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diff --git a/30494-h/30494-h.htm b/30494-h/30494-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..68bbaf7 --- /dev/null +++ b/30494-h/30494-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3867 @@ +<!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 The Adventures of a Brownie, by Miss Mulock. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + .blockquot2{margin-left: 55%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 70%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + .chapter {font-size: 145%; margin-top: .75em; margin-left: 43%; + margin-bottom: .25em; font-weight: bold;} + .title {font-size: 120%; margin-top: .75em; margin-left: 43%; + margin-bottom: .25em; font-weight: bold;} + table.one {width: 600px; text-align: center; background-image: + url("images/i006.jpg"); background-repeat: no-repeat;} + table.two {width: 600px; text-align: center; background-image: + url("images/i010.jpg"); background-repeat: no-repeat;} + table.three {width: 600px; text-align: center; background-image: + url("images/i014.jpg"); background-repeat: no-repeat;} + table.four {width: 600px; text-align: center; background-image: + url("images/i018.jpg"); background-repeat: no-repeat;} + table.five {width: 600px; text-align: center; background-image: + url("images/i022.jpg"); background-repeat: no-repeat;} + table.six {width: 600px; text-align: center; background-image: + url("images/i026.jpg"); background-repeat: no-repeat;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align:baseline; + position: relative; + bottom: 0.33em; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + .cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left; margin: -0.2em 0.1em 0; margin-top: 0%; + padding: 0; line-height: .75em; font-size: 300%; text-align: justify;} + .cap {text-align: justify;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30494 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="452" height="600" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 435px;"> +<img src="images/i002.jpg" width="435" height="600" alt="Frontispiece" title="" /> +</div><hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 429px;"> +<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="429" height="600" alt="Title" title="" /> +</div><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1><span class="smcap">The Adventures of</span><br /> + +<span class="smcap">A Brownie</span></h1> + +<h2>AS TOLD TO MY CHILD</h2> + +<h2>BY MISS MULOCK</h2> + + + +<h3>·ILLUSTRATED·</h3> + +<div class='center'> +NEW YORK<br /> +McLOUGHLIN BROTHERS<br /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + + + +<div class='copyright'>COPYRIGHTED—1908—BY McLOUGHLIN BROS.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i004.png" width="500" height="156" alt="CONTENTS" title="" /> +</div> + + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Adventure the First</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Brownie and the Cook</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><span class="smcap">Adventure the Second</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Brownie and the Cherry-tree</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><span class="smcap">Adventure the Third</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Brownie in the Farmyard</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><span class="smcap">Adventure the Fourth</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Brownie's Ride</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><span class="smcap">Adventure the Fifth</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Brownie on the Ice</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><span class="smcap">Adventure the Sixth and Last</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Brownie and the Clothes</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><span class="smcap">Poems</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Blackbird and the Rooks</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Shaking of the Pear-tree</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Wonderful Apple-tree</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Jealous Boy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Story of the Birkenhead</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Birds in the Snow</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Little Comforter</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Don't Be Afraid</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Girl and Boy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Agnes at Prayer</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Going to Work</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Three Companions</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Motherless Child</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Wren's Nest</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A Child's Smile</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Over the Hills and Far Away</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Two Raindrops</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Year's End</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Running After the Rainbow</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dick and I</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Grandpapa</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Monsieur et Mademoiselle</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Young Dandelion</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A September Robin</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 232px;"> +<img src="images/i005.jpg" width="232" height="400" alt="Going home" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'><table class="one" summary="one"> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<div class='chapter'>THE ADVENTURES OF A<br /> BROWNIE<br /><br /> +ADVENTURE THE FIRST</div> + +<div class='title'>BROWNIE AND THE COOK</div><br /><br /> +</td> +</tr></table></div> + +<div class='cap'>THERE was once a little Brownie, who lived—where do you +think he lived? in a coal-cellar.</div> + +<p>Now a coal-cellar may seem a most curious place to choose to live +in; but then a Brownie is a curious creature—a fairy, and yet not +one of that sort of fairies who fly about on gossamer wings, and +dance in the moonlight, and so on. He never dances; and as to +wings, what use would they be to him in a coal-cellar? He is a sober, +stay-at-home, household elf—nothing much to look at, even if you +did see him, which you are not likely to do—only a little old man, +about a foot high, all dressed in brown, with a brown face and hands, +and a brown peaked cap, just the color of a brown mouse. And, +like a mouse, he hides in corners—especially kitchen corners, and +only comes out after dark when nobody is about, and so sometimes +people call him Mr. Nobody.</p> + +<p>I said you were not likely to see him. I never did, certainly, and +never knew any body that did; but still, if you were to go into Devonshire,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +you would hear many funny stories about Brownies in general, +and so I may as well tell you the adventures of this particular Brownie, +who belonged to a family there; which family he had followed from +house to house, most faithfully, for years and years.</p> + +<p>A good many people had heard him—or supposed they had—when +there were extraordinary noises about the house; noises which +must have come from a mouse or a rat—or a Brownie. But nobody +had ever seen him except the children—the three little boys and +three little girls—who declared he often came to play with them when +they were alone, and was the nicest companion in the world, though +he was such an old man—hundreds of years old! He was full of fun +and mischief, and up to all sorts of tricks, but he never did any body +any harm unless they deserved it.</p> + +<p>Brownie was supposed to live under one particular coal, in the +darkest corner of the cellar, which was never allowed to be disturbed. +Why he had chosen it nobody knew, and how he lived there, nobody +knew either, nor what he lived upon. Except that, ever since the +family could remember, there had always been a bowl of milk put +behind the coal-cellar door for the Brownie's supper. Perhaps he +drank it—perhaps he didn't: anyhow, the bowl was always found +empty next morning. The old Cook, who had lived all her life in +the family, had never forgotten to give Brownie his supper; but at +last she died, and a young cook came in her stead, who was very +apt to forget every thing. She was also both careless and lazy, and +disliked taking the trouble to put a bowl of milk in the same place +every night for Mr. Nobody. "She didn't believe in Brownies," +she said; "she had never seen one, and seeing's believing." So she +laughed at the other servants, who looked very grave, and put the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +bowl of milk in its place as often as they could, without saying much +about it.</p> + +<p>But once, when Brownie woke up, at his usual hour for rising—ten +o'clock at night, and looked round in search of his supper—which +was, in fact, his breakfast—he found nothing there. At first +he could not imagine such neglect, and went smelling and smelling +about for his bowl of milk—it was not always placed in the same +corner now—but in vain.</p> + +<p>"This will never do," said he; and being extremely hungry, began +running about the coal-cellar to see what he could find. His eyes +were as useful in the dark as in the light—like a pussy-cat's; but +there was nothing to be seen—not even a potato paring, or a dry +crust, or a well-gnawed bone, such as Tiny the terrier sometimes +brought into the coal-cellar and left on the floor—nothing, in short, +but heaps of coals and coal-dust; and even a Brownie cannot eat +that, you know.</p> + +<p>"Can't stand this; quite impossible!" said the Brownie, tightening +his belt to make his poor little inside feel less empty. He had been +asleep so long—about a week, I believe, as was his habit when there +was nothing to do—that he seemed ready to eat his own head, or his +boots, or any thing. 'What's to be done? Since nobody brings +my supper, I must go and fetch it.'</p> + +<p>He spoke quickly, for he always thought quickly, and made up +his mind in a minute. To be sure it was a very little mind, +like his little body; but he did the best he could with it, and +was not a bad sort of old fellow, after all. In the house he had +never done any harm, and often some good, for he frightened away +all the rats, mice, and black-beetles. Not the crickets—he liked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +them, as the old Cook had done: she said they were such cheerful +creatures, and always brought luck to the house. But the young +Cook could not bear them, and used to pour boiling water down their +holes, and set basins of beer for them with little wooden bridges up +to the brim, that they might walk up, tumble in, and be drowned.</p> + +<p>So there was not even a cricket singing in the silent house when +Brownie put his head out of his coal-cellar door, which, to his surprise, +he found open. Old Cook used to lock it every night, but the +young Cook had left that key, and the kitchen and pantry keys too, +all dangling in the lock, so that any thief might have got in, and +wandered all over the house without being found out.</p> + +<p>"Hurrah, here's luck!" cried Brownie, tossing his cap up in the +air, and bounding right through the scullery into the kitchen. It +was quite empty, but there was a good fire burning itself out—just +for its own amusement, and the remains of a capital supper spread +on the table—enough for half a dozen people being left still.</p> + +<p>Would you like to know what there was? Devonshire cream, of +course; and part of a large dish of junket, which is something like +curds and whey. Lots of bread-and-butter and cheese, and half +an apple-pudding. Also a great jug of cider and another of milk, and +several half-full glasses, and no end of dirty plates, knives, and forks. +All were scattered about the table in the most untidy fashion, just +as the servants had risen from their supper, without thinking to put +any thing away.</p> + +<p>Brownie screwed up his little old face and turned up his button +of a nose, and gave a long whistle. You might not believe it, seeing +he lived in a coal-cellar; but really he liked <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'tidiness,and'">tidiness, and</ins> always played +his pranks upon disorderly or slovenly folk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 347px;"> +<img src="images/i007.jpg" width="347" height="500" alt="He wanted his supper, and oh! what a supper he did eat!—Page 11" title="" /> +<span class="caption">He wanted his supper, and oh! what a supper he did eat!—Page 11</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Whew!" said he; "here's a chance. What a supper I'll get +now!"</p> + +<p>And he jumped on to a chair and thence to the table, but so quietly +that the large black cat with four white paws, called Muff, because +she was so fat and soft and her fur so long, who sat dozing in front +of the fire, just opened one eye and went to sleep again. She had +tried to get her nose into the milk-jug, but it was too small; and the +junket-dish was too deep for her to reach, except with one paw. She +didn't care much for bread and cheese and apple-pudding, and was +very well fed besides; so, after just wandering round the table, she +had jumped down from it again, and settled herself to sleep on the +hearth.