• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Table of Contents
 The impressions of a baby
 Birds and blossoms
 Johnny "interviews" an anemone
 Sight
 How grandpa taught Jimmy to...
 Nora's fan
 In the snow
 Inside and out
 At boarding school
 Babyhood
 In the library
 Wings
 A child's wisdom
 How the decided which was best
 A Kansas nursery
 Back Cover
 Spine














Group Title: All sorts of children
Title: All sorts of children /
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00054412/00001
 Material Information
Title: All sorts of children /
Physical Description: 132 p. : ill. ; 23 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Rollins, Alice Wellington, 1847-1897
Cassell Publishing Co ( Publisher )
Publisher: Cassell Publishing Company,
Cassell Publishing Company
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: c1886
Copyright Date: 1886
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1886   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1886   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1886
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by Alice Wellington Rollins.
General Note: Contains prose and verse.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00054412
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: notis - ALH7213
alephbibnum - 002236735
oclc - 65537557

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Front Matter
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
    Frontispiece
        Page 6
    Title Page
        Page 7
        Page 8
    Dedication
        Page 9
        Page 10
    Table of Contents
        Page 11
        Page 12
    The impressions of a baby
        Page 13
        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
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
    Birds and blossoms
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
    Johnny "interviews" an anemone
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Sight
        Page 49
        Page 50
    How grandpa taught Jimmy to spell
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Nora's fan
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
    In the snow
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
    Inside and out
        Page 77
        Page 78
    At boarding school
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
    Babyhood
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
    In the library
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
    Wings
        Page 103
        Page 104
    A child's wisdom
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
    How the decided which was best
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
    A Kansas nursery
        Page 131
        Page 132
    Back Cover
        Page 133
        Page 134
    Spine
        Page 135
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ALL OF US.








ALL SORTS OF CHILDREN.







BY
ALICE WELLINGTON ROLLINS,
Author of THE STORY OF A RANCH," etc., etc.






-, . ,









CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY
104 AND I06 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.





























COPYRIGHT, 1886.

By O. M. DUNHAM.



















All rights reserved.
















DEDICATION.



To THE NAUGHTY ONES,

WHO, BY SOME MISTAKE, WERE FORGOTTEN IN COMPILING

THE REST OF THE BOOK, THIS LITTLE

DEDICATION

IS AFFECTIONATELY OFFERED, BY ONE WHO LOVES THEM.


















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PAGE
PAGE
THE IMPRESSIONS OF A BARY. 13
BIRDS AND BLOSSOMS, 33
JOHNNY INTERVIEWS" AN ANEMONE, 37
SIGHT, 49
HOW GRANDPA TAUGHT JIMMY TO SPELL, 51






INTHE LIBRARY, 91
W INGS, 3 .. . 3
A CHILD'S WISDOM 105

HOW THEY DECIDED WHICH WAS BEST, 109
A KANSAS NURSERY, 131-














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ALL SORTS OF CHILDREN.


THE IMPRESSIONS OF A BABY.

My name is Darling.
'- 'That is, they say it is; but
I don't see why it should
-q, ---, be for papa's name is Mr.
---.. -. Davenport, and mamma's
name is Mrs. Davenport,
i and Lu's name is Miss
Louisa Davenport, and the boys call Johnny
just Davenport"; so I should think there
would be something with a Daven-
port in it for me, if I am one of
the family. But they
all say I am just a Dar-






14 THE ZI1IPRESSIONS OF A BABY.
ling; so I suppose I am. There's something the
matter with me. I can't walk. I have to lie in
my bed all the time, or else sit on the big bed,
propped up with pillows. I should think they
would try to do something for me. Of course,
they're all very kind; papa tosses me a good deal,
and mamma rocks me, and Nanette sings to me.
They try to make me forget it as much as they
can, and pretend they don't notice that I'm any
different from the rest of them ; but all the same
I wish they'd call in a doctor and see if they
couldn't do something for me; I always did
hate pretence.
And I can't talk. I'm so different from all the
rest of them that I can't help wondering where I
came from. One day I thought I would ask
Nanette. Nanette is my French nurse, and
when I woke up I saw her watching me. So I
said,





THIE /I1'PRESSIONS OF A BABY. 15





.. t i..n e.'
















To my perfect astonishment, Nanette under-
stood me. She can't talk like the rest of them,
either, and can't understand a word papa and
mamma say when they are speaking to each
other. But she understood me. So that is evi-






16 THE IMZPRESSIONS OF A BABY.
dently one thing that's the matter of me: I'm
French.
"Ah! the dear little fellow!" said Nanette,
snatching, me out of the cradle. Where can
such a Darling have come from ? It must have
been that the pretty angels were playing with
their dolls one day in heaven, and putting them
into little boats and sailing them on the pond;
and some of the prettiest boats got away, and
came sailing down to the earth, with the darling
dolls in them, so that the angels never found
them again. But one day, when the dear
mamma went into her room, she found the pret-
tiest of all the
Z -.-I little boats an-
t' chored close
to her bed,
with the pret-
i 'tiest of all the






THE IMPRESSIONS OF A BAB Y. 17
dolls sound --- 4 US15
asleep in it. i .
And of course ..
she kept him,







thing quite so ^ -
silly as that ? I don't know much about boats,
for I've never been in one; but I know that a
doll can't steer and that a boat never sails into
a room. But it's no use to argue with a woman;
so I just let Nanette think I believed her.
with me, and he brought his German nurse with

him, and I thought perhaps she would know. I
knew, of course, that i I were French it would
doll can't steer and that a boat never sails into
a room. But it's no use to argue with a woman;


with meiand he brou(Tht his German nurse with

him, and I thought perhaps she would know. I
knew, of course, that if I were French it would






18 iE IMPRESSIONS OF A BABY.








