• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Table of Contents
 Lottchen's nest
 Our friend Jack
 The conceited parrot
 Little Boy Blue
 The owls in the ivy bush
 The little red ball
 Hilda's birthday
 The queen of dentists
 Three frogs
 Black looks
 The boy who had all he wished...
 The fairy pitcher
 A northern light
 Mrs. Puff and her little ones
 Sharks' bay
 The dwarf
 Wow-wow
 Two Christmas stories
 Advertising
 Back Cover
 Spine






Group Title: Just one more tale : a second collection of short original stories for children from four to ten years of age
Title: Just one more tale
CITATION PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00054406/00001
 Material Information
Title: Just one more tale : a second collection of short original stories for children from four to ten years of age : being a companion volume to "Please tell me a tale"
Alternate Title: Please tell me a tale
Physical Description: 158, 2 p. : ill. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Baring-Gould, S. ( Sabine ), 1834-1924 ( Author, Primary )
Charlton, Frances E. ( Author, Secondary )
Clare, Frances ( Author, Secondary )
Coleridge, Christabel R. ( Christabel Rose ), 1843-1921 ( Author, Secondary )
Jenner, Amabel ( Author, Secondary )
Massey ( Lucy Fletcher ) ( Author, Secondary )
Neale, Philip H ( Author, Secondary )
Skey, L. C ( Author, Secondary )
Southwell, Edmund M ( Author, Secondary )
Wilmot-Buxton, Helen A ( Author, Secondary )
Yonge, Charlotte Mary, 1823-1901 ( Author, Secondary )
Skeffington & Son ( Publisher )
Publisher: Skeffington & Son
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: 1886
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1886   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1886   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1886
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by S. Baring-Gould, Frances E. Charlton, Frances Clarke, Miss C.R. Coleridge, Amabel Jenner, Mrs. Massey, Phillip H. Neale, L.C. Skey, Edmund M. Southwell, Helen A. Wilmot-Buxton, Charlotte M. Yonge.
General Note: Frontispiece printed in red.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements follow text.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00054406
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002232339
notis - ALH2731
oclc - 65537473

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page i
    Half Title
        Page ii
        Page iii
    Frontispiece
        Plate
    Title Page
        Page iv
        Page v
    Dedication
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Lottchen's nest
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
    Our friend Jack
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
    The conceited parrot
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
    Little Boy Blue
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
    The owls in the ivy bush
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    The little red ball
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
    Hilda's birthday
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
    The queen of dentists
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
    Three frogs
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
    Black looks
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
    The boy who had all he wished for
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
    The fairy pitcher
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
    A northern light
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
    Mrs. Puff and her little ones
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
    Sharks' bay
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
    The dwarf
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
    Wow-wow
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
    Two Christmas stories
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
    Advertising
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text

4. -N .



als"





BME
III



:t:;. . -,.,-.:.
,:.. ITT ,


4i"


.'Al







-. ,.A.
-.7
A .7zr











\, ~
I~i

F ~P,2*.-,., i




























































The Baldwin Library
Univrsitv

S------ --






~,p~ns
s. O~-~L~PS
de(c~,n~cLM




















JUST ONE MORE TALE.








L~7"IILec,















7~1~
d r
._~-.-jZ
.r
i .'4
,r
-r
T13 r- ~Sr ~
? ;!~,-1;,1 ~

n ; ~, ,-lnl;r
5 4 5 '''
c~ II.
Ih
i J
-" i'
r/ ~i Ir
:. -!, .'I
~~A~d~-s~cl

4~i~i~j ya:
I' r ,-

/ ~y~ ~jYnTC--~-~ ~91(R&=;~;L~:~81B~~5:
~~dn~I~un I;
~'', I~ I ; ,



''/ L:~b1~7



ly,! r
; I 'ri .jl
i
lii
.I Iii ,r
_3










- ..







JUST


ONE MORE TALE.


A SECOND COLLECTION OF SHORT ORIGINAL STORIES
FOR CHILDREN FROM FOUR TO TEN
YEARS OF AGE.

Being a Companion Volume to

PLEASE TELL ME A TALE.




BY
S. BARING-GOULD. MRS. MASSEY.
FRANCES E. CHARLTON. PHILIP H. NEALE.
FRANCES CLARE. L. C. SKEY.
MISS C. R. COLERIDGE. EDMUND M. SOUTHWELL.
AMABEL JENNER. HELEN A. WILMOT-BUXTON.
CHARLOTTE M. YONGE.






LnOIIOII :
SKEFFINGTON & SON, 163, PICCADILLY, W.

1886

















THE remarkable success of a previous volume, PLEASE TELL
ME A TALE," convinced the Editor that his first effort to provide
a series of bright and attractive stories really suitable for young
Children had not been in vain; while many juvenile readers and
their friends have not since failed to remind him that the youthful
appetite is not easily satisfied, and that the further ptla which forms
the title of this new volume is very frequently advanced. To meet
this demand he has obtained from many kind writers an entirely
new series of specially-written tales, and if it only obtains anything
like the same number of approving little readers as did its pre-
decessor, he will have the satisfaction of knowing that his second
endeavour has also been crowned with complete success.























DEDICATED TO


Elinor OorotlIp 33artlrtt,

Ci-bluarb pbn h te ttrbilan,












N\








CONTENTS.


TITLE. AUTHOR'S NAME. PAGE.
LOTTCHEN'S NEST ... Helen A. Wilinot-Buxton I

OUR FRIEND JACK ... Mrs. Massey ... 14

THE CONCEITED PARROT .. Frances E. Charlton ... 28

LITTLE BOY BLUE ... Frances Clare ... 33

THE OWLS IN THE IVY BUSH L. C. Skey ... 38

THE LITTLE RED BALL ... Miss C. R. Coleridge ... 44

HILDA'S BIRTHDAY ... Ars. Massey ... 53

THE QUEEN OF DENTISTS... Rev. S. BaringZ-Gould ... 60

THREE FROGS ... Amtabel Jenner ... 70

BLACK IOOKS ... Charlotte M. Yonge ... 76

THE BOY WHO HAD ALL HE
WISHED FOR ... Frances Clare ... 87

THE FAIRY PITCHER ... Mrs. Massey ... 95

A NORTHERN LIGHT ... Frances E. Charlton ... o10

MRS. PUFF AND HER LITTLE
ONES ... ... L. C. Skey ... 115

SHARKS' BAY ... ... Philip Neale ... I21

THE DWARF ... ... Edmund M. Southwell... 131

Wow-Wow ... ... Rev. S. Baring-Gould ... 138

Two CHRISTMAS STORIES ... Frances Clare ... 153





















For CHILDREN, in specially designed, most elegant and artistic
Binding, White, Terra Cotta, or Rich Deep Blue.
Price 3s 6d.; by post, 3s. 9d.

PLEASE TELL ME A TALE!

A New and Original Collection of Short Tales, to be read or told
to Children from four to ten years of age, by Miss YONGE,
S. BARING GOULD. MISS CO.ERIDGE, MRS. MASSEY, MISS
WILMOT-BUXTON, MR. A. M. HEATHCOTE, and other eminent
authors. Certainly one of the most elegant and attractive Chil-
dren's Books of the season.

"Overwhelmingly attractive."- Yorkshire Post.
"A high place must be given to this volume of capital stories."
-The Scotsman.
Will be welcome in any family where young children are to be found."
-M-lorning Post.
We seldom meet with such a charming collection of tales most
tastefully got up in a delicate and really beautiful binding."
--Literary Churchman.

SKEFFINGTON & SON, 163, PICCADILLY, W.
















BY HELEN A. WILMOT-BUXTONV



HERE was a little girl who lived in a tree. Of
course she was a very little girl, and the tree
very big, or else how possibly could she manage
it. Well, she did manage it, somehow, and the queerest
part of it is, she found it very comfortable.
Lottchen was the name of the little girl, and she lived in
a tree because her Father, who was a wood-cutter, did not
like to leave her all alone, in the little village, when he went
to the forest to cut down trees. In the winter, he took
her back to his cottage ; but throughout the entire summer
Lottchen lived in the tree, in the midst of a big forest.
" The birds have nests of their own, and so why should
not Lottchen ? said her Father. So he made a nice, soft,
snug, little nest in the hollow trunk of the great tree, and
Lottchen crept in through the hole, and was as warm and
comfortable as a little owl. Every morning, quite early,
the wood-cutter would awaken her, and give her her break-
fast-a mug of milk, and as much bread as she could
A







2 Eottc)en' j2tat.

eat. And then he would put a basket in her hand, which
contained her dinner and tea, and told her to amuse
herself till he came back in the evening.
How happy Lottchen felt when she first woke up, and
peeped out of her snug nest, on those summer mornings.
The forest was all wet with dew; and sparkling diamonds
hung from every branch and twig. Lottchen could watch
the sunbeams dancing over the ground and filling the
darkest, coolest corner with warmth and brightness; and
when the birds whistled and sang to her, she clapped her
hands with joy. She never felt lonely, though she had no
one but the pretty squirrels and glittering flies to play with,
for there was always so much to see and hear in the great
green forest, in which she lived.
Her Father told her she might go and play in the pine-
wood, and collect fir apples with which to make a bonfire,
and that, so long as she did not try to climb the trees
beyond, she might do just what she liked. But further
than the pine-wood, Lottchen was forbidden to go.
Father," said Lottchen, why may I not go further
than the pine-wood?"
Because Father tells you not, my little maid," said the
wood-cutter.
But," said Lottchen, I have seen all that is to be
seen everywhere else, and the sunshine looks prettier over
there, beyond the wood, than here."
"That is only because it is a long way off, little maid,"







XLottcdrn' oegt. 3

said the wood-cutter. "When things are a way off they
always look prettier than they do near at hand."
Tell me what there is beyond the dark wood, Father,"
asked Lottchen.
There is the same sunshine that we have here, little
maid, and the same shadows, and the butterflies sip the
honey, and the bees buzz in the opening buds, much the
same as they do here."
But you told me once there was some water, which
looked like silver, and made music among the stones," said
Lottchen.
"Yes, so there is, and some day I'll take you there, to
see it," said the wood-cutter.
Then you told me there were great hills, that went to
the clouds," said Lottchen; hills which are covered with
snow in the winter."
So there are," said the wood-cutter.
"Ah how I wish I might go there," said Lottchen.
"That may not be, my maid," said the wood-cutter,
"Go and try to catch me some sunbeams-see, they are
dancing away from you-that's because you are naughty
and want to do what I tell you not ; the sunbeams will
run away from you and leave you cold and dull."
Lottchen flung her arms about her Father's neck and
kissed him; and he took up his axe and sallied forth to
hew down trees.
Lottchen went to the shadiest and most beautiful part







4 RLottcl*en's afst.

of the forest to eat her breakfast. She had piled together
some moss-covered stones, some of which she called her
table, and upon which she put her mug of milk and bread;
the other was her chair. It was a very pretty breakfast
room, I can tell you. Its ceiling was made of twisted
branches and fluttering leaves, and there were endless
sky-lights through which bright sunbeams came down upon
Lottchen's head. Then it was carpeted with rich green
moss, and furnished with ivy-covered stumps, and altogether
it was the prettiest parlour possible. Sometimes Lottchen
would have a visitor, in the shape of a bird. The bird
would hop about her, expecting crumbs, and after break-
fast he would sing her a song if he were not too busy; or
a rabbit would peep out at her, and then scamper off, right
away into the fern. Then there were the pretty shining
beetles, and gorgeous butterflies; the soft velvety cater-
pillars, the bees and gnats, all so busy, and full of life and
movement.
But, to-day, Lottchen did not seem to notice these things.
She was thinking of the water, and the hills, beyond the
wood.
Oh dear me," said Lottchen, how I do wish I might
go and find them out, and I believe there are all manner of
pretty things over there, beyond the fir-wood, besides."
Then she got up and chased the squirrels till she was
tired. Then she went to the edge of the pine-wood to look
at the zigzag paths, that went down-down-down, till they






Lottcd)n's 8rt. 5

disappeared altogether. Wherever could they lead-some-
where where the great hills were, and the water which
made music with the stones.
I think," said Lottchen, I must go and see-I really
think I must."
Lottchen hesitated a minute. Her Father had told her
not to go. If she went she would be disobeying him; but
she wanted so much to go.
So she went.
Down, down, down among green trees, and tangled
ferns, and many-tinted mosses. The zigzag path turned
and twisted, now radiant with sunshine, now cool, and
dark, and wet, now light again. Up, up, up, among green
hills and nodding grasses, bright flowers and beautiful in-
sects-first up, then down.
It is very nice," said Lottchen, I wonder where it will
lead to. I suppose I shall come to the very big hills pres-
ently, and to the water which looks like silver, but they are
a long, long way. Oh! how funny," she cried, a minute
after, there's a lot of water being thrown down from a
hill-there must be a giant up there ; and oh what a
noise it makes-if he goes on throwing water like that we
shall all be drowned, I expect."
Lottchen had come to a waterfall. She had never seen
one before, and it delighted her. She stopped to look at it.
How I should like to be up there and help the giant
throw it down," she cried, clapping her hands, What fun







6 0ottcbtn's fOert.

