diff options
Diffstat (limited to '594-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 594-h/594-h.htm | 6094 |
1 files changed, 6094 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/594-h/594-h.htm b/594-h/594-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7ab9b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/594-h/594-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6094 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Twilight Stories, by Various + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Twilight Stories, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Twilight Stories + +Author: Various + +Release Date: November 30, 2009 [EBook #594] +Last Updated: January 8, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWILIGHT STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger, and Charles Keller for Tina + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + TWILIGHT STORIES + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Various + </h2> + <h3> + Margaret Sydney, Susan Coolidge, Joaquin Miller,<br /> Mrs. Amy Therese + Powelson, Etc. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + We went to the show one night,<br /> And it certainly was a great sight,<br /> + This tiger to see,<br /> Fierce as he could be,<br /> And roaring with all + his might. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> CHRISTMAS DAY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE ONLY WOMAN IN THE TOWN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE CONQUEST OF FAIRYLAND. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> KENTUCKY BELLE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> PROPHECIES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> WHY HE WAS WHIPPED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> "APPLES FINKEY"—THE WATER-BOY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> LITTLE BROWN THRUSHES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE STORY OF THE EMPTY SLEEVE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> FACING THE WORLD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> ROBERT OF LINCOLN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> "DIXIE" AND "YANKEE DOODLE." </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> THE BAREFOOT BOY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> BABOUSCKA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> DAISIES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> DRIVING HOME THE COWS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> THE BABY'S KISS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> THE LOST DIAMOND SNUFF BOX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> THE AMERICAN FLAG. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> AUNT POLLY SHEDD'S BRIGADE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> CORINNE'S MUSICALE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> BARBARA FRIETCHIE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> SHERIDAN'S RIDE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> THE CHILDREN'S HOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> CARYL'S PLUM. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> OUR TWO OPINIONS. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHRISTMAS DAY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Christmas chimes are pealing high + Beneath the solemn Christmas sky, + And blowing winds their notes prolong + Like echoes from an angel's song; + Good will and peace, peace and good will + Ring out the carols glad and gay, + Telling the heavenly message still + That Christ the Child was born to-day. + + In lowly hut and palace hall + Peasant and king keep festival, + And childhood wears a fairer guise, + And tenderer shine all mother-eyes; + The aged man forgets his years, + The mirthful heart is doubly gay, + The sad are cheated of their tears, + For Christ the Lord was born to-day. + SUSAN COOLIDGE. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They sat on the curbing + In a crowded row— + Two little maids + And one little beau,— + Watching to see + The big Elephant go + By in the street parade; + But when it came past, + Of maids there were none, + For down a by-street + They cowardly run, + While one little beau + Made all manner of fun— + Of the Elephant he wasn't afraid. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ONLY WOMAN IN THE TOWN. + </h2> + <p> + One hundred years' and one ago, in Boston, at ten of the clock one April + night, a church steeple had been climbed and a lantern hung out. + </p> + <p> + At ten, the same night, in mid-river of the Charles, oarsmen two, with + passenger silent and grim, had seen the signal light out-swung, and rowed + with speed for the Charlestown shore. + </p> + <p> + At eleven, the moon was risen, and the grim passenger, Paul Revere, had + ridden up the Neck, encountered a foe, who opposed his ride into the + country, and, after a brief delay, rode on, leaving a British officer + lying in a clay pit. + </p> + <p> + At mid-night, a hundred ears had heard the flying horseman cry, "Up and + arm. The Regulars are coming out!" + </p> + <p> + You know the story well. You have heard how the wild alarm ran from voice + to voice and echoed beneath every roof, until the men of Lexington and + Concord were stirred and aroused with patriotic fear for the safety of the + public stores that had been committed to their keeping. + </p> + <p> + You know how, long ere the chill April day began to dawn, they had drawn, + by horse power and by hand power, the cherished stores into safe + hiding-places in the depth of friendly forest-coverts. + </p> + <p> + There is one thing about that day that you have NOT heard and I will tell + you now. It is, how one little woman staid in the town of Concord, whence + all the women save her had fled. + </p> + <p> + All the houses that were standing then, are very old-fashioned now, but + there was one dwelling-place on Concord Common that was old-fashioned even + then! It was the abode of Martha Moulton and "Uncle John." Just who "Uncle + John" was, is not now known, but he was probably Martha Moulton's uncle. + The uncle, it appears by record, was eighty-five years old; while the + niece was ONLY three-score and eleven. + </p> + <p> + Once and again that morning, a friendly hand had pulled the latch-string + at Martha Moulton's kitchen entrance and offered to convey herself and + treasures away, but, to either proffer, she had said: "No, I must stay + until Uncle John gets the cricks out of his back, if all the British + soldiers in the land march into town." + </p> + <p> + At last, came Joe Devins, a lad of fifteen years—Joe's two + astonished eyes peered for a moment into Martha Moulton's kitchen, and + then eyes and owner dashed into the room, to learn, what the sight he + there saw, could mean. + </p> + <p> + "Whew! Mother Moulton, what are you doing?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm getting Uncle John his breakfast to be sure, Joe," she answered. + "Have you seen so many sights this morning that you don't know breakfast, + when you see it? Have a care there, for hot fat WILL burn," as she deftly + poured the contents of a pan, fresh from the fire, into a dish. + </p> + <p> + Hungry Joe had been astir since the first drum had beat to arms at two of + the clock. He gave one glance at the boiling cream and the slices of crisp + pork swimming in it, as he gasped forth the words, "Getting breakfast in + Concord THIS morning! MOTHER MOULTON, you MUST be crazy." + </p> + <p> + "So they tell me," she said, serenely. "There comes Uncle John!" she + added, as the clatter of a staff on the stone steps of the stairway + outrang, for an instant, the cries of hurrying and confusion that filled + the air of the street. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you know, Mother Moulton," Joe went on to say, "that every single + woman and child have been carried off, where the Britishers won't find + 'em?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't believe the king's troops have stirred out of Boston," she + replied, going to the door leading to the stone staircase, to open it for + Uncle John. + </p> + <p> + "Don't believe it?" and Joe looked, as he echoed the words, as though only + a boy could feel sufficient disgust at such want of common sense, in full + view of the fact, that Reuben Brown had just brought the news that eight + men had been killed by the king's Red-coats, in Lexington, which fact he + made haste to impart. + </p> + <p> + "I won't believe a word of it," she said, stoutly, "until I see the + soldiers coming." + </p> + <p> + "Ah! Hear that!" cried Joe, tossing back his hair and swinging his arms + triumphantly at an airy foe. "You won't have to wait long. THAT SIGNAL is + for the minute men. They are going to march out to meet the Red-coats. + Wish I was a minute man, this minute." + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, poor Uncle John was getting down the steps of the stairway, + with many a grimace and groan. As he touched the floor, Joe, his face + beaming with excitement and enthusiasm, sprang to place a chair for him at + the table, saying, "Good morning!" at the same moment. + </p> + <p> + "May be," groaned Uncle John, "youngsters LIKE YOU may think it is a good + morning, but I DON'T, such a din and clatter as the fools have kept up all + night long. If I had the power" (and now the poor old man fairly groaned + with rage), "I'd make 'em quiet long enough to let an old man get a wink + of sleep, when the rheumatism lets go." + </p> + <p> + "I'm real sorry for you," said Joe, "but you don't know the news. The + king's troops, from camp, in Boston, are marching right down here, to + carry off all our arms that they can find." + </p> + <p> + "Are they?" was the sarcastic rejoined. "It's the best news I've heard in + a long while. Wish they had my arms, this minute. They wouldn't carry them + a step farther than they could help, I know. Run and tell them mine are + ready, Joe." + </p> + <p> + "But, Uncle John, wait till after breakfast, you'll want to use them once + more," said Martha Moulton, trying to help him into the chair that Joe had + placed on the white sanded floor. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Joe Devins had ears for all the sounds that penetrated the + kitchen from out of doors, and he had eyes for the slices of well-browned + pork and the golden hued Johnny-cake lying before the glowing coals on the + broad hearth. + </p> + <p> + As the little woman bent to take up the breakfast, Joe, intent on doing + some kindness for her in the way of saving treasures, asked, "Shan't I + help you, Mother Moulton?" + </p> + <p> + "I reckon I am not so old that I can't lift a mite of cornbread," she + replied with chilling severity. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I didn't mean to lift THAT THING," he made haste to explain, "but to + carry off things and hide 'em away, as everybody else has been doing half + the night. I know a first-rate place up in the woods. Used to be a honey + tree, you know, and it's just as hollow as anything. Silver spoons and + things would be just as safe in it—" but Joe's words were + interrupted by unusual tumult on the street and he ran off to learn the + news, intending to return and get the breakfast that had been offered to + him. + </p> + <p> + Presently he rushed back to the house with cheeks aflame and eyes ablaze + with excitement. "They're a coming!" he cried. "They're in sight down by + the rocks. They see 'em marching, the men on the hill, do!" + </p> + <p> + "You don't mean that its really true that the soldiers are coming here, + RIGHT INTO OUR TOWN," cried Martha Moulton, rising in haste and bringing + together with rapid flourishes to right and to left, every fragment of + silver on the table. Uncle John strove to hold fast his individual spoon, + but she twitched it without ceremony out from his rheumatic old fingers, + and ran next to the parlor cupboard, wherein lay her movable valuables. + </p> + <p> + "What in the world shall I do with them," she cried, returning with her + apron well filled with treasures, and borne down by the weight thereof. + </p> + <p> + "Give 'em to me," cried Joe. "Here's a basket, drop 'em in, and I'll run + like a brush-fire through the town and across the old bridge, and hide 'em + as safe as a weasel's nap." + </p> + <p> + Joe's fingers were creamy; his mouth was half filled with Johnny-cake, and + his pocket on the right bulged to its utmost capacity with the same, as he + held forth the basket; but the little woman was afraid to trust him, as + she had been afraid to trust her neighbors. + </p> + <p> + "No! No!" she replied, to his repeated offers. "I know what I'll do. You, + Joe Devins, stay right where you are till I come back, and, don't you ever + LOOK out of the window." + </p> + <p> + "Dear, dear me!" she cried, flushed and anxious when she was out of sight + of Uncle John and Joe. "I WISH I'd given 'em to Col. Barrett when he was + here before daylight, only, I WAS afraid I should never get sight of them + again." + </p> + <p> + She drew off one of her stockings, filled it, tied the opening at the top + with a string-plunged stocking and all into a pail full of water and + proceeded to pour the contents into the well. + </p> + <p> + Just as the dark circle had closed over the blue stockings, Joe Devin's + face peered down the depths by her side, and his voice sounded out the + words: "O Mother Moulton, the British will search the wells the VERY first + thing. Of course, they EXPECT to find things in wells!" + </p> + <p> + "Why didn't you tell me before, Joe? but now it is too late." + </p> + <p> + "I would, if I'd known what you was going to do; they'd been a sight + safer, in the honey tree." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, and what a fool I've been—flung MY WATCH into the well with + the spoons!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, well! Don't stand there, looking," as she hovered over the high + curb, with her hand on the bucket. "Everybody will know, if you do, + there." + </p> + <p> + "Martha! Martha?" shrieked Uncle John's quavering voice from the house + door. + </p> + <p> + "Bless my heart!" she exclaimed, hurrying back over the stones. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter with your heart?" questioned Joe. + </p> + <p> + "Nothing. I was thinking of Uncle John's money," she answered. + </p> + <p> + "Has he got money?" cried Joe. "I thought he was poor, and you took care + of him because you were so good." + </p> + <p> + Not one word that Joe uttered did the little woman hear. She was already + by Uncle John's side and asking him for the key to his strong box. + </p> + <p> + Uncle John's rheumatism was terribly exasperating. "No, I won't give it to + you!" he cried, "and nobody shall have it as long as I'm above ground." + </p> + <p> + "Then the soldiers will carry it off," she said. + </p> + <p> + "Let 'em!" was his reply, grasping his staff firmly with both hands and + gleaming defiance out of his wide, pale eyes. "YOU won't get the key, even + if they do." + </p> + <p> + At this instant, a voice at the doorway shouted the words, "Hide, hide + away somewhere, Mother Moulton, for the Red-coats are in sight this + minute!" + </p> + <p> + She heard the warning, and giving one glance at Uncle John, which look was + answered by another, "no, you won't have it," she grasped Joe Devins by + the collar of his jacket and thrust him before her up the staircase, so + quickly that the boy had no chance to speak, until she released her hold + at the entrance to Uncle John's room. + </p> + <p> + The idea of being taken prisoner in such a manner, and by a woman, too, + was too much for the lad's endurance. "Let me go!" he cried, the instant + he could recover his breath. "I won't hide away in your garret, like a + woman, I won't. I want to see the militia and the minute men fight the + troops, I do." + </p> + <p> + "Help me first, Joe. Here, quick now; let's get this box out and up + garret. We'll hide it under the corn and it'll be safe," she coaxed. + </p> + <p> + The box was under Uncle John's bed. + </p> + <p> + "What's in the old thing any how?" questioned Joe, pulling with all his + strength at it. + </p> + <p> + The box, or chest, was painted red, and was bound about by massive iron + bands. + </p> + <p> + "I've never seen the inside of it," said Mother Moulton. "It holds the + poor old soul's sole treasure, and I DO want to save it for him if I can." + </p> + <p> + They had drawn it with much hard endeavor, as far as the garret stairs, + but their united strength failed to lift it. "Heave it, now!" cried Joe, + and lo! it was up two steps. So they turned it over and over with many a + thudding thump; every one of which thumps Uncle John heard, and believed + to be strokes upon the box itself to burst it asunder, until it was fairly + shelved on the garret floor. + </p> + <p> + In the very midst of the overturnings, a voice from below had been heard + crying out, "Let my box alone! Don't break it open. If you do, I'll—I'll—" + but, whatever the poor man MEANT to threaten as a penalty, he could not + think of anything half severe enough to say and so left it uncertain as to + the punishment that might be looked for. + </p> + <p> + "Poor old soul!" ejaculated the little woman, her soft white curls in + disorder and the pink color rising from her cheeks to her fair forehead, + as she bent to help Joe drag the box beneath the rafter's edge. + </p> + <p> + "Now, Joe," she said, "we'll heap nubbins over it, and if the soldiers + want corn they'll take good ears and never think of touching poor + nubbins"; so they fell to work throwing corn over the red chest, until it + was completely concealed from view. + </p> + <p> + Then he sprang to the high-up-window ledge in the point of the roof and + took one glance out. "Oh, I see them, the Red-coats. True's I live, there + go the militia UP THE HILL. I thought they was going to stand and defend. + Shame on 'em, I say." Jumping down and crying back to Mother Moulton, "I'm + going to stand by the minute men," he went down, three steps at a leap, + and nearly overturned Uncle John on the stairs, who, with many groans was + trying to get to the defense of his strong box. + </p> + <p> + "What did you help her for, you scamp," he demanded of Joe, flourishing + his staff unpleasantly near the lad's head. + </p> + <p> + "'Cause she asked me to, and couldn't do it alone," returned Joe, dodging + the stick and disappearing from the scene, at the very moment Martha + Moulton encountered Uncle John. + </p> + <p> + "Your strong box is safe under nubbins in the garret, unless the house + burns down, and now that you are up here, you had better stay," she added + soothingly, as she hastened by him to reach the kitchen below. + </p> + <p> + Once there, she paused a second or two to take resolution regarding her + next act. She knew full well that there was not one second to spare, and + yet she stood looking, apparently, into the glowing embers on the hearth. + She was flushed and excited, both by the unwonted toil, and the coming + events. Cobwebs from the rafters had fallen on her hair and home-spun + dress, and would readily have betrayed her late occupation, to any + discerning soldier of the king. + </p> + <p> + A smile broke suddenly over her face, displacing for a brief second every + trace of care. "It's my only weapon, and I must use it," she said, making + a stately courtesy to an imaginary guest and straightway disappeared + within an adjoining room. With buttoned door and dropped curtains the + little woman made haste to array herself in her finest raiment. In five + minutes she reappeared in the kitchen, a picture pleasant to look at. In + all New England, there could not be a more beautiful little old lady than + Martha Moulton was that day. Her hair was guiltless now of cobwebs, but + haloed her face with fluffy little curls of silvery whiteness, above + which, like a crown, was a little cap of dotted muslin, pure as snow. Her + erect figure, not a particle of the hard-working-day in it now, carried + well the folds of a sheeny, black silk gown, over which she had tied an + apron as spotless as the cap. + </p> + <p> + As she fastened back her gown and hurried away the signs of the breakfast + she had not eaten, the clear pink tints seemed to come out with added + beauty of coloring in her cheeks; while her hair seemed fairer and whiter + than at any moment in her three-score and eleven years. + </p> + <p> + Once more Joe Devins looked in. As he caught a glimpse of the picture she + made, he paused to cry out: "All dressed up to meet the robbers! My, how + fine you do look! I wouldn't. I'd go and hide behind the nubbins. They'll + be here in less than five minutes now," he cried, "and I'm going over the + North Bridge to see what's going on there." + </p> + <p> + "O Joe, stay, won't you?" she urged, but the lad was gone, and she was + left alone to meet the foe, comforting herself with the thought, "They'll + treat me with more respect if I LOOK respectable, and if I must die, I'll + die good-looking in my best clothes, anyhow." + </p> + <p> + She threw a few sticks of hickory-wood on the embers, and then drew out + the little round stand, on which the family Bible was always lying. + Recollecting that the British soldiers probably belonged to the Church of + England, she hurried away to fetch Uncle John's "prayer-book." + </p> + <p> + "They'll have respect to me, if they find me reading that, I know," she + thought. Having drawn the round stand within sight of the well, and where + she could also command a view of the staircase, she sat and waited for + coming events. + </p> + <p> + Uncle John was keeping watch of the advancing troops from an upper window. + "Martha," he called, "you'd better come up. They're close by, now." To + tell the truth, Uncle John himself was a little afraid; that is to say he + hadn't quite courage enough to go down, and, perhaps, encounter his own + rheumatism and the king's soldiers on the same stairway, and yet, he felt + that he must defend Martha as well as he could. + </p> + <p> + The rap of a musket, quick and ringing on the front door, startled the + little woman from her apparent devotions. She did not move at the call of + anything so profane. It was the custom of the time to have the front door + divided into two parts, the lower half and the upper half. The former was + closed and made fast, the upper could be swung open at will. + </p> + <p> + The soldier getting no reply, and doubtless thinking that the house was + deserted, leaped over the chained lower half of the door. + </p> + <p> + At the clang of his bayonet against the brass trimmings, Martha Moulton + groaned in spirit, for, if there was any one thing that she deemed + essential to her comfort in this life, it was to keep spotless, speckless + and in every way unharmed, the great knocker on her front door. + </p> + <p> + "Good, sound English metal, too," she thought, "that an English soldier + ought to know how to respect." + </p> + <p> + As she heard the tramp of coming feet she only bent the closer over the + Book of Prayer that lay open on her knee. Not one word did she read or + see; she was inwardly trembling and outwardly watching the well and the + staircase. But now, above all other sounds, broke the noise of Uncle + John's staff thrashing the upper step of the staircase, and the shrill + tremulous cry of the old man defiant, doing his utmost for the defense of + his castle. + </p> + <p> + The fingers that lay beneath the book tingled with desire to box the old + man's ears, for the policy he was pursuing would be fatal to the treasure + in garret and in well; but she was forced to silence and inactivity. + </p> + <p> + As the King's troops, Major Pitcairn at their head, reached the open door + and saw the old lady, they paused. What could they do but look, for a + moment, at the unexpected sight that met their view; a placid old lady in + black silk and dotted muslin, with all the sweet solemnity of morning + devotion hovering about the tidy apartment and seeming to centre at the + round stand by which she sat, this pretty woman, with pink and white face + surmounted with fleecy little curls and crinkles and wisps of floating + whiteness, who looked up to meet their gaze with such innocent + prayer-suffused eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Good morning, Mother," said Major Pitcairn, raising his hat. + </p> + <p> + "Good morning, gentlemen and soldiers," returned Martha Moulton. "You will + pardon my not meeting you at the door, when you see that I was occupied in + rendering service to the Lord of all." She reverently closed the book, + laid it on the table, and arose, with a stately bearing, to demand their + wishes. + </p> + <p> + "We're hungry, good woman," spoke the commander, "and your hearth is the + only hospitable one we've seen since we left Boston. With your good leave + I'll take a bit of this, and he stooped to lift up the Johnny-cake that + had been all this while on the hearth. + </p> + <p> + "I wish I had something better to offer you," she said, making haste to + fetch plates and knives from the corner-cupboard, and all the while she + was keeping eye-guard over the well. "I'm afraid the Concorders haven't + left much for you to-day," she added, with a soft sigh of regret, as + though she really felt sorry that such brave men and good soldiers had + fallen on hard times in the ancient town. At the moment she had brought + forth bread and baked beans, and was putting them on the table, a voice + rang into the room, causing every eye to turn toward Uncle John. He had + gotten down the stairs without uttering one audible groan, and was + standing, one step above the floor of the room, brandishing and whirling + his staff about in a manner to cause even rheumatism to flee the place, + while, at the top of his voice he cried out: + </p> + <p> + "Martha Moulton, how DARE you FEED these—these—monsters—in + human form!" + </p> + <p> + "Don't mind him, gentlemen, please don't," she made haste to say, "he's + old, VERY old; eighty-five, his last birthday, and—a little + hoity-toity at times," pointing deftly with her finger in the region of + the reasoning powers in her own shapely head. + </p> + <p> + Summoning Major Pitcairn by an offer of a dish of beans, she contrived to + say, under covert of it: + </p> + <p> + "You see, sir, I couldn't go away and leave him; he is almost distracted + with rheumatism, and this excitement to-day will kill him, I'm afraid." + </p> + <p> + Advancing toward the staircase with bold and soldierly front, Major + Pitcairn said to Uncle John: + </p> + <p> + "Stand aside, old man, and we'll hold you harmless." + </p> + <p> + "I don't believe you will, you red-trimmed trooper, you," was the reply; + and, with a dexterous swing of the wooden staff, he mowed off and down + three military hats. + </p> + <p> + Before any one had time to speak, Martha Moulton adroitly stooping, as + though to recover Major Pitcairn's hat, which had rolled to her feet, + swung the stairway-door into its place with a resounding bang, and + followed up that achievement with a swift turn of two large wooden + buttons, one high up, and the other low down, near the floor. + </p> + <p> + "There!" she said, "he is safe out of mischief for awhile, and your heads + are safe as well. Pardon a poor old man, who does not know what he is + about." + </p> + <p> + "He seems to know remarkably well," exclaimed an officer. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, behind the strong door, Uncle John's wrath knew no bounds. In + his frantic endeavors to burst the fastenings of the wooden buttons, + rheumatic cramps seized him and carried the day, leaving him out of the + battle. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, a portion of the soldiery clustered about the door. The king's + horses were fed within five feet of the great brass knocker, while, within + the house, the beautiful little old woman, in her Sunday-best-raiment, + tried to do the dismal honors of the day to the foes of her country. + Watching her, one would have thought she was entertaining heroes returned + from the achievement of valiant deeds, whereas, in her own heart, she knew + full well that she was giving a little to save much. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could exceed the seeming alacrity with which she fetched water + from the well for the officers: and, when Major Pitcairn gallantly ordered + his men to do the service, the little soul was in alarm; she was so afraid + that "somehow, in some way or another, the blue stocking would get hitched + on to the bucket." She knew that she must to its rescue, and so she + bravely acknowledged herself to have taken a vow (when, she did not say), + to draw all the water that was taken from that well. + </p> + <p> + "A remnant of witchcraft!" remarked a soldier within hearing. + </p> + <p> + "Do I look like a witch?" she demanded. + </p> + <p> + "If you do," replied Major Pitcairn, "I admire New England witches, and + never would condemn one to be hung, or burned, or—smothered." + </p> + <p> + Martha Moulton never wore so brilliant a color on her aged cheeks as at + that moment. She felt bitter shame at the ruse she had attempted, but + silver spoons were precious, and, to escape the smile that went around at + Major Pitcairn's words, she was only too glad to go again to the well and + dip slowly the high, over-hanging sweep into the cool, clear, dark depth + below. + </p> + <p> + During this time the cold, frosty morning spent itself into the brilliant, + shining noon. + </p> + <p> + You know what happened at Concord on that 19th of April in the year 1775. + You have been told the story, how the men of Acton met and resisted the + king's troops at the old North Bridge, how brave Captain Davis and + minute-man Hosmer fell, how the sound of their falling struck down to the + very heart of mother earth, and caused her to send forth her brave sons to + cry "Liberty, or Death!" + </p> + <p> + And the rest of the story; the sixty or more barrels of flour that the + king's troops found and struck the heads from, leaving the flour in + condition to be gathered again at nightfall, the arms and powder that they + destroyed, the houses they burned; all these, are they not recorded in + every child's history in the land? + </p> + <p> + While these things were going on, for a brief while, at mid-day, Martha + Moulton found her home deserted. She had not forgotten poor, suffering, + irate Uncle John in the regions above, and, so, the very minute she had + the chance, she made a strong cup of catnip tea (the real tea, you know, + was brewing in Boston harbor). + </p> + <p> + She turned the buttons, and, with a bit of trembling at her heart, such as + she had not felt all day, she ventured up the stairs, bearing the steaming + peace-offering before her. + </p> + <p> + Uncle John was writhing under the sharp thorns and twinges of his old + enemy, and in no frame of mind to receive any overtures in the shape of + catnip tea; nevertheless, he was watching, as well as he was able, the + motions of the enemy. As she drew near he cried out: + </p> + <p> + "Look out this window, and see! Much GOOD all your scheming will do YOU!" + </p> + <p> + She obeyed his command to look, and the sight she then saw caused her to + let fall the cup of catnip tea and rush down the stairs, wringing her + hands as she went and crying out: + </p> + <p> + "Oh, dear! what shall I do? The house will burn and the box up garret. + Everything's lost!" + </p> + <p> + Major Pitcairn, at that moment, was on the green in front of her door, + giving orders. + </p> + <p> + Forgetting the dignified part she intended to play, forgetting everything + but the supreme danger that was hovering in mid-air over her home—the + old house wherein she had been born, and the only home she had ever known—she + rushed out upon the green, amid the troops, and surrounded by cavalry, and + made her way to Major Pitcairn. + </p> + <p> + "The town-house is on fire!" she cried, laying her hand upon the + commander's arm. + </p> + <p> + He turned and looked at her. Major Pitcairn had recently learned that the + task he had been set to do in the provincial towns that day was not an + easy one; that, when hard pressed and trodden down, the despised rustics, + in home-spun dress, could sting even English soldiers; and thus it + happened that, when he felt the touch of Mother Moulton's plump little old + fingers on his military sleeve, he was not in the pleasant humor that he + had been, when the same hand had ministered to his hunger in the early + morning. + </p> + <p> + "Well, what of it? LET IT BURN! We won't hurt you, if you go in the house + and stay there!" + </p> + <p> + She turned and glanced up at the court-house. Already flames were issuing + from it. "Go in the house and let it burn, INDEED!" thought she. "He knows + me, don't he? Oh, sir! for the love of Heaven won't you stop it?" she + said, entreatingly. + </p> + <p> + "Run in the house, good mother. That is a wise woman," he advised. + </p> + <p> + Down in her heart, and as the very outcome of lip and brain she wanted to + say, "You needn't 'mother' me, you murderous rascal!" but, remembering + everything that was at stake, she crushed her wrath and buttoned it in as + closely as she had Uncle John behind the door in the morning, and again, + with swift gentleness, laid her hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + He turned and looked at her. Vexed at her persistence, and extremely + annoyed at intelligence that had just reached him from the North Bridge, + he said, imperiously, "Get away! or you'll be trodden down by the horses!" + </p> + <p> + "I CAN'T go!" she cried, clasping his arm, and fairly clinging to it in + her frenzy of excitement. "Oh stop the fire, quick, quick! or my house + will burn!" + </p> + <p> + "I have no time to put out your fires," he said, carelessly, shaking loose + from her hold and turning to meet a messenger with news. + </p> + <p> + Poor little woman! What could she do? The wind was rising, and the fire + grew. Flame was creeping out in a little blue curl in a new place, under + the rafter's edge, AND NOBODY CARED. That was what increased the pressing + misery of it all. It was so unlike a common country alarm, where everybody + rushed up and down the streets, crying "Fire! fire! f-i-r-e!" and went + hurrying to and fro for pails of water to help put it out. Until that + moment the little woman did not know how utterly deserted she was. + </p> + <p> + In very despair, she ran to her house, seized two pails, filled them with + greater haste than she had ever drawn water before, and, regardless of + Uncle John's imprecations, carried them forth, one in either hand, the + water dripping carelessly down the side breadths of her fair silk gown, + her silvery curls tossed and tumbled in white confusion, her pleasant face + aflame with eagerness, and her clear eyes suffused with tears. + </p> + <p> + Thus equipped with facts and feeling, she once more appeared to Major + Pitcairn. + </p> + <p> + "Have you a mother in old England?" she cried. "If so, for her sake, stop + this fire." + </p> + <p> + Her words touched his heart. + </p> + <p> + "And if I do—?" he answered. + </p> + <p> + "THEN YOUR JOHNNY-CAKE ON MY HEARTH WON'T BURN UP," she said, with a quick + little smile, adjusting her cap. + </p> + <p> + Major Pitcairn laughed, and two soldiers, at his command, seized the pails + and made haste to the court-house, followed by many more. + </p> + <p> + For awhile the fire seemed victorious, but, by brave effort, it was + finally overcome, and the court-house saved. + </p> + <p> + At a distance Joe Devins had noticed the smoke hovering like a little + cloud, then sailing away still more like a cloud over the town; and he had + made haste to the scene, arriving in time to venture on the roof, and do + good service there. + </p> + <p> + After the fire was extinguished, he thought of Martha Moulton, and he + could not help feeling a bit guilty at the consciousness that he had gone + off and left her alone. + </p> + <p> + Going to the house he found her entertaining the king's troopers with the + best food her humble store afforded. + </p> + <p> + She was so charmed with herself, and so utterly well pleased with the + success of her pleading, that the little woman's nerves fairly quivered + with jubilation; and best of all, the blue stocking was still safe in the + well, for had she not watched with her own eyes every time the bucket was + dipped to fetch up water for the fire, having, somehow, got rid of the vow + she had taken regarding the drawing of the water. + </p> + <p> + As she saw the lad looking, with surprised countenance, into the room + where the feast was going on, a fear crept up her own face and darted out + from her eyes. It was, lest Joe Devins should spoil it all by ill-timed + words. + </p> + <p> + She made haste to meet him, basket in hand. + </p> + <p> + "Here, Joe," she said, "fetch me some small wood, there's a good boy." + </p> + <p> + As she gave him the basket she was just in time to stop the rejoinder that + was issuing from his lips. + </p> + <p> + In time to intercept his return she was at the wood-pile. + </p> + <p> + "Joe," she said, half-abashed before the truth that shone in the boy's + eyes, "Joe," she repeated, "you know Major Pitcairn ordered the fire put + out, TO PLEASE ME, because I begged him so, and, in return, what CAN I do + but give them something to eat. Come and help me." + </p> + <p> + "I won't," responded Joe. "Their hands are red with blood. They've killed + two men at the bridge." + </p> + <p> + "Who's killed?" she asked, trembling, but Joe would not tell her. He + demanded to know what had been done with Uncle John. + </p> + <p> + "He's quiet enough, up-stairs," she replied, with a sudden spasm of + feeling that she HAD neglected Uncle John shamefully; still, with the day, + and the fire and everything, how could she help it? but, really, it did + seem strange that he made no noise, with a hundred armed men coming and + going through the house. + </p> + <p> + At least, that was what Joe thought, and, having deposited the basket of + wood on the threshold of the kitchen door, he departed around the corner + of the house. Presently he had climbed a pear-tree, dropped from one of + its overhanging branches on the lean-to, raised a sash and crept into the + window. + </p> + <p> + Slipping off his shoes, heavy with spring-mud, he proceeded to search for + Uncle John. He was not in his own room; he was not in the guest-chamber; + he was not in any one of the rooms. + </p> + <p> + On the floor, by the window in the hall, looking out upon the green, he + found the broken cup and saucer that Martha Moulton had let fall. Having + made a second round, in which he investigated every closet and penetrated + into the spaces under beds, Joe thought of the garret. + </p> + <p> + Tramp, tramp went the heavy feet on the sanded floors below, drowning + every possible sound from above; nevertheless, as the lad opened the door + leading into the garret, he whispered cautiously: "Uncle John! Uncle + John!" + </p> + <p> + All was silent above. Joe went up, and was startled by a groan. He had to + stand a few seconds, to let the darkness grow into light, ere he could + see; and, when he could discern outlines in the dimness, there was given + to him the picture of Uncle John, lying helpless amid and upon the nubbins + that had been piled over his strong box. + </p> + <p> + "Why, Uncle John, are you dead?" asked Joe, climbing over to his side. + </p> + <p> + "Is the house afire?" was the response. + </p> + <p> + "House afire? No! The confounded red-coats up and put it out." + </p> + <p> + "I thought they was going to let me burn to death up here!" groaned Uncle + John. + </p> + <p> + "Can I help you up?" and Joe proffered two strong hands, rather black with + toil and smoke. + </p> + <p> + "No, no! You can't help me. If the house isn't afire, I'll stand it till + the fellows are gone, and then, Joe you fetch the doctor as quick as you + can." + </p> + <p> + "YOU can't get a doctor for love nor money this night, Uncle John. There's + too much work to be done in Lexington and Concord to-night for wounded and + dying men; and there'll be more of 'em too afore a single red-coat sees + Boston again. They'll be hunted down every step of the way. They've killed + Captain Davis, from Acton." + </p> + <p> + "You don't say so!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, they have, and—" + </p> + <p> + "I say, Joe Devins, go down and do-do something. There's my niece, + a-feeding the murderers! I'll disown her. She shan't have a penny of my + pounds, she shan't!" + </p> + <p> + Both Joe and Uncle John were compelled to remain in inaction, while below, + the weary little woman acted the kind hostess to His Majesty's troops. + </p> + <p> + But now the feast was spent, and the soldiers were summoned to begin their + painful march. Assembled on the green, all was ready, when Major Pitcairn, + remembering the little woman who had ministered to his wants, returned to + the house to say farewell. + </p> + <p> + 'Twas but a step to her door, and but a moment since he had left it, but + he found her crying; crying with joy, in the very chair where he had found + her at prayers in the morning. + </p> + <p> + "I would like to say good-by," he said; "you've been very kind to me + to-day." + </p> + <p> + With a quick dash or two of the dotted white apron (spotless no longer) to + her eye, she arose. Major Pitcairn extended his hand, but she folded her + own closely together, and said: + </p> + <p> + "I wish you a pleasant journey back to Boston, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Will you not shake hands with me before I go?" + </p> + <p> + "I can feed the enemy of my country, but shake hands with him, NEVER!" + </p> + <p> + For the first time that day, the little woman's love of country seemed to + rise triumphant within her, and drown every impulse to selfishness; or was + it the nearness to safety that she felt? Human conduct is the result of so + many motives that it is sometimes impossible to name the compound, + although on that occasion Martha Moulton labelled it "Patriotism." + </p> + <p> + "And yet I put out the fire for you," he said. + </p> + <p> + "For your mother's sake, in old England, it was, you remember, sir." + </p> + <p> + "I remember," said Major Pitcairn, with a sigh, as he turned away. + </p> + <p> + "And for HER sake I will shake hands with you," said Martha Moulton. + </p> + <p> + So he turned back, and across the threshold, in presence of the waiting + troops, the commander of the expedition to Concord, and the only woman in + the town, shook hands at parting. + </p> + <p> + Martha Moulton saw Major Pitcairn mount his horse; heard the order given + for the march to begin,—the march of which you all have heard. You + know what a sorry time the Red-coats had of it in getting back to Boston; + how they were fought at every inch of the way, and waylaid from behind + every convenient tree-trunk, and shot at from tree-tops, and aimed at from + upper windows, and beseiged from behind stone walls, and, in short, made + so miserable and harassed and overworn, that at last their depleted ranks, + with the tongues of the men parched and hanging, were fain to lie down by + the road-side and take what came next, even though it might be death. And + then THE DEAD they left behind them! + </p> + <p> + Ah! there's nothing wholesome to mind or body about war, until long, long + after it is over, and the earth has had time to hide the blood, and send + it forth in sweet blooms of liberty, with forget-me-nots springing thick + between. + </p> + <p> + The men of that day are long dead. The same soil holds regulars and + minute-men. England, who over-ruled, and the provinces, that put out brave + hands to seize their rights, are good friends to-day, and have shaken + hands over many a threshold of hearty thought and kind deeds since that + time. + </p> + <p> + The tree of Liberty grows yet, stately and fair, for the men of the + Revolution planted it well and surely. God himself HATH given it increase. + So we gather to-day, in this our story, a forget-me-not more, from the old + town of Concord. + </p> + <p> + When the troops had marched away, the weary little woman laid aside her + silken gown, resumed her homespun dress, and immediately began to think of + getting Uncle John down-stairs again into his easy chair; but it required + more aid than she could give to lift the fallen man. At last Joe Devins + summoned returning neighbors, who came to the rescue, and the poor nubbins + were left to the rats once more. + </p> + <p> + Joe climbed down the well and rescued the blue stocking, with its + treasures unharmed, even to the precious watch, which watch was Martha + Moulton's chief treasure, and one of very few in the town. + </p> + <p> + Martha Moulton was the heroine of the day. The house was beseiged by + admiring men and women that night and for two or three days thereafter; + but when, years later, she being older, and poorer, even to want, + petitioned the General Court for a reward for the service she rendered in + persuading Major Pitcairn to save the court-house from burning, there was + granted to her only fifteen dollars, a poor little forget-me-not, it is + true, but JUST ENOUGH to carry her story down the years, whereas, but for + that, it might never have been wafted up and down the land. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sweep, sweep, sweep! Up all this dirt and dust, + For Mamma is busy today and help her I surely must. + Everything now is spick and span; away to my play I will run. + It will be such a 'sprise to Mamma to find all this work is done. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CONQUEST OF FAIRYLAND. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There reigned a king in the land of Persia, mighty and + great was he grown, + On the necks of the kings of the conquered earth he builded up + his throne. + + There sate a king on the throne of Persia; and he was grown so + proud + That all the life of the world was less to him than a passing + cloud. + + He reigned in glory: joy and sorrow lying between his hands. + If he sighed a nation shook, his smile ripened the harvest of + lands. + + He was the saddest man beneath the everlasting sky, + For all his glories had left him old, and the proudest king must + die. + + He who was even as God to all the nations of men, + Must die as the merest peasant dies, and turn into earth again. + + And his life with the fear of death was bitter and sick and + accursed, + As brackish water to drink of which is to be forever athirst. + + The hateful years rolled on and on, but once it chanced at noon + The drowsy court was thrilled to gladness, it echoed so sweet a + tune. + + Low as the lapping of tile sea, as the song of the lark is + clear, Wild as the moaning of pine branches; the king was fain + to hear. + + "What is the song, and who is the singer?" he said; "before + the throne + Let him come, for the songs of the world are mine, and all but + this are known." + + Seven mighty kings went out the minstrel man to find: + And all they found was a dead cyprus soughing in the wind. + + And slower still, and sadder still the heavy winters rolled, + And the burning summers waned away, and the king grew very + old; + + Dull, worn, feeble, bent; and once he thought, "to die + Were rest, at least." And as he thought the music wandered by. + + Into the presence of the king, singing, the singer came, + And his face was like the spring in flower, his eyes were clear + as flame. + + "What is the song you play, and what the theme your praises + sing? + It is sweet; I knew not I owned a thing so sweet," said the weary + king. + + "I sing my country," said the singer, "a land that is sweeter + than song." + "Which of my kingdoms is your country? Thither would I along." + + "Great, O king, is thy power, and the earth a footstool for thy + feet; + But my country is free, and my own country, and oh, my country + is sweet!" + + As he heard the eyes of the king grew young and alive with fire + "Lo, is there left on the earth a thing to strive for, a thing to + desire? + + "Where is thy country? tell me, O singer, speak thine innermost + heart! + Leave thy music! speak plainly! Speak-forget thine art!" + + The eyes of the singer shone as he sang, and his voice rang wild + and free + As the elemental wind or the uncontrollable sobs of the sea. + + "O my distant home!" he sighed; "Oh, alas! away and afar + I watch thee now as a lost sailor watches a shining star. + + "Oh, that a wind would take me there! that a bird would set me + down + Where the golden streets shine red at sunset in my father's town! + + "For only in dreams I see the faces of the women there, + And fain would I hear them singing once, braiding their ropes + of hair. + + "Oh, I am thirsty, and long to drink of the river of Life, and I + Am fain to find my own country, where no man shall die." + + Out of the light of the throne the king looked down: as in the + spring + The green leaves burst from their dusky buds, so was hope in the + eyes of the king. + + "Lo," he said, "I will make thee great; I will make thee mighty + in sway + Even as I; but the name of thy country speak, and the place and + the way." + + "Oh, the way to my country is ever north till you pass the mouth + of hell, + Past the limbo of dreams and the desolate land where shadows + dwell. + + "And when you have reached the fount of wonder, you ford the + waters wan + To the land of elves and the land of fairies, enchanted + Masinderan." + + The singer ceased; and the lyre in his hand snapped, as a cord, + in twain; + And neither lyre nor singer was seen in the kingdom of Persia + again. + + And all the nobles gazed astounded; no man spoke a word + Till the old king said: "Call out my armies; bring me hither a + sword!" + + As a little torrent swollen by snows is turned to a terrible + stream, + So the gathering voices of all his countries cried to the king in + his dream. + + Crying, "For thee, O our king, for thee we had freely and + willingly died, + Warriors, martyrs, what thou wilt; not that our lives betide + + "The worth of a thought to the king, but rather because thy rod + Is over our heads as over thine Is the changeless will of God. + + "Rather for this we beseech thee, O master, for thine own sake + refrain + From the blasphemous madness of pride, from the fever of + impious gain." + + "You seek my death," the king thundered; "you cry, forbear + to save + The life of a king too old to frolic; let him sleep in the grave. + + "But I will live for all your treason; and, by my own right + hand! + I will set out this day with you to conquer Fairyland." + + Then all the nations paled aghast, for the battle to begin + Was a war with God, and a war with death, and they knew + the thing was sin. + + Sick at heart they gathered together, but none denounced the + wrong, + For the will of God was unseen, unsaid, and the will of the king + was strong. + + So the air grew bright with spears, and the earth shook under + the tread + Of the mighty horses harnessed for battle; the standards flaunted + red. + + And the wind was loud with the blare of trumpets, and every + house was void + Of the strength and stay of the house, and the peace of the land + destroyed. + + And the growing corn was trodden under the weight of armed + feet, + And every woman in Persia cursed the sound of a song too sweet, + + Cursed the insensate longing for life in the heart of a sick old + man; + But the king of Persia with all his armies marched on Masinderan. + + Many a day they marched in the sun till their silver armour was + lead + To sink their bodies into the grave, and many a man fell dead. + + And they passed the mouth of hell, and the shadowy country + gray, + Where the air is mist and the people mist and the rain more + real than they. + + And they came to the fount of wonder, and forded the waters + wan, + And the king of Persia and all his armies marched on Masinderan. + + And they turned the rivers to blood, and the fields to a ravaged + camp, + And they neared the golden faery town, that burned in the dusk + as a lamp. + + And they stood and shouted for joy to see it stand so nigh, + Given into their hands for spoil; and their hearts beat proud + and high. + + And the armies longed for the morrow, to conquer the shining + town, + For there was no death in the land, neither any to strike them + down. + + The hosts were many in numbers, mighty, and skilled in the + strife, + And they lusted for gold and conquest as the old king lusted for + life. + + And, gazing on the golden place, night took them unaware, + And black and windy grew the skies, and black the eddying air + + So long the night and black the night that fell upon their eyes, + They quaked with fear, those mighty hosts; the sun would never + rise. + + Darkness and deafening sounds confused the black, tempestuous + air, + And no man saw his neighbor's face, nor heard his neighbor's + prayer. + + And wild with terror the raging armies fell on each other in + fight, + The ground was strewn with wounded men, mad in the horrible night + + Mad with eternal pain, with darkness and stabbing blows + Rained on all sides from invisible hands till the ground was red + as a rose. + + And, though he was longing for rest, none ventured to pause from + the strife, + Lest haply another wound be his to poison his hateful life + + And the king entreated death; and for peace the armies prayed; + But the gifts of God are everlasting, his word is not gainsaid; + + Gold and battle are given the hosts, their boon is turned to a + ban, + And the curse of the king is to reign forever in conquered + Masinderan. + A. MARY F. ROBINSON. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Handy Spandy, Jack-a-Dandy, + Loved plum cake and sugar candy; + He bought some at a grocer's shop + And out he come with a hop. + hop, + hop. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Jocko is a monkey, + Dressed just like a clown; + With the grinding-organ man + He travels round the town. + + Jocko, Jocko, climb a pole, + Jocko climb a tree, + Jocko, Jocko, tip your cap, + And make a bow to me. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + KENTUCKY BELLE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Summer of 'sixty-three, sir, and Conrad was gone away— + Gone to the county-town, sir, to sell our first load of hay— + We lived in the log-house yonder, poor as ever you've seen; + Roschen there was a baby, and I was only nineteen. + + Conrad, he took the oxen, but he left Kentucky Belle; + How much we thought of Kentucky, I couldn't begin to tell— + Came from the Blue-Grass country; my father gave her to me + When I rode north with Conrad, away from Tennessee. + + Conrad lived in Ohio—a German he is, you know— + The house stood in broad corn-fields, stretching on, row after + row; + The old folks made me welcome; they were kind as kind could be + But I kept longing, longing, for the hills of Tennessee. + + O, for a sight of water, the shadowed slope of a hill! + Clouds that hang on the summit, a wind that is never still + But the level land went stretching away to meet the sky— + Never a rise, from north to south, to rest the weary eye! + + From east to west, no river to shine out under the moon, + Nothing to make a shadow in the yellow afternoon; + Only the breathless sunshine, as I looked out, all forlorn; + Only the "rustle, rustle," as I walked among the corn. + + When I fell sick with pining, we didn't wait any more, + But moved away from the corn-lands out to this river shore— + The Tuscarawas it's called, sir—off there's a hill, you see— + And now I've grown to like it next best to the Tennessee. + + I was at work that morning. Some one came riding like mad + Over the bridge and up the road—Farmer Rouf's little lad; + Bareback he rode; he had no hat; he hardly stopped to say; + "Morgan's men are coming, Frau; they're galloping on this way; + + "I'm sent to warn the neighbors. He isn't a mile behind; + He sweeps up all the horses—every horse that he can find; + Morgan, Morgan, the raider, and Morgan's terrible men, + With bowie-knives and pistols, are galloping up the glen." + + The lad rode down the valley, and I stood still at the door; + The baby laughed and prattled, playing with spools on the floor; + Kentuck was out in the pasture; Conrad, my man, was gone; + Nearer, nearer, Morgan's men were galloping, galloping on! + + Sudden I picked up the baby, and ran to the pasture-bar; + "Kentuck!" I called; "Kentucky!" She knew me ever so far! + I led her down the gully that turns off there to the right, + And tied her to the bushes; her head was just out of sight. + + As I ran back to the log-house, at once there came a sound— + The ring of hoofs, galloping hoofs, trembling over the ground— + Coming into the turnpike out from the White Woman Glen— + Morgan, Morgan the raider, and Morgan's terrible men. + + As near they drew and nearer, my heart beat fast in alarm! + But still I stood in the doorway, with baby on my arm. + They came; they passed; with spur and whip in haste they sped + along— + Morgan, Morgan the raider, and his band six hundred strong. + + Weary they looked and jaded, riding through night and through + day; + Pushing on east to the river, many long miles away, + To the border-strip where Virginia runs up into the West, + To ford the Upper Ohio before they could stop to rest. + + On like the wind they hurried, and Morgan rode in advance; + Bright were his eyes like live coals, as he gave me a sideways + glance; + And I was just breathing freely, after my choking pain, + When the last one of the troopers suddenly drew his rein. + + Frightened I was to death, sir; I scarce dared look in his face, + As he asked for a drink of water, and glanced around the place: + I gave him a cup, and he smiled—'twas only a boy, you see; + Faint and worn; with dim blue eyes, and he'd sailed on the + Tennessee. + + Only sixteen he was, sir—a fond mother's only son— + Off and away with Morgan before his life had begun! + The damp drops stood on his temples; drawn was the boyish + mouth; + And I thought me of the mother waiting down in the South! + + O, pluck was he to the backbone; and clear grit through and + through; + Boasted and bragged like a trooper; but the big words wouldn't + do; + The boy was dying sir, dying, as plain as plain could be, + Worn out by his ride with Morgan up from the Tennessee. + + But, when I told the laddie that I too was from the South, + Water came into his dim eyes, and quivers around his mouth; + "Do you know the Blue-Grass country?" he wistfully began to say; + Then swayed like a willow sapling, and fainted dead away. + + I had him into the log-house, and worked and brought him to; + I fed him, and I coaxed him, as I thought his mother'd do; + And, when the lad got better, and the noise in his head was gone, + Morgan's men were miles away, galloping, galloping on. + + "O, I must go," he muttered; "I must be up and away! + Morgan, Morgan is waiting for me! O, what will Morgan say?" + But I heard the sound of tramping, and kept him back from the + door— + The ringing sound of horses' hoofs that I had heard before. + + And on, on came the soldiers—the Michigan cavalry— + And fast they rode, and back they looked, galloping rapidly; + They had followed hard on Morgan's track; they had followed day + and night; + But of Morgan and Morgan's raiders they had never caught a sight. + + And rich Ohio sat startled through all these summer days; + For strange, wild men were galloping over her broad highways; + Now here, now there, now seen, now gone, now north, now east, + now west, + Through river-valleys and corn-land farms, sweeping away her + best. + + A bold ride and a long ride! But they were taken at last; + They had almost reached the river by galloping hard and fast; + But the boys in blue were upon them ere ever they gained the + ford, + And Morgan, Morgan the raider, laid down his terrible sword. + + Well, I kept the boy till evening—kept him against his will— + But he was too weak to follow, and sat there pale and still; + When it was cool and dusky—you'll wonder to hear me tell— + But I stole down to the gully, and brought up Kentucky Belle. + + I kissed the star on her forehead—my pretty, gentle lass— + But I knew that she'd be happy, back in the old Blue-Grass: + A suit of clothes of Conrad's, with all the money I had, + And Kentucky, pretty Kentucky, I gave to the worn-out lad. + + I guided him to the southward, as well as I knew how: + The boy rode off with many thanks, and many a backward bow; + And then the glow it faded, and my heart began to swell; + And down the glen away she went, my lost Kentucky Belle! + + When Conrad came in the evening, the moon was shining high, + Baby and I were both crying—I couldn't tell him why— + But a battered suit of rebel gray was hanging on the wall, + And a thin old horse with drooping head stood in Kentucky's + stall. + + Well, he was kind, and never once said a hard word to me, + He knew I couldn't help it—'twas all for the Tennessee; + But, after the war was over, just think what came to pass— + A letter, sir, and the two were safe back in the old Blue-Grass. + + The lad got across the border, riding Kentucky Belle; + And Kentuck she was thriving, and fat, and hearty, and well; + He cared for her, and kept her, nor touched her with whip or + spur; + Ah! we've had many horses, but never a horse like her! + + CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Moses was a camel that traveled o'er the sand. + Of the desert, fiercely hot, way down in Egypt-land; + But they brought him to the Fair, + Now upon his hump, + Every child can take a ride, + Who can stand the bumpity-bump. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROPHECIES. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little blue egg, in the nest snug and warm, + Covered so close from the wind and the storm, + Guarded so carefully day after day, + What is your use in this world now, pray? + "Bend your head closer; my secret I'll tell: + There's a baby-bird hid in my tiny blue shell." + + Little green bud, all covered with dew, + Answer my question and answer it true; + What were you made for, and why do you stay + Clinging so close to the twig all the day? + "Hid in my green sheath, some day to unclose, + Nestles the warm, glowing heart of a rose." + + Dear, little baby-girl, dainty and fair, + Sweetest of flowers, of jewels most rare, + Surely there's no other use for you here + Than just to be petted and played with, you dear! + "Oh, a wonderful secret I'm coming to know, + Just a baby like me, to a woman shall grow." + + Ah, swiftly the bird from the nest flies away, + And the bud to a blossom unfolds day by day, + While the woman looks forth in my baby-girl's eyes, + Through her joys and her sorrows, her tears and surprise— + Too soon shall the years bring this gift to her cup, + God keep her, my woman who's now growing up! + BY KATHRINE LENTE STEVENSON. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who said that I was a naughty dog, + And could not behave if I tried? + I only chewed up Katrina's French doll, + And shook her rag one until it cried. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WHY HE WAS WHIPPED. + </h2> + <p> + He was seven years old, lived in Cheyenne, and his name was Tommy. + Moreover he was going to school for the first time in his life. Out here + little people are not allowed to attend school when they are five or six, + for the Law says: "Children under seven must not go to school." + </p> + <p> + But now Tommy was seven and had been to school two weeks, and such + delightful weeks! Every day mamma listened to long accounts of how "me and + Dick Ray played marbles," and "us fellers cracked the whip." There was + another thing that he used to tell mamma about, something that in those + first days he always spoke of in the most subdued tones, and that—I + am sorry to record it of any school, much more a Cheyenne school—was + the numerous whippings that were administered to various little boys and + girls. There was something painfully fascinating about those whippings to + restless, mischievous little Tommy who had never learned the art of + sitting still. He knew his turn might come at any moment and one night he + cried out in his sleep: "Oh, dear, what will become of me if I get + whipped!" But as the days passed on and this possible retribution overtook + him not, his fears gradually forsook him, and instead of speaking + pitifully of "those poor little children who were whipped," he mentioned + them in a causal off-hand manner as, "those cry-babies, you know?" One + afternoon mamma saw him sitting on the porch, slapping his little fat hand + with a strap. "Tommy, child, what in the world are you doing?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + Into his pocket he thrust the strap, and the pink cheeks grew pinker still + as their owner answered: + </p> + <p> + "I—I—was just seeing—how hard I could hit my hand—without + crying;" and he disappeared around the side of the house before mamma + could ask any more questions. + </p> + <p> + The next day Tommy's seatmate, Dicky Ray, was naughty in school, and Miss + Linnet called him up, opened her desk, took out a little riding whip—it + was a bright blue one—and then and there administered punishment. + And because he cried, when recess came, Tommy said: "Isn't Dick Ray just a + reg'lar girl cry-baby?" (He had learned that word from some of the big + boys, but, mind you! he never dared to say it before his mother.) + </p> + <p> + Dick's face flushed with anger. "Never you mind, Tommy Brown," said he, + "Just wait till you get whipped and we'll see a truly girl-cry-baby then, + won't we, Daisy?" + </p> + <p> + And blue-eyed Daisy, who was the idol of their hearts, nodded her curly + little head in the most emphatic manner, and said she "wouldn't be one bit + s'prised if he'd holler so loud that hey would hear him way down in + Colorado." + </p> + <p> + Tommy stood aghast! for, really and truly, he wasn't quite so + stony-hearted a little mortal as he appeared to be; he had been secretly + rather sorry for Dick, but—he wanted Daisy to think that he himself + was big and manly, and he had the opinion that this was just the way to + win her admiration. But all this time HE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT DAISY DID—that + Dick's pockets were full of sugar-plums; tiptop ones too, for Daisy had + tasted them, and knew that little packets of them would from time to time + find their way into her chubby hand. + </p> + <p> + All the rest of the morning Tommy kept thinking, thinking, thinking. One + thing was certain: the present situation was not to be endured one moment + longer than was absolutely necessary. But what could he do? Should he + fight Dicky? This plan was rejected at once, on high, moral grounds. Well, + then, supposing some dark night he should see Daisy on the street, just + grab her, hold on tight and say: "Now, Daisy Rivers, I won't let you go + till you promise you'll like me a great deal betterer than you do Dick + Ray." There seemed something nice about this plan, very nice; the more + Tommy thought of it, the better he liked it; only there were two + objections to it. Firstly: Daisy never by any chance ventured out doors + after dark. Secondly: Neither did Tom. + </p> + <p> + Both objections being insurmountable, this delightful scheme was + reluctantly abandoned, and the thinking process went on harder than ever, + till at last—oh, oh! if he only dared! What a triumph it would be! + But then he couldn't—yes, he could too. Didn't she say that she + "wouldn't be one bit s'prised if he hollered so loud that they would hear + him way down in Colorado?" Colorado, indeed! He'd show her there was one + boy in the school who wasn't a girl-cry-baby! + </p> + <p> + Yes, actually, foolish Tommy had decided to prove his manhood by being + whipped, and that that interesting little event should take place that + very afternoon! + </p> + <p> + What did he do? He whispered six times! + </p> + <p> + Had it been any other child, he would surely have been punished; but Miss + Linnet knew both Tommy and his mamma quite well, and therefore she knew + also, quite well, that only a few days ago the one horror of Tommy's life + had been the thought that he might possibly be whipped. Then too, it was + his first term at school, and hitherto he had been very good. So she + decided to keep him after school and talk to him of the sinfulness of bad + conduct in general, and of whispering in particular. This plan she + faithfully carried out, and the little culprit's heart so melted within + him that he climbed up on his teacher's lap, put his arms around her neck + and kissed her, crying he would never be so naughty again. He was just + going to tell her all about Daisy, when in walked a friend of Miss + Linnet's, so he went home instead. The next morning he started for school + with the firm determination to be a good child, and I really believe he + would have been had not that provoking little witch of a Daisy marched + past him in a very independent manner, her saucy nose away up in the air, + and a scornful look in the pretty blue eyes. It was more than flesh and + blood could stand. All Tom's good resolutions flew sky-high. + </p> + <p> + When twelve o'clock came Miss Linnet's list of delinquents begun in this + wise: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WHISPER MARKS. Thomas Brown..... 15 + Melinda Jones..... 11 +</pre> + <p> + There was great excitement among the little people. How dared any one be + so dreadfully bad! Tommy's heart sank, sank, sank, when Miss Linnet said: + "When school begins this afternoon I shall punish Tommy and Melinda." + </p> + <p> + And she did! She called them both up on the platform, made them clasp + hands and stand with their backs against the blackboard, then wrote just + above their heads: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thomas Brown and Partners in disgrace. + Melinda Jones 15 plus 11 = 26. +</pre> + <p> + Oh, how mortified and ashamed Tommy was! If only she had whipped him, or + if it had been some other girl. But MELINDA JONES!!! At the end of ten + minutes Miss Linnet let them take their seats; but Tommy's heart burned + within him. DAISY HAD LAUGHED WHEN HE STOOD THERE HOLDING MELINDA'S HAND! + There were deep crimson spots on Tommy's cheeks all that afternoon and a + resolute, determined look in his bright brown eyes, but he was very still + and quiet. + </p> + <p> + Later in the day the children were startled by a sudden commotion on the + other side of the room. Daisy was writing on her slate and Melinda Jones, + in passing to her seat, accidentally knocked it out of her hands; without + a moment's hesitation, Daisy, by way of expressing her feelings, snatched + her slate and promptly administered such a sounding "whack!" on Melinda's + back and shoulders as brought a shriek of anguish from that poor, little + unfortunate who began to think that if all the days of her life were to be + like unto this day, existence would certainly prove a burden. + </p> + <p> + Just about two minutes later Miss Linnet was standing by her desk, a ruler + in one hand and Daisy's open palm in the other, while Daisy herself, + miserable little culprit, stood white and trembling before her. As she + raised the ruler to give the first blow, Tommy sprang forward, placing + himself at Daisy's side, put his open palm over hers, and with tears in + his eyes, pleaded in this wise: + </p> + <p> + "Please, Miss Linnet, whip me instead! She is only just a little girl and + I KNOW she'll cry, it will hurt her so! I'd rather it would be me every + time than Daisy—truly I won't cry. Oh, please whip me!" + </p> + <p> + And Miss Linnet did whip him, while Daisy, filled with remorse, clung to + him sobbing as if her heart would break. To be sure, somebody who ought to + know, told me it was the lightest "feruling" ever child received; but + Daisy and Tommy both assured their mothers that it was the "dreadfulest, + cruelest, hardest whipping ever was." + </p> + <p> + "And did my little man cry?" asked mamma. + </p> + <p> + "No, indeed! I stood up big as I could, looked at Daisy and smiled, 'cause + I was so glad it wasn't her." + </p> + <p> + Then that proud and happy mamma took him in her arms and kissed him; and + right in the midst of the kissing in walked Daisy. + </p> + <p> + "Would Tommy please come and take supper with her?" + </p> + <p> + Of course he would, and they walked off hand in hand. When they passed + Dicky's house Tommy suggested. "S'posing they forgive Dick and let him go + 'long too." And Daisy agreeing, they called that young gentleman out and + magnanimously informed him that he was forgiven and might come and have + supper with them. + </p> + <p> + What in the world they had to forgive, nobody knows; but then, so long as + forgiveness proved such an eminently satisfactory arrangement, all round—why, + nobody need care. + </p> + <p> + The children waited outside the gate while Dick coaxed his mother to let + him go, and standing there, hand in hand, Daisy plucked up heart of grace + and with very rosy cheeks and an air about her of general penitence, said + something very sweet in a very small voice: + </p> + <p> + "I'm sorry you were whipped, and oh, Tommy, I wish I hadn't said you'd + holler!" + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mrs. AMY TERESE POWELSON. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Baby thinks it fine, + In the summer-time, + To wade in the brook clear and bright. + But a big green frog + Jumped off of a log, + And gave + Baby Charlotte + quite a fright. +</pre> + <p> + THE THREE FISHERS. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Three fishers went sailing away to the West— + Away to the West as the sun went down; + Each thought on the woman who loved him best, + And the children stood watching them out of the town; + For men must work, and women must weep, + And there's little to earn and many to keep, + Though the harbor-bar be moaning. + + Three wives sat up in the light-house tower + And trimmed the lamps as the sun went down; + They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, + And the night-wrack came rolling up, ragged and brown. + But men must work and women must weep, + Though storms be sudden and waters deep, + And the harbor-bar be moaning. + + Three corpses lay out on the shining sands + In the morning gleam as the tide went down, + And the women are weeping and wringing their hands, + For those who will never come back to the town; + For men must work, and women must weep— + And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep— + And good-by to the bar and its moaning. + + CHARLES KINGSLEY. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Lion with your shaggy mane, + Tell me, are you wild or tame? + On little boys do you like to sup, + If I come near, will you eat me up? +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + "APPLES FINKEY"—THE WATER-BOY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Apples Finkey!" Many a name + Has a grander sound in the roll of fame; + + Many a more resplendent deed + Has burst to light in the hour of need; + + But never a one from a truer heart, + Striving to know and to do its part. + + Striving, under his skin of tan, + With the years of a lad to act like a man. + + And who was "Apples?" I hear you ask. + To trace his descent were indeed a task. + + Winding and vague was the family road— + And, perhaps, like Topsy, "he only growed." + + But into the camp he lolled one noon, + Barefoot, and whistling a darky tune, + + Into the camp of his dusky peers— + The gallant negro cavaliers— + + The Tenth, preparing, at break o' day, + To move to the transport down in the bay. + + Boom! roared the gun—the ship swung free, + With her good prow turned to the Carib Sea. + + "Pity it was, for the little cuss, + We couldn't take 'Apples' along with us," + + The trooper said, as he walked the deck, + And Tampa became a vanishing speck. + + What's that? A stir and a creak down there + In the piled-up freight—then a tuft of hair, + + Crinkled and woolly and unshorn— + And out popped "Apples" "ez shore's yer born!" + + Of course he wasn't provided for + In the colonel's roll or the rules of war; + + But somehow or other the troop was glad + To welcome the little darky lad. + + You know how our brave men, white and black, + Landed and followed the Spaniard's track; + + And the Tenth was there in the very front, + Seeking and finding the battle's brunt. + + Onward they moved through the living hell + Where the enemy's bullets like raindrops fell, + + Down through the brush, and onward still + Till they came to the foot of San Juan hill— + + Then up they went, with never a fear, + And the heights were won with a mad, wild cheer! + + And where was "the mascot Finkey" then? + In the surging ranks of the fighting men! + + Wherever a trooper was seen to fall, + In the open field or the chaparral; + + Wherever was found a wounded man; + "Apples" was there with his water and can. + + About him the shrapnel burst in vain— + He was up and on with his work again. + + The sharpshooters rattled a sharp tattoo, + The singing mausers around him flew. + + But "Apples" was busy—too busy to care + For the instant death and the danger there. + + Many a parched throat burning hot, + Many a victim of Spanish shot, + + Was blessed that day; ere the fight was won + Under the tropical, deadly sun, + + By the cool drops poured from the water-can + Of the dusky lad who was all a man. + + In the forward trenches, at close of day, + Burning with fever, "Finkey" lay. + + He seemed to think through the long, wet night, + He still was out in the raging fight, + + For once he spoke in his troubled sleep; + "I'se comin', Cap., ef my legs'll keep!" + + Next day—and the next—and the next—he stayed + In the trenches dug by the Spaniard's spade, + + For the sick and wounded could not get back + Over the mountainous, muddy track. + + But the troopers gave what they had to give + That the little mascot might stick and live. + + Over him many a dark face bent, + And through it all he was well content— + + Well content as a soldier should + Who had fought his fight and the foe withstood. + + Slowly these stern beleaguered men + Nursed him back to his strength again, + + Till one fair day his glad eyes saw + A sight that filled him with pride and awe, + + For there, as he looked on the stronghold down, + The flag was hoisted over the town, + + And none in that host felt a sweeter joy + Than "Apples Finkey," the water-boy. + —JOHN JEROME ROONEY, in New York Sun. + + Down at the pond in zero weather, + To have a fine skate + the girls and boys gather. + Even the Baby thinks it a treat, + But somehow cannot stay upon his feet. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tom, Tom, the piper's son, + Stole a pig and away he run! + The pig was eat, + And Tom was beat, + And Tom went roaring down the street. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. + </h2> + <p> + "I thought, Mr. Allen, when I gave my Bennie to his country, that not a + father in all this broad land made so precious a gift—no, not one. + The dear boy only slept a minute, just one little minute at his post; I + know that was all, for Bennie never dozed over a duty. How prompt and + reliable he was! I know he only fell asleep one little second—he was + so young and not strong, that boy of mine. Why, he was as tall as I, and + only eighteen! And now they shoot him because he was found asleep when + doing sentinel duty. "Twenty-four hours," the telegram said, only + twenty-fours hours. Where is Bennie now?" + </p> + <p> + "We will hope with his heavenly Father," said Mr. Allen soothingly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes; let us hope; God is very merciful! 