Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Little bright eyes
 The man in the moon
 A birthday queen
 From the sunny south
 Dobbin, the donkey
 Dolly's skates
 Little Miss Mischief
 Pussy's tale
 A day's holiday
 Back Cover

Group Title: Artistic series
Title: Little bright eyes
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00087376/00001
 Material Information
Title: Little bright eyes
Series Title: Father Tuck's "Golden gift" series
Physical Description: 63, 1 p. : ill. ; 26 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Burnside, Helen Marion ( Author, Primary )
Guest, Antony ( Author, Secondary )
Bennett, S. E ( Author, Secondary )
Brundage, Frances, 1854-1937 ( Illustrator )
Bowley, May ( Illustrator )
Taylor, Edith ( Illustrator )
Taylor, Mabel ( Illustrator )
Vredenburg, Edric, b. 1860 ( Editor )
Raphael Tuck & Sons ( Publisher )
Publisher: Raphael Tuck & Sons
Place of Publication: London
New York
Publication Date: c1898
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1898   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1898   ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1898   ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1898
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
France -- Paris
United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: Helen Marion Burnside, Antony Guest, S.E. Bennett &c &c ; illustrated by Frances Brundage, M. Bowley, Edith and Mabel Taylor &c., &c. ; edited by Edric Vredenburg.
General Note: Date of publication from prize inscription.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00087376
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002224111
notis - ALG4372
oclc - 262617002

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Half Title
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Little bright eyes
        Page 5
        Page 6
    The man in the moon
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    A birthday queen
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    From the sunny south
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
    Dobbin, the donkey
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
    Dolly's skates
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
    Little Miss Mischief
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Pussy's tale
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    A day's holiday
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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Little Bright Eyes.

OR eyes of blue and eyes of brown
These pretty tales are written down,
To drive away each naughty frown
From little bright eyes.

And all the pretty pictures, too,
Are drawn to please brown eyes and blue.
What pains we take to gladden you,
Dear little bright eyes !

And when the sun does early set,
Or when the day is very wet,
From out your nursery cupboard get
Your Little Bright Eyes."




Or if your brother is not well,
Just sit beside his bed and tell
The grand adventures that befell
These Little Bright Eyes."

And, so the time will swiftly run,
You'll hardly know the day is done,
And quiet night-time has begun,
Sweet little bright eyes.

And out your nursery candle goes
When, like good children, I suppose
You've said your prayers. Then gently close
Your little bright eyes.

^ *,,

The Man in the Moon.

NCE upon a time there was a little baby who stretched
out her arms and cried for the moon-the beautiful
round moon, looking in at her nursery 'window. As you will
guess, she could not have it.
The baby grew, and became Marguerite-sweet as a
flower, from the top of her curly head to the tips of her
dancing toes.
Still she loved the moon. At night she looked out of her
little casement window at the beautiful moon shining in the


dark sky. As she lay in her little white bed she could see
the moon, and she fancied the kind face of the Man in
the Moon smiled her good-night, and watched her sleeping
where she lay alone. Beautiful moon! She told it all her
little joys and sorrows, and fell asleep to dream that the kind
Man in the Moon came down to play with her.
Marguerite's father, mother, and a little brother she had
never seen, were far away in India. They would come home
some day. Meanwhile, Mar-
guerite lived with kind grand-
mamma, and
made friends
and playmates
of the flowers
in the beauti-
ful garden,
and the birds,
S: and all the
._ I inhabitants of
the field, and
wood, and
Last, but not
least, she had
the Man in the
M Moon.
One morn-


ing Marguerite tripped down the garden path, full of
importance, with a big book under her arm. She did not
loiter to look at anything. Not even her favourite moon
daisies waving in the wind, not even at the black hen, who
had just been put on her nest with fifteen eggs by the
gardener, nor at the twin lambs in the meadow, or Mollie or
Susan, the cows. She went straight on, out of the gate into
the road.
Good-bye, all of you," she said. "I am going, to school.
I am four years old to-day, and grandmamma says I must
learn all about everything."
Goodness me! said the sparrow. Upon my hop that is
I don't believe in over-education myself," said the silly-
faced mamma of the twif lambs. "I like fresh air and
exercise for children," and she smiled at her long-legged
The only school I have met is a school of porpoises,"
said the elegant and travelled swallow. I should not like
our Marguerite to get like a porpoise."
Marguerite will always be beautiful," said the faithful
robin, who was her friend all the year round. Nothing can
spoil her."
The moon daisies sighed sentimentally in the soft breeze,
and the sunflowers tried to peep over the wall to see Mar-
guerite in the road.
"I am very unhappy," said Susan, the black cow. My


calf has been taken away. I thought Marguerite would be
sorry for me; but now she is goalie, I must go and look for my
child." And she broke through the hedge of the kitchen
garden. Mollie, the red-and-white cow, followed, out of
sympathy, of course.
Marguerite soon got to the school, a square red house,
with a green door, and a bright brass knocker and plate-

Principal: Miss WAPPEM."

The eldest young lady of the school. happened to arrive
with Marguerite. She was very kind and grown up, quite
Come with me, little dear," she said; and I'll give
your little handles a nice washy-pash."
My hands are quite clean, thank you," said Marguerite,
with dignity.
Such a lot of children were arriving-little girls with
curly hair, little girls with straight hair, and .one with a long
red pig-tail.
Little boys, too, curly and straight, dark and fair, and one
little Tommy, still in petticoats, who sucked his thumb.
Then the bell rang, and all the children took their places.
Marguerite, of course, as a new pupil, lowest of all, even
below Tommy, who looked sleepy. At the top of the class
stood the girl with the red pig-tail. How clever she must
be Marguerite wondered if all clever girls had red pig-tails.