it would be. I wonder how the water gets up there-perhaps
the giant takes it up in a pail, like Father."
Then she went on, and every minute the wood became
more beautiful. The trees grew thicker and thicker, and
heaps of stones lay piled about, all covered with moss.
Sometimes a bird whistled in the distance, or a leaf fell,
but save these sounds, and the dash of the waterfall, all
was silent. The hills rose higher and higher, till at last
they seemed to reach the sky.
I do believe they go up to the clouds," said Lottchen.
" How I should like to go up there, and see what they are
made of."
As she went higher, the sun seemed to get lower. Lott-
chen had brought her basket with her, so she sat down
now to eat her dinner. She went on after that till so
tired that she thought she would rest awhile. She rested
accordingly, and soon fell fast asleep. When she woke up,
the sun was tumbling down behind the trees, and a mist,
like a gossamer veil, was coming up from the valley, to wrap
up the hills, to keep them warm for the night.
I suppose it is time to go home," said Lottchen, rubbing
her eyes. I'll turn back, and try to get up to the clouds
some other day."
She turned accordingly, but did not know which path to
take-it all looked so different, and so black, that she began
to feel frightened.
And on the poor little wanderer went, but every step took






Rottcl~jn'e fict. 7

her farther from home. Then she heard a loud clap of
thunder, and a beautiful flash of lightning danced before
her eyes, almost blinding her by its brilliancy. The thunder
had scarcely died away before the rain came, and poor
Lottchen was soon drenched to the skin.
Flash followed flash, peal followed peal, and the rain beat
down faster and fiercer.
Oh dear! oh dear!" sobbed Lottchen, the giant is
going to drown me, I know he is."
She began to cry bitterly then, thinking how naughty she
had been. She buried her face in her hands to hide the
lightning, and called upon her Father to come and carry
her home. But when the thunder had rolled away, and
the lightning ceased, and there was no sound but the plash
of the rain among the leaves, she ventured to look up, and
saw through the boughs some twinkling stars. Soon the
moon came peeping out from behind the clouds, and the
wet forest looked so lovely, and glittered so prettily, that
Lottchen forgot her dripping clothes, and went off in search
of some dry corner to sleep in. But there was no dry cor-
ner-and she began to cry again. Then, all at once, she
saw a light gleaming in the distance, and she left off crying
and ran towards it. She found it came from a kind of
cottage, or rather log hut; and she hesitated at the door, half
afraid to rap. Presently she ventured to do so, and the
door was at once opened by an old woman.
Please may I come in," said Lottchen.







8 R.ottcdLn'is Pet.

Who are you, and where do you come from ?" asked
the old woman, roughly.
I am Lottchen, and I live in a tree, and I have lost my
way," said Lottchen.
The old woman drew her in, and made her dry her wet
clothes before the fire.
Then she gave her some soaked crusts for supper, and
put her to bed, grumbling all the time. Lottchen was afraid
to tell the old woman how disobedient she had been. She
made up her mind to get up early and run away home,
before the old woman was out of bed.
The early sunshine awoke her, and she jumped up and
ran away, leaving the old woman asleep.
She was very hungry, but so impatient to get home that
she almost forgot it.
Lottchen wandered all that day, but she did not reach
home. Once out of the right path, it seemed so hard to get
back to it. The bright sunshine did not seem nearly so
pretty to-day; poor Lottchen was so tired. Up and down
the zigzag paths, in and out, down, down, down, up, up,
up; now up to the clouds, now down to the bottom of every-
thing, and still just as far as ever from her little nest.
Oh! what a big wood it is," sighed Lottchen. I don't
believe I shall ever get to the end, and I am so hungry."
Then Lottchen came to a great stream of water which
prevented her from going any further, and she stood on the
shore looking at it.






xLottcjdn's, fltt. 9

The sun became hotter and hotter; and near the stream
there were no trees. Even the rushes stood quite still, and
there was not a cloud to be seen in the sky.
A huge raft came slowly into sight presently. A raft is a
great flat boat, upon which people live, and upon which wood
is carried from the great forests in Germany.
Lottchen beckoned to the men to take her on board, but
they did not see her, and soon the raft was out of sight.
Then Lottchen lay down among the rushes to try to go to
sleep. The moon had come out, and was shining over the
water. Sometimes the grasshoppers in the long grass chirped,
sometimes a water-rat peeped out from the sedge, and went
plash into the stream. Then the frogs made their strange,
weird cries, so that, in spite of the silence of the night, there
was plenty to listen to. Lottchen had filled her pockets
with berries, and these she ate for supper. She felt dread-
fully hungry, and very unhappy, so that her eyes kept filling
with tears without her knowing it. But she might have
cried her poor little heart out, and nothing would have taken
any notice of her. For you see, there were only the water-
rats and the frogs and the grasshoppers to mind her, and
they had their own affairs to look after, and were too busy
to notice anything.
Presently Lottchen's quick ear caught the sound of some-
thing which was not the water-rat, nor the frogs, nor the
grasshoppers. It was a soft footstep upon the grass. Lott-
chen started, wondering whoever it could be. Perhaps it







IO Rottrbjci'si fltst.

was her Father. She looked up, all expectant, and soon saw
that it was not the wood-cutter. It was a tiny, little creature,
not much taller than Lottchen herself, though much broader.
Had Lottchen believed in fairies, she would have thought
that the strange little woman had come from fairyland. But
Lottchen knew nothing of such things, and had never heard
a fairy tale in all her life. The funny little woman came
nearer, not seeing Lottchen, who lay very quiet in the rushes,
half afraid to move. As she came nearer, the moonlight
shone upon her face-it was a square, but not an ugly face,
with such kind, good-natured eyes, that the child lost all
fear of the dwarf. She was digging up roots with an old
rusty knife, and Lottchen began to wonder what she was
going to do with them. Just as she came to where Lottchen
was, the child jumped up, and the little woman gave a start,
and, dropping her basket, took to her heels, running as fast
as ever she could. Lottchen was afraid she would get out
of sight before she could stop her.
Please-please stop," cried Lottchen. But the dwarf
only screamed and ran all the faster.
Just then, a rough shaggy dog sprang out from the under-
wood. Seeing Lottchen in such distress, the dog bounded
up to her, and looking up into her face with his kindly brown
eyes, licked her hands.
The little woman happened to stop just then to take breath,
and looks back. She saw at once that her dog had made
friends with the thing, whatever it was, that had frightened






KLottc)etn'i OcePt. i1

her so much. This seemed to take her fears away, and she
went back to Lottchen, but very slowly.
Oh please," said Lottchen, "won't you give me some
supper, and send me back to Father ? "
Lottchen had felt afraid of the old woman who had given
her her supper in the log hut on the evening after the storm,
because she looked so cross, and spoke so roughly, but she
was not a bit afraid of the dwarf.
Little one," said the tiny woman, "I took you for a
fairy, but Mauschen there would have been as much afraid
as I, had you been one, so I knew you were not."
Lottchen dried her eyes. The little woman took her by
the hand and led her up a hill, chatting and laughing so
cheerily all the time, that the child began to feel comforted.
After going up a long way they came to where the trees grew
very thickly.
"That's where I live," said the little woman; and Lottchen
saw the dearest, tiniest little hut, built of wood, peeping out
from the shadow of the trees. It was covered with moss
and ivy, and there were pretty windows, and a high chimney-
pot, and a thatched roof with projecting eaves, and altogether
it was just the sort of place you would like to live in.
"I keep fowls here," said the little woman, pointing to
an enclosure, and I have a spring of the purest water. I
bake my own bread and cakes, and keep the very nicest
silk-worms that ever spun silk."
Then they went in; and Lottchen was delighted to find






12 Kaottcti~n'e Po~t.

herself in a tiny snug room with a bright fire. Everything
was pretty, dainty and small, and spotlessly clean. As for
the pots and pans, they shone so brightly that it made your
eyes ache to look at them.
Lottchen made a capital supper, and the dwarf told her
lovely fairy tales while she ate her bread and milk.
You must come and live with me," said the little woman.
" I will teach you how to keep silk-worms. I have a brother
who is a great man. He lives in a village, and has a
farm, and many many mulberry trees. He lets me fill my
little cart with leaves for the worms. You can feed the
chickens and pick up sticks, and we will play together on
the hills."
"But I would rather go back to my Father," sobbed
Lottchen.
Then she crept into the little woman's arms, and nestled
in her bosom. She told her of her disobedience, and how
she had lost herself, and how unhappy she was.
The little woman kissed and comforted her.
It is always so, little one," she said. "When we are
naughty we are unhappy, it is only when we do right that
we are gay; but cheer up-we will find Father and ask him
to forgive us."
So next morning, at sunrise, Lottchen was put in a
little wooden cart, to which the shaggy dog was harnessed,
and they started off, a merry party, taking their dinner
with them.







Rottrbrilji'f Rot. 13

It was not until evening that they found their way to
Lottchen's nest. I need not say how glad the poor
wood-cutter was to see his little bird again, so glad, that
he forgot to scold her-for, you see, he had come to the
conclusion that the child had tumbled into the water, and
was drowned.

*













Our friecnt Vatd.

B Y MRS. MASSE Y



ACK'S real name was Roland, but he thought that
sounded too fine, and didn't like being called Roly
Poly, as, of course, he was; so he asked us always
to say Jack instead. He was our friend, the only one we had
then, for Tom and I were not allowed to play with other
children, and perhaps should never have known much of Jack
had it not been for something which happened on an Autumn
day, long ago. I know it was Autumn, because the mulberries
were ripe, and lay about the grass-some rather pink, some
purple, and it must have been a half-holiday, for Tom and I
were spending the afternoon together in the garden.
Now in our garden there grew an apple tree; it was so
very old that no apples were ever seen on it, and the
gardener wanted to dig it up, and put a young tree in its
place. Tom and I begged hard that it might not be touched,
and Mother said that as we were so fond of it, it might
stand until we went to school; so we called it our tree,
and often made believe to live in it. For there never was






Our Jfrinltb 3ach. 15

a tree which had better perches, they were almost like
chairs; one was about four feet from the ground, where the
trunk forked, and the other a yard higher amongst the boughs.
From the higher one you could have quite an extensive
view over the kitchen garden as far as the scarlet runners,
or down the laurel walk, while close in front was the wide
green gate which led on to the high road. Tom generally
sat in that perch, for he said it was not the place for a little
girl; but sometimes, when he was very kind, he would help
me up beside him, and once we actually blew soap-bubbles
there, which floated away over the tree, or broke against
the shining laurel leaves on either side the path.
Tom always did his most difficult sums up in the tree,
he said it helped him ; they were really very hard, for Tom
was in compound multiplication, and I used to hear him
going over his tables in a loud whisper, and scratching
dreadfully with his slate pencil, while I nursed my doll,
Sophia, in the lower seat. But we didn't do lessons on
half-holidays, and on this day Tom said to me, "Now,
Emmie, I and you and Sophia-and mind she's a little
girl, and not a doll-are cast away on a desert island.
I shall climb up the tree as high as I can, and wave a white
flag, so that if any ships pass they may see it, and then they
will come and take us off."
I said, Oh! yes," and then Tom asked for my handker-
chief to make a flag.
It is a miserable little thing," he said, as I pulled it out.







16 Our fricnt 3lach.

" I am afraid the ships will never see it; mine would have
done much better, only yesterday, when I was playing
being lost in the snow, I tied it round Rover's neck, and
the stupid dog, instead of going to Mother with it as I
told him, scratched it to pieces with his paws."
Tom tied the flag almost at the top of the tree, where it
did look very small, and then we watched. All the wagons
with white tilts that went by on the road we called ships,
and Tom hailed them quite loud, making a speaking trumpet
of both his hands, like a real sailor; but the captains, I
mean the men who drove, either seemed as if they didn't
hear, or just laughed and nodded to us as they went by,
which was worse, because, as Tom said, it seemed so cruel,
when they must have known we were starving.
"There's only one little crust left," announced Tom
presently. I'll give you a bit of it-it is rather dry, and
not quite clean, for it has been in my pocket since the day
before yesterday; but shipwrecked people don't mind that,
only I think they are not generally left so long without a
ship coming, it is all because your handkerchief is such a
silly little thing; I'll tie Sophia up there instead, that will
make them look."
"Oh! Tom, don't," I cried; "you said she really was
a little girl."
Tom was scrambling down the tree, and I was looking
up at him, when all at once a boy's voice cried, "Hallo, what
are you up to there ?"






