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+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
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