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ILL US TR A TEID.
DODD. MEAD & COMPANY,
, P Y
COPYkIGHT 1884, By DODD, MEAD & COMPANV.
Kate stopped on the " steps of the land-ing for a
mo-ment to say, " Be sure
and come for us at half-past five, San-dy," and then ran up af-ter her cous-in, Lou, with-out wait-ing to hear his heart-y "Ay, ay, Miss," as the old sail-or picked up his oars and took his place in the row-er's seat. When the girls had
8 LO U'S MISHAP.
reached the top of the steps they stood for a mo-ment to watch the boat, as, un-der San-dy's firm stroke, it made its way a-cross the har-bor, and in and out a-mong the ships that lay at an-chor, un-til it reached the side of a trim looking yacht. They saw the pain-ter made fast and San-dy scram-ble up the lad-der, leav-ing the boat to rise and fall i-dly on the waves. Then the girls turned and walked up the street.
They were cous-ins. Kate's fa-ther had a yacht, the Sea Gull, and ev-ery sum-mer he made up a par-ty and set out for a month's cruise. There were four la-dies and gen-tlemen on board be-sides him and Kate's mam-ma, and as it would have been rath-er lone-ly for Kate to have had no one with her, she had asked her cous-in Lou, who was on-ly too glad to go.
The girls had had a most beau-ti-ful time. They had been in ev-ery part of the yacht, and once when they were near the fish-ing grounds they had gone off in the small boat with San-dy and two oth-ers of the sail-ors to a fishing smack whose men were draw-ing their nets, and had se-cured some fresh fish for sup-per. It must be pret-ty hard work, they thought, to fish all day as these men did, and their boat did not smell at all pleas-ant-ly.
The girls had not been sea-sick, though they had had some rough weath-er and all the la-dies on board had kept in their berths.
Now they were ly-ing at an-chor in the har-bor of one of the coast cit-ies where they had some school friends. Clara and Maud had been out to the yacht the day be-fore, and
LUu IV 1)I-1lY1I .I- 9
had in-vit-ed them to pass the -
af-ter-noon on shore, where they.were to have a lit-tie par-ty. Lou and Kate were ve-ry glad to go, for they had been on the wa-ter for ten days and a change would be very pleas-ant.
The Sea Gull was to sail that night at six, and so they
10 LOU'S MISHAP.
could not stay to tea as Maud and Clara had asked them; but it was now on-ly two, so that they had more than three hours' pleas-ure be-fore them.
They ran up the street, hand in hand, and soon found Maud's house. On-ly a few of the girls who had been asked had come as yet, but soon they be-gan drop-ping in, two and three at a time, un-til there must have been as. ma-ny as twen-ty.
They played ten-nis for a lit-tle, but that is rath-er hard work for girls, and they liked cro-quet and arch-er-y bet-ter. Then, when they were tired of games they all sat down to-geth-er and told their new friends where they had been on the yacht, and all the strange sights they had seen, and af-ter that they chat-ted a-bout such things as girls talk a-bout and the time flew by, as time al-ways does.
All at once Kate looked at -her watch and cried out, "Why, Lou, it is near-ly half-past five. We must go at once.
It took a lit-tle time to say good-by to ev-ery one, and then it was past the hour ap-point-ed. So the girls ran all the way to the pier and reached it quite out of breath and ve-ry warm.
Af-ter all, they were in time, for though San-dy had left the yacht he was not more than half way to them. They stood near the pier's edge look-ing down at the wa-ter be-. low. Sud-den-ly two dogs who were close to them be-gan to fight, and Lou tried to jump to one side, lost her balance and went o-ver head-long in-to the wa-ter.
Splash! went the wa-ter, and in-to and un-der it out of
LO U'S MISHAP.
sight went Lou. She had giv-en a shriek as she fell, and three or four men ran to her help, but be-fore they had reached the spot from which she had fall-en, Kate had seized a rope that lay coiled at her feet and had thrown it af-ter her friend. It was just in time, for as Lou
came up to the sur-face she heard the rope strike the wa-ter be-side her, and clutched it and held fast for dear life. Two men jumped in-to a boat, andjust as San-dy, who had seen the ac-ci-dent and had rowed with all his might, had reached the land-ing, she was pulled out all wet and be-drag-gled.
