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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:39:04 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:39:04 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/28660-h.zip b/28660-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7191c35 --- /dev/null +++ b/28660-h.zip diff --git a/28660-h/28660-h.htm b/28660-h/28660-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d96728 --- /dev/null +++ b/28660-h/28660-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1887 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Phebe, The Blackberry Girl, by Anonymous + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + margin: 2em auto 2em auto; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +hr { margin: 100px auto 30px auto; + height: 0px; + border-width: 1px 0 0 0; + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + width: 30em; + clear: both; +} +hr.hr2 {margin: 30px auto 100px auto;} +hr.hr3 {margin: 0px auto 0px auto; width: 15em;} +hr.hr4 {margin: 0px auto 30px auto; width: 7em;} + +table { margin: 2em auto 5em auto; + border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0; +} +table.table2 {margin: auto;} +table.table2 td {padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em;} +th {font-size: .8em; font-weight: bold; text-align: right;} +td.tdr {text-align: right; padding-left: 1em; vertical-align: top;} +td.tdl {text-align: left; padding-right: 1em; vertical-align: top;} +td.tdl2 {text-align: left; padding-left: 2em; vertical-align: top;} + +/* Page numbers */ +.pagenum {/* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 95%; + font-size: 10px; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + font-style: normal; + letter-spacing: normal; + text-indent: 0em; + text-align: right; + color: #999999; + background-color: #ffffff; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-size: .9em;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: 5em auto 3em auto; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.io { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3.5em; +} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} +.poem span.i8 { + display: block; + margin-left: 8em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + +.ws {letter-spacing: .2em; word-spacing: .5em;} +.hang {padding-left: 4em;} + +#container {text-align: center; margin: auto; width: auto;} + +.block10 {text-align: center; margin: auto; width: 10em;} +.block15 {text-align: center; margin: auto; width: 15em;} +.block20 {text-align: center; margin: auto; width: 20em;} +.block25 {text-align: center; margin: auto; width: 25em;} +.block30 {text-align: center; margin: auto; width: 30em;} +.block35 {text-align: center; margin: auto; width: 30em;} +.block38 {text-align: center; margin: auto; width: 38em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Phebe, the Blackberry Girl, by Anonymous + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Phebe, the Blackberry Girl + Uncle Thomas's Stories for Good Children + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: May 2, 2009 [EBook #28660] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHEBE, THE BLACKBERRY GIRL *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/American +Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div id="container"> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span>--> + +<h1>PHEBE,<br /> + +THE BLACKBERRY GIRL.</h1> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-001.jpg" width="400" height="576" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h2>UNCLE THOMAS’S<br /> +<br /> +<big>STORIES</big><br /> +<br /> +<small>FOR</small><br /> +<br /> +GOOD CHILDREN.</h2> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>--> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>--> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-002.jpg" width="400" height="566" alt="UNCLE THOMAS." title="" /> +<span class="caption">UNCLE THOMAS.</span> +</div> + + + +<hr /> + + +<h2>PHEBE,<br /> +<br /><br /> +THE BLACKBERRY GIRL.</h2> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-003.jpg" width="250" height="172" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h4>NEW-YORK:<br /> + +<span class="ws">LIVERMORE & RUDD</span><br /> + +<small>310 BROADWAY<br /> + +1856.</small></h4> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>--> + + +<h5>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847<br /> +By <span class="smcap">Edward Livermore</span>,<br /> +In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.</h5> + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>--> +INTRODUCTION.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<h3>Uncle Thomas’s Stories for Good Children.</h3> + +<hr class="hr4" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> design of this series of unpretending +little books, is, to give to the +Young information, joined with amusement.</p> + +<p>They are prepared for young children, +and if, from the reading of these stories, +they acquire a love for good books, the +compiler’s object will be accomplished.</p> + + + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 562px;"> +<img src="images/i-006.jpg" width="562" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>--> +<a name="contents" id="contents"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr> +<th class="tdr" colspan="2">PAGE</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Blackberry Girl, Part I.</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#i">9</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Blackberry Girl, Part II.</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#ii">19</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Good Children</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#iii">23</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Poor Crazy Robert</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#iv">25</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Pet Lamb</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#v">29</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Father William and the Young Man</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#vi">37</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Little Girl and her Pets</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#vii">39</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Flowers</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#viii">43</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Child and the Flowers</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#ix">45</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">One, two, buckle my Shoe</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#x">49</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Washing and Dressing</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#xi">51</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Industrious Boy</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#xii">55</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">We are Seven</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#xiii">57</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Idle Boy</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#xiv">63</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Casabianca</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#xv">67</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Twinkle, twinkle, little Star</span>,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#xvi">71</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr /> + + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>--> +<a name="i" id="i"></a>THE BLACKBERRY GIRL.</h2> + +<h3>PART I.</h3> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-008.jpg" width="400" height="557" alt="Phebe, the Blackberry Girl." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Phebe, the Blackberry Girl.</span> +</div> + + + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“<span class="smcap">Why</span>, Phebe, are you come so soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are your berries, child?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot, sure, have sold them all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You had a basket pil’d.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“No, mother, as I climb’d the fence,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The nearest way to town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My apron caught upon a stake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And so I tumbled down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I scratched my arm, and tore my hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But still did not complain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And had my blackberries been safe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should not have cared a grain.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 564px;"> +<img src="images/i-010.jpg" width="564" height="400" alt="Phebe and her Mother." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Phebe and her Mother.</span> +</div> + + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>--> +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“But when I saw them on the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All scattered by my side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pick’d my empty basket up,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And down I sat and cried.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Just then a pretty little Miss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chanced to be walking by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stopp’d, and looking pitiful,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She begg’d me not to cry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Poor little girl, you fell,’ said she,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">‘And must be sadly hurt’—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">‘O, no,’ I cried, ‘but see my fruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All mixed with sand and dirt!’