</p> + +<p>But Brownie had no notion of going to sleep. He wanted his +supper, and oh! what a supper he did eat! first one thing and then +another, and then trying every thing all over again. And oh! what +a lot he drank—first milk and then cider, and then mixed the two +together in a way that would have disagreed with any body except +a Brownie. As it was, he was obliged to slacken his belt several +times, and at last took it off altogether. But he must have had a most +extraordinary capacity for eating and drinking—since, after he had +nearly cleared the table, he was just as lively as if he had had no +supper at all.</p> + +<p>Now his jumping was a little awkward, for there happened to be +a clean white tablecloth: as this was only Monday, it had had no +time to get dirty—untidy as the Cook was. And you know Brownie +lived in a coal-cellar, and his feet were black with running about in +coal dust. So wherever he trod, he left the impression behind, until +at last the whole tablecloth was covered with black marks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> + +<p>Not that he minded this; in fact, he took great pains to make the +cloth as dirty as possible; and then laughing loudly, "Ho, ho, ho!" +leaped on to the hearth, and began teasing the cat; squeaking like a +mouse, or chirping like a cricket, or buzzing like a fly; and altogether +disturbing poor Pussy's mind so much, that she went and hid herself +in the farthest corner, and left him the hearth all to himself, where +he lay at ease till daybreak.</p> + +<p>Then, hearing a slight noise overhead, which might be the servants +getting up, he jumped on to the table <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'agan'">again</ins>—gobbled up the +few remaining crumbs for his breakfast, and scampered off to his +coal-cellar; where he hid himself under his big coal, and fell asleep +for the day.</p> + +<p>Well, the Cook came downstairs rather earlier than usual, for she +remembered she had to clear off the remains of supper; but lo and +behold, there was nothing left to clear. Every bit of food was eaten +up—the cheese looked as if a dozen mice had been nibbling at it, +and nibbled it down to the very rind; the milk and cider were all +drunk—and mice don't care for milk and cider, you know. As for +the apple-pudding, it had vanished altogether; and the dish was +licked as clean as if Boxer, the yard-dog, had been at it in his hungriest +mood.</p> + +<p>"And my white table-cloth—oh, my clean white table-cloth! +What can have been done to it?" cried she, in amazement. For it +was all over little black footmarks, just the size of a baby's foot—only +babies don't wear shoes with nails in them, and don't run about +and climb on kitchen tables after all the family have gone to bed.</p> + +<p>Cook was a little frightened; but her fright changed to anger when +she saw the large black cat stretched comfortably on the hearth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +Poor Muff had crept there for a little snooze after Brownie went +away.</p> + +<p>"You nasty cat! I see it all now; it's you that have eaten up all +the supper; it's you that have been on my clean table-cloth with +your dirty paws."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 182px;"> +<img src="images/i008.jpg" width="182" height="350" alt="Cook beat poor Pussy till the creature ran mewing away" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Cook beat poor Pussy till the creature ran mewing away</span> +</div> + +<p>They were white paws, and as +clean as possible; but the Cook +never thought of that, any more +than she did of the fact that cats +don't usually drink cider or eat +apple-pudding.</p> + +<p>"I'll teach you to come stealing +food in this way; take that—and +that—and that!"</p> + +<p>Cook got hold of a broom and +beat poor Pussy till the creature +ran mewing away. She couldn't +speak, you know—unfortunate +cat! and tell people that it was +Brownie who had done it all.</p> + +<p>Next night Cook thought she +would make all safe and sure; so, +instead of letting the cat sleep by +the fire, she shut her up in the chilly coal-cellar, locked the door, +put the key in her pocket, and went off to bed—leaving the +supper as before.</p> + +<p>When Brownie woke up and looked out of his hole, there was, as +usual, no supper for him, and the cellar was close shut. He peered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +about, to try and find some cranny under the door to creep out at, +but there was none. And he felt so hungry that he could almost +have eaten the cat, who kept walking to and fro in a melancholy +manner—only she was alive, and he couldn't well eat her alive: +besides, he knew she was old, and had an idea she might be tough; +so he merely said, politely, "How do you do, Mrs. Pussy?" to which +she answered nothing—of course.</p> + +<p>Something must be done, and luckily Brownies can do things +which nobody else can do. So he thought he would change himself +into a mouse, and gnaw a hole through the door. But then he suddenly +remembered the cat, who, though he had decided not to eat +her, might take this opportunity of eating him. So he thought it +advisable to wait till she was fast asleep, which did not happen for +a good while. At length, quite tired with walking about, Pussy +turned round on her tail six times, curled down in a corner, and fell +fast asleep.</p> + +<p>Immediately Brownie changed himself into the smallest mouse +possible; and, taking care not to make the least noise, gnawed a +hole in the door, and squeezed himself through, immediately turning +into his proper shape again, for fear of accidents.</p> + +<p>The kitchen fire was at its last glimmer; but it showed a better +supper than even last night, for the Cook had had friends with her—a +brother and two cousins—and they had been exceedingly merry. +The food they had left behind was enough for three Brownies at +least, but this one managed to eat it all up. Only once, in trying to +cut a great slice of beef, he let the carving-knife and fork fall with +such a clatter, that Tiny the terrier, who was tied up at the foot of +the stairs, began to bark furiously. However, he brought her her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +puppy, which had been left in a basket in a corner of the kitchen, and +so succeeded in quieting her.</p> + +<p>After that he enjoyed himself amazingly, and made more marks +than ever on the white table-cloth; for he began jumping about like +a pea on a trencher, in order to make his particularly large supper +agree with him.</p> + +<p>Then, in the absence of the cat, he teased the puppy for an hour or +two, till hearing the clock strike five, he thought it as well to turn into +a mouse again, and creep back cautiously into his cellar. He was +only just in time, for Muff opened one eye, and was just going to +pounce upon him, when he changed himself back into a Brownie. +She was so startled that she bounded away, her tail growing into +twice its natural size, and her eyes gleaming like round green globes. +But Brownie only said, "Ha, ha, ho!" and walked deliberately into +his hole.</p> + +<p>When Cook came downstairs and saw that the same thing had +happened again—that the supper was all eaten, and the table-cloth +blacker than ever with the extraordinary footmarks, she was greatly +puzzled. Who could have done it all? Not the cat, who came mewing +out of the coal-cellar the minute she unlocked the door. Possibly +a rat—but then would a rat have come within reach of Tiny?</p> + +<p>"It must have been Tiny herself, or her puppy," which just came +rolling out of its basket over Cook's feet. "You little wretch! You +and your mother are the greatest nuisance imaginable. I'll punish +you!"</p> + +<p>And, quite forgetting that Tiny had been safely tied up all night, +and that her poor little puppy was so fat and helpless it could scarcely +stand on its legs, to say nothing of jumping on chairs and tables,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +she gave them both such a thrashing that they ran howling together +out of the kitchen door, where the kind little kitchen-maid took +them up in her arms.</p> + +<p>"You ought to have beaten the Brownie, if you could catch him," +said she, in a whisper. "He will do it again and again, you'll see, +for he can't bear an untidy kitchen. You'd better do as poor old +Cook did, and clear the supper things away, and put the odds and +ends safe in the larder; also," she added, mysteriously, "if I were +you, I'd put a bowl of milk behind the coal-cellar door."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" answered the young Cook, and flounced away. +But afterward she thought better of it, and did as she was advised, +grumbling all the time, but doing it.</p> + +<p>Next morning the milk was gone! Perhaps Brownie had drunk +it up, anyhow nobody could say that he hadn't. As for the supper, +Cook having safely laid it on the shelves of the larder, nobody touched +it. And the table-cloth, which was wrapped up tidily and put in the +dresser drawer, came out as clean as ever, with not a single black +footmark upon it. No mischief being done, the cat and the dog +both escaped beating, and Brownie played no more tricks with +any body—till the next time.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i009.png" width="250" height="154" alt="Decoration" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'><table class="two" summary="two"> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<div class='chapter'>ADVENTURE THE SECOND</div> + +<div class='title'>BROWNIE AND THE CHERRY-TREE</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +</td> +</tr></table></div> + + + +<div class='cap'>THE "next time" was quick in +coming, which was not wonderful, +considering there was a Brownie in the house. Otherwise the +house was like most other houses, and the family like most other +families. The children also: they were sometimes good, sometimes +naughty, like other children; but, on the whole, they deserved to +have the pleasure of a Brownie to play with them, as they declared +he did—many and many a time.</div> + +<p>A favorite play-place was the orchard, where grew the biggest +cherry-tree you ever saw. They called it their "castle," because +it rose up ten feet from the ground in one thick stem, and then branched +out into a circle of boughs, with a flat place in the middle, where two +or three children could sit at once. There they often did sit, turn +by turn, or one at a time—sometimes with a book, reading; and the +biggest boy made a sort of rope-ladder by which they could climb up +and down—which they did all winter, and enjoyed their "castle" +very much.</p> + +<p>But one day in spring they found their ladder cut away! The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +Gardener had done it, saying it injured the tree, which was just +coming into blossom. Now this Gardener was a rather gruff man, +with a growling voice. He did not mean to be unkind, but he disliked +children; he said they bothered him. But when they complained +to their mother about the ladder, she agreed with Gardener +that the tree must not be injured, as it bore the biggest cherries in +all the neighborhood—so big that the old saying of "taking two +bites at a cherry," came really true.</p> + +<p>"Wait till the cherries are ripe," said she; and so the little people +waited, and watched it through its leafing and blossoming—such +sheets of blossom, white as snow!—till the fruit began to show, and +grew large and red on every bough.</p> + +<p>At last one morning the mother said, "Children, should you like +to help gather the cherries to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Hurrah!" they cried, "and not a day too soon; for we saw a +flock of starlings in the next field—and if we don't clear the tree, +they will."</p> + +<p>"Very well; clear it, then. Only mind and fill my basket quite +full, for preserving. What is over you may eat, if you like."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, thank you!" and the children were eager to be off; +but the mother stopped them till she could get the Gardener and +his ladder.</p> + +<p>"For it is he must climb the tree, not you; and you must do exactly +as he tells you; and he will stop with you all the time and see that +you don't come to harm."</p> + +<p>This was no slight cloud on the children's happiness, and they +begged hard to go alone.</p> + +<p>"Please, might we? We will be so good!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i011.jpg" width="500" height="259" alt="When the Gardener was steadying his ladder against the trunk of the cherry-tree" title="" /> +<span class="caption">When the Gardener was steadying his ladder against the trunk of the cherry-tree</span> +</div> + +<p>The mother shook her head. All the goodness in the world would +not help them if they tumbled off the tree, or ate themselves sick with +cherries. "You would not be safe, and I should be so unhappy!"</p> + +<p>To make mother "unhappy" was the worst rebuke possible to +these children; so they choked down their disappointment, and +followed the Gardener as he walked on ahead, carrying his ladder +on his shoulder. He looked very cross, and as if he did not like the +children's company at all.</p> + +<p>They were pretty good, on the whole, though they chattered +a good deal; but Gardener said not a word to them all the way to +the orchard. When they reached it, he just told them to "keep out +of his way and not worrit him," which they politely promised, saying +among themselves that they should not enjoy their cherry-gathering +at all. But children who make the best of things, and +try to be as good as they can, sometimes have fun unawares.</p> + +<p>When the Gardener was steadying his ladder against the trunk +of the cherry-tree, there was suddenly heard the barking of a dog,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +and a very fierce dog, too. First it seemed close beside them, then +in the flower-garden, then in the fowl-yard.