/ '. .:. -










be no use for me to try to speak to her in Ger-
man; but I spoke to Tommy and he went and
spoke to her.
"Gretchen," he said, "where did the baby
come from ?"
And Gretchen looked up very pleasantly and
said,






THE IMPRESSIONS OF A BABY. I9'
The stork brought him, Master Tom-
my.
"She says the stork brought you," Tommy
reported to me.
What's a stork, Tommy ?"
I don't know. Gretchen, what's a stork ?"
A stork, Master Tommy ? Why, the stork's.
the bird that brought the baby."
Humph I muttered. That's what I
should call arguing in a circle: the baby is what
the stork brought, and the stork is what brought
the baby. Tell her, Tommy, that there may be
storks where she came from, but there isn't any
bird in the United States big enough to handle
me.
Then I thought I would try Cousin Emily.
So one day when she was going past my cradle,
I called out to her,
"Cousin Emily! Cousin Emily! goo-goo !"






20 TIIE IMPRESSIONS OF A BABY.

And Cousin Emily stopped and laughed and
caught me up in her arms.

"' Where did you come from, baby dear ?
Out of the everywhere into the here!' "

Now, that was worse than either Nanette or
Gretchen. Cousin Emily has been spoiled by
reading Emerson.
Then one day it occurred to me that perhaps
mamma might have learned a little French by
this time, having Nanette so long in the house;
and I thought I would ask her. Papa says
she is a remarkably intelligent woman, but she
always seems to me more foolish than any of the
rest when it comes to talking with me. How-
ever, I would try her.
So one day when I woke up and found her
by the cradle, instead of Nanette, I said just as
distinctly as I could,








THE IMPRESSIONS OF A BABY. 21











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I-, .
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SMamma, goo-goo "

And she really had learned French enough at

last to understand me.

"Where did my Darling come from ?* Why,

Adapted from the French of Jean Aicard.






22 THE 1I1PRESSIONS OF A BABY.
one day I was walking along the street and I
saw an old man coming with some big bas-
kets on his back full of flowers and birds and
babies. '0, sir,' I said, 'won't you please
give me one?' 'Certainly, ma'am, he an-
swered very politely; and then he handed me
a beautiful rosebud. '0, I didn't mean a rose-
bud, sir! if you please. I'd rather have one
of those dear little babies; that one in the:
corner with a tear in his eye. I should like
to try and rub away the tear and make him
always happy.'
"' Bless you, ma'am, that isn't a tear; it's only
a drop of dew that has brushed off from one of
the roses and got in his eye. The babies don't:
mind it, ma'am, a bit. You'd much better take
a rosebud, ma'am; for you never can tell what
children will be when they grow up. Some-
times, from being with so many flowers here in












































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ek.














FLOWERS AND BIRDS AND BABIES."









THE IMPRESSIONS OF A BABY. 25
the basket, they seem to get all the thorns,
as well as all the sweetness, away from
the roses, and they bristle all over with
little faults that are very disagreeable. You'd
much better take a pretty rosebud, ma'am.'
"'Thank you; I'd
rather have the little
boy, the one with the.
tears in his eyes.' ..
"'All right, ma'am,'
he said, loosening his -"
pack and trying to
separate my Darling from all the birds and
flowers.
"' But I warn you, ma'am, that you'll have to
be very careful of him and not let him get away
from you. Sometimes the children get a trick
of fading, just as the flowers do. I sold one
lady a beautiful little girl, and by and by she






26 THE I71PRESSIONS OF A BABY.


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came to me sobbing and crying, and said that
her little girl was fading away just as the flowers
did. I offered to give her another, but she said
no, she wanted just that very one again! and I
could not help her; and one day she came and
told me that the beautiful little girl had faded
quite away. I tried to comfort her, and I told









































































































































































































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THE IMPRESSIONS OF A BABY. 29
her that though the children sometimes had a
trick of fading like the flowers, from having been
with them so much, they had a way, too, of
catching the trick of the birds, and knowing how
to fly. They all have little bits of wings hidden
in their shoulders, and when they seem to have
faded, they just really spread their little wings as
the birds have taught them to, and their little
souls fly straight back to heaven, which is where
I got them from, and there the good God
watches over them till their papa and mamma
are ready to come too. 0, yes, ma'am, they
fade and fly away very easily! You'll have to
be terribly careful of this one.'
"And then I promised him that I would
shut the baby up tight in my heart and keep
him there always, so he couldn't get away from
me,"-("that's why she took good care to get a
baby that couldn't walk," I muttered to myself)-






30 THE IMPRESSIONS OF A BABY.
-, "" and O, my Darling!"
S'""., Here she caught me up
and nearly smothered me,
so that if I had been a flower, I am very sure I
should have faded on the spot, you won't
spread your little wings and fly away from me,
ever, will you, dear?"
It was just as well to humor her. Especially
as I didn't care about wings. All I wanted was
feet. So I said very solemnly,
Mamma, let us compromise; I'll give up
my wings if you'll get me a pair of feet that can
walk."
Walk!" exclaimed mamma in the greatest
astonishment.
"Do you really ----
mean that you
would like to
walk ?"






THE IMPRESSIONS OF A BABY. 31


A- 0_>.-1











~ i E E i i H A 0 1 L D L k.

