the child-smile and leave the shadow care? + + Nay, fear not. As is given + Unto this child the father watching o'er, + His angel up in heaven + Beholds Our Father's face for evermore. + + And he will help him bear + His burthen, as his father helps him now; + So he may come to wear + That happy child-smile on an old man's brow. + + +OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY + + A LITTLE bird flew my window by, + 'Twixt the level street and the level sky, + The level rows of houses tall, + The long low sun on the level wall + And all that the little bird did say + Was, "Over the hills and far away." + + A little bird sang behind my chair, + From the level line of corn-fields fair, + The smooth green hedgerow's level bound + Not a furlong off--the horizon's bound, + And the level lawn where the sun all day + Burns:--"Over the hills and far away." + + A little bird sings above my bed, + And I know if I could but lift my head + I would see the sun set, round and grand, + Upon level sea and level sand, + While beyond the misty distance gray + Is "Over the hills and far away." + + I think that a little bird will sing + Over a grassy mound, next spring, + Where something that once was _me_, ye'll leave + In the level sunshine, morn and eve: + But I shall be gone, past night, past day, + Over the hills and far away. + + +THE TWO RAINDROPS + + SAID a drop to a drop, "Just look at me! + I'm the finest rain-drop you ever did see: + I have lived ten seconds at least on my pane; + Swelling and filling and swelling again. + + "All the little rain-drops unto me run, + I watch them and catch them and suck them up each one: + All the pretty children stand and at me stare; + Pointing with their fingers--'That's the biggest drop there.'" + + "Yet you are but a drop," the small drop replied; + "I don't myself see much cause for pride: + The bigger you swell up,--we know well, my friend,-- + The faster you run down the sooner you'll end. + + "For me, I'm contented outside on my ledge, + Hearing the patter of rain in the hedge; + Looking at the firelight and the children fair,-- + Whether they look at me, I'm sure I don't care." + + "Sir," cried the first drop, "your talk is but dull; + I can't wait to listen, for I'm almost full; + You'll run a race with me?--No?--Then 'tis plain + I am the largest drop in the whole pane." + + Off ran the big drop, at first rather slow: + Then faster and faster, as drops will, you know: + Raced down the window-pane, like hundreds before, + Just reached the window-sill--one splash--and was o'er. + + +THE YEAR'S END + + SO grows the rising year, and so declines + By months, weeks, days, unto its peaceful end + Even as by slow and ever-varying signs + Through childhood, youth, our solemn steps we bend + Up to the crown of life, and thence descend. + + Great Father, who of every one takest care, + From him on whom full ninety years are piled + To the young babe, just taught to lisp a prayer + About the "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild," + Who children loves, being once himself a child,-- + + O make us day by day like Him to grow; + More pure and good, more dutiful and meek; + Because He loves those who obey Him so; + Because His love is the best thing to seek, + Because without His love, all loves are weak,-- + + All earthly joys are miserable and poor, + All earthly goodness quickly droops and dies, + Like rootless flowers you plant in gardens--sure + That they will flourish--till in mid-day skies + The sun burns, and they fade before your eyes. + + O God, who art alone the life and light + Of this strange world to which as babes we come, + Keep Thou us always children in Thy sight: + Guide us from year to year, thro' shine and gloom + And at our year's end, Father, take us home. + + +RUNNING AFTER THE RAINBOW + + "WHY thus aside your playthings throw, + Over the wet lawn hurrying so? + Where are you going, I want to know?" + "I'm running after the rainbow." + + "Little boy, with your bright brown eyes + Full of an innocent surprise, + Stop a minute, my Arthur wise, + What do you want with the rainbow?" + + Arthur paused in his headlong race, + Turned to his mother his hot, young face, + "Mother, I want to reach the place + At either end of the rainbow. + + "Nurse says, wherever it meets the ground. + Such beautiful things may oft be found + Buried below, or scattered round, + If one can but catch the rainbow. + + "O please don't hinder me, mother dear, + It will all be gone while I stay here;" + So with many a hope and not one fear, + The child ran after the rainbow. + + Over the damp grass, ankle deep, + Clambering up the hilly steep, + And the wood where the birds were going to sleep, + But he couldn't catch the rainbow. + + And when he came out at the wood's far side, + The sun was setting in golden pride, + There were plenty of clouds all rainbow dyed, + But not a sign of the rainbow. + + Said Arthur, sobbing, as home he went, + "I wish I had thought what mother meant; + I wish I had only been content, + And not ran after the rainbow." + + And as he came sadly down the hill, + Stood mother scolding--but smiling still, + And hugged him up close, as mothers will: + So he quite forgot the rainbow. + + +DICK AND I + + WE'RE going to a party, my brother Dick and I: + The best, grandest party we ever did try: + And I'm very happy--but Dick is so shy! + + I've got a white ball-dress, and flowers in my hair, + And a scarf, with a brooch too, mamma let me wear: + Silk stockings, and shoes with high heels, I declare! + + There is to be music--a real soldier's band: + And _I_ mean to waltz, and eat ice, and be fanned, + Like a grown-up young lady, the first in the land. + + But Dick is so stupid, so silent and shy: + Has never learnt dancing, so says he won't try-- + Yet Dick is both older and wiser than I. + + And I'm fond of my brother--this darling old Dick: + I'll hunt him in corners wherever he stick, + He's bad at a party--but at school he's a brick! + + So good at his Latin, at cricket, football, + Whatever he tries at. And then he's