</p> + +<p>Gardener dropped the ladder out of his hands. "It's that Boxer! +He has got loose again! He will be running after my chickens, +and dragging his broken chain all over my borders. And he is so +fierce, and so delighted to get free. He'll bite any body who ties +him up, except me."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't you better you go and see after him?"</p> + +<p>Gardener thought it was the eldest boy who spoke, and turned +round angrily; but the little fellow had never opened his lips.</p> + +<p>Here there was heard a still louder bark, and from a quite different +part of the garden.</p> + +<p>"There he is—I'm sure of it! jumping over my bedding-out +plants, and breaking my cucumber frames. Abominable beast!—just +let me catch him!" Off Gardener darted in a violent passion, +throwing the ladder down upon the grass, and forgetting all about +the cherries and the children.</p> + +<p>The instant he was gone, a shrill laugh, loud and merry, was heard +close by, and a little brown old man's face peeped from behind the +cherry-tree.</p> + +<p>"How d'ye do?—Boxer was me. Didn't I bark well? Now +I'm come to play with you."</p> + +<p>The children clapped their hands; for they knew they were going +to have some fun if Brownie was there—he was the best little playfellow +in the world. And then they had him all to themselves. +Nobody ever saw him except the children.</p> + +<p>"Come on!" cried he, in his shrill voice, half like an old man's, +half like a baby's. "Who'll begin to gather the cherries?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 414px;"> +<img src="images/i012.jpg" width="414" height="600" alt="A little brown old man's face peeped from behind the cherry-tree.—Page 20" title="" /> +<span class="caption">A little brown old man's face peeped from behind the cherry-tree.—Page 20</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>They all looked blank; for the tree was so high to where the +branches sprang, and besides, their mother had said they were not +to climb. And the ladder lay flat upon the grass—far too heavy +for little hands to move.</p> + +<p>"What! you big boys don't expect a poor little fellow like me to +lift the ladder all by myself? Try! I'll help you."</p> + +<p>Whether he helped or not, no sooner had they taken hold of the +ladder than it rose up, almost of its own accord, and fixed itself quite +safely against the tree.</p> + +<p>"But we must not climb—mother told us not," said the boys, +ruefully. "Mother said we were to stand at the bottom and pick +up the cherries."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Obey your mother. I'll just run up the tree myself."</p> + +<p>Before the words were out of his mouth Brownie darted up the +ladder like a monkey, and disappeared among the fruit-laden branches.</p> + +<p>The children looked dismayed for a minute, till they saw a merry +brown face peeping out from the green leaves at the very top of +the tree.</p> + +<p>"Biggest fruit always grows highest," cried the Brownie. "Stand +in a row, all you children. Little boys, hold out your caps: little +girls, make a bag of your pinafores. Open your mouths and shut +your eyes, and see what the queen will send you."</p> + +<p>They laughed and did as they were told; whereupon they were +drowned in a shower of cherries—cherries falling like hailstones, +hitting them on their heads, their cheeks, their noses—filling their +caps and pinafores, and then rolling and tumbling on to the grass, +till it was strewn thick as leaves in autumn with the rosy fruit.</p> + +<p>What a glorious scramble they had—these three little boys and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +three little girls! How they laughed and jumped and knocked +their heads together in picking up the cherries, yet never quarreled—for +there were such heaps, it would have been ridiculous to squabble +over them; and besides, whenever they began to quarrel, Brownie +always ran away. Now he was the merriest of the lot; ran up and +down the tree like a cat, helped to pick up the cherries, and was +first-rate at filling the large market-basket.</p> + +<p>"We were to eat as many as we liked, only we must first fill the +basket," conscientiously said the eldest girl; upon which they all set +to at once, and filled it to the brim.</p> + +<p>"Now we'll have a dinner-party," cried the Brownie; and squatted +down like a Turk, crossed his queer little legs, and sticking his +elbows upon his knees, in a way that nobody but a Brownie could manage. +"Sit in a ring! sit in a ring! and we'll see who can eat fastest."</p> + +<p>The children obeyed. How many cherries they devoured, and +how fast they did it, passes my capacity of telling. I only hope they +were not ill next day, and that all the cherry-stones they swallowed +by mistake did not disagree with them. But perhaps nothing does +disagree with one when one dines with a Brownie. They ate so +much, laughing in equal proportion, that they had quite forgotten +the Gardener—when, all of a sudden, they heard him clicking angrily +the orchard gate, and talking to himself as he walked through.</p> + +<p>"That nasty dog! It wasn't Boxer, after all. A nice joke! to +find him quietly asleep in his kennel after having hunted him, as I +thought, from one end of the garden to the other! Now for the +cherries and the children—bless us, where are the children? And +the cherries? Why, the tree is as bare as a blackthorn in February! +The starlings have been at it, after all. Oh dear! oh dear!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh dear! oh dear!" echoed a voice from behind the tree, followed +by shouts of mocking laughter. Not from the children—they sat +as demure as possible, all in a ring, with their hands before them, +and in the centre the huge basket of cherries, piled as full as it could +possibly hold. But the Brownie had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"You naughty brats, I'll have you punished!" cried the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Gradener'">Gardener</ins>, +furious at the laughter, for he never laughed himself. But as there +was nothing wrong; the cherries being gathered—a very large crop—and +the ladder found safe in its place—it was difficult to say what +had been the harm done and who had done it.</p> + +<p>So he went growling back to the house, carrying the cherries to +the mistress, who coaxed him into good temper again, as she sometimes +did; bidding also the children to behave well to him, since +he was an old man, and not really bad—only cross. As for the +little folks, she had not the slightest intention of punishing them; +and, as for Brownie, it was impossible to catch him. So nobody +was punished at all.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/i013.png" width="300" height="128" alt="Decoration" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'><table class="three" summary="three"> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<div class='chapter'>ADVENTURE THE THIRD</div> + +<div class='title'>BROWNIE IN THE FARMYARD</div><br /><br /><br /><br /> +</td> +</tr></table></div> + + +<div class='cap'>WHICH was a place where he +did not often go, for he +preferred being warm and snug in the house. But when he felt +himself ill-used, he would wander anywhere, in order to play tricks +upon those whom he thought had done him harm; for, being only a +Brownie, and not a man, he did not understand that the best way +to revenge yourself upon your enemies is either to let them alone or +to pay them back good for evil—it disappoints them so much, and +makes them so exceedingly ashamed of themselves.</div> + +<p>One day Brownie overheard the Gardener advising the Cook to +put sour milk into his bowl at night, instead of sweet.</p> + +<p>"He'd never find out the difference, no more than the pigs do. +Indeed, it's my belief that a pig, or dog, or something, empties the bowl, +and not a Brownie, at all. It's just clean waste—that's what I say."</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better hold your tongue, and mind your own business," +returned the Cook, who was of a sharp temper, and would +not stand being meddled with. She began to abuse the Gardener +soundly; but his wife, who was standing by, took his part, as she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +always did when any third party scolded him. So they all squabbled +together, till Brownie, hid under his coal, put his little hands over +his little ears.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, what a noise these mortals do make when they quarrel! +They quite deafen me. I must teach them better manners."</p> + +<p>But when the Cook slammed the door to, and left Gardener and +his wife alone, they too began to dispute between themselves.</p> + +<p>"You make such a fuss over your nasty pigs, and get all the scraps +for them," said the wife. "It's of much more importance that I +should have everything Cook can spare for my chickens. Never +were such fine chickens as my last brood!"</p> + +<p>"I thought they were ducklings."</p> + +<p>"How you catch me up, you rude old man! They are ducklings, +and beauties, too—even though they have never seen water. Where's +the pond you promised to make for me, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"Rubbish, woman! If my cows do without a pond, your ducklings +may. And why will you be so silly as to rear ducklings at all? +Fine fat chickens are a deal better. You'll find out your mistake +some day."</p> + +<p>"And so will you when that old Alderney runs dry. You'll wish +you had taken my advice, and fattened and sold her."</p> + +<p>"Alderney cows won't sell for fattening, and women's advice is +never worth twopence. Yours isn't worth even a half-penny. What +are you laughing at?"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't laughing," said the wife, angrily; and, in truth, it was +not she, but little Brownie, running under the barrow which the +Gardener was wheeling along, and very much amused that people +should be so silly as to squabble about nothing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was still early morning; for, whatever this old couple's faults +might be, laziness was not one of them. The wife rose with the +dawn to feed her poultry and collect her eggs; the husband also got +through as much work by breakfast-time as many an idle man +does by noon. But Brownie had been beforehand with them this +day.</p> + +<p>When all the fowls came running to be fed, the big Brahma hen +who had watched the ducklings was seen wandering forlornly about, +and clucking mournfully for her young brood—she could not find +them anywhere. Had she been able to speak, she might have told +how a large white Aylesbury duck had waddled into the farmyard, +and waddled out again, coaxing them after her, no doubt in search +of a pond. But missing they were, most certainly.</p> + +<p>"Cluck, cluck, cluck!" mourned the miserable hen-mother—and, +"Oh, my ducklings, my ducklings!" cried the Gardener's wife—"Who +can have carried off my beautiful ducklings?"</p> + +<p>"Rats, maybe," said the Gardener, cruelly, as he walked away. +And as he went he heard the squeak of a rat below his wheelbarrow. +But he could not catch it, any more than his wife could catch the +Aylesbury duck. Of course not. Both were—the Brownie!</p> + +<p>Just at this moment the six little people came running into the +farmyard. When they had been particularly good, they were sometimes +allowed to go with Gardener a-milking, each carrying his or +her own mug for a drink of milk, warm from the cow. They scampered +after him—a noisy tribe, begging to be taken down to the field, +and holding out their six mugs entreatingly.</p> + +<p>"What! six cupfuls of milk, when I haven't a drop to spare, and +Cook is always wanting more? Ridiculous nonsense! Get along<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +with you; you may come to the field—I can't hinder that—but you'll +get no milk to-day. Take your mugs back again to the kitchen."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i015.jpg" width="500" height="255" alt="A noisy tribe, holding out their six mugs entreatingly." title="" /> +<span class="caption">A noisy tribe, holding out their six mugs entreatingly.</span> +</div> + +<p>The poor little folks made the best of a bad business, and obeyed; +then followed Gardener down to the field, rather dolefully. But +it was such a beautiful morning that they soon recovered their spirits. +The grass <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'shown'">shone</ins> with dew, like a sheet of diamonds, the clover +smelled so sweet, and two skylarks were singing at one another +high up in the sky. Several rabbits darted past, to their great +amusement, especially one very large rabbit—brown, not gray—which +dodged them in and out, and once nearly threw Gardener +down, pail and all, by running across his feet; which set them all +laughing, till they came where Dolly, the cow, lay chewing the cud +under a large oak-tree.</p> + +<p>It was great fun to stir her up, as usual, and lie down, one after +the other, in the place where she had lain all night long, making +the grass flat, and warm, and perfumy with her sweet breath. She +let them do it, and then stood meekly by; for Dolly was the gentlest +cow in the world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>But this morning something strange seemed to possess her. She +altogether refused to be milked—kicked, plunged, tossed over the +pail, which was luckily empty.</p> + +<p>"Bless the cow! what's wrong with her? It's surely you children's +fault. Stand off, the whole lot of you. Soh, Dolly! good Dolly!"</p> + +<p>But Dolly was any thing but good. She stood switching her tail, +and looking as savage as so mild an animal possibly could look.</p> + +<p>"It's all your doing, you naughty children! You have been +playing her some trick, I know," cried the Gardener, in great wrath.</p> + +<p>They assured him they had done nothing, and indeed, they looked +as quiet as mice and as innocent as lambs. At length the biggest +boy pointed out a large wasp which had settled in Dolly's ear.