"Yes, I do," I answered firmly, waving my
hands about a little, so as to frighten her and
make her think my wings were growing.
Then you shall walk !" and mamma hurried
about and put a little short dress on me and ran
out into the garden with me and stood me up
behind a bush and told me when I saw papa
coming to run to him. And I was going to run,






32 THE IJ'PRESSIOAS OF A BABY.

but she held on to me so tight that I couldn't;
when papa came, however, he took hold of one
hand and mamma held on to the other, and I
really did walk along the path between them;
so I shouldn't wonder if some day I learned to
walk as well as any one. But we were all
rather tired out with the excitement just then;
so I told them I didn't care to walk any more
that day, and I guessed they had better put me
to bed again. Which they did.




0 -r .-
'_ - -.







BIRDS AND BLOSSOMS. 33


























And lit upon an apple-bough, that stirred
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With rapture of delight to hold her there
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Had bro t tm wh he, a s'o murmured









In greeting,- Little bird, a poor old tree




In greeting,-" Little bird, a poor old tree
Scarce can breathe worthily its thanks to thee,
For these sweet flowers thou hast brought to me







34 BIRDS AND BLOSSOMS.

And then the pretty bird whose restless feet
Danced in and out among the blossoms there,
For very joyousness sent rippling sweet
A carol of bright laughter through the air.
Flushing with joy, the blooming sprays swung high,
Responsive to the quiver of her wings;
As light of heart beneath the summer sky
Her voice ceased suddenly its twitterings,
To murmur back, Thou foolish, dear old tree,
It is not I who bring the flowers to thee,
But thy most tempting flowers that bring me!"










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IN THE WOODS.
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JOHZVNY "INTERVIEWS" A A AEMNEON 37



JOHNNY "INTERVIEWS" AN
ANEMONE.

"OH, dear!" sighed Johnny, as he threw
himself down on the ground one Saturday morn-
ing, all out of breath after his long run to the
woods, where he had gone to get rid of the very
sight and sound of teachers and books. How
I wish I could camp out here for the summer,
like that anemone over there; that is, as long as
there is any blue sky."
"Is the sky blue?" asked a little voice near
him, very plaintively.
It was the Anemone.
Why, don't you see how blue it is ?" an-
swered Johnny.
How can I see, when I haven't any eyes ?"






38 JOII.VAY V 'IXTE VIE VWS" AN ANEzMONAE.
That's so you haven't any eyes; I never
thought of that. Still, it seems to me you have
rather a nice thing of it out here, anyhow ;
plenty of cool air and shade, with just enough
Sunshine."
"Yes," said the little flower, wistfully; it's
very nice, all except the bears."
Bears !" exclaimed Johnny. Why, you're
not afraid of a bear, are you ? Bears don't care
anything about anemones; no bear would run
after you "
No; he wouldn't run after me, but he might
run over me, you see ; and that's why I'm afraid
of them."
But there aren't any bears here," said
Johnny.
How do you know that ?" asked the Ane-
mone.
"Why, I've read about bears in books, and






JOHNNY INTERVIEW IWS" AN ANEMONE. 39

my teachers have told me something about them,
too. There are grizzly bears out in the Rocky
mountains, and polar bears up in the Arctic
regions; but there aren't any bears at all in
these woods."
Dear me! said the Anemone. How
splendid it must be to be able to know things!
If you only knew what a load you have taken
off my mind So your teacher told you that;
do you suppose I could hire a teacher to come
out here and teach me ?"
"I don't know," answered Johnny, doubt-
fully. I guess not; teachers have to be paid,
you know, and you don't earn any money, I
suppose ?"
No," said the little flower, ruefully. "I
can't earn money; can you ?"
"Yes, indeed perfect heaps of it, shoveling
snow and weeding the garden, and such things.






40 JOI HNNY "INTERVIEWS" AN ANAlEMONE.
But then I don't have to pay the teacher with
that ; papa pays the teacher. I spend my
money for candy and things. When I'm a man,
I expect to earn money enough to have every-
thing I want."
Dear me what would I not give for such a
chance as yours," said the Anemone. "I should
like so much to learn things; you don't happen
to know any teacher who would come and teach
me for nothing, do you ?"
No," said Johnny, decidedly, "I don't.
But I'll tell you what I could do: I could bring
some of the boys out here to tell you things."
And do they know a great deal ?"
Well, we don't know as much as the teach-
ers, of course; but we know more,"-Johnny
hesitated a moment, trying to put the matter as
delicately as possible,-" we know more than
some people."






JOHNAY _INTER VIE WS" AN ANEMONE. 41
And do you learn something every day ?"
"Yes," said Johnny, after a moment's reflec-
tion; "we learn something every day."
Then by and by you'll know a lot ?"
Yes, indeed," asserted Johnny, more confi-,
dently this time. When I'm a man, I shall
probably know all there is to be known."
Dear me What a chance But when
will you bring the boys ?"
Next Saturday, perhaps."
Next Saturday exclaimed the little flower
in dismay. Why, I shan't be alive next Satur-
day I only live twenty-four hours, you know.
How many hours do you live ?"
Hours !" exclaimed Johnny. "Why, I hope
to live seventy-five years, and may be I shall live
longer than that."
Seventy-five years to live to learn things in!
-and a teacher too! Oh, what a chance! "






42 JOHAVY LiTELR VIE WS" AN ANEMONE.
Well, it's evident you ought to begin your
education at once," said Johnny, with decision.
" As you haven't much time to spare, don't you
think,"-again Johnny hesitated a moment; then
he asked, a little doubtfully
Would you mind being picked ?"
Would I mind being picked shrieked the
Anemone. How would you like to have your
head snapped off ? "
Not very well ; but you seemed so anxious
to learn "
"That's very true," said the Anemone thought-
fully. "It's worth a good deal of a sacrifice. It
was such a relief to know about the bears! and
I suppose, if you couldn't learn things any other
way, you would be willing to have a leg or an
arm cut off, wouldn't you ?"
Well," said Johnny, evading the question,
"I was just thinking that if you didn't mind

















'-- "''.,





























"WOULD YOU MIND BEING PICKED
''- . *'," ..--' _. ...


