• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 The story of bear hollow
 The story of bear hollow; or Mr....
 Old Don Henri and his little...
 Seraphina's courtship
 Seraphina's wedding
 Good-bye, sweetheart
 Songs of Popsey Manor
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: Popsey Manor
CITATION PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00055877/00001
 Material Information
Title: Popsey Manor
Alternate Title: Story of Popsey Manor
Olde Don Henri's sketches songs and ballads
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. ; 30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Cline, G. S ( Publisher )
Conkey, W. B ( Binder )
Manley, Myra ( Illustrator )
Meza, W. de ( Illustrator )
Denslow, J. L ( Illustrator )
Brundage, Mrs. ( Illustrator )
Sickles, C. E ( Illustrator )
Western Publishing House ( Publisher )
Knight & Leonard Co ( Printer )
Publisher: G.S. Cline
Western Publishing House
Place of Publication: Des Moines Iowa
Chicago
Manufacturer: Knight & Leonard Co., Printer ; W.B. Conkey, Bookbinder
Publication Date: 1888
 Subjects
Subject: Dolls -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Uncles -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Storytelling -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Wit and humor, Juvenile -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1888   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1888   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1888
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Iowa -- Des Moines
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
 Notes
General Note: Contains prose and verse.
General Note: "Illustrated by Myra Manley, W. de Meza, J.L. Denslow, Mrs. Brundage, and others under the supervision of C.E. Sickles"--t.p. verso.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00055877
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 - 002223579
notis - ALG3829
oclc - 70260332

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 3
    List of Illustrations
        Page 4
        Page 5
    The story of bear hollow
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
    The story of bear hollow; or Mr. Bruin Bear, Mrs. Mamma Bear and little master Beebe Bear
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
    Old Don Henri and his little sweetheart
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
    Seraphina's courtship
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Seraphina's wedding
        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
        Page 65
    Good-bye, sweetheart
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
    Songs of Popsey Manor
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Polly, Polly Popsey, O
            Page 74
            Page 75
            Page 76
        Polly's white rabbit
            Page 77
            Page 78
            Page 79
            Page 80
            Page 81
            Page 82
        Polly's red cheeks
            Page 83
            Page 84
            Page 85
        Polly's slumbers
            Page 86
            Page 87
            Page 88
        Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee
            Page 89
            Page 90
            Page 91
            Page 92
            Page 93
        Polly's joys to come
            Page 94
            Page 95
            Page 96
            Page 97
            Page 98
        Chick-a-ma-check-ma-tek-me-o
            Page 99
            Page 100
            Page 101
            Page 102
        The prodigal sun
            Page 103
            Page 104
            Page 105
            Page 106
        Polly's ride
            Page 107
            Page 108
        They all go marching on
            Page 109
            Page 110
            Page 111
            Page 112
            Page 113
            Page 114
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
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WLSILRN PUI/LIS", ING HOUSE, CHICAGO, ILL.
1888.
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COPYRIGHT, 1888,

WESTERN PUBLISHING HOUSE,

CHICAGO.


































ILLUSTRATED BY
.. MYRA MANLEY, W. DE MEZA,
KNIGHT & LEONARD CO., PRINTERS, J. L. DENSLOW, MRS. BRUNDAGE, W. B. MONKEY, BOOKBINDER
CHICAGO. AND OTHERS, CHICAGO.
UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF
C. E. SICKLES.































THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW,
OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.
:>3 SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.
SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.
GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART.
SONGS OF POPSEY MANOR.
POLLY, POLLY POPSEY, O.
POLLY'S WHITE RABBIT.
POLLY'S RED CHEEKS,
POLLY'S SLUMBERS.
HALLOW-MY-C H IN-KO-WEE.
POLLY'S JOYS TO COME.
CHICK-A-MA-CHECK-MA-TEK-ME-0.
THE PRODIGAL SUN,
POLLY'S RIDE.
THEY ALL GO MARCHING ON,

















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."' TITLE PAGE-Popsey Manor.


Popsey Manor.
Bear Hollow.
Mr. Grizzly Bear and Mr. Polar Bear.
Good-night scene at Popsey Manor.
SUB-TITLE-Old Don Henri.
Don Henri and Mistress Polly on the beach.
Max, the Wild Fire.
Grandam Mary and Polly Popsey, O.
SUB-TITLE-Seraphina's Courtship.
Doll Society at the seaside.
Brother Robert.
Seraphina and the Major.
The Duel between the Major and the Austrian Count.
SUB-TITLE-Seraphina's Wedding.
Seraphina on her couch.
Mrs. O'Grady.
Polly at Uncle Don's door.
The Doll Wedding.
The Prophet of Christian Science.
The Speaking Apparatus goes wrong.
The Wedding Cake.
Old Don Henri.
Old Don Henri and his Little Sweetheart.
SUB-TITLE-Songs of Popsey Manor.
Oh, little flames that flicker so."
SUB-TITLE-Polly's White Rabbit.
Just spread out your ears, and we 'll all take a sail."
Bunny, O, Bunny.
The Merry Maid and the Rabbits.
"The bobbiest Bunny the universe grows."




















LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

SUB-TITLE-Polly's Red Cheeks.
Come, pretty red apple."
SUB-TITLE-Polly's Slumbers.
Up within a curtained alcove."
SUB-TITLE Hallow-my-chin-ko-wee.
"Oh, come with me, says the bumble-bee."
Oh, come to my school, says the long-eared mule."
Oh, give me your hand, says the crab from the sand."
Oh, don't you know? says the mosquito."
SUB-TITLE Polly's joys to come.
Max and Dixey.
SUB-TITLE Chick-a-ma-check-ma-tek-me-O.
"Pussy, Pussy Peterkin."
Pussy, Pussy Chang-ke-mi."
"Pussy, Pussy Doolinow."
SUB-TITLE -The Prodigal Sun.
"The sun went out on a lark one night."
Time on the fly.
SUB-TITLE- Polly's Ride.
SUB-TITLE-They all go marching on.
"There is room on Bonney's back for another Polly still."
The pious Donatello, and the wicked Bardenello.
"Oh, you need n't blow your whistle."













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i)e tEorpy of be'p 2Hollow.





THE Misses Dorothy and Seraphina Popsey-O were most
charming and accomplished young ladies of the Doll
species. Miss Dorothy, the elder, was a pronounced brunette,
with glossy black hair, creamy cheeks, and great shining black
eyes, tall and dignified, and always dressed in the very latest
mode. She was able to roll her eyes in a most coquettish
manner; and the fact that they sometimes turned upward with
an "Oh, save me!" expression, when she meant to droop them
with a languid, dreamy air, did not seem to interfere with her
happiness in the least. She was free and graceful in her
movements-that is, of course, relatively speaking-for it
must be remembered that in the Land of Dolldom arms and
legs move on pivots and hinges, which, as a rule, are not as
flexible as joints and tendons. Her voice was pitched rather
high to be sure, and her manner of speech somewhat jerky-
if such an adjective can properly be applied to a being so
lovely and aristocratic as Miss Popsey-O; but it is a well
settled fact that the ladies of Dolldom have in some way
missed that crowning beauty of beautiful women-a sweet,
low voice. Some say that the air of Dolldom is too rare, others
claim that tight-lacing is responsible for the universal thinness

2














THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

of the doll voice. Certain it is that among the ladies of that
delectable country there are few voices of the mezzo tint, whilst
a genuine contralto is almost unknown. Miss Popsey-O was
blessed with a most equable and lovely disposition-the bitter-
est blasts of adversity and the world's rough handling barely
served to ruffle her drapery, leaving her calm spirit undis-
turbed. She was a curious mixture of shyness and abandon,
for while she never would consent to sing or enter into con-
versation, except upon strong pressure, yet in the mazy figures
of the waltz, under the softening influence of the music and
the intoxicating rhythm of the movement, she would rest back
upon the encircling arm in a sweet, confiding languor that
caused her to be much sought for as a partner.
Miss Seraphina was as fair as her sister was dark. Her
hair, which was beautifully long and thick, was worn in grace-
ful, flowing curls, and her deep blue eyes, with their soft
splendor, had caused many a sawdust heart to thrill and
quiver to its uttermost particles. Unfortunately, she was un-
blessed with speech, having been dumb from her earliest
years, her speaking apparatus having been left out by some
unaccountable oversight at the time of her entrance into life.
Nevertheless, her eyes spoke volumes, and the delightful way
in which she used her slender hands and daintily carved
fingers in making her wants known, went far to compensate
for this defect, whilst her repose of manner was thought by
many to rival that of her sister.
The home of the Misses Popsey-O was Popsey Manor, not
many miles up the coast from the great city of X-. Popsey
Manor! What a strikingly ancient and aristocratic sound it















THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

has How it stalks out from between the lips in a stately sort
of way, as if the tongue were quite pluming itself on its high-
born acquaintance. And, in fact, the old place had about it a
high and mighty atmosphere, as though it might refuse shelter
to anyone less exalted than a Prince or Duke or a Mr. President.
The manor house stood on the crown of a grassy knoll, the
foot of whose green incline broke down by a rocky bluff to the
wide level beach of the ocean. 'Well back to the rear of the
stables there was a low range of hills, out of which, still far-
ther back, rose the great solemn, cloud-capped mountains. The
immediate grounds about the house were shaded by a magnifi-
cent growth of elms and maples, winding in and out, through
which were graveled walks and drives leading out to the dis-
tant highway. Everything about the place was on a generous
scale, its broad acres having been secured when the values of
land ran with the surveyor's chain and were not fixed with the
aid of the microscope, and there were evidences of wealth
and luxury on every hand.
The house itself was scarce a monument of architectural
beauty, having gained additions here and there through
various stages of its existence, until it seemed to ramble on at
its own sweet will. But, oh! what a jolly glorious place to
live in, with its wealth of sunshine, its numberless shady
nooks and corners, its wide verandas and its blazing fireplaces!
Many generations of dolls had risen and passed away since the
property first was given by royal grant to Sir Leonidas Popsey-
0, for meritorious service in the State militia, Sir Leonidas
having bravely stood on guard one dark and stormy night at
the time of the great Rebellion in the Land of Packerdom.