</p> + +<p>"That accounts for everything," said the Gardener.</p> + +<p>But it did not mend everything; for when he tried to drive it away +it kept coming back and back again, and buzzing round his own +head and the cow's with a voice that the children thought was less +like a buzz of a wasp than the sound of a person laughing. At +length it frightened Dolly to such an extent that, with one wild +bound she darted right away, and galloped off to the farther end of +the field.</p> + +<p>"I'll get a rope and tie her legs together," cried the Gardener, +fiercely. "She shall repent giving me all this trouble—that she +shall!"</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed somebody. The Gardener thought it +was the children, and gave one of them an angry cuff as he walked +away. But they knew it was somebody else, and were not at all +surprised when, the minute his back was turned, Dolly came walking +quietly back, led by a little wee brown man who scarcely reached up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +to her knees. Yet she let him guide her, which he did as gently +as possible, though the string he held her by was no thicker than a +spider web, floating from one of her horns.</p> + +<p>"Soh, Dolly! good Dolly!" cried Brownie, mimicking the Gardener's +voice. "Now we'll see what we can do. I want my breakfast +badly—don't you, little folks?"</p> + +<p>Of course they did, for the morning air made them very hungry.</p> + +<p>"Very well—wait a bit, though. Old people should be served +first, you know. Besides, I want to go to bed."</p> + +<p>"Go to bed in the daylight!" The children all laughed, and then +looked quite shy and sorry, lest they might have seemed rude to +the little Brownie. But he—he liked fun; and never took offence +when none was meant.</p> + +<p>He placed himself on the milking-stool, which was so high that +his little legs were dangling half-way down, and milked and milked—Dolly +standing as still as possible—till he had filled the whole pail. +Most astonishing cow! she gave as much as two cows; and such +delicious milk as it was—all frothing and yellow—richer than even +Dolly's milk had ever been before. The children's mouths watered +for it, but not a word said they—even when, instead of giving it to +them, Brownie put his own mouth to the pail, and drank and drank, +till it seemed as if he were never going to stop. But it was decidedly +a relief to them when he popped his head up again, and lo! the pail +was as full as ever!</p> + +<p>"Now, little ones, now's your turn. Where are your mugs?"</p> + +<p>All answered mournfully, "We've got none. Gardener made us +take them back again."</p> + +<p>"Never mind—all right. Gather me half a dozen of the biggest +buttercups you can find."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What nonsense!" thought the children; but they did it. Brownie +laid the flowers in a row upon the eldest girl's lap—blew upon them +one by one, and each turned into the most beautiful golden cup that +ever was seen!</p> + +<p>"Now, then, every one take his own mug, and I'll fill it."</p> + +<p>He milked away—each child got a drink, and then the cups were +filled again. And all the while Dolly stood as quiet as possible—looking +benignly round, as if she would be happy to supply milk to +the whole parish, if the Brownie desired it.</p> + +<p>"Soh, Dolly! Thank you, Dolly!" said he, again, mimicking the +Gardener's voice, half growling, half coaxing. And while he spoke, +the real voice was heard behind the hedge. There was a sound +as of a great wasp flying away, which made Dolly prick up her ears, +and look as <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'it'">if</ins> the old savageness was coming back upon her. The +children snatched up their mugs, but there was no need, they had all +turned into buttercups again.</p> + +<p>Gardener jumped over the stile, as cross as two sticks, with an old +rope in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a bother I've had! Breakfast ready, and no milk yet—and +such a row as they are making over those lost ducklings. +Stand back, you children, and don't hinder me a minute. No use +begging—not a drop of milk shall you get. Hillo, Dolly? Quiet +old girl!"</p> + +<p>Quiet enough she was this time—but you might as well have milked +a plaster cow in a London milking-shop. Not one ringing drop +resounded against the empty pail; for, when they peeped in, the +children saw, to their amazement, that it was empty.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/i016.jpg" width="420" height="600" alt="Each child got a drink, and then the cups were filled again.—Page 32" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Each child got a drink, and then the cups were filled again.—Page 32</span> +</div> + +<p>"The creature's bewitched!" cried the Gardener, in a great fury.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +"Or else somebody has milked her dry already. Have you done it? +or you?" he asked each of the children.</p> + +<p>They might have said No—which was the literal truth—but then +it would not have been the whole truth, for they knew quite well that +Dolly had been milked, and also who had done it. And their mother +had always taught them that to make a person believe a lie is nearly +as bad as telling him one. Yet still they did not like to betray the +kind little Brownie. Greatly puzzled, they hung their heads and +said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Look in your pail again," cried a voice from the other side of +Dolly. And there at the bottom was just the usual quantity of milk—no +more and no less.</p> + +<p>The Gardener was very much astonished. "It must be the +Brownie!" muttered he, in a frightened tone; and, taking off his hat, +"Thank you, sir," said he to Mr. Nobody—at which the children +all burst out laughing. But they kept their own counsel, and he +was afraid to ask them any more questions.</p> + +<p>By-and-by his fright wore off a little. "I only hope the milk is +good milk, and will poison nobody," said he, sulkily. "However, +that's not my affair. You children had better tell your mother all +about it. I left her in the farmyard in a pretty <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'sate'">state</ins> of mind about +her ducklings."</p> + +<p>Perhaps Brownie heard this, and was sorry, for he liked the children's +mother, who had always been kind to him. Besides, he +never did any body harm who did not deserve it; and though, being +a Brownie, he could hardly be said to have a conscience, he had +something which stood in the place of one—a liking to see people +happy rather than miserable.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>So, instead of going to bed under his big coal for the day, when, +after breakfast, the children and their mother came out to look at a +new brood of chickens, he crept after them and hid behind the hencoop +where the old mother-hen was put, with her young ones round +her.</p> + +<p>There had been great difficulty in getting her in there, for she was +a hen who hatched her brood on independent principles. Instead +of sitting upon the nice nest that the Gardener made for her, she +had twice gone into a little wood close by and made a nest for herself, +which nobody could ever find; and where she hatched in secret, +coming every second day to be fed, and then vanishing again, till at +last she re-appeared in triumph, with her chickens running after her. +The first brood there had been twelve, but of this there were fourteen—all +from her own eggs, of course, and she was uncommonly proud +of them. So was the Gardener, so was the mistress—who <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'like'">liked</ins> all +young things. Such a picture as they were! fourteen soft, yellow, +fluffy things, running about after their mother. It had been a most +troublesome business to catch—first her, and then them, to put them +under the coop. The old hen resisted, and pecked furiously at +Gardener's legs, and the chickens ran about in frantic terror, chirping +wildly in answer to her clucking.</p> + +<p>At last, however, the little family was safe in shelter, and the +chickens counted over, to see that none had been lost in the scuffle. +How funny they were! looking so innocent and yet so wise, as chickens +do—peering out at the world from under their mother's wing, or +hopping over her back, or snuggled all together under her breast, +so that nothing was seen of them but a mass of yellow legs, like a +great centiped.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How happy the old hen is," said the children's mother, looking +on, and then looking compassionately at that other forlorn old hen, +who had hatched the ducklings, and kept wandering about the farmyard, +clucking miserably, "Those poor ducklings, what can have +become of them? If rats had killed them, we should have found +feathers or something; and weasels would have sucked their brains +and left them. They must have been stolen, or wandered away, +and died of cold and hunger—my poor ducklings!"</p> + +<p>The mistress sighed, for she could not bear any living thing to +suffer. And the children nearly cried at the thought of what might +be happening to their pretty ducklings. That very minute a little +wee brown face peered through a hole in the hencoop, making the +old mother-hen fly furiously at it—as she did at the slightest shadow +of an enemy to her little ones. However, no harm happened—only +a guinea-fowl suddenly ran across the farmyard, screaming in its +usual harsh voice. But it was not the usual sort of guinea-fowl, +being larger and handsomer than any of theirs.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a beauty of a creature! how did it ever come into our +farmyard," cried the delighted children; and started off after it, to +catch it if possible.</p> + +<p>But they ran, and they ran—through the gate and out into the +lane; and the guinea-fowl still ran on before them, until, turning +round a corner, they lost sight of it, and immediately saw something +else, equally curious. Sitting on the top of a big thistle—so big +that he must have had to climb it just like a tree—was the Brownie. +His legs were crossed, and his arms too, his little brown cap was stuck +knowingly on one side, and he was laughing heartily.</p> + +<p>"How do you do? Here I am again. I thought I wouldn't go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +to bed after all. Shall I help you to find the ducklings? Very +well! come along."</p> + +<p>They crossed the field, Brownie running beside them, and as fast +as they could, though he looked such an old man; and sometimes +turning over on legs and arms like a Catherine wheel—which they +tried to imitate, but generally failed, and only bruised their fingers +and noses.</p> + +<p>He lured them on and on till they came to the wood, and to a green +path in it, which well as they knew the neighborhood, none of the +children had ever seen before. It led to a most beautiful pond, as +clear as crystal and as blue as the sky. Large trees grew round it, +dipping their branches in the water, as if they were looking at themselves +in a glass. And all about their roots were quantities of primroses—the +biggest primroses the little girls had ever seen. Down +they dropped on their fat knees, squashing more primroses than +they gathered, though they tried to gather them all; and the smallest +child even began to cry because her hands were so full that the +flowers dropped through her fingers. But the boys, older and more +practical, rather despised primroses.</p> + +<p>"I thought we had come to look for ducklings," said the eldest. +"Mother is fretting dreadfully about her ducklings. Where can +they be?"</p> + +<p>"Shut your eyes, and you'll see," said the Brownie, at which they +all laughed, but did it; and when they opened their eyes again, what +should they behold but a whole fleet of ducklings sailing out from +the roots of an old willow-tree, one after the other, looking as fat +and content as possible, and swimming as naturally as if they had +lived on a pond—and this particularly pond, all their days.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Count them," said the Brownie, "the whole eight—quite correct. +And then try and catch them—if you can."</p> + +<p>Easier said than done. The boys set to work with great satisfaction—boys +do so enjoy hunting something. They coaxed them—they +shouted at them—they threw little sticks at them; but as soon +as they wanted them to go one way the fleet of ducklings immediately +turned round and sailed another way, doing it so deliberately and +majestically, that the children could not help laughing. As for little +Brownie, he sat on a branch of the willow-tree, with his legs dangling +down to the surface of the pond, kicking at the water-spiders, and +grinning with all his might. At length, quite tired out, in spite of +their fun, the children begged for his help, and he took compassion +on them.</p> + +<p>"Turn round three times and see what you can find," shouted he.</p> + +<p>Immediately each little boy found in his arms, and each little girl +in her pinafore, a fine fat duckling. And there being eight of them, +the two elder children had each a couple. They were rather cold +and damp, and slightly uncomfortable to cuddle, ducks not being +used to cuddling. Poor things! they struggled hard to get away. +But the children hugged them tight, and ran as fast as their legs could +carry them through the wood, forgetting, in their joy, even to say +"Thank you" to the little Brownie.</p> + +<p>When they reached their mother she was as glad as they, for she +never thought to see her ducklings again; and to have them back +alive and uninjured, and watch them running to the old hen, who +received them with an ecstasy of delight, was so exciting, that nobody +thought of asking a single question as to where they had been found.</p> + +<p>When the mother did ask, the children told her about Brownie's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +taking them to the beautiful pond—and what a wonderful pond it +was; how green the trees were round it; and how large the primroses +grew. They never tired of talking about it and seeking for it. But +the odd thing was that, seek as they might, they never could find it +again. Many a day did the little people roam about one by one, or +all together, round the wood, often getting themselves sadly +draggled with mud and torn with brambles—but the beautiful pond +they never found again.</p> + +<p>Nor did the ducklings, I suppose; for they wandered no more from +the farmyard, to the old mother-hen's great content. They grew +up into fat and respectable ducks—five white ones and three gray +ones—waddling about, very content, though they never saw water, +except the tank which was placed for them to paddle in. They +lived a lazy, peaceful, pleasant life for a long time, and were at last +killed and eaten with green peas, one after the other, to the family's +great satisfaction, if not to their own.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 155px;"> +<img src="images/i017.png" width="155" height="150" alt="tree" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> +<div class='center'><table class="four" summary="four"> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<div class='chapter'>ADVENTURE THE FOURTH</div> + +<div class='title'> BROWNIE'S RIDE</div><br /><br /><br /><br /> +</td> +</tr></table></div> + + + + +<div class='cap'>FOR the little Brownie, though not +given to horsemanship, did once +take a ride, and a very remarkable one it was. Shall I tell you all +about it?</div> + +<p>The six little children got a present of something they had longed +for all their lives—a pony. Not a rocking-horse, but a real live pony—a +Shetland pony, too, which had traveled all the way from the +Shetland Isles to Devonshire—where every body wondered at it, +for such a creature had not been seen in the neighborhood for years +and years. She was no bigger than a donkey, and her coat, instead +of being smooth like a horse's, was shaggy like a young bear's. She +had a long tail, which had never been cut, and such a deal of hair +in her mane and over her eyes that it gave her quite a fierce countenance. +In fact, among the mild and tame Devonshire beasts, the +little Shetland pony looked almost like a wild animal. But in reality +she was the gentlest creature in the world. Before she had been +many days with them, she began to know the children quite well; +followed them about, ate corn out of the bowl they held out to her;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +nay, one day, when the eldest little girl offered her bread-and-butter, +she stooped her head and took it from the child's hand, just like a +young lady. Indeed, Jess—that was her name—was altogether so +lady-like in her behavior, that more than once Cook allowed her to +walk in at the back-door, when she stood politely warming her nose +at the kitchen-fire for a minute or two, then turned round and as +politely walked out again. But she never did any mischief; and was +so quiet and gentle a creature that she bade fair soon to become as +great a pet in the household as the dog, the cat, the kittens, the +puppies, the fowls, the ducks, the cow, the pig, and all the other +members of the family.</p> + +<p>The only one who disliked her, and grumbled at her, was the +Gardener. This was odd; because, though cross to children, the +old man was kind to dumb beasts. Even his pig knew his voice and +grunted, and held out his nose to be scratched; and he always gave +each successive pig a name, Jack or Dick, and called them by it, +and was quite affectionate to them, one after the other, until the +very day that they were killed. But they were English pigs—and +the pony was Scotch—and the Devonshire Gardener hated every +thing Scotch, he said; besides, he was not used to groom's work, +and the pony required such a deal of grooming on account of her +long hair. More than once Gardener threatened to clip it short, +and turn her into a regular English pony, but the children were in +such distress and mother forbade any such spoiling of Jessie's personal +appearance.</p> + +<p>At length, to keep things smooth, and to avoid the rough words +and even blows which poor Jess sometimes got, they sought in the +village for a boy to look after her, and found a great rough, shock-headed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +lad named Bill, who, for a few shillings a week, consented +to come up every morning and learn the beginning of a groom's +business; hoping to end, as his mother said he should, in sitting, like +the squire's fat coachman, as broad as he was long, on the top of +the hammer-cloth of a grand carriage, and do nothing all day but +drive a pair of horses as stout as himself a few miles along the road +and back again.</p> + +<p>Bill would have liked this very much, he thought, if he could have +been a coachman all at once, for if there was one thing he disliked, +it was work. He much preferred to lie in the sun all day and do +nothing; and he only agreed to come and take care of Jess because +she was such a very little pony, that looking after her seemed next +door to doing nothing. But when he tried it, he found his mistake. +True, Jess was a very gentle beast, so quiet that the old mother-hen +with fourteen chicks used, instead of roosting with the rest of the +fowls, to come regularly into the portion of the cow-shed which was +partitioned off for a stable, and settle under a corner of Jess's manger +for the night; and in the morning the chicks would be seen running +about fearlessly among her feet and under her very nose.</p> + +<p>But, for all that, she required a little management, for she did not +like her long hair to be roughly handled; it took a long time to clean +her; and, though she did not scream out like some silly little children +when her hair was combed, I am afraid she sometimes kicked and +bounced about, giving Bill a deal of trouble—all the more trouble, +the more impatient Bill was.</p> + +<p>And then he had to keep within call, for the children wanted their +pony at all hours. She was their own especial property, and they +insisted upon learning to ride—even before they got a saddle. Hard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +work it was to stick on Jess's bare back, but by degrees the boys did +it, turn and turn about, and even gave their sisters a turn too—a very +little one—just once round the field and back again, which was quite +enough, they considered, for girls. But they were very kind to +their little sisters, held them on so that they could not fall, and led +Jess carefully and quietly: and altogether behaved as elder brothers +should.</p> + +<p>Nor did they squabble very much among themselves, though sometimes +it was rather difficult to keep their turns all fair, and remember +accurately which was which. But they did their best, being, on the +whole, extremely good children. And they were so happy to have +their pony, that they would have been ashamed to quarrel over +her.</p> + +<p>Also, one very curious thing kept them on their good behavior. +Whenever they did begin to misconduct themselves—to want to ride +out of their turns, or to domineer over one another, or the boys, +joining together, tried to domineer over the girls, as I grieve to say +boys not seldom do—they used to hear in the air, right over their +heads, the crack of an unseen whip. It was none of theirs, for they +had not got a whip; that was a felicity which their father had promised +when they could all ride like a young gentleman and ladies; but there +was no mistaking the sound—indeed, it always startled Jess so that +she set off galloping, and could not be caught again for many minutes.</p> + +<p>This happened several times, until one of them said, "Perhaps +it's the Brownie." Whether it was or not, it made them behave better +for a good while; till one unfortunate day the two eldest began contending +which should ride foremost and which hindmost on Jess's +back, when "Crick—crack!" went the whip in the air, frightening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +the pony so much that she kicked up her heels, tossed both the boys +over her head, and scampered off, followed by a loud "Ha, ha, ha!"</p> + +<p>It certainly did not come from the two boys, who had fallen—quite +safely, but rather unpleasantly—into a large nettle-bed; whence +they crawled out, rubbing their arms and legs, and looking too much +ashamed to complain. But they were rather frightened and a little +cross, for Jess took a skittish fit, and refused to be caught and mounted +again, till the bell rang for school—when she grew as meek as possible. +Too late—for the children were obliged to run indoors, and got no +more rides for the whole day.</p> + +<p>Jess was from this incident supposed to be on the same friendly +terms with Brownie as were the rest of the household. Indeed, when +she came, the children had taken care to lead her up to the coal-cellar +door and introduce her properly—for they knew Brownie was very +jealous of strangers, and often played them tricks. But after that +piece of civility he would be sure, they thought, to take her under +his protection. And sometimes, when the little Shetlander was +restless and pricked up her ears, looking preternaturally wise under +those shaggy brows of hers, the children used to say to one another, +"Perhaps she sees the Brownie."</p> + +<p>Whether she did or not, Jess sometimes seemed to see a good deal +that others did not see, and was apparently a favorite with the Brownie, +for she grew and thrived so much that she soon became the pride +and delight of the children and of the whole family. You would +hardly have known her for the rough, shaggy, half-starved little +beast that had arrived a few weeks before. Her coat was so silky, +her limbs so graceful, and her head so full of intelligence, that every +body admired her. Then even Gardener began to admire her too.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think I'll get upon her back; it will save me walking down to +the village," said he, one day. And she actually carried him—though, +as his feet nearly touched the ground, it looked as if the man +were carrying the pony, and not the pony the man. And the children +laughed so immoderately, that he never tried it afterward.</p> + +<p>Nor Bill neither, though he had once thought he should like a ride, +and got astride on Jess; but she quickly ducked her head down, and +he tumbled over it. Evidently she had her own tastes as to her +riders, and much preferred little people to big ones.</p> + +<p>Pretty Jess! when cantering round the paddock with the young folk +she really was quite a picture. And when at last she got a saddle—a +new, beautiful saddle, with a pommel to take off and on, so as to +suit both boys and girls—how proud they all were, Jess included! +That day they were allowed to take her into the market-town—Gardener +leading her, as Bill could not be trusted—and every body, +even the blacksmith, who hoped by-and-by to have the pleasure of +shoeing her, said, what a beautiful pony she was!</p> + +<p>After this, Gardener treated Jess a great deal better, and showed +Bill how to groom her, and kept him close at it too, which Bill did +not like at all. He was a very lazy lad, and whenever he could shirk +work he did it; and many a time when the children wanted Jess, either +there was nobody to saddle her, or she had not been properly groomed, +or Bill was away at his dinner, and they had to wait till he came back +and could put her in order to be taken out for a ride like a genteel +animal—which I am afraid neither pony nor children enjoyed half +so much as the old ways before Bill came.</p> + +<p>Still, they were gradually becoming excellent little horsemen and +horsewomen—even the youngest, only four years old, whom all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +rest were very tender over, and who was often held on Jess's back +and given a ride out of her turn because she was a good little girl, +and never cried for it. And seldomer and seldomer was heard the +mysterious sound of the whip in the air, which warned them of +quarreling—Brownie hated quarreling.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i019.jpg" width="500" height="254" alt="Jess quickly ducked her head down and Bill tumbled over it." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Jess quickly ducked her head down and Bill tumbled over it.</span> +</div> + +<p>In fact, their only trouble was Bill, who never came to his work +in time, and never did things when wanted, and was ill-natured, lazy, +and cross to the children, so that they disliked him very much.</p> + +<p>"I wish the Brownie would punish you," said one of the boys; +"you'd behave better then."</p> + +<p>"The Brownie!" cried Bill, contemptuously; "if I caught him, +I'd kick him up in the air like this!"</p> + +<p>And he kicked up his cap—his only cap, it was—which, strange +to relate, flew right up, ever so high, and lodged at the very top of a +tree which overhung the stable, where it dangled for weeks and weeks, +during which time poor Bill had to go bareheaded.</p> + +<p>He was very much vexed, and revenged himself by vexing the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +children in all sorts of ways. They would have told their mother, +and asked her to send Bill away, only she had a great many anxieties +just then, for their old grandmother was very ill, and they did not +like to make a fuss about any thing that would trouble her.</p> + +<p>So Bill staid on, and nobody found out what a bad, ill-natured, +lazy boy he was.