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COPYRIGHT 1884, BY DODD, MEAD & COMPANY.
Kate stopped on the
steps of the land-ing for a
mo-ment to say, Be sure
and come for us at half-past five, San-dy," and then ran up
af-ter her cous-in, Lou, with-out wait-ing to hear his heart-y
"Ay, ay, Miss," as the old sail-or picked up his oars and
took his place in the row-er's seat. When the girls had
8 LOU'S MISHAP.
reached the top of the steps they stood for a mo-ment to
watch the boat, as, un-der San-dy's firm stroke, it made its
way a-cross the har-bor, and in and out a-mong the ships
that lay at an-chor, un-til it reached the side of a trim look-
ing yacht. They saw the pain-ter made fast and San-dy
scram-ble up the lad-der, leav-ing the boat to rise and fall
i-dly on the waves. Then the girls turned and walked up
They were cous-ins. Kate's fa-ther had a yacht, the Sea
Gull, and ev-ery sum-mer he made up a par-ty and set out
for a month's cruise. There were four la-dies and gen-tle-
men on board be-sides him and Kate's mam-ma, and as it
would have been rath-er lone-ly for Kate to have had no
one with her, she had asked her cous-in Lou, who was
on-ly too glad to go.
The girls had had a most beau-ti-ful time. They had
been in ev-ery part of the yacht, and once when they were
near the fish-ing grounds they had gone off in the small
boat with San-dy and two oth-ers of the sail-ors to a fish-
ing smack whose men were draw-ing their nets, and had
se-cured some fresh fish for sup-per. It must be pret-ty
hard work, they thought, to fish all day as these men did,
and their boat did not smell at all pleas-ant-ly.
The girls had not been sea-sick, though they had had
some rough weath-er and all the la-dies on board had kept
in their berths.
Now they were ly-ing at an-chor in the har-bor of one of
the coast cit-ies where they had some school friends. Clara
and Maud had been out to the yacht the day be-fore, and
LOU'S MISHAP. 9
-A'_ .- .. .- ..
had ta-ken lunch with Lou and
Kate, and now in return they
had in-vit-ed them to pass the A
af-ter-noon on shore, where they
were to have a lit-tle par-ty.
Lou and Kate were ve-ry glad
to go, for they had been on the
wa-ter for ten days and a change
would be very pleas-ant.
The Sea Gull was to sail that night at six, and so they
io LOU'S MISHAP.
could not stay to tea as Maud and Clara had asked them;
but it was now on-ly two, so that they had more than three
hours' pleas-ure be-fore them.
They ran up the street, hand in hand, and soon found
Maud's house. On-ly a few of the girls who had been
asked had come as yet, but soon they be-gan drop-ping in,
two and three at a time, un-til there must have been as.
ma-ny as twen-ty.
They played ten-nis for a lit-tle, but that is rath-er hard
work for girls, and they liked cro-quet and arch-er-y bet-ter.
Then, when they were tired of games they all sat down
to-geth-er and told their new friends where they had been
on the yacht, and all the strange sights they had seen, and
af-ter that they chat-ted a-bout such things as girls talk
a-bout and the time flew by, as time al-ways does.
All at once Kate looked at -her watch and cried out,
"Why, Lou, it is near-ly half-past five. We must go at
It took a lit-tle time to say good-by to ev-ery one, and
then it was past the hour ap-point-ed. So the girls ran all
the way to the pier and reached it quite out of breath and
Af-ter all, they were in time, for though San-dy had left
the yacht he was not more than half way to them. They-
stood near the pier's edge look-ing down at the wa-ter be--
low. Sud-den-ly two dogs who were close to them be-gan.
to fight, and Lou tried to jump to one side, lost her bal-
ance and went o-ver head-long in-to the wa-ter.
Splash! went the wa-ter, and in-to and un-der it out of
LOU'S MISHAP. ii
sight went Lou. She had giv-en a shriek as she fell, and-
three or four men ran to her help, but be-fore they had
reached the spot from which she had fall-en, Kate had.
seized a rope that lay
coiled at her feet and
had thrown it af-ter
her friend. It was just
in time, for as Lou
came up to the sur-face she heard the
rope strike the wa-ter be-side her, and-
clutched it and held fast for dear life.
Two men jumped in-to a boat, and-
just as San-dy, who had seen the ac-ci-dent and had
rowed with all his might, had reached the land-ing, she
was pulled out all wet and be-dra!-gled.