<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Well, do not grieve for that,’ she said<br /></span> +<span class="i2">‘Go home, and get some more:’<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, no, for I have stripp’d the vines,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These were the last they bore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“My father, Miss, is very poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And works in yonder stall;<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>--><br /></span> +<span class="i0">He has so many little ones,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He cannot clothe us all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I always long’d to go to church,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never could I go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when I ask’d him for a gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He always answer’d, ‘No.’<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘There’s not a father in the world<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That loves his children more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’d get you one with all my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, Phebe, I am poor.’<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“But when the blackberries were ripe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He said to me one day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">‘Phebe, if you will take the time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That’s given you for play,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘And gather blackberries enough,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And carry them to town,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To buy your bonnet and your shoes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I’ll try to get a gown.’<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-013.jpg" width="400" height="601" alt="Phebe and Billy going to School." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Phebe and Billy going to School.</span> +</div> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>--> +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“O Miss, I fairly jumped for joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My spirits were so light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, when I had leave to play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I pick’d with all my might.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I sold enough to get my shoes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">About a week ago;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these, if they had not been spilt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would buy a bonnet too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“But now they are gone, they all are gone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I can get no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Sundays I must stay at home<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just as I did before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And, mother, then I cried again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As hard as I could cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, looking up, I saw a tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was standing in her eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“She caught her bonnet from her head—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">‘Here, here,’ she cried, ‘take this!<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>-->’<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, no, indeed—I fear your ’ma<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would be offended Miss.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-015.jpg" width="250" height="208" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘My ’ma! no, never! she delights<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All sorrow to beguile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ’tis the sweetest joy she feels,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make the wretched smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘She taught me when I had enough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To share it with the poor:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never let a needy child<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go empty from the door.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 566px;"> +<img src="images/i-016.jpg" width="566" height="400" alt="The Church the Blackberry Girl went to." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Church the Blackberry Girl went to.</span> +</div> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>--> +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘So take it, for you need not fear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Offending her, you see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have another, too, at home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And one’s enough for me.’<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“So then I took it,—here it is—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For pray what could I do?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, mother, I shall love that Miss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As long as I love you.”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-017.jpg" width="250" height="191" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>--> +<a name="ii" id="ii"></a>THE BLACKBERRY GIRL.</h2> + +<h3>PART II.</h3> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 573px;"> +<img src="images/i-018.jpg" width="573" height="400" alt="Phebe with a Basket of Berries." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Phebe with a Basket of Berries.</span> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“<span class="smcap">What</span> have you in that basket, child?”<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“Blackberries, Miss, all pick’d to-day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They’re very large and fully ripe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Do look at them, and taste them pray.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“O yes: they’re very nice, indeed.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here’s fourpence—that will buy a few:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not quite so many as I want—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">However, I must make it do.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Nay, Miss, but you must take the whole;”<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“I can’t, indeed, my money’s spent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should be glad to buy them all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I have not another cent.<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>-->”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And if you had a thousand, Miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I’d not accept of one from you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray take them, they are all your own,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And take the little basket, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Have you forgot the little girl<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You last year gave a bonnet to?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps you have—but ever will<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That little girl remember you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And ever since, I’ve been to church,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For much do I delight to go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there I learn that works of love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are what all children ought to do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“So then I thought within myself,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That pretty basket, Billy wove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’ll fill with fruit for that dear Miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For sure ’twill be a work of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And so one morning up I rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While yet the fields were wet with dew<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>--><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pick’d the nicest I could find,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And brought them, fresh and sweet, for you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I know the gift is small indeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For such a lady to receive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still I hope you’ll not refuse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All that poor Phebe has to give.”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-021.jpg" width="250" height="213" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>--> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>--> +<a name="iii" id="iii"></a>GOOD CHILDREN.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 570px;"> +<img src="images/i-022.jpg" width="570" height="400" alt="Good Children learning their Hymn." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Good Children learning their Hymn.</span> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">How</span> lovely, how charming the sight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When children their Savior obey!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The angels look down with delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This beautiful scene to survey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little Samuel was holy and good;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Obadiah served God from his youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Timothy well understood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From a child, the Scripture of truth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Jesus was better than they:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From a child he was spotless and pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His parents he loved to obey,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And God’s perfect will to endure.<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>--></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like Samuel, Lord, I would be.