WUL YU IN BIN PC;'I-EDP:i.jt









JOHNNY "INTERVIEWS" AN ANEMONE. 45
being picked, I could take you home to mother;
and just by hearing her talk, you would learn
heaps of things."
Mother ?" asked the Anemone, lifting her
little face eagerly. What is a mother ?"
Well, I declare !" exclaimed Johnny. Not
to know what a mother is! I'm sure I don't
know how to tell you about her; you have to
have a mother to know what she is. She's a
dreadful thing not to have. I suppose you're
like Topsy, and just 'growed' ? "
Is Topsy your sister?"
No, indeed; Topsy is a story," explained
Johnny.
But how do you know stories ?"
S"Why, I read them," said Johnny.
And do your teachers teach you to read ?"
"Yes," said Johnny, reluctantly, conscious
that he was confessing a great deal of indebted-






40 JO-YVJIN "'INTE1RVI7AEWS" AN AEALMONE.
ness to the very teachers and books he had
"just hated so, that very morning.
"I think you may pick me," said the little
Anemone softly. It may hurt me some, but I
would rather know something before I die.
Please pick me right away, and take me home
to your mother! "
I'll tell you what I could do," suggested
Johnny. "I could take you up, roots and all,
without picking you off the stem, and carry you
home in my basket. And if any one can make
you live a little longer than twenty-four hours,
mother can."
0, you dear, lovely boy said the grateful
little Anemone, as Johnny lifted it carefully into
his basket, roots and all. Now you can talk
to me all the way, and tell me things; for, as
you say, I haven't any time to spare."
Well," said Johnny as he trudged along,





JOHNNY "INTERVIEWS" AN ANEMONE. 47
" I'm sure I didn't think I should ever be a
teacher. Do you know,"-he paused again, in
his endeavor to speak very politely,-"do you
know-anzyting ? "
Not much," said the little flower humbly. I
only know what you've told me this morning."
Well, that's something to begin with," said
Johnny, encouragingly. "I don't always know
what my teacher has told me in the morning.
Dear me that reminds me; he did tell me this
morning that if I were going to the woods to-
day, he wished I would bring him an anemone
for his collection. Now, if you like, you can be
pressed and put into a book, and have your
name written under you, and be shown to lots
and lots of children; and then, don't you see,
.you'll be a teacher, too; and, between you and
me, it's a great deal better fun to teach than to
learn!"






48 JOHNNY INTERVIEWS" AN ANEMONE.
"Is it?" said the Anemone, eagerly. I
like learning so much that it doesn't seem as if
I could like teaching any better. But I think I
shall let you press me and put me in the book "
And when Johnny brought his teacher the
Anemone, and told him about it, the teacher
smiled, and wrote on the blackboard as the
day's motto for all the children to learn by
heart : "Remember, nothing is so insignificant
but it may teach something, and no one so wise
but he may learn something !"




.5- .
v* {'
'*^ r-7 OF,' --;







SIGHT. 49



SIGHT.

I TRY to make the baby on my knee. ,.
Look at the sunset; pointing where it '- -
glows
Beyond the window-pane in tints of rose
And violet and gold; when suddenly
He dimples with responsive baby-glee,
I think how wonderfully well he knows
Its beauty; till the changing child-face .,
shows
He had not seen the sky, but laughed
to see
The sparkle of my rings;-0O baby
dear,
This world of lovely gems and sun-
sets, bright
With children's faces,-is perhaps the .
near
Though lesser glory, dazzling our poor .
sight,
Until we can not see, for very light,
The heaven that shines for us, revealed -
and clear.


















1*!




2j






HOW GRANDPA TAUGHT JIMMY TO SPELL. 5r


Sbad of ga a. If a a






















don't care whether I can spell or not, I don't see
I. ..









why grandpa should. But he's always saying.
that it's time Jimmy was learning to spell.
-\''C .. : ,! ._
E '-' .... .




















that it's time JimmyT wasc learning~ to spell.






52 110 IV GRANDPAr TAUGlHT JIAIIIY TO SPELL.
Why, I can talk just as well without spell-
ing, grandpa," I told him one day.
But you couldn't write a letter, Jimmy."
Yes, I could ; I could look in the dictionary."
But you wouldn't know whether to look
under c or k"
"Yes, I should ; I would look under c, and if
it wasn't there, I should know it was k."
But that didn't satisfy him. And one day
when we were out doors, letting the chickens
out of the hen-yard, I ran into the hen-house
which had wire netting all round it, and before
I knew it, grandpa had pulled the door to and
fastened it with the button on the outside.
S "Now, Mas-
ter Jimmy, we'll
.Ss- have a spelling
.lesson. When
/ you can spell






HOW GRANDPA TAUGHT JIMMY TO SPELL. 53
every word in this sentence,"-and he showed
me a big flat book where he had written in great
big letters:
"JIMMY IS IN THE CAGE,"
.so that I saw he had planned it all beforehand,
" then I'll let you out! "
I stood still a minute, thinking what I could
*do. I know how to get out when mamma says
I can't. One night when there were some boys
in the street playing ball after supper, I wanted
lto go out with them, but mamma and Aunt
Eliza said I couldn't, because it was too late.
I thought if I tore round, and stamped a good
deal, and made a great fuss, perhaps they would
let me go, to get rid of me; but the minute I
began to stamp, Aunt Eliza marched me off up-
stairs to my room. And my room is a back
room; so I couldn't even look out of the window
at the other boys.