Lessons went on, the clever girl seemed to know everything
She could answer the questions almost before they were
asked. It must be the pig-tail, and Marguerite, wondering
how she would look with one down her back, and thinking it
was rather like Mollie, the red cow's tail, found she was
getting sleepy. .Tommy had sunk to by-bye on his desk
long ago.
Suddenly she woke up, for Miss Wappem was saying-
Sit down, children, and we'll learn about the MooN "


So, with a
Blackboard, and
Ote t pictures, and
s a diagrams, Miss
S Wappem gave
a lecture on the
She had no
S more interested
i listener than
w littleMarguerite.
The clever girl
m smiled faintly,
as who should
say: "'I know
all that, and a great deal more too."
Tommy, happily, and with no disguise, slept and snored.
Other curly pates wagged with inattentive mischief, and
smooth heads were demure, but vacant. Marguerite was all
eyes and ears, and longing to learn.
Miss Wappem went back to earliest days, millions of
years ago, when the red-hot moon flew away from. its sister
earth into space by itself.
There it spun, like a humming top, till, exhausted by its
own vitality and spurned away by the earth, it retreated
farther into space and died. Now, there it hung, worn out
and dead-its sole mission to regulate the earth's tides.


Then there were lunar pictures-wastes of blue-green
scenery, dreary and lonely.
What a sad, lifeless moon! And no man at all! His nose
was a blue mountain, his eyes were extinct volcanoes, and his
mouth was a yawning chasm.
Why, it might almost as well, as wicked Jane, the house-
maid, had said, be made of green cheese.
Poor Marguerite went home crying-the friend of a
lifetime had gone. There was no Man in the Moon School
was a dreadful place. To-morrow, no doubt, she would learn
that there were no fairies, and the day after that her dollies
were not real babies.
Oh, my Man in the Moon My beautiful moon! she
sobbed, as she ran through the field home.
"Why, Marguerite is crying," said the flowers. There
are dew-drops in her eyes."
That nasty school! I told you so," said the sheep.
"I cried a good deal to-day myself," said the black cow.
"But those peas I got in the kitchen garden were delicious,
and made.me feel better."
The red-and-white cow had eaten some also, for sympathy,
of course.
"I've had worries too," said the black hen. "By day-
light I see these eggs gardener gave me are green, and we
all know what that means."
At any rate, she's not growing like a porpoise yet," said
the graceful swallow.


Night came, and Marguerite cried herself to sleep ; while
the beautiful moon looked down, little disturbed by -Miss
Wappem's lecture, and, surely, the kind eyes seemed to
twinkle; yet no, there was no Man in the Moon, only
craters and volcanoes and-but here Marguerite slept.

Morning light, and sunshine, and sweet roses dancing
against the window pane.
And what was this?. Beside the bed, the dearest little
boy in the world, with round blue eyes, and a very round
yellow head, as round, as round as the MooN.
Oh, dearest of little moonboy playfellows, where did you
come from?"
As you will guess, the little boy was Marguerite's brother,
sent home from India to be her playfellow.
Of course, Marguerite was quite happy now. But of all
the games they had together and all the adventures that
happened I must tell you another time. Only you may be
quite sure that Marguerite soon loved him quite as much as
her old friend THE MAN IN THE MOON.

A Birthday Queen,

A BLITHE Birthday Queen,
Isshe not ?-little Rosie
Is four years of age,
And as sweet as a posy-
She wears a new frock-
With wild rose-buds they've crowned her,
And her cheeks are as pink
As the roses around her.


^ "' To take her down stairs
V Comes her big, merry brother,
For she must be kissed
By the father and mother;
And loaded with gifts,
And kind greetings by dozens,
From uncles and aunts,
And affectionate cousins.


There's a tea-party grand
In the wide breezy meadow,
Where tables are spread
In the sycamore's shadow;
With good things galore
The table is laden,
With a grand Birthday cake,
For the dear little maiden.



Then a haycock is piled
At the table to throne her,
Where Queen of the day
All the company crowned her;
And while they're at tea
Comes a nightingale singing,
And all round their heads
There are butterflies winging.

And at last it is o'er-
All the feasting so splendid,
And then the fair Queen,
By her subjects attended,


Has all the broad field
Full of haycocks to play in,
A world of delight
For small folk to be gay in !

Queen Rose, you must know,
Has a special attendant-
A smart little page,
In blue velvet resplendent,
Who trots by her side,
And each moment assures her,
She's Queen of his heart,
And he deeply adores her!

How sweet is the hay,
With dry clover and grasses,
How joyous the shouts
Of the lads and the lasses,
As round the wide field
They go racing each other,
Or try with the hay
A companion to smother.

Then father comes out
With his violoncello,
And calls the smart page,
Who's a musical fellow,


And plays the guitar-
Then the two play together,
And lead a blithe dance,
In the warm summer weather.

Jigs, hornpipes, and reels,
Foot the light-hearted dancers
(They even insist
On performing the Lancers);

vii %


Till down falls the dew
Of the soft fragrant gloaming,
And mother calls out
That the nurses are coming!

Then round the wee Queen
Swarm the lads and the lasses,
And kiss her Good-night,"
Midst the clovers and grasses;
And soon-very soon-
With her crown of pink roses
Hung over her bed,
Our Queen Rosie reposes!


"I I..." -- ,- .* .'

1. :-<"- .,

From the Sunny South.