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Obadiah and Timothy, too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! grant thy help unto me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The steps of my Lord to pursue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Make me humble, and holy, and mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the wicked constrain me to flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then though I am but a child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My soul shall find favor of thee.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-024.jpg" width="250" height="189" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>--> +<a name="iv" id="iv"></a>POOR CRAZY ROBERT.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<div class="block38"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Poor</span> Robert is crazy, his hair is turn’d gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His beard has grown long, and hangs down to his breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Misfortune has taken his reason away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His heart has no comfort, his head has no rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Poor man, it would please me to soften thy woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To soothe thy affliction, and yield thee support;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But see through the village, wherever he goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cruel boys follow, and turn him to sport.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 560px;"> +<img src="images/i-026.jpg" width="560" height="400" alt="Poor Crazy Robert." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Poor Crazy Robert.</span> +</div> + +<div class="block38"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>--> +<span class="i0">’Tis grievous to see how the pitiless mob<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Run round him and mimic his mournful complaint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And try to provoke him, and call him old Bob,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hunt him about till he’s ready to faint.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="block38"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>--> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ah! wicked children, I fear they forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That God does their cruel diversion behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that in his book dreadful curses are writ,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For those who shall mock at the poor and the old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Poor Robert, thy troubles will shortly be o’er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forget in the grave thy misfortunes will be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But God will his vengeance assuredly pour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On those wicked children who persecute thee.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-027.jpg" width="250" height="151" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr /> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>--> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>--> +<a name="v" id="v"></a>THE PET LAMB.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-028.jpg" width="400" height="572" alt="The Pet Lamb." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Pet Lamb.</span> +</div> + +<div class="block38"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a voice: it said, Drink, pretty creature, drink!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, looking o’er the hedge, before me I espied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snow-white mountain Lamb with a maiden at its side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No other sheep were near; the Lamb was all alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While to that mountain Lamb she gave its evening meal.<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>--></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drink, pretty creature, drink, she said in such a tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I almost received her heart into my own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">’Twas little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty rare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now with her empty can the maiden turned away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Towards the Lamb she looked; and from that shady place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I unobserved could see the workings of her face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, thought I, to her Lamb that little maid might sing!<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>--></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What ails thee, young one? what? why pull so at thy cord?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest, little young one, rest; what is’t that aileth thee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is it thou wouldst seek? what is wanting to thy heart?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy limbs are they not strong? And beautiful thou art:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain!<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>--><br /></span> +<span class="i0">For rain and mountain storms, the like thou need’st not fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rest little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my father found thee first in places far away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy mother from thy side forevermore was gone.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-032.jpg" width="250" height="191" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block38"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>--> +<span class="i0">He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the mountain tops no kinder could have been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest that twice a day I brought thee in this can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I’ll yoke thee to my cart, like a pony in the plough;<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>--><br /></span> +<span class="i0">My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-034.jpg" width="250" height="191" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block38"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It will not, will not rest! poor creature, can it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ’tis thy mother’s heart which is working so in thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas, the mountain tops that look so green and fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’ve heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there:<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>--><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little brooks that seem all pastime and at play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here thou need’st not dread the raven in the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night and day thou art safe,—our cottage is hard by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why bleat so after me? why pull so at thy chain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep—and at break of day I will come to thee again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again, and once again, did I repeat the song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, said I, more than half to the damsel must belong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she looked with such a look, and she spake with such a tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I almost received her heart into my own.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>--> + +<a name="vi" id="vi"></a>FATHER WILLIAM AND THE YOUNG MAN.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 576px;"> +<img src="images/i-036.jpg" width="576" height="400" alt="Father William and the Young Man." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Father William and the Young Man.</span> +</div> + +<div class="block30"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">You</span> are old, Father William, the young man cries<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The few locks which are left you are gray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You appear, Father William, a healthy old man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now tell me the reason, I pray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I was a youth, Father William replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I remembered that youth would fly fast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I abused not my health and my vigor at first,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I never might need them at last.<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>--></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You are old, Father William, the young man said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pleasures, with youth, pass away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet you repent not the days that are gone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now tell me the reason, I pray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I was a youth, Father William replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I remembered that youth could not last:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought of the future, whatever I did,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I never might grieve for the past.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You are old, Father William, the young man still cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And life is swift hastening away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come tell me the reason, I pray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am cheerful, young man, Father William replied;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let the cause your attention engage:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the days of my youth I remembered my God!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he hath not forgotten my age.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>--> +<a name="vii" id="vii"></a>The little Girl and her Pets.