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THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

The Manor at the time of which we write was owned by
Grandsire William Popsey-O, a hale six-footer, with a profile
like a dream in ivory, and a smile like the soft illumination
of an October day, with a heart as gentle and tender as his
body was big and strong, and with a soul all sunshine and
hospitality. Nothing ever went wrong with Grandsire Will-
iam-storms and trouble and disappointment passed him by-
so that the sunny old man, with his genial, hearty laugh, his
kind words and cordial hand grasp, was welcome everywhere.
He was passionately fond of books and pictures, and had
stocked his home until it seemed one vast book and picture
gallery. It was his delight to sit from twilight into dark be-
fore the great glowing fireplace, and with his little daughter,
Mistress Polly Popsey-O-mother of Misses Dorothy and Sera-
phina-on his knee, weave out of the pictured tiles, the fire-
light, and the shadows in the room, many a mystic fairy story
for his little Golden Hair. And whilst he talked, across the
library table would sit sweet old Grandam Mary, a dear little
lady, with soft, white wavy hair, a gentle voice, and with the
quiet, stately manners of the days of chivalry. There -was
one special story of which, though not a fairy tale, little Mis-
tress Polly was very fond indeed. Grandsire William had
told it her times without number, until she knew it every word
by heart, so that when he made a slip she would check him
with corrections, and yet she never tired of hearing it. As
nearly as is possible it is given here, with all of Mistress
Polly's interruptions and amendments:



















Story oF eap lJoIloio ;

OR

/rp. rrPir2 Bear, f2r. 2mamma Bear, and little /aLtep
(Be-e Bqar.


" ONCE upon a time-a many, many years ago-there was
Sa great forest, very long and wide, and very dense-- "
"Wat dens, papa? "
"Dense means, my little lady daughter, that the trees
grew very close together, and that there were hundreds and
thousands of them.
Well, as I was saying, the forest was very dense and
still and shadowy, and the ground was carpeted and covered
with the fallen leaves; and the birds sang in the tree tops, and
the little gray squirrels went hop-pi-ty-hop from limb to limb
and never fell down, and the woodpeckers bobbed their funny
red heads back and forth-"
To and fo, papa "
So it is, my child, so it is. How could papa have been
so forgetful ?
"-- bobbed their funny red heads to and fro-to and
fro; and at night, when everything was hushed and silent, the
great, solemn owls would go Hoot! hoot! hoot! Oh, it was a
very great forest, indeed, and in the very midst of it was the














THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

greatest tree of all, for it went up,and up,and up, until its top
almost touched the sky."
And 'ee 'tars, papa?"
Yes, sweetheart, the bright stars used to look at it and
sigh for its great, wide, leafy branches, rocking back and forth
in the breeze, just like my Polly's cradle, and the sleepy little
star children, when they had kept awake almost all night long,
and were very, very tired, used to think how nice it would be
if they could only lie down in that big, green cradle, and go to
sleep, and nobody find it out. And down near the ground the
great tree was as big round as-why as this room, Polly- "
"No, papa."
As the barn, Polly."
"No, papa."
"As-as-oh, yes, my beauty, papa remembers now-as
big round as a church- "
An' 'ee 'teeple, papa."
"Yes, dear, as big round as a church with a tall, tall
steeple. And there was a great round room inside, with a fine,
round front door, down near the ground, to come in and go out
by, and stairs- "
Winnow nex', papa."
Why, so it is. With a beautiful round knot hole for a
window, and stairs running up to the very tip top of the tree,
and the name of this elegant residence was Bear Hollow, and
it was considered the finest bit of bear property in the entire
forest.
Now in Bear Hollow there lived-who lived, Polly ?"
Mamma bear an' littlee beebe bear."












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THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

"That's right! That's right! Mamma bear and little
beebe bear lived in Bear Hollow. Mamma bear was round and
plump, with big brown eyes and long, soft, black hair, and
beebe bear was a chubby, stumpy little chap, with a black
nose "
An' 'ee 'tub tail, papa."
Yes, and with a funny, cocky, stub tail, that looked very
impudent, and he was a most mischievous little chap, and
would hide away up in the tops of the trees and pelt the solemn
old bears with pine cones; and when mamma bear went out to
call, he would get up on the pantry shelf and get his nose way
down in the honey jug-till poor mamma bear's patience would
be all worn out, and she would cuff him over the ears and say
he was a bad, bad cub and a disgrace to the family; and then
he'd prick himself in the side with his sharp claws so that the
tears would come, and the dear mamma bear would catch him
up quick in her arms and comfort him. Oh, but he was a sly
little Mr. Bruin bear, junior! But, alas! poor beebe bear was
an unfortunate little half-orphan-that is to all intents and
purposes-- "
"'Top papa-Polly not know 'at."
"Quite right, my little girl! that doesn't belong to the
story at all. What papa meant to say was that poor beebe
bear was not really and truly a half-orphan-because his papa
bear was not dead, only a prisoner-but that the dear mamma
bear and poor beebe bear felt just as bad as if he were truly
dead, and always just at sunset they would climb the stairs to
the very highest point of the tree and look everywhere- "
"To 'ee Norf, papa."


3














THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

"Certainly, my pretty one-they would look away to the
North, but there was no dear Bruin bear there, only the pity-
ing eye of the North Star looking down on them. And then
they would look off into the far South, but there was no Bruin
bear there, only the gentle South wind whispering comfort to
them. Then would they look into the dim East, but there was
no Bruin bear there, only the great sea, sighing and moaning
in sympathy with them. And last of all they would look so
eagerly away into the West, but there was no Bruin bear there,
only a golden regret for a day which, like poor Bruin bear, had
passed from them forever. Then they would turn sadly away,
and go down again to pretty Bear Hollow which dear, far-away
papa bear had always been so proud of, and little beebe bear
would cry and say,"
'Oh, mamma, mamma, when my papa tomin' bat?'
"Then mamma bear, with her eyes all misty and her poor
heart aching, would comfort him, and say she guessed papa
Bruin 'Come next day, to-morrow.' Then she would lay the
sleepy little beebe bear down on his soft bed of pine boughs
and autumn leaves, and sing him a sad, sweet cradle song-
"'Ugh! ugh! Che wack see wugh!
Hoolah, hoolah, hokah.
Beulah see! Luh tri-la-bee,
Coom la! Coom la! trokah!'
Then would he fall asleep and night begin her reign above
Bear Hollow."
"Now 'bout Mitter Bruin bear, papa."
Yes, indeed, my lady, it is high time we found out what
had happened to Mr. Bruin bear. Well, one day, early in the














THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

morning, after he had hugged his little beebe bear, kissed
mamma bear and told her to look sharp after Bear Hollow while
he was away, he started off for his day's work to get some food
for his dearly loved family. But as he went swinging along
--swaying along--all of a sudden, whoop! came a crowd of
men and dogs and captured poor Mr. Bruin bear, though he
fought very hard and bravely-and they carried him away to
a great city, and put him in a big red wagon with a high top
and wire slats running up and down, and took him from place
to place as part of a menagerie."
"No, papa-Polly not know 'nagery!"
"Excuse me, little daughter; the menagerie is the nice,
good part of the bad, wicked circus, where the real solemn
deacons go-only the naughty people like Old Uncle Don,
who has just come in yonder, ever go to the circus."
"Polly 'oves Untle Don nine-two hun'erd dolla."
"Papa begs a thousand pardons. If Old Don Henri is a
friend of our Lady Polly, he must surely be a regular saint,
wings, feathers, and all."
"Not dot fedders; dot muttach."
"Ha-ha-ha! so he has little one; so he has! ha-ha-ha!
-he's a jolly old saint with a white moustache and a red fez."
"Do on, papa-pease! "
Certainly, certainly, where were we ? "
"At 'ee witted cirtus, papa."
So we were, so we were, with the good deacon lambs in the
menagerie and the wicked Don-goats at the circus.
So poor Mr. Bruin bear was caged up, and couldn't get out,
though he tried many and many a time. And the weary days














THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

grew longer and longer, and his heart was sore and heavy
with longing for his sweet mamma bear with the lovely brown
eyes, and dear, dear -little beebe bear. Was there ever any-
where such a cunning, such a promising cub as his? And
should he ever see him again? Oh, the beautiful, beautiful forest
-how cool and shady and still it was! Would he ever roam
freely through its leafy bowers and drink of its fresh streams
again? Would he never, never come home to his own again?
And he chafed and fretted and swung swiftly from end to end,
from end to end, of his hateful, hateful cage, and growled and
raged and moaned and would not be comforted. And the chil-
dren came-
"An' Polly."
"Yes, dear, and Mistress Polly Popsey-O amongst them, and
looked at him and wondered at him, and some laughed and
threw things at him, thinking him cross and fierce and savage,
not knowing that it was his lonely heart breaking with despair
at the weary, weary waiting.
"And so the months and years ran on, and bye and bye
hard times came on Bear Hollow, and the good mamma bear, try
as she would, could not find enough food for her pretty beebe
bear. And the neighbors came and told her that poor dear
Mr. Bruin bear 'Alas, alas! how sad!' must certainly be long
dead ere this, and that for her beebe's sake she ought to look
about and choose some suitable companion for herself, competent
to support and manage such a strong and high-strung cub as
beebe bear was like to be. And Mr. Grizzly bear and Mr. Polar
bear came very often to call, for mamma bear was young and
handsome still, and Bear Hollow a most tempting spot. But the






















































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THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

faithful mamma bear refused to listen to them, for she loved her
Bruin very tenderly, but when poor beebe's eyes grew dull and
listless, and he cried and cried with hunger, when his ribs
showed plainly through his furry sides, in the silence of a
starlit summer night, there was a bear wedding and beebe bear
no longer was a poor half-orphan. Then life ran smoothly on
at Bear Hollow, and beebe bear was growing to be a great rol-
licking, happy-go-lucky boy bear, when one warm and sultry
day, just as the night was coming down, along the dusty road
there toiled a weak and weary bear, with watery eyes and mat-
ted hair, one leg wrapped in a soiled and bloody bandage, foot-
sore and forlorn. His eyes were blinded with the tears of
many, many years, so that he scarce could see the dear old
forest that he sought and had so longed for. Oh, if he might
but once more rest beneath the great fir tree where he had
played so long ago! If his worn feet might feel again the soft,
yielding touch of fallen leaves, if he might breathe one last full
breath of the sweet odors of the pine and spruce tree-then
would he gladly bid the world and all his troubles a long
good-bye.
"And now as he struggles painfully along, his stout heart
that has borne so much grows faint, his hope is almost gone
-until just as the darkness falls he sees the forest through
the shadows-he hears the eagles crying on the mountain"-
"An' 'ee owl, papa."
And the great owls, as they keep watch in the tree top,
calling Hoot! hoot! hoot! And his heart swells at the thought
of home. and his sweet mamma bear, and the dear, dear little
beebe bear. But-oh! how can I tell it little one-this crown-














THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

ing happiness was not to come to poor old Mr. Bruin bear. It
was so hard that he who had bravely borne the endless, weary
years in that awful cage, had fought desperately and toiled all
the long, long, dusty way, should find at last his beautiful
Bear Hollow, his mamma bear and beebe bear, another's. But
when from underneath the great pine tree down by the spring
he saw it all, his poor heart broke, and he crept silently away
in the darkness and laid himself down and sobbed and sobbed
his life away. Poor, poor old Bruin bear! "
Oh, papa, papa! "
"There, there, my little daughter, don't cry, don't cry, dear.
We all feel very sorry for poor Mr. Bruin bear; even Old Uncle
Don yonder has a tear in his eye, though he wouldn't have it
known for the world."
"Papa, was 'ee rug on 'ee flo' tooly Mitter Bruin bear? "
Yes, little one, and see what fine long hair he had."
And was 'ee rug in 'ee parlor Mittis Mamma bear? "
Yes, dear, and see what great brown eyes she had."
"And 'ee one in Untle Don's room littlee beebe bear, papa? "
So it was, and see what a funny stub tail he had."
"An' 'ee one in 'ee hall Mitter Grizzly bear? "
"Yes, indeed, sweetheart, and see what fine white teeth he
had."
"Where Mitter Polar bear, papa? "
Oh, Mr. Polar bear, he got away."

And so would end the story of Bear Hollow.














THE STORY OF BEAR HOLLOW.

Then Grandam Mary would tell them that the sand man
had come, and Polly must bid them all good night.
"Dood night, deah papa," the little voice would say; "Dood
night, Untle Don. Polly 'oves 'oo; not bad andel doat." And
Old Don would kiss her very tenderly, and shake his head and
say he was surely a very, very good man; that while Grand-
sire knew a very great deal about bears he was quite ignorant
about saints and angels. Then stepping to the centre of the
room, the graceful child would dip a dainty courtesy, bow low
to each and every one, and the gentlemen, like courtly
knights, would rise, bow low and reverently, and remain stand-
ing whilst she passed with Grandam Popsey-O, along the
winding stairs up to her cradle, to pleasant dreams and sleep.







S' I
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01ld$J)on Jenri anG h l2 kEl 11e ZweeL12eapl



DON HENRI DELANEY, "of the Delaneys of Delaney
Court, sir," was uncle of Mistress Polly Popsey-O, and
consequently great uncle of the Misses Dorothy and Sera-
phina, he being an older brother of Grandam Popsey-O. He
was a gay old duffer in knee breeches, patent leathers, and a
flaming red fez--with a snowy moustache and silvery hair.
He was tall and strong, and always wore his back very stiff
and straight, and declared he would never grow old if he
outlived Methuselah. He talked horse in hexameter and
petted his dogs in blank verse; in fact, he was always
dropping into poetry at unexpected times and places. This
weakness of the old Don's was a source of great grief to
his friends. Yet they were comforted by the thought that it
might have been worse. There was old General Juniper who
had a hair lip, and Colonel Fitzhugh who had gone daft over
perpetual motion. "Oh, yes, indeed, it might have been a
great deal worse, poor, dear old Don Henri!!!" But the old
fellow went his way, serenely unconscious of the deprecatory
die-away drop of the voice with which his productions were re-
ceived-placidly happy in the belief that there was an unfail-
ing source of the divine afflatus located in the region of his
diaphragm. In earlier years he had entered the navy, but not














OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.

relishing its inactive life in times of peace, had remained only
long enough to master its terms and phrases and to embellish
his speech with many of its spicy expletives, such as seldom
appear in print unless in masquerade of straight-cut dashes
and long, slender exclamation points. Later he had joined the
army and served some years successfully. He loved his
friends, but had not learned to love his enemies. He rever-
enced womanhood, and believed that were all men knightly and
noble then would all women be tender and womanly. A gen-
tleman, he thought, should hold himself too choice to do a
mean or dishonorable action. He was proud of Popsey Manor
and its occupants-especially of the Delaney branch of the
family, as represented by himself and Grandam Popsey-O.
His nature was a sunny one, and ordinarily he was happy as
the day was long. But, like Saul of Tarsus, there were hours
when his soul was darkened and he would grow strangely still
and silent-when he would dream dreams and see visions-
when there would sweep over his spirit a wild restlessness, a
savage longing for the boundless desert, as if there ran in his
veins the blood of some far-off Arab ancestor. At these times
he would shut himself up in his rooms alone, or steal away to
the sea and revel in its stormy restlessness, in the mighty roar
of its surf, or he would mount gray Bonney and go thundering
down the beach or over the fields and fences. And everyone
was very gentle with him then, and, while no word was ever
spoken, the dear old Grandsire would come and put his arm
about his neck and kiss him softly on the forehead, or little
Mistress Polly, who seemed to know, would climb into his
arms and say, "Polly 'oves Untie Don, more'n tun can tell."














OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.

It was a source of great unhappiness to him that no son
had ever graced Mistress Polly's large family of dolls, and
that as a consequence Popsey Manor must descend through
the female line (Miss Dorothy being the prospective heiress)
and the grand old name of Popsey-O eventually die out. He
was a pugnacious old chap, and stood ready to fight all Chris-
tendom, at a moment's notice, at any slight upon the Popsey
or the Delaney families, or in defense of his little sweetheart
Mistress Polly, to whom many of his songs were dedicated, and
who flattered his literary ambition by her rapt admiration of his
genius as an author. There were many things in common
between these two. They were a wilful pair, and thought
nobody's way was quite so good a way as was their own. They
loved alike the beautiful generous sunshine, the free open out-
door air, the fields and flowers, hills and mountains, and the
great, sad sea. Ah, many and many an hour they'd sit together
on the sandy beach, and watch the restless rolling waves come
in from their long journeys, one by one. And he would tell
her how this one perhaps had come from far Japan, or that one
with the pale green body and the foaming crest from sunny
Italy. And when their murmuring grew sad and mournful
he'd say the waves were homesick at being so far away from
their own native shores. And almost always, as they sat thus
together, it would chance that the dimpled fingers playing with
his own would touch some chord of memory, and the old fellow's
thoughts go rambling back through many, many years, and
into his eyes would come a dreamy, far-off look, and his soul
seem gone upon some errand to that misty, shadowy No-man's
Land, beyond the far horizon. And she-dear little heart-she




























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OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.

always seemed to understand, and would sit in silence at his
side until the old man was himself again.
But once when the dark hour was upon him and his soul
was seeing visions, and they had sat in silence for a longer
time than usual, she called to him softly:
"Untie Don !"
But he did not hear.
Pease, Untle Don !"
And when again he did not hear, the loving dimpled arms
crept round his neck and the baby lips stole under the snowy
moustache and brought his soul from far away.
"Where 'oo been at, Untle Don?"
Where have I been, my little one? Where have I been?
Been down the wind, sweetheart."
Wat for, Untie Don?"
"After a voice, dearie-a voice that comes out of the mist
way over the sea where the white clouds are."
"Polly not hear voits."
Hush, little one, hush-perhaps it is coming on yonder
breeze; keep perfectly still, sweetheart. Ah, yes! the beauti-
ful, beautiful voice, full of the laughing sunshine-merry and
bright and sweet and low-over the rolling waves it comes;
and oh! the love in it, little one-the wonderful love in it."
"Who voits, Untie? "
"The voice of the golden Long Ago, sweetheart, the radiant,
golden, Long Ago, when the heart was young and all the world
seemed bright and fresh and new-when the night was a song
and the day was a dream and the dream was love and love was
life and life was beautiful and sweet."














OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.

"Polly not heah any voits, Untie."
"Listen, little one! can you not hear them now-the
voices of the shadowy Past-the happy, merry voice of child-
hood, the ringing shout of youth ? And hark to the voice of
the great guns! The battle is on, and the mighty squadrons
go rushing down to death and glory. How the sabers clang
and the guns flash! And the voice of the lone night wind
moaning over the slain. And the gentle voices of friendship
and love and home and hope. Do you not hear them, little
one?"
"No, Untie, Polly not heah."
"Hark, sweetheart! they're going now-going, going back
over the waves to their home in the clouds and the Silvery
Mists."
Then the tender baby heart knew that the dark hour had
come-dimly discerned the wanderings of the old man's mind
-and the baby arms drew closer round his neck, the baby lips
sought out again the secrets of the snowy moustache, and the
baby voice, with the love in it-oh! the wonderful love in it-
said softly-
"Polly 'oves 'oo, Untle Don-deah, deah Untie Don!"
And he pressed her to his heart and held her there and
bowed his head, and dipped down, down, down into the beau-
tiful eyes which lay before him like two deep blue founts of
tenderness and love.
"God bless you, bless you, bless you, little one! God bless
you every day!"
And how they did love dogs and horses Always in their
rambles the Italian brothers, Donatello and Bardonello, would














OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.

accompany them. What dainty, graceful creatures these little
greyhounds were! Donatello was royal looking in his fawn-
colored coat with lighter shades upon the chest. He was an
affectionate, good-natured, rollicking hail-fellow-well-met, with
a genuine Sunday-school air and character. But Brother Bar-
donello, in his blue-gray coat with white pointing, was the
dearest, daintiest, wickedest little sinner that ever ran on four
legs. He'd deluge you with love, and steal your glove before
your hand had ceased caressing him. He'd rob the table of a
chicken wing, and in a second would be demurely blinking at
you from some sheltered corner where he had hidden his stolen
goods, with an injured, innocent expression, a sort of holy
resignation in his mien and manner, as if to say, 'Tis always
thus-the truly good are sure to be misjudged."
For little Mistress Polly and her uncle the stables were a
favorite haunting place. They'd stand before the stalls and
feed the horses sugar, call them by name and pet them, and
the Old Don would talk very learnedly to Mistress Polly about
their good points, and Polly would listen as if she understood
it all. She was a fearless mite, and stood ready at a moment's
notice to mount with him the wildest of them all. And this
would set the old man's heart aglow, he was so proud of her.
He loved her many times the more for her courage and the
plucky spirit with which she met life's bumps and tumbles.
Within the stable, first as you entered, stood Max the Wild-
fire, who, with Big Bonney, was the property and pride of the
Don himself; but which he most admired and prized he
scarcely knew. Max was rather tall, was young and wild,
very dark, with heavy, flowing mane and tail, with beautifully


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OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.

rounded body and the trimmest, most delicately turned legs
imaginable. He was the personification of grace-as coquet-
tish as a maiden, and wilful to a degree-refusing utterly to
be bridled by any one but his master. When under the saddle
he would go dancing all over the road-would fly over fences
and ditches as if it were the merest play, and would make his
fifteen miles an hour without flinching.
Next to Max in the stable stood Grandam Mary's Graflo
d'Oro. Grafno d'Oro was so named because his shining coat
seemed made of myriad yellow grains of gold. Next him stood
Grandsire William's beautiful Ouerida, and last came great
gray Bonney. Ah, what a sight it was, when all were
mounted and flying down the beach. The passers-by would
stop and watch them till they passed beyond the Point. Don
Henri mounted was in his glory. Queer in his dress as in
other things, when he sat his horse with waving plumes
and brilliant costume of long years ago, he seemed like a
full-blown cavalier, stepped out of an ancient century. His
horses were his friends, good comrades, and the sympathy
between them was quick and deep. They had learned to
know h:s moods, and in his happy moments they would go
gently dancing on; but when the dark hour was over him,
they would grow fierce and wild, burst into a mad gallop, and
rush on like a hurricane. He always led the way, with little
Mistress Polly held tightly on the saddle before him, her
brown hair tossing, bright eyes sparkling, her happy voice
ringing in merry laughter, or calling out "Det up Bonney."
And Big Bonney, with his fine neck arching, his ears sharp
set, the powerful haunches rising and falling, minding his














OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.

double burden no more than if it were a feather's weight,
would go plunging forward like a war-horse charging down
upon a battery. Grandam Mary, her petite figure, in its
dark, close-fitting habit, outlined like a silhouette, one silvery
lock of hair unloosed and floating backward like a flag of
truce, mounted as it almost seemed upon a flash of sun-
light, would press the Old Don mischievously, and hang
upon his quarter easily, in spite of all that he could do-for
Graifo d'Oro was the swiftest horse in forty counties, and
boasted a racing pedigree back to the Middle Ages-whilst
sauntering along far to the rear would come the gentle
Grandsire. He loved to stop and listen to the surf, and watch
its long waves break and die away, or loiter through the fra-
grant fields, so that oftentimes the leaders would double on
their track and ride back to meet him with many a jest at
his slow-going paces.
Grandam Mary used to say that early in the morning
two angels stood by Mistress Polly's bedside-a good angel
on the one side, a bad angel on the other; that if, when she
awoke, the little lady jumped from bed upon the good angel's
side, then everything would go smoothly during the day; but
if the bad angel won, then there would surely be trouble. The
good angel was almost always the fortunate one, but now and
then Mistress Polly would tumble out on the wrong side, and
then there was sure to be a disturbance in the camp. On one
of these unfortunate mornings Grandam Mary and the
mother of Dorothy and Seraphina sat in the library-mamma
at work, and Polly building up long streets with block-houses,
when the following scene occurred:





















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OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.

"Polly, my little daughter, please go to mamma's room
and bring her the work-basket."
No answer, and the block-houses continue to grow. Per-
haps Polly didn't hear.
"Will my little girl please bring the work-basket from
mamma's room?" repeats Grandam Mary in the same
gentle tone.
"No, Polly bizzy."
"But does my little lady daughter understand what
mamma says? She wishes you to go, dearie."
"Es, but Polly not do."
"But surely Polly will go when mamma says leasee"
"No, Polly too muts to do."
"Very well! Mamma is more sorry than she can tell, for
she loved her little daughter very dearly, and was very proud of
her, but this naughty little girl is not her Polly any longer."
Silence.-The block-houses have reached the second story
now, but work seems to be suspended-the rebellious impulses
led by the bad angel have struck against law and order, whilst
love and obedience, marshalled by the good angel, are combat-
ting the strike.
"Mamma!"
No answer.
"Pease, mamma!"
"This is not mamma's dear baby any more."
"O! mamma! mamma!" sobs out the tender heart. An
earthquake comes, and topples over the long row of half-finished
houses, and the little builder, with great tears in her eyes and
a great rush of love through her whole being, climbs into














OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.

mamma's lap, throws her arms about mamma's neck, and with
a piteous earnestness cries over and over again-
"Oh! I is 'oo baby, mamma. I is 'oo baby! Polly do det
wort battet."
Then there is a loving reconciliation, and the wilful little
soul, conquered by tenderness, glows with happiness again,
and the tiny, wilful feet run upon their errand with eager
obedience, whilst Don Henri, who has been watching the
scene from his favorite nook in the great bay-window, hurries
out to the verandah, and goes striding up and down, snuffing
and using his handkerchief with suspicious assiduity.
"Hello, Don, what's the trouble?" calls out Grandsire
William, from his great chair, with a mischievous twinkle in
his eye.
There is no answer here, also, except that the Don's pace
is quickened and the resort to the bandanna continues frequent
and vigorous.
"I say, old fellow, what's up?"
Oh, d-d-deuce take it all, there's nothing up, sir! Only
that child of yours is the sweetest, finest piece of humanity
ever lived, sir. She's got the tenderest heart and the loveliest
disposition in the world, sir! A temper like steel, and a spirit
all fire-yet soft as satin, sir! She's all Delaney, sir! Just
like me, sir! So is her mother--she's a Delaney, too, sir,
clear to the backbone, and what she doesn't know about rais-
ing children isn't worth knowing, sir! Rules 'em by love,
you see! A light hand on the bridle-rein, and never a touch
of whip or spur, and they come up fine as silk, sir thorough-
bred every time, sir! "















OLD DON HENRI AND HIS LITTLE SWEETHEART.

And off he goes to the stable, his head way up, and the big
words exploding harmlessly inside. Now, that was just like
the Old Don. Whenever he stormed around in this way, it
was a sure sign of a low barometer, and that there was an
area of dampness in the region of the eyelids. What more
natural than that when the overflowing tear ducts are dammed
up by the power of the will, the pent-up emotions seeking an
outlet elsewhere should burst out through the waste ways of
emphatic speech? Queer, cranky, tender-hearted, funny Old
Don Henri.




























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ksra pb3[n Iin8 eoupkbip.


y STRESS POLLY POPSEY-O

















SUCH were the contents of the little missive which threw the
e1ite of Dolldom into a flutter of excitement one bright
morning in May. It was printed from an engraved plate on
delicate sugar-loaf cards, was sealed with crimson wax, and
stamped with the great Popsey-O seal, and looked very aristo-
cratic indeed. And then it was not sent like a common letter
throh the ails but was deliver fimh t o by av
S UCH were the contents of the little missive which threw the
Selite of Dolldom into a flutter of excitement one bright
morning in May. It was printed from an engraved plate on
delicate sugar-loaf cards, was sealed with crimson wax, and
stamped with the great Popsey-0 seal, and looked very aristo-
cratic indeed. And then it was not sent like a common letter
through the mails, but was delivered from house to house by a














SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

servant in a very tall hat, with very short legs in boots with
white turn-over tops, which stuck straight out over the sides of
one of the bob-tailed carriage horses. A wedding in prospect!
How the romance, the poetry, and pathos of life centre round
the marriage ceremony! The approaching sound of wedding
bells wakes the old to youth again, and calls the young to
mirth and pleasure. What wonder, then, that the upper
circles of doll society were in a ferment over this announce-
ment The doll modistes and millinery arztises were put to
their wits' end to invent new styles and no two alike. There
were tucks, and gathers, and gores, flounces, bustles, and
trains; hats of leghorn, and bonnets of silk and satin. Oh,
what a hurrying time it was For nobody wished to be left;
nobody would willingly stay at home, for the hospitality of
Popsey Manor was a choice article, and Seraphina a general
favorite. Being voiceless, her tongue had never made her
enemies; in fact, this misfortune, backed by her beauty and
her charming manners, had brought her many sympathetic
friends. There was no pride of birth about her. Her finery
she wore with sweet unconsciousness, and she smiled alike on
all. She had reigned a belle for several seasons. The last
two summers she had spent at the seaside with her mother,
Mistress Polly, and her elder sister, Miss Popsey-O. To be
sure, the seaside was not far away, and the journey generally
was made in Mistress Polly's wheelbarrow, but as the Popsey-
Os set the styles in carriages as in all else, this modern one-
horse chaise became the rage, and on a sunny morning the
beach was thronged with them.
There had been many suitors for her hand, each new admirer
translating the mysterious language of her speaking eyes
















SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.



;,IT

















for ardent, unspoken love, and gathering in this way unwar-
ranted encouragement. Such was the unhappy fate of a
famous Austrian Count, a doll whose fierce moustachios and
gorgeous medals and decorations were wont to carry all before
them. He had presumed so greatly, that he was most inconti-
nently bounced from Popsey Manor by Old Don Henri.
Amongst her most devoted admirers had been a certain Herr
Philosopher from Germany, very wise and learned in meta-
physics and philosophy, but utterly ignorant as to the work-
ings of young maidens' hearts. He dressed in frightful taste,
appearing the year round in a bright, red worsted suit through-
out, and wearing his beard billy-goat fashion under his chin,
so that it was positive crucifixion for the young ladies to be
seen on the streets of Dolldom in his company. He was
absent-minded, too, and so failed to offer many a little courtesy
ranted~~~~~~~- -:-uaemn. Sc-;.-uhap ft o














SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

which would have helped him in his courting more than all his
metaphysics and philosophy. Poor old philosopher! He had
not learned that hearts of wax, like hearts of flesh and blood,
admire greatness in the abstract, but must be wooed and won
by a thousand little thoughtfulnesses.
Another of Miss Seraphina's suitors had been an English
Lord, positively stunning in the brilliancy of his equipment,
with the inevitable eye-glass plugged over the eye and roosting
on the bridge of the nose like a cock on a ridge-pole, and with an
absolute vacuum where the brains should be. His figure and
his joints were perfectly lovely, but Seraphina, with great
good sense, declined all his advances, declaring that to be with-
out brains was worse than to be without body-that fine
figures often disappear with high living, and that the best of
joints grow rusty in damp climates.
He who had loved her most, perhaps, was her own foster
brother Robert. Robert's history, so far as known, was quite
pathetic. In one of her many rides
with Old Don Henri, Mistress Polly
had spied him lying senseless by the
roadside, ragged, soiled, and with one
leg broken at the knee. The tender -
little heart would not rest satisfied until
he had been carried home with great
gentleness and care, washed and dressed,
and his poor leg bandaged and a crutch
provided. When cleansed, his face was --
very winning, though his complexion,
originally fair, had grown somewhat
soiled and dingy from exposure, and possibly from fre-















SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

quent handling by hands not of the cleanest, for it was
strongly suspected that he first saw life on Poverty Plains.
His eyes were large and round, and his quiet, unobtrusive
ways soon won for him a very warm spot in the little mother's
heart. He was very speedily adopted formally, and duly
installed as a member of the doll family. It was impossible
that any one should live long in daily intercourse with Sera-
phina and not learn to love her, and soon the round brown
eyes had come to rest upon her face with a yearning, wistful
expression which was very touching. As he was wholly
unable to control these amorous glances, or select his times
and places, his infatuation had been quickly observed and re-
marked on in the family. Mistress Polly, out of pure tenderness
of heart, and because she could not bear to see him suffer, would
have allowed his suit, but the Old Don strongly opposed the
match as unsuitable, and sure to produce unhappiness. Mat-
ters had been in this unsettled state when a new hero ap-
peared, and everything was changed.

Yes, Seraphina's fate had overtaken her at last. It came
in the person of a handsome Major of Hussars in the Dolldom
army. He was a tall, elegant fellow, with a bold mustache of
genuine yellow horse hair, and was positively radiant in the
gorgeous Dolldom uniform. He was the eldest son of the
Beverleys of Deephaven, and heir to the Deephaven estates.
The Major and Seraphina had known each other in earlier
years, but not until after a long absence and his return with
military honors was there evidence of anything more than
ordinary friendship. But how should Seraphina stand before
the conqueror of the bloody field of Boldebaldo-how resist
the onset of the fiery glances of those blue-green eyes, or note













SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

the tapering roundness of those elegantly turned legs of bass-
wood, catch the glistening of the great brass buttons or lift
the ponderous tin sword, without a melting tenderness in her
waxen heart, dangerous alike to her peace of mind and to the
integrity of her composition! It soon became apparent that
her young affections were marching with the Dolldom army,
and her young pulses keeping time to the inspiriting strains
of its martial music. She at-
tended faithfully the public
guard-mounts and dress par-
,J: ades, and her patriotic enthu-
.~ siasm would crowd the little
S4 heart well-nigh to bursting as
'I I she beheld the Major on his
S1!'1 great white horse with its flow-
ing five-dollar mane and tail
come galloping down the lines
to the sound of the fife and
drum. Whenever the enchant-
ing strains of Strauss tempted
the nimble feet to motion, it was in the magic circle of the
Major's most puissant arm that Seraphina's delicious languor
and repose of manner were oftenest wont to put forth their
conquering witchery.
It is one of the misfortunes of Dolldom that its love-making
should, of necessity, be a matter of some publicity. Love's
untried flowery paths lose half their charm when explored
under guidance of a chaperone. Love's music sung in chorus
could never touch a loving soul to ecstasy. But Love's sweet
duet was not for Seraphina and her lover. They never met,















SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

save in the presence of their two mammas. Strange, that so
brave and manly a doll as the Major would consent to be tied
to his mother's apron string? What slaves doth custom make
of us! And so it happened that all at Popsey Manor and
Deephaven had known from the first whither away the wind was
blowing, and rejoiced heartily over the pleasing prospect. All,
save poor brother Robert. His heart was well-nigh broken,
yet he made no moan-he shed no tear-but into the brown
eyes there came a fixed and stony stare, which told of a grief
too great for utterance.
After the Major's attentions to Seraphina had been running
on for some time without result, the Old Don determined to
bring matters to a crisis and have the affair settled once for all.
So it happened that one bright afternoon when they were all
idling away the time at the beach Mistress Polly, Seraphina,
the Don, the Major, and his mother, charming little Madame
DeBeverley, who was Mistress Polly's closest friend and of
about her own age the Don, who was always extremely
polite and gallant in the presence of ladies, opened the subject
by saying:
"I have observed, my dear Madame DeBeverley- as doubt-
less have you-that your noble son, the Major, has for some
time been offering marked attentions to the lovely daughter of
our house, Miss Seraphina Popsey-O. You are aware, I doubt
not, that the Popsey-Os are a very ancient and honorable
family."
"Ess, an' my fambly berry ole, too! interrupted Madame
DeBeverley. "My danpa, he awful ole, mos' as ole as 'oo is,
Untle Don!"
That is quite satisfactory, my dear Madame. We will

7














SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

not press that point further. But as I was saying, the Popsey-
Os being ancient and landed gentry are naturally desirous
that the daughters of the house should be married to families of
pedigree and prominence. It has been with pleasure, there-
fore, that I have marked the Major's growing devotion to Miss
Seraphina. But do you know, dear Madame-pardon me if
I seem inquisitive-whether the Major's purpose is a serious
one?"
"Top, Untle Don, us not know 'at," interrupted Mistress
Popsey-O.
"Uncle Don begs a thousand pardons, little one. What he
wished to ask was whether the Major really and truly desires
to marry Seraphina."
"Oh, Untle Don, 'at wouldd be jus' 'plendid," responded
Madame DeBeverley.
"Ah, thanks, dear Madame, for your highly complimentary
assurance, but I trust you will not deem it an impertinence if
I ask if you know the state of the Major's feelings in the
matter."
"Ess, he feel firs' rate."
"Certainly, certainly, Madame. A doll of the Major's
figure and ancient blood could hardly be otherwise than in
good spirits; but pardon me, most gracious lady, does he-
does he love Seraphina?"
"I tink Sephina jus' booful. I dess Major 'ove her, too."
"Thanks! thanks! dear Madame; this cordial and earnest
assurance rejoices my soul. How sweet the thought! Two
hearts that beat as one-a happy present and a rosy future.
All this being true, it would seem to me, dear lady, that there















SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

should be an immediate and formal proposal of marriage and
betrothal. Do you not think so, Madame?"
"Ess," interrupted Mistress Popsey-O, "us allays tink jus'
lite Untie Don."
"Ah, thank you, sweetheart; what a wise little woman it is!
Now, there are two methods of procedure in cases of this
kind-the oral method and that by letter."
"Pease, Untie Don, don' 'oo talk so high."
"Surely, surely, my little one, you will excuse the Old
Don for a moment. These are exalted matters and require
lofty handling. The oral methods having certain little-well,
we will call them perquisites, advantages-in the way
of gentle pressures of the hand, etc., etc., all of which,
I doubt not, my dear ladies, you will come to understand in
due time, I suggest that we proceed in that way. Now,
Seraphina should be seated with her hands folded esthet-
ically."
"Wat sthetcly, Untie Don? 'Oo talk so big, us not know.
Is 'at 'ight?"
"Quite right, quite right, little one. Her eyes should be
searching the sky for cobwebs, with a sad, far-away look in
them, as the lady in the case is always supposed to have no
idea of what is coming-a supposition, my dear Madame,
usually contrary to fact."
"Is 'at 'ight, Untie Don?"
"I think I would not have quite so much of the white of
the eyeball show. It gives a sort of cock-eyed expression-I
beg a thousand pardons for the word, dear Madame; I should
have said it detracts somewhat from the dignity and grace of
her appearance."














SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

"Pease, Untie Don, talk littlee 'ords."
"Excuse Uncle, dearie, it is so hard to be plain and simple
on such an inspiring subject. That's capital! Seraphina
looks now exactly as the books say she should. It is perfectly
plain she has no idea of what is going to happen. Now, then,
the Major must kneel down in the sand before her."
"Oh, Untle Don, 'ee Mazor 'ee tan't kneel down; 'ee knees
not made 'ight."
"Dear Madame DeBeverley, you don't mean it. Cannot
kneel to Seraphina? Bless me, that's bad, very bad! The
books all say it must be done, and we must proceed properly
and in order. Were I alone interested, I should be in favor of
letting this part of the ceremony pass; for to be frank with
you, dear Madame, the proper kneeling joints seem to have
been left out of my knees also. In fact, I have always
observed that stiff backs and stiff knees seem to go together."
"Oh, Untle Don, 'tan't 'ee Mazor mahy Sephina any
mo'?"
"I hardly think this trouble should prevent their marriage;
but we must abandon the oral method and go on by letter."
"'Ess, Untie Don."
"Would the charming Madame DeBeverley wish me to
prepare for the Major such a letter of proposal as would be
considered proper in our best society?"
"I 'dess so."
"It shall be done, and I suggest that it be sent to the
Manor House at once, so that when duly answered, immediate
steps may be taken for the wedding."
"Oh, Untle Don, 'tan us have a weddin'?"
"Certainly, sweetheart."















SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

"A weally and tuly weddin', Untie?"
"To be sure, to be sure, my little one!"
"And tan I wear my pint stotins and 'ow soes?"
"Permit me to assure you, dear Madame De Beverley, that,
in my opinion, nothing so clearly marks the high-bred woman
as pink stockings and low shoes."
"An' tan us have tate, Untie?"
"Surely, sweetheart, all the cake you wish."
"An' ite team?"
"Certainly."
"Lots ite team, Untie?"
"Of course, of course! Ice cream, and lots of it! We'll
bring down the North Pole and freeze a barrel of cream round
it, if you wish, my beauty. And now, dear Madame, that all
is so pleasantly arranged, allow me to extend to you my most
distinguished consideration and to hope for your continued
health. Good day, Madame; good day, Major. Ah! just a
word more. I suppose it will be understood that until the
wedding, the Major and Seraphina will meet only in the pres-
ence of the family or of a chaperon. We, of the best society,
dear Madame, must be careful of the proprieties. Once more
good day, dear lady."
And so there came to Popsey Manor a dainty looking
letter, addressed to Seraphina, which, being read for her in
family council--as is the doll custom-and duly answered,
settled matters once for all, and sealed Seraphina's future.
The letter ran as follows:
Dearest Serapina:
I can no longer delay telling you that which has so often trembled upon
my lips-that which I feel sure my eyes have betrayed to you again and
yet again. It is that I love you-love you, Seraphina. The silence of my














SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

lips would have been broken long ago, but my voice has utterly failed me
in your sweet presence. Ah, dearest, many a time would I have knelt
and poured my soul out at your feet, but the boon I ask has seemed so
infinite that fear has ever paralyzed my heart and joints. And now, as
I write, that heart is hushed with the boundless hope that thrills my being.
Dearest Scraphina, 0 my beautiful love, will you not listen to my suit ?
Will not the roses deepen in your fair checks as you read my words ?
Will not your voiceless tongue break its long silence-sweeter though that
silence be than all the music of Dolldom-to say to me "Dear heart, I
will be yours?" All the honors of my life, all the glories of the bloody
field of Boldebaldo will seem as nothing if, darling, I may press you to
my heart and know that you are mine forever. Ah, dearest, dearest, cani
it-shall it be ? The hours will run to centuries, the moments grow to
ages, until I hear from you, sweetheart.
Yours devotedly,
Deephaven Court, April 5, 188- HORA CE D E BEVERLEY.