'I should be ashamed, + father,' Bennie said, 'when I am a man to think I never used this great + right arm'—and he held it out proudly before me—'for my + country when it needed it. Palsy it, rather than keep it at the plow.' + 'Go, then, my boy, and God keep you!' I said. God has kept him, I think, + Mr. Allen!" And the farmer repeated these last words slowly, as if in + spite of his reason his heart doubted them. + </p> + <p> + "Like the apple of the eye, Mr. Owen; doubt it not." + </p> + <p> + Blossom sat near them listening with blanched cheek. She had not shed a + tear. Her anxiety had been so concealed that no one had noticed it. She + had occupied herself mechanically in the household cares. Now, she + answered a gentle tap at the door, opening it to receive from a neighbor's + hand a letter. "It is from him," was all she said. + </p> + <p> + It was like a message from the dead! Mr. Owen took the letter, but could + not break the envelope on account of his trembling fingers, and held it + toward Mr. Allen, with the helplessness of a child. The minister opened it + and read as follows: + </p> + <p> + "Dear Father:—When this reaches you I shall be in eternity. At first + it seemed awful to me, but I have thought so much about it that now it has + no terror. They say they will not bind me, nor blind me, but that I may + meet death like a man. I thought, father, that it might have been on the + battle field, for my country, and that when I fell, it would be fighting + gloriously; but to be shot down like a dog for nearly betraying it—to + die for neglect of duty! O, father! I wonder the very thought does not + kill me! But I shall not disgrace you; I am going to write you all about + it, and when I am gone you may tell my comrades. I cannot, now. + </p> + <p> + "You know I promised Jemmie Carr's mother I would look after her boy; and + when he fell sick I did all I could for him. He was not strong when he was + ordered back into the ranks, and the day before that night, I carried all + his luggage besides my own on our march. Towards night we went in on + double quick, and though the luggage began to feel very heavy, everybody + else was tired, too; and as for Jemmie, if I had not lent him an arm now + and then he would have dropped by the way. I was all tired out when we + came into camp, and then it was Jemmie's turn to be sentry. I would take + his place; but I was too tired, father. I could not have kept awake if a + gun had been pointed at my head; but I did not know it until—well, + until it was too late." + </p> + <p> + "God be thanked" interrupted Mr. Owen, reverently, "I knew Bennie was not + the boy to sleep carelessly at his post." + </p> + <p> + "They tell me to-day that I have a short reprieve, 'time to write to you,' + the good Colonel says. Forgive him, Father, he only does his duty; he + would gladly save me if he could; and do not lay my death against Jemmie. + The poor boy is heart-broken, and does nothing but beg and entreat them to + let him die in my place. + </p> + <p> + "I can't bear to think of mother and Blossom. Comfort them, Father! Tell + them I die as a brave boy should, and that, when the war is over, they + will not be ashamed of me, as they must be now. God help me! It is very + hard to bear! Good-bye, father, God seems near and dear to me; not at all + as if he wished me to perish forever, but as if he felt sorry for his poor + sinful, broken-hearted child, and would take me to be with him and my + Savior in a better life." + </p> + <p> + A deep sigh burst from Mr. Owen's heart. "Amen," he said, solemnly, + "amen." + </p> + <p> + "To-night, in the early twilight, I shall see the cows all coming home + from the pasture, and precious little Blossom standing on the back stoop, + waiting for me! But I shall never, never come! God bless you all! Forgive + your poor Bennie!" + </p> + <p> + Late that night the door of the "back stoop" opened softly and a little + figure glided out and down the footpath that led to the road by the mill. + She seemed rather flying than walking, turning her head neither to the + right nor left, looking only now and then to heaven, and folding her hands + is if in prayer. Two hours later the same young girl stood at the mill + depot, watching the coming of the night train; and the conductor, as he + reached down to lift her into the car, wondered at the tear-stained face + that was upturned toward the dim lantern he held in his hand. A few + questions and ready answers told him all; and no father could have cared + more tenderly for his only child than he for our little Blossom. She was + on her way to Washington to ask President Lincoln for her brother's life. + She had stolen away, leaving only a note to tell them where and why she + had gone. + </p> + <p> + She had brought Bennie's letter with her; no good, kind heart like the + President's could refuse to be melted by it. The next morning they reached + New York, and the conductor hurried her on to Washington. Every minute, + now, might be the means of saving her brother's life. And so, in an + incredibly short time, Blossom reached the Capitol and hastened to the + White House. + </p> + <p> + The president had just seated himself to his morning task of overlooking + and signing important papers, when without one word of announcement the + door softly opened, and Blossom, with down-cast eyes and folded hands, + stood before him. + </p> + <p> + "Well, my child," he said in his pleasant, cheerful tones, "what do you + want so bright and early this morning?" + </p> + <p> + "Bennie's life, sir," faltered Blossom. + </p> + <p> + "Who is Bennie?" + </p> + <p> + "My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for sleeping at his post." + </p> + <p> + "O, yes," and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the papers before him. "I + remember. It was a fatal sleep. You see, my child, it was a time of + special danger. Thousands of lives might have been lost by his culpable + negligence." + </p> + <p> + "So my father said," replied Blossom, gravely. "But poor Bennie was so + tired, sir, and Jemmie so weak. He did the work of two, sir, and it was + Jemmie's night, not his; but Jemmie was too tired, and Bennie never + thought about himself that he was tired too." + </p> + <p> + "What is this you say, child? Come here, I do not understand," and the + kind man caught eagerly as ever at what seemed to be a justification of + the offense. + </p> + <p> + Blossom went to him; he put his hand tenderly on her shoulder and turned + up the pale face toward his. How tall he seemed! And he was the President + of the United States, too! A dim thought of this kind passed for a minute + through Blossom's mind, but she told her simple, straightforward story and + handed Mr. Lincoln Bennie's letter to read. + </p> + <p> + He read it carefully; then taking up his pen, wrote a few hasty lines, and + rang his bell. + </p> + <p> + Blossom heard this order: "Send this dispatch at once!" + </p> + <p> + The President then turned to the girl and said: "Go home, my child, and + tell that father of yours, who could approve his country's sentence even + when it took the life of a child like that, that Abraham Lincoln thinks + the life far too precious to be lost. Go back, or—wait until + tomorrow. Bennie will need a change after he has so bravely faced death; + he shall go with you." + </p> + <p> + "God bless you, sir!" said Blossom; and who shall doubt that God heard and + registered the request? + </p> + <p> + Two days after this interview, the young soldier came to the White House + with his little sister. He was called into the President's private room + and a strap fastened upon his shoulder. Mr. Lincoln then said: "The + soldier that could carry a sick comrade's baggage and die for the act so + uncomplainingly deserves well of his country." Then Bennie and Blossom + took their way to their Green Mountain home. A crowd gathered at the mill + depot to welcome them back; and as Farmer Owen's hand grasped that of the + boy, tears flowed down his cheeks, and he was heard to say fervently: + </p> + <p> + "The Lord be praised!" + </p> + <p> + —From the New York Observer + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If I had a horse I would call him "Gay," + Feed and curry him well every day, + Hitch him up in my cart and take a ride, + With Baby Brother tucked in at my side. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LITTLE BROWN THRUSHES. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little brown thrushes at sunrise in summer + After the May-flowers have faded away, + Warble to show unto every new-comer + How to hush stars, yet to waken the Day: + Singing first, lullabies, then, jubilates, + Watching the blue sky where every bird's heart is; + Then, as lamenting the day's fading light, + Down through the twilight, when wearied with flight, + Singing divinely, they breathe out, "good-night!" + + Little brown thrushes with birds yellow-breasted + Bright as the sunshine that June roses bring, + Climb up and carol o'er hills silver-crested + Just as the bluebirds do in the spring, + Seeing the bees and the butterflies ranging, + Pointed-winged swallows their sharp shadows changing; + But while some sunset is flooding the sky, + Up through the glory the brown thrushes fly, + Singing divinely, "good-night and good-by!" + BY Mrs. WHITON-STONE. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This tall Giraffe, + Measures ten feet and a half, + And I wonder if his neck + Of rubber is made. + Out of the sun + He thinks he has run + But only his feet + Are in the shade. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE STORY OF THE EMPTY SLEEVE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Here, sit ye down alongside of me; I'm getting old and gray; + But something in the paper, boy, has riled my blood today. + To steal a purse is mean enough, the most of men agree; + But stealing reputation seems a meaner thing to me. + + A letter in the Herald says some generals allow + That there wa'n't no fight where Lookout rears aloft its shaggy + brow; + But this coat sleeve swinging empty here beside me, boy, to-day, + Tells a mighty different story in a mighty different way. + + When sunbeams flashed o'er Mission Ridge that bright November + morn, + The misty cap on Lookout's crest gave token of a storm; + For grim King Death had draped the mount in grayish, smoky + shrouds— + Its craggy peaks were lost to sight above the fleecy clouds. + + Just at the mountain's rocky base we formed in serried lines, + While lightning with its jagged edge played on us from the pines; + The mission ours to storm the pits 'neath Lookout's crest that + lay; + We stormed the very "gates of hell" with "Fighting Joe" that day. + + The mountain seemed to vomit flames; the boom of heavy guns + Played to Dixie's music, while a treble played the drums: + The eagles waking from their sleep, looked down upon the stars + Slow climbing up the mountain side, with morning's broken bars. + + We kept our eyes upon the flag that upward led the way + Until we lost it in the smoke on Lookout side that day; + And then like demons loosed from hell we clambered up the crag, + "Excelsior," our motto, and our mission, "Save the flag." + + In answer to the rebel yell we gave a ringing cheer; + We left the rifle-pits behind, the crest loomed upward near; + A light wind playing 'long the peaks just lifted death's gray + shroud; + We caught the gleam of silver stars just breaking through the + cloud. + + A shattered arm hung at my side that day on Lookout's crag, + And yet I'd give the other now to save the dear old flag. + The regimental roll when called on Lookout's crest that night + Was more than doubled by the roll Death called in realms of + light. + + Just as the sun sank slowly down behind the mountain's crest, + When mountain peaks gave back the fire that flamed along the + west, + Swift riding down along the ridge upon a charger white, + Came "Fighting Joe," the hero now of Lookout's famous fight. + He swung his cap as tears of joy slow trickled down his cheek, + And as our cheering died away, the general tried to speak. + + He said, "Boys, I'll court-martial you, yes, every man that's + here; + I said to take the rifle pits," we stopped him with a cheer, + "I said to take the rifle pits upon the mountain's edge, + And I'll court-martial you because—because you took the ridge" + + Then such a laugh as swept the ridge where late King Death had + strode! + And such a cheer as rent the skies, as down our lines he rode! + I'm getting old and feeble, I've not long to live, I know, + But there WAS A FIGHT AT LOOKOUT. I was there with "Fighting + Joe." + + So these generals in the Herald, they may reckon and allow + That there warn't no fight at Lookout on the mountain's shaggy + brow, + But this empty coat-sleeve swinging here beside me, boy, to-day + Tells a mighty different tale in a mighty different way. + R. L. CARY, JR. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A race! A race! Which will win, + Thin little Harold or chubby Jim? + Surely not Harold for there he goes + Down so flat + he bumps his nose, + While Jimmy stops short. + The fat little elf, + Says he can't run a race + all by himself. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FACING THE WORLD. + </h2> + <p> + "Glad I am, mother, the holidays are over. It's quite different going back + to school again when one goes to be captain—as I'm sure to be. Isn't + it jolly?" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boyd's face as she smiled back at Donald was not exactly "jolly." + Still, she did smile; and then there came out the strong likeness often + seen between mother and son, even when, as in this case, the features were + very dissimilar. Mrs. Boyd was a pretty, delicate little English woman: + and Donald took after his father, a big, brawny Scotsman, certainly not + pretty, and not always sweet. Poor man! he had of late years had only too + much to make him sour. + </p> + <p> + Though she tried to smile and succeeded, the tears were in Mrs. Boyd's + eyes, and her mouth was quivering. But she set it tightly together, and + then she looked more than ever like her son, or rather, her son looked + like her. + </p> + <p> + He was too eager in his delight to notice her much. "It is jolly, isn't + it, mother? I never thought I'd get to the top of the school at all, for + I'm not near so clever as some of the fellows. But now I've got my place; + and I like it, and I mean to keep it; you'll be pleased at that, mother?" + </p> + <p> + "I should have been if—if—" Mrs. Boyd tried to get the words + out and failed, closed her eyes as tight as her mouth for a minute, then + opened them and looked her boy in the face gravely and sadly. + </p> + <p> + "It goes to my heart to tell you—I have been waiting to say it all + morning, but, Donald, my dear, you will never go back to school at all." + </p> + <p> + "Not go back; when I'm captain! why, you and father both said that if I + got to be that, I should not stop till I was seventeen—and now I'm + only fifteen and a half. O, mother, you don't mean it! Father couldn't + break his word! I may go back!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boyd shook her head sadly, and then explained as briefly and calmly + as she could the heavy blow which had fallen upon the father, and, indeed, + upon the whole family. Mr. Boyd had long been troubled with his eyes, + about as serious a trouble as could have befallen a man in his profession—an + accountant—as they call it in Scotland. Lately he had made some + serious blunders in his arithmetic, and his eyesight was so weak that his + wife persuaded him to consult a first-rate Edinburgh oculist, whose + opinion, given only yesterday, after many days of anxious suspense, was + that in a few months he would become incurably blind. + </p> + <p> + "Blind, poor father blind!" Donald put his hand before his own eyes. He + was too big a boy to cry, or at any rate, to be seen crying, but it was + with a choking voice that he spoke next: "I'll be his eyes; I'm old + enough." + </p> + <p> + "Yes; in many ways you are, my son," said Mrs. Boyd, who had had a day and + a night to face her sorrow, and knew she must do so calmly. "But you are + not old enough to manage the business; your father will require to take a + partner immediately, which will reduce our income one-half. Therefore we + cannot possibly afford to send you to school again. The little ones must + go, they are not nearly educated yet, but you are. You will have to face + the world and earn your own living, as soon as ever you can. My poor boy!" + </p> + <p> + "Don't call me poor, mother. I've got you and father and the rest. And, as + you say, I've had a good education so far. And I'm fifteen and a half, no, + fifteen and three-quarters—almost a man. I'm not afraid." + </p> + <p> + "Nor I," said his mother, who had waited a full minute before Donald could + find voice to say all this, and it was at last stammered out awkwardly and + at random. "No; I am not afraid because my boy has to earn his bread; I + had earned mine for years as a governess when father married me. I began + work before I was sixteen. My son will have to do the same, that is all." + </p> + <p> + That day the mother and son spoke no more together. It was as much as they + could do to bear their trouble, without talking about it, and besides, + Donald was not a boy to "make a fuss" over things. He could meet sorrow + when it came, that is, the little of it he had ever known, but he disliked + speaking of it, and perhaps he was right. + </p> + <p> + So he just "made himself scarce" till bedtime, and never said a word to + anybody until his mother came into the boys' room to bid them good-night. + There were three of them, but all were asleep except Donald. As his mother + bent down to kiss him, he put both arms round her neck. + </p> + <p> + "Mother, I'm going to begin to-morrow." + </p> + <p> + "Begin what, my son?" + </p> + <p> + "Facing the world, as you said I must. I can't go to school again, so I + mean to try and earn my own living." + </p> + <p> + "How?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't quite know, but I'll try. There are several things I could be, a + clerk—or even a message-boy. I shouldn't like it, but I'd do + anything rather than do nothing." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boyd sat down on the side of the bed. If she felt inclined to cry she + had too much sense to show it. She only took firm hold of her boy's hand, + and waited for him to speak on. + </p> + <p> + "I've been thinking, mother, I was to have a new suit at Christmas; will + you give it now? And let it be a coat, not a jacket. I'm tall enough—five + feet seven last month, and growing still; I should look almost a man. Then + I would go round to every office in Edinburgh and ask if they wanted a + clerk. I wouldn't mind taking anything to begin with. And I can write a + decent hand, and I'm not bad at figures; as for my Latin and Greek—" + </p> + <p> + Here Donald gulped down a sigh, for he was a capital classic, and it had + been suggested that he should go to Glasgow University and try for "the + Snell" which has sent so many clever young Scotsmen to Balliol College, + Oxford, and thence on to fame and prosperity. But alas! no college career + was now possible to Donald Boyd. The best he could hope for was to earn a + few shillings a week as a common clerk. He knew this, and so did his + mother. But they never complained. It was no fault of theirs, nor of + anybody's. It was just as they devoutly called it, "The will of God." + </p> + <p> + "Your Latin and Greek may come in some day, my boy," said Mrs. Boyd + cheerfully. "Good work is never lost. In the meantime, your plan is a good + one, and you shall have your new clothes at once. Then, do as you think + best." + </p> + <p> + "All right; good-night, mother," said Donald, and in five minutes more was + fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + But, though he was much given to sleeping of nights—indeed, he never + remembered lying awake for a single hour in his life—during daytime + there never was a more "wide awake" boy than Donald Boyd. He kept his eyes + open to everything, and never let the "golden minute" slip by him. He + never idled about—play he didn't consider idling (nor do I). And I + am bound to confess that every day until the new clothes came home was + scrupulously spent in cricket, football, and all the other amusements + which he was as good at as he was at his lessons. He wanted "to make the + best of his holidays," he said, knowing well that for him holiday time as + well as school time was now done, and the work of the world had begun in + earnest. + </p> + <p> + The clothes came home on Saturday night, and he went to church in them on + Sunday, to his little sister's great admiration. Still greater was their + wonder when, on Monday morning, he appeared in the same suit, looking + quite a man, as they unanimously agreed, and almost before breakfast was + done, started off, not saying a word of where he was going. + </p> + <p> + He did not come back till the younger ones were all away to bed, so there + was no one to question him, which was fortunate, for they might not have + got very smooth answers. His mother saw this, and she also forbore. She + was not surprised that the bright, brave face of the morning looked dull + and tired, and that evidently Donald had no good news of the day to tell + her. + </p> + <p> + "I think I'll go to bed," was all he said. "Mother, will you give me a + 'piece' in my pocket to-morrow? One can walk better when one isn't so + desperately hungry." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, my boy." She kissed him, saw that he was warmed and fed—he had + evidently been on his legs the whole day—then sent him off to his + bed, where she soon heard him delightfully snoring, oblivious of all his + cares. + </p> + <p> + The same thing went on day after day, for seven days. Sometimes he told + his mother what had happened to him and where he had been, sometimes not; + what was the good of telling? It was always the same story. Nobody wanted + a boy or a man, for Donald, trusting to his inches and his coat, had + applied for man's work also, but in vain. Mrs. Boyd was not astonished. + She knew how hard it is to get one's foot into ever so small a corner in + this busy world, where ten are always struggling for the place of one. + Still, she also knew that it never does to give in; that one must leave no + stone unturned if one wishes to get work at all. Also she believed firmly + in an axiom of her youth—"Nothing is denied to well-directed labor." + But it must be real hard "labor," and it must also be "well directed." So, + though her heart ached sorely, as only a mother's can, she never betrayed + it, but each morning sent her boy away with a cheerful face, and each + evening received him with one, which, if less cheerful, was not less + sympathetic, but she never said a word. + </p> + <p> + At the week's end, in fact, on Sunday morning, as they were walking to + church, Donald said to her: "Mother, my new clothes haven't been of the + slightest good. I've been all over Edinburgh, to every place I could think + of—writers' offices, merchants' offices, wharves, railway-stations—but + it's no use. Everybody wants to know where I've been before, and I've been + nowhere except to school. I said I was willing to learn, but nobody will + teach me; they say they can't afford it. It is like keeping a dog, and + barking yourself. Which is only too true," added Donald, with a heavy + sigh. + </p> + <p> + "May be," said Mrs. Boyd. Yet as she looked up at her son—she really + did look up at him, he was so tall—she felt that if his honest, + intelligent face and manly bearing did not win something at last, what was + the world coming to? "My boy," she said, "things are very hard for you, + but not harder than for others. I remember once, when I was only a few + years older than you, finding myself with only half a crown in my pocket. + To be sure it was a whole half-crown, for I had paid every half-penny I + owed that morning, but I had no idea where the next half-crown would come + from. However, it did come. I earned two pounds ten, the very day after + that day." + </p> + <p> + "Did you really, mother?" said Donald, his eyes brightening. "Then I'll go + on. I'll not 'gang awa back to my mither,' as that old gentleman advised + me, who objected to bark himself; a queer, crabbed old fellow he was too, + but he was the only one who asked my name and address. The rest of them—well, + mother, I've stood a good deal these seven days," Donald added, gulping + down something between a "fuff" of wrath and a sob. + </p> + <p> + "I am sure you have, my boy." + </p> + <p> + "But I'll hold on; only you'll have to get my boots mended, and meantime, + I should like to try a new dodge. My bicycle, it lies in the + washing-house; you remember I broke it and you didn't wish it mended, lest + I should break something worse than a wheel, perhaps. It wasn't worth + while risking my life for mere pleasure, but I want my bicycle now for + use. If you let me have it mended, I can go up and down the country for + fifty miles in search of work—to Falkirk, Linlithgow, or even + Glasgow, and I'll cost you nothing for traveling expenses. Isn't that a + bright idea, mother?" + </p> + <p> + She had not the heart to say no, or to suggest that a boy on a bicycle + applying for work was a thing too novel to be eminently successful. But to + get work was at once so essential and so hopeless, that she would not + throw any cold water on Donald's eagerness and pluck. She hoped too, that, + spite of the eccentricity of the notion, some shrewd, kind-hearted + gentleman might have sense enough to see the honest purpose of the poor + lad who had only himself to depend upon. For his father had now fallen + into a state of depression which made all application to him for either + advice or help worse than useless. And as both he and Mrs. Boyd had been + solitary orphans when they were married, there were no near relatives of + any kind to come to the rescue. Donald knew, and his mother knew too, that + he must shift for himself, to sink or swim. + </p> + <p> + So, after two days' rest, which he much needed, the boy went off again "on + his own hook," and his bicycle, which was a degree better than his legs, + he said, as it saves shoe-leather. Also, he was able to come home pretty + regularly at the same hour, which was a great relief to his mother. But he + came home nearly as tired as ever, and with a despondent look which + deepened every day. Evidently it was just the same story; no work to be + had; or if there was work, it was struggled for by a score of fellows, + with age, character, and experience to back them, and Donald had none of + the three. But he had one quality, the root of all success in the end, + dogged perseverance. + </p> + <p> + There is a saying, that we British gain our victories, not because we are + never beaten, but because we never will see that we are beaten, and so go + on fighting till we win. "Never say die," was Donald's word to his mother + night after night. But she knew that those who never SAY die, sometimes DO + die, quite quietly, and she watched with a sore heart her boy growing + thinner and more worn, even though brown as a berry with constant exposure + all day long to wind and weather, for it was now less autumn than winter. + </p> + <p> + After a fortnight, Mrs. Boyd made up her mind that this could not go on + any longer, and said so. "Very well," Donald answered, accepting her + decision as he had been in the habit of doing all his life.—Mrs. + Boyd's children knew very well that whatever her will was, it was sure to + be a just and wise will, herself being the last person she ever thought + of.—"Yes, I'll give in, if you think I ought, for it's only wearing + out myself and my clothes to no good. Only let me have one day more and + I'll go as far as ever I can, perhaps to Dunfermline, or even Glasgow." + </p> + <p> + She would not forbid, and once more she started him off with a cheerful + face in the twilight of the wet October morning, and sat all day long in + the empty house—for the younger ones were now all going to school + again—thinking sorrowfully of her eldest, whose merry school days + were done forever. + </p> + <p> + In the dusk of the afternoon a card was brought up to her, with the + message that an old gentleman was waiting below, wishing to see her. + </p> + <p> + A shudder ran through the poor mother, who, like many another mother, + hated bicycles, and never had an easy mind when Donald was away on his. + The stranger's first word was anything but reassuring. + </p> + <p> + "Beg pardon ma'am, but is your name Boyd, and have you a son called + Donald, who went out on a bicycle this morning?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes! Has anything happened? Tell me quick!" + </p> + <p> + "I'm not aware, ma'am, that anything has happened," said the old + gentleman. "I saw the lad at light this morning. He seemed to be managing + his machine uncommonly well. I met him at the foot of a hill near + Edinburgh Castle. He had got off and was walking; so he saw me, and took + off his cap. I like respect, especially in a young fellow towards an old + one." + </p> + <p> + "Did he know you, for I have not that pleasure?" said Mrs. Boyd, polite, + though puzzled. For the old man did not look quite like a gentleman, and + spoke with the strong accent of an uneducated person, yet he had a kindly + expression, and seemed honest and well-meaning, though decidedly "canny." + </p> + <p> + "I cannot say he knew me, but he remembered me, which was civil of him. + And then I minded the lad as the one that had come to me for work a week + or two ago, and I took his name and address. That's your son's writing?" + he jumbled out and showed a scrap of paper. "It's bona fide, isn't it? + </p> + <p> + "And he really is in search of work? He hasn't run away from home, or been + turned out by his father for misconduct, or anything of that sort? He + isn't a scamp, or a ne'er-do-weel?" + </p> + <p> + "I hope he doesn't look like it," said Mrs. Boyd, proudly. + </p> + <p> + "No, ma'am; you're right, he doesn't. He carries his character in his face + which, maybe, is better than in his pocket. It was that which made me ask + his name and address, though I could do nothing for him." + </p> + <p> + "Then you were the gentleman who told him you couldn't keep a dog and bark + yourself?" said Mrs. Boyd, amused, and just a shade hopeful. + </p> + <p> + "Precisely. Nor can I. It would have been cool impudence in a lad to come + and ask to be taught his work first and then paid for it, if he hadn't + been so very much in earnest that I was rather sorry for him. I'm inclined + to believe, from the talk I had with him at the foot of the brae to-day, + that he is a young dog that would bark with uncommon little teaching. + Material, ma'am, is what we want. I don't care for its being raw material, + if it's only of the right sort. I've made up my mind to try your boy." + </p> + <p> + "Thank God!" + </p> + <p> + "What did you say, ma'am? But—I beg your pardon." + </p> + <p> + For he saw that Mrs. Boyd had quite broken down. In truth, the strain had + been so long and so great that this sudden relief was quite too much for + her. She sobbed heartily. + </p> + <p> + "I ought to beg your pardon," she said at last, "for being so foolish, but + we have had hard times of late." + </p> + <p> + And then, in a few simple words, she told Donald's whole story. + </p> + <p> + The old man listened to it in silence. Sometimes he nodded his head, or + beat his chin on his stout stick as he sat; but he made no comment + whatever, except a brief "Thank you, ma'am." + </p> + <p> + "Now to business," continued he, taking out his watch; "for I'm due at + dinner: and I always keep my appointments, even with myself. I hope your + Donald is a punctual lad?