Our Jrincib $ach. 17

Was the ship really come? We looked, and there at the
gate, which he had pushed half open, stood a boy whom we
did not know, a boy not quite so tall as Tom. He had a
round merry face under his crimson Tam-o-Shanter; his head
was square, and he had large ears, and a rather wide mouth;
he carried a tall bow in his hand, and I settled that he must
be one of the savages belonging to the island.
Hallo! he cried again, as we didn't speak.
Hallo answered Tom, and though he was in the tree
he tried to put his hands in his pockets.
We couldn't any of us think what more to say, and I
wished the strange boy would go away; but he stood there
looking at us, with his face almost through the bars.
My name is Willett," he remarked presently.
Our name is Walsh; Captain Walsh is my Father,"
answered Tom, coming down from his perch, and dropping
to the ground from one of the quite high boughs.
"We are come to live at the Haigh, and I'll lend you my
bow and arrows if you like shooting," said the boy at the gate.
Tom moved a little nearer, and I cried out, Oh! Tom,
you know we mustn't; Mother says we are never to play
with strange boys."
Stuff," cried Tom ; Father means to call at the Haigh,
I heard him say so; it's all right, come you along," and
Tom actually took hold of that boy's arm, and almost pulled
him up the laurel walk towards the house. Of course I
came too, I could not think whatever Tom could be going
B






18 ur 3rieni gatrh.

to do, and when he went right in front of the study window,
which was open, I wondered more than ever. Father was
in the room writing; his head was down over his paper,
and his pen went scratching away as if he was in a great
hurry, and I believe he was, because I could hear the pony
carriage coming round, and I think Father wanted to finish
his letters before he drove Mother out.
Tom pulled the strange boy up to the window, and tapped.
Father," he cried, look here, may we play with him ? "
I can't imagine what Mother would have said, but Father
was so busy that he never looked up; all he did was to answer,
while his pen still went as fast as ever, Certainly, if you
don't make a noise near the house."
I told you so," said Tom, in a loud triumphant whisper;
" give me the bow, we'll go to the field, there's a jolly old
stump there will make a famous target; I'll put lots of
arrows in it."
"And I, too," I cried.
"You can come and look at us if you like," said Tom;
" but girls can't shoot."
They can, then; there were the Amazons in my history
only last week, come now," I answered, feeling much injured.
Oh! let her come," broke in our new friend-Jack, he
said we were to call him-" it will be more fun; here, you
shall carry the arrows."
I looked at them with wonder, they seemed 'like real
arrows, with delightful sharp dangerous points, just such






Our friend Iackh. 19

as an Amazon might have used. "Oh! yes," said Jack,
they are not pretence arrows; you'll have to take care they
don't hit you. Father sent them to me from India; they'd
go right through a wall, I do believe."
Tom was in high spirits; he had actually hit the old
stump three times, once quite in the middle-the white, as
Jack called it. I shall save up my money, and buy a bow,"
Tom declared, feeling the string quite knowingly to see if
it were frayed. "I get a good deal of money-sixpence
every Saturday, and Uncle often tips me as well."
"Oh, Torn, fines!" I exclaimed.
"Bother the fines," answered Tom; "I don't need to
have any;" but Jack said, I'll tell you what, I'll lend you
my bow and arrows, I can't give it you because it was father's
present, but you can use it as much as you like, and I'll
bring down my target, and then we'll play William Tell,
you know."
We'll play it now," cried Tom; Hurrah! I'm William
Tell."
We shall want an apple," remarked Jack.
"All right, here you, Emmie, run to cook, and ask her to
give us an apple-a big one mind, and rosy," Tom called
after me, as I was already half way across the field. When
S I came back, breathless, with the apple held tight in my two
hands, the boys were talking rather loudly.
If we put the apple on the old stump it will do capitally
for Walter," Jack was saying.







20 Oinu jfricnb iarft.

It won't be half the fun," growled Tom.
"I don't think it's safe to shoot at each other, we might
miss, you know," persisted Jack.
Oh, we shan't miss; we'll take in turns to be Walter.
I ain't one bit afraid, and Emmie isn't," and Jack put the
apple on my head to see how it looked.
I'll have nothing to do with shooting at a little girl,"
declared Jack ; soldiers never shoot at women."
I know," cried Tom suddenly, "we'll put the doll on
the stump, and tie the apple on her head."
I was too miserable to speak, for Tom had already snatched
dear Sophia out of my arms, and seated her, looking very
limp and despondent, on the stump. The apple wouldn't
stay on her head, but rolled off several times, once into the
long grass where it took some time to find it. I looked for
it too, for I didn't want Tom to see that I was crying; but
I thought all the while I would almost rather have been
Waltei myself, for poor Sophia couldn't run away and save
herself when she saw the arrows coming, as I am sure I
should have done.
I think Jack must have seen that I was in trouble; for
after the apple had rolled off the fifth time, he said quite
loud, It's no use trying any more, it won't stick on; look
here, Tom, I'll hold the-apple out in my hand, and you shall
have a.try at it."
The first time Tom shot Jack's boot. It didn't hurt him
one bit, he declared, and his Aunt wouldn't mind. Then







Our Jrient _ach. 21

Tom tried to aim higher, drawing the bow up to his ear
just as if he were a real archer, and this time the arrow did
go higher, yards over Jack's head, and into the old ash tree
by the hedge, where it hung and wouldn't come down.
Plague," said Tom, getting quite red; I'm sure there
is something wrong with the arrows; I shoot them straight
enough; this one shall hit."
Then I heard the bow twang, and the arrow whizz, and
in a moment Jack gave a cry, and the apple dropped to the
ground.
"I've shot it, I've shot it; hurrah, I'm William Tell!"
shouted Tom, giving a jump straight into the air. He didn't
see Jack's face, but I did, and ran up to him; he looked
white, and had shut his lips together very tight; but he
didn't cry out again, though the arrow had really gone into
his hand just below the little finger, it hung there, and we
couldn't pull it out.
Poor Tom, when he saw what he had done he looked
worse than Jack, and we didn't any of us know how to stop
the bleeding. Jack had pulled his handkerchief out with
his other hand, but it wasn't much use, for it was tied up
in so many hard knots that it was almost like a ball. Jack
told us afterwards he had to do it to help him to remember
things, but that the hardest of all was to think what he had
put the knots in for. So as we couldn't use the handkerchief,
I pulled Sophia's pinafore off, breaking the strings because
they wouldn't untie; but when I was going to put it round







22 Our jFritiint ack.

Jack's hand, he said so bravely, "The first thing of all is
to get the arrow out, you were afraid to pull hard enough;"
and then he tried himself, but it wouldn't come, and it hurt
him so that I wonder how he kept from crying.
Then Tom pulled, though he didn't like it, but something
must be done. If they really are Indian arrows they are
poisoned, my book says so," he told us, wishing to keep up
our spirits; but all his pulling was no use, the arrow would
not come out, and Jack sat down on the stump to think.
It doesn't really hurt much," he said, for he saw that
Tom looked very frightened and unhappy, "and you know
it was my own doing; I told you to shoot, only we must
get the arrow out." Then he thought again.
I'll tell you what," he said presently, "isn't there a
doctor anywhere near ? "
"Only a mile off," cried Tom; "come along, I'll show
you, and he'll have it out before you know it."
Jack's red cap was hanging on a bough for a cap of liberty,
but we none of us thought about it, aswe ran as fast aswe could
down the road. Jack only spoke once all the way, and then
he said, I told you they were real good arrows, didn't I ? "
Mr. West's horse was at his door, but we were just in
time, and we all went into the doctor's room, where there
was a great chair which made me think of having teeth out,
and a bookcase with wire netting in front, and a row of
plaster heads on the top. It was bad enough even to stand
at the door, as I did, but poor Jack had to sit down in the






Our Jrient 3ach. 23

great chair while Mr. West looked at his hand, and shook
his head over it almost as if he was angry with Jack.
Don't spoil the arrow, please, Sir," entreated Jack; "I
don't mind a little pain."
I am sure he had much more then a little to bear before
it was really got out, and the wound cleansed, and bathed,
and bound up; but as soon as it was done Jack drew a long
breath, and declared that he felt as jolly as ever.
You are a famous fellow," said the doctor; but take
care how you make a target of yourself again."
It wasn't me," answered Jack, "it was the apple, I only
held it."
"Would you like any more of those targets, eh ?" and
Mr. West took three large ripe apples from a dish, and gave
them to Jack. Because you are a brave boy," he said,
with a pat on the shoulder, which I am not quite sure that
Jack liked.
But he couldn't help liking the apples, and as soon as we
were outside the gate Jack handed one to Tom, and one to
me. He kept the biggest and rosiest, but that was quite
fair, because all three were really his. However, it was so
large that when Jack tried to force it into his pocket it
wouldn't go, and I heard the cloth tear.
"You had better eat it," Tom tried to say, but he couldn't
speak very well for his teeth were already through the rosy
side of his apple.
Oh, I'm saving up, you know," answered Jack; "there's







24 utr frimntb 5ack.

a bit of a fellow not half my size at our lodge, his back was
hurt, and he can't walk, poor little beggar; I shall take him
the apple, it is such a jolly big one."
I felt quite ashamed to think that I had just been going
to eat mine; I thought I would save up too, but as my pocket
was very small, and quite full, I had to keep the apple in
the crown of my sun bonnet, where it felt hard, and got
unpleasantly warm, and after all I had no little boy to take
it to, for there was no lodge to our house; so I could only
settle that I would give it to Nurse.
Just as I had quite made up my mind about this I heard
Tom saying in a whisper to Jack, "I say, look here,
shall you have to tell your Aunt-it is your Aunt at home,
isn't it ? "
"Tell! what, about my hand! answered Jack aloud, and
in rather a surprised voice; "of course, why Aunt will have
to pay the doctor, and besides I always tell; Father says it
is only cowards that don't."
Does he ?" I fancied Tom grew rather red, he was very
quiet for a little while, perhaps he was thinking, for presently
he said, I'll come with you, Jack, I did it."
" Thank you, I wish you would; Aunt won't scold much,
but she' may say I mustn't shoot with father's bow again,"
and the tears for the first time -came into Jack's eyes.
"Shall we have to knock?" whispered Tom, in rather an
appalled tone, for now we were quite near the Haigh, and
it was dreadful to have to go in.






Our frimnb lart. 25

But Jack took us round to the end of the house, where a
side door opened into a little matted hall. Jack's bat and
his balls were kept there, and on a table stood a stuffed
hawk with green glassy eyes, that he said was his very own.
Tom wanted to feel the bat, and stroke the hawk; I saw he
was getting very much afraid of having to face Jack's Aunt,
and so was I, but I said, Oh, do let us go in directly,
please," for I wanted more than anything to have it over.
The little hall led into a larger one, I knew it was full of
things, but I couldn't look at them, only at Tom who was
following Jack towards a door at the other end.
Jack opened that door.
There, sitting in a low easy chair, was a quite old lady
with white hair, she had a soft mouse-coloured dress, her
hands were very white, and she looked so nice that I couldn't
help remembering my holland pinafore, and Tom's collar,
which were neither of them as clean as I could have wished.
We all three stood at the door, and the old lady looked
at us so surprised that I wished Tom would begin, but he
only cleared his throat, and mumbled something, and it was
Jack who said, I've brought Tom and Emmie to see you,
Aunt; we've been shooting with my bow in Captain Walsh's
field; he said we might."
I shot Jack," Tom jerked out; the arrow is out now,
but I came to tell you."
There was a little sound in the room ; Jack's Aunt looked
up, but not at us ; I turned half round, and there-though







26 ur fritib 3ach.

I hardly knew how to believe it-on a sofa sat Mother,
actually come to call, and patting a curly white dog which
had its fore paws on Father's knee.
When I saw Mother I never thought about how shocked
she would be or anything, but I just ran across the room
to her, and put my head on her arm for a comfortable cry.
Mother was the very kindest. She was so particular gen-
erally that I know it must have made her very uncomfortable
to see my dusty boots, and my hair flying all over the
edge of my sun bonnet, which was the more out of shape
because of the apple in the crown ; but she never said one
word, only put her arm round me, and listened to what
Father was saying. For he was asking Tom questions,
speaking short and stern, as if, Tom said afterwards, it
was a court-martial; but Tom didn't seem afraid now, he
stood up, and just told everything as it happened.
It was only a scratch, Sir," said Jack, breaking in; I
don't mind, it doesn't hurt now; we'll have another try
to-morrow if we may."
It must be with blunt arrows then," said Jack's Aunt,
gently.
"I can't think how the children met," said Mother
presently.
We were shipwrecked in the apple tree, Mother," I
remarked, "and Jack came, and was a ship to rescue us."
And, Father, you said we might play with him; you know
I came and asked you through the window," broke in Tom.







Our frirnmi ack. 27

I daresay you did," and Father smiled, though I don't
think I heard what you said, but"-and then Father looked
at Miss Willett-" for my part I can only be glad of.the
chance which has brought the children to know each other;
your nephew will always be welcome if, after this accident,
-you are not afraid to let him play with my two scapegraces."
Oh, thank you, Father," I cried, for I really couldn't
help speaking, and Tom added, "And we'll promise faithfully
never any of us to be Walter Tell any more."
Run home now across the fields, children," said Mother,
"and I hope next time Miss Willett sees you, you won't
look quite so much like young savages."
And this was how we first came to know our dear friend
Jack.













^N Conurtteyr carrot,

BY FRANCES E. CHARLTON.