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 551px;"> +<img src="images/i-040.jpg" width="551" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<table class="table2" summary="The Little Girl and her Pets"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><i>Girl.</i></td> +<td class="tdl2"><span class="smcap">Swallow</span>, thou dear one! now thou, indeed,<br /> +From thy wandering dost reappear,<br /> +Tell me, who is it to thee that hath said<br /> +That again it is spring-time here.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><i>Swa.</i></td> +<td class="tdl2">The fatherly God, in that far-off clime,<br /> +Who sent me, he told me ’twas sweet spring-time.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdl2">And though she had come so far and wide,<br /> +She was not deceived in time or tide.<br /> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>--> +The snow it was gone, the sun shone warm,<br /> +The merry gnats danced in many a swarm,<br /> +The Swallow knew neither want nor care,<br /> +She found for her children enough and to spare.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><i>Girl.</i></td> +<td class="tdl2">Come, little Dog, ’tis your master’s will<br /> +That you learn to sit upright and still.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><i>Dog.</i></td> +<td class="tdl2">Learn must I? I’m so small, you see,<br /> +Just for a little while let it be!</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><i>Girl.</i></td> +<td class="tdl2">No, little Dog, it is far best to learn soon,<br /> +For later it would be more painfully done.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdl2">The little Dog learned, without more ado,<br /> +And soon could sit upright and walk upright too;<br /> +In deepest waters unfearing could spring,<br /> +And whatever was lost could speedily bring.<br /> +The master saw his pleasure, and he too began<br /> +To learn, and thus grew up a wise, good man.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>--> +<a name="viii" id="viii"></a>THE FLOWERS.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 553px;"> +<img src="images/i-042.jpg" width="553" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Say</span>, Ma! did God make all the flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That richly bloom to-day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is it he that sends sweet showers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make them look so gay?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Did he make all the mountains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That rear their heads so high?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the little fountains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That glide so gently by?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And does he care for children small?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Say, ma! does God love me?<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>--><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has he the guardian care of all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The various things we see?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! yes! my child, he made them all—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flowers, mountains, plants and trees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man so great, no child so small,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That from his eye can flee.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-044.jpg" width="250" height="187" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>--> +<a name="ix" id="ix"></a>THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-046.jpg" width="400" height="555" alt="“Put up thy work, dear Mother.”" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“Put up thy work, dear Mother.”</span> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Put</span> up thy work, dear mother;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear mother, come with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I’ve found within the garden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The beautiful sweet-pea!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And rows of stately hollyhocks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down by the garden-wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All yellow, white and crimson,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So many-hued and tall!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And bending on their stalks, mother<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are roses white and red;<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>--> +<span class="i0">And pale-stemmed balsams all a-blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On every garden-bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Put up thy work, I pray thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And come out, mother dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We used to buy these flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But they are growing here!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, mother! little Amy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would have loved these flowers to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost remember how we tried to get<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For her a pink sweet-pea?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dost remember how she loved<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those rose-leaves pale and sere?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish she had but lived to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lovely roses here!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Put up thy work, dear mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wipe those tears away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And come into the garden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before ’tis set of day!<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + + +<hr /> + + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>--> +<a name="x" id="x"></a>ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 573px;"> +<img src="images/i-048.jpg" width="573" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block15"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One</span>, two,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buckle my shoe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three, four,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shut the door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Five, six,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pick up sticks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seven, eight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay them straight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nine, ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A good fat hen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eleven, twelve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who will delve?<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>--><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thirteen, fourteen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maids a courting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fifteen, sixteen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maids a kissing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seventeen, eighteen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maids a waiting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nineteen, twenty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My stomach’s empty.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-050.jpg" width="250" height="195" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>--> +<a name="xi" id="xi"></a>WASHING AND DRESSING.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 579px;"> +<img src="images/i-052.jpg" width="579" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block35"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ah!</span> why will my dear little girl be so cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cry, and look sulky and pout?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I can’t even kiss her without.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You say you don’t like to be washed and be drest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But would you be dirty and foul?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, drive that long sob from your dear little breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And clear your sweet face from its scowl.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If the water is cold, and the comb hurts your head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the soap has got into your eye,<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>--> +<span class="i0">Will the water grow warmer for all that you’ve said?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And what good will it do you to cry?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is not to tease you, and hurt you, my sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But only for kindness and care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I wash you and dress you, and make you look neat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And comb out your tanglesome hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I don’t mind the trouble, if you would not cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But pay me for all with a kiss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That’s right, take the towel and wipe your wet eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I thought you’d be good after this.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="xii" id="xii"></a>THE INDUSTRIOUS BOY.