12 LOU'S MISHAP.
It will nev-er do to take her to the yacht so wet," said
San-dy, she'll get her death of cold."
"Of course not," said a pleas-ant faced man; "my house
is just a-cross the road. Hur-ry there and my wife will
help you in-to dry clothes in no .time. Come this way,"
'and he hur-ried them in-to his house.
His wife made great haste to get Lou's things off, but
long be-fore all the but-tons were un-but-toned her teeth
were chat-ter-ing with cold. "You see we ran- down," ex-
plained Kate, and Lou was ve-ry warm when she fell in."
The wo-man made all the more haste to get off Lou's
,clothes, and soon had her in bed. Then she made her
.drink some hot tea, which for-tu-nate-ly was on the stove,
and mean-time sent her hus-band for the doc-tor. San-dy
had rowed back to the yacht, and Kate's mam-ma and
pa-pa were on their way shore-ward.
Lou felt much bet-ter when she had been rubbed hard
"with a rough tow-el, and was safe-ly tucked in-to bed. The
"doc-tor came in a min-ute or two, for he lived close by, and
gave her a lit-tle med-i-cine, and her un-cle and aunt were
soon with her. She felt some-what tired by all she had
been through with, and so, as she seemed drow-sy they left
her a-lone and she soon fell a-sleep. Kate bu-sied her-
self in hang-ing up all the wet clothes on a horse be-fore
the fire, and by the time that Lou waked they were all dry
for her to put on.
She seemed quite as well as ev-er when she was a-wake,
:and so she was dressed, and af-ter they had all said good-by
to the friends who had been so good to them, they made
LOU'S MISHAP. 13
their way back to the yacht. Lou took care to no-tice:
where she stepped this time, and San-dy said that it all
showed that one could get drowned much more eas-i-ly on.
land than at sea.
The Sea Gull did not
get out of the har-b:,r
that night, but the first
rays of the ris-ino sun
tne next morn-ing sh one oftr
S e ar Sails as she la-' o-vel tV:
the fresh breeze, and dain-l
ti-ly danced o-ver the waves,
leav-ing be-hind her the ci-ty. When the girls came on
deck there was noth-ing but a dis-tant cloud of smoke to
mark the spot where it stood.
14 THE MO USE.
The fate of this poor mouse seems to be sealed. Kit-ty
looks at 'him ve-ry hun-gri-ly, and the boy and girl do not
show any pi-ty for him in their fa-ces. So I see no hope
for him un-less when he is let out he is quick-er than Puss
and finds a hole to hide'in.
SONG OF THE BIRDS. 5
l\Ian-v voi-ces in the
Strike on the de-light-ed
_'oi-ces from the trees
lim -a-Ior 'e us,
S n Si ng to the o-pen-ing
Notes that seem
to come from
and sky so near.
Lit-tle birds, se-rene and
= Sur-Cly, in your up-ward
Ye are touched with Heav-
e are are bathed in Heaven's
Andl its col-ors and its
___s habd-o)\\ s
__Iake you crea-tures of de-
___ __ ___ -_ --__ light.
16 SONG OF THE BIRDS.
Hum-ming bird and state-ly par-rot,
On your crests and on your wings
Rain-bow hues are ev-er chang-ing,
Rain-bow beau-ty ev-er clings;
Have you vis-it-ed the rain-bow,
Pret-ty, spark-ling, paint-ed things?
SONG OF THE BIRDS. 17
Tell me, scar-let col-ored her-on,
Whose re-splen-dent plumage vies
With the glo-ry of the morn-ing
Just be-fore the .
Is indeed your,;. .
Sto-len from the
Lit-tle rob-in, lit-
Is the glow up-on
On-ly the re-flect-
Of the sun-set in
the west ?
Has the sun-set
tinged your bo-
Lit-tle bird that 1
I love best?
But the lit tle -
Ve-ry sweet their ..
voi-ces too! - -
18 SONG OF THE BIRDS.
Who are wrapped in rus-set man-ties,
Like the clouds of som-ber hue,-
Do you think be-neath that shad-ow
Is a garb of heav-en's own blue?
Do you think, to an-gels' glan-ces
They are clad like shin-ing flow-ers,
And their hues are on-ly gloom-y
Un-to eyes as dull as ours?