NCE upon a time a Parrot lived in a small country
town, through which a wide river ran, and the
Parrot's home was at a shop near the water.
Perhaps you have been to the Zoo, and seen the Macaws
with their gay plumage of red and blue, green and yel-
low, and the cockatoos from far off Australia in their
beautiful dress of white, with sulphur-coloured or rose-
red crests.
The Parrot I am going to tell you about was not so hand-
some as his cousins; but his mistress' little granddaughter,
Jessie, thought his soft grey feathers very pretty, and then
he could talk so much better than the other birds; some of
them could say a few words, but generally they only screamed
very loudly and harshly, and although they seemed to like
making the noise, no one but a cockatoo could tell what
it meant.
Now our Parrot could not only say Pretty Poll," How
d' ye do?" "What's o'clock?" and such easy words as






Cfe (frCoacitrb Parrot. 29

those, but when any customers came to the shop, he would
call out Mother, Mother, make haste, you're wanted!" If
no one came, he would scream Murder! Fire! Thieves!"
until his mistress came, and then he would say Dear me,
where have you been ?" If he liked the look of a lady who
came in, he would give a funny little click with his tongue,
as parrots do, and say, "Ah, you are a pretty dear! Don't
you think he was a very clever bird ? He thought so, and
so did everyone, and in fact he was so much admired and
petted, that he began to think himself the most important
creature in the house, and to grow very conceited and selfish.
Even when Jessie brought him a bone, instead of being
grateful for her kindness, he thought to himself, Stupid
little thing, she never puts enough cayenne; I believe I
shall have to give her a peck one of these days to let her
know what I think of her." And he really did put his beak
out sometimes, and try to take hold of Jessie's finger, but
she did not believe he meant to hurt her, and besides he
could not put his beak far out of the cage.
Now this cage was very splendid, just like silver and gold,
and Poll was very proud of it. When he looked out of the
open door on a fine Spring morning, and watched the
swallows darting about in the sunshine, or listened to the
busy little sparrows twittering to each other about the nests
they were building, he thought, How much better off I am
in this beautiful house, with dishes to hold my food, and
people to wait on me, than those poor little birds are with






30 i~e Caoncritll Parrot.

their little brown nests which they work so hard to build,
and when that is done they have to fly about the world to
find every worm and insect they want for themselves and
their young ones." But instead of feeling thankful for his
good fortune, he thought it was because he was so much
better than other birds, and it took a hard lesson to teach
him to be more humble.
One Autumn was very cold and wet; day after day the
wind blew, and the rain poured down; little Jessie was
obliged to stay indoors, and people began to shake their
heads, and say, I'm afraid we shall have a flood." Sure
enough one very stormy day the river began to overflow, and
to find its way into the cellars and kitchens. Everyone
hastened to move everything valuable from the rooms near
the ground to those at the top of the house. In the bustle
and confusion the Parrot was forgotten, and soon the water
burst open the door, and came rushing into the shop, carrying
away the chairs and stools, and making Polly's table rock
about in a very strange and uncomfortable fashion. Presently
it was lifted off the ground, and after bumping about for
awhile, it floated out through the open door down the cold,
dark stream. The poor bird was so terribly frightened that
he forgot all his speeches except one, and what do you think
that was ? D' you think I'm a goose ?"
Of course no one had time to think whether he was a
goose or not. If he had only been free, he could have spread
his wings and flown home : but, alas, his splendid house held






fEte Conctitrtl Warrot. 31

him a prisoner, and the only thing he could do was to cling
with all his might to the very top of the cage as he saw the
water coming closer and closer to him. Ah, how he envied
the little birds flying about in safety, greatly excited, of
course, at these unusual events, but quite happy in their
minds about their homes and families, because they knew
them to be far above the water's reach. They soon saw
the terrified Parrot, and flew round him, making such a
noise, and twittering so much more shrilly than usual, that
they attracted the notice of some men who were rowing
about to pick up some of the lost articles from the
houses, and also to take food to some of the people,
who were obliged to stay in their highest rooms. The
men pulled quickly towards poor Poll, and reached him
just as his cage was being sucked down by the fast-
flowing river.
"Why," said one of the men, "it's Mistress Brown's
Parrot! She will be in a fine way about it."
And so she was: and so was Jessie, who was crying for
the loss of her pet, for they had soon missed him, and had
searched for him in vain. You can imagine how delighted
they were to see him when the boatman took him home,
and how they petted him It was a long time before he
was quite himself again, but everyone remarked how much
better-tempered he had grown. He never pecked at Jessie
again; and, in the Spring, when the swallows came to
the North once more, Polly seemed so pleased to watch






32 bI~e Concritrt Parrot.

them, that Jessie thought they must have told Poll's
friends in the sunny South about his narrow escape, and
that they must have asked the pretty birds to tell Poll
that his brothers and sisters were very glad he was
not drowned in the flood.













Rttfie 33o 13u.

BY FRANCIS CLARE.



HE three tall spires, like three stone fingers, point
to Heaven as a poor little lad in a shabby blue
suit enters Cornbury, and makes his way into the
Cross." Little Boy Blue, for so his Mother called him in
the days when he had plenty of love, plenty of food, and
plenty of toys, is an orphan, and seeks a place as errand boy.
But, alas! no one seems to want an errand boy. The
butcher jeeringly says he hardly looks strong enough to carry
a steak; the baker thinks him too weakly to mind the oven;
and the draper is sure he would not suit. So it begins to
dawn upon Charlie that nobody wants him-that he is just
one too many even in this quaint old city, where the watch-
makers' hammers and files keep up a cheerful noise all day
long, and the children play in the green and shady places.
"Never mind, I'll try the factories," he says. So his tired feet
patter up one long flight of steps after another, only to patter
down again, with a place as yet unfound.
If but one of those long flights of factory stairs could be
C







34 RLittic 3oi? 331ur.

changed into an angel's ladder, reaching from earth to
Heaven, how quickly he would climb it! how soon his little
feet would gain the other side! But he cannot; he is an
earthly Little Boy Blue, as he feels when he sees the hams in
the cook-shop windows and the fruit on the fruiterers' stalls.
It must be beautiful to be that little boy; he will never
be hungry, or know any pain," says Little Boy Blue, as he
watches a father buy his son a basket of strawberries, and
then sees them drive away in an open carriage, leaving him
standing looking after them-a forlorn and dusty little figure,
with only twopence in his pocket.
He knows full well, poor homeless Charlie, that the rich
boy and himself are both travelling day by day, hour by hour,
to a land where hunger and thirst are unknown; but he does
not know that the boy in velvet will reach it first; he does
not know how the rich man's heart aches when he hears his
only child say, How nice it must be, Papa, just to walk
once up and down the street like that little boy in the blue
jacket, if only for once, you know, just to feel that you can
stand on your legs." No; Little Boy Blue does not know
all this; for only God sees both sides of life at once ; so he
limps down the street-for a stone has cut his foot-like a
wounded bird, and wonders where he shall lay his curly head
to-night-poor curly head, whose hardest pillow was once his
Mother's breast-poor heavy head which aches so sadly now.
Up and down the street pass and repass many men in
long white linen aprons, and when Charlie asks who they










are, and what they wear those aprons for, they tell him that
they are watchmakers, and wear the aprons to catch the
many little articles, such as jewels, springs, and chains, which
go to make up a watch.
"I should like to learn watchmaking," says Charlie,
eagerly; his listener tells him that perhaps he may some
day; "for the ripest peach does not always hang on the
nearest wall;" and then he goes on his way, leaving the
lad with a new hope planted in his breast.
On, still on, walks Little Boy Blue, not knowing or caring
where he goes. Soon he leaves the busy town behind, and
finds himself in a large suburb, and in the very midst of this
district is a large piece of water, called The Swans' Pool,"
because two of those graceful birds sail up and down on the
clear water.
Fair as the meadows of Paradise looks the soft green grass
to the little wanderer, and the pool looks lovelier still: for
the very sight of it is like looking upon an old friend, when
he remembers the clear and shining river on which his Father
used to take him for a row in the days when his curly
locks were smoothed by a Mother's hand and his Father
bought him toys. Yes; he must have one sail in that pretty
green boat just to remind him of the days of old; so he pays
his penny, rows to the small islet in the middle of the water,
is rowed back again, steps out on the grass once more,
and is nearer being a beggar by one penny than he was
five minutes before.







36 Littlc 3og liite.

After this, Little Boy Blue does a far from prudent thing;
but all the same, one on which the angels may look down
and smile. He meets a poor and desolate woman; one who,
though no poorer than himself, is worse off by far, because
she has left youth behind her; a woman whose smile is
sadder far than tears, and in her hand he places his last
copper; then goes on his way penniless.
Never mind," says Charlie, it would burn a hole in my
pocket if I'd kept it;" so he sits down on a bench near the
pool, and wonders where he shall go.
By and bye, a gentleman reading a book goes by; and as
Little Boy Blue looks after him, he sees a small tin box fall
unnoticed from his pocket, and on picking it up, and raising
the lid, finds a lady's gold watch, whose case, engraven with
lilies and roses, is set with precious stones. Why does the
trinket seem to burn in its little holder's hand ? why does
his face blush crimson ? Because the Tempter whispers in
his ear: Take it to some other town, and sell it; then you
can buy all you want. No one will help you ; help yourself."
Then he thinks that he hears his dead Father say, Poor,
but never a thief;" and, hurrying after the stranger, he puts
the watch into his hand, and tells how he has found it on
the grass.
"Thank you, my boy," says the gentleman; "Are you
staying in Cornbury?"
I am looking for a place as errand lad," replies Little
Boy Blue, and he tells him his simple tale.






kLittIt 303o 331Inc. 37

The stranger says gently, when he has heard it, We have
no children, and my wife will care for you-come."
So he takes the tired child by the hand, and leads him up
to a gabled house, in a shady garden, and from thence into a
pleasant sitting-room, where a lady in a dove-coloured gown,
whose eyes are at once quick and bright, is sitting.
She listens to her husband's story in silence, then comes
forward, and takes Charlie's warm brown hand in hers. "You
shall stay with us, and learn to make the watches go tick,
tick, tick; we are childless, be our son; stay with us, will
you ?" Will he, will the starving robin pick up the crumbs
a friendly hand throws to him ? Will the lamb the thorns
have hurt refuse to enter the fold? When they do this,
Little Boy Blue will say nay to all and more than he has
prayed for. He cannot speak, for a lump rises in his throat,
and chokes him for a moment; then he lifts her hand to his
lips, and murmurs, "Mother"-only that one word "Mother"
-but his listener guesses all he yearns to say; for she says,
" Not so, dear child, not so, rest here ;" and draws his aching
head down, down until it lies upon her shoulder, and in
those soft encircling arms he finds at last a home.












Oc (9bA6 in tfe Obg 3attO

BY L. C. SKE Y.


NE Summer evening two owls sat at the door of
Their house, winking and blinking in the light of
the setting sun and looking about as sleepy and
stupid as anyone could. Not that it mattered much how they
looked, for no one could see them. Their house was in the
hollow trunk of an old tree which was completely overgrown
with ivy, and the trailing branches and thick green leaves
made quite a bower for the owls, and prevented people from
seeing clearly what was within. As I told you, the owls sat
quite still, half asleep and looking very stupid, but they were
not as stupid as they looked. They very quickly spied out
any little birds that came too near them, and would probably
have made a supper off them if they had not flown frightened
away directly they peeped between the ivy leaves with their
sharp little eyes, and saw the two big solemn birds who sat
behind them.
The owls were waiting patiently, as owls always do, for
the daylight to die out, so that they might start off on their






lI)e Olu int tlj) Elbp t3uj. 39

wanderings, and hunt up some mice for their evening meal.
I think they must have been called the birds of wisdom,
because they are so quiet and patient. It takes a great deal
of wisdom to make people patient.
It was getting dusk, and the owls began to wake up a little,
when they were startled into silence by a sound underneath
the tree. A little boy, about ten years old, came slowly past
their hiding place, shuffling along, and rustling the dry leaves
as he went. He was not at all a nice-looking boy; he had a
miserable pale wizen face, and a sort of hang-dog look; he
shuffled along with his hands in his pockets, and looking down
at his feet as he walked. His feet were bare, and covered
with dust and mud, and his clothes were nothing but rags.
He did not whistle or sing as he went along, in the way
most boys do, but he walked backwards and forwards, still
looking on the ground, evidently waiting for someone he
did not particularly care to meet. He had not to wait very
long-soon there came out from under the shade of the
neighboring trees a short stout man, very broad and strong,
with the most evil-looking face you can imagine. He had an
old cap stuck on one side of his face, one eye was covered
over with a black patch, and in his hand he carried a short,
thick stick.
As soon as he came up to the boy he seized him roughly
by the shoulders. Now look here, young 'un," he said, in a
low, hoarse voice, you know I expect to get a good haul
to-night, and if you don't mind what you're about, I'll






40 Ei)tr 9ule in ttrc fb) 3uttb.

kill you, see if I don't. You wait for me till it's dark, then
when you see my lantern round by the back door, you come
to me, and I'll put you through the pantry window. Then
you unlock the back door and let me in, and if you make a
sound of noise it'll be worse for you, I can tell you."
As he finished speaking there was a flutter overhead, and
the two owls, quite disturbed and annoyed, flew out with all
the bustle and fuss theycould make, almost touching the man's
head as they went. You should have seen how frightened he
was, his teeth chattered, and the stick fell out of his hands.
The boy saw it and laughed at him, "What! are ye
afeared of a howl ? he asked with a sneer.
The man gave him a cuff with his hand and muttered some
very bad and angry words under his breath, and then he slunk
away, as he had come, into the deeper shade of the wood
close by, only stopping to say to the boy I'll be there as the
Church clock strikes twelve."
When he was gone the boy threw himself on the ground
under the tree. I don't like this 'ere business," he mut-
tered; 'tain't what I've ever done afore, though I've been
bad enough, and here's two hours to think about it, too; I
shall get in a mortal fear afore the time comes, I know; Jim
'ud 'arf kill me, I know he would, or else I'd run right away.
Bless them owls," he added, after a minute or two, "how
they do keep a flying round and a screeching, to be sure."
The owls had heard it all, and the wise birds were shocked
and grieved at such wickedness. They could not rest, they






M)e 1.uI6 inl tljt *bu 3uf). 41

flew about round and round, and cried in the evening air.
But what more could they do ?
Presently the boy got up slowly, and slouched along close
up to the house in whose garden the ivy bush grew. The
owls followed him, and screeched louder than ever their
strange weird cry. It did not seem to be in vain, for a
window was thrown open, and an old lady put her head out,
and looked carefully all round, for there was just light enough
from the moon to see the outline of the trees and bushes
in the garden.
The boy heard the window open, and he heard the lady
say, What can be the matter with the owls to-night ? It
makes me quite nervous to hear them screeching; so close to
the house, too."
The boy heard, and his heart almost stopped with terror
and dismay. The voice was the voice of the only friend he
had ever had-a lady who had been so good to him once
when he was a very little boy, and was lying in a hospital
bed with a broken leg, before he had begun to lead such a bad
life. The sound of her voice reminded him of all that had
happened then, of all the nice things she had given him to
eat, of all the kind words she had spoken, of the prayer she
had said at his bedside. The boy shuddered when he thought
of that prayer, Lead us not into temptation." He remem-
bered the words now, though he had never thought of them
all those years. They came back to him now, and at this
moment, the Church clock struck eleven.