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 574px;"> +<img src="images/i-054.jpg" width="574" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>--> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">In</span> a cottage upon the heath wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That always was cleanly and nice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Liv’d William, a good little child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who minded his parents’ advice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">’Tis true he lov’d marbles and kite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spin-top, and nine-pins, and ball;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this I declare with delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His book he loved better than all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In active and useful employ<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His youth gayly glided away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While rational pleasures and joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Attended his steps every day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now let us see him grown up;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still cheerfulness dwelt in his mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contentment yet sweeten’d his cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For still he was active and kind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His garden well loaded with store,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His cot by the side of the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where woodbines crept over the door,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And jessamines peep’d in between.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These fill’d him with honest delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rewarded him well for his toil:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He went to bed cheerful at night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And woke in the morn with a smile.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-056.jpg" width="250" height="193" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>--> +<a name="xiii" id="xiii"></a>WE ARE SEVEN.</h2> + +<h4>BY WM. WORDSWORTH.</h4> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-058.jpg" width="250" height="179" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">A simple</span> child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lightly draws its breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And feels its life in every limb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What should it know of death!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I met a little cottage girl:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She was eight years old, she said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair was thick with many a curl<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That clustered round her head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She had a rustic woodland air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she was wildly clad:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes were fair, and very fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her beauty made me glad.<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>--></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sisters and brothers, little maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How many may you be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many? Seven in all, she said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wondering looked at me.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And where are they? I pray you tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She answered seven are we;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And two of us at Conway dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And two are gone to sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two of us in the churchyard lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My sister and my brother;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the churchyard cottage, I<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dwell near them with my mother.<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>--></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You say that two at Conway dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And two are gone to sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet ye are seven!—I pray you, tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet maid, how this may be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then did the little maid reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seven boys and girls are we;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two of us in the churchyard lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the churchyard tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You run about, my little maid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your limbs they are alive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If two are in the churchyard laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then ye are only five.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their graves are green, they may be seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The little maid replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twelve steps or more from mother’s door<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And they are side by side.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-060.jpg" width="400" height="567" alt="The Churchyard." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Churchyard.</span> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>--> +<span class="i0">My stockings there I often knit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My kerchief there I hem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there upon the ground I sit—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I sit and sing to them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And often after sunset, sir,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When it is light and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I take my little porringer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And eat my supper there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The first that died was little Jane;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In bed she moaning lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till God released her of her pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then she went away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So in the churchyard she was laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when the grass was dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Together round her grave we played,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My brother John and I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when the ground was white with snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I could run and slide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My brother John was forced to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he lies by her side.<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>--></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How many are you, then, said I,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If they two are in Heaven?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little maiden did reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O master! we are seven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But they are dead, those two are dead!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their spirits are in heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Twas throwing words away; for still<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The little maid would have her will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said, Nay, we are seven.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-062.jpg" width="250" height="211" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>--> +<a name="xiv" id="xiv"></a>THE IDLE BOY.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-063.jpg" width="250" height="205" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Thomas</span> was an idle lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And loung’d about all day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though he many a lesson had,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He minded nought but play.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He only car’d for top or ball,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or marbles, hoop or kite:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as for learning, that was all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Neglected by him quite.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 557px;"> +<img src="images/i-064.jpg" width="557" height="400" alt="The Idle Boy." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Idle Boy.</span> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>--> +<span class="i0">In vain his mother’s kind advice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vain his master’s care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He follow’d ev’ry idle vice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And learnt to curse and swear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And think you, when he grew a man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He prosper’d in his ways?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No; wicked courses never can<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bring good and happy days.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Without a shilling in his purse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or cot to call his own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor Thomas grew from bad to worse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And harden’d as a stone.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-065.jpg" width="250" height="197" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>--> +<span class="i0">And oh, it grieves me much to write<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His melancholy end;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then let us leave the dreadful sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thoughts of pity send.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But may we this important truth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Observe and ever hold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“All those who’re idle in their youth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will suffer when they’re old.”