Oh, that we had hum-bler spir-its,
Pu-rer hearts, and keen-er pow-ers.
Lit-tie voi-ces in the wood-lands,
Lit-tle crea-tures in the air,
Sweet it is at morn and ev-en-ing,
Mu-sic float-ing ev-ery-where;
Dear to me your lit-tle voices,
Kind-ling hope and sooth-ing care.
AUTHOR OF POEMS WRITTEN FOR A CHILD.
These young ducks have come wad-dling down to the
pool to drink but find it fro-zen. They.find five or six
birds there and are quack-ing out their sur-prise that such
lit-tle birds should dare to go a-bout alone with-out a mam-
ma at least as big as their own.
Maud's pa-pa had failed. Maud did not know what
that meant, but she was sure that it was some-thing ve-ry
bad, for pa-pa came home in the ev-en-ing look-ing most
un-hap-py, and sat all the time with his head in his hands.
But the next morn-ing she found out what it meant, for
her mam-ma told her that they would have to leave their
nice house, for that and ev-ery thing in it would have to be
sold, and they would have to live in a small cot-tage which
had once be-longed to Maud's grand-mam-ma.
Well," said Maud, who was too young to know very
much of the change that was to come, well, I think it will
not be so bad at Rose Cot-tage. I was there once, and
there is a love-ly fiel dfor Kit-ty, and a nice sta-ble, too."
Kit-ty was the lit-tle bay mare, Maud's es-pe-cial pet.
She was so gen-tle that she could do any thing with her,
and with all her gen-tle-ness she was a spir-it-ed lit-tle beast
and could get over the road much fast-er than ma-ny a.
"But, my dear," said her mam-ma, we shall not have
Kit-ty. She will have to be sold."
"Sell Kit-ty," said Maud, "why, mam-ma, she's one of
the fam-i-ly," and the lit-tle girl wept and wailed most
But there was no help for it. Pa-pa said that ev-ery
thing would have to be sold and Kit-ty with the rest.
Maud's tears could not save the horse. Men came in a
day or two and made lists of the things, and Kit-ty was
put down with the rest.
Maud cried her-self to sleep that night, and when her
pa-pa went in-to her room to kiss her be-fore he went to
,bed, he found her cheek all wet with tears.
The day of the sale came at last. Kit-ty had a tag tied
on her hal-ter, "Lot 96." Mam-ma and Maud did not
stay in the house while the sale was go-ing on; Maud led
Kit-ty out of the sta-ble in-to the gar-den, and she and her
mnam-ma fed her with green grass, and Kit-ty, not know-
ing what was to be-fall her, ate a-way with all her might
and had a ve-ry good time. Mam-ma was al-most as fond
of her as Maud, and felt sad e-nough to think of los-ing-
her, but there seemed to be no help for it.
By and by a man came and took the horse, say-ing that
her turn to be sold would come in a few min-utes. Then
Maud and her mam-ma took a stroll down the lane, for
they could not bear to see what be-came of their pet.
They were gone for an hour, and when they came back
the sale.was o-ver. Kit-ty was off to her new own-er, and
carts were tak-ing out of the house the fur-ni-ture that had
been sold. The rooms looked emp-ty and bare, and Maud
said that she was glad that she had seen it in such con-fu-
sion, for now the new cot-tage would seem ev-er so much
bright-er and pleas-ant-er.
They went up stairs to mam-ma's room, where they were
to sleep that night. Noth-ing had been touched there, for
they were to take all the fur-nish-ings in that room to their
new home. Mam-ma sat by the win-dow, which was o-pen,
and Maud drew up a lit-tle stool and sat at her feet. She
was quite im-pa-tient now to get to the new home, and was
plan-ning to have one cor-ner of the gar-den all to her-self.
She had learned, too, that there was a lit-tle girl just her
own age who lived quite near. She knew noth-ing of her,
ex-cept that her name was Bell, and that her hair was ve-ry-
dark while her own was light. "I won-der if she is nice,'"
said Maud, a doz-en times o-ver.
By and by they had tea, in which pa-pa joined them,
It was not a ve-ry cheer-ful meal, for they had on-ly bread
and tea, be-cause the serv-ants had been sent a-way, and
the house was so up-turned, but Maud was quite hun-gry
and chat-ted a-way, tell-ing her pa-pa how pleas-ant she
meant to make her own room in the new home. It was a
ti-ny room up un-der the roof, but it had a big win-dow
with a broad seat, where Maud could curl her-self up and
look down the high-way to the val-ley be-low.