42 l)c itol in tl)e b3u ~u1).

"That sounds awful like a bell atoiling," the boy thought,
with a shiver of fear.
The window was shut, and all was still and silent except
the owls, who still flew about the house and cried.
The boy could hear his heart beating, he was shaking
with terror. Lead us," he said, looking up for a moment
into the misty sky, there, I aren't say it," he muttered,
throwing himself down again on the grass, "I'll try and sleep
a bit till he comes." But he could not sleep, and he could
not lie still.
At last he jumped up : 'Tain't of no use," he said out
loud, she was that good to me, I ain't going to do her
no harm, he can't do more than kill me, but I must be
quick."
The owls were still making all the noise they could, and a
dim light was to be seen moving about in the house.
The boy stole on tiptoe to the back door, and gently pulled
the bell. He waited, but nothing happened. She doesn't
hear it, and the man's asleep," he muttered, as he pulled the
bell again, a little harder than before. Soon a distant sound
of footsteps was heard, and the door was opened by an old
man with a lantern in his hand, and only partly dressed.
By this time the boy was almost too frightened to speak.
" Oh, Sir," he gasped, do take me in, he'll kill me."
Kill you the old man repeated, what for ? "
Shut the door, Sir, and I'll tell you," gasped the boy.
The old man looked surly, and was much minded to push






l)et Mtlua in tfjt *b 33tusb. 43

him out, and lock the door, but something in the child's face
stopped him.
Come in," he said crossly, but you don't go no further
than the doorstep, I'd rather such fellows were outside
than in."
Once safely inside, he told the astonished servant who he
was, and why he had come, and before Jim came in sight of
the house it was all lit up, and men and maids were ready to
protect their mistress from robbery and harm, so he made
off in the dark.
The owls flew home into the silence and darkness of their
ivy-covered house, and ate their supper with wise and
contented hearts.

*

The boy never wandered about any more without shoes,
the lady was his friend once more; she took care of him,
and taught him, and brought him up to be a steady, hard-
working man, for she said he had saved her life. As for him,
he often thought of that terrible night, and of the prayer he
hadn't dared to say because he had just been going to do
such a very wicked thing, and when he thought it all over
he often used to say to himself, "Ah, who knows what
might 'ave happenedd if it hadn't been for those owls "













zn Xttle Ue0 Bia ill.S

BY MISS C. R. COLERIDGE,
AUTHOR OF BLANCHE'SS SAYING," ETC.



LONG time ago, many years before you were born,
two little girls, called Hetty and Milly, lived in a
big house on the outskirts of London. They were
not sisters; but Milly spent a great part of her time at Hetty's
home, and they learnt all their lessons together, and had the
same games and amusements. Like other little girls, they
sometimes quarrelled, and I am going to tell you the history
of a quarrel they once had, and how it was made up again.
I think they were both to blame for the quarrels ; for if Hetty
was very ready to be cross, Milly was very fond of teazing
her. But they never could get on without each other; and
if they quarrelled in the morning before school-time; at twelve
o'clock, when they ran out to play in the big sunny garden,
they were obliged to make it up again. So this quarrel,
which lasted at least a day and a half, was, fortunately, quite
remarkable.
Milly and Hetty had a great fancy for playing at ball, and







9bte Sittr Uctf Sail. 45

not only for throwing their balls about and bouncing them
against the wall. They played with them as if they had been
dolls, gave them names, and tried which could have the most
and the prettiest. Now bouncing balls at that time were of
two kinds; either they were dark red with a very hard lump
in the middle, and made a great noise when they bounced,
which grown-up people did not like to hear, or they were
light grey, with a little round hole in them, and a hollow
inside.
Hetty had a hard red ball, and Milly a soft grey one. Hetty's
ball was called Stella, because it had once bounced into the
fire, and when she had fished it out with the tongs, it was so
sticky and black that she gummed little stars of gold paper
all over it, or rather all over her, as Hetty would have said,
for her balls were quite real people to her, and she was so
fond of playing at ball, that she would tie up her pocket-
handkerchief into a knot and play with that, if she could get
nothing better.
Milly's ball had a much less romantic name; it was called
Pugle. Why, no one could possibly tell. Pugle was a much
better bouncer than Stella, and Hetty would have liked one
of the same kind very much.
Hetty and Milly had a very large garden to play in, but
they did not live quite in the country, and they went to walk
along a road full of houses and shops. One of these was a
little fancy shop, where a kind old lady, in a widow's cap,
with a front of false hair, fastened on with a band of black






46 Cbe Littlt reb Ball.

velvet over her forehead, sold hoops, marbles, tiny wooden
dolls, pictures to paint, of pirates, and Highland chiefs, and
harlequins; she kept Berlin wools too, and knitting needles,
besides lending out novels and tales, some of which the little
girls, and Milly's elder sister Bessie, were sometimes allowed
to hire.
One day Milly wanted to buy some beads to make a pin-
cushion, and while she was getting them Hetty looked round
the little shop, and examined the tray of India-rubber balls.
Among the grey ones there was a small dark red ball, the
like of which Hetty had never seen before. It had no hole
in it, but neither had it a hard lump in the middle. It
bounced magnificently; in Hetty's eyes it was the very per-
fection of a ball.
What did it cost ? Fourpence. Alas! Hetty had not got
fourpence in the world, but she could hardly tear herself
away from this lovely specimen. It was the one ball in the
world for her, and she longed for it, as little girls do long for
anything they set their hearts on.
I shall save up my money and buy that ball," she said to
Milly. "Oh dear, I hope no one elsewill see it and buy it first."
Every day Hetty looked in at the shop to see if her ball
was safe; for she did not believe there was another like it in
the world. Kind Mrs. Tomkins at the shop offered to let her
take the ball, and pay for it when she had her monthly
allowance; but this Hetty was obliged to refuse, as she knew
her Mother would not have approved of it. She entertained







E)e little Utb 33aII. 47

hopes of getting the ball as a present; but when she described
its beauties, her Mother only said, My dear, there are a
great many balls in the house already," and could not under-
stand that there never was a ball like this one.
At last, one day, when they went into the shop for their
governess, Miss Grey, to match some Berlin wool, Milly
produced fourpence from her pocket, and bought the little
red ball. Hetty could hardly believe her eyes, and as soon
as they were out of the shop, she burst out crying, exclaim-
ing, How very, very unkind of you, Milly You knew I
wanted the ball, and was saving up for it, and to go and buy
it just because you have more money-it's a great shame,
and I'll never, never-forgive you-never "
Milly only screwed up her eyes, laughed, bounced the ball
on the pavement, and said nothing; but Hetty went on crying
and scolding, till she was sharply reproved by her governess,
and told that she deserved to lose the ball for being so silly
about it.
Milly, meanwhile, played with the ball, rolled it about in
her hands, and brought it before Hetty's eyes in what was
certainly a very provoking manner.
At last Hetty lost her temper completely, and exclaimed,
" It is a great shame, and very unkind, and I declare I'll
never speak to you again "
Yes you will," said Milly, who was getting rather cross,
too, by this time; "you'll forget, and speak to me in five
minutes-I can make you speak to me whenever I like."






48 f)t -Rittit Efrb 3a11.

No you can't," said Hetty, rashly, "nothing will induce
me to speak to you."
Well, we'll see," said Milly. Perhaps I won't speak
to you."
Hetty tossed up her head and turned her back. She had
inward misgivings that she might either forget her resolution,
or be made too angry to contain herself; but she was deter-
mined to try. It was not at all easy, and it was very
unpleasant. Milly began by taking no notice of her; and
neither of the two silly little girls could play at anything.
Then Milly looked out of the window, and suddenly exclaimed
that she saw a blue tit.
Hetty jumped up, and only just strangled an exclamation
in her throat, as she walked grandly away from the window.
How dull quarrelling was to be sure However, she managed
to keep her resolution all through that afternoon and evening,
and all the next morning; when, after lessons, Miss Grey
said, Hetty, call Milly, and tell her to put away her books."
"I can't tell her, I can't speak to her," said Hetty.
Oh, nonsense! I can't have this silly affair carried on any
longer. Go, and call her at once."
Hetty still lingered, half crying. She would have been so
thankful to be delivered from her resolution, and to run out
into the garden with Milly and play with the little red ball,
even if it did not belong to her. Besides, Hetty had at bottom
plenty of good sense, and she knew that she had been both
silly and naughty about the ball.






Ebhe 2littlIe WrO 331. 49

Presently Milly came back into the room. Hetty," she
said, with an odd twinkling expression in her big dark eyes,
" Go into your bedroom and look under your pillow. You
needn't speak to me. you know, unless you like."
Hetty went into her little room, pushed back the bedclothes,
and there under the pillow lay, round, red, and new, the ball
on which she had set her affections.
Now," said Milly, who had followed her into the room,
" If you like to speak to me and say 'Thank you,' you shall
have the little red ball for your very own. Why, I bought
it for you, only you made such a fuss I wouldn't give it to you."
Hetty stood for a moment open mouthed, then she flung
her arms round Milly's neck. Oh Milly, Milly! I am so
sorry What a naughty girl I have been I will speak to
you! Please make it up !"
Very well," said. Milly. Don't be such a goose next
time. Now then, come out and have a game with it." And
off they went into the garden together, with hearts as happy
as the sun was bright.
But Hetty was very sorry for having misjudged her friend,
and thought her selfish and unkind, when she was really
planning a pleasant surprise for her.
The little red ball received by the united invention of the
two girls the beautiful and striking name of Clara Roschen
Putchkins. Putchkins remained a favourite plaything with
them both, being indeed a most desirable and delightful ball.
But Hetty loved it as if it had been a wax doll or a pet dog.
D






50 Ct)e little rtb 33all.

She slept with it under her pillow, she told it the most
beautiful stories, and when about a year or so after she first
possessed it, she went to stay at Milly's home in the holidays,
Putchkins went too. Milly's home was in the country, with
a great big garden and park, and as the two little girls were
allowed to run wild all over it, the pranks they played there,
and the delightful adventures they had would fill a whole
book full of stories.
But one unlucky day, as they were playing at ball in the
park, Putchkins got lost in the long grass, and though Hetty
and Milly wandered about all day hunting for it they never
found a trace of the beloved little red ball. Hetty was older
now, and ashamed to cry about a plaything, even before Milly,
but she grieved over Putchkins in secret for many a long day.




Years passed away, Milly and Hetty grew up, and turned
their attention to balls of another description, over which, I
am thankful to say, they did not quarrel. Their schoolroom
days were over, but Hetty came down every Summer to stay
with Milly, and they managed to enjoy themselves quite as
much as when they were little girls.
One morning when they were sitting at breakfast with a
large party of brothers and sisters and friends staying in the
house, one of Milly's brothers, who had been out early, came
in and sat down by Hetty's side.






Tl)t uittlt 3&el Ball. 51

"Look here," he said, putting his hand in his pocket;
"look what I've found in the grass by the quarry," and he
showed her a little round, hard, black ball.
Hetty took it in her hand, and glanced at Milly, who ex-
claimed, "Why, Hetty, it must be Putchkins! we lost it by
the quarry, don't you remember? "
Must be what ? said the bewildered brother.
Then Hetty and Milly began at once to tell the story of
their lost treasure.
But," said Hetty, Putchkins was red, and this is
black, and you could pinch it, and this ball is as hard as
iron; but, then, it's been out of doors for years and years,
and it's just the same size."
"I believe it's Putchkins," said Milly; and when break-
fast was over she and Hetty got a long needle and drove it
right through the centre of the ball, proving that it was
really made of India-rubber all through; and they picked a
little hole, and found that the colour of the ball was really
red under its black hard outside. So they felt quite sure
that they had found the lost treasure.
"Nonsense," said the boys, "little red balls are more
common now than when you were children."
"There never was a ball exactly like Putchkins," said
Milly.
I know it's Putchkins; I know it quite well," said Hetty,
"and I shall take good care not to lose it again."
And she never did. Though many more years have passed






52 C. Littl UcIn 33all.

away, and Milly and Hetty have outlived balls of all descrip-
tions, Hetty still keeps Putchkins in a drawer. She has
since set her heart on many another treasure-treasures lost
and gained, and lost again; but she can never quite make
up her mind whether it was a pity that she loved Putchkins
so much. But of one thing she is quite sure, that old
friends remain the same, even if they should get hard and
black outside through the wear and tear of the weather.
















BY MRS. MASSEY



IGHT years old, Mamma, to-morrow!
I am really growing tall;
Nursey told me so, she measured
Where the marks are on the wall.
May I choose my birthday present ?
Last year-fancy-it was bricks;
I was young, and knew no better,
Only just one day from six.

" Eight is rather old for playthings;
Not, perhaps, for dollies yet,
Only I have Christabella,
And I could not bear to tell her
I had got another pet.
She is such a dear old dolly;
And I think she rather feels
That her hair is thin with combing,
And the bran comes through her heels.







54 MilBa' 33irtbbau.

So I thought of something older,
Something she would like as well;
May I have a plant in flower,
One that's very sweet to smell ?
I should like a red camelia,
But that has no scent at all;
Hyacinths are quite too common,
Violets too low and small.

