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RRISKY, THE QUIRR'EL.By C. E. B.ONE day a wounded squirrel lay Ere long the merry little thingHalf dead upon the ground; Was sociable and tame,A hunter passing with his gun, And being very frolicksome,The little creature found. "Frisky" became its name.Young Archie Gray, of Fawley Hall, He'd spring and gambol round the room,Was also in the wood, Performing antics droll;And begg'd that he might take it home Or climb and gravely take his seatTo save it, if he could. Upon the curtain pole.The hunter shook his head in doubt; When, wearied out with all his play,"'Twas too far gone," he said. He felt inclined to sleep,He fear'd that ere the morning came, He'd gently steal to Archie's side,The squirrel would be dead. Then in his pocket creep.But care and skill will wonders work; And there, curl'd up so warm and snug,And I am glad to tell, He put himself to bed;That very soon through Archie's care His nose tuck'd in between his paws,It grew quite strong and well. His tail wound round his head.
Frisky, the Squirrel.Summer and Autumn pass'd away Protected well against the cold,Frisky was six months old; Young Archie walk'd away;When suddenly a frost set in; Whilst in the pocket of his coatThe air grew keen and cold. The little squirrel lay.The old folks shiv'ring, drew their chairs As soon as Archie tried his skates,Close to the warm fireside; He got a desp'rate fall-The young ones hasten'd to the ponds, A fate awaiting ev'ry oneRejoiced to skate and slide. Who cannot skate at all!And many gather'd on the banks Poor Frisky getting bump'd and thump'd,The pleasant sight to see, Squeak'd out with fright and pain,Of skaters gliding o'er the ice And Archie thought it would not doSo quick and merrily. To serve him thus again.Now Archie thought that he should like So slipping off his over-coat,To try and learn to skate, In which the squirrel lay,Though quite aware that many falls He placed it gently on the ground,At first would be his fate. Supposing he would stayHe knew a pond near Carlton wood, Frisky, more frighten'd far than hurt,About a mile from home; Lay curl'd up like a ball,And there he thought he'd go, because Indulging in a fit of sulks,No other boys would come. Because he'd had a fall.His mother warn'd him to be sure Then Archie hasten'd back to skate,And leave before 'twas dark; And in his heart was gladAnd not to take the public road, No one was standing by to seeBut go across the park. The tumbles that he had.2
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Frisky, the Squirrel.But as he wisely persever'd, But suddenly whilst there he sat,He grew expert at last; He caught his master's eyes;And 'twas with much regret he found Who, shouting joyfully, ran off,His time of leave was past. Hoping to seize his prize.To fetch the squirrel and his coat " No, no," thought Frisky, "free I am,Was now the boy's first care; And free I mean to be!"Imagine then his great dismay So, just as Archie reach'd the gate,To find he was not there! He sprang upon a tree.He search'd about, but not a trace Over the gate with lightning speedOf Frisky could he see; His eager master flew,Except some nut-shells he had left No farther could he follow him,Beneath a neighb'ring tree. The cunning squirrel knew.At home, he always used to come So, climbing to an upper branch,In answer to his name; He sat there quite at ease,But now, though Archie loudly call'd, Seeming as if he thought it funNo little Frisky came. His master thus to tease.Yet all this time upon a gate For as poor Archie stood below,"Which led within the wood, In very mournful case,Scarcely a stone's throw from the pond, The rogue threw down some wither'dA little figure stood. Upon his upturn'd face! [leaves'Twas Frisky, }randishing his tail And then from tree to tree he sprang,And looking round with glee; Thinking it famous funMost likely thinking to himself, To keep his master going too"How sweet is liberty!" As fast as he could run.3
Frisky, the Squirrel.The wood was getting very dark, At length he sunk upon the ground,For now 'twas nearly night; Completely wearied out;,No longer could poor Archie keep His limbs felt stiff, his strength was goneThe squirrel in his sight. From wandering about.His heart was sad and sorrowful, Now very soon the moon arose,He felt all hope was o'er; With soft and silv'ry light;Frisky, too charm'd with liberty, And full of comfort to the boyWould come again no more! Was such a cheering sight.Another trouble now arose, He found that close beside him stoodHe found he'd lost his way; A large old hollow tree;And fear'd that in the lonely wood And thought that if he crept inside,He all night long must stay. Much warmer he would be.Fill'd with alarm, the boy began Some of the bark had crumbled off,Most bitterly to cry; Leaving an opening wide;He dreaded lest perhaps with cold And, putting in his hand, he foundAnd hunger he should die. A heap of leaves inside.Two long hours pass'd, yet there he was, These, being very soft and dry,Still toiling to and fro; Would serve him for a bed;As far as ever from the point But Archie would not go to restTo which he ought to go. Before his prayers were said.His teeth were chatt'ring with the cold, How thankfully he cal 'd to mindHis fingers numb'd by frost; That God could hear a prayer,And dreadful stories fill'd his mind Offer'd from church, or house, or wood-Of people who'd been lost. For God is ev'rywhere!4
Frisky, the Squirrel.He knelt with boyish confidence, "Archie, my lad!" the father cried,Protection to implore; "You've found a cosy placeAnd when he rose, no longer felt In which to sleep, whilst giving meAs lonely as before. A very anxious chase!Then through the op'ning I have nam'd " Wake up wake up and let us hasteWithin the tree he crept, To calm your mother's fear;And soon upon his leafy bed And tell me, as we walk along,He comfortably slept. What can have brought you here!"'At home, his absence after dark Archie arous'd, was quite perplex'dHad caused intense alarm, To think where he could be;Lest some occurrence unforeseen, He wonder'd much to find himselfHad brought the boy to harm. Inside a hollow tree!And anxiously they sallied forth, But as his memory recall dAnd sought him all around; All that had lately pass'd,But long in vain-no trace of him Thankful indeed was he to know. Could anywhere be found. That help had come at last.At length his father, in the search, And then he told them how he'd triedThe hollow tree espied; 'To follow Frisky's flight;He held his lantern to the hole, And wandering on, had been at lengthAnd threw its light inside. O'ertaken by the night.A joyful sight it must have been 'Tis scarcely needful here to tellHis truant boy to see, How great his mother's joy,Unhurt and safe, and slumb'ring sound, When safe and sound within her armsWithin the shelt'ring tree. She found her missing boy.5
Frisky, the Squirrel.Welcome to Archie's dazzled eyes All fun was over now; he knewThe cheerful room and light, 'Twas time to be in bed;And not less welcome, we suspect, And found it very cold to sitHis supper was to-night. Upon a bough instead.But more than ever now he miss'd At length he thought he'd scramble downHis merry little pet; Within the tree to peep;He thought of all his winning ways Where, as the reader is aware,And antics with regret. Archie was fast asleep.They both had liv'd so happily, At once the cunning fellow sawCompanions day by day; The best thing he could do,He felt as though a friend he lov'd Would be to creep within the hole,Were taken quite away. And go to sleep there too!All of a sudden Archie starts, He mov'd so very noiselessly,Then gives a joyous shout; No sound had Archie heard;No wonder! From his coat behold, Though Frisky slid inside his coat,The squirrel has sprung out! He neither woke nor stirr'd.Yes! there he'd been, he never thought So all this time, whilst he suppos'dOf running quite away; His little pet had fled,Though he had teased his master thus, There he was lying, warm and snug,It all had been in play. Within his usual bed.High on a branch he kept a watch And now he made him, understandOn Archie down below; By signs which Archie knew,And saw him when the moon appear'd That, having fasted like himself,Within the old tree go. He wanted supper too.6
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The Kiten's Mishap.He stretch'd his limbs, and washed his 'Tis said, as Frisky older grew,[faceAs soon as he'd been fed, [ He learnt to mend his ways,Then he and Archie, both tired out, And never after this eventWere glad to go to bed. Play'd truant all his days.I've finished now, my little friends,The tale I had to tell,And, hoping you have been amused,I bid you all farewell.THE KITTEN'S MISHAP.I'LL tell you a tale of a watery disaster;Of a cat and a kitten, and their little master;A tale it shall be, neither made up nor silly,Of two good little children, named Peggy and Willy.They were two little orphans, that lived on a common,In a very small house, with a very old woman..The old woman was feeble, rheumatic, and thin,And with very great labor she managed to spin:And all the day long, with unwearying zeal,From Monday to Saturday round went her wheel;Yet, with all her turning, she scarce could contriveTo earn the small pittance that kept them alive.Now the tale that I had in my mind to rehearse"Was related by Willy, though not told in verse.Said Willy, "Our cat had a kitten that layBehind my bed's head, on a cushion of hay;A beautiful kit, though a mischievous elf,And given to prowling, about by itself.Now one day the old.cat she squeaked and she mewed,With the wofullest vision that ever I viewed,7
The Ktten's Mishap.And she showed me the door, and she ran in and out;I couldn't conceive what the cat was about!At length I bethought that the creature was good,And she should have her way, let it be what it would;And no sooner she saw me inclined to obey,Then she set up her tail, and she scampered awayTo a pond not far off, where the kitten I foundIn an old broken basket, just sinking, half drowned-How ever it got there, I never could tell,For a cat hates the water-but so it befell.Perhaps some bad boy this action had done,To torture the kitten, and then call it fun;Yet that I don't know; but I soon got her out,And a terrible fright she had had, there's no doubt;'Twas a pitiful object-it drooped down its head,And Peggy for some time declared it was dead.But its heart was alive, spite the panic and pain,And it opened its eyes and looked up again:One poor little leg was swollen quite thick,As if it had had a bad blow from a stick;So we wrapped it all round with a bandage of list,Which the kitten was foolish enough to resist.Then we gave it some milk, and we dried its wet fur,And oh! what a pleasure there was in its purr!At length, when we saw that all danger was over,And that, well warmed and dried, it began to recover,We laid it in bed, on its cushion of hay,And wrapped it up snugly and bade it 'good day.'And then its poor mother gave over her mourning,And laid down and purred like the wheel that was turning;And she and the kitten, by care unperplexed,Slept, purred, and scarce stirred all that day and the next;Then scarcely a trace of her trouble she bore,Though meeker and graver than ever before."So here ends my tale of this watery disaster,Of the cat and the kitten, and their little master.
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