54 HO I GRANDPA TAUGHT JIMMY TO SPELL.
The next time I thought I'd stay down-stairs
any way and look out. So I kept very still and
crept inside the parlor curtains and had a pretty
good time looking on. By and by I heard Aunt
Eliza whispering to mamma; and she said,
Ellen, do look at the dear, patient little
fellow I hate to see children trying to bear
things; couldn't you let him go out just a little
while ? I declare, it's pathetic to see him smil-
ing and trying to have a good time all by him-
self!"
When I heard that, I thought I would
smile some more; and I did, quite loud. Then
mamma came up behind me and put her arms
round me and said very softly,
Are you very much disappointed, Jimmy
dear ? Do you want to go very much ?"
Not very much, mamma," I said, as low as
I could; for I was beginning to find out that






HOW GRANDPA TAUGHT .IMMY TO SPELL. 55
this was the way to do with mothers and aunts.
Then I smiled some more.
Well, if you'll promise me not to go far, and,
not to stay very long, perhaps you may go out a
little while! "
And I went. It's the queerest thing; but
Aunt Eliza says she don't like to see me bear-
ing things, and then if I don't bear them, she
goes and gives me a lot more to bear.
Any way, I thought I would try my new plan
on grandpa.
So I smiled.
But it didn't make any difference. Grandpa
took no notice and went on fixing his book.
Then I smiled louder.
But grandpa only seemed pleased that I
wasn't going to scream.
Now, Jimmy," said he, we'll have an
object lesson. I don't believe any more than






56 H1O W GRANDPA TAUGHT T JIMMY TO SPELL.
you do in musty old
school-rooms and li-
braries and text-books
and globes and maps;
we'll only have object
lessons. When we want to spell
'JIMMY IS IN THE CAGE,'
we'll put him in a cage, and then he'll never for-
get it."
But, grandpa, wouldn't it be just as good for
an object lesson if you let me out and had me
spell
'JIMMY IS OUT OF THE CAGE?'
There's more words in that; so I should learn
more.
That's a capital idea, Jimmy. We'll take that
for the next lesson. But we'll begin with in.''"
I-n, in," I said promptly; for Harry had
taught me that.






HOW GRANDPA TAUGHT JLMafY 70 SPELL. 57
Good, Jimmy, good," said grandpa, nodding
his head at me. But-- "
I don't know the other yet;" I said quickly,
to interrupt him before he thought of anything
harder. "But I suppose if i-n spells 'in,' n-i
must spell 'out,' doesn't it ?"
Jimmy," said grandpa quite suddenly, and I
thought he looked as if he were going to laugh,
"I believe I'll let you go after all."
All right, sir," I said cheerfully. By the
way, grandpa, does z stand for zik ? "
Why, there's no such word as zik, Jimmy."
"Yes, there is; don't you know, when you
say, 'ple zik scuse me' ?"
And then grandpa laughed so that he could
hardly undo the button.
It's very queer; when I want to get away
from mamma and Aunt Eliza, I have to smile
myself; and when I want to get away from






58 HOOW GRANDPA TA UGHT JIMMY TO SPELL.
.,I ',g. randpa,
I h a ve
i t o m ak e
t4 -, I /him smile.
There's a
Slot of differ-
ence in peo-
Sa m-e - ple. Any
way, grandpa
must have thought
SI was a pretty




he gave me a beautiful picture-book. I guess he
thought it wasn't much use to give me reading;
but I do like pictures. He said after this he
should give me pictures and tell me stories, and
not expect me to read or write much. And that






HOW GRANDPA TAUGHT JIMMY TO SPELL. 59












/


same evening he did tell us a lot of stories, and
I guess he told mamma some, for I saw her
laughing. But after he finished ours, we all
went into the dining-room and spread my new
book out on the table and had a good time with it.
Rosy and Millie only laughed when I told them
that it was my reward of merit for being such a
good speller; but I guess grandpa wouldn't give
me a new book for spelling-badly.






60 1O V GRANDPA TA UGHT JIii Y TO SPELL.
Then just as I was.
going up to bed I re-
''.i.. .... membered that Harry
: .. and Joe were doing
S''5- their lessons in the li-
S brary, and I thought
I'd go in and tell them..
how they could get rid
of doing them if they wanted to. They were
still as mice and working away at their books;
but I knew they wouldn't mind this kind of
interruption; so I just walked in and said,
Harry, I can tell you a way to get off from.
your lessons, if you want .
to."
"Tell away, then," said
Harry ; but I guess he
hadn't much confidence in
me for he didn't even
























































TO-MORROW'S LESSONS.