Something for the schoolroom window,
That will make it gay and sweet;
No one else must ever touch it,
Water it, or keep it neat.
May I come with you, and choose it ?
Oh, Mamma, it will not rain;
And I rather like bad weather,
When we sit so snug together,
Looking through the window-pane."

Wind and rain were driving, sweeping
Down the streets that Winter day,
And the children, running homeward,
Lingered not for talk or play;
Only at one windy corner,
Where the meeting blasts blew wild,
All unheeding the cold shower
And the passing of the hour,
Stood and watched a little child.






I4ilba'g J3irtbbau. 55

There with face against the window,
With blue wistful eyes upraised,
On a sunny land of gladness,
With a happy smile she gazed;
Though her frock was thin and mended,
Though her hands were stiff with cold,
She had found a fairy treasure,
That was better far than gold.

Were there sweets in tinsel boxes,
Ranged for show within that shop ?
Cakes to tempt the hungry watcher,
Candied fruit, or sugar-drop ?
Were there dolls with golden ringlets,
Rocking-horse, or tea-things gay?
Did she choose in fancy pleasant
What she would to be her present
On some happy, coming day?

No! 'twas but a little window,
And behind it there were set
Just a clump or two of lilies,
With a pot of mignonette ;
While between them, tall and slender,
Fair with leaves of waxen green,
Stood a budding rose tree, holding
One rare blossom, just unfolding
All its wealth of crimson sheen.






56 Wia'6 i3irtpa.

Little Kate had never wandered
Primrose picking in the dells,
Never seen the early catkins,
Nor a hedgeside blue with bells;
Never laughed with sudden gladness
When a cowslip ball was thrown;
Only at this window dreaming
All these joys in happy seeming
Came to her to be her own.

I will gather such a nosegay,"
With a little laugh, she said,
Pull the crimson rose for Mother,
Lilies white for baby brother,
And the mignonette for Ned."
She had quite forgot the winter,
And the chillness of the hours,
For she fancied she was walking
In a garden gay with flowers.

And she hardly heard the horses
Prancing with impatient feet,
Pulled up suddenly behind her
At the corner of the street;
Hardly saw the gentle lady
Cloaked with fur in dainty wise;
Hilda following close behind her,
Rosy cheeks and eager eyes.






Wi*a'4 33irtbbttav. 57

Till the little maid returning,
Passed her with a gleesome face,
Holding the dear crimson rose tree
Closely hugged in her embrace,
Saying, Now we'll go to dolly,
I am sure she's fond of flowers;
I shall let her kiss and smell it,
And I mean to call it ours."

Who was crying there beside her,
Sobbing low in deep distress!
See the little chilly fingers,
With a timid touch that lingers,
Closely holding Hilda's dress.
" It is Mother's rose you're taking,
Mother's pretty red rose tree;
And I made believe to gather
That first bloom for her to see.

" Every day I come to watch it-
I can stand here and suppose-
There are fairies in that window,
And their home is Mother's rose;
I shall never, never tell her
How the buds are getting red,
Nor the messages they send her
When they know she lies abed."







58 tiIbta'4 i3irtbbap.

Side by side the children, standing
In that wet and dreary street,
Held the crimson rose between them
Both had found so dear and sweet;
Till, with one last sob of parting,
Katie, going, turned to feel,
Gloved and dainty little fingers
Round her chilly fingers steal.


Little girl, I like my rose tree,
And I want to see it blow,
When the pretty buds grow fuller
And the red begins to show;
But I'm older, dear, than you are,
Eight, as nearly as can be,
And I have a doll to play with,
So I give you up the tree.


"Yes, I may, Mamma will say so,
Dolly will not really mind;
I shall tell her you were crying.
And she likes me to be kind.
Dear, to-morrow is my birthday,
When I choose what I shall do,
The red rose was my own present,
And I choose to give it you."







Rilba'2; 93irtbbav. 59

Then the dull street in the city
Grew as gay as fairyland,
While the children stood together,
Crying, laughing, hand in hand:
Finding now a fuller sweetness
In the rose's crimson cup,
Grown to both a richer treasure,
For that joy of sharing pleasure,
And that bliss of giving up.

Thus the rose tree carried homewards
Lit the attic day by day,
Where, with pain and sickness weary,
Between narrow walls and dreary,
Katie's feeble Mother lay ;
When the creeping sunbeams touched it,
And the green leaves shone with gold,
Then the smile of God seemed nearer,
For the love of which it told.

" Why, Mamma, of all my birthdays,
(I remember three at least,)
Why is this the very best one,
With no present and no feast ? "
Then the Mother answered Hilda,
And her words were sweet and grave,
"What we keep we lose, my darling,
What we give away we have."













Tbe auren of )etntidt.

BY THE REV S. BARING-GOULD.


OST little boys and little girls have trouble with
their teeth after once they have got them. They
have trouble enough in getting them, but that was
at a time which they cannot remember. Their Mammas and
Nurses know what a bad time that was, how fractious they
were at night; how touchy by day; how they kicked with
their little legs, like ill-tempered Shetland ponies; how they
clutched at hair, like spiteful monkies; how they bit, like
angry dogs; how they clawed, like cross cats. Poor dears !
it's all their teeth," said Nurse or Mamma.
Now, considering the misery and pain of getting teeth,
one would have hoped that-once got, there would be an
end of the trouble with them. Hard, solid, little pearls:
there they are, set in coral; of course it is all right with them.
Not a bit. No sooner are they come than they begin to
be troublesome. Some grow crooked, and will elbow others
out; some come poking up in the wrong place, because-
please, they have not room. Some begin to decay, decay






EI)e (RuCCI of Delntilstis. 61

before they are out of their babyhood, blas6, absurd, froward,
worn-out creatures. So the dentist has to be called in, and
he pulls out this one, screws out that, taps, stops, pokes
about others, and says-Come again.
Of course, come again. You know, or you will know, that
of all perverse, troublesome, ill-conditioned things, of things
that will give worry, of things that must be disciplined, the
teeth are the worst.
I am sure that already you know the inside of a dentist's
room.
There is the chair, that terrible chair with a contrivance
for the head like that of a photographer, only with this differ-
ence, that the photographer puts your head into it, and pulls
it out undiminished, whereas the dentist puts your head in,
adjusts it nicely to the light, and then pulls it out in frag-
ments-at least, he takes out a tooth first, and then the head
to which it belonged.
Then there is that dreadful mahogany pillar, with a basin
on the top, and a blue glass with warm water in it, and a tap
for bringing in the warm water. Ugh !
Next there is a case in which are horrible tools, pincers,
and pokers, and tweezers, and rammers of all kinds of
shapes; little gouges also, and tiny saws. Ugh again.
Then, on the chimney-piece are some models of red gums
with very white teeth in them, only gums and teeth, all the
rest of the human being to which they are supposed to belong
left to the imagination, as if, in a dentist's eye, men and






62 2lCt lutun of Uentitg.

women were mere apparatuses for walking gums and teeth
to their abodes, and walking them away again. Ugh!
Then there is that smell, that faint chemical smell of-I
don't know what it is, but I know the smell well enough.
And again, Ugh say I.
But lastly-most horrible of all, is the waiting, till the
dentist is ready to receive you, in that dismally fine waiting-
room, where there are some old copies of Punch and Fun,
with, to our fancy at such times, no fun in them, and two
or three Children's Magazines, in which we cannot get up an
interest. Then what a time the dentist delays! What ravages
he must be making in somebody's jaw! There must be
more going on in that room than attending to one tooth.
Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!
And now I am going, not exactly to tell you a story, but
to describe to you the oddest, most marvellous dentist and
dentist's shop I ever came across.
About twelve years ago, one bright Summer day I was in
the Market Place at Brussels. I came, with a very fat jolly
friend, suddenly into it, at about a quarter past eleven in the
morning, after having been to look at S. Gudule, which is the
Cathedral Church of Brussels. Do you know the Market
Place ? On one side is the Hotel de Ville, a lovely Gothic
building, covered with statues, and with an exquisite spire
of fretted stone, rising high over the roof of the Town Hall,
and surmounted with a shining gilt figure of S. Michael
waving his sword of flame and trampling on the Dragon.






E it 2eitn of Stutimt'. 63

The other sides of the great Square are occupied with beau-
tiful old gabled houses; several belong to the Guilds of
Brussels, that is, the Companies of different trades, the
brewers, the archers, the mariners, the weavers, and so on.
The great Square serves as a Market Place, and here the
loveliest flowers are to be seen and bought. In Spring, such
hyacinths! such azaleas! and oh, for the lilies of the valley
in May The whole Square would be sweet with them, were
it not for the onion and garlic, and other vegetables that are
also sold there. Then you may see there the great dogs that
bring the vegetables and flowers to market, huge fellows,
lying asleep under the little green carts into which they were
harnessed to draw the goods to market. Here and there
-if not too late in the morning-you will also see great
shining brass vessels, in which the milk was brought to the
town, also brought by the dogs in carts.
But now, at a quarter past eleven, market is over, the dogs
and the brown-faced, white-capped women, and the little
green carts are gone; so are the flowers, so are the baskets
of vegetables.
I came into the Square from opposite the Town Hall, and I
looked up at the figure of S. Michael, blazing in the sun
against the deep blue sky, and said to my fat friend, Who
would suppose that that figure was seventeen feet high ?"
when he pulled my arm and said, Why, what is up ? "
What was up ? I also asked.
The Market Place was covered with people; peasants,






64 EI)e Qtuten of cntltiat6.

soldiers, citizens, shopkeepers, ladies, nurses, servants, all
kinds of people, packed as thick as they could stand, and in
the middle of the Square was a magnificent carriage, to
which four milk-white horses were harnessed, with silver
trappings, and with white ostrich feathers on their heads.
The carriage was high, on gilt wheels, and was so high that
those in it were visible to everyone in the crowd. It was a
queerly constructed carriage, it had a wide level space between
the seat and the splashboard, and the seat was under a great
hood like a nautilus shell, of some material to look like
mother-of-pearl. Behind this hood, perched in a sort of
rumble, were four men in crimson suits, with brazen helmets
on their heads, from under which hung down long pigtails.
They looked something like Chinese in war costume, but they
were armed only with instruments of music; two had horns
or trumpets, one had a monstrous drum, and one, cymbals.
In the carriage, under the nautilus shell hood, stood a very
tall, handsome woman, with long flowing black hair, large
splendid dark eyes, a golden crown on her head, a crimson
skirt, and a sort of tunic of blue silk embroidered with silver
lilies. Her arms were bare, but her wrists were covered with
bracelets that twinkled and flashed in the sun.
My friend and I were very curious to see what this meant,
and so we elbowed our way through the crowd, and got toler-
ably near to the carriage. There we saw that a groom, in
handsome livery, stood by each pair of horses.
The great crowd was quite hushed when the woman spoke.






E~ft iutien of Drntietw. 65

We could not catch what she said, because we were making
our way at the time near to the carriage. When she ceased,
however, we saw a rush of people, scrambling up the car-
riage side. Some got on the wheels, others on the steps;
one peasant in a blue blouse got nearly into the carriage,
when a very stout, red-faced washerwoman, very blazing
with excitement, and red with heat, caught him by the tail
of his blouse, and dragged with all her might at him. He
clung with his fingers to the splashboard, and with his toes
to the spokes of the wheel, but she was a strong woman, and
she pulled him into a curve, like a spanned bow, and at last
the poor peasant's fingers and toes gave way, and he fell
back into the crowd. Thereupon, the fat washerwoman,
with a crow of triumph, bounced into the carriage, seated
herself on a low chair, folded her arms, and threw her great
cabbage-rose face up, letting her white frilled cap rest in the
lap of the queen-like lady. In a moment, this gorgeous lady
pulled the washerwoman's mouth open, peered in, picked up
an instrument, and approached it to the mouth.
Clash clang Bung, bung, bung! Too-too-too The
instruments behind the carriage made loud and deafening
music; they played, I think, the beginning of the march in
the Prophtte, then stopped.
The Queen stood holding high over her head the instrument
-I knew it, with a shudder-it was a dentist's pincers, and
in it was a great molar tooth, like a bundle of white radishes.
See! See !" exclaimed the Queen, No wonder madame
E






66 f)c r itcn of 3entiatd.