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-066.jpg" width="250" height="134" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="xv" id="xv"></a>CASABIANCA.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-067.jpg" width="250" height="183" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> boy stood on the burning deck,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whence all but him had fled!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flame that lit the battle’s wreck,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shone round him o’er the dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet beautiful and bright he stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As born to rule the storm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A creature of heroic blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A proud though childlike form.<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>--></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flames rolled on—he would not go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without his father’s word;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That father, faint in death below,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His voice no longer heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He called aloud—Say, father, say<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If yet my task is done?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knew not that the chieftain lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unconscious of his son.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Speak, father! once again he cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If I may yet be gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And but the booming shots replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fast the flames rolled on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon his brow he felt their breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in his waving hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looked from that lone post of death<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In still, yet brave despair,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And shouted but once more aloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My father! must I stay!<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>--><br /></span> +<span class="i0">While o’er him fast, through sail and shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wreathing fires made way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They wrapt the ship in splendor wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They caught the flag on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And streamed above the gallant child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like banners in the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There came a burst of thunder sound:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The boy—O, where was he?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask of the winds, that far around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With fragments strewed the sea—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That well had borne their part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the noblest thing that perished there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was that young faithful heart.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-069.jpg" width="250" height="196" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr /> + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i-070.jpg" width="400" height="587" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="xvi" id="xvi"></a>Twinkle, twinkle, little Star.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + + +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>--> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-071.jpg" width="250" height="194" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="block25"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Twinkle</span>, twinkle, little star;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I wonder what you are!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up above the world so high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a diamond in the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the blazing sun is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he nothing shines upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then you show your little light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.<br /></span> +<!--<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>--></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the traveller in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thanks you for your tiny spark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He could not see which way to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you did not twinkle so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the dark blue sky you keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often through my curtains peep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For you never shut your eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the sun is in the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As your bright and tiny spark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lights the traveller in the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I know not what you are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twinkle, twinkle, little star.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-072.jpg" width="250" height="186" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Phebe, the Blackberry Girl, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHEBE, THE BLACKBERRY GIRL *** + +***** This file should be named 28660-h.htm or 28660-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/6/6/28660/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/American +Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..38952d1 --- /dev/null +++ b/28660-h/images/i-069.jpg diff --git a/28660-h/images/i-070.jpg b/28660-h/images/i-070.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a0af5ae --- /dev/null +++ b/28660-h/images/i-070.jpg diff --git a/28660-h/images/i-071.jpg b/28660-h/images/i-071.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd91b88 --- /dev/null +++ b/28660-h/images/i-071.jpg diff --git a/28660-h/images/i-072.jpg b/28660-h/images/i-072.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..38c6cf3 --- /dev/null +++ b/28660-h/images/i-072.jpg diff --git a/28660.txt b/28660.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6004654 --- /dev/null +++ b/28660.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1362 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Phebe, the Blackberry Girl, by Anonymous + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Phebe, the Blackberry Girl + Uncle Thomas's Stories for Good Children + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: May 2, 2009 [EBook #28660] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHEBE, THE BLACKBERRY GIRL *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/American +Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + +PHEBE, THE BLACKBERRY GIRL + + + + +UNCLE THOMAS'S + +STORIES + +FOR + +GOOD CHILDREN. + + + + +[Illustration: UNCLE THOMAS.] + + + + +PHEBE, + +THE BLACKBERRY GIRL. + +[Illustration] + +NEW-YORK: + +LIVERMORE & RUDD + +310 BROADWAY + +1856. + + +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847 + +By EDWARD LIVERMORE, + +In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + +Uncle Thomas's Stories for Good Children. + + +The design of this series of unpretending little books, is, to give to +the Young information, joined with amusement. + +They are prepared for young children, and if, from the reading of these +stories, they acquire a love for good books, the compiler's object will +be accomplished. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + + THE BLACKBERRY GIRL, PART I., 9 + + THE BLACKBERRY GIRL, PART II., 19 + + GOOD CHILDREN, 23 + + POOR CRAZY ROBERT, 25 + + THE PET LAMB, 29 + + FATHER WILLIAM AND THE YOUNG MAN, 37 + + THE LITTLE GIRL AND HER PETS, 39 + + THE FLOWERS, 43 + + THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS, 45 + + ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE, 49 + + WASHING AND DRESSING, 51 + + THE INDUSTRIOUS BOY, 55 + + WE ARE SEVEN, 57 + + THE IDLE BOY, 63 + + CASABIANCA, 67 + + TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR, 71 + + + + +[Illustration: Phebe, the Blackberry Girl.] + +THE BLACKBERRY GIRL. + +PART I. + + + "Why, Phebe, are you come so soon, + Where are your berries, child? + You cannot, sure, have sold them all, + You had a basket pil'd." + + "No, mother, as I climb'd the fence, + The nearest way to town, + My apron caught upon a stake, + And so I tumbled down. + + "I scratched my arm, and tore my hair, + But still did not complain; + And had my blackberries been safe, + Should not have cared a grain. + +[Illustration: Phebe and her Mother.] + + "But when I saw them on the ground + All scattered by my side, + I pick'd my empty basket up, + And down I sat and cried. + + "Just then a pretty little Miss + Chanced to be walking by; + She stopp'd, and looking pitiful, + She begg'd me not to cry. + + "'Poor little girl, you fell,' said she, + 'And must be sadly hurt'-- + 'O, no,' I cried, 'but see my fruit, + All mixed with sand and dirt!' + + "'Well, do not grieve for that,' she said + 'Go home, and get some more:' + Ah, no, for I have stripp'd the vines, + These were the last they bore. + + "My father, Miss, is very poor, + And works in yonder stall; + He has so many little ones, + He cannot clothe us all. + + "I always long'd to go to church, + But never could I go; + For when I ask'd him for a gown, + He always answer'd, 'No.' + + "'There's not a father in the world + That loves his children more; + I'd get you one with all my heart, + But, Phebe, I am poor.' + + "But when the blackberries were ripe + He said to me one day, + 'Phebe, if you will take the time + That's given you for play, + + "'And gather blackberries enough,-- + And carry them to town,-- + To buy your bonnet and your shoes, + I'll try to get a gown.' + +[Illustration: Phebe and Billy going to School.] + + "O Miss, I