ottbt ^nibergttp of iSortfj Carolina TOjfe ftoofe toa* pre^ettteb hi Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill http://archive.org/details/songsstoriesformOOjbli The Little Beggar Girl.— (Page 18.) SONGS AND STORIES, MOTHER'S DARLING PHILADELPHIA : J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 1873. CONTENTS The Eagle Page 9 A Story for Little Boys 13 A Family Scene 16 Thinking of Mercies 18 Who made them? 19 Love and Duty to Parents 21 The Joys of Self-will 22 My Little Pony 25 The Caught Eobin 27 Little Minnie 33 Infant's Prayer 36 James and the Apple 37 Going to Kest 39 Nature's Words to her Pupil 41 Little Lotty 43 My Cousin Florine 45 The Butterfly 47 Little Mary 49 Only Just Inside the Pence 50 The Child's Wish 53 The Idle are always Unhappy . 55 Evening Hymn 60 (Vii) Vlll CONTENTS. Voices ,,... 61 Morning Prayer 63 My Mother's Grave 64 The Sunbeam, Dew-drop, and Rose 66 When I'm a Man 70 Little Things 72 My Younger Sister 73 Cousin Lou 77 Advice in Rhymes 79 I mean to be Good to-day 81 Good Advice for Little Ones 84 A Child's Thoughts 85 Wild Flowers 87 A Story 89 A Good-night Song 91 The Presence of God , 92 Oh, Hark! the Baby Cries 93 The Farmer and his Son 95 Annie 96 The Murmuring Fountain 99 Be Pleasant 104 Evening Prayer 105 Birds in Summer 106 The Two Advisers 109 The Child's Prayer 114 The Canary Bird 115 A Child's Prayer 117 The Strayed Lamb 118 My First and Last Theft 119 Flowers 125 The Little Dormouse 126 SONGS AND STORIES. THE EAGLE. No, not in the meadow, and not on the shore ; And not on the wide heath with i irze covered o'er, Where the cry of the plover, the hum of the bee, Give a feeling of joyful security; (9) 10 THE EAGLE. And not in the wood, where the nightingale's song, From the chesnut and orange pours all the day long; And not where the martin has built in the eaves, And the redbreast e'er covered the children with leaves, Shall ye find the proud eagle ! no, come away; I will show you his dwelling, and point out his prey ! Away ! let us go where the mountains are high, With tall splintered peaks towering into the sky; Where old ruin'd castles are dreary and lone, And seem as if built for a world that is gone; THE EAGLE. 11 There, up on the topmost tower, black as the night, Sits the old monarch eagle in full blaze of light : He is king of these mountains : save him and his mate, No eagle dwells here; he is lonely and great! Look, look how he sits ! with his fierce glancing eye, And his proud head thrown back, looking into the sky ; And hark to the rush of his outspreading wings, Like the coming of tempest, as upward he springs ; And now how the echoing mountains are stirred, For that was the cry of the eagle you heard ! 12 THE EAGLE. Now, see how he soars ! like a speck in the height Of the blue vaulted sky, and now lost in the light ! And now downward he wheels as a shaft from a bow By a strong archer sent, to the valleys below ! And that is the bleat of a lamb of the flock ; — One moment, and he re-ascends to the rock, — Yes, see how the conqueror is winging his way — And his terrible talons are holding their prey ! Great bird of the wilderness ! lonely and proud, With a spirit unbroken, a neck never bowed, With an eye of defiance, august and severe, Who scorn'st an inferior, and hatest a peer, A STORY FOR LITTLE BOYS. 13 What is it that giveth thee beauty and worth ? Thou wert made for the desolate places of earth ; To mate with the tempest, to match with the sea; And God showed his power in the lion and thee! A STORY FOR LITTLE BOYS. There are a great many good boys, and we are sorry to say, many bad ones too. We wish all boys were good ones, then we should have no stories to tell about bad ones. This time we are going to tell you of two boys, one good and the other bad. They both lived in the State of Ohio. Perhaps some of our young readers may know them. 14 A STORY FOR LITTLE BOYS. Charles was the name of the good boy. He was an only son. He was always obe- dient to his parents, and kind to his little sister. One day his mother gave him two apples to take with him to school. He was a kind and generous lad, and on meeting Henry, another boy whom he knew, he politely offered him one of his apples. This boy did not like to go to school nor to read good books. He was very rude, and took the apple with- out thanking Charles for it. And, what was still worse, he knocked the other apple out of his hand into the mud. This was a very unkind act; and what do you think Charles did? What would you do if any one should treat you so? We will tell you what this good boy did. He was quite small, and younger than the naughty boy, yet he did not cry nor lose his A STORY FOR LITTLE BOYS. 15 temper, but stood up calmly and bravely, looking him in the face, and said, kindly, " I think your mother never taught you the Golden Rule." Henry thought he would make Charles angry, and get him to fight, but he was quite mistaken. He thought it strange that a little boy should talk as Charles did, and he turned and asked him what he meant by the Golden Rule. Charles told him that it was, "Do to others as you would have them do to you." On hearing this he looked ashamed and went away ; and we hope he has since become a better boy. Perhaps that was the first time he had ever heard of the Golden Rule. As Charles went on to school he must have felt happy that he had acted so bravely and wisely. Now, little boys, what do you think of 16 A FAMILY SCENE. Charles ? Don't you think he was a braver boy than if he had become angry, and gone to fighting ? Now I want to ask you once more, what would you have done had you been treated as little Charles was ? Would you have said, "I won't stand it; I'll pay him back?" This would not have been " doing good for evil." A FAMILY SCENE. How beautiful it is for children to early form the love and habit of being useful. See how this beauty is set forth in the fol- lowing Family Scene, by Mrs. Sigourney : — u I have lost my whole fortune," said a merchant, as he returned one evening to his home ; " we can no longer keep our carriage ; we must leave this large house. The chil- A FAMILY SCENE. 17 dren can no longer go to expensive schools. Yesterday I was a rich man — to-day, there is nothing that I can call my own." "Dear husband," said the wife, "waare still rich in each other and in our children. Money may pass away, but God has given us a better treasure in the active hands and loving hearts." "Dear father," said the children, " do not look so sober. We will help you to get a living." " What can you do, poor things ?" said he. "You shall see — you shall see!" said se- veral voices. " It is a pity if we have been to school for nothing. How can the father of eight children be poor ? We will work and make you rich again." Such children are true riches to any man. X. — b 2 18 THINKING OF MERCIES. THINKING OF MERCIES. (See Frontispiece.) Whene'er I take my walks abroad. How many poor I see ; What shall I render to my God For all his gifts to me ? Not more than others I deserve, Yet God has given me more ; For I have food, while others starve, Or beg from door to door. How many children in the street Half naked I behold ; While I am clothed from head to feet, And covered from the cold. While some poor creatures scarce can tell Where they may lay their head, [ have a home wherein to dwell, And rest upon my bed. WHO MADE THEM? 19 While others early learn to swear. And curse, and lie, and steal, Lord, I am taught thy name to fear, And do thy holy will. Are these thy favors, day by day, To me above the rest ? Then let me love thee more than they And try to serve thee best. Watts. WHO MADE THEM? " Mother, who made the stars which light The beautiful blue sky ? Who made the moon, so clear and bright, That rises up on high ?" u 'T was God, my child, the glorious One — He formed them by his power; He made alike the brilliant sun, And every leaf and flower. 