has suffered agonies and boxed her husband's ears! Who
could do other with such a tooth as this ? "
Votre Majest6," said the spluttering washerwoman,
"Hum! hum! hum!" which I suppose meant, "What is
your charge?"
Mais, rien! nothing, not a sou, not a centime. I pull
out teeth for the love of humanity. Ah, madame, go home,
go home, gentle as a dove, and kiss your husband as you
smacked him this morning."
Before the washerwoman could reply, she was torn down
by a ferocious lieutenant in uniform, who, with the flat of
his sheathed sword, beat his way to the carriage, and then
scrambled in. He held his hand to his jaw. The washer-
woman sank in the sea of heads, as if she had gone down
in water; and now all were hushed, and intent to see how
it went with the lieutenant, whilst three or four were pulling
and pinching at each other on the sides of the carriage, trying
-to gain an advantage, and get in next.
But no no chance, as the fond civilians hoped, of hearing
the officer, the man of war, howl with pain.
Clash! clang! Bung, bung, bung! Too-too-too!
The instruments were at it again, going on with a march,
a military one, in honour of the warrior who was having
his tooth drawn. I could see his upturned head, looking
into the great dark eyes of the Queen of Dentists in an
appealing manner, all ferocity and military heroism dead in
them, and his mouth was wide open and one finger was in






ef tuetoe of etntiTtd. 67

it, pointing to a back tooth. Then we saw his blue legs
kicking, his body squirming, his arms flapping-like a fish
at the end of a line just being drawn out of the water-and
the tooth was out !
We saw a dumb show. The lady holding the tooth in her
forceps, and pointing out its hollows to the lieutenant, and
then we saw him urging money on her, and she refusing.
It was only for a moment, and then an old priest, with
white hair, surrounded by some protecting strong sturdy
peasant women, was swept, as by a wave, to the carriage,
and shot on to the splashboard. He landed safely, and
bowed with his shovel hat off, and apologised and pro-
tested; but the lady had him down on the stool in a minute.
The poor old man looked deadly pale, he held his breviary
between his hands, and his face assumed an expression such
as one might expect to see on the scaffold.
Allons courage, M. le Cure !" called his parishioners
who had brought him. There-
Clash clang! Bung, bung, bung! Too-too-too!
And we saw the poor old man collapse, and come tumbling
down out of the carriage, with both his hands to his jaws,
into the arms of the sturdy old women, in blue gowns and
white caps, who carried him off to the pump, where he
might rinse out his mouth.
But there was no time to turn and look after him. A pro-
fessor, with blue spectacles, had taken his place-a tall,
quaint man, with hair cut short, like moleskin, and very






68 Efl)e urtn of BentigtW.

large protruding ears. He seemed very awkward and shy,
and ashamed of himself. When he got up into the carriage
it was with such a swing of his long arms that he swung
himself nearly across it, and out at the opposite side. He
was so diffident that he could not be induced to lay his head
back in the lap of the Queen, but sat on the little stool
hugging his knees, and with his legs looking something like
the capital letter N, the toes of his boots turned upwards,
full of expression of nervous fear. The lady had some
difficulty with him, because his blue spectacles fell over his
nose, and got entangled with her bracelets, but she managed
him at last whilst the band played. I fancy, however, I
heard a sound like the "wry-necked flute," of which Shylock
speaks in the Merchant of Venice," and I saw no flutes in
the orchestra. I suspect it issued from the lungs of the
professor.
The next to apply to the lady was a woman, and she
behaved with much gravity, and was very patient. All at
once the pretty chimes began to ring-it was twelve o'clock.
Then the Queen of Tooth Drawers waved her pretty white
arms, and said, No more my friends; do you hear twelve
o'clock has been called from the clock-tower ? My friends,
I shall be here again this day next week, and I will then
pull out as many teeth as you wish, and charge you nothing-
no, nothing for it. If any of you cannot wait, and can afford
to pay, come to me on any other day at my lodgings, and I
will draw his tooth; but then, he must pay me two francs.







Ci)t eutee of ientists. 69

No, my friends, no." This was to some impatient people,
who were forcing their way to her. No! no more teeth
drawn to-day. I have two little children at home; I have
my husband, all clamouring for food. I have attended to
you for three hours, now I must attend to them." She had
such a pretty, dimpling smile, and she laughed with such a
bright, clear tone.
Then, through the crowd came the lieutenant, elbowing his
way, and holding an enormous bouquet of hot-house flowers.
In the fervour of his gratitude he had rushed off to a florist,
and purchased it. This he presented with a blushing cheek,
and this the Queen received with a bow and a charming
smile, and the people-how they cheered! Hurrah! Hurrah!
as near a good thundering English hurrah as Belgian lungs
could manage.
Then the Queen caught up the white reins of the horses,
took a whip, and, standing, drove out of the market-place,
bowing and smiling, right and left, whilst the people waved
their hats, and jumped, and shouted themselves hoarse.
The Queen had been in Brussels three months, and she
had just sent a donation of three thousand francs to the
Burgomaster to be given to the hospital and poor. At first,
her husband had practised, but without much success. Then
she began. The regular practitioners were furious, as all the
Brussels people with bad teeth deserted them, and besieged
the Queen of Dentists, who, it was said, was rapidly realising
a fortune.














Tcrer frogg.

B Y AMABEL JENNER.



HE fields and hop gardens of East Kent looked very
dreary, for it was a cold, rainy November day. All
the hops were gone, nothing left but bare poles
and tangled masses of bine. Only a couple of months ago,
what a bright, cheerful scene it had been Groups of women
and children, sunshine streaming down the rows, happy
chatter, and pleasant work.
Now, in the distance, one or two mud-coloured labourers
were at work, stacking poles or clearing away the bine, but
no children were to be seen, they were safe in the various
schoolrooms-holidays and harvest all over for the year.
And a good job, too," said one of three frogs, who were
sitting with their chins in the air under the shade of a large
strawberry plant; "it's a most objectionable race from first
to last, that is, as far as I know, for I never came quite close
to one, I am thankful to say."
Lucky for you," said the eldest and fattest frog, in a
gruff, croaking voice; "you would not be here to tell the tale







ti)rte jfrogq. 71

if you had; why the word BOY is never mentioned in our
family, it would send my Mother into a fit. We have even
to avoid words that begin with a B, for she is getting old
now, and she has never recovered the terrible shock of
her youth."
"What was that ? enquired the third frog.
"I remember it as if it were yesterday," continued the
other, "though I was only a tadpole at the time. My eldest
Brother had just got his legs, and was very bumptious and
conceited in consequence. Mamma said she would take him
for a walk, and teach him to hop gracefully, but she sent
him to have a bath first in the shady pool, which was our
home. I remember the airs he gave himself, laughing at my
tail, and assuring me I should be a tadpole all my life. Poor
fellow! he soon had cause to regret the possession of those
four legs of which he was so proud, and I have always been
glad to think that I refrained from returning the kicks he
gave me, though at the time I believe it was pure cowardice,
for I remembered that though he could follow me in the
water, I could not follow him on land.
"With a parting tweak at my unhappy tail, and an ironical
invitation to come too, he scrambled up the bank, and joined
Mamma, who was catching flies in the grass.
I envied him then, but not for long, for late that Summer
afternoon, an Aunt of ours, who lived on the further bank,
swam hastily into our nursery with a troubled expression
on her face.







72 E)rte IFrogg.

"' Alas my poor nephews,' she said; and then she croaked
convulsively.
We were just having a famous game of heads-over-tails
in the sunshine, but we all stopped and crowded round her
while she broke to us the terrible news that our Mother and
Brother had fallen into the hands of some cruel boys, and
were now under separate flower-pots awaiting their fate!
I cannot describe the terror and misery of that moment;
even the delightful discovery I had just made that my first
legs were beginning to grow, could not soothe me."
'Can nothing be done ? I asked.
"'Nothing,' said my Aunt, 'you are all so backward;
you are no use. Why, you ought to be a frog by this time.'
I shook my large head sadly, and murmured a few words
of excuse, but my Aunt was too unhappy to listen ; and at
that moment we heard a loud scream, and suddenly my poor
Mother, breathless and wounded, dashed into the pool. In
a moment we had all descended to our mud nursery below,
while we heard overhead the voices of our cruel enemies.
"'It will have to come up to breathe,' said one squeaking voice.
'I have got a nice handful of stones for it when it does,'
said another.
"' Never mind,' cried a third, what's the use of waiting ?
there are plenty more in the world. Come and play leap
frog out here.'
Leap frog Even their sport they name after, and copy
from, the poor creatures they torment.






Ebre drogg. 73

But to return to my poor Mother. Her condition was sad
indeed, for, in addition to the torture she had undergone,
she had had a run of some yards with the boys in hot
pursuit before she reached the pool. We never heard
exactly what had happened, for, though her health gradually
improved, she was never the same frog again; and to this
day she never hops further than the bank of the pool, where
she occasionally basks in the sunshine."
There was silence for a long time when the eldest frog had
finished speaking, and then the first speaker recommended.
For all that," he said, I don't believe all boys can be
cruel, for my second Cousin once knew a boy who had a pet
frog; he used to feed it on bread and milk, and it had an
earthenware hut in a corner of his little garden. It would
feed out of his hand, and come when it was called."
"I can hardly credit that," said the eldest frog ; "he
must have been a very strange boy."
"Not at all," said the other, climbing up on a pile of
raspberry canes; "his Father, I heard, was a rich man,
and he might have had any pet he liked, but he preferred
the frog to anything else."
You had better not climb up so high," said the eldest
frog, for there are very few boys like your Cousin's friend,
and the rain is not so heavy now."
"They are thoughtless, that is all. A frog to them is
like a plaything, and just as they will pull their Sisters' dolls
to pieces to see why they open and shut their eyes, or squeak







74 Sritt j$rogs.

when they are pinched, so they will torture a frog. They
never think of giving pain, and for my part I don't
believe-"
But the words were cut short, for the bundle of raspberry
canes shook violently, then was raised in the air, and the
frog felt itself carried slowly and steadily away.
For a moment the poor little creature was too much
frightened to realise what had happened, but presently he
ventured to peer through the canes in the midst of which
he sat, and discovered that he was in the arms of a full-
grown boy, one of those terrible beings whom he had been
attempting to defend from the charge of wanton cruelty.
This boy" was more than full-grown, he had a beard
which was more grey than black, and the frog's mottled
skin shook as he gazed.
Quite an old boy," he thought. I must expect no pity.
If he sees me, I am lost; the only chance is to sit still for
the present, and when he puts down his load I must try one
of my famous long hops."
The slow, steady walk continued for about half a mile, and
the poor frog's heart sank lower and lower. "Never, never
can I find my way home," he thought; "parted for ever
from all I care for, life is hardly worth having," and he
became so melancholy, that when the bundle was at last
deposited on the ground, he forgot his flying leap, and then
was so confused that he jumped straight into the arms of
his enemy.
*







ri)re Frogs. 75

Death now," thought the frog, and he shut his eyes that
he might not see the stones.
But, to his surprise, he felt no stones, and instead he
found himself carefully, even tenderly held in this wonderful
"old boy's rough palm.
Poor little beggar," said a gruff voice, "I must have
brought him all across the field in them canes. To think of
that now! Well, he do shake; whatever can he think I
mean to do with him. I may as well carry him back again;
likely enough he's got some mates at the other end, and
would feel lonely up here."
Hardly able to believe its ears or its senses, the trembling
frog felt itself once more carried across the long ploughed
field; no jolting or shaking this time, the old man held it
carefully in one hand, and covered it with the other till he
reached the strawberry bed, then he placed it by the same
plant from whence it had been taken.*
The two friends were still sitting with their chins raised
higher than ever; they had not spoken a word since their
companion had been torn from them, and their surprise at
his reappearance was equal to his own.
Never again, never again tell me that boys are cruel,"
said the grateful frog, his large goggle eyes full of tears; and
he related the account of his journey across the field.
Not all boys, only a few," said the eldest frog, and he
hopped away to the family pool.
A true incident.
















BY CHARLOTTE M. YONGE.



PART I.

LICE STERLING was a solitary little girl, so far
as playfellows of her own age were concerned, for
she had no brothers or sisters, and her home was
not near enough to those of other families to enable her to
be often with young companions.
Her Mother, who was still quite young, and not very busy,
was her chief companion ; she taught Alice her lessons, read
to her at her task of needlework, and shared in her indoor
pursuits and plays in a delightful way. Mr. Sterling was a
busy man, and almost every day went into his office in the
town, where he was employed from ten o'clock till five.
They lived with his Mother, in a very comfortable old house,
with a big garden belonging to it, and a large farm and farm-
yard, which old Mrs. Sterling had managed all herself ever
since she had lost her husband and her eldest son.
She was as fond of her little granddaughter as her own
Father and Mother were, though she had once hurt Alice's






3lactk 3loohts. 77

feelings by wishing she had been a boy. Alice liked trotting
about after her to fetch the eggs, feed the chickens, and look
at the calves and little pigs. Indeed Grandmamma was her
chief out-of-door companion, for Mamma was not strong,
and could only go out for short walks or drives in the
donkey chair on fine days. Thus there were many times
when Alice had to run about the garden alone, or with
Ranger, the spaniel, and Shah and Fatima, the cats, and to
make up games for herself.
This she could do very happily, for she was very fond of
her books. She had not so many story books as children
often have now, for this happened fifty years ago, though
Grandmamma often said she had too many as it was. It
used to puzzle Alice very much that Grandmamma some-
times scolded her for reading too much, and quite groaned
when she talked about historical people like Epaminondas or
the Black Prince; and yet was still more angry with her for
being a tomboy, getting up into the apple trees, climbing to
see birds' nests, or staining her hands when she made a
dandelion chain, that reached the whole length of the green
walk in the kitchen garden. Sometimes this led to little
quarrels with Grandmamma, and there was nothing which
so much vexed her Mother, who often told her that respect
and obedience to her Grandmother was quite as much part
of the Fifth Commandment as honour to Father and Mother.
Indeed tempers of this kind were the chief way in which
Alice could be naughty, as there was nobody to quarrel with,






78 3lach Rooh_.

and lessons with Mamma were so pleasant that she had no
temptation to be idle, except about practising her scales.
Papa used to call her up early in the morning and see to her
sums, and even a little Latin, and this she liked very much
indeed.
One evening, when Alice was ten years old, the six o'clock
dinner was over, and the ladies were in the drawing-room,
Mamma was at work, Grandmamma had put away her knit-
ting to make tea, and Alice was perfectly wrapped up in
" The Swiss Family Robinson." They had just started in
their row of tubs, when Grandmamma's voice said, Alice."
She did not hear, or notice, and Mamma had to say, "Alice !
your Grandmamma spoke to you."
"Alice," said Grandmamma, "run and tell Papa that tea
is ready."
Alice durst not speak, but she gave a look like a thunder-
cloud, drawing her eyebrows together, and darting an angry
flash out of her dark eyes at her Grandmother, as she very
slowly moved.
Her Mother at once rose up and followed her out of the
room. When she had shut the door, she said in a low voice,
" Alice, remember what I told you about those black looks
of yours."
Alice did remember. For her Mother had shewn her the
text which says that in the beginning of Cain's sin, his counte-
nance fell, and had said that these looks were a token of
the wicked feeling in the heart, which grows to everything






33ach ILooks. 79

dreadful. Still she thought it hard, and said, But Mamma
I wanted to go on-"
That is no excuse. My child, you must learn to control
those bad tempers and disrespectful savage looks. I must
punish you to teach you to do so. When you have called
Papa to tea, go straight up to bed, and I hope you will ask
God in your prayers to forgive you, and help you to subdue
these angry feelings."
There was no good-night kiss, as the Mother went back
into the parlour, and Alice went on towards the study, still
feeling hard, and thinking it was unkind to be so severe on
her for being vexed at an interruption at such a point. She
just opened the door, and tried to make her voice natural as
she called out, Tea is ready, Papa," and would have shut
the door, glad that his back was that way that he might not
see how her face was working. But he called to her. He had
been unpacking a parcel, and he said, Alice, I have been
pleased with your diligence and obedience lately, and here is
a present for you."
Alice just saw a beautiful golden-looking copy of Sir Walter
Scott's poems, all in one volume, with pictures. Then some-
thing came like a stab, and she burst into tears. Oh, Papa!
Papa !" she sobbed, I ought not to have it now. I gave a
black look to Grandmamma, and Mamma sent me to bed."
Mr. Sterling looked rather surprised and grieved. He did
not ask any more questions, but he said, You did right to
tell me, Alice; this must wait. Good-night."