W HEN Melina came to live at Briardene, she felt so
very lonely, for Briardene was a great big house
that seemed full of nothing save furniture and servants.
Certainly there was uncle Michael, but uncle Michael was
never visible; he lived chiefly in his bedroom. The doctor
said that gout kept him there; but the butler said it was
temper, and Melina believed the butler. Only Melina did
not dare to say so, except to Dim and Tim.
Nobody came to visit at Briardene, for uncle Michael
had quarrelled with everybody; yes, even with her dear
mamma. But that was because her mamma (who had died
only a year ago) had married an Italian, and a painter.
Melina thought that Italy was a beautiful country-far


nicer and warmer than England-and that the pictures
her father painted were glorious; but uncle Michael had
different views.
Shall I never see uncle Michael ?" Melina asked of
Mrs. Mopes, the housekeeper, after she had lived at
Briardene about six weeks.
"I doubt it,. Missie," answered. Mrs. Mopes. "When
you were expected here, the Squire gave orders that you
were never to enter the west garden, and he uses only
the west rooms and
the west garden.
SAnd I think it just
as well you don't
see him," added
that worthy dame,
S with a sniff. "Wait
.....until your papa
comes for you in the
autumn, my dear;
then we'll see what's
\ -. ? to be done."
"Oh! but that
will be ever so many
.... 'months," cried Me-
(0., -lina, and the beauti-
ful dark eyes grew
moist at the thought


of the endless, lonely days that must transpire ere she dare
laugh, or romp, or sing, as in the, old, old days at Florence.
But to a maiden of seven, life cannot always be spent
in cloud. The summer must come, and with it the sunshine.
So on one of the very brightest summer days, when the birds
were singing, and the bees were humming, and the dear
little lambkins were skipping in the fields, Melina, without
saying a word to anyone, took Dim and Tim for a walk.
Neither Melina nor the puppies had ever been so far from
Briardene before, and, of course, every fresh object that
met their view was wonderful, and took a lot of considering.
Dim tried hard to worry the wild roses, and then wished
she had left them alone. For roses have thorns, and thorns
hurt tongues. So Dim howled. Melina, who was standing
a little way from the puppies, thought that Tim was hurt.
So she took him up in her arms to comfort him, which
was rather rough on Dim, with the thorn prickles in her
But oh! what a glorious day it was How those pups
waddled on, and how their little mistress trotted on-I
cannot tell you how far. Presently, Melina felt tired and
hungry, and so did the puppies. And when the clouds began
to come together and get friendly, and when the sun was not
at all what it had been, poor Melina started crying.
Not so the puppies. Dim ran after her tail, and Tim
sniffed as if he did not care a jot for anything. Then he
chose a tuft of grass, and walked round it, and scratched it


soft, and then plumped down, and went fast asleep on it.
Melina took Dim in her arms for company, and then began
to cry a little louder.
Just then a rough-looking man came up.
What are you crying for, my little girl ?" he said.
Because-I don't know why," wailed Melina.
"And what are you doing with my dog ?" asked the man,
harshly, wrenching Dim from Melina's arms, and walking
away with her.
Melina was too much afraid to follow, or even to speak at
first. But she saw a nice old gentleman coming along, and
when he got near she told him all about it.
And the old gentleman went after the man, and brought
him back.
Give the little girl her dog," he commanded.
But the man would not, no. Dim was a valuable puppy.
"It is my dog, sir," said the man, and said it so decidedly
that the old gentleman looked very severely at Melina.
Are you sure it is your dog, little girl?" he
",Yes, oh yes, sir ; I'm postif it's my dog, and so is Tim,"
pulling the other puppy from under the tuft of grass.
Tim looked round, opened his mouth, and yawned. In a
moment the old gentleman saw the strong puppy likeness
between Dim and Tim.
You said nothing about a second dog, and you'd better
be off about your business," he commanded. Give the little


girl her dog,"
and the old
gentleman said
it so sternly
that the tramp '
Now, where
do you live?" ?
asked the old
gentleman of
Melina, when
her tears were
brushed away,
and Dim and :1h
Tim consented '":. '1
to stop chasing
their tails.
"At Briar-
dene, sir."
Oh You are Squire Manghan's little niece ?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I'm going your way. You may come through
these woods. It is shorter, and more direct. He's a very
cross old man, that Squire," began the stranger, after a
pause, taking Melina's hand, and leading the way through
the wood.
"Oh, drefful," said Melina, shaking her head. "When


my papa comes in the autumn I'm going to ask him to take
me away from here. My papa belongs to Italy, you know,
and he's a grand painter."
"Indeed," said the old gentleman. So you don't like
this cross uncle Michael ?"
"Now, how can I, when I've never seen him ? That's the
silliness of it," Melina went on. "Uncle Michael's got
nobody here to love him, and I've got nobody here to love
me. Now, wouldn't it have been nice if we could have only
lived together and loved each other? I've thought of it
ever so often. Now, if uncle Michael had been a nice old
gentleman like you."
"How do you know I'm nice ?" asked the stranger.
"Because you speak kindly to me, and you saved my
doggie. But we're getting near home, and I shall have to
say good-bye. You had better go out of that gate, please,
and be sure uncle Michael does not catch you."
The old gentleman laughed.
"Well, little girl, if I'm to say good-bye, won't you give
me a kiss ?-remember, I saved your doggie."
Oh, yes, I'll kiss you," said Melina. "Thanks; good-
bye !"

"Well, good gracious Bless me! cried the butler, rub-
bing his spectacles, and looking out of the still-room window.
"Mrs. Mopes, Mrs. Mopes, look here Quick-quick There's
the Squire with little Miss Melina, and he's kissing her."


1 -n(


And that was how Melina became acquainted with her
uncle Michael.
And it was a very good thing they became known to
one another, for uncle Michael has been dreadfully mangled,
Melina avers. Of course, she means maligned. And when
her father did come to Briardene in the autumn, he consented
to the Squire adopting his little girl.

Q/^ c^^^A~

Dobbin, the Donkey.

"- -ISS VIOLET, please come away !" entreated nurse;
-J "those rough boys might throw stones at you-and
you, Miss Amy and Miss Joan, both of you! "
We were crossing the common; we always chose it for
our morning walk, because Violet (she is the youngest)
brought an apple, or a biscuit, and sometimes a carrot for the
poor old donkey which browsed there. We did not know his
name, but we called him Dobbin among ourselves.