20 WHO MADE THEM? " He made your little feet to walk, Your sparkling eyes to see, Your busy prattling tongue to talk, Your limbs so light and free. " He paints each fragrant flower that glows With loveliness and bloom ; He gives the violet and the rose Their beauty and perfume. " Our various wants his hands supply, And guard us every hour ; We 're kept beneath his watchful eye, And guided by his power. " Then let your little heart, my love, Its grateful homage pay To this kind Friend who, from above, So gently guides your way." LOYE AND DUTY TO PARENTS. 21 LOVE AND DUTY TO PAKENTS My father, my mother, I know I cannot your kindness repay ; But I hope that, as older I grow, I shall learn your commands to obey. You loved me before I could tell Who it was that so tenderly smiled ; But now that I know it so well, I should be a dutiful child. I 'm sorry that ever I could Be wicked, and give you a pain ; I hope I shall learn to be good, And so never grieve you again. But for fear that I ever should dare From all your commands to depart, Whenever I utter a prayer, I will ask for a dutiful heart. 22 THE JOYS OF SELF-WILL. THE JOYS OF SELF-WILL. " There is no joy in life but in doing just what one pleases," said Conrad. " I don't think so," was the wise answer of his friend Albert. "We shall see," said Conrad. "Now, here is a bitter cold morning; so, as I do not like to be cold, I shall not stir out of the house, but have a fine roaring fire all day, and some clever, witty book to amuse me." Saying this, Conrad slipped on a loose, but warm dressing-gown, poked up the fire, and hung his hat and stick upon the peg behind him. " No cold walking in the mire, no plague of dressing for me ! Here I am snug, and sure of being well and free from aches and ailments." THE JOYS OF SELF-WILL. 23 Albert laughed to see him so selfish and so foolish, and left him. Young Albert was active, and willing to serve and oblige ; so, when he quitted his churlish friend, he walked to see his sick uncle, and to carry him some game he had killed very early in the morning. His uncle was much cheered by this visit and his chat; and whilst he was with him, he wrote some letters, and did many other little matters for his uncle. They dined upon the game, and his uncle said the pheasant Albert brought was the first meat he had tasted for a long while. After dinner, Albert, leaving his uncle better for his visit, went to his father's farm, to give some orders, and took home good accounts of all that was going on there. He then went into his own chamber, and spent two hours in reading a book his father wished him to study. By this time 24 THE JOYS OF SELF-WILL. tea was ready ; and his mother and the little ones were always glad when Albert joined the tea-table, he was so merry, and so handy, and so funny. When tea was over, he took a lesson upon the flute, and, with the help of his master, they had some good music. At nine at night, Albert jumped up, and said, " I will just run down the street and peep at my happy friend Conrad." When he reached his room the door was locked ; so he peeped in at the key-hole, and there he saw the happy Conrad in a fit of rage and shame. His book had been dashed on the floor, and there it lay ; a cup and a bottle of physic stood on the table near him, and he was holding his head, as if it ached very much. The servant said Conrad had been very cold all day for want of exercise, and he had been sick for want of air. " Poor fellow !" cried Albert. " So much for the joys of the selfish and the idle !" MY LITTLE PONY. Hop, hop, hop, nimble as a top, Over hill and valley bounding, With your clinking hoofs resounding Flop, hop, hop, nimble as a top. (25) 26 MY LITTLE PONT. Whoa ! whoa ! whoa ! how like fun you go . stop, you nag, I tell you, tell you ; if you don't, I '11 surely sell you. Whoa ! whoa ! whoa ! how like fun you go. Spare, spare, spare; sure enough, we're there; Yery well, my little pony ; Safe \s our jaunt, though rough and stony: Spare, spare, spare; sure enough, we're there, Here, here, nere ; yes, my pony dear : Now with hay and oats I '11 treat you, And with smiles will ever greet you, Pony dear, yes, my pony dear. THE CAUGHT ROBIN. 27 THE CAUGHT ROBIN. One bright May morning there was an unusual commotion among the birds in the tall old trees in the garden. " What is the matter?" asked little Grace, as she laid down her knife and fork, and suspended her breakfast to listen. " The cat is troubling them, I fear," said her mother. So Grace went to the door and looked around ; but no cat was to be seen, nor could she discover any reason for the excitement among the birds. But the notes of alarm continued so distinct and decisive, that her mother herself stepped out into the yard to investigate the matter. All our little readers know perhaps — certainly all who are acquainted with the habits of that dear household bird — that the robin has several very diverse notes which 28 THE CAUGHT ROBIN. it utters as occasion requires. There is its beautiful warble, which is always so cheering and gladsome, particularly after a summer shower, when it seems in such delightful harmony with the refreshed and smiling appearance which the earth presents. Its brooding note is pleasant too, as it hops and nutters about in the vicinity of its beloved nest and nestlings ; but the note of alarm is shrill and startling, so expressive too that no one can hear it without perceiving that the bird has some cause of affright or trouble. She utters it when she sees a cruel boy or girl, cat or snake, approaching her nest. Round and round she flies, perching for an instant here and there, while she repeats her accent of distress louder and shriller, as she sees inroads made upon her best treasures, her eggs or little ones. She utters it when- THE CAUGHT ROBIN. 29 ever any thing occurs to frighten or give her anxiety ; and it was this sound, often repeated, which attracted the attention of Grace and her mother. Her mother passed from the front yard by a side gate into the garden. When she came to a small peach-tree which stood near this gate, she stopped and called Grace. " Softly, dear, but come quickly." The little girl was at her side in a moment. " Do you see this ? Here is the occasion of all this distress," and she pointed to a large robin which had one of its feet en- tangled in a loop of twine attached to the tree, and had almost wearied itself to death in fruitless flutterings to liberate itself. " Poor thing," exclaimed Grace, and she tried to reach up to the branch where it hung, but was not quite tall enough. So her 3 30 THE CAUGHT ROBIN. mother gently caught the robin and dis- engaged its limb from the twine. " mother," cried Grace, " give it to me, pray do ; mayn't I tame it, and keep it in a cage for my own ? Yes, mother, do let me have it." " And would you like to shut up this dear robin in a cage, and inflict so much pain and privation upon it, just because an accident has placed it in your power ? Only listen to the distressed notes of its mate, flitting so uneasily about us. Could you have the heart to do it, Grace ?" But Grace looked undecided ; she glanced at the serious face of her mother, and then longingly at the robin she held in her hand. " I would be very kind to it ; I wouldn't hurt it for anything," said the little girl. " I know, dear, you wouldn't intentionally inflict pain upon it," replied her mother; THE CAUGHT ROBIN. 