80 33lach ILooks.

And he kissed her kindly, so that she went away to her
own little room crying bitterly, for she felt very miserable;
and yet the angered, cross feelings were gone. She no
longer felt savage with Grandmamma for worrying her, nor
vexed that Mamma made so much of a moment's look. No,
that confession had somehow softened the hard crust of
temper. She was really, heartily, sorry now, not only for
what she had lost, but for having felt so undutiful; and she
did, as her Mother had bidden her, think of it when she said
her prayers, so that she was ready to tell of her real sorrow
when that dear Mamma looked in on her way to bed.



PART II.

OBODY said any more about that unfortunate
evening, though Alice often wondered what had
became of the book, which seemed to her more
beautiful each time she thought of it. Had it gone back to
the shop, or had it been given to her Cousin Ellen, who,
she was always told, did everything in which she failed ?
But, of course, she was not always thinking of it, though
really the suffering and sorrow of that evening had made so
much of a mark in her mind as to help her in keeping her
face from looking cross when Grandmamma found dolls or
books or pocket-handkerchiefs where they ought not to be,
and said how different little girls used to be in her time.






331ach Klooht. 81

"Were they always so very tidy and useful?" Alice wondered.
In one thing they were said to have done Alice could not
fancy imitating them. They raised salads and radishes
without end in their little gardens, besides charming posies
and beaupots, and kept them always neat, well raked, and
weeded, so that it was a perfect treat to look at them. Alice
had her garden in the same place, and one year, long ago,
Papa had sown her name, Alice Esther Sterling, in mustard
seed, but no letters came up properly except the A and two
S S's, so as to make A S S. Sowing seeds was all very well,
and so was planting, but weeding was horrid, and the only
nice thing to do was watering, especially on a wet day,
when all the tubs were full, but then Alice always got so
wet herself as to fall into disgrace.
This last year she had given up trying to make things grow.
She had pleasanter things to do with her ground, and there
was no plant in it but one old rose tree, that sometimes had
pale flowers with green leaves and buds in the middle of
them. It was very useful. For in it Alice could act out
all she read about. There was a mountain which could
be a volcano, and the place it was dug from had a broken
crock sunk in it, so as sometimes to be a lake. There was
a castle made of a sea-kale pot, covered in, and with a flag
flying at the top, and with outworks carefully built up of
fragments out of the rubbish pile. Once or twice it lay
on its side for a cavern. It was Aladdin's cave once, and
then the rose tree, and some bits of pea-sticks planted for
F






82 31ach iLoofh.

the occasion, were hung with beads, while solitaire balls lay
on the floor.
It was best of all when Mamma had been reading Ivanhoe
to Alice. Then the castle was set up again, and there was
a grand besieging army, for which Alice had gone to the
poultry yard. She always gathered up feathers, for when
stuck into the ground they made beautiful troops, and some
she had had a long time, and they had names. The Black
Knight was a fine, strong, shining crow's feather; Locksley
she had begged from the owner of a green parrot, but his
men were obliged to be only the cock's green tail feathers,
and so they would bend; Rowena was one of the white
cock's pretty hackles; Wamba, a funny mottled one.
Mamma knew about these plans, and sometimes was
invited to sit on her camp stool, and witness a performance.
Alice used to move about her feathers, sticking them in their
places, and spouting their speeches, mixed up with her own
explanations.
Oh, Mamma," she cried, do, pray, come out! I have
got it all ready for the taking of the castle. I've dug a moat
all round, but I won't let the water in till you come, or it
will all run away; and I've got such a wood-pigeon's feather
for the Friar, all grey with a black tip. And I made a little
window with the bits of the old vegetable dish, and Ivanhoe
is inside, and Rebecca-you can just see her head-she is
the canary bird's tail, you know. Do come, Mamma."
Mamma only waited to finish the letter she was writing,






ilaIch 0toohs. 83

and then she came out over the lawn, down the broad grass
walk between the currant bed and the strawberries. The
minds of both Mother and Daughter began to misgive them,
for by the corner of the wall might be seen Grandmamma's
old garden bonnet, and the battered hat of Jem, the old man
who saw to the garden.
Oh, Mamma," sighed Alice.
"Oh, my dear, take care," said her Mother, squeezing
her hand.
When they came beyond the gooseberry bushes, oh, dread-
ful sight !-castle, Ivanhoe, Cedric, and all were pell mell in
Jem's wheelbarrow. Grandmamma had been making a tour
of inspection, and now she turned round on them. "Alice,
I've been telling Jem I can't have such an untidy place as
this. It is a perfect disgrace-broken crockery, and old
feathers."
It is my castle, Grandmamma, my garden," said Alice,
piteously; I thought it was my own."
"I gave it you to keep in order properly, not to make
messes in," said Grandmamma severely. You've made it
no better than a rubbish hole, and I can't let you keep it so.
I should be ashamed for anyone to walk round the garden.
I have told Jem to dig it up, and make it fit to be seen;
then, if you like to keep it in order, as a young lady should,
you may have it again, if not, he is to make a parsley bed
of it."
Poor Alice! it seemed to her the sweeping away of all her






84 3lact t looftg.

happiness, all her occupation; cruel and unkind beyond
measure, and unjust-for was not her garden her own ? But,
though the tears were in her eyes, she kept her head down,
so as not to dart out her fiery looks, and she felt her Mother
squeeze her hand to help her, and heard her say something
pleading about its being a favourite play place, out of the
way, for Alice to amuse herself with games out of her books.
Very bad for her to be messing about," said Grand-
mamma. Why can't she troll a hoop, or play at ball, like
other children, and get the books out of her head ? No, no;
if she can't keep her garden tidy, she can't have it. What
are you about ? I won't have all that rubbish dragged about
again."
For Alice was trying to rescue the Black Knight from the
wheelbarrow. It was too much. She said not one word,
but she turned and fled from the dangers of shooting out
fierce looks and angry words. She fled to her own room,
and her own bed, and there her Mother presently found her
in floods of tears and sobs. It was some comfort to find
that Mamma had saved Locksley and the Friar, and more
to be told that the dear Mother was very sorry and grieved
for her, but that she must not think Grandmamma unkind,
for she did not guess how much they cared, and they ought
to have remembered her dislike to having untidy places in
her neat garden. At least Mamma said there was the one
comfort that her little girl had tried to bear it well, and had
given no angry looks or words.






3Iacfh foohs. 85

"0 but Mamma, I did-I do feel angry," said Alice,
breaking out again. Why, why- "
Her Mother cut her short; Don't spoil it now, my Alice.
We can't prevent feelings when we are vexed, but if we
don't let them out in words or looks we shall get over them.
Grandmamma has grieved us both much more than she
knows, but we are quite sure she never meant to be unkind."
The words in themselves were not half so much a comfort
as the soothing tender manner, and presently Alice was able
to bathe her eyes, and come out in the donkey chair with
Mamma. \When she came back, Grandmamma met her at
the door with the news of a new brood of ducks being hatched.
And Alice was so interested in going to see the downy things
with pinky bills and little flappers for wings, that she quite
forgot for the time her trouble.
She heard no more of it that evening, but when she woke
in the morning she recollected that a shade had come over
the brightness of her day, and then remembered that her
precious domain was gone. But just then she saw some-
thing that looked very like the gold and green copy of Scott;
and when she stretched out her hand, she found that on the
fly-leaf was written : Alice Esther Sterling, May 30th, 1836.
From her Father, in token of his approbation of her en-
deavours to attain self-command."
Perhaps Alice never was so happy in her life, and there -is
no book she treasures more than that volume of Scott. But
that was not all Papa did for her. He shewed her a bare







86 13Iack Loohl.

place behind the laurels in the drive, where nobody ever went.
And he asked Grandmamma to let Alice use it for a play
place, to which she consented, though declaring that a hoop
or a skipping-rope would be better for the child than all that
nonsense.
It was better than the old place, for there was a laurel
with branches as easy to climb as a staircase. Moreover,
Papa came and himself brought the lost Kale Castle back in
a wheelbarrow, and in the long Summer evenings put up a
seat where Mamma could sit to watch the performances of
knights or fairies, or shipwrecked sailors, whichever she
might be called on to imagine herself beholding.













Mt Bon Wbo tai all bte itbOeO for,

BY FRANCIS CLARE.



OM DEAN was one of the most miserable boys in
all London, not because he was hungry, for his
food was plentiful if plain ; not because he was
ignorant and could have no schooling, for he was sharp and
clever, and had one of the best of teachers in his Father;
not because he was ill-clad and ragged, for his tweed suit,
though threadbare, was whole; but because other boys went
fishing, other boys went boating, other boys went to the sea-
side, and he could do none of these things; not because
Mr. Dean was mean or unkind, but simply because he could
not afford to give his children these pleasures; and of all
the family Tom felt privation most keenly.
They had all been taught in the school of poverty, and
were wise with its sad wisdom ; even Bessie and Dulcie, the
two youngest, knew better than to ask for sweets when they
passed a sweet shop, but though Tom kept silence likewise
the iron entered his soul.
He was tired of everything under the sun ; tired of never






88 t)e So3u uljo iaba all l1)t Witl)rb for.

being able to keep a dog, because of the tax; tired of wearing
stout Winter boots (mended ones, too,) in Summer-time,when
others wore patent leather, which did not chafe their feet;
tired of the plain fare at home; tired of the tumbledown
old house in Hammersmith, which his Father rented because
it was cheap; tired of daily and hourly hearing, We can't
afford it;" or, We must make spare." In short, he was
weary of all things in life, and most of all of being Tom
Dean.
I wish," he said to himself one day as he wandered up
and down the banks of the Thames, watching the boats as
they darted under Hammersmith Bridge, I wish that I
could have Aladdin's wonderful lamp for an hour, or go to
the diamond fields and come home with my pockets full of
money. Father should no longer say that he was a man
who did odd jobs, and that he belonged to the army of the
briefless; he should have a pleasant farm i'n the country-if
he didn't become Lord Chancellor Mother and the girls
should have a new rig-out from head to foot; no more
shabby dresses and bonnets ; and as for the boys, why
Harry and Jack should have gold watches, and Austin
should have an oaken bookcase, full of new books. As for
myself, I'd first of all go to a confectioner's and have as
many ice creams and cakes as I could eat, then I would
hire a boat, and row down the river to Richmond, where I
would dine at the 'Star and Garter,' on something better
than cold beef and roly-poly pudding. That would be jolly,






l)te 3oP tob)o ibab all bj luirbcb for. 89

that would be a life worth living," he concluded, with a sigh,
as he looked up to the sky, as if hoping it would rain gold
and diamonds. But it rained neither, so he waited, like a
little Micawber, for something to turn up.
And so it did, by and bye, in the shape of Cousin Peter.
"Who was Cousin Peter ?" you ask.
Well, he was the rich man of the family; like an Eastern
King he was rarely seen, but sent tokens of his existence in
the shape of Christmas hampers and presents of choice fruit
now and then to his needy Cousin, the barrister, Tom's
Father.
At last the great man spoke, and to the purpose, too. He
offered to take any one of the Deans' boys, bring him up as
his own son, and put him into his own business when he
became of the right age; only-and this only was the black
spot in the peach-he must have nothing at all to do with
home, and his own people, until after he was of age, for then,
it was shrewdly added, he could not be influenced in his
choice of a trade.
"Cousin Peter has, in reality, asked us to give up our
boy," said Mrs. Dean, when they received this letter; We
must decline, I think."
No," replied her husband, we will let the lads make
their own choice; Peter may be queer, but he means well."
So he called the children together under the cedar tree in
the garden, and read the letter aloud. When he came to
the words, I don't want girls, Dean; petticoats won't do,"




University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs