The old farm gate

Material Information

The old farm gate stories and poems for little people
Geikie, Evelyn Cunningham ( Editor )
Greenaway, John, 1816-1890 ( Engraver )
Elwes, Alfred Thomas ( Illustrator )
George Routledge and Sons ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Place of Publication:
New York
George Routledge & Sons
Publication Date:
Physical Description:
64 p. : ill. ; 18 cm.


Subjects / Keywords:
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1882 ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1882 ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1882
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )


General Note:
Contains prose and verse.
General Note:
Some illustrations engraved by J. Greenaway and Dalziel after A.T. Elwes.
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
edited by Evelyn Cunningham Geikie.

Record Information

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:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections ( with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026644938 ( ALEPH )
ALG4653 ( NOTIS )
62726094 ( OCLC )

Full Text

I~ll I


r- -t


.. .

.o,.I ,
'.'i -, : "'

~ ~~~~ : ...D


t t


The Baldwin Lbrari
I. Ir I ~ III~~- I-C-- ~ IC--C2r jI5


A Mornui14g Call'.








.. "-- .

"- SJ.- ..
",". -' ,





..P? TDRETTY birds, pretty
.'-birds, what do you
Flying about on the
leafy spray?:'
Little maid, little man,
can't you guess ?
Ev'ry one comes in a nice clean dress,
S Ev'ry one cheerfully keeps the rule;
- / We merry birds are playing school."

"Butterflies, winging from rose to rose,
What you are playing there's no one knows."
Little maid, little man, oh! 'tis fun,
Roaming and sporting till set of sun:
Roses and lilies white and meek,
'Mong these we play at hide-and-seek."

"Gay breezes, tossing the green leaves about,
What are you playing at when you are out?"
Little maid, little man, come and see,
Here we go racing from tree to tree.
Oh! it is jolly! we never flag;
This is our merry game of tag."

".' Grasshoppers, out in the meadows so sweet,
What do you play with your nimble feet?"
Little maid, little man, one, two, three!
Hipperty hopperty! can't catch me!
Oh! such a merry, delightful game!
Hop-scotch' young folks call its name."



J -""~~l ,=I "-"o.,

I- 'I "

Summer Games.


0 1! i_, NE winter evening a poor
blind man stood at the cor-
S is si r ner of a street selling pen-
II cils. In one numbed hand
N-.-n to ghe held his little stock in
FT a n trade, and with the other he
held a piece of string, the
Send of which was attached
Sto a dog's neck. This dog
was not handsome, he was
of no particular breed, and
indeed was uglier than
Most mongrels. Still, Jer-
ry that was the dog's
name-had as affectionate
-- a heart, and as good an
understanding, as most
of his kind, which is saying a great deal.
Poor Brown, however, did not get many customers, and as it
continued to get colder, he made up his mind to go home-one
little room, which his wife kept very neat and clean. This night,
however, an accident happened which nearly broke the hearts of
both Jerry and his master. As they were crossing the street, they
somehow or other got into a crowd, and before they knew it, the
cord was broken, and poor Jerry was kicked and chased, and nearly
trampled to death. To make a long story short, he was lost, and
by no fault of his was separated from his master.
All this while the man was groping about to try and find his
pencils, and it was only when he got them and whistled for his dog
that he knew Jerry was lost. It was all in vain to call, for Jerry, not


being accustomed to the streets, was rushing madly the very wrong
way, in the hope of getting his master again. Poor, poor Jerry! all
the other dogs made fun of him, and no one helped him to find his
home, and so, nearly frozen with the cold and faint with hunger, he
curled himself up in a doorway and slept. Now, as good luck would
have it, a kind old man-a dog doctor-passed that way next morn-
ing, and seeing him lying took him up and patted him.
"A mongrel, and not handsome!" said Caleb to himself;
"however, he's a dog, and I'm partial to all of 'em-I'll see what
can be done." So, instead of going on, he tucked poor Jerry under
his warm coat, and retraced his steps to his home.
I needn't tell you about this home, as you can get a good idea
from the picture, where you can also see Jerry on the chair waiting
for his medicine. Doesn't he look miserable? He soon felt better,
and after he had eaten some nice hot bread and milk was able to go
out with his new friend. He was very grateful to this kind man,
but still never let his poor master out of his mind even for an in-
stant. Indeed, he hoped that on this walk he might perhaps be
taken near the place where the blind man stood. What will he do
without me ? thought Jerry. Oh, if I could only find him again!"
Scarcely had he uttered these words to himself, when Caleb
turned a corner, and Jerry's wishes were fulfilled., Caleb had come,
by a way unknown to Jerry, to the very street the faithful dog knew
so well. And-joy of joys! there was the blind man standing at his
usual corner, with his basket of small wares and a stick; but alone!
Regardless of passing carts or carriages, with a short, sharp bark of
delight, Jerry bounded across the street, and was at his master's
feet in a moment. I don t know who rejoiced the more at this
Caleb and the blind man became great friends owing to their
introduction by Jerry; and they all had a happy dinner together on
Christmas Day at Caleb's abode; his poor patients coming in for a
share of good cheer, Jerry was made much of by the whole party.

gm++_ +_+++---

+.~- ++--- .-t+ + _. + + s -

____TV_____ II



:l iTHE evening we came home from
on the sea-shore we were all so anx-
ious to see if all our little gardens
h were exactly as we left them, or
whether the flowers had grown, and
so on, that as soon as we got out of
the carriage, we each rushed off to our
own particular spot to satisfy our-
selves. Now my eldest sister Kate
was so glad to get home again, that,
in her joy, she offered to race any
one round the lawn, "just for fun!" None of us wanted a run, so
she had to content herself with being chased by the under nurse,
who was always ready for a romp with any of us.
Off they flew; round and round they went, when Kate, once
being nearly caught, made a dodge down the terrace steps, jumped,
and unfortunately fell with full force on her ankle! If you had
heard her scream, you would have known she was, dreadfully hurt,
poor girl! Nurse and the gardener carried her into the house, and
some one went for the doctor, while she was being put to bed.
"When he arrived, he said she had sprained her foot so badly that
it was all but broken, and she must lie quite still for a long time.
So during the weary weeks she was in her room, she used to read
and play, for she had a large doll that she positively loved.
Doctor Hatherly took the greatest interest in Kate and every-
thing belonging to her. He used to feel the doll's pulse, and pre-
tend to examine her tongue, order her to be bled or blistered, as the
fancy took him, and in fact entered thoroughly into all Kate's whims
and fancies.
One day the kind doctor called, and as usual took up Pearl's

The Doll's House.


doll. I suppose the old gentleman was careless in his way of hand-
ling it; at any rate he managed to give its head a great knock
against the back of the chair, and-horror of horrors I he broke the
beautiful wax face in two. Poor little Kate!
Oh! what a big trouble it was! She was broken-hearted, but
managed to stammer out, Don't be so sorry, doctor, you didn't
mean to break her." Now it happened that very day she was
allowed to move about a little, so that kept her from fretting quite
so much over the doll.
One fine day, about three weeks after it was broken, the butler
said a large case had come for Kate! You can imagine how sur-
prised she was; how she wondered what ikt
S\.k could be.
^ [Imagine her joy at discovering the most beau-
Y. tiful and largest doll's house she had ever seen.
It was taller than herself, and opening with two
doors, was as wide as it was high. It had a
peaked roof, painted red, and outside it was like
a handsome cottage. There were five rooms in
it, all beautifully fitted up. One down stairs was
a kitchen with all appliances; plate-rack, plate-
warmer, stove, coal-scuttle, and fire-irons complete. The next was
a dining-room; the room above that, the parlor, with sofa, chairs,
tables, looking-glasses and piano. The one over the kitchen was
the bed-room, and the large top-room was the nursery, with beds,
and cot, and cradle, all complete!
There was a cook in the kitchen, and other maid servants; a
butler in the dining-room; a lady, full dressed, in the parlor; a lady
asleep in the bed-room, and the nursery was full of nurses and chil-
Inside the doll's house was a slip of paper with these words
written in Dr. Hatherly's writing-"For a patient and well-behaved
little lady, who spoke graciously even when much tried."


D ARK eyes that look very thought-
14 And a pensive little face,
Lit te hands lying idle,
As she rests with childhood's

SThm pe that flew so briskly
Lies quite still upon the ground,
SAnd little thoughts fly quickly
Here, there, and all around.

And the little thoughts that wander,
On the back of the butterfly ride;
To catch the sweet breath of the flowers,
To roam through the summer-world wide.

Away, and away yet further,
Borne on the summer breeze,
To visit the birds in their little nests,
At the top of the great tall trees.

Away, and away to the meadow,
To roll in the sweet scented hay,
To bask in the sunshine, and revel
The whole of the summer's day.

Ii~r .. ..... ...
-- -- -- -- .

".... .....

.. .................

Wandering Thoughgts.


SpLEASE don't think this is that often told
history of the boy who got the cake, and who
Swas so greedy that he hid it away for fear
any one. else should -taste it! Nothing of
the sort. Dick is a fellow who goes to
school in New York, and whose parents live
in New Jersey. He is a favorite with the
boys, and he likes them in return. The doc-
tor always allows a half holiday on the birth-
day of any of his boarders, for you see they
are all rather little, and besides, there are
very few of them. This happens to be Dick's birthday, and as you
see, his mother has sent him a cake and some apples, and I don't
know what else besides. Now Dick knew these things were com-
ing, so he and the other chaps asked the doctor whether he and
Mrs. Birch, and Lilly and Grace, would promise to take tea in the
school-room. The doctor said, Yes, with pleasure." So you see
these four are unpacking some of their good things, and are going
to get the tea ready all by themselves. .
Grace is to pour out tea, and Lilly is to / ,*
sit next to Dick, because it's his party.
Mrs. Birch has promised to play charades, .:
and the doctor to read some funny tales,
so they are expecting a good time. Dick -
doesn't know it yet, but his mother and
father are coming, too; and what's more, going to bring his sisters
with them; so there'll be four girls and four boys, and they can
have a fine dance, and play games. Dick wants to make the other
boys enjoy themselves as much as possible, for they, poor fellows,
are so far away from their friends. He can go home any time in a

Dick's Birthday.

Dick's Birtikday.


couple of hours, but none of them in less than many days. Tom's
parents are in Connecticut, and the other boys have come all the way
from Virginia. I'm sure you hope they will all have a very pleasant
evening; I do, but as it has not begun yet, I cannot tell you more
about it. But, I think, as they are all such good friends, it will
surely be a happy one.


LINGERING LATIMER lived up a tree,
Just like a Sloth;
Slackest and slowest of slow-boys was he,
Lazy and loth!

He kept a pet tortoise, and that had the gout,-
A very poor goer;
And Lingering Latimer, when they went out
For a walk, was the slower!

There was nothing about him would run-not his nose,
We are told!
But the secret of Ital was (it's under the rose)
He could not catch-cold

In his prospects we cannot but own there is hope
Of a sort;
He may live by performing upon the slack rope,
And can never run-short!


H, what a fine cat Tom must be al-
__ most tired of hearing this said of him,
and if he were like some little boys and
girls it would make him vain. But I do
Snot think he cares for what people say if
they will only speak kindly, and not push
him, or drive him about.
Tom is really very handsome, and it
is when he stands up to be stroked that
people exclaim, "Oh, what a fine cat! Poor Tom, if he could only
remember the day his kind mistress saved him from cruel boys and
carried him home under her shawl, I think he would love her even
better than he does. He was a poor frightened little kitten then,
and the wicked boys had driven him about the streets till he got
quite wild, and they told the lady not to touch
him because he was mad.
But she was not afraid; she lifted up the
poor little trembling creature and put it under
her cloak, and then, didn't she give those
naughty boys a good scolding for their cruelty i
Three years have passed since that day,
and Tom has grown so large and handsome
that every one admires him. I dare say he
thought it was a dreadful day for him when he
wandered away from his own home and the
boys drove him nearly mad, but after all it
turned out a good day for Tommy. He found
a happy home, with plenty to eat and drink, a comfortable bed, and
above all, a kind mistress and servants, who take care of him and
treat him well. He's a good-natured old fellow, and the children

------------ --

Handsome Tom.


are very fond of him. He has learnt lots of tricks; he can stand on
his hind legs and shoulder arms like a soldier! Can draw the
doll's carriage when they take their morning drive. Can beg as well
as any dog, and oh! you should see what lots of mice he catches in
the barn. If any one saw what great friends he and Sambo are,
there would be no more talking about quarrelling like cat and dog."
They eat from the same dish, lie side by side on the rug, play
together, and are very much attached to each other. Many people
say they don't like cats, but if they only knew Handsome Tom they
could never say so again, for he is not only beautiful in appearance,
but really, for a cat, he has a beautiful character.


"- HHIS is poor old Grumpy." I don't know how
I he got his name, for I'm sure he's anything but
"grumpy" to me at least. You can see from
/, the look of him that he isn't one of those dogs
Swho live in drawing-rooms, and eat chicken-
bones and sugar. Oh, dear, no; poor "Grumpy"
,. lives in an old barrel, as you shall hear later
S:I .A on, and he never gets any meat at all; nothing
":, but dog biscuit ever crosses his lips, although
." his master is a rich man, with ever so many
-grand houses. Now don't think for one minute
--that this good old dog is neglected. He is
; ::: taken the very greatest care of, and it is of his
own free will that he lives in such a queer
house. There are lots of other dogs at the hunting-box where he
is kept, but he has been there longer than any of them, and seems to
feel as if they were all in his particular care. The game-keeper,

"GRUMPY." 21

who has the charge of all the dogs, is very fond of Grumpy, and I'm
going to tell you why, so that you can judge for yourselves whether

Well, then, Brown had a little son whose name was Jim. He is a
big chap now, but of course he was little once, and like all working-
big chap now, but of course he was little once, and like all working-

22 "GRUMPY."

men's children in quiet country places, he was allowed to crawl
about, in and out of the house, into the garden, or wherever he
chose to go, for Mrs. Brown used to say there was nothing that
could harm him. For a long time this was certainly true, but one
fine day, as Jim was creeping round the little cottage, a very large
boar came down the road and strayed into the garden. The baby
had a little dog and a rabbit, with which it was playing, but the hog,
savage with hunger, and vicious at the best of times, ran towards
them and instantly killed them both, and began to tear them to
pieces before it saw the poor child. As soon as it discovered Jim
it ran at him, and in another minute he would have been dead too,
but for old Grumpy, who happened to come along, and guessing
what was the matter, he caught the baby by its clothes and carried
him off in safety! I suppose he wondered to himself where he'd
better put him, his own kennel was too small; and then, I fancy, it
must have struck him about an empty barrel in the yard. No
sooner had he thought of this than off he ran to it, put Jim carefully
in the back of it, and lay down himself in front of him. The baby
was safe, but Grumpy no doubt thought Mrs. Brown would wonder
where Jim was; so the cunning old fellow stayed there and barked
until she came to him and found her little son. At first she could
not think how he had got there, but soon she saw the dead rabbit
and the puppy, and before long she heard from a neighbor that a
furious boar had been shot that afternoon, only just in time to save
the life of a boy it was attacking. Then she guessed that the dog
had saved her child. Ever since that day Grumpy has continued to
live in the barrel, and another dog has his nice home now. Is it
any wonder the game-keeper makes a favorite of the deerhound ?

LITTLE flower of the field, to me you tell a tale
Of blooms upon the hill-side, of blossoms in the vale.


UMMER trees are clad in
All the buds are blowing,
SAnd the winter's gone away:
There is no fear of snowing.

""Now the tufted grass is laid,
Alas, the fair wild flowers I
They died too soon beneath the
And wither through the

The little field-mice fly in fear,
The lark's nest is turned over,
The mowers spared nor mouse nor bird,
Nor buttercup nor clover.

And to the hay-field children come,
With merry shouts of laughter;
And tumble all the hay about,
And then come tumbling after.

The children revel in the hay,
All in the bright June morning,
The hay that was such grand tall grass,
With sweet gay flowers adorning.


;_ 0-4 0 E--

Hay -Time


c aONCE knew a boy in Vermont
who was the most curious fel-
low you ever heard of. He
d would have a finger in every
pie; and nothing seemed to
make him mind his own af-
Sfairs, until at last he was
nearly killed. After that he
used to go his own way, and
both he and other people
were the better for it. Now
I want to say to you, boys
and girls, that nothing looks
worse in children than to be
continually asking questions about all they see their elders doing.
It is very forward, and no child who is forward is ever liked well.
This boy of mine lifted lids and peeped into everything; he opened
doors to see what was behind; he looked into windows, and did
every sort of shabby and mean trick, for no other reason than curiosity.
The day Master Johnnie paid most dearly for his prying, came near
being the end of him altogether. He had just come out of the
stable, where he h'ad almost been kicked by one of the horses which
he had teased into a bad temper, when suddenly he bethought him-
self of a poor little bird's nest, at the far end of the garden. That
very morning he had been told by his father that neither he nor his
sister Nancy was to touch it; but Johnnie's curiosity led him even
to disobey, and as you will see, he paid bitterly for his sin. He
said to himself, "I guess I could climb that tree and get the nest;
no one would miss it, and certainly no one would know I had done
it." So, with this poor excuse, the naughty boy began to mount


branch by branch. Never did it strike him how mean it was to
frighten the birds or steal the eggs! The old birds had flown away
to get food for the young ones, who were still tiny little balls of
down, and could only lie rolled up in the nest. All at once Johnnie
put his head up, and the poor baby birds were wondering what on
earth such a giant could want, when he put his hand out to catch
hold of them At that instant there was a loud crack, then another,
and another; then the branch broke altogether, and down he went,
N torn, and bruised, and bleeding, and
nearly killed. He lay some time before
Sii any one came to him, and at last, when
ithe doctor was called, he said Johnnie
was seriously injured. However, as it
":: happened, he did recover, thanks to kind
friends and good nursing; but need I
tell you this affair of the bird's nest was
.- the end of his curiosity. Of course the
a.s- four little birds grew up in peace, and
got their feathers, and learned to fly, and
were always happy. Long after this story happened, Johnnie told
me one day how it had taught him to try to be kind to everything
living, especially to such as depend on us for food and protection.
A great and good poet once told us:

Never to blend our pleasure, or our pride,
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels."

A SWEET, sweet sprig of lily-of-the-valley;
Who shall have it? Little merry Sally;
She shall keep it, and wear it all day:
Lilies are found in the garden in May.






S LITTLE while ago I told you
how old Grumpy had saved
S: Jim; now I can show you a picture
,ireh sr of Jim himself in the barrel. After
Sr the day he was first taken there
Sby his friend, the baby got into a
", b: habit of creeping round that way,
w. until before long he used to go
I td y h Bron h:ad constantly. Mrs. Brown felt that
"- Grumpy was a good nurse, and she
was sure, too, that Jim could get
-4- into no harm with his big protec-
tor near, so every morning she put
fresh straw in the barrel, and as soon as the baby went that way,
she felt she could go about her work without fear of danger.
There were lots of other things that Grumpy could do besides
mind the baby, though whatever he did, he nearly always took Jim
with him. Sometimes he would go after the cows, and leave Jim at
home, but when he went down on the beach to watch the clothes
while they were drying, the little boy went with him. I shall tell
you just one more story about this old dog, and then you shall hear
something else.
I told you that Brown had a great many other dogs in his care.
Among them was a big mastiff who, at the time of which I am writ-
ing, was very sick, and in consequence of this, I suppose, Brown only
allowed him half his usual quantity of food. Grumpy was quite well
that day, and was just commencing his full allowance of dinner.
While he was smacking his lips, and thinking how good it would
be, he turned round and saw poor Bruce watching him, and evi-
dently thinking, don't I wish I had some more." The one look

--- -;- 4f



was enough; in a second Grumpy took a whole biscuit from his
dish, and carrying it very carefully, laid it down beside Bruce, and
then quietly walking back to his plate ate what remained. Wasn't
that good-hearted ?


\, .,, -.. ID you ever see such a sweet lit-
./!,!--. '-U tle pony? He has come a long
journey, too, for you will see by his
SJ' looks that he is not a native like you.
Take your atlas and find the map
Sof Europe, and then look right up at
the top of Scotland and you will see
." i 1 the Shetland Isles, and when you've
found them, just think what a great
traveller Mousey has been. Poor fellow! he didn't want to come
to the States at all, but now that he is here, nothing would make
him go back again. Oh! he was so sea-sick! and besides that,
which in itself was very hard to bear, he just perfectly hated to have
to stay in one little pen so many days, and his fellow passengers,
too, didn't please him at all. They were all very common, ill-bred
horses; great gawky fellows that Mousey couldn't make friends of,
or even speak to, for some of them were German, and others were
French; in fact, he alone of them all was an educated and gentle-
manly horse, and to be with such a crew was a great trial to him.
When he landed in New York, it was a great relief to him to be
met by his future groom, and to be led to a genteel stable, where he
could meet ponies of his own class in society.
After being introduced to all his new companions, he was taken
round to the avenue to make the acquaintance of his future mistress.

S- --~ -




He did not care for her at first, and looked very rudely at her, but
when his stable friends told him afterwards how good she was, he
was sorry he had behaved so, and from that day he tried his best to
gain her good opinion. He soon learned that he should bow when
she gave him a piece of carrot; that he should shake hands when
she said good-morning, and nod at her when she left the stable.
He found, too, how much it pleased her when he could- do any new
tricks, so he set about copying all the dogs did. One day he opened
the dining-room win-
dow and walked in
while she was having
r- -- dessert! This delight-
ed her so much that
after that he came in
Se v e r y day regularly,
h and if she said "Shut
Sthe window again," he
S. would trot over and do
it directly!
He enjoyed the
cake and candy, and other good things so much, that what do you
think he did one day, but bring in the big horse, who stood next
him in the stable! And just fancy, he was clever enough to know
that the great fellow couldn't get through the window, so he brought
him in at the back door, along the hall! That day they had both
been in the field, so that was how Snowball was loose.

A SMALL, small branch of a very large tree;
Pray, little folks, say what it may be ?
It is shady and grand, and grows in our land,
And it is reckoned a very fine tree.


P EARL had three sisters and a brother, and
Sas she was the eldest of the four, of course
""they one and all looked up to her. I don't
mean that she had the care of them, you
know, for their mother had a dear, kind old
2 nurse whom they loved very much, but
"still they looked up to Pearl, as she was
k the "biggest;" and they used to copy
.l whatever she did, as children generally
do, not in the case of the hot poker, though,
"I'm glad to say; that frightened them and
taught them a lesson into the bargain. This is the way it all hap-
pened them.
One day they were sitting round the nursery fire, and Martha
was telling them stories, when suddenly she was called from the
room. Before leaving them, she said she would be back directly,
and that they must be good, and above all, not touch the stove,
especially the poker, which she had laid over the top to draw up the
fire, as old ladies sometimes do. They all shouted, "All right, Nurse,"
except Pearl, and she said, nothing would make her disobey; but
although she made so much of her obedience, she was the very one
to disobey, as you will soon see. No sooner had Nurse turned her
back than the naughty girl looked at little Frank and said, You
didn't promise, so you can move it just for fun." But Frank
wouldn't. Then, after trying to get the others to do it, and finding
they wouldn't touch it, she began to mock at them and call them
babies. She declared it was not hot, as she would show, and so
saying, she caught up her sleeve and laid the poker on her arm.
What an awful burn she got you may know, when I tell you that

,','i' ff l"' ,"'* '' I i~, ii,,,, '" ''" : 'ilI
PiNi h'I
.'' ;- 'i"'., i,".7 ' "' '

r' ''" '"" ... 'lllI
I 'I* 'lipi liii
t li i i

Hill X i I 'I: h.
'I'I 1,' 1

I',11'1,,'' I' :' ',

ii; I\ : 1,,," ,, I i ,I ,

I' _
,,.: lli : a llm : '.lr i :' ., ';

-_ '----_7- _- _____ ,,_____
~~~~~~111 _II,,, ,,,,,, "I'~' I


The Hot Poker.


it is years ago now, and yet she has the big scar on her still. After
boasting as she had, she could not cry or let them see how much
she was hurt; so in great pain she pulled down her sleeve and tried
to talk on, but they knew that she was in agony. When Nurse came
back no one liked to tell, so poor Pearl suffered on without having
anything done to help her. It happened that a cousin of theirs
came that day to have tea in the nursery, and they had all been
looking forward to it very much. But when tea-time came, Pearl
was in such terrible pain that she could not keep from crying, and
being badly behaved and rude to Frank, who accidentally hit her
on the sore place, her cousin sent her out of
the room. This was more than she could
bear; disgrace as well as pain; but what was
she to do ? Her arm was getting unbearable;
so, after thinking over it for some time, in she '/V
went and confessed the whole story to Mrs.
Grey. Then the next shame she had to bear
was when the doctor came, and she had to
tell him. This was far worse than telling her /
cousin, for she thought he would tell his chil-
dren, and then they wouldn't play with her any
more. Besides all this, her burn was doubly /
sore to dress after having been neglected for
hours. Poor Pearl! her punishment was very hard to bear. That
night she resolved never to disobey again, and what's more, she
kept her resolve, and when the pain would allow her, she went to
the other children and told them all about it, and begged them
never to deceive or disobey, but by being honest and obedient, to
be happy and good.

WHEN I was out a-walking, I met an old, old man;
What he said, and what I said, now, guess it if you can.


ACK and Ma-
S. .... ry had a bird
which they had
trained from the
nest. A star-
i t ad c ling, /ihe very
cleverest bird,
"and-w they thought,
That ever was
." born! Did you
e ever see any
......k starlings ? They
are lovely birds,
with glistering
feathers of a pur-
plish green, and
.- speckled with
light colored
spots. Well, this
starling the children had was very tame, and a very great pet. They
did not keep it in a cage, as most girls and boys keep their birds,
but it lived with the pigeons in their house out in the yard. It
used to run about the yard, and into the house, and all over. It
could whistle a tune as well as Jack, and it could talk very distinctly
too. It was very mischievous, and took a great many funny fancies.
One of these was an intense dislike to the chambermaid, Jane. She
did not like it, and it found that out at once, and teased her con-
stantly in return. When she was up stairs, it would pretend to be
in trouble, and call, "Jane, come at oncee" or, "Oh! Jane, Jane, come; "
and down she would rush, only to find she wasn't wanted. It knew


-:-3L .- ---- -~

--- W ~ i (- *= .-


a good many sentences, and of course could fly all over the house,
so that Jane would often run, thinking he was up stairs, when in
reality he had followed her. As long as he lived, he teased that
girl; and I think, perhaps, he had some reason, for the parent did
the very same too.
Dick was very fond of Mary, and would let himself be saddled
into a little cart and draw her doll round the garden. Jack taught
him to fetch and carry, and I couldn't tell you all the clever tricks
beside. Indeed, he really was a wonderful bird. One of his fancies
was for the cow, on whose back he would very often perch; and
while there, he would jump about and gobble up all the flies and
other insects that troubled poor Daisy. Indeed, everybody was fond
of him (except Jane), and you may guess what a great trouble it
was to his master and mistress when the poor fellow was killed.
Well, this was the way it happened. It was the last day of the
spring vacation, and Jack and Mary, and of course Dick, had been
roaming about the fields. They were almost home again, when
Dick spied a big beetle, which he ran to pick up, when oh, hor-
rors! a man who was shooting in a field saw him, aimed at him,
and killed him. Before they could get up to him, he had given a
scream, a flutter, and then had fallen on his back dead! In the
picture they are in great trouble, wondering what they'll do without
him. Aren't you sorry for them ? He has been their companion for
three years, and now the poor fellow has been murdered in their
very presence.

A GREEN, green tree, that stands by itself,
A tree without very much shade;
For its branches are cropped quite small at top,
Until to a point it is made.


TRUDGING through the fields so early,
-^ Whither going, little maid,
With your basket so well laden,
"- Walking with a step so staid?

"-Come now, just look round a moment,
I so long to see your face;
SThe crown alone of your straw bonnet
Should not always take its place.

Stop one minute, pluck a flower,
Drop your umbrella, pray.
It is wearying thus to follow
Just a back the livelong day.

I am sure your face is lovely,
Lilies, roses there combine,
That your eyes are very handsome:
Do just turn and look at mine!

Or perhaps you are too hideous-
Fear that you should frighten me:
I have heard of pig-faced ladies,
And one I should like to see.

I'd like to make you drop your basket,
Bo at you and make you start:
You are so tiresome and provoking,
I think you've neither face nor heart.

________ ,,ii'
------------- -----ret
------ --------


Plain, or Preltty?


That stiff strait bow that ties your pigtail,
So neat and nice and wondrous trim,-
I'd like to tweak it, make it crooked,
I don't like people when they're prim.

Come, now, do not think me spiteful;
If you would but turn your head,
I would ask you to forgive me
For the naughty things I've said.

But the little village maiden
Calmly trudges on her way,
Heedless both of prayers and scolding,
Caring naught for what I say.


O SUNFLOWER, what is the secret thing
You hide in your inmost heart,
When you turn to the Sun, like a slave to a king,
With all your leaves apart?

The hollyhocks vainly listen round,
They are nearly as tall as you;
The bee comes away with an angry sound,
For he cannot get the clue.

You hide your secret, day in day out,
But you eagerly watch your king,
And some hot noon, you will speak with a shout,
And tell us that secret thing!


S-, ./ Y father was very fond of horses,
S--particularly Dobbin, which he
"- had bought, a little long-legged
colt, and had trained himself;
"" "- but dogs he couldn't endure,
-- _and he was, always angry if he
-- saw poor Dan about the house,
until the story happened which
I am going to tell you about. Now Dan was just the same age
as Dobbin, and from the very first they had been the greatest
friends. Dan used to lie in the stall with the horse, and in fact, as
often as they found an opportunity, they were together. One day
father had gone to the hunt on his favorite; but early in the day we
were horrified to see him brought home in a carriage! He said he
had had a spill," but was not much hurt, and indeed he seemed
less anxious about himself than about his horse.
He told us that the last he saw of Dobbin was when he first
recovered from the stunning effect of his tumble. Then the horse
had already jumped a hedge and was in the next field, where he was
galloping along after the hunt, shaking his head, and seeming to
enjoy the sport all the more for finding himself riderless.
This was pretty early in the day, but hour after hour passed
and no one brought back Dobbin. Then it was discovered that
Dan was missing too. We all said at once that Dan had gone off
in search of his lost friend, but nobody was prepared for what really
It was late in the afternoon when the two friends made their
appearance together in a curious fashion: Dobbin trotted quietly up
to the lodge gate, with Dan leading him, and holding the reins in
his mouth. Having passed through the gate, Dan did not let go


1 I

% \ \

.a and o --

Dan and Dobbin.


of his prisoner, but brought him straight up to our front door, and
there sat down with an air of triumph, still holding the reins in his
mouth, as you see in the picture.
Where Dan had found the horse, how far he had gone before
he met with him, or how long he had been leading him, a willing
prisoner, along the road-we never knew. But Dan's exploit had
at least one excellent result. From that day my father became as
fond of the poor old dog as he had before disliked him.


---. O NE day when I was little, I remember our
nurse was constantly whispering some-
thing mysterious to our governess, and, as
S you may guess, my sister Mary and Frank
"and I were very anxious to know what it
was all about. At last I heard Nurse say,
a I'm most done now, and I don't think we
need tell the children to-night." That was
enough for me, so I bothered and teazed
.- until I was told that next day we were all
going to the sea-side. I dreamt about buckets
and spades, and all sorts of things, and you may depend I was up
in time in the morning. Now in those days we were living in
England, and there, you know, everything is not quite the same as
here. The house my father had taken was at Brighton, on the south
coast-a lovely, glorious place.
When we arrived the sea was peaceful and smooth. As we
drove along the cliff from the depot, we could see fishing boats and
larger vessels lying quietly on the calm water, and we could hear
the murmur of the tiny waves on the beach. And, joy of joys! we


could see the bathing machines, and we knew we should in a day
or two be having splendid dips in the sea. I wonder if you little
people love the sea as I did when I was a child, and indeed as I
always have all my life. To be near the sea, on the sea, or in the
sea, has always been one of my greatest pleasures. And now I am
going to tell you a bathing adventure which happened to me during
this very visit to Brighton.
You must know that there was at that time one quite important
member of our family that I have not yet mentioned to you: this
member of the family was a dog-a true sky terrier-called Elfie,
for he was like an elf in his clever odd ways we thought. He was
beloved by us all, but was the particular property of Mary, who was
very, very fond of him, and for a
long time kept to the delusion
; : ---- that Elfie was a prince in dis-
I -*i -:' guise; and that he would one
day get rid of the enchantment
-: which had turned him into a
"".:...-o---^ -- ~dog, and, becoming a hand-
"some young prince, he would
straightway offer her his hand
and heart. Elfie acknowledged Mary as his mistress, but he ex-
tended his loving friendship to all the rest of the family, and par-
ticularly patronized me. Elfie was very handsome in his way, and
I always thought he knew it. He was dark bluish grey in color,
with very silky hair, which hung over his beautiful eyes; he had a
coal-black nose-but look at the picture, and you will see him.
Elfie went to Brighton with us, and always accompanied us
when we went to bathe; he hated the water, and therefore never
thought of coming after us into the sea, but he went with us into
the machine, and would sit at the open door with a wise expression,
watching us bathe.
But to come to my adventure: One morning I was got ready

1f -i_..1., I i I 1'i'Ill II l, I _-- -

.,, iI,,!It _I I'

V. W,

_i,_ ---__ -i= ..
iTh Sa ,_ -.-ide-._-

,2C~ , %

i Y .

~ ~1;,-~I-__~ __:._- -_

The Sea-side.


for my bath the last of the three; our usual old bathing woman,
Nanny, had given Mary and Frankie their dips (for mamma was
most particular that we should have our heads wet first), and was
now engaged in giving them sundry odd jumps up and down and
" merry-go-rounders," as we called them. Nurse told me to wait
for Nanny; and had turned into the other compartment of the
machine, for it was a double one, to say something to the nursery
maid, who was arranging our clothes, when the idea occurred to me
that I would join the party in the merry-go-round without my usual
dip. Accordingly I descended the steps slowly and cautiously.
Nanny and the others did not notice me; the only person who was
aware of my intention was Elfie, and he certainly did not approve.
Down I went, going to the last rung of the little ladder-then-I
made a false step, and fell into the water, head first. I was stunned!
Nanny heard the splash, but did not see me; Nurse ran to the bath-
ing-machine door, and did not see me. Elfie barked furiously, and
was the first to see my little white cap, which was lifted on a wave a
few feet off. The brave doggie did not hesitate, but sprang into the
water, swam the short distance, and seized it. He kept my head
above water until the old bathing woman waded to me, and I was
soon carried back to the machine.
My little face was badly scratched from my fall, but otherwise
I soon recovered. And I never tried to have a bathe without my
usual dip from Nanny again.

A PERSON once said, I will run;
You can have no idea of the fun
Of running so fast
That you drop down at last,
And feel that you're utterly done."


ST" HIS is an
-- '.. : 1 English sto-
Ia .:. ry, about Jack,
AMR= who was a re-
markably sharp
""a boy. He was a
"w rosy, handsome
Little lad of
about ten years
"old at the time
of my story. His
father and mo-
ther had been
S: obliged to go to
India when he was a very little fellow, and Jack had been left in the
care of his grandmother in England. Now grandmamma was very
fond of the child, and spoiled him dreadfully, letting him have his
own way in everything, and his uncle David seeing this, strongly
advised her to send the little lad to school.
My dear mother," said Uncle David to Lady Gordon, "you
let him have his own way too much: indeed you do. He orders
the servants about, he gets into all manner of mischief, and he is
such a sharp little fellow that he can generally persuade you all he
does is right."
Grandmamma sighed as she thought of losing her little com-
panion. Well, my dear," said she to Uncle David, "I will think
about it: I cannot make up my mind to send him from me just yet."
However, on the very day after this conversation, Master Jack
managed to get into more mischief than usual. He jumped out

C Mr

Clever Afaster fack.


from behind the dining-room door with a loud shout just as the
butler was bringing in a tray for lunch; the poor man was so
startled that he dropped the tray, and both glass and china were
broken. Then a little later in the afternoon, finding grandmamma's
pet cat and her Skye terrier sleeping side by side on the rug, Jack
contrived to tie their tails together with a piece of string without
waking them; and you may imagine, when they did wake, what a
spluttering, and barking, and hissing there was.
It was this last piece of mischief which decided grandmamma
to send him to school at last, for, as she rightly said, there was more
cruelty than fun in it; and Uncle David was commissioned to find
out a school at once. This he soon did, and Master Jack started off
for Birchley Academy after a tender and tearful parting from his
dear grandmamma.
At school Jack was rather liked than otherwise both by his
schoolfellows and the master. The boys liked him because he was
full of fun and up to all sorts of pranks, while he pleased the master
by his cleverness and quickness in learning. On his return home
for the holidays, it soon appeared that he was not less sharp for
having been to school, and that he had learnt to turn his sharpness
to good account, as you will see by the little story I am going to
tell you.
The first evening of his holidays he was amusing himself by
building a house with cards, while grandmamma sat by the fire
working. He was making his house rather carelessly, and as fast
as it rose to two or three stories down it toppled. At last he said
Grandmamma, dear, will you give me fifteen cents if I build
my house six stories high ?"
Yes, my dear."
But will you double the money if I build seven stories, and
go on doubling for every extra story that I build ?"
Yes, my dear, I will," said grandmamma, rather sleepily, for


she was just going to indulge in a nap, and little dreamt of the trap
she was falling into.
Having obtained this promise, Jack set to work carefully, almost
breathlessly, to build his house, and in a few minutes grandmam-
ma's slumber was disturbed by hearing him say: Six stories: that's
fifteen cents, grandmamma!" Then in another minute: "Seven
stories: thirty cents!" Here he paused to get a chair to stand
upon, for the house had grown so high. Eight stories: sixty cents!
Nine stories: a dollar twenty! Ten stories: two dollars forty!"
And so he went on, building up and doubling the money, till at the
thirteenth story down fell the house. My little readers can calculate
what a large sum by that time the fifteen cents had grown into, and
they may imagine grandmamma's astonishment.


... WON'T go into that place. I won't learn
.4.-f to read nor write neither. No, I won't, I
tell yer! I hates the beastly old letters, that
gets all muddled up together when I looks
at them. I shan't go in, I tell yer!"
So cried Master Peter Stretton, as he
and his elder sister neared the National
S "Come along, Peter; mother'll be angry
if you don't, and father'll give you a hiding.
You know father's hands are precious heavy."
I shan't! cried the obstinate boy.
S / "Well, I shall catch it if you ain't in
"school to-day; so come along, I tell you I"
She spoke these last words in a loud, angry voice, and, catch-


ing hold of her little brother, tried to give effect to her words by
force. A regular tussle followed, as you see, little readers, in the
picture. Slates and book-bags fell in the mud, and the scuffle
ended by both children rolling over together, their clothes being
torn and dirtied. This disgraceful scene was acted in the sight of
several scholars on their way to school; the little boys laughed at
it, but the little girls looked on in dismay. Peter conquered: he
won the battle at last by a kick upon his sister's arm, and while
she stopped to rub it, he bounded off as fast as his young legs
would take him, leaving books and slate on the ground.
After crying a little, Matty turned and entered the school-
house, considerably the worse for her strug-
gle. She was about ten years old, while
Peter was only seven, and, besides being a
sharp, sensible girl, she had arrived at an age
to understand the advantage of learning.
Her father and mother could neither read
nor write; but they had often felt what an
w j inconvenience and drawback this was to them,
and were quite as determined as Matty that
Peter should learn as much as he could be made to learn. It was
not only a dread of the School Board fines that made them insist
upon his going to school; it was also a sincere desire that, for his
own sake, he should acquire knowledge.
Peter rushed away from his sister and the hated school-house,
but he did not run home-for a very good reason, he dared not. He
played in the gutter with other truant boys, and for a time amused
himself very well, making mud pies, or playing games on the pave-
ment, to the annoyance of the passers-by. At last Peter began to
feel cold-it was the early spring-particularly about his little legs,
which were bare from the knee to the ankle. He was reminded also
that it was past his dinner-time, for he felt exceedingly hungry.
All at once, while he was wondering what to do, a crowd of

I K I II, c11, T

,,'', .
,r IIII'I' "
,, ii,

WO "

.. L III- _I ',
.9 -

S' '


w Peter ;
11:1 1
,~I .. ,
: .

,i' : "I ,,

,ri' I I :,,

H~ne, Peter Learned to Re ,
I,~~ I !, ,i] II
, 1 G I;, i

. _
IiljIIl ,,q,~Y~~ 'ii I, \Ii
r I'11'I:'"1 "

-0 Pee eredt ed


people rushed round the corner shouting, Fire! fire! fire! He thought
he would join them, so on he ran, forgetting for the time both hun-
ger and cold. Before he knew where he was, almost, he found
himself in a big square, in front of the burning house. It was an
awful sight, he thought, and he began to feel so hungry again that
he would try to get out of this by running over the square, and
dodging the policemen. He waited a good chance, and then flew
for the corner opposite, where there were very few people, but he
had barely got half way when he heard a great crash, and he knew
no more until three days after, when he woke in the hospital. He
had got a severe cut on the head, and his leg was broken. For two
days after he ran away, his father and mother were very anxious, as
they could not find any trace of him. At length the police were
able to tell, what had happened, and poor Peter was visited in his
little cot. When he saw his mother, his first words were to beg her
pardon, and to say that when he got well he would try to be good
at school. Whether he kept his promise or not you may guess,
when I tell you that before he left the hospital he could read, and
that when he went back to school he gained the character of being
a good and clever boy.


I KNOW a little rose,
And oh, but I were blest,
Could I but be the drop of dew
That lies upon her breast I

But I dare not look so high,
Nor dream of life so sweet;
It is enough for me to be
The dust about your feet 1


T, BERTHA MAYNE was ten years
i _A '. old when one of her uncles gave
Sl her a set of dolls, dressed up like a
wedding party. There was the bride
-- all in white satin and lace, and the
S-- bridegroom in full regimentals, just
like an officer. She had her long train, and her veil, and all the
things that girls wear when they're married in style," and he had
a sword and belt and sash and epaulets, and a fine plume in his
cocked-hat; in fact, he looked like the commander-in-chief of the
army! Then, besides these two, there were eight bridesmaids. If
you could have seen how fine they were, each of them leaning on
the arm of a soldier, I think you would have been as excited as
Bertha over her lovely present. She clapped her hands and laughed,
and even cried with joy. She made them promenade up and down
the dining-room table, till at last she grew tired of standing, and
then, putting them all in a box in front of her, she sat down to rest,
and to have a good view of them once more. She noticed every-
thing about them, from the crowns of their heads to the soles of
their feet. Nothing was lost to her; ribbons and sashes and flow-
ers and frills, and all the other finery were admired again and again.
When she tired of the ladies, she turned to the gentlemen. Didn't
they look splendid ? What a fine uniform! scarlet coats look pretty,
you know. Then she wondered whether she'd ever see a real live
soldier. Of course she had often seen pictures of them, but she
wanted to see a man soldier and not a picture." Wouldn't it be
grand to be a bridesmaid, too?\ She wished some one she knew
would get married, so that she might go to the wedding and wear a
white silk dress. She once even thought she'd like to be married her-
self, but then both she and her school friends were too little to get


f hN 1

The Bridesmaid.


married. There was Mary, her sister, though; She's big enough,"
thought Bertha, so off she ran to Mary's room to ask her if she
wouldn't be kind enough to marry a real soldier," and let her be
one of the bridesmaids? Mary laughed and seemed amused, and
wanted to know why she'd like her to promise such a queer thing?
Then Bertha took her down stairs and showed her the dolls, and all
the while Mary was admiring them she kept saying, Oh, Polly, do
promise to marry an officer. I do want to be a bridesmaid."
At last Mary said, Well, since you're so anxious, little woman,
I'll see about it."
As you may guess, Mary just happened '
to be engaged to an officer, and so in a few
weeks, when she was married, Bertha was in
raptures, and thought everything had been
arranged to suit her alone. For days be-
fore the wedding she was in a state of great \\
delight, and in the picture you see her as
she looked that morning. She is just \
putting on a wreath of jasmine which her
new soldier brother has sent for her as well
as for all the other bridesmaids, for Mary
thought if it was such a pleasure for Bertha it might please other
little girls too, and so instead of having grown-up ladies, she chose
twelve children, about the same age as Bertha, and you may sup-
pose they enjoyed the treat very much.

SMALL black-haired child, with a chubby round face,
Two little round eyes, and round nose;
Little fat arms, and little white frock,
And out peep the dear little toes!


"ss a' w gthe name of this sweet lit-
"tle girl you see. She lives not
very far from here, and is, you
Si may guess, the pet of the whole
Neighborhood. Her parents are
.i.l very rich people, so she can get
S, anything she chooses to ask for,
e bt w but you shall see presently the
use she makes of the privilege
of being wealthy.
ure --- m-- g- .First of all, she is quite un-
selfish, and will give away all the pocket-money she gets, just for
the good it may do the person who receives it. Some rich girls will
give all they have; but then, they think, "Oh, I can get plenty more
to-morrow." Daisy isn't like that, though, and will never accept
more than her proper allowance for each week. If she gets a pres-
ent from her papa or mamma, she never thinks of spending it on
herself, but will say that somebody needs a dress or a petticoat, or
coal, or some of the necessaries of life, "and it will be such a pleas-
ure if I may give it." Her birthday came last week, and what do
you think she asked for when her papa told her she might choose
her present? Well, this was what it was: I should like to adopt
one of the poor children left orphans by the great fire in the city."
Wasn't that kind and good ? Now, don't think that Daisy is one of
these disagreeable children one often reads about in story books;
she can romp and play and dance and sing, and do all her brothers
do. They think a great deal of her, and because she is so good to
them and everybody else, they have christened her Golden Heart."
She is only twelve years old, but she is so quick and clever that she

_. .....----


"Golden Heart."


can often help them with their lessons; and between you and me-
but this is a secret, mind-she often gets them out of scrapes.
When they have been naughty and are to be punished, she goes
and pleads for them with her papa, who sends for them, and says,
" Boys, I was going to punish you, but I have changed my mind, as
your sister tells me how sorry you are, and that in future you will
-- try to do better." Then they kiss papa
.and Daisy, and off they go. You must
"not think that Mr. Blakestone never
"I %, punishes them when they are naughty,
Sfor that would be a mistake, but he
thinks, with Golden Heart, that very
Soften a quiet talk does a great deal of
Good, and shows children that they
"have been wrong, far more than a pun-
ishment would. Now I want you all
Sto try to be like Daisy, for whether you
are boys or girls, you can learn a lesson
from her, and if you try to be kind and gentle, you will be far hap-
pier children than if you go grumbling through the world, annoying
every one else as well as yourselves.


IF my Treasure you should see, say her loved one greets her!
How does he get on ? says she-say upon my feet, sir I
Is he ill ?" Say, dead am I! But tell her, when, for sorrow,
She, poor thing, begins to cry, that I'll come home to-morrow I


ic UR sister Crissie was very
in t fond of studying all about
seaweeds, so Tom and I made
up our minds that we'd try and
find a particular kind for her,
Which could only be got far out
"", on the Black Rocks. So one
day, when we were tired of
building castles, I proposed
that we should go out there
and look for it. However, just
l as we were talking of going, a
voice behind us said, It ain't safe up there without some one as
knows the place," and looking round we saw a boy who lived in the
village, and who afterwards told us awful tales about people who
had been lost on the rocks because they didn't understand about
" catching the tide." This lad promised to go with us next morn-
ing, as it was too late then for that day, so we arranged to meet him
at ten o'clock.
Now I knew very well that we ought not to go without per-
mission, but I also knew that if I asked, papa would say, "I shall
go with you some day myself; but I was impatient, and like a bad
boy made up my mind to sneak off without asking at all! Tom
was a much better fellow than I, and begged me not to go as it was
wrong. But I soon, put an end to him by calling him a coward;
and poor Tom gave in directly, for if there was one thing he couldn't
bear, it was to be laughed at. When morning came, papa had been
called to the city, mamma was in bed with a headache, and as Cris-
sie had to stay with her, there was nothing to interfere with my


naughty plans. I must here say that the boy did not turn up, so I
insisted on going alone.
So off we went, and in less than twenty minutes the Black
Rocks were reached.
Oh, what a jolly place I cried Tom. This is ten times bet-
ter than the other rocks; and here's no end of seaweed."
Yes, but it's not the right kind," said I. Chriss described it
to mamma very exactly, so I don't think I could mistake it. Come
and help me to look."
We hunted very carefully for a long time, but without success,
till suddenly, with an exclamation of delight, I pulled a long, dark
piece out of one of the deepest pools.
"I am sure this is it!" I cried; "at any rate I never saw any
like it before."
I stooped again to choose a good piece of the seaweed, when a
cry of horror from Tom caused me to look
round. In our busy search, we had forgotten
the tide, and it was coming in rapidly. Al-
ready several of the rocks were covered, and
scarcely a couple of yards left dry between the
cliffs and the sea, while every moment brought
Those splashing, rolling waves a little closer.
S- r I stood for an instant as if fascinated, then
Seizing Tom by the hand, cried, "We must
^ > ^run and we both set off as fast as our legs
would carry us.
But swift as we were, the tide was swifter, and before long we
were running in the water above our ankles, and the wind, which
was full against us, dashed the blinding spray in our faces, and pre-
vented us from seeing where we were going. We struggled bravely
on for a little, till a bigger wave than usual broke near us, and sent
the water rushing up to our knees. Then I gasped out-
It's no use Tom; we can't do it. Come back again and,

- -- -

. .. ... ..

--I-_- _z:

.,,_-'~-The Black Rocks.k~-T


turning, we made our way back to the rocks, where at least there
was a little space still left dry; but that was no place of safety, as
both knew well, for high-water mark was far, far above our heads,
and no way of climbing the steep, dark wall was to be seen.
We must wait here," said I, very low. It can't be long now."
Tom shrank up to my side, pale and trembling.
Ralph," he whispered timidly, don't you think we ought to
say our prayers ? we have been very naughty, you know."
You haven't, Tom," said I, despairingly; it was all my doing
that we came without leave, and now-oh, Tom, I can't stay here
and die!"
If we asked to be forgiven-" still whispered Tom.
I did not answer, but I made no resistance, and we two knelt
down there upon the hard rock, holding each other tight, and prayed
more earnestly than we had ever done before.
A minute after, a great wave dashed up, and flung a cloud of
spray over us, making us cling together, and scream with fear. The
next must surely wash us away altogether, and then-
Keep up!" was shouted near us, and the next thing I knew I
was in my own room, with mamma sitting beside me. Tom was
safe too. I remember starting up and saying, Oh! I was very
naughty, please forgive me;" and then, they told me, I was weeks
ill with a fever before I spoke again. The boy who was to go with
us had been delayed, and seeing us out on the rocks, had come to
our help in a boat; so, thanks to him, we were both saved. You
may depend we have never ceased to be grateful to him for risking
his life for us.

Do you like gooseberries? I can't say I do;
Perhaps you like currants, and raspberries too.
I wish you could come to our country home,
How much in the garden you would like to roam I

~ *^




-.. : -- -"l ... 71

P341. A,
.," . -. .

, -,,, ..'..-.,-*

lo. .I ,

.: IL
-_ ,, ,,"n

~~~~~~~. .. ..-._. .

f4 u.
4 N3#7@
11+ -

.. SI. ,. -. C

.- -.,t.! -, .',4

; V / /L

I ( -

L; 4 -I

~~ Li

.SW VI:.
2't 5 I t