31 "but don't you suppose such privation and confinement would be very distressing to it ? Suppose, after having had unlimited freedom out of doors, you were to be shut up in a little room not larger than our pew at church ; and after having been permitted to pick and eat all the fruit and berries you wanted anywhere, you were to be put on a very short allowance of such food as you did not like — perhaps forgotten altogether some days — would you not think this treat- ment very hard and cruel ? And yet this is just what you propose doing to this poor bird, which was made to fly abroad in God's beautiful blue firmament. Do you think it would be right ?" The tears stood in Grace's eyes. " No, mother, I see it would not. I am glad to have the robin restored to its liberty; but just let me take it in my hand a minute first." 32 THE CAUGHT ROBIN. Her mother placed the robin gently in her hand to gratify her by the touch of its soft plumage. " We feel very kindly towards the bird," she said, " but don't you perceive how even our kindness alarms and distresses it ? How its little heart beats. And how it tries to get away from us, though we have done it such a favor in releasing it. It is because the robin is made to be free ; God has given him the liberty of the trees, the fields, the sky — and no one has a right wantonly to take it from him." Grace kissed the robin on his head, and back, and wings, and then opening her hand, said, " Good-bye, birdie ;" and away flew the captive to join his anxious mate on the tall larch tree, where they sang all summer the sweetest songs, and safely reared more than one brood of happy nestlings. LITTLE MINNIE. 33 LITTLE MINNIE. Art thou weary, little Minnie ? Lay thy head upon my knee ; It makes the old man's heart rejoice. Thy sunny face to see ; Well may the aged falter, Who tread life's rugged way ; When even little Minnie Grows weary of her play. Tell thee a story, Minnie ? — Nay, I am growing old ; And all the stories of my youth, Long since to thee were told. But, if thou 'It listen, darling, There 's something I would say, That you may oft remember, When I have passed away. X.— c 34 LITTLE MINNIE. Minnie ! my holiest thought for years, That 's cheered me many a day, Is the memory of the mother, Who taught me first to pray ; Minnie ! do you remember Your gentle mother too, Whose only grief in dying Was the thought of leaving you ? Ah, child, I mind me of the time, A tiny babe wert thou — When the baptismal dew of Heaven Was sprinkled on thy brow; Thy mother gave her one pet lamb, One of Christ's flock to be ; Now, in the fields of Paradise, She waiteth there for thee. Ah, Minnie ! little Minnie ! When at the close of day, You kneel beside your little bed, Your evening prayer to say ; LITTLE MINNIE. 35 Then pray to God to aid thee. To keep thy mother's vow ; That sin's dark shadow ne'er may rest Upon thy fair young brow. Kemember thy Creator ! These words were kindly given, Even as a Father's hand, that leads His little ones to Heaven ; Ah ! Minnie, closely hold his hand — As through life's path you roam, Though rough and thorny be the way, 'T will safely lead you home. And when they lay me by her side, In the peaceful churchyard there, And you sometimes gaze with tearful eyes, Upon this vacant chair, These words, perchance, your lonely heart With soothing thoughts may fill ; Think, darling, we who loved you Are watching o'er you still. 36 infant's prayer. Good-night, my little Minnie ! You 're weary now, I know ; Yes, twine your arms around me, And kiss me ere you go ; Then hie thee to thy chamber — Another day has gone — Good night, my precious Minnie : God bless thee, little one ! INFANT'S PRAYER. Jesus, Saviour, Son of God, Who for me life's pathway trod, Who for me became a child, Make me humble, meek, and mild. I thy little lamb would be ; Jesus, I would follow thee : Samuel w T as thy child of old, Take me, too, within thy fold. JAMES AND THE APPLE. 37 JAMES AND THE APPLE. One day James was playing in the yard, and he found, by the side of the fence, a large red apple. He took it up and put it in his pocket. He knew that it belonged to one of the other boys, but he thought he would carry it away alone, and eat it after school. Just then the bell rang for the boys to go in. James went in, and took his seat, with the apple in his pocket. All the rest of that afternoon James was restless and unhappy. There was something in his mind which seemed to say — "James, that apple is not yours ; — you must not keep it." This was conscience, warning James not to do wrong. For he had not yet ac- tually done anything wrong. The apple was safe in his pocket. He had not had an 38 JAMES AND THE APPLE. opportunity to give it to the boy it belonged to. He had not yet begun to carry it away to a secret place to eat it. But his con- science warned him against the dishonest act which he was going to do. James felt quite uneasy and unhappy all the afternoon. He tried to amuse his mind by thinking of something else*; but he could not, until, at last, just before school w 7 as done, he resolved that he would go and carry the apple to the boy that it belonged to. Then his mind was relieved, and he became quiet and happy again. If James had kept that apple, as he in- tended at first, no one misrht ever have found it out ; but still it would have helped to make him not only unhappy, but bad. For no boy can do a wrong thing once with- out finding it easier to do wrong a second time. It was well for James that he listened GOING TO EEST. 39 to what conscience told him, and better still that he obeyed its voice. I am sure he found it much easier, when temptation met him again, to resist it, for the rule is true of right as well as of wrong- doing, that every time we make an effort to do well, makes well-doing easier after- wards. GOING TO REST. When darkness veils the distant hill, TLe little birds are hid and still; And I my sweet repose may take, Since my Creator is awake : How sweet upon my little bed, Since my Creator guards my head, And doth the little infant keep Through all the hours of silent sleep. ,vv nature's words to her pupil. 41 NATURE'S WORDS TO HER PUPIL. By a river I sat in the sunset. What murmured the river to thee ? " Let thy life's young tide in the light of love glide To the sea of eternity." A tree o'er my head was waving. And what said the old oak tree ? " Learn, learn of my shade the weary to aid With comfort and sympathy." A bird on a bough was singing. What carol'd the merry bird ? " Dear child, dost thou sing hymns of praise to thy King, With infancy's lisping word ?" 