As soon as they had had their break-fast the next morn-
ing, the cab came to take them to the rail-way. Rose Cot-
tage was on-ly ten miles a-way, and Maud and her mam-ma
were to go to it by train while the fur-ni-ture was to be
packed in a big van and dragged all the way by hors-es.
Their lug-gage was all piled on top, and at last they
were off, al-though her mam-ma had to wait a few min-utes
for Maud, who wished to take a last look at all her old
fa-vor-ite spots. Soon they were in the train, and in an
hour from the time they left their old home they were just
en-ter-ing the new. There was the green field stretch-ing
a-way at the back which Maud had said would be so nice
for Kit-ty. She looked at it, and what was that she saw?
A lit-tle horse, and it seemed to her just like Kit-ty.
" Mam-ma," she cried, look there." The horse heard
her voice and lift-ed up her head and trot-ted toward them.
It was Kit-ty and no oth-er. On her hal-ter was a tag, and
on this they read, "A pres-ent for Maud from a friend."
Maud's de-light knew no bounds. She hugged first her
mam-ma and then Kit-ty. The horse seemed as pleased as
she. She rubbed her nose a-gainst her, can-tered a-round the
field and came back to her a-gain. Maud de-clared that
now she was per-fect-ly hap-py, and she fol-lowed her mam-
ma in and went up to her own room with great de-light.
The room was quite as pleas-ant as she had ex-pect-ed,
-nd Maud was soon as hap-py in her new home as in
her old. Bell turned out to be the ve-ry nic-est kind of a
girl, and they played to-geth-er ev-ery day. Of-ten they
took drives be-hind Kit-ty, for her cart had come with her
and she was quite as pleased as Maud with her new home.
26 THE SICK CHILD.
THE SICK ,CHILD.
Bird are you sing-ing to me
Perched on my own win-dow-sill?
Can you, in your lit-tle brain,
Knowl-edge have and thought re-tain,
That I am ly-ing here in pain,
Weary, weak, and ill?
Is that pret-ty mu-sic mine?
Sweet-er I have nev-er heard;
As each pleas-ant lit-tle note
Leaps from your ex-ul-tant throat,
Like the sun they seem to shine,
Oh! you friend-ly bird!
Bird, are-you sing-ing to me?
Sing-ing of wood and of dell?
Of the flow-ers I used to take,
Of the nut trees I would shake,
Of the fish-ing on the lake,
Have you come to tell?
Sing-ing, sing-ing joy-ful-ly,
Joy-ful-ly my heart is stirred.
None so blithe and brave as I,
; Stan-ding neathh my own blue sky,
Such the dream you bring to me,
You de-light-ful bird.
/ pi3a . I' r
L_ ;i _i __*
28 TOM HUNT.
Bird, are you sing-ing to me?
Ah! but the win-ter is near!
Then your foot will find no rest,
And the snow will be your nest;.
You will seek, with beak dis-trest,
Food that is not here.
Faith-ful to our friend-ship I-
You may take me at my word--
Bread and milk shall greet you still
At the pleas-ant win-dow sill,
That you nev-er yet flew by,
Dar-ling lit-tle bird.
AUTHOR OF POEMS WRITTEN FOR A CHILD.
Tom Hunt went fish-ing one af-ter-noon. He bor-
rowed his fa-ther's boat and his bas-ket and lines. Then
he pad-dled out and tied fast to a stake and bait-ed his
hooks. Then he sat down and wait-ed for a bite. But not
a fish came near him. And be-fore he knew it he was fast
a-sleep. He slept so sound-ly that a king-fish-er came and
light-ed on the bow, look-ing for his din-ner in the wa-ter
be-low and nev-er dream-ing that a-ny one, least of all a
boy, was with-in a mile of him. The king-fish-er did not
seem to have any bet-ter luck than Tom, and he looked as
if he was a-sleep, too. But I fan-cy that if a-ny lit-tle
o30 TOM HUNT.
min-now had sailed by, think-ing that the bird was in the
land of Nod, he would soon have found out his mis-take.
To-by, Tom's pug dog, missed his mas-ter and hunt-ed
ev-ery-where for him. He ev-en came down to the stream
and barked, in hopes of hear-ing an an-swer-ing whis-tle.
But though he sniv-eled up his nose and sniffed up the
:air, not a trace of him could To-by smell, for his mas-ter
was too far a-way.
Jack, his great friend, came o-ver to ask him to come and
help gath-er ap-ples, for his pa-pa had said that the har-vest
ap-ples were ripe, and that the boys might pick them. But
TOM HUNT. 31
Jack could not find him, for he
had told no one that he was
go-ing fish-ing, and no one had
seen him when he set out.
So Jack went home to gath-
er the fruit a-lone.
At last, when Tom had been
a-sleep a cou-ple of hours, a big
and hun-gry fish came a-long.
He saw the bait and swal-
lowed it in a min-ute. Then
he swam a-way with the hook
fast in his mouth. The float
went un-der and he gave such
.a hard twitch at the pole that
it rat-tled a-bout in the boat
.and made a good deal of
Tom woke up just in time
to see the pole jump out of the
boat and sail a-way. He un-
tied his boat and pad-dled af-
ter it, but the fish was much fas-ter than he, and he
never saw the pole a-gain. And so he went home and
won-dered what his pa-pa would say when he knew his
pole was lost.
32 THE VOICE OF THE GRASS.
THE VOICE OF THE
Here I come creep-ing,
By the dust-y road-side,
On the sun-ny hill-side,
"Close by the nois-y brook,
In ev-ery sha-dy nook,
I come creep-ing,
Here I come creep-ing,
All round the o-pen door,
Where sit the a-ged poor;
Here where the chil-dren
In the bright and mer-ry
I come creep-ing,
THE VOICE OF THE GRASS. 33
Here I come creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where;
In the nois-y ci-ty street
My pleas-ant face you'll meet,
Cheer-ing the sick at heart
Toil-ing his bu-sy part-
Si-lent-ly creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where.
Here I come creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where;
You can not see me com-ing,
Nor hear my low sweet hum-ming;
For in the star-ry night,
And the glad morn-ing light,
I come qui-et-ly, creep-ing ev-ery-where.
Here I come creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where;
More wel-come than the flow-ers
In Sum-mer's pleas-ant hours;
The gen-tle cow is glad,
And the mer-ry bird not sad,
To see me creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where.
Here I come creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where;
My hum-ble song of praise,
Most joy-fully I raise
To Him at whose com-mand
I beau-ti-fy the land
Creep-ing, si-lent-ly creep-ing, ev-ery-where.
34 TED BLACK
It ,as al-most Christ-mas
time, and ev-ery night lit-tle
Tel ,, Black (dreamed of San-ta
S Claus. \ ihen his small head
v\\as ,on the Ipl-low, you might
I o hae thot -dht it at rest, but no,
it i+ s harl at work. It was
i- '' :uild-in .." reoat Christ-mas trees
tup111) the branch-es and
toi)(k d-own the stuffed
"st".Ick -ings that hung
+. ,. fi, + ,I, .t.
_T-d thought that
(h1rist-mas would nev-
"-e. _,ztilli Went SO Slowly.
But it didl come at last, and Ted
i; n II Ih his stcck-int ma-ny a nice thing.
TED BLACK. 35
I can-not stop to tell you what they were, but there was
one that he liked very much, and that was a pair of skates.
"There was a pond in plain sight from his house, and there
Mas-ter Ted meant to try them. He was on-ly a lit-tle
-shav-er, but he could skate a bit al-rea-dy.
Whew! how cold it was. The ground was cov-ered
with snow, and the birds who could find nothing to eat
came hop-ping a-
bout the kitch-en
door, glad e-nough /
of the crumbs that w,-
cook threw out to :
them. Those who
lived in the woods,
and had no friends to help them, had to hop
a-bout on the snow or sit on the branch-es
...... of the trees to keep them-selves warm, and
hope that the weath-er would change for
--the bet-ter soon.
But Ted did not care for the cold, not
he. When he saw the new skates in his
Christ-mas stock-ing he gave a squeal of
36 TED BLACK.
de-light. He want-ed to skate all the morn-ing, but his
mam-ma said that he must wait un-til to-mor-row, for his.
cous-in Madge was com-ing to spend the day with him.
SBut the next af-ter-noon he was down
at the piund as soon as din-ner was.
o-vIr, and soon had on the new
There were a good
S, ma-ny peo-ple on the
pond, and so his mam-
ma did not feel a-fraid
to have him go alone.
A Be-sides, from her win--
dow she could watch him un-less he went ve-ry far a-way.
Mas-ter Ted had a fine time. He quite de-spised peo-
ple who did not have skates,
and who thought slid-ing fun.
He dart-ed a-bout from one side
of the pond to the oth-er in
fine style, and at last start-ed off
for a trip up the lake.
Mean-time the clouds had
been gath-er-ing and it had be-
gun to snow. The flakes came
down, at first light-ly, then they
grew thick-er and thick-er un-til
they shut out the view.
Ted's mam-ma was ve-ry much
wor-ried that he did not come
TED BLACK. 37
-- home, and she was
glad e-nough when
she saw his pa-pa
e com- ng to the
house through the
._ pa-pa set out at
once to find his
_.- g-- boy, and it was
Swell that he did,
-1 for Mas-ter Ted
had twist-ed his an-
kle so that he could
He was o-ver-joyed to see his pa-pa com-ing, for the pain
was ve-ry great and he was ly-ing at full length on the
snow cry-ing, for he was
on-ly a lit-tle boy, and he
was fright-ened at be-
His pa-pa picked him
*up and car-ried him
home in no time, but
he could not skate a-ny
more that win-ter be-
cause his an-kle was so
38 A HUNGRY VISITOR.
A HUNGRY VISITOR.
A starved lit-tle Rob-in sat perched on a spray,
While Ma-ry was eat-ing her break-fast one day,
The room was so warm and the food was so nice,
While poor lit-tle Rob-in felt cold-er than ice,
He hopped from the spray to the broad win-dow sill,
And tapped on the glass with his sharp lit-tle bill.
When Ma-ry dis-cov-ered his bright search-ing eyes,
It gave her-oh! such a de-light-ful sur-prise.
She ran to the win-dow and o-pened it wide:
You dear lit-tie dar-ling, oh! do come in-side.
He en-tered at once, for you see he was cold,
And hun-ger had made him both fear-less and bold.
He pecked at the loaf, and the but-ter he ate,
De-vour-ing his food at a ter-ri-ble rate.
And what did he next? Just as bold as could be,
He at-tempt-ed to bathe in a sau-cer of tea.
Thus fed and re-freshed, he next pol-ished his bill,
And stepped like a gen-tle-man out on the sill.
Now Ma-ry most ear-nest-ly wished him to stay,
It vexed her to think of his fly-ing a-way;
She had an old cage which had once held a lin-net,
Though for days and for weeks there had been noth-ing in it.
A HUNGRY VISITOR. 39
Do stay, lit-tle Ro-bin, she cried
The gar-den is cold, not a scrap
you'll find there.
But Ro-bin looked back
and his look seemed
I'd rath-er go now; but
some oth-er cold day
I'll glad-ly re-turn and
par-take of your food,
For real-ly I find it re-
I'm thank-ful to know
there are chil dren
Who'll feed a poor Rob-
in and com-fort him
-.., ,i '
.)' ., : .-."- --
40 JA CK AND TWILL.
S. }da t, anc t ,hey i-ci-ded t hey
S\woulld spend tie hole day
fish-inr. Theiy NV.oulld oO to
Sleea-dow Brook and take
their dlin-ner with them, and
not come home un-til sup-per
"time. So they took their
lines and start-ed off down
the road. "Be sure," said
J their fa-ther, as they start-ed,
"to go by the road, and do
not come home a-cross Squire
They had a beau-ti-ful time
at first. The fish bit well,
and they caught sev-er-al big fel-lows. By ten o'clock they
JACK AND WILL. 41
"What do you say to tak-ing a lunch," said Jack.
Will a-greed, and they de-ci-ded to eat on-ly a lit-tle, but
they were so hun-gry that be-fore they knew it they had
fin-ished it all.
The fish did not bite so well after that, and the sun grew
ve-ry warm, and by one o'clock the boys were hun-gry
"Let's go home," said Jack.
"If we cut a-cross lots we could get there in time for
din-ner," said Will.
"But pa-pa told us not to," said Jack, "and be-sides
there are cows in the field."
"Whose a-fraid of cows," said Will. "Why ev-en lit-tle
S .- 4.- ,. ^ ,^- '.
-' -'' ,I-
I f (S U I
S'" : -: -_ -L_ -.- -" "- -
42 JACK AND WILL.
Sis-ter Bess goes out in our field and does-n't mind them
at all. They are all gen-tle, I am sure."
So say-ing, Mas-ter Will climbed the fence and Jack
I have of-ten no-ticed that boys who think that they
know more than their pa-rents find them-selves mis-tak-en,
and so did Jack and Will. They were ve-ry naugh-ty to
dis-o-bey their pa-pa, and they soon found it out.
They had not gone more than half way a-cross the field
when Will looked a-round and saw a bull com-ing at them.
He was still some dis-tance a-way, but his head was down
and he seemed ve-ry fierce.
Close at hand was a tree with branch-es low down. In-to
this the two boys clam-bered just in the nick of time. Up
came the bull and pawed and tore the ground and bel-lowed,
but they were out of his reach and he could not hurt them.
He was very an-gry though, and the boys be-gan to think
he would nev-er go. He wan-dered a-way a short dis-tance,
but the min-ute they moved he ran back. How hun-gry
they grew. It be-came late. Two, three, four o'clock,
then five passed. Not a per-son came in sight. '
At last at half past five the bull went a-way to the ve-ry
fur-ther side of the field, and the boys got down and made
a run for the fence and scram-bled o-ver it out of his reach.
We had bet-ter have done as pa-pa said," ex-claimed
Jack. Yes," said Will.
But their troub-les were not yet o-ver, for they had still
some dis-tance to go, and they felt ve-ry tired and ve-ry
hun-gry. They had be-gun a-cross lots, and now they must
JACK AND WILL. 43,
keep on. As they passed a la-bor-er's cot-
tage in one of the fields, a say-age dog
ran at them and fright-ened them. For-
tu-nate-ly his mis-tress saw him just in
time and called him back. But there were
nev-er two more thank-ful
boys than Jack and Will .
when they were safe-ly at .. .. ...
home and when they had
told the sto-ry of their \
naugh-ti-ness to their pa-pa.
They had had such a flight
that he said he thought they
had been pun-ished e-noug1h, "" .
and had learned a use-ful les-
son, and so they had, for that
night when they were get-ting
in-to bed I heard Jack say,
"Will, I think pa-pa knows
bet-ter than we af-ter
all, and I'm go-ing to
do just as he says af-ter
this." "So am I," add-
Won-der-ful white Win-ter!
I must clap my hands at you;
You are old and I am cold,
And there's noth-ing else to do.
You and I are glad, are glad,
When the snow comes creep-ing -
And ice-drops fair leap out of the
To han ii,- on the )ranch-cs 1bro n. -
XWon-der-ful 1\hite W\in-ter!
W\'ae \your love-l\ sno-\-\vhite
Sig-nal make till riv-er andl lake
Form the ice that is so craInd!
Oh, the ice is dear, is dear:
Faith-less friend, changed by a
Smoutli and s\weet to glid-ing feet,
" Glid-ing o- er o- rim death! --------
Won-der-ful white Win-ter!
I will make a league with you;
You must know of want and woe,
Tell me what I ought to do!
I must feed your lit-tle birds?
Shel-ter to the home-less lend ?
Com-fort and aid the poor and a-fraid ?
That I will, my brave old friend!
-AUTHOR OF POEMS WRITTEN FOR A CHILD,
Here we have a beg-gar boy with his dog. They both
of them look ve-ry poor, but the dog shares all that his,
mas-ter gets, and they are the best of friends.
.46 TOM AND SARAH.
Tom and Sa-rah on their way to school have stopped to
-t Z- os
speak to a lit-tle boy they know whose name is Pe-ter.
. |V 1- . :--.
I L Cl LL
Return of Spring.
God shied ye, heralds of the spring,
Ye faithful swallows, fleet of wing,
IHoups, cuckoos, nightingales,
Turtles, and every wilder bird
That make your hundred chirpings heard
Through the green woods and dales.
God shield ye, bright. embroidered train
Of butteilies, that on the plain,
Of each sweet herblet sip;
And ye, new swarms of bee;, that go
Wher4 the' pink flowers and yellow grow,
To kiss them with your lip.
SA.hundred.thousand times I call
-A hearty welcome on ye all
T this season howv I love,
This merry din on every shore,
For winds and sterrus -whose sullen roar
Forbade my steps to rove.
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I ...... .... ......
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