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. He promised to be back by dark, and I am sure he will be. Could you + not wait?" + </p> + <p> + "No. I never wait for anybody; but keep nobody waiting for me. I'm Bethune + & Co., Leith Merchants—practically, old John Bethune, who began + life as a message-boy, and has done pretty well, considering." + </p> + <p> + He had, as Mrs. Boyd was well aware. Bethune & Co. was a name so well + known that she could hardly believe in her boy's good luck in getting into + that house in any capacity whatever. + </p> + <p> + "So all is settled," said Mr. Bethune, rising. "Let him come to me on + Monday morning, and I'll see what he is fit for. He'll have to start at + the very bottom—sweep the office, perhaps—I did it myself once—and + I'll give him—let me see—ten shillings a week to begin with." + </p> + <p> + "'To begin with,'" repeated Mrs. Boyd, gently but firmly; "but he will + soon be worth more. I am sure of that." + </p> + <p> + "Very well. When I see what stuff he is made of, he shall have a rise. But + I never do things at haphazard; and it's easier going up than coming down. + I'm not a benevolent man, Mrs. Boyd, and you need not think it. But I've + fought the world pretty hard myself, and I like to help those that are + fighting it. Good evening. Isn't that your son coming round the corner? + Well, he's back exact to his time, at any rate. Tell him I hope he will be + as punctual on Monday morning. Good evening, ma'am." + </p> + <p> + Now, if this were an imaginary story, I might wind it up by a delightful + denoument of Mr. Bethune's turning out an old friend of the family, or + developing into a new one, and taking such a fancy to Donald that he + immediately gave him a clerkship with a large salary, and the promise of a + partnership on coming of age, or this worthy gentleman should be an + eccentric old bachelor who immediately adopted that wonderful boy and + befriended the whole Boyd family. + </p> + <p> + But neither of these things, nor anything else remarkable, happened in the + real story, which, as it is literally true, though told with certain + necessary disguises, I prefer to keep to as closely as I can. Such + astonishing bits of "luck" do not happen in real life, or happen so rarely + that one inclines, at least, to believe very little in either good or ill + fortune, as a matter of chance. There is always something at the back of + it which furnishes a key to the whole. Practically, a man's lot is of his + own making. He may fail, for a while undeservedly, or he may succeed + undeservedly, but, in the long run, time brings its revenges and its + rewards. + </p> + <p> + As it did to Donald Boyd. He has not been taken into the house of Bethune + & Co., as a partner; and it was long before he became even a clerk—at + least with anything like a high salary. For Mr. Bethune, so far from being + an old bachelor, had a large family to provide for, and was bringing up + several of his sons to his own business, so there was little room for a + stranger. But a young man who deserves to find room generally does find + it, or make it. And though Donald started at the lowest rung of the + ladder, he may climb to the top yet. + </p> + <p> + He had "a fair field, and no favor." Indeed, he neither wished nor asked + favor. He determined to stand on his own feet from the first. He had hard + work and few holidays, made mistakes, found them out and corrected them, + got sharp words and bore them, learnt his own weak points and—not so + easily—his strong ones. Still he did learn them; for, unless you can + trust yourself, be sure nobody else will trust you. + </p> + <p> + This was Donald's great point. HE WAS TRUSTED. People soon found out that + they might trust him; that he always told the truth, and never pretended + to do more than he could do; but that which he could do, they might depend + upon his doing, punctually, accurately, carefully, and never leaving off + till it was done. Therefore, though others might be quicker, sharper, more + "up to things" than he, there was no one so reliable, and it soon got to + be a proverb in the office of Bethune & Co.—and other offices, + too—"If you wish a thing done, go to Boyd." + </p> + <p> + I am bound to say this, for I am painting no imaginary portrait, but + describing an individual who really exists, and who may be met any day + walking about Edinburgh, though his name is not Donald Boyd, and there is + no such firm as Bethune & Co. But the house he does belong to values + the young fellow so highly that there is little doubt he will rise in it, + and rise in every way, probably to the very top of the tree, and tell his + children and grandchildren the story which, in its main features, I have + recorded here, of how he first began facing the world. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We went to the Zoo the Leopard to see, + But found him an unsociable fellow. + He would not look at us or say where he bought + His polka-dot suit of yellow. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ROBERT OF LINCOLN. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Merrily swinging on briar and weed, + Near to the nest of his little dame, + Over the mountain-side or mead, + Robert of Lincoln is telling his name; + Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, + Spink, spank, spink; + Snug and safe in that nest of ours, + Hidden among the summer flowers. + Chee, chee, chee. + + Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed. + Wearing a bright black wedding-coat; + White are his shoulders and white his crest, + Hear him calling his merry note: + Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, + Spink, spank, spink; + Look, what a nice new coat is mine, + Sure there was never a bird so fine. + Chee, chee, chee. + + Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, + Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, + Passing at home a quiet life, + Broods in the grass while her husband sings: + Bob-o'-l ink, bob-o'-link, + Spink, spank, spink; + Brood, kind creatures; you need not fear + Thieves and robbers while I am here. + Chee, chee, chee. + + Modest and shy as a nun is she, + One weak chirp is her only note, + Braggart and prince of braggarts is he, + Pouring boasts from his little throat: + Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, + Spink, spank, spink; + Never was I afraid of man; + Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. + Chee, chee, chee. + + Six white eggs on a bed of hay, + Flecked with purple, a pretty sight! + There as the mother sits all day, + Robert is singing with all his might: + Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, + Spink, spank, spink; + Nice good wife, that never goes out, + Keeping house while I frolic about. + Chee, chee, chee. + + Soon as the-little ones chip the shell + Six wide mouths are open for food; + Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well, + Gathering seed for the hungry brood. + Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, + Spink, spank, spink; + This new life is likely to be + Hard for a gay young fellow like me. + Chee, chee, chee. + + Robert of Lincoln at length is made + Sober with work, and silent with care; + Off is his holiday garment laid, + Half forgotten that merry air, + + Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, + Spink, spank, spink; + Nobody knows but my mate and I + Where our nest and our nestlings lie. + Chee, chee, chee. + + Summer wanes; the children are grown; + Fun and frolic no more he knows; + Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone; + Off he flies, and we sing as he goes: + Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, + Spink, spank, spink; + When you can pipe that merry old strain, + Robert of Lincoln, come back again. + Chee, chee, chee. + + WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Riggity-rig, + Dance a jig, + Dance a Highland Fling; + Dance a Cake-walk, + Give us o Clog, + Or cut a Pigeon's Wing. +</pre> + <p> + U. S. SPELLS US. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My papa's all dressed up to-day; + He never looked so fine; + I thought when I first looked at him + My papa wasn't mine. + + He's got a beautiful new suit + The old one was so old— +It's blue, with buttons, oh, so bright, I guess they must be gold. + + And papa's sort o' glad and sort + O' sad—I wonder why; + And ev'ry time she looks at him + It makes my mamma cry. + + Who's Uncle Sam? My papa says + That he belongs to him; + But papa's joking, 'cause he knows + My uncle's name is Jim. + + My papa just belongs to me + And mamma. And I guess + The folks are blind who cannot see + His buttons marked U. S. + + U. S. spells Us. He's ours—and yet + My mamma can't help cry, + And papa tries to smile at me + And can't—I wonder why. + + ANON. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A dancing Bear came down the street; + The children all ran to see the treat; + Said the keeper: "Now, boys, come pay for your fun; + Give me a penny to buy Bruin a bun." +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + "DIXIE" AND "YANKEE DOODLE." + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I was born 'way down in "Dixie," + Reared beneath the Southern skies, + And they didn't have to teach me + Every "Yankee" to despise. + + I was but a country youngster + When I donned a suit of gray, + When I shouldered my old musket, + And marched forth the "Yanks" to slay. + + Four long years I fought and suffered, + "Dixie" was my battle cry; + "Dixie" always and forever, + Down in "Dixie" let me die. + + And to-night I'm down in "Dixie," + "Dixie" still so grand and true; + But to-night I am appareled + In a uniform of blue. + + And to-night the band is playing; + 'Tis not "Dixie's" strains I hear, + But the strains of "Yankee Doodle" + Ring out strong and clear. + + Long I listen to the music; + By my side a comrade stands; + He's a "Yank" and I'm a "Rebel," + But we grasp each other's hands. + + Here together we united + 'Way down South in "Dixie" stand, + And my comrade whispers softly, + "There's no land like 'Dixie's land.'" + + But my eyes are filled with teardrops, + Tears that make my heart feel glad; + And I whisper to my comrade: + "'Yankee Doodle' ain't so bad." + LAWRENCE PORCHER HEXT. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A game of marbles + We were having one day, + When Baby chanced + to come along that way. + Too little he was + to join our game, + But he pocketed our marbles + just the same. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BAREFOOT BOY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Blessings on thee, little man, + Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan; + With thy turned-up pantaloons, + And thy merry whistled tunes; + With thy red lip, redder still + Kissed by strawberries on the hill; + With the sunshine on thy face, + Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace! + From my heart I give thee joy; + I was once a barefoot boy. + + Prince thou art—the grown-up man + Only is republican. + Let the million-dollared ride! + Barefoot, trudging at his side, + Thou hast more than he can buy, + In the reach of ear and eye: + Outward sunshine, inward joy. + Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! + + O! for boyhood's painless play, + Sleep that wakes in laughing day, + Health that mocks the doctor's rules, + Knowledge never learned of schools: + Of the wild bee's morning chase, + Of the wild flower's time and place, + Flight of fowl, and habitude + Of the tenants of the wood; + How the tortoise bears his shell, + + How the woodchuck digs his cell, + And the ground-mole sinks his well; + How the robin feeds her young, + How the oriole's nest is hung; + Where the whitest lilies blow, + Where the freshest berries grow, + Where the ground-nut trails its vine, + Where the wood grape's clusters shine; + Of the black wasp's cunning way, + Mason of his walls of clay, + And the architectural plans + Of gray hornet artisans! + For, eschewing books and tasks, + Nature answers all he asks; + Hand in hand with her he walks, + Face to face with her he talks + Part and parcel of her joy. + Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! + + O for boyhood's time of June, + Crowding years in one brief moon, + When all things I heard or saw, + Me, their master, waited for! + I was rich in flowers and trees, + Humming-birds and honey-bees; + For my sport the squirrel played, + Plied the snouted mole his spade; + For my taste the blackberry cone + Purpled over hedge and stone; + Laughed the brook for my delight, + Through the day and through the night; + Whispering at the garden wall, + Talked with me from fall to fall; + + Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, + Mine the walnut slopes beyond, + Mine, on bending orchard trees, + Apples of Hesperides! + Still, as my horizon grew, + Larger grew my riches too, + All the world I saw or knew + Seemed a complex Chinese toy, + Fashioned for a barefoot boy! + + O! for festal dainties spread, + Like my bowl of milk and bread, + Pewter spoon and bowl of wood, + On the door-stone, gray and rude! + O'er me, like a regal tent, + Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent: + Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, + Looped in many a wind-swung fold; + While, for music, came the play + Of the pied frogs' orchestra; + And, to light the noisy choir, + Lit the fly his lamp of fire. + I was monarch; pomp and joy + Waited on the barefoot boy. + + Cheerily then, my little man! + Live and laugh as boyhood can; + Though the flinty slopes be hard, + Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, + Every morn shall lead thee through + Fresh baptisms of the dew; + Every evening from thy feet + Shall the cool wind kiss the heat; + + All too soon those feet must hide + In the prison-cells of pride, + Lose the freedom of the sod, + Like a colt's for work be shod, + Made to tread the mills of toil, + Up and down in ceaseless moil: + Happy if their track be found + Never on forbidden ground; + Happy if they sink not in + Quick and treacherous sands of sin. + Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy, + Ere it passes, barefoot boy! + JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gallop, gallop! far away. + Pony and I are going today. + Please get out of our way, + Don't ask us to stay; + We'll both come back + Some sunshiny day. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BABOUSCKA. + </h2> + <p> + If you were a Russian child you would not watch to see Santa Klaus come + down the chimney; but you would stand by the windows to catch a peep at + poor Babouscka as she hurries by. + </p> + <p> + Who is Babouscka? Is she Santa Klaus' wife? + </p> + <p> + No, indeed. She is only a poor little crooked wrinkled old woman, who + comes at Christmas time into everybody's house, who peeps into every + cradle, turns back every coverlid, drops a tear on the baby's white + pillow, and goes away very, very sorrowful. + </p> + <p> + And not only at Christmas time, but through all the cold winter, and + especially in March, when the wind blows loud, and whistles and howls and + dies away like a sigh, the Russian children hear the rustling step of the + Babouscka. She is always in a hurry. One hears her running fast along the + crowded streets and over the quiet country fields. She seems to be out of + breath and tired, yet she hurries on. + </p> + <p> + Whom is she trying to overtake? + </p> + <p> + She scarcely looks at the little children as they press their rosy faces + against the window pane and whisper to each other, "Is the Babouscka + looking for us?" + </p> + <p> + No, she will not stop; only on Christmas eve will she come up-stairs into + the nursery and give each little one a present. You must not think she + leaves handsome gifts such as Santa Klaus brings for you. She does not + bring bicycles to the boys or French dolls to the girls. She does not come + in a gay little sleigh drawn by reindeer, but hobbling along on foot, and + she leans on a crutch. She has her old apron filled with candy and cheap + toys, and the children all love her dearly. They watch to see her come, + and when one hears a rustling, he cries, "Lo! the Babouscka!" then all + others look, but one must turn one's head very quickly or she vanishes. I + never saw her myself. + </p> + <p> + Best of all, she loves little babies, and often, when the tired mothers + sleep, she bends over their cradles, puts her brown, wrinkled face close + down to the pillow and looks very sharply. + </p> + <p> + What is she looking for? + </p> + <p> + Ah, that you can't guess unless you know her sad story. + </p> + <p> + Long, long ago, a great many yesterdays ago, the Babouscka, who was even + then an old woman, was busy sweeping her little hut. She lived in the + coldest corner of cold Russia, and she lived alone in a lonely place where + four wide roads met. These roads were at this time white with snow, for it + was winter time. In the summer, when the fields were full of flowers and + the air full of sunshine and singing birds, Babouscka's home did not seem + so very quiet; but in the winter, with only the snowflakes and the shy + snow-birds and the loud wind for company, the little old woman felt very + cheerless. But she was a busy old woman, and as it was already twilight, + and her home but half swept, she felt in a great hurry to finish her work + before bedtime. You must know the Babouscka was poor and could not afford + to do her work by candle-light. + </p> + <p> + Presently, down the widest and the lonesomest of the white roads, there + appeared a long train of people coming. They were walking slowly, and + seemed to be asking each other questions as to which way they should take. + As the procession came nearer, and finally stopped outside the little hut, + Babouscka was frightened at the splendor. There were Three Kings, with + crowns on their heads, and the jewels on the Kings' breastplates sparkled + like sunlight. Their heavy fur cloaks were white with the falling + snow-flakes, and the queer humpy camels on which they rode looked white as + milk in the snow-storm. The harness on the camels was decorated with gold, + and plates of silver adorned the saddles. The saddle-cloths were of the + richest Eastern stuffs, and all the servants had the dark eyes and hair of + an Eastern people. + </p> + <p> + The slaves carried heavy loads on their backs, and each of the Three Kings + carried a present. One carried a beautiful transparent jar, and in the + fading light Babouscka could see in it a golden liquid which she knew from + its color must be myrrh. Another had in his hand a richly woven bag, and + it seemed to be heavy, as indeed it was, for it was full of gold. The + third had a stone vase in his hand, and from the rich perfume which filled + the snowy air, one could guess the vase to have been filled with incense. + </p> + <p> + Babouscka was terribly frightened, so she hid herself in her hut, and let + the servants knock a long time at her door before she dared open it and + answer their questions as to the road they should take to a far-away town. + You know she had never studied a geography lesson in her life, was old and + stupid and scared. She knew the way across the fields to the nearest + village, but she know nothing else of all the wide world full of cities. + The servants scolded, but the Three Kings spoke kindly to her, and asked + her to accompany them on their journey that she might show them the way as + far as she knew it. They told her, in words so simple that she could not + fail to understand, that they had seen a Star in the sky and were + following it to a little town where a young Child lay. The snow was in the + sky now, and the Star was lost out of sight. + </p> + <p> + "Who is the Child?" asked the old woman. + </p> + <p> + "He is a King, and we go to worship him," they answered. "These presents + of gold, frankincense and myrrh are for Him. When we find Him we will take + the crowns off our heads and lay them at His feet. Come with us, + Babouscka!" + </p> + <p> + What do you suppose? Shouldn't you have thought the poor little woman + would have been glad to leave her desolate home on the plains to accompany + these Kings on their journey? + </p> + <p> + But the foolish woman shook her head. No, the night was dark and + cheerless, and her little home was warm and cosy. She looked up into the + sky, and the Star was nowhere to be seen. Besides, she wanted to put her + hut in order—perhaps she would be ready to go to-morrow. But the + Three Kings could not wait; so when to-morrow's sun rose they were far + ahead on their journey. It seemed like a dream to poor Babouscka, for even + the tracks of the camels' feet were covered by the deep white snow. + Everything was the same as usual; and to make sure that the night's + visitors had not been a fancy, she found her old broom hanging on a peg + behind the door, where she had put it when the servants knocked. + </p> + <p> + Now that the sun was shining, and she remembered the glitter of the gold + and the smell of the sweet gums and myrrh, she wished she had gone with + the travelers. + </p> + <p> + And she thought a great deal about the dear Baby the Three Kings had gone + to worship. She had no children of her own—nobody loved her—ah, + if she had only gone! The more she brooded on the thought, the more + miserable she grew, till the very sight of her home became hateful to her. + </p> + <p> + It is a dreadful feeling to realize that one has lost a chance of + happiness. There is a feeling called remorse that can gnaw like a sharp + little tooth. Babouscka felt this little tooth cut into her heart every + time she remembered the visit of the Three Kings. + </p> + <p> + After a while the thought of the Little Child became her first thought at + waking and her last at night. One day she shut the door of her house + forever, and set out on a long journey. She had no hope of overtaking the + Three Kings, but she longed to find the Child, that she too might love and + worship Him. She asked every one she met, and some people thought her + crazy, but others gave her kind answers. Have you perhaps guessed that the + young Child whom the Three Kings sought was our Lord himself? + </p> + <p> + People told Babouscka how He was born in a manger, and many other things + which you children have learned long ago. These answers puzzled the old + dame mightily. She had but one idea in her ignorant head. The Three Kings + had gone to seek a Baby. She would, if not too late, seek Him too. + </p> + <p> + She forgot, I am sure, how many long years had gone by. She looked in vain + for the Christ-child in His manger-cradle. She spent all her little + savings in toys and candy so as to make friends with little children, that + they might not run away when she came hobbling into their nurseries. + </p> + <p> + Now you know for whom she is sadly seeking when she pushes back the + bed-curtains and bends down over each baby's pillow. Sometimes, when the + old grandmother sits nodding by the fire, and the bigger children sleep in + their beds, old Babouscka comes hobbling into the room, and whispers + softly, "Is the young Child here?" + </p> + <p> + Ah, no; she has come too late, too late. But the little children know her + and love her. Two thousand years ago she lost the chance of finding Him. + Crooked, wrinkled, old, sick and sorry, she yet lives on, looking into + each baby's face—always disappointed, always seeking. Will she find + Him at last? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Come, Bossy, come Bossy! Here I am with my cup, + Come give me some milk, rich and sweet. + I will pay you well with red clover hay, + The nicest you ever did eat. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DAISIES. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Daisies! + + Low in the grass and high in the clover, + Starring the green earth over and over, + Now into white waves tossing and breaking, + Like a foaming sea when the wind is waking, + Now standing upright, tall and slender, + Showing their deep hearts' golden splendor; + Daintily bending, + Airily lending + + Garlands of flowers for earth's adorning, + Fresh with the dew of a summer morning; + High on the slope, low in the hollow, + Where eye can reach or foot can follow, + Shining with innocent fearless faces + Out of the depths of lonely places, + Till the glad heart sings their praises + —Here are the daisies! + The daisies! + + Daisies! + See them ebbing and flowing, + Like tides with the full moon going; + Spreading their generous largess free + For hand to touch and for eye to see; + In dust of the wayside growing, + On rock-ribbed upland blowing, + By meadow brooklets glancing, + On barren fields a-dancing, + Till the world forgets to burrow and grope, + And rises aloft on the wings of hope; + —Oh! of all posies, + Lilies or roses, + Sweetest or fairest, + Richest or rarest, + That earth in its joy to heaven upraises, + Give me the daisies! + + Why? For they glow with the spirit of youth, + Their beautiful eyes have the glory of truth, + Down before all their rich bounty they fling + —Free to the beggar, and free to the king + + Loving they stoop to the lowliest ways, + Joyous they brighten the dreariest days; + Under the fringe of their raiment they hide + Scars the gray winter hath opened so wide; + Freely and brightly— + Who can count lightly + Gifts with such generous ardor proffered, + Tokens of love from such full heart's offered, + Or look without glances of joy and delight + At pastures star-covered from morning till night, + When the sunshiny field ablaze is + With daisies! + + Daisies, + Your praise is, + That you are like maidens, as maidens should be, + Winsome with freshness, and wholesome to see, + Gifted with beauty, and joy to the eye, + Head lifted daintily—yet not too high— + Sweet with humility, radiant with love, + Generous too as the sunshine above, + Swaying with sympathy, tenderly bent + On hiding the scar and on healing the rent, + Innocent-looking the world in the face, + Yet fearless with nature's own innocent grace, + Full of sweet goodness, yet simple in art, + White in the soul, and pure gold in the heart + —Ah, like unto you should all maidenhood be + Gladsome to know, and most gracious to see; + Like you, my daisies! + M. E. B +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sing a song of sixpence, + A pocket full of rye; + Four-and-twenty blackbirds + Baked into a pie. + When the pie was opened + The birds began to sing. + Wasn't that a dainty dish + To set before the King? + + The King was in the parlor + Counting out his money; + The Queen was in the kitchen + Eating bread and honey; + The maid was in the garden + Hanging up the clothes, + There came a little blackbird + And picked off her nose. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DRIVING HOME THE COWS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass, + He turned them into the river lane; + One after another he let them pass, + Then fastened the meadow bars again. + + Along by the willows and over the hill + He patiently followed their sober pace— + The merry whistle for once was still + And something shadowed the sunny face. + + Only a boy, and his father had said + He never could let his youngest go, + Two already were lying dead + Under the feet of the trampling foe. + + But, after the evening work was done, + And the frogs were loud in the meadow swamp, + Over his shoulder he slung his gun + And stealthily followed the footpath damp. + + Across the clover and through the wheat, + With resolute heart and purpose grim, + Though cold was the dew on his hurrying feet, + And the blind bat's flitting startled him. + + Thrice since then have the lanes been white + And the orchards sweet with apple bloom, + And now when the cows came back at night + The feeble father drove them home; + + For news had come to the lonely farm + That three were lying where two had lain, + And the old man's tremulous, palsied arm + Could never lean on a son's again. + + The summer day grew cool and late, + He went for the cows when his work was done, + But down the lane, as he opened the gate, + He saw them coming, one by one. + + Brindle and Ebony, Speckle and Bess, + Tossing their horns in the evening wind, + Cropping the buttercups out of the grass, + But who was it following close behind? + + Loosely swung in the idle air + The empty sleeve of army blue, + And worn and pale through its crisped hair + Looked out a face that the father knew. + + For Southern prisons will sometimes yawn + And yield their dead to life again, + And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn + In golden glory at last may wane. + + The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes, + For the hearts must speak when the lips are dumb, + And under the silent evening skies + Together they followed the cattle home. + + KATE PUTNAM OSGOOD. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To and fro, + See us go! + Up so high, + Down so low; + Now quite fast, + Now real slow. + Singing, + Swinging, + This is the way, + to get + fresh air + In a + pleasant + way. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BABY'S KISS. + </h2> + <h3> + AN INCIDENT OF THE CIVIL WAR. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rough and ready the troopers ride, + Pistol in holster and sword by side; + They have ridden long, they have ridden hard, + They are travel-stained and battle-scarred; + The hard ground shakes with their martial tramp, + And coarse is the laugh of the men of the camp. + + They reach the spot where a mother stands + With a baby shaking its little hands, + Laughing aloud at the gallant sight + Of the mounted soldiers, fresh from the fight. + The captain laughs out, "I will give you this, + A bright piece of gold, your baby to kiss." + + "My darling's kisses cannot be sold, + But gladly he'll kiss a soldier bold." + He lifts up the babe with a manly grace, + And covers with kisses its smiling face. + Its rosy cheeks and its dimpled charms, + And it crows with delight in the soldier's arms. + + "Not all for the captain," the troopers call; + "The baby, we know, has a kiss for all." + To each soldier's breast the baby is pressed + By the strong rough men, and kissed and caressed. + And louder it laughs, and the lady's face + Wears a mother's smile at the fond embrace. + + "Just such a kiss," cried one warrior grim, + "When I left my boy I gave to him;" + "And just such a kiss on the parting day, + I gave to my girl as asleep she lay." + Such were the words of these soldiers brave, + And their eyes were moist when the kiss they gave. + ANON. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?" + "Yes sir, yes sir three bags full; + One for my master and one for my dame, + And one for the little boy who lives in the lane." +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tommy Bangs looks quite smart, + Driving along in his new goat cart, + But Tommy's not one of your selfish boys, + With every baby he shares his joys, + Takes them to ride and lets them drive, + Of course, they like Tommy + The best boy alive. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE LOST DIAMOND SNUFF BOX. + </h2> + <p> + The grand old kingdom of England, in the course of the mossy centuries you + can count over its head, has had its times of gloom and depression at + dangers that looked near, and its times of shouting and rejoicing over + dangers its brave men have driven away quite out of sight again. + </p> + <p> + One of the deepest seasons of gloom was when the French Emperor, Napoleon, + had conquered one country after another, until there was scarcely anything + but England left to attack; and one of the proudest times of rejoicing was + when the "Iron Duke" Wellington, and the bluff old Prussian, Blucher, met + him at Waterloo, defeated his armies and drove him from the field. There + were bonfires, and bell-ringings then, and from that day onward England + loved and cherished every man who had fought at Waterloo—from the + "Duke" himself down to the plainest private, every one was a hero and a + veteran. + </p> + <p> + In one of the humblest houses of a proud nobleman's estate, a low, + whitewashed cottage, one of these veterans lived not so very many years + ago. He had fought by his flag in one of the most gallant regiments until + the last hour of the battle, and then had fallen disabled from active + service for the rest of his life. + </p> + <p> + That did not seem to be of so very great consequence though, just now; for + peace reigned in the land, and with his wife and two beautiful daughters + to love, his battles to think over, and his pension to provide the bread + and coffee, the old soldier was as happy as the day was long. It made no + difference that the bread and the coffee were both black, and the clothes + of the veteran were coarse and seldom new. + </p> + <p> + "Ho, Peggy!" he used to say to his wife, "my cloak is as fine as the one + the 'Iron Duke' wore when they carried me past him just as the French were + breaking; and as for the bread, only a veteran knows how the recollection + of victory makes everything taste sweet!" + </p> + <p> + But it seemed as if the old soldier's life was going to prove like his + share in that great day at Waterloo—success and victory till the end + had nearly come, and then one shot after another striking him with + troubles, he could never get over. + </p> + <p> + The first came in the midst of the beautiful summer days, when the bees + droned through the delicious air, the rose-bush was in full bloom, and the + old soldier sat in the cottage door reveling in it all. A slow, merciless + fever rose up through the soft air—it did not venture near the high + ground where the castle stood, but it crept noiselessly into the + whitewashed cottage, one night, and the soldier's two daughters were + stricken down. This was the beginning of terrible trouble to the veteran + of Waterloo. Not that he minded watching, for he was used to standing + sentry all night, and as for nursing, he had seen plenty in the hospital; + but to see his daughters suffering—that was what he could not bear! + </p> + <p> + And worst of all, between medicines and necessaries for the sick, the + three months' pension was quite used up, and when the old soldier's + nursing had pulled through the fierceness of the fever, there was nothing + but black bread left in the house—and black bread was almost the + same as no bread at all to the dainty appetities the fever had left; and + that was what he had to think of, and think of, as he sat in the cottage + door. + </p> + <p> + "Bah!" said the old soldier, with something more like a groan than was + ever heard from him while his wounds were being dressed, "I could face all + the armies of Napoleon better than this!" + </p> + <p> + And he sat more and more in the cottage door, as if that could leave the + trouble behind; but it stood staring before him, all the same, till it + almost shut the rosebush and the bees out of sight. But one morning a + tremendous surprise came to him like a flash out of the sky! He heard the + sound of galloping troops, and he pricked up his ears, for that always + made him think of a cavalry charge. + </p> + <p> + "Who goes there?" he cried; but without answering his challenge the sound + came nearer and nearer, and a lackey in full livery dashed up to the door, + and presented him with a note sealed with the blood-red seal of the castle + arms. It was an invitation to dine at the castle with a company of + noblemen and officers of the army. His lordship, who had also fought at + Waterloo, had just learned that a comrade was living on his estate, and + made haste to do him honor, and secure a famous guest for his dinner + party. + </p> + <p> + The old soldier rose up proudly, and gave the lackey a military salute. + </p> + <p> + "Tell his lordship," he said, "that I shall report myself at headquarters, + and present my thanks for the honor he has done me." + </p> + <p> + The lackey galloped off, and the veteran pushed his chair over with his + wooden leg, and clattered across the cottage floor. + </p> + <p> + "Ho, Peggy!" he cried, "did I not say that luck comes and trouble flies if + you only face the enemy long enough? This is the beginning of good things, + I tell you! A hero of Waterloo, and fit to dine with lords and generals, + will certainly have other good fortune coming to him, till he can keep his + wife and daughters like princesses. Just wait a bit and you shall see!" + and he turned hastily away, for his heart came up in his throat so that he + could not speak. + </p> + <p> + All the rest of that day he sat in the door, brushing and darning and + polishing his stained uniform. It had lain abandoned on the shelf for many + a year, but before night every button was shining like gold, the scarlet + cloth was almost fresh once more, and the old soldier, wrapped in his + faithful cloak, was making his way joyfully across the heathery moors to + the castle quite at the other side. + </p> + <p> + But when he had fairly reached it, and the servant had shown him into the + drawing-room, his heart almost failed him for a moment. Such splendor he + had never seen before—a thousandth part would have bought health and + happiness for the dear ones he had left with only his brave goodbye and a + fresh rose-bud to comfort them! + </p> + <p> + However, what with the beautiful ladies of the castle gathering round him + to ask questions about the battle, and with a seat near his lordship's + right hand at dinner, he soon plucked up again, and began to realize how + delightful everything was. But that was the very thing that almost spoiled + the whole again, for when he saw his plate covered with luxuries and + delicacies more than he could possibly eat, the thought of the black bread + he had left at the cottage brought the tears rushing to his eyes. + </p> + <p> + But, "Tut!" he said to himself in great dismay, "what an ungrateful + poltroon his lordship will think he has brought here!" and he managed to + brush them off while no one was looking. + </p> + <p> + It was delicious, though, in spite of everything, and after a while the + wine began to flow—that warmed his very heart—and then he + heard his lordship calling to a servant to bring him something from his + private desk, saying: + </p> + <p> + "Gentlemen, I am about to show you the proudest treasure I possess. This + diamond snuff-box was presented to me by the stout old Blucher himself, in + remembrance of service I was able to perform at Waterloo. Not that I was a + whit worthier of it than the brave fellows under my command—understand + that!" + </p> + <p> + How the diamonds glistened and gleamed as the box was passed from hand to + hand! As if the thickest cluster of stars you ever saw, could shine out in + the midst of a yellow sunset sky, and the colors of the rainbow could + twinkle through them at the same time! It was superb, but then that was + nothing compared to the glory of receiving it from Blucher! + </p> + <p> + Then there was more wine and story-telling, and at last some asked to look + at the snuff-box again. + </p> + <p> + "Has any one the snuff-box at present?" asked his lordship, rather + anxiously, for as he turned to reach it no snuff-box was to be seen. + </p> + <p> + No one said "yes," for everyone was sure he had passed it to his neighbor, + and they searched up and down the table with consternation in their faces, + for the snuff-box could not have disappeared without hands, but to say so + was to touch the honor of gentlemen and soldiers. + </p> + <p> + At last one of the most famous officers rose from his seat: + </p> + <p> + "My lord," he said, "a very unlucky accident must have occurred here. Some + one of us must have slipped the box into his pocket unconsciously, + mistaking it for his own. I will take the lead in searching mine, if the + rest of the company will follow!" + </p> + <p> + "Agreed!" said the rest, and each guest in turn went to the bottom of one + pocket after another, but still no snuff-box, and the distress of the + company increased. The old soldier's turn came last, and with it came the + surprise. With burning cheeks and arms folded closely across his breast he + stood up and confronted the company like a stag at bay. + </p> + <p> + "No!" he exclaimed, "no one shall search my pockets! Would you doubt the + honor of a soldier?" + </p> + <p> + "But we have all done so," said the rest, "and every one knows it is the + merest accident at the most." But the old soldier only held his arms the + tighter, while the color grew deeper in his face. In his perplexity his + lordship thought of another expedient. + </p> + <p> + "We will try another way, gentlemen," he said, "I will order a basket of + bran to be brought, and propose that each one in turn shall thrust his + hand into the bran. No one shall look on, and if we find the box at last, + no one can guess whose hand placed it there." + </p> + <p> + It was quickly done, and hand after hand was thrust in, until at last came + the old soldier's turn once more. But he was nowhere to be seen. + </p> + <p> + Then, at last the indignation of the company broke forth. + </p> + <p> + "A soldier, and a hero of Waterloo, and willing to be a thief!" and with + their distress about the affair, and his lordship's grief at his loss, the + evening was entirely spoiled. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the old soldier, with his faithful cloak wrapped closely round + him once more, was fighting his way through the sharp winds and over the + moors again. But a battle against something a thousand times sharper and + colder was going on in his breast. + </p> + <p> + "A thief!" he was saying over and over to himself, "me, who fought close + to the side of the 'Iron Duke'! And yet, can I look one of them in the + face and tell him he lies?" + </p> + <p> + The walk that had been gone over so merrily was a terrible one to retrace, + and when the cottage was reached, instead of the pride and good luck the + poor invalids had been watching for, a gloom deadlier than the fever + followed him in. He sat in the doorway as he used, but sometimes he hung + his head on his breast, and sometimes started up and walked proudly about, + crying— + </p> + <p> + "Peggy! I say no one shall call me a thief! I am a soldier of the Iron + Duke!" + </p> + <p> + But they did call him a thief, though, for a very strange thing, after his + lordship had sorrowfully ordered the cottage and little garden spot to be + searched no box was found, and the gloom and the mystery grew deeper + together. + </p> + <p> + Good nursing could not balance against trouble like this; the beautiful + daughters faded and died, the house was too gloomy to stay inside, and if + he escaped to the door, he had to hear the passers say— + </p> + <p> + "There sits the soldier who stole the Blucher diamonds from his host!" + </p> + <p> + And as if this was not enough, one day the sound of hoofs was heard again, + and a rider in uniform clattered up to the door saying: + </p> + <p> + "Comrade, I am sent to tell you that your pension is stopped! His Majesty + cannot count a thief any longer a soldier of his!" + </p> + <p> + After this the old soldier hardly held up his head at all, and his hair, + that had kept black as a coal all these years, turned white as the moors + when the winter snows lay on them. + </p> + <p> + "Though that is all the same, Peggy," he used to say, "for it is winter + all the year round with me! If I could only die as the old year does! That + would be the thing!" + </p> + <p> + But long and merciless as the winter is, spring does come at last, if we + can but live and fight our way through the storms and cold. + </p> + <p> + One night a cry of fire roused all the country-side. All but the old + soldier. He heard them say the castle was burning, but what was that to + him? Nothing could burn away the remembrance that he had once been called + a thief within its walls! But the next morning he heard a step—not a + horse's hoof this time, but a strong man walking hastily towards him. + </p> + <p> + "Where is the veteran of Waterloo?" asked his lordship's voice, and when + the old soldier stepped forward, he threw his arms about his neck with + tears and sobs. + </p> + <p> + "Comrade," he said, "come up to the castle! The snuff-box is found, and I + want you to stand in the very room where it was lost while I tell everyone + what a great and sorrowful wrong a brave and honest soldier has suffered + at my hands!" + </p> + <p> + It did not take many words to explain. In the first alarm of fire the + butler had rushed to the plate-closet to save the silver. + </p> + <p> + "Those goblets from the high shelf! Quick!" he said, to the footman who + was helping him, and with the haste about the goblets something else came + tumbling down. + </p> + <p> + "The lost diamond snuff-box!" cried the butler. "That stupid fellow I + dismissed the day it disappeared, must have put it there and forgotten all + about it!" + </p> + <p> + The fire was soon extinguished, but not a wink of sleep could his lordship + get until he could make reparation for the pitiful mistake about the box; + and once more the old soldier made his way across the moors, even the + wooden leg stepping proudly as he went along, though now and then, as the + old feeling came over him, his white head would droop for a moment again. + </p> + <p> + The servants stood aside respectfully as he entered the castle, and they + and the other guests of that unlucky day gathered round him while his + lordship told them how the box had been found and how he could not rest + until forgiven by the brave hero he had so unjustly suspected of wrong. + </p> + <p> + "And now," said the company, "will you not tell us one thing more? Why did + you refuse to empty your pockets, as all the rest were willing to do?" + </p> + <p> + "Because," said the old soldier sorrowfully, "because I WAS a thief, and I + could not bear that anyone should discover it! All whom I loved best in + the world were lying sick at home, starving for want of the delicacies I + could not provide, and I felt as if my heart would break to see my plate + heaped with luxuries while they had not so much as a taste! I thought a + mouthful of what I did not need might save them, and when no one was + looking I slipped some choice bits from my plate between two pieces of + bread and made way with them into my pocket. I could not let them be + discovered for a soldier is too proud to beg, but oh, my lord, he can bear + being called a thief all his life better than he can dine sumptuously + while there is only black bread at home for the sick and weak whom he + loves!" + </p> + <p> + Tears came streaming from the old soldier's listeners by this time, and + each vied with the other in heaping honors and gifts in place of the + disgrace suffered so long; but all that was powerless to make up for the + past. + </p> + <p> + Two good lessons may be learned from the story: Never believe any one + guilty who is not really proved to be so. Never let false shame keep you + from confessing the truth, whether trifling or of importance. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What are the children doing today, + Down on the nursery floor, + That baby laughter and crows of delight + Float through the open door? + Watching Don's top + spinning around, + Making that queer little + whirring sound. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This big Reindeer must have run away + From Santa Claus and his Christmas sleigh. + Do you think if I should take him back + A present I would get out of Santa's pack? +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AMERICAN FLAG. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When freedom from her mountain height + Unfurled her standard to the air, + She tore the azure robe of night, + And set the stars of glory there. + She mingled with its gorgeous dyes + The milky baldric of the skies, + And striped its pure celestial white + With streakings of the morning light; + Then from his mansion in the sun, + She called her eagle bearer down, + And gave into his mighty hand + The symbol of her chosen land. + + Majestic monarch of the cloud, + Who rears't aloft thy regal form, + To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, + And see the lightning-lances driven, + When strive the warriors of the storm, + And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven— + Child of the sun! to thee is given + To guard the banner of the free, + To hover in the sulphur smoke, + To ward away the battle stroke, + And bid its blendings shine afar, + Like rainbows on the cloud of war, + The harbingers of victory! + + Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, + The sign of hope and triumph high, + When speaks the signal trumpet tone, + And the long line comes gleaming on. + Ere yet the life-blood warm and wet + Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, + Each soldier's eyes shall brightly turn + To where thy sky-born glories burn; + And, as his springing steps advance, + Catch war and vengeance from the glance. + And when the cannon's mouthings loud + Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, + And gory sabers rise and fall + Like darts of flame on midnight's pall, + Then shall thy meteor glances glow, + And cowering foes shall sink beneath + Each gallant arm that strikes below + That lovely messenger of death. + + Flag of the seas! On ocean wave + Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave; + When death, careering on the gale, + Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, + And frightened waves rush wildly back + Before the broadside's reeling rack + Each dying wanderer of the sea + Shall look at once to heaven and thee, + And smile to see thy splendors fly + In triumph o'er his closing eye. + + Flag of the free heart's hope and home, + By angel hands to valor given; + Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, + And all thy hues were born in heaven. + Forever float that standard sheet! + Where breathes the foe but falls before us, + With freedom's soil beneath our feet, + And freedom's banner streaming o'er us? + JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We will swing the rope for Baby dear, + So jump, jump, jump! + That you will trip her up I fear, + But jump, jump, jump! + Swing it easy and low, + Steady and slow, + Or down the dear tot will go. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A crafty Fox crept forth one day + And over the hills he scampered away + In search of a fine, fat hen; + But old dog Sport was keeping guard, + When Fox leaped into our chicken yard, + And chased him back to his den. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AUNT POLLY SHEDD'S BRIGADE. + </h2> + <p> + "Something about the Battle of Hampden?" Grandma took off her spectacles + and wiped them reflectively "It seems to me already I have told you + everything worth telling; but there!" in a sudden burst of recollection, + "did I ever tell you about Aunt Polly Shedd's Brigade? That was quite an + affair to those of us that belonged to it!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no! do tell us about it!" called out the three childish voices in + chorus; and Grandma only waited to knit by the seam needle. + </p> + <p> + "I've told you all about it so many times that I don't need to describe + again that dreadful morning when the British man-of-war came up the river + and, dropping her anchor just opposite our little village of Hampden, sent + troops ashore to take possession of the place in the King's name. So what + I am going to tell you now is how, and where, we youngsters spent the + three days that the British occupied our houses. I was about twelve years + old at the time. I remember that it was just as we were getting up from + the breakfast-table that one of our neighbors, Sol Grant, old General + Grant's youngest son, rushed in without knocking, his face as white as a + sheet, and his cap on hind-side before, and called out hurriedly: + </p> + <p> + "'Mr. Swett, if you love your family, for God's sake find a place of + safety for 'em! The British are coming ashore—three boat-loads of + 'em, armed to the teeth—and they won't spare man, woman nor child! + </p> + <p> + "Mother's face grew very pale, but she stepped quietly around, with her + baby on her arm, close to where father was standing, and laid one hand on + his arm, while she said, in a firm, clear voice: + </p> + <p> + "'MY place is with you, Benjamin, but we must think of some place of + safety for the children. Where can they go?' + </p> + <p> + "Sol was just rushing out of the door as unceremoniously as he had rushed + in, but he stopped when he heard her ask that, long enough to say: + </p> + <p> + "'I forgot to tell you that Aunt Polly Shedd will take all the children + put in her charge out to Old Gubtil's; that's so out of the way they won't + be disturbed, 'specially as the old man's a Tory himself.' + </p> + <p> + "Mother kissed us all round, with a smile on her face that couldn't quite + hide the tears with which her dear eyes were filled, and as she hastily + bundled us in whatever garment came to hand, she bade us be good children, + and make Aunt Polly and the Gubtils as little trouble as possible. Then we + followed father out-of-doors and into the school-house yard where a score + or more of children were already gathered—still as mice for intense + terror. Aunt Polly, in her big green calash, and a pillow-case of + valuables under one arm, was bustling to and fro, speaking an encouraging + or admonitory word, as the case might be, and wearing upon her pinched, + freckled little face such a reassuring smile that I soon felt my own + courage rise and, dashing back the tears that had filled my eyes a moment + before, I busied myself in pinning little Sally's blanket more closely + about her neck and setting the faded sunbonnet upon the tangled curls that + had not yet had their customary morning's dressing. + </p> + <p> + "'Come, children,' called out Aunt Polly cheerily, 'you're all here now, + and we'll start right off. I'll go ahead, an' all you little ones had best + keep close to me; the bigger ones can come along behind.' + </p> + <p> + "Obedient to her order we started, following her steps across the road by + the beeches, and up by the grocery store where a crowd of excited men were + congregated, talking loudly with wild gesticulations, while farther down, + toward the shore, we could catch glimpses, through the thick morning fog, + of the blue uniforms of our militia company that had been summoned in hot + haste to defend the town. As we filed past, I remember I heard one of the + men on the grocery steps speak: + </p> + <p> + "'I tell you they won't leave one stone on another if they get possession + of the town, and they'll impress all the able-bodied men and all the big + boys into the King's service besides.' + </p> + <p> + "A cold shiver ran over me and I caught so hard at little Sally's hand + that the child cried out with pain, and Aunt Polly said anxiously: + </p> + <p> + "'Hurry up, dears! 