It was a poor, thin, old little donkey, too old to work any
more, but the wicked village boys did not think he was too
old for sport, for they would jump on his back and beat him
cruelly. No one seemed to care whether Dobbin suffered or
not, except ourselves.
But he hasn't had the apple!" pleaded Violet, beginning
to cry, because she loved him so.
"How can he have it so far off, and all those horrid boys
pelting him with stones and sticks ? You couldn't go any
nearer, it's even dangerous standing where we are-so do
please come away said nurse.
"Don't cry, Violet! I said, "Amy and I will go to papa
about poor old Dobbin; the cruel boys shall not hurt him any
"It's my donkey," sobbed Violet.
"Yes, darling, we know it's your donkey," said Amy,
kissing her.
Violet always called the donkey hers, but, of course, it
wasn't really; we don't know whose it was. Mamma thinks
a gipsy must have left it to starve on the common. It looked
as if it had been tied to a heavy cart, and its poor body had
been beaten and thumped with a heavy stick, for it had so
little of its coat left.
Tom, our big brother, is coming home from school to-
morrow, so we are going to try and see if we cannot get him
to befriend Dobbin.
All. the little boys at school are nervous of Tom, so


perhaps he can make the village boys afraid to hurt
Directly we reached home, Amy and I ran to the library
to find papa. He is a doctor; he had been up all night with
a patient, so we found him looking very tired and worried.
"Papa, we've decided on Violet's birthday present," I said.
And we want your help," added Amy.
It's something big this time," said I.
"It's tremendous !" said Amy.
"Violet's birthday is a month off yet," papa answered,
yawning. He wasn't at all interested, perhaps he was still
too sleepy.
It was so
difficult to make
papa under-
stand without
exactly tell-
.L ing him. We
wanted him to
make guesses-
such as--"is it
the size of an
orange ?" but
he wouldn't help
us a bit; so at
last I had to


It's an animal, papa, that we want to give her."
What does Violet want to add to the menagerie, now ?"
he asked, quite crossly.
I looked at Amy, and Amy looked at me; we were afraid
to tell him.
"It's no use, I cannot have any more pets in the house."
"But, papa, it couldn't be in the house, like the dogs and
cats-it's a-a donkey I answered.
"A what ?" said papa, sitting very upright.
A donkey-old Dobbin on the common, papa. He is
being beaten to death by those cruel boys, and it makes
Violet cry; you said she oughtn't to cry after her last illness
-didn't you?" I added slily.
Papa was silent a minute, then he frowned.
There's no room for him in the stables ; besides, he must
belong to someone; if we took him it would be highway-
robbery," said papa; "it's not to be dreamed of-run away,
children, don't plague me any more about it, at any rate
not to-day."
So, you see, we had to give it up.
But directly Tom came home we told him about Dobbin,
and how we wished to give him to Violet.
But Vi mustn't ride a kicking animal," said Tom.
He is too old to kick. Oh, Tom! if you would punish
those boys "
Tom laughed.
"I'll have a shot, Joan, shall I ?"


When he
a said that Amy
n. and I rejoiced;
and when we
told him that
S_ there was no
room in the
stables, Tom
"Oh, I will
Soon rig him up
byit l a stable in my
SI eiown tool shed,
v and groom
him myself until the governor comes round."
Tom always had been a slave to Violet since she was
a baby, so now we felt sure we should get Dobbin in
the end.
That very afternoon Tom strode across the common to
look at him.
As usual, the boys were pelting Dobbin with stones, but
he nibbled on, twitching his long ears. A horrid boy, named
Batts, was hitting him on the head.
Now, you little wretch," said Tom,'" what do you mean
by ill-treating a poor beast like this ? "
"It ain't yours," replied the dirty urchin.
"I've a jolly good mind to thrash you," said Tom.


"No you don't-hit one of your own size," said the boy,
The village bully here squared up to Tom.
You keep your hands off him, will yer? "
Tom suddenly gripped him. The bully looked terrified-
Tom was so very strong.
"Let go he shouted, striking wildly at Tom.
What's up now, Musgrove ? said a strange voice behind
us. It was the squire.
"These young imps have injured the old donkey, hurt its
eye with a stick-and I believe I've the culprit here," said
Tom, shaking the bully and throwing him down.
"Poor brute! it would be a kindness to give him to the
knacker," said the squire; "but old Binns would rather
sell him."
Old Binns!
does it belong .-
to him?" cried .". "
Tom. .
"Yes hetold
me the other
day he'd part
with him 'for a
shiner,' but
he's not worth
five shillings," r
said the squire.''I-'


By this time quite a little crowd had gathered. A lot of
little boys said, There's a row on, let's go and see "
What they saw was dear old Dobbin being led home by
Tom-some of the older people cheered Tom, and one said-
"It ain't everyone as would take pity on the poor beast-
but he's got a good home now for the rest of his days, for the
doctor is the kindest-hearted gentleman in the county."
So Dobbin was Violet's birthday present after all! He
looks so sleek and beautiful that you would think he was.
quite young-but it is with happiness, we love him so dearly.


G -- -

."I ~ 4d~ni ~
CI ~ L~-.'Ji

Dolly's Skates.

" TOU know, mother, I do really think I deserve them."
SAnd Dolly's big brown eyes looked up very gravely
into her mother's.
"Oh, and why?" said mother, trying to hide the smile that
would turn the corners of her mouth.
"Because I have saved and saved, you can't think how
hard, and so long, too-I should say it was years. And I
haven't bought anything, no sweets, and no tea-sets, and
Oh yes, you have!" said' mother, looking down very
tenderly at the little face up-turned to hers, and giving
Dolly's hand a little squeeze as they -walked briskly along the
frozen street. You gave Daddy that nice pocket-book on
his birthday, and me that beautiful fuchsia, on mine."

CA" -4k,


"Why, of course;
what's the good of
mothers and daddies
if you can't give them
things ? "
"What, indeed.?" said
her mother. And now
you are going to have
your reward for saving."
Yes," cried Dolly,
nodding her 'little head
till the bright brown
locks shook themselves
loose beneath her pretty
red hood. "Now I am
going to buy my skates
-four shillings and
She said ."four shillings and threepence," because it
sounded so much more important than "' four and three." At
the thought of the purchase she was going- to make, she
began tripping merrily along by her mother's side in little
polka steps, and then suddenly dropped into a very quiet and
well-behaved style of walking.
Oh, I forgot," she said. Nurse says ladies don't dance
in the street. But I am so happy, because I'm going to
learn skating, aren't I, mother?"


She held her little head up very proudly, for it really is a
great and wonderful thing to learn skating when you are.
only six. Why, there was her cousin Nellie only just
beginning to learn, and she, as Dolly said, was almost quite
growed up-sixteen, or some enormous age like that.
"Let us go down here," said mother, and they turned
into a bye street full of poor shabby cottages. It's a short
cut, and the road is sure to be clean in this hard frost."'
They were not quite so merry now, for mother's eyes
were grave and sad as she looked from time to time at the
unwholesome dwellings and the poor shivering people who
came in and out of them; and Dolly, seeing the children
playing in the streets, and noticing what poor shabby clothes
they had, and how few even of them, felt somehow-she
could not understand why-a little ashamed of herself. But
the poor children seemed happy enough, and laughed and
shouted and scampered about. Presently, to her great sur-
prise, Dolly noticed a little girl, rather younger than herself,
running down the street, holding in her arms a lovely wax
doll, dressed in the height of doll's fashion. Just then the
most terrible accident happened. The little girl was step-
ping on to the path, and was so wrapped up in her beautiful
doll that she did not notice she was crossing over a slide
the boys had m.ade. At that moment a boy came flying
down like the wind, and he accidentally knocked the doll
out of her hand. The boy behind him, not having time to
stop himself, stumbled against it, and in recovering himself.


trod right on the doll's face and smashed it to pieces. Just
as he jumped off it, a mischievous fox terrier jumped on,
and seizing the doll in its mouth tore its beautiful clothes
to tatters. The poor little owner of the doll set up a dismal
and dreadful howl, and Dolly felt inclined to cry with her.
She dropped her mother's hand, and ran over to the little
little girl," she cried, I am so very sorry for you."
The little girl stopped howling and looked up surprised that
any one who looked like a fairy put of a story book should
stop to speak to her, and to speak so kindly too.
Who gave it you ? Dolly went on.
I dot her at a treat yast
night," said the little girl, sobbing
a again quite bitterly. "The kind
lady dave it me. O, my booful
dolly-my booful ickle dolly "
Then Dolly ran up to her
mother with tears in her pretty
brown eyes.
Mother," she said,- "I don't
want to buy any nasty skates. I
want to buy that poor
SI -- little girl a new doll."
l So you shall, my
darling," said her
mother. "Is this your


little girl? "
she went on,
turning to a -
respectable \ '
woman who,
at the sound
of crying,
came hurrying
down the
street, drying
her arms on
her apron. --
"Yes, ma'am; t j or
and whatever the poor mite 'ill do without her doll I can't
say. It's cruel hard."
SMy little girl," Dolly's mother went on, "has been
saving up her money to buy herself something; but she tells
me it will make her much happier if she may buy your child
another doll. May she ? "
It's a true lady you are, ma'am, to ask me like that. And
I say God bless your pretty darling for thinking of such
a thing. It will make my Rosie as happy as a bird in spring;
and she don't have more happiness than she can do with."
So Rosie and Dolly and Dolly's mother went off hand in
hand to the toy shop, and there Dolly bought the prettiest,
daintiest doll, with flaxen hair, and clothes that you could
take off and put on again. ,And when Rosie kissed Dolly


and ran away, with her little heart full of joy and pride,
Dolly felt consoled for the loss of the pleasure she had been
looking forward to.
I am the wee-est little bit sorry," she whispered to her
mother, as they trudged back; because I did want the skates
very badly, but I'm much more happier."
When Daddy heard the story, he looked very proud of his
little girl as he bent and asked her.whether she would like
him to give her a pair of skates.


Oh no, no, Daddy, dear," said Dolly. That would
spoil everything."
So Dolly's skates have still to be bought; but she has
begun to save up again for them, and I think she will have
enough to buy them before the next frost comes.

I. --


Little Miss Mischief.

SHE was always called "Little Miss Mischief," although
her real name was "Victoria Dorothea"; but how
could any one ever think of calling anything so roguish and
dimpled by such a grand name. When she was quite a
tiny mite she was so full of pranks and fun, and merry
tricks, that nurse began to speak of her as little Miss
Mischief, and gradually mother, father, and all the big boy
brothers called her so too. Mother used to declare that it was
the boys who led her little darling into mischief, and that if
she had no brothers she would be quiet like other people's
little girls. But the boys said, No, if Victoria Dorothea was
the only person on a desert island she would still always be


up to mischief, trying to paint the trees red, or something
just as funny and impossible." Nursie would brush out Miss
Mischief's curls, put on a clean pinafore, a tidy frock, and
hat, and send her down to the Lodge gate to meet her father
as he came from the station; but somehow, before the Lodge
gate was reached, the pinafore would have become dirty, the
frock torn, and even the straw hat would- look as if it had
been worn for a year instead of a day or two. Father always
tried to look shocked, but when the dirty little face was
raised to his, and the chubby arms squeezed round his neck,
although his collar suffered, he could only return the hug,
At the Lodge lived Miss Mischief's great friend, Janie, the
lodgekeeper's little girl, just the same age, but very different
in everything else. Janie was just as quiet as a little mouse,
and as timid as a little mouse that knows the cat is not far
off ; whereas Miss Mischief did not know what fear was.
One day a very sad thing happened. The lodgekeeper's
wife was hanging out clothes to dry in the back garden,
when she heard a carriage coming down the drive; "Run,
Janie dear, and open the gate," she said; if I don't peg
these things securely the wind will blow them down."
Janie picked up her doll, and walked round to the front
of the cottage.
The sound of wheels came nearer and nearer, and faster
and faster, and, just as the little girl got to the gate, she saw
a horse, harnessed to a trap, come tearing madly down the