42 nature's words to her pupil. A bee came around me buzzing. And what said the busy bee ? " Oh, let not youth's day pass in idling away; Or age will be sad to thee." A rose at my side was blooming. What whispered the gentle rose ? " With the heart's fresh bloom smile away all the gloom That care o'er the hearth-stone throws." A star came out in the twilight. What word had the twinkling star? " May peace on thee shine from the glory divine. Where God and the angels are !" LITTLE LOTTY. 43 LITTLE LOTTY. Lotty is the German nick-name for Char- lotte. The little Lotty that I me#n is the daughter of a German shoemaker. Her father is only a journeyman, and works very hard to earn a little money. Her mother has several children younger than Lotty, and one of them is a baby. Lotty does most of the housework, and helps with the cook- ing. To-day she is ironing, in a little back room, and we must listen while she is talk- ing to herself. " There, now," says Lotty, " I think that neckerchief will do. Father will look very nice in it, when he sits in church to-morrow. I love to do anything to please father: it makes him smile so, and smoothes the wrinkles out of his forehead, just as this iron smooths the muslin. 44 LITTLE LOTTY. " I wonder what makes father look so sad. Perhaps it is because he is poor. Oh ! I do wish I was older, so that I could earn some- thing for father and mother ! But, patience — patience, time flies very fast. Mother is sad, too, and the tears came into her eyes the other day when she was talking about paying the rent. But they both seem glad when they look at us ; that is because they love us. I wish the crease would come out of that apron. It must be very sweet to be able to make our parents happy. We can't pay them for all they have done for us. Father says that the best pay is love and obedience. Well ! my iron is cold. I '11 put it down, and take another. "There, I hear mother singing. What hymn is it ? Oh ! now I know — ' Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly/ I think it is mother's darling hymn. Mine MY COUSIN FLORINE. 4o is — 6 The Lord my pasture shall prepare/ I am glad that I went to Sunday-school, if it was only to learn that hymn. Next Sunday the teacher will tell me something new, I know, for he always says some things we like to hear, and that does us good, too. And he is so kind to teach us good. " Now my ironing is all done, and after I have fed the chicks, I will learn a new hymn, and some verses for next Sunday." MY COUSIN FLORINE. Ah ! a sweet little girl is my cousin Florine, And her eyes are the brightest I ever have seen; And curls that are glossier, a brow that's more fair, Or cheeks that are rosier I 'm sure must be rare. 46 MY COUSIN FLORINE. But, my dear little reader, do tell me, I pray, Why, think you, I love her, that cousin so gay? *T is not for her beauty, though that is so rare, For some may be prettier, and many as fair; But because she is gentle and loving and kind — For her goodness of heart and her beauty of mind : Far better than beauty, and far better than gold, Are the treasures of virtue young hearts should enfold. THE BUTTERFLY. 47 THE BUTTERFLY. Little children went to play, When the day was nearly done ; And the fragrant clover field Redden'd in the setting sun. They were happy children all, And they loved each other well, Kate and Willie, Ruth and Jane, Even tiny Isabelle. How they danced among the grass, How they pulled the flowers up, And made wreaths of purple clover, Mingled with the buttercup. By-and-by a butterfly, Flutter' d from its hiding-place, And the children laughed with joy, At its beauty and its grace. 48 THE BUTTERFLY. Oh ! its wings were broad and bright, Gay with yellow, blue, and red, But it soon grew tired of flying, And came down on Willie's head. Little Isabelle sprang up, And her hand was reached with care, " Sister Katie, shall I catch it, While it rests so nicely there ?" "No," said Kate, with gentle smiles, " That would only give it pain, Let it rest its feet awhile, Then fly off to play again." " No," said Willie, smiling too, " If it trusts itself to me, I'll not make my hair a trap, To take away its liberty." LITTLE MARY. 49 Little Isabelle gave up Her design with pleasant face. " But," said she, " I '11 watch it close, Till it leaves its resting place." So the children only watched it, Till it choose to fly away ; Then, with pleasant, gentle feelings, Off they went again, to play. LITTLE MARY. Little Mary was good, The weather was fair, She went with her mother To breathe the fresh air. The birds were all singing; Mary chatted away, And she felt as merry And happy as they. 3L— d 50 ONLY JUST INSIDE THE FENCE. ONLY JUST INSIDE THE FENCE. UST inside of the fence," cried the little chil- dren. "Oh, such beautiful flow- ers ! and only just inside the fence !" And then stealthy glances were cast up at the windows, the gate pressed softly, the beautiful flowers were snatched with a trembling hand, and the little children fled away with beating hearts. Were they now happier, because their guilty feet had wan- dered into forbidden paths ? Only a little way had they gone, and lo, they had fallen into sin ! The freshness, the fragrance, the beauty ONLY JUST INSIDE THE FENCE. 51 of the flowers, were not sufficient to still the remorseful whispers of conscience. It was only just inside the fence they had been, yet what an ugly mark had sin set upon their fair brows ! Poor little children are we all. Forbidden pleasure smiles and beckons to us, only just inside the fence. Our longing glances linger •' COD D there ; our feet stray thitherward ; it is a little way, no one sees us, and we put forth our hands and pluck the flowers whose fatal beauty is a snare to the soul. Only just inside the fence ! But that fence is set between us and sin. One side of it we may walk safely in the " King's Highway," the other side leads us to tempta- tion, to fully, to crime. Once, when we have set our feet in the forbidden paths, we go again more boldly, till the time comes when that fence, set for our safety, is broken 52 ONLY JUST INSIDE THE FENCE. down and destroyed by our reckless indul- gence in evil desires. There is no longer a barrier between us and sin. We do not pause or look round stealthily, or tremble as we grasp the coveted pleasure ; our looks are grown insolent and defiant; the guilty blood mantles not on our cheeks at the de- tected fraud, the selfish indulgence, the de- basing irreverence. The fence is broken down, and we wander unrestrained farther and farther on those inviting paths, whose fatal termination is the snare, the pitfall, the abyss of darkness and eternal despair. u Such beautiful flowers!" Turn from them, touch them not, they are forbidden. " Only just inside the fence /" Within that fence is sin, without it is safety. the child's wish. 53 THE CHILD'S WISH. " If I could live till Spring," she said, " When the first daisies blow, And meek-eyed flowers soft odors shed, I'd be content to go. But oh ! it is so cold a bed, The grave half full of snow." She slept — I often wonder now To what sweet land she stole, And gather'd love's most precious vow From some celestial goal. For, oh ! such peace was on her brow, The sunlight of the soul. I know not where she caught the light, That glistened in her eyes ; "But, oh!" said she, "'tis always bright — 'T is Summer in the skies. I shall not feel how deep and white The snow above me lies." 5 54 the child's wish. And now the light of early Spring Casts blossoms on her breast, And meadow-larks and thrushes sing Their carols to her rest. The snows have melted as the wing Of sunset in the west. And there are thistles, blue and red, Half bending o'er her tomb; And little flowers by dew-drops fed Just bursting into bloom. A quiet, little valley bed, An emerald curtain'd room. She died, amid the Winter snow, Of poverty the heir ; White as a lamb she dwells, I know, Where " little children" are ; For angels sought the cabin low, And found a sister there. THE IDLE ARE ALWAYS UNHAPPY. 55 THE IDLE ARE ALWAYS UNHAPPY. " Oh, dear me !" sighed little Robert Blake, as he leaned his head against the open win- dow and looked out, " I don't think vacation is very good fun after all; I am tired of playing and tired of reading, and I can't think of anything else to do." " What if you should try working a little ?" said his sister Mary, who sat at the other window, busily sewing. " I dare say the men would be glad to have you help them shake up the new hay, and — "Oh! I ain't going to work in vacation, I'm sure. Father told me if I didn't want to, I needn't do a single thing except amuse myself; and I don't mean to." " Yes ; but at the very same time he told you that you would find yourself very much mistaken, if you thought you could be happy 56 THE IDLE ARE ALWAYS UNHAPPY. to be entirely idle, and he said he should be very much surprised if you did not come and ask for something to do, before vacation was over." "Well, I don't care; I know that it is pleasanter to play than it is to work, what- ever you may say to the contrary." " So it is, for a while ; but you see your- self how soon you are tired of it." " Well, I shall get rested pretty soon." " Yes, a little hay-making would rest you nicely." " I tell you I won't work in vacation, so you needn't say any more about it;" and seizing his straw hat, Robert ran out of the house. First he took his ball and threw it against the wall a few times ; but pretty soon the ball went over the shed, and Robert was " too tired," as he said to himself, to go and get it. So he sat down in the swing ; but he THE IDLE ARE ALWAYS UNHAPPY. 57 bad no one to swing him, and it was too much work to swing himself, so he took his kite, and as there was a fine wind, it soon rose to the full length of the string. But Kobert found it made his arms ache to hold on to the string, so he wound it up, and sat down on the door-step to consider what be should do next. It was a beautiful summer day, and as Kobert looked around he saw the little brook before his father's house, glittering in the sun, and looking so merry and pleasant, that he jumped up and ran towards it, to see if he could not get something there with which to amuse himself. He sat down for a little while under the great willow on the bank of the stream, and watched the tiny waves so busily dancing along; and he wondered where they all went to, and why they were always in such a hurry. But the wavelets 58 THE IDLE ARE ALWAYS UNHAPPY. could not speak to tell him, and so, after looking at the swift current a little longer, Robert picked up some slender twigs, and standing on the old bridge, amused him- self by throwing them into the brook, and seeing how quickly they would come through on the other side. But he was soon tired of this sport, and leaning with both arms upon the rail, and crossing his feet, he leaned listlessly over and gazed at the shining brook. He was aroused from his dream by the sound of merry voices coming towards him; and looking up he saw Susan Brown, the daughter of a neighbor, coming towards the brook, with a great pitcher upon her head, while her little sister Lizzy ran after her, chattering and laughing as if she felt very happy. " Why, what a great pitcher, Susy !" said Robert, " is it not very heavy ?" THE IDLE ARE ALWAYS UNHAPPY. 59 " Oh, no, I don't mind it when the weather is pleasant." So saying, she dipped the pitcher into the brook, and when it was filled, she again raised it towards her head ; but Robert said — " You had much better let me carry it." " Well, if you like," said Susy, laughing. "And I will bring another one up for you afterward, if you wish," said Robert. " Thank you ; I should like it very much ; for I have got to fill the barrel for mother, and I will give you a pail, and you can help me, if you like." "Yes, I should admire it," said Robert with sudden animation ; and for half an hour he worked steadily, carrying the pails and emptying them into the barrel. At the end of that time he felt quite warm and tired; but the barrel was full; and both Susey and her mother thanked him very 60 EVENING HYMN. much ; and Mrs. Brown gave him an apple turn-over, which she had just baked, and which tasted nicer to Kobert than anything he had eaten since vacation commenced. After eating this, he went home, and that same afternoon he told his father that he meant to help him part of every day, until school commenced again; u For," said he, "I find there is no w r ork so hard as trying to amuse myself." EVENING HYMN. Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me ; Bless thy little lambs to-night : Through the darkness be thou near me, Watch my sleep till morning light. VOICES. 61 VOICES. "And after the fire a still small voice." There is a voice of singing birds So merry and so glad ; There is a voice of little streams That sounds both sweet and sad. There is a loud and fearful voice Of thunder in the sky ; There is a voice among the leaves, Of breezes passing by. There is a mother's voice of love, To hush her little child ; There is a father's voice of praise, So earnest and so mild. We love to hear these voices speak, We listen to their sound ; We should not like so well to have A silence all around. 62 voices. But there is yet another voice, That speaks in gentle tone, I think that we can hear it best, When we are quite alone It is a still, small, holy voice, The voice of God most high, That whispers always in our heart, And says that He is by. The voice will blame us when we 're wrong, And praise us when we're right: We hear it in the light of day, And in the quiet night. And even they whose ears are deaf To every other sound, When they have listened, in their hearts The little voice have found. MORNING PRAYER. 63 And they have felt that God is good, And thanked him for his voice, That taught them what was right and true, And made their hearts rejoice. MORNING PRAYER. I thank thee, Lord, for quiet rest, And for thy care of me ; let me through this day be blest, And kept from harm by thee. Help me to please my parents dear And do whate'er they tell; Bless all my friends, both far and near, And keep them safe and well. MY MOTHER'S GRAVE A low, green-covered mound, With here and there a flower, Beneath the shade is found Anear the old church tower, And o'er the spot a willow weeps In silence, where my mother sleeps. (64) my mother's grave. 65 I was not very old When she was called away, To sleep so dark and cold Within that house of clay : I was a little laughing girl, With pale blue eye and golden curl. I heard her feebly sigh, And say she could not live — She prayed that God on high To me would blessings give : And that same night, they say at eleven, Her spirit winged its flight to heaven. And here she long has slept — It is a sacred spot, Where I have often wept, And blooming flowers brought : , They make me think how sweet her name, How pure her life, how dear her claim, x.— e 6 66 THE SUNBEAM, DEW-DROP, AND ROSE. THE SUNBEAM, DEW-DROP, AND ROSE. A dew-drop hung trembling like a timid thing upon the soft velvet leaf of a rose It sparkled and flashed each time the breeze wooed the rose-buds, with mj^riads of bril- liant hues, till it seemed as if a rainbow had been imprisoned within its crystal bosom, and was struggling to escape. Now the rose beheld its beauty, and thought she had never seen so lovely a creature ; so she spoke to it gently, in a voice that seemed like the essence of a summer wind. " Be faithful, dew-drop," said the rose, " I love you. You are like the stars that I see looking down from heaven on me when the wind wakens me at night; but I love you more than I do them ; you are near me, and they are far away. Come dwell with me THE SUNBEAM, DEW-DROP, AND ROSE. 67 ever, sweet gem of the morning, and to thee I will unlock all the fragrance of my bosom. The rose, as she spoke, unfolded her deli- cate leaves, until the dew-drop beheld the crimson depths of her heart glowing with love and passion. Just then a sly sunbeam peeped out from behind an embroidered cloud, and saw the dew-drop which was quivering with emotion at the declaration of the rose. " Heed not the foolish flower, sweet dew- drop," cried the sunbeam, " she would never love you as I can. Be mine, and I will bear thee up among the highest stars of heaven, and when I look at thee, thou shalt outshine them all." The dew-drop was bewildered, and knew not what to say. It would gladly have reigned in the golden heavens, and be the 68 THE SUNBEAM, DEW-DROP, AND ROSE. queen of the stars, but it feared the fierce ardor of the sunbeam ; and then the rose kept whispering such sweet things to it with its mossy lips, that it could not help loving its gentle voice. So it thought a little, and then replied to the sunbeam thus : "Oh, golden sunbeam, who gaze at me with thine eyes of splendor, thou art far too great for me to love thee. What would I, a poor, timid dew-drop, do, wedded to such magnificence as thine? At thy first em- brace I should melt away and vanish like the morning mist upon the hills. But the sweet rose I love dearly. Her kisses are laden with perfume, and from her bosom steals forth all the fragrance of love. Oh fond and beautiful flower, in thy rosy chalice I will dwell forever and be happy." Thus saying, the dew-drop slid gently THE SUNBEAM, DEW-DROP, AND ROSE. 69 down into the glowing bosom of the rose, and nestled among her velvet leaves. Sensible dew-drop ! Well did'st thou know that it is not the love that dazzles most which brings the greatest peace. The love of the sunbeam would have been fatal to thee, while that of the rose gave thee happiness and contentment. Love, like the sky-lark, though sometimes soaring to heaven, still builds its nest upon earth. 70 WHEN i'm a man WHEN I'M A MAN. " I 'm ten years old," said Harry Lee, " And see ! I 'm just an inch more tall Than last year when they measured me Against the wall. I have a birthday-gift — a gun ; It 's only wood — but I 've a plan To shoulder thus a real one When I 'm a man. " Come, be my comrade, brother Ben J" " Oh no ! excuse me, Captain Lee ; Before the sword I choose the pen. I mean to be An author famous far and wide ; My books shall flourish in the van Of fame ; you '11 hear of me with pride When I 'm a man." WHEN i'm a man 71 " And what will you do, brother Joe ?" " No fighter I, nor writer, sure ; Guns hurt, and books are dull; I'll go Where winds are pure, And woods are green, and waters gay, And creatures, free as ever ran On some lone Crusoe-island, play, When I 'm a man." Says Willy : " Father's calling, e Boys, Here 's something you can do for me.' " Then what a grumbling ! what a noise ! Says Willy Lee, " I 'm coming, father, I '11 begin To make folks happy while I can, And do good, any place I 'm in, When I 'm a man." 72 LITTLE THINGS. LITTLE THINGS. Little drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean, And the beauteous land. And the little moments, Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity. So our little errors Lead the soul away From the paths of virtue, Oft in sin to stray. Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love, Make our earth an Eden, Like the Heaven above. MY YOUNGER SISTER. 73 MY YOUNGER SISTER. When I was a little girl, my mother, one pleasant May-day, permitted my little sister Alice and myself to visit a cousin, who lived nearly a mile distant. We were in high glee, and were very soon prepared to start. I was in such haste to see cousin Harriet, that I walked as fast as possible, and Alice was obliged to run to keep pace with me. Still we proceeded very well until we entered a piece of woods, where the path was very uneven. But, inconsiderate as I was, I hurried her along, and, becoming impatient, would every few moments give her a jerk, and tell her, " Come along faster ; I '11 not stay out all the afternoon for you. I'll leave you in the woods, and the bears will get you." Though I knew very well there were no bears there, and did not think of 74 MY YOUNGER SISTER. leaving her, yet I unkindly wished to excite her fears, and thereby make her come more rapidly. Sometimes I would even run on before, until I was lost to her view; and when, by a fresh exertion of her almost ex- hausted strength, she would overtake me, I would say, " You had better hurry ;" and, at any noise, I would tell her to listen, and see if the bears were not coming. When we reached our uncle's, Alice seemed much ex- hausted, and did not join in play with her usual vivacity ; yet I thought but little of it at the time. When evening came, we rode home with our uncle, who was going to our house on business. When we alighted from the carriage, we ran in, and I began to tell mother what fine times we had had ; but Alice lay down on the sofa, and soon fell asleep. When mother undressed and put her in bed, she noticed that she was MY YOUNGER SISTER. 75 slightly feverish, and remarked, " I think Alice has played too hard." "I guess not, mamma," I said ; " I believe she did not play quite as hard as usual, this afternoon ;" and here the conversation ended. About midnight, I was awakened by Alice's shrieks of u Oh ! Marian, Marian, do not leave me ; the bears, the bears !" I started up in alarm, saying, " Why, Alice, are you dreaming ? We are not in the woods. There are no bears here. We are in our own little bed at home." With kisses and caresses, I gradu- ally soothed her; but scarcely had I fallen into a doze, before I was again aroused by Her shrieks, which soon brought mother to the bed-side. She immediately discovered that Alice was delirious, and suffering with a high fever. A physician was instantly summoned, who pronounced her disease a violent attack of brain fever. I related the events of the preceding day to mother, on 76 MY YOUNGER SISTER. the first opportunity, and prayed God to forgive me, and to bless the means used for my little sister's recovery. Alice lingered many weeks without any material change, and few were admitted to her bed-side. One morning, as I came down to break> fast, my mother said to me, "Alice is much better, and has just been inquiring for you. After breakfast you may go and sit by her." Oh ! how much joy did those words convey to my heart ! and as I sat by her, and had her full assurance of forgiveness, how very happy I felt ! Every day I gathered beau- tiful flowers, such as Alice loved, and placed them in a little vase, where she could look at them ; and when, at last, she was able to walk out, I endeavored, by increased tender- ness, to make up for that one act of unkind- ness which cost her so much suffering. Her sicknesss left her in a decline, and in a few months she died. COUSIN LOU. 77 COUSIN LOU. Little roguish Cousin Lou, With her dancing eyes of blue ; — While the long and silken lashes, Can't conceal their mirthful flashes. Careless waving, golden tresses, Which each passing breeze caresses ; Dimpled cheeks — and sunny smiles, Silvery laugh — and playful wiles, All these charms your love will woe, For my witching Cousin Lou. These are sure enough to please, But my Lou has more than these; — From her eyes of heavenly blue, Beams a spirit kind and true ; Every warm and gen'rous feeling, O'er her childish heart is stealing, — 78 COUSIN LOU. And her soul is high and truthful, Though her form is slight and youthful, Is it very strange — think you, That I love my darling Lou ? Little maiden, would you be, Loved as tenderly as she ? — Never shrink the truth from telling, Let no angry passions swelling, Cloud your brow of smiling beauty ; Learn to yield to love and duty ; Wear a smile for all who meet you, — Kind words as your playmates greet you — Learn to be as good and true, If you would be loved like Lou ! ADVICE IN RHYMES. 79 ADVICE IN RHYMES. Y little girl, be al- ways kind, And cultivate a wil- ling mind ; Be ready, by a wore 1 or smile, The sad or weary to beguile ; And by your acts of love, to give Pleasure to all with whom you live ; Be kind, then you will be polite, Your manner simple, grateful, right. My little girl, be soft and mild ; Oh, be a gentle, docile child ! Raise not your voice to friend or foe, But let your tones be sweet and low. 80 ADVICE IN RHYMES. Be truthful, open, and sincere, Be independent without fear; And if you know that you are right, Shrink not from ridicule or slight. Be simple in your taste for dress, But clothe your soul in loveliness. Be meek ; oh, it is sweet to be Apparelled in humility. The faults of others do not seek, And of them do not speak ; But daily search for all your own, And strive to banish every one. I MEAN TO BE GOOD TO-DAY. 81 I MEAN TO BE GOOD TO-DAY. Little Emma said, one day, " Now, mo ther, I mean to try and be a good girl all day, and see if the smiles will not come creeping, creeping, all over my face," and' she put up her little fingers and traced around her cherry mouth and little rosy cheeks ; " they will come creeping, creeping, just so, mother, and I shall have a little smiling face all over." • Oh, I thought, if all little children would make such a resolution as that, every morn- ing, what a set of happy, smiling faces we should see ! Did you never see a little child who looked very cross in the morning, who would cry when her mother washed her, stick out her little feet when her mother put on her shoes X. — F 82 I MEAN TO BE GOOD TO-DAY. and stockings, and shake her little shoulders when she put on her dress, and be sulky for full an hour ? Would the " smiles come creeping, creeping," over that cross child's face ? No ; I fear they would wait a long time before they came there. Emma is sometimes cross in the morning, and then she seems to think about it, and says, " I mean to be a good little girl, mo- ther; you shall have no naughty Emma to- day." And then her mother looks at her, and a little smile is creeping, creeping over Emma's face, and she is all one smile. Emma is a very little girl; hardly three years old ; but I never knew a little girl who kept trying to be good all the time as she does. Every night she says, "Our Father, please make Emma a good little girl. Amen." Children, when you feel cross, and do not I MEAN TO BE GOOD TO-DAY. 83 want to be washed and dressed, and have your hair brushed, or when you speak in a sulky voice, and pout and cry, think of little Emma, and say, " Now I mean to be a good child to-day, and then smiles will come creeping, creeping." Your mother loves to see the smiles. When she sees the pouting lips, and the tears in the eyes, she grieves, and wonders how soon they will be changed for a face where the smiles will love to come. So put away your sour looks, little chil- dren, and see, see the smiles are coming creeping, creeping out of the corners of your mouth, over the little rosy cheek, lighting up the blue eyes, and the whole face looks like a pleasant landscape, when the sun shines upon it. But the frowning face is like a landscape 84 GOOD ADVICE FOR LITTLE ONES. when a dark cloud comes over the bright sky, and all is black and dismal. Our Father in heaven loves to see the cheerful face of a little child, for it tells of a cheerful heart. So try every day, little girls and little boys, try if you cannot be good children every day, and then you will see the smiles come creeping, creeping. GOOD ADVICE FOR LITTLE ONES. My dear little child, Be gentle and mild ; For what can you get By passion and pet, But sorrow and shame, A very bad name, The loss of your peace, And guilt in its place ? a child's thoughts. 85 A CHILD'S THOUGHTS. Oh ! I long to lie, dear mother, On the cool and fragrant grass, With naught but the sky above my head, And the shadowing clouds that pass. And I want the bright, bright sunshine, All round upon my bed, I will close my eyes, and God will think Your little boy is dead ! Then Christ will send an angel To take him up to him ; He will bear me slow and steadily, Far through the ether dim. He will gently, gently lay me Close to the Saviour's side, And when I 'm sure that we 're in heaven, My eyes I '11 open wide. 86 a child's thoughts. And 1 11 look among the angels That stand about the throne, 'Till I find my sister Mary, For I know she must be one. And when I find her, mother, We will go away alone, And I will tell her how we 've mourned All the while she has been gone ! Oh ! I shall be delighted, To hear her speak again — Though I know she '11 ne'er return to us — To ask her would be vain ! So I '11 put my arms around her, And look into her eyes, And remember all I said to her, And all her sweet replies. WILD FLOWERS. 87 And then I'll ask the angel To take me back to you — He '11 bear me slow and steadily, Down through the ether blue. And you '11 only think, dear mother, I have been out at play, And have gone to sleep, beneath a tree, This sultry summer day. WILD FLOWERS. Go, Florence, get me wild flowers, My little merry Florence, do. Run all about — see here and there, In field and wood, and everywhere, They spring up white and blue. White and blue, and red and yellow, Round about our pathway shine; Everywhere beneath our feet Spring up wild-flowers fresh and sweet, To gladden hearts Uke thine. \8 WILD FLOWERS. Look round, the sunshine and the air, The water-brooks that softly glide, The mother-earth that keeps and warms, Soft falling dews, careering storms Have nourishment supplied. Oh ! gracious handiwork of God ! And thus is clothed the barren wild, With flowers so odorous and so fair, That spring so numerous everywhere To please a little child. Go, Florence, get me wild flowers ; Go gather of the flowers thy fill, — The blue-bell and the orchis red, The boughs of wilding overhead, The broom from off the hill. For, looking on a little flower, A blessed truth shall reach thy heart, A glimpse of that divinest plan — That bond of love 'twixt man and man — In which e'en thou hast part. Mary Howitt, A STORY. 89 A STOKY. I will tell you a story about a little boy. It is a pretty story. I have read it in the Bible. Once there was a basket found in the rushes by the side of a river. It was made tight, so that the water could not get into it. There were a number of women near, when the basket was found. One of them was a princess, and her father was the king of that country. When they looked into the basket, they saw there a little child. Strange, that any mother should leave her babe in such a place. I will tell you the reason she left him there. She was a He- brew woman. The king of the country where the child was found was wicked, and hated all the Hebrew people. He hated them so much, that he gave orders to have 8 90 A STORY. all their children killed as soon as they were born. The mother of this babe put him in this basket, or ark, to save his life. She thought, I suppose, that somebody would come and have pity on him. And there was a friend of hers very near, to see what would become of the child. Well, the king's daughter heard the babe cry, and she did pity him. The woman who was watch- ing him, asked if she should not go and call a nurse for him. The princess said yes; and the woman went and called his mother. So the child was saved, and lived many years, and the Lord made him a very great and useful man. The name of this child was Moses. A GOOD-NIGHT SONG. 91 A GOOD-NIGHT SONG. bed, to bed, my curly head, To bed, and sleep so sweetly ; Merry and bright, with the morning light, Be up, and dressed so neatly. Then for a walk, and a pleasant talk About the birds and flowers; And all the day, in work and play, We '11 pass the happy hours. And then to bed, to rest the head, And sleep until the morrow : May every day thus glide away, Without a shade of sorrow. 92 THE PRESENCE OF GOD. THE PRESENCE OF GOD. Come to me, little child ! I am going to teach you a sweet lesson out of God's pre- cious book. This is the Bible, you know — God's own book. He gives it to us, and he bids us teach our children out of it. So I am going to teach you one sweet little verse : "Thou, God, seest me." Yes, God sees you, standing or sitting there. And he likes to see you learning a verse out of his own book, for he loves little children. He is full of love. God is here now. He is in this very room. You can't see him ; but he sees you. Wherever you are, he watches you ; and he takes care of you at night when it is dark, and when nobody can see you but God. He sees you, too, when you awake in the morn- ing, and open your eyes, and jump out of your little bed. For God is always beside you. oh, hark! the baby cries. 93 OH, HAEK! THE BABY CRIES. Oh, hark ! Oh, hark ! the baby cries, As on his little bed he lies : He looks around, and mother's gone, And he don't like to be alone. But mother is coming, Oh see how she's running, To learn what the matter can be ; But she soon will find out What it all is about ; And how very sorry is she. My little babe must never fret, And put himself in such a pet ; But play with his fingers and his toes, And lie very still when mother goes. Now sister is coming, I hear her a running 94 oh, hark! the baby cries. To see what the matter can be ; She has heard the loud cries, And away now she flies, For a dear loving sister is she. Our little boy must never fret, And put himself in such a pet, But give us kisses, one, two, three : Here, come ! I '11 take you on my knee. Now see your dear mother, And sister and brother, Who always are loving and true; And when they 're away, Lie still, laugh and play, They '11 soon come again back to you. THE FARMER AND HIS SON. 95 THE FARMER AND HIS SON; A FABLE. Lying at the point of death, a farmer, being desirous that his son should pursue the same occupation in which he had him- self been engaged all his life, made use of this expedient to induce him to enter upon it with industry and perseverence. While the boy knelt at his father's bedside, with his other children, the latter addressed him thus: — "All the patrimony, my son, which I have to leave you, is my farm and vine- yard, of which I make you sole heir. But I charge you not to let it out of your own hands, for if I have any treasure beside, it is buried somewhere in the ground, within a foot of the surface." This made the son conclude that he talked of money which he 96 ANNIE. Lad hidden there; so, after his father's death, with unwearied diligence and appli- cation, he carefully dug up every inch both of the farm and the vineyard ; from which it came to pass, that though he found not the treasure which he expected, the ground, by being so well stirred and loosened, pro- duced so plentiful a crop of all that was sown in it, as proved a real and no inconsi- derable treasure. We see from this fable, little boys and girls, that industry is itself a treasure. ANNIE. I've a sweet little pet ! — she is up with the lark, And at eve she's asleep when the valleys are dark, ANNIE. 97 And she chatters and dances the blessed day long, Now laughing in gladness — now singing a song. She never is silent ! — the whole summer day She is off on the green with the blossoms a1 play; Now seeking a buttercup — plucking a rose, Or laughing aloud at the thistle she blows. She never is still ! — now at some merry elf, You '11 smile as you watch her, in spite of yourself; You may chide her in vain, for those eyes, full of fun, Are smiling in mirth at the mischief she 's done; And whatever you do — that same thing, without doubt, Must the mischievous Annie be busied about; X. — G 98 ANNIE. She's as brown as a nut, but a beauty to me, And there's nothing her keen little eyes cannot see. She dances and sings, and has many sweet airs, And to infant accomplishments, adding her prayers. I have told everything that the darling can do, For 't was only last summer her years num- ber'd two. She 's the picture of health — and a southern- born thing, Just as ready to weep as she 's ready to sing, And I fain would be foe to the lip that hath smiled At this wee bit of song of the dear little child. THE MURMURING FOUNTAIN. 99 THE MURMURING FOUNTAIN. A FABLE. n What a wearisome life do I lead here !" said a little fountain to itself one day, as it bubbled up in the middle of a very small green spot in an unfrequented part of a burning desert. " What an insignificant little fountain I am ! I have not the satis- faction of pouring out a large stream of water, and fertilizing a great extent of this endless desert. If I were, then I should see whole caravans of men, and horses, and camels, stop around me, and quench their thirst, and repose their weary limbs upon the fresh green grass that would spring up