12 LOU'S MISHAP.
"It will nev-er do to take her to the yacht so wet," said :San-dy, "she'll get her death of cold."
"Of course not," said a pleas-ant faced man; "my house is just a-cross the road. Hur-ry there and my wife will help you in-to dry clothes in no time. Come this way, ,and he hur-ried them in-to his house.
His wife made great haste to get Lou's things off, but long be-fore all the but-tons were un-but-toned her teeth were chat-ter-ing with cold. "You see we ran, down," explained Kate, "and Lou was ve-ry warm when she fell in."
The wo-man made all the more haste to get off Lou's clothes, and soon had her in bed. Then she made her .drink some hot tea, which for-tu-nate-ly was on the stove, .and mean-time sent her hus-band for the doc-tor. San-dy tad rowed back to the yacht, and Kate's mamin-ma and
-pa-pa were on their way shore-ward.
Lou felt much bet-ter when she had been rubbed hard with a rough tow-el, and was safe-ly tucked in-to bed. The .doc-tor came in a min-ute or two, for he lived close by, and
_gave her a lit-tle med-i-cine, and her un-cle and aunt were soon with her. She felt some-what tired by all she had been through with, and so, as she seemed drow-sy they left her a-lone and she soon fell a-sleep. Kate bu-sied her-self in hang-ing up all the wet clothes on a horse be-fore
-the fire, and by the time that Lou waked they were all dry for her to put on.
She seemed quite as well as ev-er when she was a-wake, :and so she was dressed, and af-ter they had all said good-by ,to the friends who had been so good to them, they made
LOU'S MISHAP. I3
their way back to the yacht. Lou took care where she stepped this time, and San-dy said showed that one could get drowned much more land than at sea.
The Sea Gull did not ,,
get out of the har-bor that night, but the first I
rays of the ris-ing sun
leav-ing be-hind her the ci-ty. deck there was noth-ing but a mark the spot where it stood.
to no-tice that it all eas-i-ly on,.
tne next morn-ing shone on her sails as she lay 0-ver to the fresh breeze, and dainti-ly danced o-ver the waves, When the girls came on. dis-tant cloud of smoke to
4 THE MO USE.
The fate of this poor mouse seems to be sealed. Kit-ty looks at 'him ve-ry hun-gri-ly, and the boy and girl do not show any pi-ty for him in their fa-ces. So I see no hope for him un-less when he is let out he is quick-er than Puss .and finds a hole to hide'in.
SONG OF THE BIRDS.
.Man-y voi-ces in the
Strike on the de-light-ed
Voi-ces from the trees
Singing to the o-pen-ing
Notes that seem
to come from
and sky so near.
git-tle birds, se-rene and
Sure-ly, in your up-ward
Ye are touched with Heaven's glo-ry,
Ye are bathed in Heaven's
And its col-ors and its
Make you crea-tures of delight.
SONG OF THE BIRDS.
Hum-ming bird and state-ly par-rot, On your crests and on your wings Rain-bow hues are ev-er chang-ing, Rain-bow beau-ty ev-er clings; Have you vis-it-ed the rain-bow, Pret-ty, spark-ling, paint-ed things?
SONG OF THE PIRDS. 17
Tell me, scar-let col-ored her-on,
Whose re-splen-dent plumage vies
With the glo-ry of the morn-ing Just be-fore the
sun-beams rise, Is indeed your
ra-di-ant col-or Sto-len from the
East-ern skies ?
Lit-tle rob-in, little rob-in,
Is the glow up-on your breast On-ly the re-flected splen-dor
Of the sun-set in the west ? Has the sun-set
tinged your bosom,
Lit-tie bird that I love best ?
But the lit - tle hum-ble crea- i
tures,_Ve-ry sweet their .-vol-ces tool N -
18 SONG OF THE BIRDS.
Who are wrapped in rus-set man-ties,
Like the clouds of som-ber hue,Do you think be-neath that shad-ow
Is a garb of heav-en's own blue?
Do you think, to an-gels' glan-ces
They are clad like shin-ing flow-ers,
And their hues are on-ly gloom-y
Un-to eyes as dull as ours?
Oh, that we had hum-bler spir-its, Pu-rer hearts, and keen-er pow-ers.
Lit-tle voi-ces in the wood-lands,
Lit-tle crea-tures in the air,
Sweet it is at morn and ev-en-ing,
Mu-sic float-ing ev-ery-where; Dear to me your lit-tle voices,
Kind-ling hope and sooth-ing care.
AUTHOR OF POEMS WRITTEN FOR A CHILD.
These young ducks have come wad-dling down to the pool to drink but find it fro-zen. They find five or six birds there and are quack-ing out their sur-prise that such lit-tle birds should dare to go a-bout alone with-out a mamma at least as big as their own.
Maud's pa-pa had failed. Maud did not know what that meant, but she was sure that it was some-thing ve-ry bad, for pa-pa came home in the ev-en-ing look-ing most un-hap-py, and sat all the time with his head in his hands.
But the next morn-ing she found out what it meant, for her mam-ma told her that they would have to leave their nice house, for that and ev-ery thing in it would have to be sold, and they would have to live in a small cot-tage which had once be-longed to Maud's grand-mam-ma.,
"Well," said Maud, who was too young to know very much of the change that was to come, " well, I think it will not be so bad at Rose Cot-tage. I was there once, and there is a love-ly fiel dfor Kit-ty, and a nice sta-ble, too."
Kit-ty was the lit-tle bay mare, Maud's es-pe-cial pet. She was so gen-tle that she could do any thing with her, and with all her gen-tle-ness she was a spir-it-ed lit-tle beast and could get over the road much fast-er than ma-ny a. larg-er horse.
" But, my dear," said her mam-ma, " we shall not have Kit-ty. She will have to be sold."
" Sell Kit-ty," said Maud, "why, mam-ma, she's one of the fam-i-ly," and the lit-tle girl wept and wailed most bit-ter-ly.
But there was no help for it. Pa-pa said that ev-ery thing would have to be sold and Kit-ty with the rest. Maud's tears could not save the horse. Men came in a
day or two and made lists of the things, and Kit-ty was put down with the rest.
Maud cried her-self to sleep that night, and when her pa-pa went in-to her room to kiss her be-fore he went to ,bed, he found her cheek all wet with tears.
The day of the sale came at last. Kit-ty had a tag tied
,on her hal-ter, "Lot 96." Mam-ma and Maud did not stay in the house while the sale was go-ing on; Maud led Kit-ty out of the sta-ble in-to the gar-den, and she and her inam-ma fed her with green grass, and Kit-ty, not knowing what was to be-fall her, ate a-way with all her might and had a ve-ry good time. Mam-ma was al-most as fond
of her as Maud, and felt sad e-nough to think of los-ingher, but there seemed to be no help for it.
By and by a man came and took the horse, say-ing that her turn to be sold would come in a few min-utes. Then Maud and her mam-ma took a stroll down the lane, for they could not bear to see what be-came of their pet.
They were gone for an hour, and when they came back the sale.was o-ver. Kit-ty was off to her new own-er, and. carts were tak-ing out of the house the fur-ni-ture that had been sold. The rooms looked emp-ty and bare, and Maud said that she was glad that she had seen it in such con-fusion, for now the new cot-tage would seem ev-er so much bright-er and pleas-ant-er.
They went up stairs to mam-ma's room, where they were to sleep that night. Noth-ing had been touched there, for they were to take all the fur-nish-ings in that room to their new home. Mam-ma sat by the win-dow, which was o-pen, and Maud drew up a lit-tle stool and sat at her feet. She was quite im-pa-tient now to get to the new home, and was, plan-ning to have one cor-ner of the gar-den all to her-self. She had learned, too, that there was a lit-tle girl just her own age who lived quite near. She knew noth-ing of her, ex-cept that her name was Bell, and that her hair was ve-ry dark while her own was light. "I won-der if she is nice,'" said Maud, a doz-en times o-ver.
By and by they had tea, in which pa-pa joined them. It was not a ve-ry cheer-ful meal, for they had on-ly bread and tea, be-cause the serv-ants had been sent a-way, and the house was so up-turned, but Maud was quite hun-gry
and chat-ted a-way, tell-ing her pa-pa how pleas-ant she meant to make her own room in the new home. It was a ti-ny room up un-der the roof, but it had a big win-dow with a broad seat, where Maud could curl her-self up and look down the high-way to the val-ley be-low.
As soon as they had had their break-fast the next morning, the cab came to take them to the rail-way. Rose Cottage was on-ly ten miles a-way, and Maud and her mam-ma were to go to it by train while the fur-ni-ture was to be packed in a big van and dragged all the way by hors-es.
Their lug-gage was all piled on top, and at last they were off, al-though her mam-ma had to wait a few min-utes for Maud, who wished to take a last look at all her old fa-vor-ite spots. Soon they were in the train, and in an hour from the time they left their old home they were just en-ter-ing the new. There was the green field stretch-ing a-way at the back which Maud had said would be so nice for Kit-ty. She looked at it, and what was that she saw? A lit-tle horse, and it seemed to her just like Kit-ty. " Mam-ma," she cried, "look there." The horse heard her voice and lift-ed up her head and trot-ted toward them. It was Kit-ty and no oth-er. On her hal-ter was a tag, and on this they read, "A pres-ent for Maud from a friend."
Maud's de-light knew no bounds. She hugged first her mam-ma and then Kit-ty. The horse seemed as pleased as she. She rubbed her nose a-gainst her, can-tered a-round the field and came back to her a-gain. Maud de-clared that now she was per-fect-ly hap-py, and she fol-lowed her mamma in and went up to her own room with great de-light.
The room was quite as pleas-ant and Maud was soon as hap-py in her old. Bell turned out to be the
as she had ex-pect-ed, her new home as in ve-ry nic-est kind of a
girl, and they played to-geth-er ev-ery day. Of-ten they took drives be-hind Kit-ty, for her cart had come with her and she was quite as pleased as Maud with her new home.
26 THE SICK CHILD.
THE SICK CHILD.
Bird are you sing-ing to me
Perched on my own win-dow-sill? Can you, in your lit-tie brain, Knowl-edge have and thought re-tain, That I am ly-ing here in pain,
Weary, weak, and ill?
Is that pret-ty mu-sic mine?
Sweet-er I have nev-er heard; As each pleas-ant lit-tie note Leaps from your ex-ul-tant throat, Like the sun they seem to shine,
Oh! you friend-ly bird!
Bird, are-you sing-ing to me?
Sing-ing of wood and of dell? Of the flow-ers I used to take, Of the nut trees I would shake, Of the fish-ing on the lake,
Have you come to tell? Sing-ing, sing-ing joy-ful-ly,
Joy-ful-ly my heart is stirred. None so blithe and brave as I, Stan-ding 'neath my own blue sky, Such the dream you bring to me,
You de-light-ful bird.
28 TOM HUNT.
Bird, are you sing-ing to me ?
Ah! but the win-ter is near!
Then your foot will find no rest,
And the snow will be your nest;.
You will seek, with beak dis-trest,
Food that is not here.
Faith-ful to our friend-ship IYou may take me at my wordBread and milk shall greet you still
At the pleas-ant win-dow sill, That you nev-er yet flew by,
Dar-ling lit-tle bird.
AUTHOR OF POEMS WRITTEN FOR A CHILD.
Tom Hunt went fish-ing one af-ter-noon. He borrowed his fa-ther's boat and his bas-ket and lines. Then he pad-dled out and tied fast to a stake and bait-ed his hooks. Then he sat down and wait-ed for a bite. But not a fish came near him. And be-fore he knew it he was fast a-sleep. He slept so sound-ly that a king-fish-er came and light-ed on the bow, look-ing for his din-ner in the wa-ter be-low and nev-er dream-ing that a-ny one, least of all a boy, was with-in a mile of him. The king-fish-er did not seem to have any bet-ter luck than Tom, and he looked as if he was a-sleep, too. But I fan-cy that if a-ny lit-tle
.30 TOM HUNT.
min-now had sailed by, think-ing that the bird was in the land of Nod, he would soon have found out his mis-take.
To-by, Tom's pug dog, missed his mas-ter and hunt-ed ev-ery-where for him. He ev-en came down to the stream :and barked, in hopes of hear-ing an an-swer-ing whis-tle.
But though he sniv-eled up his nose and sniffed up the air, not a trace of him could To-by smell, for his mas-ter was too far a-way.
Jack, his great friend, came o-ver to ask him to come and help gath-er ap-ples, for his pa-pa had said that the har-vest ap-ples were ripe, and that the boys might pick them. But
TOM HUNT. 31
Jack could not find him, for he had told no one that he was go-ing fish-ing, and no one had seen him when he set out. So Jack went home to gather the fruit a-lone.
At last, when Tom had been a-sleep a cou-ple of hours, a big and hun-gry fish came a-long. He saw the bait and swallowed it in a min-ute. Then he swam a-way with the hook !,
fast in his mouth. The float , went un-der and he gave such a hard twitch at the pole that it rat-tled a-bout in the boat and made a good deal of noise.
Tom woke up just in time to see the pole jump out of the boat and sail a-way. He untied his boat and pad-dled after it, but the fish was much fas-ter than he and he never saw the pole a-gain. And so he went home and won-dered what his pa-pa would say when he knew his pole was lost.
32 THE VOICE OF THE GRASS.
,. , ,4,
THE VOICE OF THE GRASS.
Here I come creep-ing, Creep-ing ev-ery-where; By the dust-y road-side, On the sun-ny hill-side, S Close by the nois-y brook, ,. In ev-ery sha-dy nook, I come creep-ing, Creep-ing ev-ery-where. Here I come creep-ing, Smil-ing ev-ery-where;
All round the o-pen door, Where sit the a-ged poor; Here where the chil-dren ~play,
In the bright and mer-ry May,
. ., I come creep-ing,
-- Creep-ing ev-ery-where.
THE VOICE OF THE GRASS. 33
Here I come creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where;
In the nois-y ci-ty street
My pleas-ant face you'll meet,
Cheer-ing the sick at heart
Toil-ing his bu-sy partSi-lent-ly creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where.
Here I come creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where;
You can not see me com-ing,
Nor hear my low sweet hum-ming;
For in the star-ry night,
And the glad morn-ing light,
I come qui-et-ly, creep-ing ev-ery-where.
Here I come creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where;
More wel-come than the flow-ers
In Sum-mer's pleas-ant hours;
The gen-tle cow is glad,
And the mer-ry bird not sad,
To see me creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where.
Here I come creep-ing, creep-ing ev-ery-where;
My hum-ble song of praise,
Most joy-fully I raise
To Him at whose com-mand
I beau-ti-fy the land
Creep-ing, si-lent-ly creep-ing, ev-ery-where.
I TED BLACK
It was al-most Christ-mas A time, and ev-ery night lit-tle
Ted Black dreamed of San-ta Claus. When his small head was on the pil-low, you might have thought it at rest, but no, it was hard at work. It was build-ing great Christ-mas trees on which hung all man-ner of beau-ti-ful things, while half-adoz-en girls and boys climbed
up the branch-es and took down the stuffed stock-ings that hung
Ted thought that Christ-mas would never come, time went so slowly.
But it did come at last, and Ted found in his stock-ing ma-ny a nice thing.
TED _BLACK 35
I can-not stop to tell you what they were, but there was one that he liked very much, and that was a pair of skates. There was a pond in plain sight from his house, and there
Mas-ter Ted meant to try them. He was on-ly a lit-tie .shav-er, but he could skate a bit al-rea-dy.
Whew! how cold it was. The ground was cov-ered with snow, and the birds who could find nothing to eat
came hop-ping about the kitch-en door, glad e-nough of the crumbs that
cook threw out to
them. Those who 7
lived in the woods,
V " and had no friends to help them, had to hop
a-bout on the snow or sit on the branch-es of the trees to keep them-selves warm, and
ihope that the weath-er would change for
_the bet-ter soon.
But Ted did not care for the cold, not
he. When he saw the new skates in his Christ-mas stock-ing he gave a squeal of
36 TED BLACK.
de-light. He want-ed to skate all the morn-ing, but his mam-ma said that he must wait un-til to-mor-row, for his cous-in Madge was com-ing to spend the day with him.
But the next af-ter-noon he was down at the pond as soon as din-ner was, o-ver, and soon had on the new skates.
There were a good
_ . ma-ny peo-ple on the
- - pond, and so his mam-.
ma did not feel a-fraid to have him go alone. q Be-sides, from her window she could watch him un-less he went ve-ry far a-way. Mas-ter Ted had a fine time. He quite de-spised people who did not have skates, and who thought slid-ing fun. He dart-ed a-bout from one side of the pond to the oth-er in fine style, and at last start-ed off for a trip up the lake.
Mean-time the clouds had been gath-er-ing and it had begun to snow. The flakes came --down, at first light-ly, then they grew thick-er and thick-er un-til they shut out the view.
Ted's mam-ma was ve-ry much
wor-ried that he did not come '-
TED BLA CK. 7
He was o-ver-joyed to was ve-ry great and he snow cry-ing, for he was on-ly a lit-tle boy, and he was fright-ened at being a-lone.
His pa-pa picked him up and car-ried him home in no time, but he could not skate a-ny more that win-ter because his an-kle was so weak.
home, and she was glad e-nough when she saw his pa-pa com - ing to the house through the blind-ing snow. His pa-pa set out at once to find his
__ boy, and it was
well that he did, for Mas-ter Ted had twist-ed his ankle so that he could
see his pa-pa com-ing, for the pain was ly-ing at full length on the
38 A HUNGRY VISITOR.
A HUNGRY VISITOR.
A starved lit-tle Rob-in sat perched on a spray, While Ma-ry was eat-ing her break-fast one day, The room was so warm and the food was so nice, While poor lit-tie Rob-in felt cold-er than ice, He hopped from the spray to the broad win-dow sill, And tapped on the glass with his sharp lit-tle bill.
When Ma-ry dis-cov-ered his bright search-ing eyes, It gave her-oh! such a de-light-ful sur-prise. She ran to the win-dow and o-pened it wide: You dear lit-tle dar-ling, oh! do come in-side. He en-tered at once, for you see he was cold, And hun-ger had made him both fear-less and bold.
He pecked at the loaf, and the but-ter he ate, De-vour-ing his food at a ter-ri-ble rate. And what did he next ? Just as bold as could be, He at-tempt-ed to bathe in a sau-cer of tea. Thus fed and re-freshed, he next pol-ished his bill, And stepped like a gen-tle-man out on the sill.
Now Ma-ry most ear-nest-ly wished him to stay, It vexed her to think of his fly-ing a-way; She had an old cage which had once held a lin-net, Though for days and for weeks there had been noth-ing in it.
A H UNGRY VISITOR. 39
Do stay, lit-tle Ro-bin, she cried
The gar-den is cold, not a scrap
you'll find there.
But Ro-bin looked back
and his look seemed
to say, y
I'd rath-er go now; but
some oth-er cold day
I'll glad-ly re-turn and
par-take of your food, For real-ly I find it remark-a-bly good.
I'm thank-ful to know 8
there are chil - dren
Who'll feed a poor Robin and corn-fort him
40 JA CK AND VILL.
JACK AND WILL.
Jack and Will had a hol-iday, and they de-ci-ded they would spend the whole day fish-ing. They would go to Mea-dow Brook and take their din-ner with them, and not come home un-til sup-per time. So they took their lines and start-ed off down the road. "Be sure," said their fa-ther, as they start-ed, "to go by the road, and do not come home a-cross Squire Hull's fields."
They had a beau-ti-ful time at first. The fish bit well, and they caught sev-er-al big fel-lows. By ten o'clock they were hun-gry.
JACK AND WILL. 41
"What do you say to tak-ing a lunch," said Jack.
Will a-greed, and they de-ci-ded to eat on-ly a lit-tle, but they were so hun-gry that be-fore they knew it they had fin-ished it all.
The fish did not bite so well after that, and the sun grew ve-ry warm, and by one o'clock the boys were hun-gry a-gain.
"Let's go home," said Jack.
"If we cut a-cross lots we could get there in time for din-ner," said Will.
"But pa-pa told us not to," said Jack, "and be-sides there are cows in the field."
"Whose a-fraid of cows," said Will. "Why ev-en lit-tle
JACK AND WILL.
Sis-ter Bess goes out in our field and does-n't mind them at all. They are all gen-tle, I am sure."
So say-ing, Mas-ter Will climbed the fence and Jack fol-lowed.
I have of-ten no-ticed that boys who think that they know more than their pa-rents find them-selves mis-tak-en, and so did Jack and Will. They were ve-ry naugh-ty to dis-o-bey their pa-pa, and they soon found it out.
They had not gone more than half way a-cross the field when Will looked a-round and saw a bull com-ing at them. He was still some dis-tance a-way, but his head was down and he seemed ve-ry fierce.
Close at hand was a tree with branch-es low down. In-to this the two boys clam-bered just in the nick of time. Up came the bull and pawed and tore the ground and bel-lowed, but they were out of his reach and he could not hurt them.
He was very an-gry though, and the boys be-gan to think he would nev-er go. He wan-dered a-way a short dis-tance, but the min-ute they moved he ran back. How hun-gry they grew. It be-came late. Two, three, four o'clock, then five passed. Not a per-son came in sight.'
At last at half past five the bull went a-way to the ve-ry fur-ther side of the field, and the boys got down and made a run for the fence and scram-bled o-ver it out of his reach.
"We had bet-ter have done as pa-pa said," ex-claimed Jack. "Yes," said Will.
But their troub-les were not yet o-ver, for they had still some dis-tance to go, and they felt ve-ry tired and ve-ry hun-gry. They had be-gun a-cross lots, and now they must
JA CK AND WILL. 43
keep on. As they passed a la-bor-er's cottage in one of the fields, a say-age dog ran at them and fright-ened them. Fortu-nate-ly his mis-tress saw him just in time and called him back. But there were nev-er two more thank-ful boys than Jack and Will when they were safe-ly at home and when they had told the sto-ry of their naugh-ti-ness to their pa-pa.
They had had such a fright that he said he thought they had been pun-ished e-nough, and had learned a use-ful lesson, and so they had, for that night when they were get-ting in-to bed I heard Jack say, "Will, I think pa-pa knows bet-ter than we af-ter all, and I'm go-ing to do just as he says af-ter this." "So am I," added Bill.
Won-der-ful white Win-ter!
I must clap my hands at you; You are old and I am cold,
And there's noth-ing else to do. You and I are glad, are glad,
When the snow comes creep-ing
And ice-drops fair leap out of the
To hang on the branch-es brown.
Won-der-ful white Win-ter!
Wave your love-ly snow-white
Sig-nal make till riv-er and lake
Form the ice that is so grand! Oh, the ice is dear, is dear;
Faith-less friend, changed by a
Smooth and sweet to glid-ing feet,
9 Glid-ing o-ver grim death!
Won-der-ful white Win-ter!
I will make a league with you; You must know of want and woe,
Tell me what I ought to do! I must feed your lit-tle birds?
Shel-ter to the home-less lend ?
Coin-fort and aid the poor and a-fraid?
That I will, my brave old friend!
-AUTHOR OF POEMS WRITTEN FOR A CHILD.
Here we have a beg-gar boy with his dog. They both of them look ve-ry poor, but the dog shares all that his. mas-ter gets, and they are the best of friends.
.46 TOM AND SARAH.
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