so tall! + Yet at play with the children he's best of us all. + + And his going to the party is just to please _me_, + Poor Dick! so good-natured. How dull he will be! + But he says I shall dance "like a wave o' the sea." + + That's Shakespeare, his Shakespeare, he worships him so. + Our Dick he writes poems, though none will he show; + I found out his secret, but I won't tell: no, no. + + And when he's a great man, a poet you see, + O dear! what a proud little sister I'll be; + Hark! there comes the carriage. We're off, Dick and me. + + +GRANDPAPA + + GRANDPAPA lives at the end of the lane, + His cottage is small and its furniture plain; + No pony to ride on, no equipage grand,-- + A garden, and just half an acre of land; + No dainties to dine off, and very few toys,-- + Yet is grandpapa's house the delight of the boys. + + Grandpapa once lived in one little room, + Grandpapa worked all day long at his loom: + He speaks with queer accent, does dear grandpapa, + And not half so well as papa and mamma. + The girls think his clothes are a little rough, + But the boys all declare they can't love him enough. + + A man of the people in manners and mind, + Yet so honest, so tender, so clever, so kind: + Makes the best of his lot still, where'er it be cast. + A sturdy old Englishman, game to the last. + Though simple and humble and unknown to fame, + It's good luck to the boys to bear grandpapa's name! + + +MONSIEUR ET MADEMOISELLE. + + DEUX petits enfants Francais, + Monsieur et Mademoiselle. + Of what can they be talking, child? + Indeed I cannot tell. + But of this I am very certain, + You would find naught to blame + In that sweet French politeness-- + I wish we had the same. + + Monsieur has got a melon, + And scoops it with his knife, + While Mademoiselle sits watching him: + No rudeness here--no strife: + Though could you listen only, + They're chattering like two pies-- + French magpies, understand me-- + So merry and so wise. + + Their floor is bare of carpet, + Their curtains are so thin, + They dine on meagre _potage_, and + Put many an onion in! + Her snow-white caps she irons: + He blacks his shoes, he can; + Yet she's a little lady + And he's a gentleman. + + O busy, happy children! + That light French heart of yours, + Would it might sometimes enter at + Our solemn English doors! + Would that we worked as gaily, + And played, yes, played as well, + And lived our lives as simply + As Monsieur et Mademoiselle. + +[Illustration] + + +YOUNG DANDELION + + YOUNG Dandelion + On a hedge-side, + Said young Dandelion, + "Who'll be my bride? + + "I'm a bold fellow + As ever was seen, + With my shield of yellow, + In the grass green. + + "You may uproot me, + From field and from lane, + Trample me, cut me,-- + I spring up again. + + "I never flinch, Sir, + Wherever I dwell; + Give me an inch, Sir. + I'll soon take an ell. + + "Drive me from garden + In anger and pride, + I'll thrive and harden + By the road-side. + + "Not a bit fearful, + Showing my face, + Always so cheerful + In every place." + + Said young Dandelion, + With a sweet air, + "I have my eye on + Miss Daisy fair. + + "Though we may tarry + Till past the cold, + Her I will marry + Ere I grow old. + + "I will protect her + From all kinds of harm, + Feed her with nectar, + Shelter her warm. + + "Whate'er the weather, + Let it go by; + We'll hold together, + Daisy and I. + + "I'll ne'er give in,--no! + Nothing I fear: + All that I win, O! + I'll keep for my dear." + + Said young Dandelion + On his hedge-side, + "Who'll me rely on? + Who'll be my bride?" + + +A SEPTEMBER ROBIN + + MY eyes are full, my silent heart is stirred, + Amid these days so bright + Of ceaseless warmth and light; + Summer that will not die, + Autumn, without one sigh + O'er sweet hours passing by-- + Cometh that tender note + Out of thy tiny throat, + Like grief, or love, insisting to be heard, + O little plaintive bird! + + No need of word + Well know I all your tale--forgotten bird! + Soon you and I together + Must face the winter weather, + Remembering how we sung + Our primrose fields among, + In days when life was young; + Now, all is growing old, + And the warm earth's a-cold, + Still, with brave heart we'll sing on, little bird, + Sing only. Not one word. + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Obvious punctuation errors repaired. + +Text uses both tablecloth and table-cloth. + +Page 8, "tidiness,and" changed to "tidiness, and" (liked tidiness, and) + +Page 12, "agan" changed to "again" (to the table again) + +Page 25, "Gradener" changed to "Gardener" (cried the Gardener) + +Page 29, "shown" changed to "shone" (shone with dew) + +Page 32, "it" changed to "if" (as if the old) + +Page 36, "like" changed to "liked" (liked all young things) + +Page 35, "sate" changed to "state" (a pretty state of) + +Page 49, "it" changed to "if" (as if there was) + +Page 50, "f" changed to "if" (presently, if you) + +Page 57, "altogetherwas" changed to "altogether was" (altogether was +such) + +Page 60, word "a" added to text (it was a bright) + +Page 68, "plaee" changed to "place" (place is bewitched) + +Page 71, illustration, "suddenl" changed to "suddenly" (ice suddenly +broke) + +Page 78, "bakset" changed to "basket" (basket is too heavy) + +Page 78, "bolws" changed to "blows" (very hard blows) + +Page 79, "it" changed to "is" (is; that nasty) + +Page 80, "donwward" changed to "downward" (their necks downward) + +Page 97, "theives" changed to "thieves" (all young thieves) + +Page 99, "fairy a tale" changed to "a fairy tale" (you want a fairy +tale) + +Page 113, "ma n" changed to "main" (with might and main) + +Page 116, "al" changed to "all" (you all the year) + +Page 116, "bui d" changed to "build" (build and woo) + +Page 116, "du t" changed to "dust" (crumble into dust) + +Page 116, "SMIL" changed to "SMILE" (A CHILD'S SMILE) + +Page 120, "hedgegrow's" changed to "hedgerow's" (hedgerow's level bound) + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of A Brownie, by Miss Mulock + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30494 *** |