Don Henri was at once accused of having had a hand in
the composition of this letter, but when he burst forth in strong
commendation of its beauty, his great modesty being known
in the household, the accusation was withdrawn, and he was
called upon, as great god-father to Seraphina, to prepare a
reply. Retiring to his sanctum, he soon produced such an
answer as met the universal approval, which, having been for-
warded by courier, the betrothal was considered consummated.
But love must sometimes tread a thorny road in Dolldom
as elsewhere. When the betrothal was announced, the dis-
carded Austrian swore a terrible doll oath to be revenged on
Popsey Manor for slighting him so inconsiderately. Watch-
ing his opportunity, he grievously insulted the Major, and,
being promptly knocked down for his insolence, sent him a
challenge to mortal combat. The Major placed the affair in
the hands of his next friend, Don Henri, who arranged every-
thing in strict accordance with the laws of doll honor, and















SERAPHINA'S COURTSHIP.

early one morning in May the feud was gallantly fought out
with the deadly duelling swords of Dolldom. The battle was
long and bloody. By a swift counter in high tierce the Major
carried away a large slice of
the Austrian's nose, and the left
wing of his magnificent mous- '
tache, which, being of imported
dongora wool and difficult to ob- i' '
tain, was a most grievous loss,
and thus filled the Count with rage and mortification. He
redoubled the fierceness of his assault, and, lunging here,
there and everywhere, kept the Major's sword flying in defense.
Finally, by a quick thrust in low quarter, he pierced the
Major's left knee, the Major parrying tardily, his elbow pivot
not having been thoroughly greased before the encounter.
This ended the affair. Both men were borne from the field on
stretchers-our wounded hero to the Manor House, where he
was most tenderly nursed by all the ladies of the place;
wounds gained on the field of honor in the service of love are
so romantic. Poor Seraphina was all devotion. She would sit
for hours, motionless, beside the Major's couch and gaze
lovingly and anxiously upon his noble form brought thus so
low, and long to set him on his pins again-those graceful
pins of basswood. But careful nursing, with an abundance of
well-timed flattery, a sure cure for most masculine ailments,
soon brought the Major round to complete recovery, as was
supposed, but mistakenly so, as will appear in the sequel.
And so it came about, as has been said, that on a bright
May morning a wedding invitation from Popsey Manor had
thrown all Dolldom into a flutter of excitement.







































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,i ^ t I ii






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8






















.epKy8ina Weedmo?.



EVER a lovelier day than June 5, 188-, rose
over Popsey Manor. Mistress Polly was up
with the first breath of day, and the patter-
patter of her little feet along the halls was
i, .,",, '' .: pleasant music to the waking household. She
was busy, very busy, with the thousand and
one last things which always claim attention
i at times of such momentous import. The
Sil responsibility and dignity of being mother to
a marriageable daughter bore heavily upon the
little lady. Motherhood had awakened early in her heart, and
she brooded over her doll family with an eager earnestness, a
tender solicitude, which was very real and very beautiful. And
this was Seraphina's wedding day. How the fond young matron
planned and hoped, grew anxious and, with each new anxiety,
grew fonder than before. She had determined that not only
should every one of the fourteen children in the doll family
attend the wedding, but all the inhabitants of Noah's Ark also.
There was no end of trouble in getting every one ready.
Johnny Crapeau had lost one of his eyes, and a glass agate,
crinkled all over with red and blue rings, had to be substituted,














SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

and made him look peculiarly Frenchy and fiery. It was impos-
sible to find a collar long enough for Mr. Kangaroo's neck, so
that an inch of the bronchial tubes was removed and the head
made acquainted with the shoulders. Poor Mrs. Elephant
had lost her trunk and positively hadn't a thing to wear. And
a bitter quarrel arose between Arabella, a younger sister of
Seraphina's, and young Ostrich, who lived in the Rue d'Ois-
seau, East End, Noah's Ark, as to whether Miss Arabella, by
reason of her relation to the bride, should be allowed to
appropriate certain beautiful feathers belonging to young
Ostrich, who was a lively bird, by the way, and fond of fine
clothes, or whether he should wear them in the tail of his
dress-coat as at the Army and Navy reception. But amid all
this hurry and excitement, Seraphina remained placid and
serene. Whilst Grandam Mary offered up petitions to the
good old Irish Saint Cecilia who presided over the savory
regions of the kitchen, for a bountiful supply of table dainties;
whilst Dame Polly's maids of honor, the demoiselles Nanine
and Maggie May, were hurrying here and there on most
mysterious errands, or plied their skilful fingers about some
delicate bit of bridal linen; and whilst Mistress Polly herself
was anxiously arranging and re-
arranging the coming order of
-. -1_..'i exercises-Seraphina lay in un-
disturbed serenity upon her couch,
-- and smiled the same unchanged,
/ ," unruffled smile which she had worn
when she had first come to Popsey
Manor. During the morning many pleasant messages arrived-















SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

congratulations from neighboring doll families, acceptance and
some regrets. Among the latter was one from Mrs. O'Grady,
who, for many years, had cleansed the family linen. She
could hardly be classed amongst the aristocracy, and, in fact,
had received her invitation after some
discussion, at Grandsire William's ear-
nest request, this gentle, kindly soul --
having urged that wouldd make the old
woman happy, and do no one any harm.
This regret was decidedly original,
and the O'Grady style picturesque and "
pointed. The note was as follows: '"
Mistzress Patlhrzck OGrady presents her complyminis 1o Mis-
thress Pollcy Popsey-O, that she is a most beeutifzt laady, wz'd
twzo mozghty foine dakiers and a fine fay/her and mntzher, and a
fine uncle, barring that he goes a bzi cracked and daft loike now
and agnzz, and regrets her great inabilyty to accitz her kind
invozie to the wizddzn' by raison that her mon Pat lost the tail of
hzs dress shute in a bzt of a shindy zz'd dem Hooligan byes, but
she kindly begs to requisl that Misthress Popsey-O-Heaven
bless her purty face !-will put by jist a snack o' the caake and
the condy-minzs, an' she'll river be yours to command. Most
Irooly and obaajiently. The tzI o' the morning' to yees.
The O'Grady Cabin, June the foorth.
For several days, during which the wedding preparations
had been going forward, Old Don Henri, contrary to his usual
custom, had withdrawn into the seclusion of his own quarters,
and spent much of his time alone. Strange, muffled sounds
were heard through the. tightly-closed doors, seeming some-














SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

times like the filing of metals, interrupted now and then by
sharp, hammering blows. The family grew worried and
troubled, fearing that the dark hour was over him with deeper
shadows than usual; but the old fellow was non-committal, and
finally, the night before the wedding day, stole softly down to
the nursery, kidnapped Seraphina, and carried her away to his
den.
It seems that it had always been a source of grief and mor-
tification to him that any imperfection should be associated
with the family. He had brooded long over Seraphina's unfor-
tunate lack of voice, and had finally conceived the idea of per-
fecting and secretly introducing into her anatomy a speaking
apparatus, which should be first put in operation during the
wedding ceremony as a delightful surprise for all concerned.
And so he went to work, and as he worked he'd chuckle to
S himself, as he pictured out the
wonder, amazement, and happiness
which the sound of living words
from Seraphina's lips would pro-
duce. And he talked with himself
about the matter, as was his cus-
Stom; and so the work went on,
hammer and talk, and chisel and
laugh.
/ Bang! bang!! "That's for
\\ -i Grandsire William, Heaven bless
him, dear old boy! The gentlest
\ soul that ever lived but it's lucky
the Old Don has an eye to things, or he'd give the place















SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

away. How pleased he'll be because 'twill please the little one
SO."
Rap! rap!! And that's for Grandam Mary-Ma belle
Mary-the sweet, sweet sister. What happy years we've
passed together, and a Delaney, too, every inch of her."
Zzi! zip!! "And that-oh! that's for Her Royal Highness,
Lady Polly. How her eyes will shine, and how she'll come
and put her arms about my neck, and kiss me, and say, 'Polly
'oves Untle Don.' Well, I'm blest if that isn't a tear! Oh!
d-d-d...Tut! tut! Stick to your work, old man, and don't be
a marine!"
And so the work went on with many a bang and clatter,
with many a loving thought and merry, self-complacent laugh,
until, becoming interested, the old fellow added attachments by
which to control the arms and legs, so that all of Seraphina's
movements might be perfectly timed and graceful. This
speaking apparatus was a complicated mass of wheels and cogs
and wires, and was set in motion by an electric button hidden
in the palm of the hand. When all was ready, it being part
of his plan to surprise Seraphina most of all with this price-
less wedding gift, a little vial was opened, a strange odor filled
the room, and Seraphina fell into a heavy sleep. When she
awoke, the voice, with its attendant wheels and cogs, was in its
place, and all traces of the operation removed. Seraphina felt
a strange fullness underneath her bodice, but thought that
young dolls on their wedding eve always felt so, and thought
no more about it.
The long, bright day, at length, verged towards its close.
The shadows were lengthening and deepening on the moun-














SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

tains, and away out over the sea one solitary star was glim-
mering faintly; the very last things had been done-the bride
was dressed and the feast prepared. The guests began arriv-
ing early, and soon the great parlors were thronged with bril-
liantly dressed dolls, with their doting mammas and other
relatives. It was frequently remarked that so young and fresh
a looking company of mothers was seldom seen together; but
it is a fact worth noting in connection with doll ethics, that the
larger the family, the happier and prouder the mother seems
to be, and that each new arrival adds freshness and beauty to
her cheek and brightness to her eye. At seven o'clock pre-
cisely, the great bell on the stable and all the little bells
within the Manor House pealed forth a merry chorus. As the
last stroke died away, the strains of the wedding march burst
forth from the organ in the music room, where the ceremony
was to be held, and where the guests were already waiting in
eager expectancy. They had not long to wait, for soon the
wedding party drew up at the Cathedral entrance (by which is
meant the great doors leading from the hall into the music
room), and began its progress down the main aisle. Seraphina
in a flowing white robe, with a train six inches long by actual
measurement, and with a really and truly bridal veil, looked
perfectly lovely. She bore herself proudly, as became one in
whose veins ran the noble Jumeau blood. She passed in upon
the arm of her great godfather, Don Henri, who, notwithstand-
ing the pressure of his great secret, held himself as rigidly
erect as ever. After them came the Major-looking, oh, so
handsome in his gorgeous uniform of red velvet with the
shining brass buttons, and the terrible tin sword freshly















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SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

burnished, and the yellow moustache rolling up at the ends like
an old-fashioned skate. He escorted the mother of the bride,
dear little Mistress Polly, who actually looked lovelier than
her charming daughter, if such a thing were possible. Then
came the long train of bridesmaids and groomsmen-amongst
them Miss Dorothy, the heiress of Popsey Manor, leaning on
the arm of the English Lord, and Miss DeBeverley, with the
Herr Philosopher in a bran new suit of black, presented him
by "his many admiring friends," ostensibly as a mark of
esteem for his great learning, but really because they couldn't
bear to see so learned a doll make such a guy of himself.
Next came the family from Noah's Ark. There was an audible
ripple of laughter as poor Mrs. Elephant passed down the
aisle. Her dress was decolette-so much so as to shock some
of the more conservative of the guests. Poor old lady! Her
trunk being lost, she was compelled to borrow, and only suc-
ceeded at the last moment in securing little Miss Gazelle's last
year's party dress.
Grandam Mary played the wedding march with great spirit
and feeling. The deep bay-window where the ceremony was
to take place, was like an enchanted bower, with its profuse
decoration of flowers, and all was moving smoothly, when, of
a sudden, without a moment's warning, the Major's game leg
went stiff, and after one or two limping attempts to go forward,
a look of despair passed over his face, and the foot and foreleg,
parting at the knee, fell forward on the floor. Unfortunate
Major DeBeverley! The Austrian's sword had bitten deeper
than he knew. At once all was confusion! The stricken
groom was laid tenderly upon a chair, and the stream of yellow















SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

sawdust, with which his life was running swiftly away, was
staunched as speedily as possible. Seraphina proved herself a
heroine. She neither screamed nor fainted, nor did her calm
serenity desert her for a moment. Not by a shade did the
rich pink of her cheeks grow paler. Not that she was heart-
less, but those blushes were worked in with her composition,
and warranted to stay. Sympathy with the unfortunate couple
was deep and universal, and bitter words were spoken of the
vengeful Count.
After a hurried consultation it was thought best to an-
nounce a postponement, though this was in opposition to the
faintly expressed wishes of the Major, who desired that the
ceremony should proceed, according to the newly discovered hit-
or-miss method, by proxy. While this suggestion was being
considered, one of the guests, a celebrated doll apostle of the
missionary sect of Christian Science came forward, and offered
to cure the Major on the spot, "Sans ceremoniz'e e sans grano
sal's"--provided her fees were properly secured her, it being
explained that though the Science was purely benevolent in its
aims and character, the healing afflatus was by nature quies-
cent, and could only be waked to life by the touch of the
almighty dollar. Love hesitates at nothing. Very quickly a
joint mortgage on Popsey Manor and Deephaven Court was
drawn up and executed. TheMajor was held erect by loving
hands. The great apostle, seated where a bird's-eye view of
his back could be obtained, fell into a comatic state, and with a
heliometric glance perforated the junction of the coat tails
with the small of the back. It was a solemn, fateful moment.
The silence was profound-the back motionless; the apostle's














SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

glance fixed and unwavering and the heal-
.. ing balm simmering in her soul. Soon
there was visible in the detached foreleg
and foot a slight twitching, which gradu-
ally grew more vigorous. Then, to the
wonder and astonishment of all beholders,
it began to move slowly, creeping toward
the Major, and ere long, to the unbounded
S joy and delight of every one, the severed
V parts were reunited, and the Major once
more stood erect in the full glory of vigorous dollhood. Not
a trace of the terrible trouble remained, except that a small
hole had been burned in the cloth of the coat where the
healing glance struck. The bridal party was quickly re-
arranged, the wedding march resumed, and the bride and
groom presented themselves before Grandsire William, who,
in a long black domino and a student's three-cornered cap,
made a very handsome and imposing dominie, pro tempore.
Don Henri, who had instructed the Major that it was con-
sidered the proper thing to press the bride's hand softly at
a certain point in the ceremony, waited with fond anticipations
and with some slight anxiety for the grand surprise.
Well, the critical moment came--the fateful button was
touched, when w/hzv-z-z! burrh/-rk-rh! bang-g-g/ there was the
most horrible racket in Seraphina's insides imaginable-some-
thing like a set-to between a buzz-saw and a trip-hammer; her
arms began to gyrate in the craziest way, and one little hand
toppled the Major over without ceremony. The tiny, aristo-
cratic feet kicked out in a most shocking manner, and an















SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

exposure of dainty petticoats and white edging followed, which
was most embarrassing and dreadfully mortifying to the entire
family, and to Seraphina most of all, who was wholly unable
to control these pedal eccentricities, and was frightened quite.
out of her usual calm serenity; but, as Don Henri suggested,
it was a comfort to know that the hosiery was choice and the
drapery delicate and stylish. Yet
the guests were whispering and
tittering and oh-my-ing and did-
you-ever-ing, so that something .'
must be done at once. Some -- '
one having jestingly remarked ..
that Seraphina must be pos-'. '.'
sessed of a devil, the Old Don \
caught it as a forlorn hope for -.i. \
getting out of the scrape, and. '
insisted that such was surely /
the case, and that Seraphina's -,.
excitement was quite natural
under the circumstances, for it was no laughing matter, he
said, to have a right lively devil cavorting around your insides,
pricking you in tender spots with his pointed tail and in
danger of perforating your lungs at any minute. But when
he saw his little sweetheart, Mistress Polly, with her eyes full
of tears and her little soul full of trouble, his heart smote him,
and he caught her up in his arms and kissed her and com-
forted her.
"No, no, no! It isn't so at all, sweetheart, uncle was only
joking. There never was such a thing as a devil in all the














SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

great universe. Never, never, never! and there never will be,
dearie. Uncle knows and he says so." And he assured her
that every one knew that Seraphina was a sweet, modest, high-
minded doll, well bred and careful of all the proprieties-that
her peculiar action was caused wholly by the involuntary con-
traction of the capillary muscles; that so far from being derog-
atory in any sense, it was a thing which might happen at any
moment in the best regulated families; that it was really an
evidence of a highly strung sensitive organization and a dis-
tinguishing mark of blue blood. And when the great apostle
of Christian Science said that the same thing had occurred at
the marriage of the daughter of the King of Dahomey, and
that she was at that moment giving her a ten-thousand-mile-
absent treatment, the guests at once discovered that this was
really a royal illness, and, as a consequence, Seraphina rose
higher than ever in their esteem. And it is a fact worth
noting that, from that day forth, no wedding in Dolldom was
considered quite up to the mark in which this lively episode
was omitted. The Old Don, who had been vowing to himself
that if ever he caught himself out alone he'd thrash himself
within an ace of his own worthless life, seeing the favorable
change in public sentiment, decided that he must certainly be
a most remarkable man and a good general for a tight place.
The real facts of the case regarding the proposed surprise, and
that the old fellow had badly bungled his work, remained a
profound secret, and to this day Seraphina's remarkably aristo-
cratic agitation is the topic of admiring comment in doll
society.
But the roughest road must have its ending. The course















SERAPHINA'S WEDDING.

of true love at length passed from the hills and mountains
and wound through level valleys and green meadows, which,
in plain English, means that there being no further interrup-
tions the wedding ceremony came to a happy termination-the
wedding feast was rich and varied, and the day closed over
Popsey Manor with all as merry as
a marriage bell. ( (
The report of the affair, as it '"
appeared in the next day's Society
Journal, was decidedly unique. It
seems that the reporter, in search I
of information, ran across Don
Henri, who took him up to his own
room, and proceeded to give a de-
tailed description of the ladies' toilets, concerning which he con-
sidered himself an authority. On the arrival of the Journal,
the family gathered in the library and listened to Grandsire
William's reading of the report. Don Henri sat, as usual, in
his great arm-chair, his head thrown back upon the cushions,
the patent leathers reposing on an embroidered foot-rest, and
the hands folded over the home of his complacency. As the
reporter told how Mrs. Fitzhugh showed a great spread of
canvas abaft the main boom, and how Mrs. DeBelleville
seemed to be scudding under bare poles, all her top hamper
carried away in a gale of wind and her main toggery held taut
by the weather brace over the lee shoulder, he smiled a happy,
satisfied smile, as who should say-"The Old Don knows a
thing or two."















































































10




















^ Good-Bye, gweeH[earL




OME, sweetheart, and sit with Uncle for a
moment, please. The old Don brings you here
this little story of Popsey Manor. And though you
know it all-all, every word of it, and all the little
songs beside, yet he is sure that you will keep and
treasure it for Uncle's sake, and in remembrance of
the many happy times we've had together in the
dear old Manor House. If only Uncle Don could
tell a story as Grandsire William can, how beautiful
the little book would be. If only he knew how to
put in words the tender grace of life at Popsey
Manor; how full of love and sunshine, peace and
happiness it is, we know, dear heart, you and I, that never
any book could be like it. Sweet Grandam Mary's deep,
strong home and mother love, how true, how rich it is!
The dear old Grandsire's sunny smile, how radiant, and his
gentle graciousness, how overflowing it is! And Dorothy and
Seraphina, how fair they are and what ladylike doll daughters!
And the graceful, playful dogs, and their funny little cousin
Zip, whose heart is so big the little chap could almost crawl























/
















;-" -" -" "-----'" i=




,

,




















' .














GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART.

inside of it! And Bonney and Max, and all the rest! No
one but you and I, sweetheart, could ever guess how lovely it
all is. Dear little one, your budding life has opened midst a
flood of loving sunlight. Tender hands will lead it up to its
full blossoming of grace and beauty. Life everywhere is very
bright and beautiful, but life at Popsey Manor doubly so.
Yet change is busy with us all, and so it may be that the time
will come when for Grandsire William the hour will have
passed, the wondrous dream be gone, and the voice be gone -
the voice with the love in it, little one, the wonderful love in
it. It may be that life for Grandam Mary will yet grow sad
and sombre; that sitting in the twilight she will some day dis-
cern the lonely, silent shadows which the dear Grandsire's
smile so long has driven away. And Dorothy and Seraphina
may grow old and worn, and even Uncle's little Polly grow out
of the beautiful sunlight into the shadows of life. But now,
sweetheart, while care and sorrow are far away, and life is
fresh and bright and radiant, Uncle Don has tried to catch and
treasure up for you within the pages of this little book a world
of sunshine, and all the sweet, new joy of life. It may be,
little one, you will not understand it all to-day; that Uncle
has sometimes talked too high for you, but still he hopes that
for this very reason the little book will only be the dearer to
you bye and bye.
Thank God, sweetheart, for Memory, the fairy maiden
who keeps for us every beautiful, every lovely thing that
comes to us in life. Yes, little one, I know you do not
understand, but Uncle tells you it is so. She takes the
pleasures of to-day and gives them to us on the morrow, and
on all the fair to-morrows that are waiting in the future.














GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART.

We ride on Bonney down the coast, and on some far-off day,
when we are wearied and troubled, she takes us out and
we thrill again to the wild rush- the blood tingles and the
winds go hurrying by. All the dear joys of your childhood,
little one, she will bring back to you when your hair shall
have grown white like Uncle Don's. Our long-lost Dorothys
and Seraphinas, in the far-off years she will place in our arms
again. The mountains, forests, and the deep blue-tinted
sea our beautiful, sad sea, by which we 've sat so many times
together -she will paint for us anew when we are far away.
Some glorious, many-hued horizon, some cloud-flecked sky,
where the white gulls go dipping and gliding to and fro;
some starry night, when silence lies like dew upon our
hearts-she gives them back to us again and yet again.
How many times, little one, have you and I walked beside
the pretty brook, and picked the dainty flowers one by one.
Do you know, Polly dear, that bye and bye in some weary
hour she '11 take us by the hand, and lead us down to its
green banks again, and bid us listen to its restful murmur-
ing? The old sword rattles in its scabbard on the wall, and lo!
at Memory's bugle call, there form again the long blue ranks
of marching men, and the flags go floating by, and the drums
beat; and-see! little one-see how the bayonets glisten,
and do you not hear them tramp, tramp, tramping on? And
do you see-Oh, my little one, look-just over in the woods,
those little puffs of smoke? Ha, ha! ha, ha! Sweetheart,
there go the great guns thundering down the wind. Hurrah!
Hurrah! how beautifully they come over the hill! And
hush, sweetheart! hark to the voices calling, calling. Do you
not hear them, little one, calling out of the silvery mists-the















GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART.

beautiful, beautiful voices ? Come, come, my pretty one. Let
us go follow them! Quick, quick, sweetheart, they're going,
going back over the sea to the clouds, and the mists, and the
shadows. Oh, they 're gone again -gone, my little one.
: *
Yes, darling, uncle knows; but it's all gone now, and
uncle has come back to you. Ah, dearest, perhaps in the
world beyond the mists and the shadows, the dark hour will
never come to uncle any more. May all the world be gentle
to you, because you love him so in spite of all. What was it
Uncle Don was saying? Ah! so it was, my little lady. We '11
thank the good God that he sent us Memory, and when Old
Father Time shall have led us farther on, and little Mistress
Polly shall have grown to little Maiden Polly, and little
Maiden Polly shall have passed to gentle Madame Polly;
when Grandam Mary shall sit and rock the peaceful hours
away, and dwell upon the distant years "when Polly was a
baby;" when Grandsire's ringing, hearty laugh shall have
grown thin and tremulous; when the old Don shall have
passed to his long home; when Dono shall have
given his last caress, and Bardo stolen his last '
chicken wing; when great gray Bonney shall bear
his master o'er the sunny hills of paradise,'
and when a face less ancient and a mous- -
tache of a younger hue shall bend with you "
above a second Polly's cradle then, sweet- _" --
heart, take this little volume in your hand,
call Memory to your aid, and live again the merry, happy
days at dear old Popsey Manor.





















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POLLY, Polly, Popsey, 0
You turn us turvey topsey, 0!
You tumble down the kitchen stair,
You offer up the Book of Prayer.
Now, sometimes fast, now sometimes slow,
Your little feet like wind-mills go,
0 Polly, Polly, Popsey, O!


Polly, Polly, Popsey, O!
You turn us turvey topsey, 0!
But if the world were cut in two,
And half were offered us for you,

SWe'd keep your merry silvery laugh
Though added were the other half,
We love you, love you, love you so,
0 Polly, Polly, Popsey, O!























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Polly, Polly, Popsey, O! i

Who turns us turvey topsey, O!

Are not your eyes the skies as blue?

Your breath as sweet as morning dew?

Are not your smiles, 0, brighter far

Than even these flashing flamelets are?

Why, bless your little loving soul,

Not half the world--no, not the whole,

Is worth my pretty Popsey, O.

Ah, no! we'll never, never let you go,

0 Polly, Polly, Popsey, O!










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BUNNY, 0 Bunny,
With the little bob tail
Just spread out your ears
And we '11 all take a sail.
We '11 sail down the green
To yonder old stump,
On your bobbitty, bobbitty,
Bobbitty jump.



Bunny, OBunny,
With the little bob tail!
Hurry up or the wind
And the tide will fail;
We '11 be left high and dry
On the green, in the dumps,
With your bobbitty, bobbitty,
Bobbitty jumps.
















VA:























Sail away to your home
In yon beautiful vale,
Where the merry maid
Plays on a silvery flute,
And the pretty birds twitter
In time with the lute.
'Tis a fine ear for music
O Bunny, my boy,

That you have at your mast-head,




Hi Bunny, ahoy,
That you have at your mast-head,-
Hi, Bunny, ahoy!






















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POLLY'S WHITE RABBIT.

Bunny, 0 Bunny,
With the little bob tail,
With the funny pink eyes
And the white coat of mail!
You bob up behind
And you bob up before,
And the more you bob up
You bob up the more.
Your tail it is bobbed,
And bobbed is your nose,
You're the bobbiest bunny
The Universe grows!











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UP within a curtained alcove,
As the night came downward flying,
And the shadows moving softly
Watched the old day slowly dying,














POLLY'S SLUMBERS.

Just above a cradle bending,
Rigid, ancient, grim and hoary,
Stood Don Henri in the twilight
Conning o'er the wondrous story,

How the good God for the lonely,
Plants the fairest flowers apart,
Grows a spray of loving sunlight,
In some baby's tender heart.

How for him a snow-white daisy
Bloomed as flower ne'er bloomed before;
How the sunlight from that cradle
All Life's shadows gilded o'er.

How he loved the little sleeper,
Loyal heart and fiery spirit,
Soul of truth and laugh so merry
That the angels stopped to hear it.

And the snowy moustache drooping,
Drawing closer, bending over,
Soft approached her as a maiden
Goeth forth to meet her lover.



Kisses, kisses without number,
On the red lips waiting lay,
'Till this ancient, bold invader
Stole them every one away.





















































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14



















fadl-low-my-e2in--ko-wee.







OH, come with me
Says the bumble bee,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!
I'll teach you to sing
And show you my sting,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!


Oh, no! Mister Bee,
No music for me,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!
And a bumble bee's sting /
Is a dangerous thing!
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!


Hal-low-my-chin!
Hal-low-my-chin!
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee
Polly my wog
Just hand me the grog,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!















HAL-LOW-MY-CHIN-KO-WEE.

Oh, come to my school
Says the long-eared mule,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!
I'll teach you to bray
And the heel polka to play,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!













But my heels never'd do
For a mule tattoo,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!
" And your bray is by note
While I sing by rote,
SHal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!


Hal-low-my-chin!
Hal-low-my-chin!
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!
Polly my wog,
I'm a jolly old dog,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!














HAL-LOW-MY-CHIN-KO-WEE.

Oh, give me your hand,
Says the crab from the sand,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!
And I'll show you a grip
From the briny dip,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!













I dislike to offend,
But oh, no! my sly friend!
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!
I prefer a crab steak
To a craw-fish shake,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!


Hal-low-my-chin!
Hal-low-my-chin!
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!
Polly my wog
You're all in a fog,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!














HAL-LOW-MY-CHIN-KO-WEE.










Oh, don't you know
Says the Mous-qui-to,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!
If you'll leave me alone
I'll tickle the bone,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!


I'm sorry to miss,
Pretty one, your kiss,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!
But as kissing is wrong
You may sing me a song,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee!


Hal-low-my-chin!
Hal-low-my-chin!
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee r
Polly my wog
You w-walk like a frog,
Hal-low-my-chin-ko-wee I
























. -- _-.;- CI4



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holly's Joye to eome.




Dixie's beautiful as day,
And Maxey's quite as beautiful they say;
Dixie's gay as gay can be,
And Maxey's no less gay than he.

Dixie's round and plump and sleek;
Maxey's anything but meek;
Dixie's eyes are never dim;
Maxey's full of life and vim.


Maxey wear's his mane in crimps;
Dixie's fluffy like an imp's;
Their flowing tails are brushed with care,
For bangs they neither of them wear.

Dixie's stylish and what not;
Dixie sports a stunning trot;
As you ride him up you go,
Because "'Tis English, don't you know."

15















POLLY'S JOYS TO COME.

Maxey's lithe and dark and tall,
And his hoof-beats, as they fall,
Seem so dainty, light and free;
But Dixey's quite as "swell" as he.


Maxey doesn't like the cars,
But he'll leap the meadow bars;
Dixie gallops like the wind,
And Maxey's not a step behind.


Maxey's wild as wild can be,
And Dixey's most as wild as he;
And yet, tis strange, but do you know
They love us, love us, love us so.


Maxey'll kiss you any day,
And Dixey knows just what you say;
Maxey'll search your pockets through,
And Dixey'll find his sugar, too.


Ah, Dixey's life's a happy one,
For never horse beneath the sun
A gentler mistress ever knew;
And Maxey's master's just "too too."

Dixey, Maxey, Mistress, Master,
Sometimes slowly, sometimes faster,
O'er the flowering hillsides go,
In the sunlight's golden glow.




































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