drive. It was the butcher's cart, but there was no driver;
while the man was talking to a servant, something had fright-
ened the horse, and it had bolted.
Janie's mother came rushing out when she heard at what a
rate the trap was coming, but she reached the gate too late;
Janie had opened it, but, as the horse tore through, he swerved
aside and knocked the little girl down, so that one wheel went
over her. A leg was broken, and for weeks poor little Janie
had to lie in bed.
Little Miss Mischief was almost heart-broken when she
heard of the accident, and her lips quivered, and tears came
into her eyes whenever anyone spoke of her little friend.
For a long time she was not allowed to go and see her;
but at last, when Janie was getting on nicely, she went to
pay her a visit. The very best doll, and a bunch of hothouse
grapes, were taken as a present, and little Miss Mischief
went herself into the village, and with her very own money
bought a nice Jack-in-the-Box," and a stick of barley sugar
for Janie.
One day, not long after this, little Miss Mischief was lost.
It was the boys' half-holiday, a day which she always loved,
and which never came often enough. All the morning she
had been wandering about the house and garden, helping
cook, the housemaid, and gardener. She called it helping, and
they loved her too much to tell her that it hindered their work
when she put currants into the Irish Stew instead of the cake;
let the pig into the back garden to eat the cabbages, so as to


save Tom the trouble of feeding her; unfastened Rover, the
yard dog, who then went for a walk on his own account with-
out his muzzle, and many other suchlike little jobs.' But when
the boys came home nurse gave a sigh of relief.
Take care of your sister, Master Jack," she said.
"All right, nurse," he shouted back, as he caught hold of
the little girl's hand, and raced over the lawn after Rex
and Phil.
They had a game of .
"hide-and-seek"; the boys
always hid in such grand
places, and little Miss
Mischief hid and sought
with them, until at last she
exclaimed :
"Now I shall hide
quite alone; no, Jack, not
even with you;" and off
she marched, after making
them promise to wait
where they were until she
cried Cuckoo."
The boys waited and
waited, but there was no
call. The minutes went on,
and still no "'Cuckoo." '
"I say, you fellows," ~ '


said Jack at last, "I'm not going to wait any longer; per-
haps she has called and we haven't heard."
So the boys began to search, they hunted high and low,
in the garden, orchard, stables, and house; but no little Miss
Mischief. After that they began to get anxious. Could she
have fallen into the pond in the meadow? Or had she
wandered into the road and been stolen by gipsies? Or
what had become of her ? Mother was frightened too, when
she saw their white, scared
faces; and she, nurse, and
the gardener, joined in the
S search.

We can't fancy
Miss Mischief keep-
ing quiet so long
anywhere," they
said; and began to
hunt still farther
Run down to
the Lodge, and ask
if she has been seen
by anyone there,"
said mother; and off
the boys ran.
They knocked at
the Lodge door. No


;4 ~PLI'


;I 'i

~; \il

.. ~I
I m~a~as~ars~ ;,I


answer. They knocked again, and tried the door, but it was
fastened. Janie's mother at that moment came hurrying up.
'"No," she exclaimed, when she heard what was the
matter, "I've not seen the dear child. I went out an hour
ago, meaning to be back in a few minutes, but a neigh-
bour's baby was taken ill, and I could not leave her. Poor
little Janie, I don't know what she'll think, me leaving her
locked up all this time Why who's she talking to ?"
Oh, here she is-Master Phil, Master Jack," she called
out to the boys, who were already running back up the
Yes, there she was, little Miss Mischief, sitting by her
little friend's side undressing her doll.
"Janie was crying," she explained, "so I came in."
But how," said Janie's mother, when I had locked the
door ?"


Oh, I climbed up, and got through the window," said
Victoria Dorothea calmly.
Oh, little Miss Mischief, when will you leave off being a
Tom-boy and a pickle," said her mother when she had her
little: daughter safely in her arms once more.
>t--p /? ^%^-

2`-JLI cLr~



Pussy's Tale.

" itHAT a lovely Persian Those are the first words
that I can remember my aunt saying. She took
me in her arms and kissed me, admiring my beautiful ruff and
tail, and my dainty ways, and I felt a kindly feeling towards
her from that moment.
There was great excitement in my uncle's studio on the
day of the wedding.
He was dressed all in his best, and was bustling about
with boxes and portmanteaux, and my aunt was so agitated
that her hand trembled when she stroked mb. They are
not really my uncle and aunt, though they always say .they
are; but, of course, no one believes them. They are well
enough, but they have not the dignity and style that belong
to Persian blood.
The fact was that they were going to be married secretly.


I was in the secret, for I had often listened to their conversa-
tion in the studio when I was curled up on a cushion, or on
my aunt's lap, and they thought I was asleep; and Elsie-she
was my uncle's little sister-was in the secret too. They
were just about to start for the church, when there was a
loud double-knock at the door. My aunt peeped out of the
"It's father," she exclaimed, "what shall we do ?"
They looked at each other for a moment in consternation.
"I'll tell the girl
not to open the door,"
said my uncle.
/Y- But it was too late.
A handsome old gen-
tleman, with *white
1 whiskers, and a white
waistcoat-not nearly
so becoming as mine-
and a very red face,
Bounced into the room.
I/I immediately
Jumped on my uncle's
shoulder, for safety.
What are you
doing here?" shouted
the old gentleman,
glaring at his


daughter, but taking
no notice of my
uncle and me.
She burst into
tears. My uncle
"It is useless to
conceal our inten-
tions any longer,
Major; your daugh-
ter and I are going
to be married this
You will do
nothing of the sort,"
said the Major; ;
"fortunately, I am
just in time to stop
"You cannot carry her away by force," said my uncle;
" our arrangements are complete, and nothing can alter our
"I will go to the church and forbid the banns. I will have
the law on you! spluttered the enraged Major.
At this moment, just when the conversation was growing
interesting, Elsie took me from my uncle's shoulder, and
carried me into another room.