fairly jumped for joy, + My spirits were so light: + And so, when I had leave to play, + I pick'd with all my might. + + "I sold enough to get my shoes, + About a week ago; + And these, if they had not been spilt, + Would buy a bonnet too. + + "But now they are gone, they all are gone + And I can get no more, + And Sundays I must stay at home + Just as I did before. + + "And, mother, then I cried again, + As hard as I could cry; + And, looking up, I saw a tear + Was standing in her eye. + + "She caught her bonnet from her head-- + 'Here, here,' she cried, 'take this!' + O, no, indeed--I fear your 'ma + Would be offended Miss. + +[Illustration] + + "'My 'ma! no, never! she delights + All sorrow to beguile; + And 'tis the sweetest joy she feels, + To make the wretched smile. + + "'She taught me when I had enough, + To share it with the poor: + And never let a needy child + Go empty from the door. + +[Illustration: The Church the Blackberry Girl went to.] + + "'So take it, for you need not fear + Offending her, you see; + I have another, too, at home, + And one's enough for me.' + + "So then I took it,--here it is-- + For pray what could I do? + And, mother, I shall love that Miss + As long as I love you." + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration: Phebe with a Basket of Berries.] + +THE BLACKBERRY GIRL. + +PART II. + + + "What have you in that basket, child?" + "Blackberries, Miss, all pick'd to-day; + They're very large and fully ripe; + Do look at them, and taste them pray." + + "O yes: they're very nice, indeed. + Here's fourpence--that will buy a few: + Not quite so many as I want-- + However, I must make it do." + + "Nay, Miss, but you must take the whole;" + "I can't, indeed, my money's spent; + I should be glad to buy them all, + But I have not another cent." + + "And if you had a thousand, Miss, + I'd not accept of one from you. + Pray take them, they are all your own, + And take the little basket, too. + + "Have you forgot the little girl + You last year gave a bonnet to? + Perhaps you have--but ever will + That little girl remember you. + + "And ever since, I've been to church, + For much do I delight to go; + And there I learn that works of love + Are what all children ought to do. + + "So then I thought within myself, + That pretty basket, Billy wove, + I'll fill with fruit for that dear Miss, + For sure 'twill be a work of love. + + "And so one morning up I rose, + While yet the fields were wet with dew + And pick'd the nicest I could find, + And brought them, fresh and sweet, for you. + + "I know the gift is small indeed, + For such a lady to receive; + But still I hope you'll not refuse + All that poor Phebe has to give." + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration: Good Children learning their Hymn.] + +GOOD CHILDREN. + + + How lovely, how charming the sight + When children their Savior obey! + The angels look down with delight, + This beautiful scene to survey. + + Little Samuel was holy and good; + Obadiah served God from his youth, + And Timothy well understood, + From a child, the Scripture of truth. + + But Jesus was better than they: + From a child he was spotless and pure, + His parents he loved to obey, + And God's perfect will to endure. + + Like Samuel, Lord, I would be. + Obadiah and Timothy, too; + And oh! grant thy help unto me, + The steps of my Lord to pursue. + + Make me humble, and holy, and mild, + From the wicked constrain me to flee, + And then though I am but a child, + My soul shall find favor of thee. + +[Illustration] + + + + +POOR CRAZY ROBERT. + + + Poor Robert is crazy, his hair is turn'd gray, + His beard has grown long, and hangs down to his breast; + Misfortune has taken his reason away, + His heart has no comfort, his head has no rest. + + Poor man, it would please me to soften thy woes, + To soothe thy affliction, and yield thee support; + But see through the village, wherever he goes, + The cruel boys follow, and turn him to sport. + +[Illustration: Poor Crazy Robert.] + + 'Tis grievous to see how the pitiless mob + Run round him and mimic his mournful complaint, + And try to provoke him, and call him old Bob, + And hunt him about till he's ready to faint. + + But ah! wicked children, I fear they forget + That God does their cruel diversion behold, + And that in his book dreadful curses are writ, + For those who shall mock at the poor and the old. + + Poor Robert, thy troubles will shortly be o'er, + Forget in the grave thy misfortunes will be; + But God will his vengeance assuredly pour + On those wicked children who persecute thee. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration: The Pet Lamb.] + +THE PET LAMB. + + + The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink + I heard a voice: it said, Drink, pretty creature, drink! + And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied + A snow-white mountain Lamb with a maiden at its side. + + No other sheep were near; the Lamb was all alone, + And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone; + With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel, + While to that mountain Lamb she gave its evening meal. + + The Lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took, + Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with + pleasure shook. + Drink, pretty creature, drink, she said in such a tone + That I almost received her heart into my own. + + 'Twas little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty rare! + I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair: + Now with her empty can the maiden turned away; + But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay. + + Towards the Lamb she looked; and from that shady place + I unobserved could see the workings of her face; + If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring, + Thus, thought I, to her Lamb that little maid might sing! + + What ails thee, young one? what? why pull so at thy cord? + Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board? + Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be; + Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee? + + What is it thou wouldst seek? what is wanting to thy heart? + Thy limbs are they not strong? And beautiful thou art: + This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers; + And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears! + + If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain; + This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain! + For rain and mountain storms, the like thou need'st not fear; + The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here. + + Rest little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day + When my father found thee first in places far away; + Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none, + And thy mother from thy side forevermore was gone. + +[Illustration] + + He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home! + A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam? + A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean + Upon the mountain tops no kinder could have been. + + Thou knowest that twice a day I brought thee in this can + Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran; + And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew, + I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new. + + Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now; + Then I'll yoke thee to my cart, like a pony in the plough; + My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold + Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold. + +[Illustration] + + It will not, will not rest! poor creature, can it be + That 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in thee? + Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear, + And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear. + + Alas, the mountain tops that look so green and fair! + I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there: + The little brooks that seem all pastime and at play + When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey. + + Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky; + Night and day thou art safe,--our cottage is hard by. + Why bleat so after me? why pull so at thy chain? + Sleep--and at break of day I will come to thee again. + + As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet, + This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat; + And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line, + That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine. + + Again, and once again, did I repeat the song; + Nay, said I, more than half to the damsel must belong; + For she looked with such a look, and she spake with such a tone, + That I almost received her heart into my own. + + + + +[Illustration: Father William and the Young Man.] + +FATHER WILLIAM AND THE YOUNG MAN. + + + You are old, Father William, the young man cries + The few locks which are left you are gray: + You appear, Father William, a healthy old man, + Now tell me the reason, I pray. + + When I was a youth, Father William replied, + I remembered that youth would fly fast: + I abused not my health and my vigor at first, + That I never might need them at last. + + You are old, Father William, the young man said, + And pleasures, with youth, pass away; + And yet you repent not the days that are gone + Now tell me the reason, I pray. + + When I was a youth, Father William replied, + I remembered that youth could not last: + I thought of the future, whatever I did, + That I never might grieve for the past. + + You are old, Father William, the young man still cries, + And life is swift hastening away. + You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death! + Come tell me the reason, I pray. + + I am cheerful, young man, Father William replied; + Let the cause your attention engage: + In the days of my youth I remembered my God! + And he hath not forgotten my age. + + + + +The little Girl and her Pets. + +[Illustration] + + + _Girl._ Swallow, thou dear one! now thou, indeed, + From thy wandering dost reappear, + Tell me, who is it to thee that hath said + That again it is spring-time here. + + _Swa._ The fatherly God, in that far-off clime, + Who sent me, he told me 'twas sweet spring-time. + + And though she had come so far and wide, + She was not deceived in time or tide. + The snow it was gone, the sun shone warm, + The merry gnats danced in many a swarm, + The Swallow knew neither want nor care, + She found for her children enough and to spare. + + _Girl._ Come, little Dog, 'tis your master's will + That you learn to sit upright and still. + + _Dog._ Learn must I? I'm so small, you see, + Just for a little while let it be! + + _Girl._ No, little Dog, it is far best to learn soon, + For later it would be more painfully done. + + The little Dog learned, without more ado, + And soon could sit upright and walk upright too; + In deepest waters unfearing could spring, + And whatever was lost could speedily bring. + The master saw his pleasure, and he too began + To learn, and thus grew up a wise, good man. + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE FLOWERS. + + + Say, Ma! did God make all the flowers + That richly bloom to-day? + And is it he that sends sweet showers + To make them look so gay? + + Did he make all the mountains + That rear their heads so high? + And all the little fountains + That glide so gently by? + + And does he care for children small? + Say, ma! does God love me? + Has he the guardian care of all + The various things we see? + + Yes! yes! my child, he made them all-- + Flowers, mountains, plants and trees. + No man so great, no child so small, + That from his eye can flee. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS. + + + Put up thy work, dear mother; + Dear mother, come with me, + For I've found within the garden + The beautiful sweet-pea! + + And rows of stately hollyhocks + Down by the garden-wall, + All yellow, white and crimson, + So many-hued and tall! + [Illustration: "Put up thy work, dear Mother."] + + And bending on their stalks, mother + Are roses white and red; + And pale-stemmed balsams all a-blow, + On every garden-bed. + + Put up thy work, I pray thee, + And come out, mother dear! + We used to buy these flowers, + But they are growing here! + + O, mother! little Amy + Would have loved these flowers to see; + Dost remember how we tried to get + For her a pink sweet-pea? + + Dost remember how she loved + Those rose-leaves pale and sere? + I wish she had but lived to see + The lovely roses here! + + Put up thy work, dear mother, + And wipe those tears away! + And come into the garden + Before 'tis set of day! + + + + +[Illustration] + +ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE. + + + One, two, + Buckle my shoe; + Three, four, + Shut the door; + Five, six, + Pick up sticks; + Seven, eight, + Lay them straight; + Nine, ten, + A good fat hen; + Eleven, twelve, + Who will delve? + Thirteen, fourteen, + Maids a courting; + Fifteen, sixteen, + Maids a kissing; + Seventeen, eighteen, + Maids a waiting; + Nineteen, twenty, + My stomach's empty. + +[Illustration] + + + + +WASHING AND DRESSING. + +[Illustration] + + + Ah! why will my dear little girl be so cross, + And cry, and look sulky and pout? + To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss, + I can't even kiss her without. + + You say you don't like to be washed and be drest + But would you be dirty and foul? + Come, drive that long sob from your dear little breast, + And clear your sweet face from its scowl. + + If the water is cold, and the comb hurts your head, + And the soap has got into your eye, + Will the water grow warmer for all that you've said? + And what good will it do you to cry? + + It is not to tease you, and hurt you, my sweet, + But only for kindness and care, + That I wash you and dress you, and make you look neat, + And comb out your tanglesome hair. + + I don't mind the trouble, if you would not cry, + But pay me for all with a kiss; + That's right, take the towel and wipe your wet eye; + I thought you'd be good after this. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE INDUSTRIOUS BOY. + + + In a cottage upon the heath wild, + That always was cleanly and nice, + Liv'd William, a good little child, + Who minded his parents' advice. + + 'Tis true he lov'd marbles and kite, + And spin-top, and nine-pins, and ball; + But this I declare with delight, + His book he loved better than all. + + In active and useful employ + His youth gayly glided away + While rational pleasures and joy + Attended his steps every day. + + And now let us see him grown up; + Still cheerfulness dwelt in his mind, + Contentment yet sweeten'd his cup, + For still he was active and kind. + + His garden well loaded with store, + His cot by the side of the green, + Where woodbines crept over the door, + And jessamines peep'd in between. + + These fill'd him with honest delight, + And rewarded him well for his toil: + He went to bed cheerful at night, + And woke in the morn with a smile. + +[Illustration] + + + + +WE ARE SEVEN. + +BY WM. WORDSWORTH. + + + A simple child, + That lightly draws its breath, + And feels its life in every limb. + What should it know of death! + + I met a little cottage girl: + She was eight years old, she said, + Her hair was thick with many a curl + That clustered round her head. + + She had a rustic woodland air, + And she was wildly clad: + Her eyes were fair, and very fair + Her beauty made me glad. + + Sisters and brothers, little maid, + How many may you be? + How many? Seven in all, she said, + And wondering looked at me. + +[Illustration] + + And where are they? I pray you tell. + She answered seven are we; + And two of us at Conway dwell, + And two are gone to sea. + + Two of us in the churchyard lie, + My sister and my brother; + And in the churchyard cottage, I + Dwell near them with my mother. + + You say that two at Conway dwell, + And two are gone to sea, + Yet ye are seven!--I pray you, tell, + Sweet maid, how this may be. + + Then did the little maid reply, + Seven boys and girls are we; + Two of us in the churchyard lie, + Beneath the churchyard tree. + + You run about, my little maid + Your limbs they are alive; + If two are in the churchyard laid, + Then ye are only five. + + Their graves are green, they may be seen. + The little maid replied, + Twelve steps or more from mother's door + And they are side by side. + +[Illustration: The Churchyard.] + + My stockings there I often knit, + My kerchief there I hem; + And there upon the ground I sit-- + I sit and sing to them. + + And often after sunset, sir, + When it is light and fair, + I take my little porringer, + And eat my supper there. + + The first that died was little Jane; + In bed she moaning lay, + Till God released her of her pain; + And then she went away. + + So in the churchyard she was laid; + And when the grass was dry, + Together round her grave we played, + My brother John and I. + + And when the ground was white with snow, + And I could run and slide, + My brother John was forced to go, + And he lies by her side. + + How many are you, then, said I, + If they two are in Heaven? + The little maiden did reply, + O master! we are seven. + + But they are dead, those two are dead! + Their spirits are in heaven! + 'Twas throwing words away; for still + The little maid would have her will, + And said, Nay, we are seven. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE IDLE BOY. + + + Thomas was an idle lad, + And loung'd about all day; + And though he many a lesson had, + He minded nought but play. + + He only car'd for top or ball, + Or marbles, hoop or kite: + But as for learning, that was all + Neglected by him quite. + +[Illustration: The Idle Boy.] + + In vain his mother's kind advice, + In vain his master's care; + He follow'd ev'ry idle vice, + And learnt to curse and swear! + + And think you, when he grew a man, + He prosper'd in his ways? + No; wicked courses never can + Bring good and happy days. + + Without a shilling in his purse, + Or cot to call his own, + Poor Thomas grew from bad to worse + And harden'd as a stone. + +[Illustration] + + And oh, it grieves me much to write + His melancholy end; + Then let us leave the dreadful sight, + And thoughts of pity send. + + But may we this important truth + Observe and ever hold: + "All those who're idle in their youth + Will suffer when they're old." + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CASABIANCA. + + + The boy stood on the burning deck, + Whence all but him had fled! + The flame that lit the battle's wreck, + Shone round him o'er the dead. + + Yet beautiful and bright he stood, + As born to rule the storm; + A creature of heroic blood, + A proud though childlike form. + + The flames rolled on--he would not go, + Without his father's word; + That father, faint in death below, + His voice no longer heard. + + He called aloud--Say, father, say + If yet my task is done? + He knew not that the chieftain lay + Unconscious of his son. + + Speak, father! once again he cried, + If I may yet be gone; + And but the booming shots replied, + And fast the flames rolled on. + + Upon his brow he felt their breath, + And in his waving hair; + And looked from that lone post of death + In still, yet brave despair, + + And shouted but once more aloud, + My father! must I stay! + While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, + The wreathing fires made way. + + They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, + They caught the flag on high, + And streamed above the gallant child, + Like banners in the sky. + + There came a burst of thunder sound: + The boy--O, where was he? + Ask of the winds, that far around + With fragments strewed the sea-- + + With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, + That well had borne their part; + But the noblest thing that perished there + Was that young faithful heart. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +Twinkle, twinkle, little Star. + + + Twinkle, twinkle, little star; + How I wonder what you are! + Up above the world so high, + Like a diamond in the sky. + + When the blazing sun is gone, + When he nothing shines upon, + Then you show your little light + Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. + + Then the traveller in the dark + Thanks you for your tiny spark! + He could not see which way to go, + If you did not twinkle so. + + In the dark blue sky you keep, + And often through my curtains peep + For you never shut your eye + Till the sun is in the sky. + + As your bright and tiny spark + Lights the traveller in the dark, + Though I know not what you are, + Twinkle, twinkle, little star. + +[Illustration] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Phebe, the Blackberry Girl, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHEBE, THE BLACKBERRY GIRL *** + +***** This file should be named 28660.txt or 28660.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/6/6/28660/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/American +Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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