HOW GRANDPA TAUGHT JIMMY TO SPELL. 63
look up, and went on scribbling for dear
life.
Well, when your teacher asks you something
you don't know, just say, please excuse me,
and he'll let you right off. I tried it to-day on
grandpa."
Henry said that was just nonsense; but Joe
told me that he tried it next day with his teacher
and the teacher only laughed.
But that's what you want," I explained.
" You want to make him laugh. It's the laugh-
ing that does it. Grandpa laughed, and then he
undid the button and let me out."
But it didn't work at all with any body but
grandpa. There's such a difference in people!

f) I~
(?" -" .








































r~~~i~5k, i


4 -!',

9
~~-~-'
'''


"






__s








NORA'S FAN. 65












., "- ,













NORA'S FAN.

Of all the radiant pictures stored
By happy summers in my brain,
Long afterward by winter fires
To dream and see and live again,
I think the one most fair to me,
That longest in the firelight glow
Will linger at the twilight hour-
A little scene not long ago.
,,, ' -''^^










NORA'S FAN.

Of all the radiant pictures stored
By happy summers in my brain,
Long afterward by winter fires
To dream and see and live again,
I think the one most fair to me,
That longest in the firelight glow
Will linger at the twilight hour--
A little scene not long ago.







66 NORA'S FAN.

A shaded walk of arching trees,
Where laden with their books and shawls
Came listlessly, with lingering steps,
Two tired travelers from the Falls.
While framed within the doorway stood
Like sea-nymph risen from the foam,
In daintiest dress of white and blue,
The little maiden left at home.

Then swiftly down the shaded walk
Quick dancing came the restless feet;
While eagerly the fluttering hands
Threw kisses that we ran to meet.
Like shining stars the expectant eyes
Our many little parcels scan ;
Impatiently the young voice cries,
O, auntie did you bring a fani ?"

Yes, dearie, such a lovely one!
White as my darling's dainty dress;
Downy and soft as this dear spot
Just made for auntie's lips to press.
All round the edge are rosy plumes
Tinted to match a lip like this;
Costly-you'll have to give me, dear,
One more bewildering soft kiss "

Then while the trembling little hands
In vain try to investigate
The close-wrapped treasure, eagerly
The happy heart that could not wait,







NORA'S FAN.











Asked once more, while expectant joy
Over the sweet young features ran,
"Auntie, is there a little bird
Right in the middle of the fan ?"

My heart misgave me ; many a bird
In many a fan our eyes had seen;
And yet our simpler taste had bought
A fan where never bird had been.
Rose-red and white the pretty toy;
But now I realized too late
That for the little longed-for bird
No other grace would compensate.

"No, dearest, this one has no bird;
But then it is so soft, you know;
So very white, so very red,
So beautiful, so downy, so-
Adjectives failing, I stood still
To see with what quick self-control
The little maid of six years old
Kept back the grief within her soul.







68 NORA'S FAN.

The little woman of the world
With self-possession would were mine
Lifts once again her eager eyes
Where quick repressed the bright tears shine.
Some sudden, swift look in my face
Had made the young heart realize
Mamma would say 'twas not polite
To question or to criticise,

(However hard the pain to bear
Of disappointed longing) aught
That in the wisdom of her choice
The stranger auntie might have brought.
And so with lips that quivered still
A little with their grief, we heard
The sweet voice say, I'm very glad
You've brought me one without a bird;

Because, you know, the little birds
Come off so easy." Nothing more
The darling could have said; for caught
Within my arms there at the door,
The smothering kisses stifled quite
All else the young lips might have said;
And kindled brighter still the cheek
O'er which the sweet pink flush had spread.

God give me strength, dear one, like yours,
So patiently to bear the loss
Of what was never won ; nor let
The curious world behold the cross.







NORA'S FAN. 69











To stand here at the door and see
The little birds fly east and west,
That once I thought perhaps would build
Within my heart their happy nest;

And with lips quivering, dear, like yours,
With silent pain, still only say,
"I'm glad they never flew towards me,
Because they might have flown away."
And yet, my darling, as I sit
Here in the deepening twilight shade,
Your flower-face pressed closed to mine,
Pink cheek so softly to mine laid,

I wonder if perhaps the years
In which my soul has older grown,
May not have taught me after all
A finer wisdom than your own.
Something of thoughtful words like these
My longing heart seems to recall:
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all."







70 NORA'S FAN.

And well I know (in spite of all
The wisdom you and I profess
That birdless fans are prettier far
For little maidens to possess)
Full well I know, and you, too, dear,
In spite of all we may have heard,
Next time I buy a fan for you,
'Twill surely be one with a bird

And so I doubt not God in heaven
Sends down to us a fleeting joy;
Even as a loving mother gives
The coveted though fragile toy.
"Bonzheur oblige toul comme noblesse ; "
Joy has its teaching, even like pain;
We take its sacred gifts, and pray
For strength to part with them again

O little birds, that at my gate
So fast and far fly east and west,
Come to me once and try to build
Within my heart your happy nest;
Sing for me once your joyous songs;
Even though to-morrow from my gate
You spread your wings and fly once more,
To leave my poor heart desolate
















































*1_














JUS SPEDD






IN THE SNO W. 73




IN THE SNOW.

AUNTIE isn't the snow just splen-
did?"
Splendid for you and me, Milly, with our
warm cloaks and thick boots and umbrella; but
there must be lots of poor people that dread to
see the snow come in winter."
Why, I thought it was only in summer that
there were any poor people, auntie ? We always
have all our fairs in the summer, to send the
poor little children into the country for a week,
and papa sends fifty dollars every summer to the
'Poor Children's Seaside Home.' I thought
that was all there was to do."
But don't you remember, Milly, that poor
woman and her sick children whom we saw one

7






74 L THE SNO TV.

"~d i ay last winter
on the steps of
d tthe church in
Franklin ave-
nue ?
"0, yes, auntie!
-: and how glad they
were when we
helped them and
&1- m.namma got them a
ood home. I had
irgotten all about
them and now it
is winter again, and
perhaps they are cold again."
No, I don't think they are cold again this
winter; for your mamma has not forgotten them.
But there must be lots of others just like them,
dreading to see the snow come, if we only knew






IN THE sNO W. 75
where they were and how we could best help
them."
But can't we find them, auntie, if we look
for them ? "
I dare say we could. At least, we ought
to try."
And, auntie, don't you think it would be a
nice plan whenever we felt particularly happy,
as we do to-day in the snow, to remember some-
body that don't like the very thing we do like
and try to make them like it ?"
A very nice plan, indeed. And then it
wouldn't be a bad plan, whenever you felt par-
ticularly unhappy, to do something to keep some-
body else from being as unhappy as you are."
But that would keep me pretty busy, auntie;
for you see I am always either happy or un-
happy, and so I should always have to be doing
something for somebody else."






76 IN THE SNOW.
"And wouldn't you like that ? I am sure
mamma must have told you about the verses
that John Brown taught to-all his children:

'Count that day lost whose low descending sun
Sees at thy hand no worthy action done.'"

Then this is a lost day, auntie; for I haven't
done a single thing to-day but have a good
time Isn't it awful? a whole day lost !"
Not wholly lost, Milly, if you have made up
your mind never to let another day pass without
helping somebody else to be happy. If you
have really done that, I think you may count to-
day as the real beginning, because I shall be the
one whom you have made happy to-night!"


4- _







INSIDE AND OUT. 77















INSIDE AND OUT.


Jimmy-from the outside :

I'm awfully sorry, poor birdies, for you;
Shut up all day in there, what can you do ?
Can't fly about, have to take what you get,-
Guess you don't like being somebody's pet?"







-_ ,. I .





"ob!







78 INSIDE AND OUT.


Ii I














Bird--from tMe inside :
"Now, it's not so bad, Jimmy, as you seem to think.
We've plenty to eat and plenty to drink,
Fine air, room enough, and to tell you quite true,
We're glad, Jimmy dear, to be kept safe from you I"
"r ' ,i I
3 I "I,~?.







,' i i,
Now, it's not so bad, Jimmy, as you seem to think.




'' ,. .. .. :
.! .' .. . .. .- '' e ' .. '.
,A. ,.;, drr ,. ., 1. 1 1 .
.t'
I.I ,'" -t. .. "




,, ~ ~ ~ I ,' ,, I
~~ ~ ....F'






AT BOARDING SCHOOL. 79








A'1 BO RDING
SCHOOL.

SI toN'T think the board-
ing school is quite--not
rude s,,ve -so niwce as I thought
it mwoutlld ba w\\hen I teased
I- apa t:o let me come. Of
i co-lse it's nice; I have a
good room, and I like the teachers; but some
of the boys are rude. My mamma objects very
much to rude boys, and I think if she knew how
rude some of these boys were, she would let
me-I mean, she would want me to-come






So AT BOARDING SCHOOL.
home. And, of course, if mamma thought it
best for me to go home, I would go. One of
the boys is better than the others; he has a
splendid collection of birds' eggs, and he said if
I would go with him to-morrow, when we have a
half holiday, he would show me where to get
some in the woods. I told him I would go;
but in the middle of the night I woke up and
remembered that mamma did not approve of
birds-egging. I thought perhaps she would not
mind if she knew I was going to make a real
collection, and if I were careful never to take
but one egg out of each nest; and I wished
awfully that she was there, so that I could ask
her. Any way, if I wasn't going, I thought I
ought to let Bob know, so that he wouldn't be
depending on it. So I spoke to him very low,
because I didn't want to disturb him any more
than I could help. But I couldn't wake him,






AT BOARDING SCHOOL. 8















so I just slipped out of bed and shook him a
little, just a very little, because he wouldn't wake
up without it ; and he was as cross as he could be,
and said, Why can't you let a fellow sleep ?"
I wanted to ask you, Rob," I said, as politely
as I could, "whether you thought my mother
would object to my getting a few birds' eggs, if
she knew it was for purposes of science ? "






82 A BOARDING SCHOOL.













And then he seemed to be madder than ever,
and just turned over and muttered, If you
wake me up again for purposes of science, I
guess you'll be sorry for it!"
[ thought that was awfully rude. I shan't go
with him now any way; for I am certain mamma
would not like me to be with such a rough boy.
Saturday morning.-Perhaps I shall go. It's
an awfully nice day, and Rob thinks my mother
wouldn't care.




























































.1 *. . ..






































UNTRIED WINGS.







BAB Y-HOOD. 85




BABY-HOOD.

DEAR bird of mine, with strong and untried wing,
Ignorant yet of restless fluttering,
How long will you be so content to sing


For me alone ? when will the world be stirred
By notes that even I have scarcely heard,
Since you are still only a mocking-bird ?


My little Clytie with the constant eyes
Turned to me ever, though the true sunrise
Burns far above me in God's holy skies,-


How can you know, my sweet unconscious one,
In the bright days for you but just begun,
That I am worthy to be held your sun ?


My little loyal worshiper, the bloom
Of whose fair face makes bright the midnight gloom,
Turned ever steadily to my near room,








86 BA B Y-H1O OD.
86 BABY-ABY-HOOD.OOD.



























Knowing so well, with instinct ine and true,
~, -- ,
-- ..









noing so well with instinct fine and true,,


Caring for naught but what that hides from view,-










How long, dear one, how many precious years,

Will this fair chamber where I hush your tears

Be the one Mecca for your hopes and fears ?























I ,-







'II,




; u '--
I , I "




-, .. .






.........
1 ; 11


-. -.,


TRYING HIIS WINGS.




































I




























qp







BAB Y-HOOD. 89

Not long, alas! not long; the mother heart
Knows well how quickly she will have to part
With all this wonder ;-she who tries each art

To lure him on; the first to coax and praise
Each added grace; then first in sore amaze
To mourn that he has lost his baby ways







." L ... -W"i- G'S.- A.L I'






.:
































*II
5- -A

.p-' :








- -IiM
HI






IN THIE LIBRARY Y. 91


'- 7 -- -...---- *- .-'-,. .-"_,"






; ,,.-' K- : T- .




: ~L LIBRARY.



My papa has a great big library, because he


times he lets me come in there, if he isn't very
busy and if I promise to keep very still; and
then he gives me a pencil and some paper and I
write a book, too; or else I take some colored
pencils or my paint box and try to make pretty





92 IN THEIR LIBRARY.

pictures. One afternoon
IC/ when I was in there with
him, he had to go out to
---- do an errand, and he said
-~ I might stay till he came
back if I would be very
good and not touch any thing but what was on
the floor. There were lots of books on the car-
pet in one corner, and I had a nice time with
them, building forts and trying to knock them
down with my little gun. And by and by a
great wind came in at the window and blew down
from the mantel-piece a picture without any
frame that papa had just put there. I was ever
so glad; for it was such a pretty picture, and I
knew I mustn't climb up on a
chair and get it; but papa had
said I might play with what
was on t e floor, and now the






IN THE LIBRARY. 93
picture was on the floor and I could have it.
But I thought it would be a great deal prettier
if it was painted; so I took and painted it with
my red pencil, and then I remembered that
mamma cuts out pictures from the magazines and
makes beautiful scrap-books with them; and I
thought I would make a scrap-book out of this
-picture. I hadn't any scissors,
.' and so I tried to tear it to make
*-"J it smaller, so it would fit into
A one of the books on the floor,
"':' and then I would paste it in.
But O dear! it tore right across
'iia. the middle of it! Then I was
-" frightened; I knew papa would
like to have the picture painted,
': .and I thought he would like to
S have it in a scrap-book; but I
/was afraid he wouldn't like to






94 IN THE LIBRARY.
have it torn. And Katy came in while I was
wondering about it, and she looked so sober that
I was terribly afraid papa wouldn't like it. Pretty
soon she said,
"I don't think papa will like it, Willie; but
perhaps I can make him like it."
And then she ran away up stairs to find papa.
She said he had come in again, but was writing
in mamma's room because it was cooler there.
I didn't want to go with her, and she said I
needn't; so I ran away to find sister Helen and
play and laugh a little while with her; because I
was beginning to be afraid I never should want
to laugh or play again after papa had seen what
I had done. And Helen did
laugh and play, and caught me
in her arms and kissed me, and .
all the time I was wondering :'I -..
what she would do if she knew.






IV THE LIBRARY. 95
?:. I wasn't really afraid of Helen, for
-,': women are different, and sometimes
N .N. it seems as if mamma kissed me
-.:- more than ever just after I have
been very naughty; but I wasn't
at all sure about papa.
That night, after they had put me to bed, I
heard papa telling mamma what Katy had done
to try and make him like it." He was writing
at mamma's table when Katy came and stood
very quietly beside him till he looked up and
asked her what she wanted; and then she said,
Papa, do you remember the story you told
me the other day about a little dog named Dia-
mond that got into his master's room when his
master was out and tore up a lot of valuable
papers that his master had spent many years in
writing; and that at first his master was very
angry and wanted to beat the little dog, till he






96 IV THE LIBRARY.

















KATY "INTERVIEWS PAPA.

remembered that he was only a dog and didn't
know at all what he had been doing, and so he
only said, '0 Diamond! Diamond! thou little
knowest the mischief thou hast done !'"
"Yes, I remember it, Katy, and I am glad
you remember it so well."
SIt was a beautiful story, wasn't it, papa ?


















































A PERFECTLY SPLENDID TIME.
















































































4






IN THE LIBRARY Y. 99
Yes, my dear, a beautiful story."
And that is just what you would do, papa,
wasn't it, if a little dog should tear up something
you thought a good deal of ?"
I should try to do so, Katy."
Well, then," said Katy with a triumphant
smile, now's your chance "
Papa said he was too astonished to do any
thing but follow her as she took his hand and
led him down into the library. I saw them as
they came out of mamma's room, and Katy
looked happy and papa not at all vexed, so that
Gracie and I took courage and followed on
behind. And Katy led him straight up to the
pile of books and the torn picture on the floor,
and said, almost as if she thought this was all
a very nice thing to happen, There, papa, you
see; the picture you liked best is torn in two,
and Willie was the little dog that did it. And






I00 I, THIE LIBRARY.
you mustn't beat him or scold him at all, you
know; you must just say, '0 Willie Willie!
thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done.' "
And if you will believe it, papa just threw his
head back and laughed! And then he sat down
in his chair and Katy and Gracie and I climbed
up on the arms, and we had a perfectly splendid
time together. But that night, just before I was
going to bed, papa took me up in his lap and


A ". ....

", .. { fn. ...,




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