"He wants her to marry Mr. Jenkins, because he is so
rich," said Elsie; but you won't let them separate your uncle
and aunt, will you, Pussy, dear ?"
Of course not! Jenkins was a clumsy creature -who
sometimes stumbled over me, and would not stroke me for
fear I should scratch him, as, indeed, I often felt inclined to.
"Now listen to me, Pussy," continued Elsie; "the Major
is a very vain old
gentleman, a regu-
II lar old dandy; he
thinks more of his

appearance than
anything else in
the world."
I knew this
very well. I had
often thought his
i vanity ridiculous.
S"Well," said
Elsie-she is a
mischievous little
person, is Elsie,
and as sharp as a
needle, though she
knows how to look
innocent almost as


well as I do. Well," she said, "do you know how we can
prevent him from going to the church and interfering with
the marriage ?" Elsie laughed aloud.
Oh! it will be such fun, Pussy," she said.
I purred in sympathetic approval while Elsie told me her
scheme in a whisper, which was every now and then inter-
rupted by a burst of laughter. Then we went back into the
studio, where the angry party were still disputing.
I am determined never to marry Mr. Jenkins," my aunt
was tearfully declaring.
The Major sat down with an air of decision, having first
carefully dusted the chair with his handkerchief, for the studio
had a general aspect of untidiness that morning.
"Then you shall not marry anyone," he said; "I will
take care to prevent it."
You may make a scene, but you cannot prevent the
ceremony," said my uncle.
"Oh! I could not bear a scene," exclaimed my aunt.
Meanwhile, Elsie had quietly taken down my uncle's
palette from a nail on the wall. In the ordinary way I
cannot endure paint, it is so sticky, it smells so nasty, and it
is so troublesome to get off if you accidentally get a little on
your tail. That is one of the disadvantages of living with an
artist. But I had made up my mind to the sacrifice, so I let
Elsie dab one of my paws in the Prussian blue, another in the
burnt sienna, a third in the vermillion, and a fourth in the
light red.


I'll get it all off for you, Pussy," she said, encouragingly.
Then I leapt straight from the palette to the Major's knee,
and purred in my most engaging fashion.
To make a pretence of coolness, he began to pet me in a
mechanical sort of way, while my uncle was consoling my
aunt. I climbed up the Major's white waistcoat and got on
his shoulder, continuing to purr loudly, and all the time
playfully tapping his white whiskers and his cheeks with my
paws, of course, taking care to keep my gloves on. This is
one of my little tricks for creating a good impression on
people. The Major took to it very quietly, and, when I had
thoroughly done both sides, I jumped down and returned to
Elsie, who hugged me with delight, while she vainly strove
to suppress her laughter.
"We must go now, dear," said my uncle to my aunt.
And I shall go with you," cried the Major.
My uncle and aunt turned towards him to make a last
appeal. At first their faces wore a look of apprehension. No
doubt they thought he was suffering from some terrible and
unknown disease. Then they smiled.
"What are you laughing at?" asked the Major, in
a fury.
Look at yourself in the glass," said my uncle, who could
contain his mirth no longer.
The Major stepped to the mirror, and on seeing his appear-
ance, indulged in such a terrible outburst that I thought it
discreet to hide behind a distant canvas.


"It's that con-
founded cat," he
roared. "I can't P-
go out like this! "
S"If you do,
you'll be taken
straight off to a
lunatic asylum,"
said my uncle.
"You'll find plenty
of turpentine in
the studio. The C
paint will all come
off in time. Good-- .
bye, I hope you
will manage to
get clean by the time we are back."
My uncle and aunt hurried away to the church, and Elsie
and I left the Major, who was furiously wiping his face and
clothes with a cloth, and improving on my workmanship
generally by spreading the mess over a wider area. How we
purred and chuckled when we were alone !
It took Elsie quite a long time to get me clean, and I felt
miserable while she was doing it, for I loathe soap and water,
even when it is warm. But she packed me up comfortably
in front of the kitchen fire, and I soon got dry; and when I
had had some fish, as a reward, I felt all right.


It was a long time before the Major forgave my uncle and
aunt, who, I am glad to say, are properly grateful to me, and
tell all their friends that I arranged their marriage for them.
This induces people to pet me, and give me delicacies. Still,
I have no doubt I could coax them just as well, even if they
did not know the story of my heroic self sacrifice.


;- ;

A Day's Holiday!

Y OU may have heard of St. Luke's summer-those lovely
summer-like days which we appreciate, perhaps, all
the more for having had just a taste of the coming winter
cold. Well, it was on one of these sunny autumn days that
Herbert Fanshawe was lucky enough to have a whole holiday
before him, and he had begged a holiday for his sister, Gwen-
doline-not, as he said, that she much wanted it, for was she
not taught at home by Aunt Meg, which was like having a
sort of holiday all the year round! Gwendoline herself by
no means shared his opinion, and considered that Aunt Meg
kept her very closely at it. Anyway, she was glad of the
holiday, and so was Aunt Meg, who declared it was the very
day for taking her sketch book and catching- the autumn


tints. So they were all three going for a day's excursion,
and Aunt Meg was busily tying up packages of daintily cut
sandwiches, which, together with sundry small cakes, she
handed to the children.
So, each man is to carry his own rations?" said Herbert,
with a smile of approval, for boys-polite boys-do come in for
so much carrying on these excursions, and he already had
his fishing-rod and basket to manage. So off they started,
merrily enjoying their three-mile walk on that sunny morning,
with the golden leaves dancing above their heads, and the
dead ones crisply crunching beneath their feet. They soon
reached the river, and Herbert was not long in selecting a
"ripping" place for catching fish. Gwendoline settled
herself with a book near him, and ventured the timidly
expressed hope that presently she "might have a try."
"Why, you'd never care to put the worm on, or take the
fish off the hook-even if you caught one was the angler's
disdainful reply.
Well, you could do that, you know," was the suggestion
hesitatingly made.
Oh, I dare say! was all the answer, perhaps, which
could be expected. But Gwendoline knew her brother's
moods, and wisely determined to tackle him later on, play
him, "like he does the fish," she thought; so she took up her
book and began to read with much diligence; it was not
that she exactly cared for what she was reading, but really she
was so snubbed and sat upon over this matter of .fishing, that


she determined she would remain in ignorance no longer, but
would study the subject. So she repeated over and over
again (for it was dry reading), "The perch is a very good and
bold biting fish, he is one of the fishes of prey, and carries his
teeth in his mouth." Why, good gracious! Where else could
he carry them ? and she shut up the book with an impatient
snap. But she was not going to let slip the knowledge she
had so diligently gleaned; so before it all vanished out of her
head, she called out, in rather an unnecessarily loud voice-
"Had any sport ?"
No! rather snappishly answered her brother; for what
is more irritating to an angler who has caught nothing than
to be asked what he has caught.
"Ah she replied, decidedly, "that's because you've not
got the right sort of bait; you should
have" (and here she began to
speak with great rapidity, s afraid .
was she that
her know- ,
ledge would
"you should .
have the flesh .
of a rabbit -
or cat, cut
small "-(she '
shuddered as


she quoted)-" and mixed with bean-flour, or, if that may not
easily be got, other flour; and put to these sugar and honey,
and beat together in a mortar "-she had to stop a moment
to gasp for breath, just time enough for her brother to say,
contemptuously, What rot! "
Indeed !- then," she said, with great dignity, it's Isaac
Walton who says it. Oh! but I forgot, that was not for
roach, that was for some other fish, but-"
Oh! it's near enough, what's sauce for the goose is sauce
forthe gander with you," said Herbert, not at all impressed
as she thought he would be; really, it seemed little use her
pursuing the study any longer-it was so baffling; and she
felt quite relieved when Herbert suggested, that they should
get in the boat that was moored by the bank, and cross over
to the wood just opposite.
But won't auntie be frightened ?" said Gwendoline,
glancing towards Aunt Meg, who was sketching some little
distance off.
Oh we shall be back before her sketch is finished."
And is it safe ? was her next question, as she stepped
into the boat.
Herbert assured her that it was, and, indeed, one stroke of
the oars brought'them to the other side.
"I do hope we sha'n't see Silly Peter,' said Gwendoline,
as she stepped out of the boat.
Bah who'd care for a crazy dwarf? replied Herbert,
as he fastened the boat to a willow tree, and looked about


for a nice place /
to put in his line. i /' ,
Now, the fish, too,
evidently liked this \ ,
side of the river
best, and Herbert
could have answer-
ed cheerfully the

sport ?" It was
quite difficult to -i ,,,
get him away from 't ""
his rod, though it
was long, long past dinner time, and Gwendoline was impa-
tiently waiting, with their dinner temptingly spread out on the
low bough of the tree on which she was sitting. But he came
at last; and most thoroughly were they enjoying their repast,
feeling like two birds in the tree, when they were startled by
a harsh gurgling laugh just above them, and, looking up, they
saw a large-headed, ugly dwarf, whom they at once knew
must be "Silly Peter." He jumped on a branch close to
them, and began to sing, in a squeaky voice-
"Yah Yah piccaninnies !
Yah Yah chickabiddies !
Am I not a funny little man?
But I hope you like the sight of me,
And are not in any fright of me,
For I'll try to look as pretty as I can."


Hereupon he jumped down and pulled some hideous'
grimaces. Now, Gwendoline, frightened as she was, felt
offended with him for pulling such faces; besides, it was so
rude to interrupt their picnic, so she answered as coolly as
she could-
"No I'm not frightened, and if you want to look pretty
I shouldn't pull such faces if I were you," and then she went
on eating her cake.
Herbert looked up, amazed at his sister's courage; and
for once in his life did not feel her superior.
Perhaps her courage disconcerted and routed the dwarf,
who was said to ape at being more foolish than he really was.
Anyhow, he soon vanished as quickly as he came; but he had
alarmed the children, and they both felt that they had had
enough of picnicking in the wood, so, quickly gathering
up the fishing tackle, they prepared to jump into the boat,
when-oh horror of horrors !--it was floating down the
"'Silly Peter' must have unfastened it," hoarsely whispered
Or perhaps you tied it badly," answered his sister, with
more calmness than she really felt, for the shades of evening
were beginning to come on, and Aunt Meg must have finished
her sketch by this time.
Oh! there is aunt Meg rushing along the path." She
pointed and shouted loudly.
"Oh, hush!" entreated Herbert, "it's no use shouting,


she's so deaf she'll
never hear, and it
will only bring
Well," said
his sister, trying to
comfort him, after
all, we sha'n't be so
badly off as Robin-
son Crusoe, even if
we are here all
night, because there
are two of us, you

But, to their in- AF
finite relief, they All
were not to be left Cdn i) flor
there all night.
They hear the
splashing of oars.
Aunt Meg brings with her a boatman whose sharp eyes
had seen the children cross over. Aunt Meg is so glad to
get them safe and sound that she forgets to scold; indeed,
she kisses them again and again, which is what they certainly
do not deserve.
And for some reason or another Herbert never snubbed
his sister any more



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