'Tain't much more'n a mile out to Gubtil's, and you'll + have a good nice chance to rest after we get there.' + </p> + <p> + "Just then the martial music of a fife and drum announced the landing of + the enemy's troops, and I tell you it quickened the lagging footsteps of + even the youngest child into a run, and we just flew, helter-skelter, over + the rough, little-used road that led to the Gubtil farm. Aunt Polly's + gentle tones were unheeded. All she could do was to carry the weakest in + her arms over all the worst places, with a word of cheer, now and then, to + some child who was not too much frightened to heed it. + </p> + <p> + "What a haven of safety the low, unpainted old farm-house looked to us, as + we rushed, pell-mell, into the dooryard, never noticing, in our own + relief, the ungracious scowl with which the master and mistress of the + house regarded our advent. + </p> + <p> + "Aunt Polly soon explained matters, taking care to assure the inhospitable + pair that our parents would amply recompense them for the trouble and + expense we must, of course, be to them. + </p> + <p> + "The farmer held a whispered consultation with his wife, and I remember + well his harsh, loud tones as he came back to Aunt Polly: + </p> + <p> + "'They'll HAVE to stay, I s'pose; there don't seem no help for it now. + There's pertaters in the cellar, an' they can roast an' eat what they + want. I'll give 'em salt an' what milk an' brown bread they want, an' + that's what they'll have to live on for the present. As for housin' 'em, + the boys can sleep on the hay in the barn, an' the girls can camp down on + rugs an' comforters on the kitchen floor, that's the best I can do, an' if + they ain't satisfied they can go furder.' + </p> + <p> + "I remember just how he looked down at the troubled, childish faces + upturned to his own, as if half hoping we might conclude to wander yet + farther away from our imperilled homes; but Aunt Polly hastened to answer: + </p> + <p> + "'Oh, we'll get along nicely with milk for the little ones, and potatoes + and salt for the big boys and girls, and we won't trouble you any more nor + any longer than we can help, Mr. Gubtil.' + </p> + <p> + "She stood upon the door-stone beside him as she spoke, a little, bent, + slightly deformed figure, with a face shrivelled and faded like a + winter-russet apple in spring-time, and a dress patched and darned till + one scarcely could tell what the original was like, in a striking contrast + to the tall, broad-shouldered, hale old man, whose iron frame had defied + the storms of more than seventy winters; but I remember how he seemed to + me a mere pigmy by the side of the generous, large-hearted woman whose + tones and gestures had a protectiveness, a strength born of love and pity, + that reassured us trembling little fugitives in spite of our ungracious + reception. We felt that Aunt Polly would take care of us, let what would + come. + </p> + <p> + "The hours dragged slowly away. Aunt Polly told us that the distant firing + meant that our men had not retreated without an effort to defend the + village. When this firing ceased, we began to watch and hope that some + message would come from our fathers and mothers. But none came. We + wondered among our little selves if they all had been put to death by the + British, and even the oldest among us shed some dreary tears. + </p> + <p> + "Dan Parsons, who was the biggest boy among us and of an adventurous turn, + went in the gathering twilight gloom down as near the village as he dared. + He came shivering back to us with such tales of vague horror that our very + hearts stopped beating while we listened. + </p> + <p> + "'I crep' along under the shadder of the alders and black-berry bushes,' + he began, ''til I got close ter De'con Milleses house. 'Twas as still as + death 'round there, but jest as I turned the corner by the barn I see + somethin' gray a-flappin' and a-flutterin' jest inside the barn door. I + stopped, kind o' wonderin' what it could be, when all at once I thought I + should 'a' dropped, for it came over me like a flash that it might be'— + </p> + <p> + "'What, what, Dan?' cried a score of frightened voices; and Dan replied + solemnly: + </p> + <p> + "'THE OLD DEACON'S SKULP!' + </p> + <p> + "'Oh dear! oh dear!' sobbed the terrified chorus. + </p> + <p> + "Aunt Polly could do nothing with us; and little Dolly Miles, the deacon's + granddaughter, burst into a series of wild lamentations that called Farmer + Gubtil to the door to know the cause of the commotion. + </p> + <p> + "'What's all this hullabaloo about?' he asked crossly; and when he had + heard the story he seized Dan and shook him till his teeth chattered. + </p> + <p> + "'What do you mean by tellin' such stuff an' scarin' these young ones ter + death?' he demanded. + </p> + <p> + "Dan wriggled himself from his grasp and looked sulkily defiant: + </p> + <p> + "'I didn't say 'TWAS that,' he muttered. 'I said it MIGHT be, an' p'r'aps + 'twas; or it might 'a' been the deacon's old mare switchin' 'er tail ter + keep off the flies. I'm sure <i>I</i> don't know which 'twas. But girls + are always a-squealin' at nothin'.' + </p> + <p> + "And with this parting fling at us tearful ones, Dan turned in the + direction of the barn; but I was too anxious to hear from father and + mother to let him go without a word more. 'Dan,' I whispered with my hand + on his arm, 'did you see or hear anything of OUR folks?' + </p> + <p> + "'No!' was the rather grump reply; 'after what I saw at the deacon's I + didn't want ter ventur' furder, but from there I could see 'em lightin' + fires in the village, an' I don't doubt by this time that most o' the + houses is in flames.' + </p> + <p> + "With this comforting assurance Dan went off to his bed upon the haymow, + and I crept back into the house and laid my tired head down upon Aunt + Polly's motherly lap, where, between my sobs, I managed to tell what Dan + had told me. + </p> + <p> + "Aunt Polly laid a caressing hand upon my hair: 'La, child,' said she + soothingly, 'don't you worry yourself a bit over Dan Parson's stories. + That boy was BORN to tell stories. The Britishers are bad enough, but they + ain't heathen savages, an' if the town has surrendered, as I calc'late it + has, the settlers will be treated like prisoners o' war. There won't be no + sculpin' nor burnin' o' houses—no, dear. And now,' giving me a + little reassuring pat, 'you're all tired out, an' ought ter be asleep. + I'll make up a bed on this rug with a cushion under your head, an' my big + plaid shawl over you, an' you'll sleep jest as sound as if you was ter + home in your own trundle-bed.' + </p> + <p> + "Little Sally shared my rug and shawl, and Aunt Polly, gently refusing the + ungracious civility of the old couple, who had offered her the use of + their spare bedroom, after seeing every little, tired form made as + comfortable as possible with quilts and blankets from the farmwife's + stores, laid herself down upon the floor beside us, after commending + herself and us to the God she loved and trusted, raised her head and spoke + to us once more in her sweet, hopeful, quavering old tones: + </p> + <p> + "'Good night, dears! Go to sleep and don't be a bit afraid. I shouldn't + wonder if your folks come for you in the mornin'.' + </p> + <p> + "What comfort there was in her words! And even the very little ones, who + had never been away from their mothers a night before in their lives, + stopped their low sobbing and nestled down to sleep, sure that God and + Aunt Polly would let no harm come to them. + </p> + <p> + "The next day passed slowly and anxiously for us all. From a stray + traveller Aunt Polly learned that the village was still in the hands of + the British and—what was no little comfort to us—that no + violence had been done to the place or its inhabitants. Some of the older + boys were for venturing to return, but Aunt Polly held them back with her + prudent arguments. If their parents had considered it safe for them to + come home they would have sent for them. The British, she said, had been + known to impress boys, as well as men, into service, and the wisest way + was to keep out of their sight. + </p> + <p> + "The gentle, motherly advice prevailed, and even Dan Parsons contented + himself with climbing the tallest trees in the vicinity, from which he + could see the chimneys of several of the nearest houses. From these + pinnacles he would call out to us at intervals: + </p> + <p> + "'The smoke comin' out o' Deacon Mileses chimly has a queer look, + somethin' like burnin' feathers I shouldn't wonder a mite if them + Britishers was burnin' up his furnitoor! Sam Kelly's folks hain't had a + spark o' fire in their fireplace to-day. Poor critters! Mebbe there ain't + nobody left ter want one.' + </p> + <p> + "With these dismal surmises, Dan managed to keep our forlorn little flock + as uncomfortable as even he could wish; and as the second night drew on, I + suppose the homesickness of the smaller ones must have been pitiful to + see. Aunt Polly patted and cuddled the forlorn little things to the best + of her ability, but it was past midnight before the last weary, sobbing + baby was fairly asleep, while all night long one or another would start up + terrified from some frightful dream, to be soothed into quiet by the + patient motherly tenderness of their wakeful protector. + </p> + <p> + "Next morning the brow of the farmer wore an ominous frown, and his wife, + as she distributed to each the scant measure of brown bread and milk + remarked, grudgingly, that she should think 'twas 'bout time that her + house was cleared of a crowd o' hungry, squallin' young ones; and then Mr. + Gubtil took out his account-book and wrote down the name of each child, + with an estimate of the amount of bread, milk and potatoes consumed by + each. He did this with the audible remark that 'if folks thought he was + a-feedin' an' a-housin' their young ones for nothin' they'd find + themselves mightily mistaken.' + </p> + <p> + "The third morning dragged slowly away. Dinner was over and still no + message for us forlorn little ones. At last Aunt Polly slowly arose from + her seat upon the doorstep, with the light of a strong, courageous resolve + on her little face. + </p> + <p> + "Children!' she called loudly, and after we had gathered at her call, she + spoke to us with an encouraging smile: + </p> + <p> + "'I've made up my mind that 'twon't be best for us to stay here another + night. We're in the way, and the little ones would be better off at home + with their mothers. We know that the fightin' is all over, and I don't + believe the English soldiers'll be bad enough to hurt a lot o' little + helpless children, 'specially if they're under a flag o' truce.' + </p> + <p> + "Here she drew a handkerchif from her pocket. This she fastened carefully + to a stick. Then putting it into the hands of my brother Ben, a well-grown + lad of twelve, she went on with her directions: + </p> + <p> + "'We'll form in procession, just as we came, and you, Benjie, may march at + the head with this white flag a-wavin' to let them know that we come in + peace. I'll follow next with the biggest boys, and the girls, with the + little ones, must keep behind where it's safest.' + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps it was the contagion of Aunt Polly's cheerful courage, but more + likely it was the blessed hope of seeing home and father and mother again, + that made the little folks so prompt to obey her directions. We formed + ourselves in line in less time than it takes to tell about it; we elder + girls took charge of the wee ones who were so rejoiced to leave the + inhospitable roof of the Gubtils' that they forgot all their fears of the + terrible English, and trotted along as blithely over the deserted road as + if not a fear had ever terrified their childish hearts, and as if English + soldiers were still simply those far-off monsters that had served as + bugbears to frighten them now and then into obedience to maternal + authority. + </p> + <p> + "The Gubtils watched us off without a word of encouragement or + friendliness. Aunt Polly walked close behind the flag-bearer with a firm + step, but I could see that she was very pale, and when we came to descend + the little hill that led into the village, and when just at its foot, + where then stood the grocery of old Penn Parker, we caught a glimpse of + the scarlet uniforms of several soldiers loafing about—then even we + children could see that her steps faltered; and I remember I thought she + was fearful of some violence. + </p> + <p> + "But the next moment she was walking steadily along again as if no thought + of danger or retreat had ever entered her mind; and as we came opposite + the grocery and a tall man in an officer's uniform strolled out toward us + with a curious, questioning look upon his handsome face, she gave the word + of command to her little brigade in a voice as clear as a bell: + </p> + <p> + "'Halt, children!' + </p> + <p> + "We all stood still as mice, eying the stranger with looks in which fear + and admiration were probably curiously blended, while Aunt Polly, taking + the white flag from her color-bearer, advanced with a firm front to meet + the foe who now, reinforced by several men, stood beside the way, + evidently wondering what this queer parade was about. + </p> + <p> + "'Sir!' and Aunt Polly's voice trembled perceptibly but she waved the + white flag manfully under his very nose, 'sir, I demand a safe passage for + these innocent children to their different homes.' + </p> + <p> + "The officer stared, and his mouth twitched mischievously as if he had + hard work to keep from laughing outright. But he was a gentleman; and when + he spoke, he spoke like one. + </p> + <p> + "'My good woman,' he said kindly, 'these children are nothing to me. If + you wish permission for them to go to their own homes you are welcome to + it, though in what way the matter concerns me I must confess I am at a + loss to imagine." + </p> + <p> + Then, and not till then, Aunt Polly broke down and sobbed aloud: + </p> + <p> + "'Run, children,' she cried as soon as she could speak; 'go home just as + fast as you can scud; an' tell your folks,' she added with a gust of + gratitude, 'that there's worse folks in the world than an Englishman.' + </p> + <p> + "You may be sure that we waited for no further urging; and as we flew, + rather than ran, in the direction of our different homes, I heard the + irrepressible burst of laughter with which the officer and his men + received the grateful spinster's compliment which, to the day of her + death, she loved to repeat whenever she told the thrilling story of her + adventure with the English officer, 'when Hampden was took by the British + in 1814;' always concluding with this candid admission: + </p> + <p> + "'An' really, now, if he'd 'a' been anybody but an Englishman, an' an + inimy, I should 'a' said that I never sot eyes on a better-built, more + mannerly man, in all my born days.'" + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Heigho! Baby Mine! + Now where are you creeping, + With such a rapid pace + across the nursery floor? + Only out to Mamma + who'll give you royal greeting, + With coddling and petting + and kisses + galore. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CORINNE'S MUSICALE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Inside of me says I am naughty, + But truly, I know I am not; + For if Brother Joe could see me + Right in this very same spot, + He'd let me do just + what I'm doing, + I'm very sure; that is, + perhaps. Oh dear! however do + big folks + Hold this thing + straight in their + laps? + + It slips, an' it slips, an' + it slips, + You naughty old + Banjo, oh dear! + + Is he coming? then what + will he do + To find me sitting up + here! Ho, ho! 'twas a mouse + —how silly + An' frightened I've actually been; + For he'd say, "If you hold it quite still, + You may take it, I'm willing, Corinne!" + + I know: so now I'll begin it; + How does he go "tum-ty tum ting," + An' make such beautiful tunes; + Too lovely for anything? + I ain't a bit 'fraid they may hear, + —The house-people 'way off below— + Me playing in Brother Joe's room, + Still I better be careful, you know. + + If they didn't say 'twas amusing, + I sh'd think 'twas stupid to play, + To tug at such tiresome strings + An' make them come over this way; + But it must be delightful. I'll pull + A very fine tune at first; + Now, "tum-ty ting tw-a-n-g!" + It sound's as if something had burst! + + That string must 'a' truly been cracked, + Don't you s'pose? or moth-eaten, p'raps; + 'Tisn't pleasant to practice, I'm sure, + But forlorn, when anything flaps. + So I guess I have finished; hark, hark! + He really IS coming—Oh my! + Now, Banjo, I know mamma wants me, + An' so I must bid you good-by! + MARGARET SIDNEY. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mr. Bunny was a rabbit, + Mr. Bunny was a thief! + He hopped into my garden + And stole a cabbage leaf. + + He ate up all my parsnips + Without asking if he may, + And when I tried to catch him + Kicked up his heels + and ran away. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BARBARA FRIETCHIE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Up from the meadows rich with corn, + Clear in the cool September morn, + + The clustered spires of Frederick stand + Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. + + Round about them orchards sweep, + Apple and peach-tree fruited deep, + + Fair as a garden of the Lord + To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, + + On that pleasant morn of the early fall, + When Lee marched over the mountain-wall— + + Over the mountains winding down, + Horse and foot, into Frederick town— + + Forty flags with their silver stars, + Forty flags with their crimson bars, + + Flapped in the morning wind: the sun + Of noon looked down, and saw not one. + + Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, + Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; + + Bravest of all in Frederick town, + She took up the flag the men hauled down: + + In her attic window the staff she set, + To show that one heart was loyal yet. + + Up the street came the rebel tread, + Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. + + Under his slouched hat, left and right, + He glanced: the old flag met his sight. + + "Halt"—the dust-brown ranks stood fast, + "Fire!"—out blazed the rifle-blast. + + It shivered the window, pane and sash; + It rent the banner with seam and gash. + + Quick as it fell from the broken staff, + Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf; + + She leaned far out on the window sill, + And shook it forth with a royal will. + + "Shoot if you must this old gray head,— + But spare your country's flag," she said. + + A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, + Over the face of the leader came; + + The nobler nature within him stirred + To life at that woman's deed and word. + + "Who touches a hair of yon gray head + Dies like a dog! March on!" he said. + + All day long through Frederick street + Sounded the tread of marching feet. + + All day long that free flag tossed + Over the heads of the rebel host; + + Ever its torn folds rose and fell + On the loyal winds that loved it well; + + And through the hill-gaps, sunset light + Shone over it with a warm good-night. + + Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, + And the rebel rides on his raids no more. + + Honor to her!—and let a tear + Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. + + Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, + Flag of Freedom and Union wave! + + Peace, and order, and beauty, draw + Round thy symbol of light and law; + + And ever the stars above look down + On thy stars below at Frederick town! + + JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A sturdy cow-boy I would be + And chase this buffalo out in the West. + An Indian pony I know I could ride, + And "round up" with all the rest. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SHERIDAN'S RIDE. + </h2> + <p> + (Used by special arrangement with J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, + publisher of Mr. Read's Poems.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Up from the South at break of day, + Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, + The affrighted air with a shudder bore, + Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, + The terrible grumble and rumble and roar, + Telling the battle was on once more, + And Sheridan twenty miles away. + + And wilder still those billows of war + Thundered along the horizon's bar, + And louder yet into Winchester rolled + The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, + Making the blood of the listener cold + As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, + And Sheridan twenty miles away. + + But there is a road from Winchester town, + A good, broad highway leading down; + And there through the flash of the morning light, + A steed as black as the steeds of night, + Was seen to pass as with eagle's flight— + As if he knew the terrible need, + He stretched away with the utmost speed; + Hills rose and fell—but his heart was gay, + With Sheridan fifteen miles away. + Still sprung from these swift hoofs, thundering South, + The dust, like the smoke from the cannon's mouth, + + Or the trail of a comet sweeping faster and faster, + Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster; + The heart of the steed and the heart of the master, + Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, + Impatient to be where the battle-field calls; + Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, + With Sheridan only ten miles away. + + Under his spurning feet the road + Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed; + And the landscape sped away behind + Like an ocean flying before the wind. + And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, + Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire, + But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire— + He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, + With Sheridan only five miles away. + + The first that the General saw were the groups + Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops; + What was done—what to do—a glance told him both, + And striking his spurs with a terrible oath, + He dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzahs, + And the wave of retreat checked its course there because + The sight of the master compelled it to pause. + With foam and with dust the black charger was gray, + By the flash of his eye, and his red nostrils' play, + He seemed to the whole great army to say, + "I have brought you Sheridan all the way + From Winchester down to save the day!" + + Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan! + Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man! + + And when their statues are placed on high + Under the dome of the Union sky— + The American soldiers' Temple of Fame— + There with the glorious General's name + Be it said in letters both bold and bright: + "Here is the steed that saved the day + By carrying Sheridan into the fight, + From Winchester—twenty miles away!" + T. B. READ. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + See-saw, Margery Daw, + Jenny shall have a new master, + She shall have but a penny a day, + Because she can't work any faster. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + An old Hippopotamus lived on the Nile, + If she hasn't gone away, she's been there quite a while. + She gives all her children a ride on her back, + Broad enough to accommodate the whole scrambling pack. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CHILDREN'S HOUR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Between the dark and daylight, + When the night is beginning to lower, + Comes a pause in the day's occupations + That is known as the Children's Hour. + + I hear in the chamber above me + The patter of little feet, + The sound of a door that is opened, + And voices soft and sweet. + + From my study I see in the lamp-light, + Descending the broad hall-stair, + Grave Alice and laughing Allegra, + And Edith with golden hair. + + A whisper, and then a silence; + Yet I know by their merry eyes + They are plotting and planning together + To take me by surprise. + + A sudden rush from the stairway, + A sudden raid from the hall! + By three doors left unguarded + They enter my castle wall! + + They climb up into my turret, + O'er the arms and back of my chair; + If I try to escape, they surround me, + They seem to be everywhere. + + They almost devour me with kisses; + Their arms about me entwine, + Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen + In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine! + + Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti, + Because you have scaled the wall, + Such an old Mustache as I am + Is not a match for you all? + + I have you fast in my fortress, + And will not let you depart, + But put you down in the dungeon, + In the round-tower of my heart. + + And there I will keep you forever, + Yes, forever and a day, + Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, + And moulder in dust away. + + HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I will dig me a garden and plant it with seeds, + I will hoe and water it and keep down the weeds; + Then perhaps some of these bright summer days, + To mamma I can carry big boquets. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CARYL'S PLUM. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "He put in his thumb + And pulled out a plum." +</pre> + <p> + So sang Caryl over the stairs. + </p> + <p> + "Now if HE pulled out a plum, why shouldn't SHE?" she said to herself, + halting a bit by the landing window. "And a good big plum too—nice + and juicy. O Aunt Sylvia, Aunt Sylvia!" + </p> + <p> + She fairly hugged herself in glee, then drew one long breath and dashed on + to her own poor little room. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you here, Viny?" she exclaimed in surprise as she flung open the + door. + </p> + <p> + A small figure rose to a perpendicular position in front of the old + bureau, while a shoving-to of the under drawer proclaimed some attention + having been paid to the pretty laces, ribbons, and various other + adornments packed away for safe keeping. + </p> + <p> + Caryl remembered leaving the key in the drawer after taking out a bit of + lavender ribbon the night before for Aunt Sylvia's cap. + </p> + <p> + "What have you been doing?" she asked sharply; and taking hold of the + small wiry shoulder, she looked down into a little black face whose eyes + were staring solemnly into the farthest corner of the room. + </p> + <p> + "Ben doin'?" repeated Viny, scared almost to death inwardly, but + preserving a cool exterior. "Nothin', only shettin' the draw'; plaguey + thing wouldn't stay put. Tore my dress," she added mumblingly to fill out + the pause. + </p> + <p> + "Where?" said Caryl, looking sharply at her. + </p> + <p> + "Dar," said Viny, with a violent twist, so that she could compass the back + breadths of her blue gingham frock, and she pointed abruptly to a + cat-a-cornered rent. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, you didn't," contradicted Caryl, looking her through and through, + and giving her a small shake, "tear that either; I heard Maum Patty scold + you yesterday for letting Jip bite it and snip out a piece." + </p> + <p> + "Well, somefin tore," said Viny. "I donno whar 'tis, but it's somewhars. A + mighty smart tare, too, Miss Ca." + </p> + <p> + "I'll lock, and lock, and lock," declared the young girl, now down on her + knees before her precious drawer, "before I run the chance of your + rummaging fingers getting here again. Now then, Viny!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes'm," said the little black girl obsequiously, and rolling her eyes to + all quarters; "Oh, yes'm!" + </p> + <p> + "We are going to move, Viny," said her young mistress, taking the key out + of its lock, and turning her back on drawers and contents, to sit on the + floor with hands folded in her lap while she watched the effect of her + words. + </p> + <p> + "MOVE?" echoed Viny with a start; "Oh, lawks! whatever's dat, Miss?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, go to a new place," said Caryl, laughing in spite of herself. "For + mercy's sake, child, do take your eyes in! It'll be very fine, Viny, oh, + so fine!" she cried enthusiastically. + </p> + <p> + "An' lib here nebber no mo'?" cried the little black figure in a shrill + scream; "wot, an' hev no leaky sink dat keps me a-swashin' and a-swashin', + an' no old ruf dat lets in hull buckets full o' water onter de bed, an'—" + </p> + <p> + "No," said Caryl, interrupting the steady stream of invective against the + old heuse, "everything's to be as new and nice and neat as a pin, Viny—sinks + and everything else; you can't begin to think how splendid it's to be!" + </p> + <p> + "I'm goin' to tell gramma," cried Viny, wholly off her balance, "dis berry + same minnit. Lawks! but won't she be tickled to leave the ole shell! Den + I'll git my bunnet an' go wid yer, Miss Ca, in tree shakes of a lobster's + whisker!" + </p> + <p> + She scampered in the greatest excitement to the door, when a detaining + pull on the end of her long apron, brought her to a full stop. + </p> + <p> + "You are crazy, child!" exclaimed Caryl, bursting into a laugh and holding + her fast. "We can't go this moment, no matter how bad the old house is. + Listen, Viny!" + </p> + <p> + But the small figure flung itself into a heap on the floor so suddenly + that she nearly pulled her young mistress with her, while the little black + hands clapped themselves over the bead like eyes, wail after wail of + disappointment making the room to ring. + </p> + <p> + "Will you STOP!" cried Caryl in perfect despair. "Aunt Sylvia's head will + snap with your noise! If you don't stop crying, Viny, you sha'n't go when + the rest of us are ready to move, so there, now." + </p> + <p> + Threats had the power to do what nothing else could. Viny wiped off all + the tears with the backs of her grimy little paws, gave two or three + concluding sniffs, sat up straight, and was immediately all right for + further developments. + </p> + <p> + "Now then"—Caryl pointed off her sentences briskly on the tips of + her rosy fingers—"you must try to help—well, an awful great + deal, Viny, yourself, or else it can't be a moving for any single one of + us." + </p> + <p> + Viny's eyes widened fearfully, but she didn't stir. + </p> + <p> + "If you will take care—mind! SPLENDID care of Aunt Sylvia every + morning," said Caryl slowly and with extreme empressment—"watch and + get her everything she wants, not wait for her to ask for anything, then I + can go off down street and make lots and lots of money, Viny. Think of + that, lots and lots! Then we can move, and Aunt Sylvia will maybe get + well." + </p> + <p> + Caryl's gray eyes were only a thought less big than those of her small + black audience, who presently caught the infectious enthusiasm and emitted + several lusty crows. + </p> + <p> + "Jiminy—oh, I DIDN'T say it—I didn't—I didn't! O Jiminy, + I didn't—I didn't—O Jimmy, I—" + </p> + <p> + "Stop saying it, then," exclaimed her young mistress decidedly, and + enforcing her words by a vigorous shake. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I didn't—I will—O Jiminy! yes, I will!" cried the little + black delinquent, the full tide of original sin taking an unfair advantage + of her excitement to engulf her. "Oh—er—oh—er—r—" + </p> + <p> + Caryl came to her rescue by giving her a new idea. + </p> + <p> + "See how splendid you can be, Viny dear," she said kindly. "You can be + such a good little helper, so that part of the new home will be of your + getting; for I never could have the chance to earn anything if you didn't + take my place and be Aunt Sylvia's nurse." + </p> + <p> + "I know how," said Viny, perfectly overcome with the greatness thrust upon + her; "it's to slip crickets under her feet to put her toes onter. I'll + slip 'em all day. An' it's to wipe her specs, an' to say yes, no, an' to—" + </p> + <p> + "To be good," finished Caryl solemnly; "that comprehends the whole + business." + </p> + <p> + "To be good," repeated the small nurse yet more solemnly, "an' to compren' + the whole bus'ness; I will." + </p> + <p> + "You are a ridiculous child," cried Caryl impatiently; "I don't really + suppose you are fit to be trusted, but then, it's the only thing to try." + </p> + <p> + Viny, having been duly elected to office, considered her honors settled, + so she was little disturbed by any opinions that might be held concerning + her. Therefore she squatted and wriggled in great delight, grinning at + every word that fell from her young mistress' lips. + </p> + <p> + "You see, Viny," Caryl was saying, beginning on her confidence, "I've got + an order to teach the little Grant girls how to paint, and if I can run + down there two hours every morning, I'm to have twenty-five dollars, and + Madam Grant is going to give it to me in advance; that is, after the first + quarter. Think, Viny, TWENTY-FIVE dollars! That's what we want to move + with into Heart's Delight!" + </p> + <p> + This was the upstairs southwest corner of a little cottage that for a year + or more had been the desideratum of the young girl's highest hopes that + had to wear themselves out in empty longings, the invalid's scanty + exchequer only sufficing for doctor's bills and similar twelvemonth, along + with several other broken-down lodgers whose slender means compelled them + to call this place "home"—this place where never a bit of sunshine + seemed to come; where even the birds hated to stop for a song as they flew + merrily over the tree-tops. And no wonder. The trees were scraggy, loppy + old things hanging down in dismal sweep over the leaky roof and damp + walls. They had to stay—the lodgers, but the birds and the sunshine + tossed off the whole responsibility of life in such a gloomy old home, and + flitted to gayer quarters. But now, what if Heart's Delight could really + be theirs! + </p> + <p> + "Yer goin' ter tell 'em how to paint dem tings yer daub?" broke in Viny, + and snapping off this delightful thought. + </p> + <p> + "You shouldn't speak so, child," said Caryl with the greatest dignity; + "it's very fine work, and you couldn't possibly understand it. It's art, + Viny." + </p> + <p> + "Ho, ho!" laughed the small black figure, nowise impressed and cramming + her stumpy fingers up to her mouth to keep the laugh in as she saw her + young mistress' displeasure. "It's an awful old dirty muss, an' I wish I + could do it," she added under her breath. + </p> + <p> + "And I shall begin tomorrow," declared Caryl with still greater dignity, + and drawing herself to her full height. "Aunt Sylvia says she'll try you. + Now you'll be good, won't you?" she added anxiously. "It's only for two + hours a day, Viny." + </p> + <p> + "I'll be good," declared Viny, "'strue's I live an' breeve." Meanwhile the + darkest of plans ran riot in her little black head. + </p> + <p> + "Heart's Delight—Heart's Delight!" sang Caryl's happy voice all that + day; and like St. Patrick's poor imprisoned snake, she began to feel that + to-morrow would never come. + </p> + <p> + But hours come and go, and Caryl awoke the next morning, the brightest, + cheeriest morning that ever called a happy girl out of bed. + </p> + <p> + "Aunt Sylvia won't have many more days in that dark little room of hers," + she cried to herself, throwing on her clothes rapidly. "Oh, dear, where + ARE the pins? I can't bear to wait a minute any more than Viny, when I + think of that dear lovely nest, and the bay-window, and all that sunshine. + I'll always have it full of flowers, and the bird shall sing all the time, + and—and—and—" + </p> + <p> + The rest was lost in a dash of cold water over the rosy face, and Caryl + soon presented herself at her aunt's bedside. + </p> + <p> + "I'll do well enough while you are gone," said her aunt, smiling up from + the pillows into the bright face above hers. "Now you're not to worry + about me in the least, for you cannot do justice to yourself if your mind + is troubled. Remember, Caryl, and be thorough in your efforts to teach + your little pupils." + </p> + <p> + "And Madam Grant is going to buy some of my panels and little plaques, I + almost know," cried Caryl, bustling around for her aunt's long woolen + wrapper and her day slippers, "for she told me she should want to see them + some time. Then, Auntie—oh, then!" + </p> + <p> + The young girl in her eagerness climbed upon the old bed to lay her fresh + young cheek against the pale thin one. How she longed to put brightness + into the poor invalid's life! + </p> + <p> + "Remember," said Aunt Sylvia lightly, to hide the tears in her voice, + "your fortune's to be made. Only be prompt and thorough, and put your + whole mind to your work. That is the secret of success." + </p> + <p> + "I will, Auntie, oh, I WILL!" cried Caryl happily, "and Viny will do well, + I guess," she added, the gleeful tones dropping down with an anxious note. + </p> + <p> + "Viny will prove a capital little nurse, I expect," said Miss Sylvia + cheerfully; "now the day won't wait, Caryl, so get your old auntie up." + </p> + <p> + "My old auntie is just LOVELY," cried the girl, hopping off from the bed, + and flying around merrily, well pleased at last when the invalid was in + her chair, to see a little faint, pink color stealing up the wan cheek. + </p> + <p> + "The best cap, Aunt Sylvia—the best cap!" she cried, running for the + one with the fresh lavender ribbons. + </p> + <p> + "What an extravagant puss!" exclaimed Aunt Sylvia, willing to humor the + gay little heart, and tapping her cheek as the young girl settled the cap + on the lovely gray hair. + </p> + <p> + "Everything must be best to-day," cried Caryl recklessly. "It's all fresh + and new and fine! All the world is made just for us." + </p> + <p> + Maum Patty saw Caryl run down the dirty little brick path that served for + all the lodgers in the old house as a walk to the broken-down gate, with + her color-box under her arm, and her little roll of pictures in her hand, + and heaved a sigh from her ample bosom. + </p> + <p> + "Dat chile can't make no fortin' like she's a-tinkin' of, but laws! let + her try. Here, yer Viny, yer, be off up to de Missis' room. Scat now! De + pore lettle lamb," she mourned, as her hopeful grandchild unwillingly + dragged her recreant feet off to her duties, leaving her grandmother to + pursue her reflections in peace, "it mos' busts my heart to see her + a-workin' an' de Missis keepin' up an' pretendin' she's as fine as a + queen. 'Twarn't so in ole Patty's day. Den dar wos plenty-pies and + turkeys. Lors, what stumpers! An' hull bar'ls o' flour, an' sugar, an' a + creation sight of eberyting in de beyeutiful house, an' now look at dis + ole shell!" + </p> + <p> + Maum Patty tossed her turban in intense scorn at each of the dark + soot-begrimed walls of the place called kitchen. + </p> + <p> + "Missis ud feel more like folks," she said at each disdainful scrutiny, + "an' like as not git well, ef we cud cut sticks inter anudder home. Ef de + chile only CUD do it!" + </p> + <p> + She peered anxiously down the dirty little brick walk again, then fetched + a still longer sigh. + </p> + <p> + "I don't darst to!" she declared in a mighty burst at last. "I don't, cos + wot ud keep us all from the pore-'us den. It's every speck I kin do ter + keep along of de Miss an' Car'l an' take keer of 'em wi'dout a cent o' + pay; I don't darst tech my stockin' bag in de bank." + </p> + <p> + Maum Patty always spoke of her scanty savings deposited in the neighboring + bank, in this way, fondly supposing them in the original condition in + which ten years ago, she had taken them there for future shield against + sickness and old age. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the little black nurse had begun her work. + </p> + <p> + Peering around Miss Sylvia's half-closed door, Viny exclaimed to herself, + "Umph! she don't want me; guess she's a'readin' now. I'll git into Miss + Ca's room an' try on all her clo'es an' pertend I'm makin' calls, an' peek + inter ebery single place whar I kin, an' I'll be a lady, an' dar sha'n't + no one scold Viny." + </p> + <p> + "Viny," called Miss Sylvia's soft voice, hearing a rustle at the door. + </p> + <p> + "Dat's Jip she's a-talkin' ter, I reckon," said Viny, stealing off on her + tiptoes down the hall, and sticking her fingers in her ears that she might + hear no more troublesome conscience calls; "I seen him on de rug when I + peeked in de crack. Now den—Whoop, says I, WHOOP!" + </p> + <p> + She was safe now in Caryl's room, where the first thing she did was to + indulge in a series of somersaults over the floor, and also, for variety, + over the neat little white bed. These afforded her intense comfort. When + she came up bright and shining after this celebration of her independence, + she drew herself up with a serious face and proceeded at once to stern + business. + </p> + <p> + "Two hours ain't long," she observed wisely, "an' I mus' be back some of + de time. Jiminy! she's forgot de key again!" In truth, Caryl in her great + excitement of hunting for some pictures packed away in her precious + drawer, had forgotten to pocket the key that protected her few treasures. + </p> + <p> + Ruthlessly, then, they were pulled out and overhauled, while Viny reveled + in each new discovery, chattering softly to herself in glee. She tied on + all the bright bits of ribbons she could lay her hands on, to the little + tiny tails adorning her head. She twisted with great difficulty into a + delicate white spenser that Caryl's mother had worn when a girl, saved for + its tender reminiscence, and for the soft, fine old lace that would be of + use to the young daughter by and by. Viny was nowise disturbed in her + enjoyment at certain ominous crackings and creakings that proclaimed the + giving way of the delicate material. Arrayed at last to her satisfaction, + although the lace did hang down in some shreds where her impatient fingers + had clutched it, she whirled and whirled in front of the old-fashioned + glass with many grimaces, trying the effect of her new costume. + </p> + <p> + "I want sumfin to shine," she said at last, tired of this; "jew-EL-lery + an' stuns. Le's see ef she's got any." + </p> + <p> + Now in one corner of Caryl's drawer was a small black box; unfortunately, + the lock was broken in childhood, and there had been no money to spare for + repairs of anything of that sort, so she had tied it securely with the + strongest of twine, and written on the cover in big schoolgirl hand the + words, "DON'T ANY ONE DARE TO TOUCH!" Although Viny was unable to decipher + the writing in the least, it was fun enough to attack the string, which + presently succumbed to the violent onslaught of tooth and nail, and the + precious, precious bits of brightness were soon at the mercy of the little + black fingers. + </p> + <p> + Maum Patty was droning away in the kitchen some old Methodist hymns. Viny + was dimly conscious of a faint call from the invalid's room, as she drew + out in the utmost delight an old-fashioned brooch with a green centre + around which were some little sparkling things. + </p> + <p> + She couldn't even say "Jiminy!" but simply held the pretty thing which + seemed glad of its freedom from solitary confinement, and thus delighted + to sparkle more than ever in its resting-place in the little black hand. + With trembling fingers she fastened it into the centre of the lace + spenser, above her naughty little bosom, hurrying to the glass to do so, + and had just taken one look, when a low cry of distress struck upon her + ear. + </p> + <p> + It filled her whole soul with dismay, rooting her like a little frozen + thing to the spot. It was Miss Sylvia, she knew. + </p> + <p> + With one mighty effort she tore herself from the spot, and rushed headlong + into the hall. "Oh—oh—OH!" came from the invalid's room. + </p> + <p> + At that Viny wrung her hands and writhed in dire distress. + </p> + <p> + "She's a-dyin'!" she gasped, her knees knocking together in a lively + manner; "I don't darst to look—I don't!—I've killed her!" And + the whole flood of remorse sweeping her very soul, she turned and scuttled + down the crooked little stairs and into the street. + </p> + <p> + "A doctor!" was all her thought. She remembered hearing Caryl say he lived + in a big brown house that had lots of flowers in the windows. But where + upon the face of the earth the house was situated, Viny knew no more than + a bird. However, she must get him, so she dashed blindly on, turning the + first corner to run headlong into the arms of a portly old lady who was + placidly enjoying the fresh air and sunshine at the same time that she + displayed her rich street attire. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, my goodness!" cried the old lady, startled out of all fine speeches + by the collision, and jumping in fright to the extreme edge of the + curbstone. Then seeing the cause, she cried in anger, "You miserable, + dirty little thing you, you ve nearly killed me!" + </p> + <p> + At the word "killed," Viny began to dance in terror on the sidewalk. "I + know it," she cried, "oh, dear, I know it! she's dead, an' grandma 'll + beat me." + </p> + <p> + "And if you don't know any better," cried the old lady, vainly trying to + settle her gray puffs as they were before, "than to run into people in + this way, I'll have you arrested, I will!" + </p> + <p> + At this Viny was completely overcome. Her guilty conscience pictured all + sorts of punishments; worse, far worse, than "grandma's" judgments, and, + falling on her knees, she grasped the old lady's black satin gown and + implored for mercy. + </p> + <p> + The old lady, now her attention was drawn off from her own annoyance, + settled her eyes on the brooch half concealed by a fold of the little lace + spenser. + </p> + <p> + "You wicked, bad child!" she exclaimed, seizing her arm and pouncing one + stiffly gloved hand on the sparkling brooch; "you've stolen that! It's bad + enough to be run into by a dirty little thing fresh from Bedlam, without + being wicked into the bargain. That's TOO much!" + </p> + <p> + The little black figure being too wretched to hear this tirade, could only + mumble and wail and wriggle closer and closer into the folds of the rich + gown. + </p> + <p> + "Get out of my dress!" cried the old lady excitedly. "Here, I'll call the + police; if you don't let go of me this instant! Stop, I say! Po-o-lice!" + </p> + <p> + Viny gave one violent jerk that brought her up to her feet, and with eyes + distended in terror, started in wild despair across the street. A pair of + handsome bays were coming in their best step down from the Square, drawing + a carriage full of people who seemed in the very best of spirits. + </p> + <p> + "WHOA-A!" A click, a rapid pull-up with all Thomas's best strength, and + the horses fell back on their haunches just in time for the little lithe + figure to dart under their pawing hoofs and be saved! Everybody leaned out + of the carriage for a glimpse of the child. + </p> + <p> + "Why—why"—A young girl's face paled, while the gray eyes + flashed, and with one spring she was out and rushing after the small + flying figure who in her fright had turned to flee the other way. + </p> + <p> + "Look out, Caryl!" called the others in the carriage after her. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, she'll be killed," moaned a little girl leaning out as far as she + dared over the wheels. + </p> + <p> + "And then she can't ever get into the pretty new house," wailed another. + "Oh, what shall we do! Come back, Bessie!" she cried, tugging at her + sister's skirts. "Grandmamma, make her come into the carriage, I can't + hold her!" + </p> + <p> + But a crowd of people surging up around them at this moment, took off all + attention from Bessie and everybody else but the little fugitive and her + kind pursuer. Caryl made her way through the crowd with flushed face, her + little brown hat hanging by its strings around her neck, pantingly + dragging after her the little black girl. + </p> + <p> + "It's our Viny," she said, "and something is the matter with Aunt Sylvia! + Oh, Madam Grant!" + </p> + <p> + "My poor child," said a sweet-faced woman, reaching out a kind arm, while + the children seized hold of Caryl at every available point, between them + dragging her and her charge into shelter, "don't be troubled. Drive just + as fast as you can, Thomas, to No. 27, you know," she commanded hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + Then the first thing Caryl did was to turn upon Viny and unhook the + precious brooch as a low sob came from her white lips. "If it had been + lost!" + </p> + <p> + A soft hand stole under the little brown cloak to clasp her own; but Madam + Grant said never a word. She knew what the young girl's heart was too full + for speech; that the mother's brooch would speak more tenderly than ever + she could, of forgiveness to the little ignorant black girl. + </p> + <p> + The children were all eyes at Viny and her costume, but they said never a + word while she howled on steadily, only ejaculating in an occasional gust, + "O Miss Sylvy—Miss Sylvy!" + </p> + <p> + Caryl, white as a sheet, rushed out of the carriage and into the old + lodging house the instant the horses paused by the broken gate. Maum Patty + was singing in the little kitchen the refrain she never indulged in except + in her most complacent moods. Flinging wide the door, Caryl panted out, + "Oh, what is it! Tell me at once!" + </p> + <p> + "Lawks!" exclaimed Maum Patty, startled from her peaceful enjoyment, and + turning so suddenly in the old calico-covered chair that she sent her + spectacles spinning into the middle of the floor. "Massy, how yer look! + Tain't wurth it—don't! He hain't spile't it; I stopped him," she + added exultingly. + </p> + <p> + "Stopped what?" echoed Caryl in bewildered distress. "Oh, do tell me! + Is'nt Aunt Sylvia sick? Tell me, Maum Patty," she pleaded. And she grasped + the old woman's arm in an agony of suspense. + </p> + <p> + "Massy, no!" declared Maum Patty in her most cheery tones, "she's ben + a-laughin' fit to kill herself, an' I don't wonder, for the little rascal + looked as cunnin' as an imp. But I stopped him I stopped him!" she added + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + Caryl had no strength to ask further, nor to stir. The reaction was too + great, and she leaned up against the door for support. + </p> + <p> + "He shuck it, an' shuck it," said the old woman, laughing immoderately. + "Laws, how he shuck it—dat Jip did—yer aunt's beyeutiful cap + with the new puppel ribbons! Ye see it tumbled off; I dunno wedder she + sneezed, or wot she did, but anyway, it tumbled off on de flo', and dat + little pison scamp jumped up from his rug an' cotched it, an' she + a-callin' an'a-callin, fit ver die—I'll snake dat Viny w'en I gets + her.—Lawks, but I couldn't help it! I laughed till I cried to see + dat dog carry on. Luckily I run up just when I did to pay my 'specs to de + Missis, for—I stopped him, I stopped him," she brought herself up to + declare, wiping her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Viny," said Caryl, in her little room, an hour after, when everything had + been confessed and forgiven; when the delightful story had all come out, + how they were really and truly to move that very afternoon; how Madam + Grant had paid the rent in advance for the sunny rooms in the little + cottage, and they were just driving around to surprise Aunt Sylvia when + they witnessed Viny's escapade; how the carriage was to come before very + long to take dear Aunt Sylvia to her longed-for refuge; how the price of + the lessons was to go for new furniture; how everything for the rest of + their lives was to be cheery, winsome, and bright to the very last degree—when + it was all finished, Caryl looked kindly down into the sorry little black + face—"Yes, Viny," she said with the happiest little laugh, "I shall + have to forgive you, for it's the last naughty thing that you will ever do + in the old home." + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARGARET SIDNEY. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ole King Cole Was a merry old soul, + And a merry old soul was he; + He called for his pipe, + And he called for his bowl, + And he called for his fiddlers three. + + "Ding Dong bell! Pussy's in the well!" + "Who put her in?" + "Little Tommy Green." + "Who pulled her out?" + "Big Jack Stout." + "What a naughty act was that, + To drown poor Pussy Cat!" +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + OUR TWO OPINIONS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Us two wuz boys when we fell out— + Nigh to the age uv my youngest now; + Don't rec'lect what t'wuz about, + Some small deef'rence, I'll allow; + Lived next neighbors twenty years, + A-hatin' each other, me 'nd Jim,— + He havin' his opinyin uv me, + 'Nd I havin' my opinyin uv him. + + Grew up together 'nd wouldn't speak, + Courted sisters 'nd married' em, too; + 'Tended same meetin' house onct a week, + A-hatin' each other through 'nd through! + But when Abe Linkern asked the West + F'r soldiers, we answered—me 'nd Jim— + He havin' his opinyin uv me, + 'Nd I havin' my opinyin uv him. + + But down in Tennessee one night + There wuz sounds uv firin' far away, + 'Nd the Sergeant allowed ther'd be a fight + With the Johnnie Rebs some time nex' day; + 'Nd as I wuz thinkin' of Lizzie 'nd home, + Jim stood afore me, long and slim— + He havin' his opinyin uv me, + 'Nd I havin' my opinyin uv him. + + Seemed like we knew ther wuz goin' to be + Serious trouble f'r me and him; + Us two shuck hands, did Jim 'nd me. + But nearer a word from me or Jim! + He went his way, 'nd I went mine, + 'Nd into the battle's roar went we— + I havin' my opinyin uv Jim, + 'Nd he havin' his opinyin uv me. + + Jim never came back from the war again, + But I haint forgot that last, last night, + When, waitin' fur orders, us two men + Made up, 'nd shook hands afore the fight + 'Nd after it all, its soothin' to know + That here be I, 'nd yonder's Jim— + He havin' his opinyin uv me, + 'Nd I havin' my opinion uv him. + EUGENE FIELD. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Twilight Stories, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWILIGHT STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 594-h.htm or 594-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/9/594/ + +Produced by David Widger, and Charles Keller for Tina + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |