Mistress Mary

Material Information

Mistress Mary
Lawson, Lizzie
Dodd, Mead & Company ( Publisher )
R. & E. Taylor (Firm)
Place of Publication:
New York
Dodd, Mead & Company
Publication Date:
Physical Description:
46 p. : ill. ; 25 cm.


Subjects / Keywords:
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Animals -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1884 ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1884 ( lcsh )
Baldwin -- 1884
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- New York -- New York
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )


General Note:
Contains prose and verse.
General Note:
Some illustrations engraved by R. & E. Taylor after Lizzie Lawson.
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:

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:
002224258 ( ALEPH )
ALG4519 ( NOTIS )
55688107 ( OCLC )


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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




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


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


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.


"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


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


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.



.Man-y voi-ces in the
Strike on the de-light-ed
Voi-ces from the trees
a-bove us,
Singing to the o-pen-ing
Notes that seem
to come from
Mak-ing earth
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.



\ p1i

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?


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 -


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.

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.




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.


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.


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



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


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.

,. , ,4,

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.


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.


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
from it.
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.


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


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 '-


not stand.
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



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.


Do stay, lit-tle Ro-bin, she cried
in de-spair,
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
like you,
Who'll feed a poor Robin and corn-fort him


~1 1


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.


"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


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


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!

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.


Tom and Sa-rah on their way to sch

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ool have stopped to

speak to a lit-tle boy they know whose name is Pe-ter.


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