</p> + +<p>But one day the mother was sent for suddenly, not knowing when +she should be able to come home again. She was very sad, and so +were the children, for they loved their grandmother—and as the +carriage drove off they all stood crying round the front-door for ever +so long.</p> + +<p>The servants even cried too—all but Bill.</p> + +<p>"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," said he. "What a +jolly time I shall have! I'll do nothing all day long. Those troublesome +children sha'n't have Jess to ride; I'll keep her in the stable, +and then she won't get dirty, and I shall have no trouble in cleaning +her. Hurrah! what fun!"</p> + +<p>He put his hands in his pockets, and sat whistling the best part of +the afternoon.</p> + +<p>The children had been so unhappy, that for that day they quite +forgot Jess; but next morning, after lessons were over, they came +begging for a ride.</p> + +<p>"You can't get one. The stable-door's locked and I've lost the +key." (He had it in his pocket all the time.)</p> + +<p>"How is poor Jess to get her dinner?" cried a thoughtful little +girl. "Oh, how hungry she will be!"</p> + +<p>And the child was quite in distress, as were the two other girls. +But the boys were more angry than sorry.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was very stupid of you, Bill, to lose the key. Look about and +find it, or else break open the door."</p> + +<p>"I won't," said Bill; "I dare say the key will turn up before night, +and if it doesn't, who cares? You get riding enough and too much. +I'll not bother myself about it, or Jess either."</p> + +<p>And Bill sauntered away. He was a big fellow, and the little lads +were rather afraid of him. But as he walked, he could not keep +his hand out of his trowsers-pocket, where the key felt growing heavier +and heavier, till he expected it every minute to tumble through and +come out at his boots—convicting him before all the children of having +told a lie.</p> + +<p>Nobody was in the habit of telling lies to them, so they never suspected +him, but went innocently searching about for the key—Bill +all the while clutching it fast. But every time he touched it, he felt +his fingers pinched, as <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'it'">if</ins> there was a cockroach in his pocket—or +little lobster—or something, anyhow, that had claws. At last, fairly +frightened, he made an excuse to go into the cow-shed, took the key +out of his pocket and looked at it, and finally hid it in a corner of the +manger, among the hay.</p> + +<p>As he did so, he heard a most extraordinary laugh, which was +certainly not from Dolly the cow, and, as he went out of the shed, +he felt the same sort of pinch at his ankles, which made him so angry +that he kept striking with his whip in all directions, but hit nobody +for nobody was there.</p> + +<p>But Jess—who, as soon as she heard the children's voices, set +up a most melancholy whinnying behind the locked stable-door—began +to neigh energetically. And Boxer barked, and the hens +cackled, and the guinea-fowls cried "Come back, come back!" in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +their usual insane fashion—indeed, the whole farmyard seemed in +such an excited state, that the children got frightened lest Gardener +should scold them, and ran away, leaving Bill master of the field.</p> + +<p>What an idle day he had! How he sat on the wall with his hands +in his pockets, and lounged upon the fence, and sauntered around +the garden! At length, absolutely tired of doing nothing, he went +and talked with the Gardener's wife while she was hanging out her +clothes. Gardener had gone down to the lower field, with all the +little folks after him, so that he knew nothing of Bill's idling, or it +might have come to an end.</p> + +<p>By-and-by Bill thought it was time to go home to his supper. +"But first I'll give Jess her corn," said he, "double quantity, and +then I need not come back to give her her breakfast so early in the +morning. Soh! you greedy beast! I'll be at you presently, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'f'">if</ins> you +don't stop that noise."</p> + +<p>For Jess, at sound of his footsteps, was heard to whinny in the +most imploring manner, enough to have melted a heart of stone.</p> + +<p>"The key—where on earth did I put the key?" cried Bill, whose +constant habit it was to lay things out of his hand and then forget +where he had put them, causing himself endless loss of time in +searching for them—as now. At last he suddenly remembered the +corner of the cow's manger, where he felt sure he had left it. But +the key was not there.</p> + +<p>"You can't have eaten it, you silly old cow," said he, striking +Dolly on the nose as she rubbed herself against him—she was an +affectionate beast. "Nor you, you stupid old hen!" kicking the +mother of the brood, who, with her fourteen chicks, being shut out +of their usual roosting-place—Jess's stable—kept pecking about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +under Dolly's legs. "It can't have gone without hands—of +course it can't." But most certainly the key was gone.</p> + +<p>What in the world should Bill do? Jess kept on making a pitiful +complaining. No wonder, as she had not tasted food since morning. +It would have made any kind-hearted person quite sad to hear her, +thinking how exceedingly hungry the poor pony must be.</p> + +<p>Little did Bill care for that, or for anything, except that he should +be sure to get into trouble as soon as he was found out. When he +heard Gardener coming into the farmyard, with the children after +him, Bill bolted over the wall like a flash of lightning, and ran away +home, leaving poor Jess to her fate.</p> + +<p>All the way he seemed to hear at his heels a little dog yelping, and +then a swarm of gnats buzzing round his head, and altogether was +so perplexed and bewildered, that when he got into his mother's +cottage he escaped into bed, and pulled the blanket over his ears +to shut out the noise of the dog and the gnats, which at last turned into +a sound like somebody laughing. It was not his mother, she didn't +often laugh, poor soul!—Bill bothered her quite too much for that, +and he knew it. Dreadfully frightened, he hid his head under the +bedclothes, determined to go to sleep and think about nothing till +next day.</p> + +<p>Meantime Gardener returned, with all the little people trooping +after him. He had been rather kinder to them than usual this day, +because he knew their mother had gone away in trouble, and now +he let them help him to roll the gravel, and fetch up Dolly to be +milked, and watch him milk her in the cow-shed—where, it being +nearly winter, she always spent the night now. They were so well +amused that they forgot all about their disappointment as to the ride,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +and Jess did not remind them of it by her whinnying. For as soon +as Bill was gone she grew silent.</p> + +<p>At last one little girl, the one who had cried over Jess's being +left hungry, remembered the poor pony, and, peeping through a crevice +in the cow-shed, saw her stand contentedly munching at a large bowlful +of corn.</p> + +<p>"So Bill did find the key. I'm very glad," thought the kind +little maiden, and to make sure looked again, when—what do you +think she beheld squatting on the manger? Something brown—either +a large brown rat, or a small brown man. But she held her +tongue, since, being a very little girl, people sometimes laughed at +her for the strange things she saw. She was quite certain she did +see them, for all that.</p> + +<p>So she and the rest of the children went indoors and to bed. When +they were fast asleep, something happened. Something so curious, +that the youngest boy, who, thinking he heard Jess neighing, got up +to look out, was afraid to tell, lest he too should be laughed at, and +went back to bed immediately.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the night, a little old brown man carrying a lantern, +or at least having a light in his hand that looked like a lantern—went +and unlocked Jess's stable, and patted her pretty head. At first she +started, but soon she grew quiet and pleased, and let him do what +he chose with her. He began rubbing her down, making the same +funny hissing with his mouth that Bill did, and all grooms do—I never +could find out why. But Jess evidently liked it, and stood as good +as possible.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 414px;"> +<img src="images/i020.jpg" width="414" height="600" alt="Up the bank she scrambled, her long hair dripping.—Page 55" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Up the bank she scrambled, her long hair dripping.—Page 55</span> +</div> + +<p>"Isn't it nice to be clean?" said the wee man, talking to her as if +she were a human being, or a Brownie. "And I dare say your poor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +little legs ache with standing so long. Shall we have a run together? +the moon shines bright in the clear, cold night. Dear me! I'm +talking poetry."</p> + +<p>But Brownies are not poetical fairies, quite commonplace, and up +to all sorts of work. So, while he talked, he was saddling and bridling +Jess, she not objecting in the least. Finally, he jumped on her +back.</p> + +<p>"'Off, said the stranger—off, off, and away!'" sang Brownie +mimicking a song of the Cook's. People in that house often heard +their songs repeated in the oddest way, from room to room, everybody +fancying it was somebody else that did it. But it was only +the Brownie. "Now, 'A southerly wind and a cloudy sky proclaim +a hunting morning!'"</p> + +<p>Or night—for it was the middle of the night, though bright as +day—and Jess galloped and the Brownie sat on her back as merrily +as if they had gone hunting together all their days.</p> + +<p>Such a steeple-chase it was! They cleared the farmyard at a +single bound, and went flying down the road, and across the ploughed +field, and into the wood. Then out into the open country, and by-and-by +into a dark, muddy lane—and oh! how muddy Devonshire +lanes can be sometimes!</p> + +<p>"Let's go into the water to wash ourselves," said Brownie, and +coaxed Jess into a deep stream, which she swam as bravely as possible—she +had not had such a frolic since she left her native Shetland +Isles. Up the bank she scrambled, her long hair dripping as if she +had been a water-dog instead of a pony. Brownie, too, shook himself +like a rat or a beaver, throwing a shower round him in all directions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never mind; at it again, my lass!" and he urged Jess into the +water once more. Out she came, wetter and brisker than ever, +and went back home again through the lane, and the wood, and the +ploughed field, galloping like the wind, and tossing back her ears +and mane and tail, perfectly frantic with enjoyment.</p> + +<p>But when she reached her stable, the plight she was in would have +driven any respectable groom frantic too. Her sides were white with +foam, and the mud was sticking all over her like a plaster. As for +her beautiful long hair, it was all caked together in a tangle, as if +all the combs in the world would never make it smooth again. Her +mane especially was plaited into knots, which people in Devonshire +call elf-locks, and say, when they find them on their horses, that it +is because the fairies have been riding them.</p> + +<p>Certainly, poor Jess had been pretty well ridden that night. When +just as the dawn began to break, Gardener got up and looked into +the farmyard, his sharp eye caught sight of the stable-door wide open.</p> + +<p>"Well done, Bill," shouted he, "up early at last. One hour +before breakfast is worth three after."</p> + +<p>But no Bill was there; only Jess, trembling and shaking, all in a +foam, and muddy from head to foot, but looking perfectly cheerful +in her mind. And out from under her fore legs ran a small creature +which Gardener mistook for Tiny, only Tiny was gray, and this +dog was brown, of course!</p> + +<p>I should not like to tell you all that was said to Bill when, an hour +after breakfast-time, he came skulking up to the farm. In fact, words +failing, Gardener took a good stick and laid it about Bill's shoulders, +saying he would either do this, or tell the mistress of him, and how +he had left the stable-door open all night, and some bad fellow had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +stolen Jess, and galloped her all across the country, till, if she hadn't +been the cleverest pony in the world, she never could have got back +again.</p> + +<p>Bill durst not contradict this explanation of the story, especially +as the key was found hanging up in its proper place by the kitchen +door. And when he went to fetch it, he heard the most extraordinary +sound in the coal-cellar close by—like somebody snoring +or laughing. Bill took to his heels, and did not come back for a +whole hour.</p> + +<p>But when he did come back, he made himself as busy as possible. +He cleaned Jess, which was half a day's work at least. Then he +took the little people a ride, and afterward put his stable in the most +beautiful order, and <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'altogetherwas'">altogether was</ins> such a changed Bill, that Gardener +told him he must have left himself at home and brought back somebody +else: whether or not, the boy certainly improved, so that there +was less occasion to find fault with him afterward.</p> + +<p>Jess lived to be quite an old pony, and carried a great many people—little +people always, for she herself never grew any bigger. But +I don't think she ever carried a Brownie again.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/i021.png" width="200" height="76" alt="Decoration" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> +<div class='center'><table class="five" summary="five"> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<div class='chapter'>ADVENTURE THE FIFTH</div> + +<div class='title'> BROWNIE ON THE ICE</div><br /><br /><br /><br /> +</td> +</tr></table></div> + + + + +<div class='cap'>WINTER was a grand time with the six little children +especially when they had frost and snow. This happened +seldom enough for it to be the greatest possible treat when it did +happen; and it never lasted very long, for the winters are warm in +Devonshire.</div> + +<p>There was a little lake three fields off, which made the most splendid +sliding-place imaginable. No skaters went near it—it was not +large enough; and besides, there was nobody to skate, the neighborhood +being lonely. The lake itself looked the loneliest place imaginable. +It was not very deep—not deep enough to drown a man—but +it had a gravelly bottom, and was always very clear. Also, the +trees round it grew so thick that they sheltered it completely from +the wind, so, when it did freeze, it generally froze as smooth as a sheet +of glass.</p> + +<p>"The lake bears!" was such a grand event, and so rare, that when +it did occur, the news came at once to the farm, and the children +carried it as quickly to their mother. For she had promised them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +that, if such a thing did happen this year—it did not happen every +year—lessons should be stopped entirely, and they should all go +down to the lake and slide, if they liked, all day long.</p> + +<p>So one morning, just before Christmas, the eldest boy ran in with +a countenance of great delight.</p> + +<p>"Mother, mother, the lake bears!" (It was rather a compliment +to call it a lake, it being only about twenty yards across and forty +long.) "The lake really bears!"</p> + +<p>"Who says so?"</p> + +<p>"Bill. Bill has been on it for an hour this morning, and has made +us two such beautiful slides, he says—an upslide and a down-slide. +May we go directly?"</p> + +<p>The mother hesitated.</p> + +<p>"You promised, you know," pleaded the children.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then; only be careful."</p> + +<p>"And may we slide all day long, and never come home for dinner +or any thing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you like. Only Gardener must go with you, and stay +all day."</p> + +<p>This they did not like at all; nor, when Gardener was spoken to, +did he.</p> + +<p>"You bothering children! I wish you may all get a good ducking +in the lake! Serve you right for making me lose a day's work, just +to look after you little monkeys. I've a great mind to tell your +mother I won't do it."</p> + +<p>But he did not, being fond of his mistress. He was also fond of +his work, but he had no notion of play. I think the saying of, "All +work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," must have been applied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +to him, for Gardener, whatever he had been as a boy, was certainly +a dull and melancholy man. The children used to say that if he and +idle Bill could have been kneaded into one, and baked in the oven—a +very warm oven—they would have come out rather a pleasant +person.</p> + +<p>As it was, Gardener was any thing but a pleasant person; above +all, to spend a long day with, and on the ice, where one needs all +one's cheerfulness and good-humor to bear pinched fingers and +numbed toes, and trips and tumbles, and various uncomfortablenesses.</p> + +<p>"He'll growl at us all day long—he'll be a regular spoil-sport!" +lamented the children. "Oh! mother, mightn't we go alone?"</p> + +<p>"No!" said the mother; and her "No" meant no, though she was +always very kind. They argued the point no more, but started off, +rather downhearted. But soon they regained their spirits, for it +was <ins title="Transcriber's Note: this word not present in the original">a</ins> bright, clear, frosty day—the sun shining, though not enough +to melt the ice, and just sufficient to lie like a thin sprinkling over +the grass, and turn the brown branches into white ones. The little +people danced along to keep themselves warm, carrying between +them a basket which held their lunch. A very harmless lunch it +was—just a large brown loaf and a lump of cheese, and a knife to +cut it with. Tossing the basket about in their fun, they managed +to tumble the knife out, and were having a search for it in the long +grass, when Gardener came up, grumpily enough.</p> + +<p>"To think of trusting you children with one of the table-knives +and a basket! what a fool Cook must be! I'll tell her so; and if +they're lost she'll blame me: give me the things."</p> + +<p>He put the knife angrily in one pocket. "Perhaps it will cut a hole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +in it," said one of the children, in rather a pleased tone than otherwise; +then he turned the lunch all out on the grass and crammed it +in the other pocket, hiding the basket behind a hedge.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I'll not be at the trouble of carrying it," said he, when +the children cried out at this; "and you shan't carry it either, for you'll +knock it about and spoil it. And as for your lunch getting warm in +my pocket, why, so much the better this cold day."</p> + +<p>It was not a lively joke, and they knew the pocket was very dirty; +indeed, the little girls had seen him stuff a dead rat into it only the +day before. They looked ready to cry; but there was no help +for them, except going back and complaining to their mother, and +they did not like to do that. Besides, they knew that, though Gardener +was cross, he was trustworthy, and she would never let them +go down to the lake without him.</p> + +<p>So they followed him, trying to be as good as they could—though +it was difficult work. One of them proposed pelting him with snowballs, +as they pelted each other. But at the first—which fell in his +neck—he turned round so furiously, that they never sent a second, +but walked behind him as meek as mice.</p> + +<p>As they went, they heard little steps pattering after them.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is the Brownie to play with us—I wish he would," +whispered the youngest girl to the eldest boy, whose hand she generally +held; and then the little pattering steps sounded again, traveling +through the snow, but they saw nobody—so they said nothing.</p> + +<p>The children would have liked to go straight to the ice; but Gardener +insisted on taking them a mile round, to look at an extraordinary +animal which a farmer there had just got—sent by his +brother in Australia. The two old men stood gossiping so long that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +the children wearied extremely. Every minute seemed an hour till +they got on the ice.</p> + +<p>At last one of them pulled Gardener's coat-tails, and whispered +that they were quite ready to go.</p> + +<p>"Then I'm not," and he waited ever so much longer, and got a +drink of hot cider, which made him quite lively for a little while.</p> + +<p>But by the time they reached the lake, he was as cross as ever. +He struck the ice with his stick, but made no attempt to see if it really +did bear—though he would not allow the children to go one step +upon it till he had tried.</p> + +<p>"I know it doesn't bear, and you'll just have to go home again—a +good thing too—saves me from losing a day's work."</p> + +<p>"Try, only try; Bill said it bore," implored the boys, and looked +wistfully at the two beautiful slides—just as Bill said, one up and +one down—stretching all across the lake; "of course it bears, or Bill +could not have made these slides."</p> + +<p>"Bill's an ass!" said the Gardener, and put his heavy foot cautiously +on the ice. Just then there was seen jumping across it a creature +which certainly had never been seen on ice before. It made the +most extraordinary bounds on its long hind legs, with its little fore +legs tucked up in front of it as if it wanted to carry a muff; and its +long, stiff tail sticking out straight behind, to balance it itself with +apparently. The children at first started with surprise, and then +burst out laughing, for it was the funniest creature, and had the +funniest way of getting along, that they had ever seen in their lives.</p> + +<p>"It's the kangaroo!" said Gardener, in great excitement. "It +has got loose—and it's sure to be lost—and what a way Mr. Giles +will be in! I must go and tell him. Or stop, I'll try and catch it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>But in vain—it darted once or twice across the ice, dodging him, +as it were; and once coming so close that he nearly caught it by the +tail—to the children's great delight—then it vanished entirely.</p> + +<p>"I must go and tell Mr. Giles directly," said Gardener, and then +stopped. For he had promised not to leave the children; and it was +such a wild-goose chase, after an escaped kangaroo. But he might +get half a crown as a reward, and he was sure of another glass of cider.</p> + +<p>"You just stop quiet here, and I'll be back in five minutes," said +he to the children. "You may go a little way on the ice—I think it's +sound enough; only mind you don't tumble in, for there'll be nobody +to pull you out."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said the children, clapping their hands. They did not +care for tumbling in, and were quite glad there was nobody there +to pull them out. They hoped Gardener would stop a very long +time away—only, as some one suggested when he was seen hurrying +across the snowy field, he had taken away their lunch in his pocket, +too.</p> + +<p>Off they darted, the three elder boys, with a good run; the biggest +of the girls followed after them; and soon the whole four were skimming +one after the other, as fast as a railway train, across the slippery +ice. And, like a railway train, they had a collision, and all came +tumbling one over the other, with great screaming and laughing, to +the high bank on the other side. The two younger ones stood mournfully +watching the others from the opposite bank—when there stood +beside them a small brown man.</p> + +<p>"Ho-ho! little people," said he, coming between them and taking +hold of a hand of each. His was so warm and theirs so cold, that it +was quite comfortable. And then, somehow, they found in their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +mouths a nice lozenge—I think it was peppermint, but am not sure; +which comforted them still more.</p> + +<p>"Did you want me to play with you?" cried the Brownie; "then +here I am. What shall we do? Have a turn on the ice together?"</p> + +<p>No sooner said than done. The two children felt themselves +floating along—it was more like floating than running—with Brownie +between them; up the lake, and down the lake, and across the lake, +not at all interfering with the sliders—indeed, it was a great deal +better than sliding. Rosy and breathless, their toes so nice and +warm, and their hands feeling like mince-pies just taken out of the +oven—the little ones came to a standstill.</p> + +<p>The elder ones stopped their sliding, and looked toward Brownie +with entreating eyes. He swung himself up to a willow bough, and +then turned head over heels on to the ice.</p> + +<p>"Halloo! you don't mean to say you big ones want a race too! +Well, come along—if the two eldest will give a slide to the little ones."</p> + +<p>He watched them take a tiny sister between them, and slide her +up one slide and down another, screaming with delight. Then he +took the two middle children in either hand.</p> + +<p>"One, two, three, and away!" Off they started—scudding along +as light as feathers and as fast as steam-engines, over the smooth, +black ice, so clear that they could see the bits of stick and water-grasses +frozen in it, and even the little fishes swimming far down below—if +they had only looked long enough.</p> + +<p>When all had had their fair turns, they began to be frightfully +hungry.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 427px;"> +<img src="images/i023.jpg" width="427" height="600" alt="The two little children felt themselves floating along—with Brownie between them—Page 64" title="" /> +<span class="caption">The two little children felt themselves floating along—with Brownie between them—Page 64</span> +</div> + +<p>"Catch a fish for dinner, and I'll lend you a hook," said Brownie. +At which they all laughed, and then looked rather grave. Pulling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +a cold, raw live fish from under the ice and eating it was not a pleasant +idea of dinner. "Well, what would you like to have? Let the little +one choose."</p> + +<p>She said, after thinking a minute, that she should like a currant-cake.</p> + +<p>"And I'd give all you a bit of it—a very large bit—I would indeed!" +added she, almost with the tears in her eyes—she was so very +hungry.</p> + +<p>"Do it, then!" said the Brownie, in his little squeaking voice.</p> + +<p>Immediately the stone that the little girl was sitting on—a round, +hard stone, and so cold!—turned into a nice hot cake—so hot that +she jumped up directly. As soon as she saw what it was, she clapped +her hands for joy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful cake! only we haven't got a +knife to cut it."</p> + +<p>The boys felt in all their pockets, but somehow their knives never +were there when they were wanted.</p> + +<p>"Look! you've got one in your hand!" said Brownie to the little +one; and that minute a bit of stick she held turned into a bread-knife—silver, +with an ivory handle—big enough and sharp enough, +without being too sharp. For the youngest girl was not allowed to use +sharp knives, though she liked cutting things excessively, especially +cakes.</p> + +<p>"That will do. Sit you down and carve the dinner. Fair shares +and don't let any body eat too much. Now begin, ma'am," said +the Brownie, quite politely, as if she had been ever so old.</p> + +<p>Oh, how proud the little girl was. How bravely she set to work, +and cut five of the biggest slices you ever saw, and gave them to her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +brothers and sisters, and was just going to take the sixth slice for +herself, when she remembered the Brownie.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said she, as politely as he, though she was +such a very little girl, and turned round to the wee brown man. But +he was nowhere to be seen. The slices of cake in the children's +hands remained cake, and uncommonly good it was, and such substantial +eating that it did nearly the same as dinner; but the cake +itself turned suddenly to a stone again, and the knife into a bit of +stick.</p> + +<p>For there was the Gardener coming clumping along by the bank +of the lake, and growling as he went.</p> + +<p>"Have you got the kangaroo?" shouted the children, determined +to be civil, if possible.</p> + +<p>"This <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'plaee'">place</ins> is bewitched, I think," said he, "The kangaroo was +fast asleep in the cow-shed. What! how dare you laugh at me?"</p> + +<p>But they hadn't laughed at all. And they found it no laughing +matter, poor children, when Gardener came on the ice, and began to +scold them and order them about. He was perfectly savage with +crossness; for the people at Giles's Farm had laughed at him very +much, and he did not like to be laughed at—and at the top of the +field he had by chance met his mistress, and she asked him severely +how he could think of leaving the children alone.</p> + +<p>Altogether, his conscience pricked him a good deal, and when +people's consciences prick them, sometimes they get angry with +other people, which is very silly, and only makes matters worse.</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing all this time?" said he.</p> + +<p>"All this five minutes?" said the oldest boy, mischievously; for +Gardener was only to be away five minutes, and he had staid a full<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +hour. Also, when he fumbled in his pocket for the children's lunch—to +stop their tongues, perhaps—he found it was not there.</p> + +<p>They set up a great outcry; for, in spite of the cake, they could +have eaten a little more. Indeed, the frost had such an effect upon +all their appetites, that they felt not unlike that celebrated gentleman +of whom it is told that</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"He ate a cow, and ate a calf,<br /> +He ate an ox, and ate a half;<br /> +He ate a church, he ate the steeple,<br /> +He ate the priest, and all the people,<br /> +And said he hadn't had enough then."<br /> +</div> + +<p>"We're so hungry, so very hungry! Couldn't you go back again +and fetch us some dinner?" cried they, entreatingly.</p> + +<p>"Not I, indeed. You may go back to dinner yourselves. You +shall, indeed, for I want my dinner too. Two hours is plenty long +enough to stop on the ice."</p> + +<p>"It isn't two hours—it's only one."</p> + +<p>"Well, one will do better than more. You're all right now—and +you might soon tumble in, or break your legs on the slide. So come +away home."</p> + +<p>It wasn't kind of Gardener, and I don't wonder the children felt +it hard; indeed, the eldest boy resisted stoutly.</p> + +<p>"Mother said we might stop all day, and we will stop all day. +You may go home if you like."</p> + +<p>"I won't, and you shall!" said Gardener, smacking a whip that +he carried in his hand. "Stop till I catch you, and I'll give you this +about your back, my fine gentleman."</p> + +<p>And he tried to follow, but the little fellow darted across the ice,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +objecting to be either caught or whipped. It may have been rather +naughty, but I am afraid it was great fun dodging the Gardener up +and down; he being too timid to go on the slippery ice, and sometimes +getting so close that the whip nearly touched the lad.</p> + +<p>"Bless us! there's the kangaroo again!" said he, starting. Just +as he had caught the boy, and lifted the whip, the creature was seen +hop-hopping from bank to bank. "I can't surely be mistaken this +time; I must catch it."</p> + +<p>Which seemed quite easy, for it limped as if it was lame, or as if +the frost had bitten its toes, poor beast! Gardener went after it, +walking cautiously on the slippery, crackling ice, and never minding +whether or not he walked on the slides, though they called out to him +that his nailed boots would spoil them.</p> + +<p>But whether it was that ice which bears a boy will not bear a man, +or whether at each lame step of the kangaroo there came a great crack, +is more than I can tell. However, just as Gardener reached the +middle of the lake, the ice suddenly broke, and in he popped.—The +kangaroo too, apparently, for it was not seen afterward.</p> + +<p>What a hullaballoo the poor man made! Not that he was drowning—the +lake was too shallow to drown any body, but he got terribly +wet, and the water was very cold. He soon scrambled out, the boys +helping him; and then he hobbled home as fast as he could, not even +saying thank you, or taking the least notice of them.</p> + +<p>Indeed, nobody took notice of them—nobody came to fetch them, +and they might have staid sliding the whole afternoon. Only somehow +they did not feel quite easy in their minds. And though the +hole in the ice closed up immediately, and it seemed as firm as ever, +still they did not like to slide upon it again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 229px;"> +<img src="images/i024.jpg" width="229" height="450" alt="The ice suddenly broke, and in he popped." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The ice <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'suddenl'">suddenly</ins> broke, and in he popped.</span> +</div> +<p>"I think we had better go home and tell mother every thing," +said one of them. "Besides, we ought to see what has become of +poor Gardener. He was very wet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but oh, how funny he +looked!" And they all burst out +laughing at the recollection of the +figure he cut, scrambling out +through the ice with his trowsers +dripping up to the knees, and the +water running out of his boots, +making a little pool, wherever he +stepped.</p> + +<p>"And it freezes so hard, that by +the time he gets home his clothes +will be as stiff as a board. His +wife will have to put him to the +fire to thaw before he can get out +of them."</p> + + + +<p>Again the little people burst into +shouts of laughter. Although +they laughed, they were a little +sorry for the poor old Gardener, +and hoped no great harm had come to him, but that he had got safe +home and been dried by his own warm fire.</p> + +<p>The frosty mist was beginning already to rise, and the sun, though +still high up in the sky, looked like a ball of red-hot iron as the six +children went homeward across the fields—merry enough still, but +not quite so merry as they had been a few hours before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Let's hope mother won't be vexed with us," said they, "but will +let us come back again to-morrow. It wasn't our fault that Gardener +tumbled in."</p> + +<p>As somebody said this, they all heard quite distinctly, "Ha, ha, +ha!" and "Ho, ho, ho!" and a sound of little steps pattering behind.</p> + +<p>But whatever they thought, nobody ventured to say that it was the +fault of the Brownie.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 102px;"> +<img src="images/i025.png" width="102" height="300" alt="Roses" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> +<div class='center'><table class="six" summary="six"> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<div class='chapter'>ADVENTURE THE SIXTH<br /> AND LAST</div> + +<div class='title'>BROWNIE AND THE CLOTHES</div><br /><br /><br /><br /> +</td> +</tr></table></div> + + + + +<div class='cap'>TILL the next time; but when there +is a Brownie in the house, no +one can say that any of his tricks will be the last. For there's no +stopping a Brownie, and no getting rid of him either. This one had +followed the family from house to house, generation after generation—never +any older, and sometimes seeming even to grow younger by +the tricks he played. In fact, though he looked like an old man, he +was a perpetual child.</div> + +<p>To the children he never did any harm, quite the contrary. And +his chief misdoings were against those who vexed the children. But +he gradually made friends with several of his grown up enemies. +Cook, for instance, who had ceased to be lazy at night and late in +the morning, found no more black footmarks on her white table cloth. +And Brownie found his basin of milk waiting for him, night after +night, behind the coal-cellar door.</p> + +<p>Bill, too, got on well enough with his pony, and Jess was taken +no more night-rides. No ducks were lost; and Dolly gave her milk +quite comfortably to whoever milked her. Alas! this was either<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +Bill or the Gardener's wife now. After that adventure on the ice, +poor Gardener very seldom appeared; when he did, it was on two +crutches, for he had had rheumatism in his feet, and could not stir +outside his cottage door. Bill, therefore, had double work; which +was probably all the better for Bill.</p> + +<p>The garden had to take care of itself; but this being winter-time, it +did not much signify. Besides, Brownie seldom went into the +garden, except in summer; during the hard weather he preferred +to stop in his coal-cellar. It might not have been a lively place, +but it was warm, and he liked it.</p> + +<p>He had company there, too; for when the cat had more kittens—the +kitten he used to tease being grown up now—they were all put +in a hamper in the coal-cellar; and of cold nights Brownie used to +jump in beside them, and be as warm and as cozy as a kitten himself. +The little things never were heard to mew; so it may be supposed +they liked his society. And the old mother-cat evidently bore him +no malice for the whipping she had got by mistake; so Brownie must +have found means of coaxing her over. One thing you may be +sure of—all the while she and her kittens were in his coal-cellar, he +took care never to turn himself into a mouse.</p> + +<p>He was spending the winter, on the whole, very comfortably, +without much trouble either to himself or his neighbors, when one +day, the coal-cellar being nearly empty, two men, and a great wagon-load +of coals behind them, came to the door, Gardener's wife following.</p> + +<p>"My man says you're to give the cellar a good cleaning out before +you put any more in," said she, in her sharp voice; "and don't be +lazy about it. It'll not take you ten minutes, for it's nearly all coal-dust,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +except that one big lump in the corner—you might clear that +out too."</p> + +<p>"Stop, it's the Brownie's lump! better not meddle with it," whispered +the little scullery-maid.</p> + +<p>"Don't you meddle with matters that can't concern you," said +the Gardener's wife, who had been thinking what a nice help it would +be to her fire. To be sure, it was not her lump of coal, but she +thought she might take it; the mistress would never miss it, or the +Brownie either. He must be a very silly old Brownie to live under +a lump of coal.</p> + +<p>So she argued with herself, and made the men lift it. "You must +lift it, you see, if you are to sweep the coal-cellar out clean. And +you may as well put it on the barrow, and I'll wheel it out of your +way."</p> + +<p>This she said in quite a civil voice, lest they should tell of her, and +stood by while it was being done. It was done without any thing +happening, except that a large rat ran out of the coal-cellar door, +bouncing against her feet, and frightening her so much that she +nearly tumbled down.</p> + +<p>"See what nonsense it is to talk of Brownies living in a coal-cellar. +Nothing lives there but rats, and I'll have them poisoned pretty soon, +and get rid of them."</p> + +<p>But she was rather frightened all the same, for the rat had been +such a very big rat, and had looked at her, as it darted past, with +such wild, bright, mischievous eyes—brown eyes, of course—that +she all but jumped with surprise.</p> + +<p>However, she had got her lump of coal, and was wheeling it quietly +away, nobody seeing, to her cottage at the bottom of the garden. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +was a hard-worked woman, and her husband's illness made things +harder for her. Still, she was not quite easy at taking what did not +belong to her.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose any body will miss the coal," she repeated. +"I dare say the mistress would have given it to me if I had asked her; +and as for its being the Brownie's lump—fudge! Bless us! what's +that?"</p> + +<p>For the barrow began to creak dreadfully, and every creak sounded +like the cry of a child, just as if the wheel were going over its leg +and crushing its poor little bones.</p> + +<p>"What a horrid noise! I must grease the barrow. If only I +knew where they keep the grease-box. All goes wrong, now my old +man's laid up. Oh, dear! oh dear!"</p> + +<p>For suddenly the barrow had tilted over, though there was not a +single stone near, and the big coal was tumbled on to the ground, +where it broke into a thousand pieces. Gathering it up again was +hopeless, and it made such a mess on the gravel-walk, that the old +woman was thankful her misfortune happened behind the privet +hedge, where nobody was likely to come.</p> + +<p>"I'll take a broom and sweep it up to-morrow. Nobody goes near +the orchard now, except me when I hang out the clothes; so I need +say nothing about it to the old man or any body. But ah! deary me, +what a beautiful lot of coal I've lost!"</p> + +<p>She stood and looked at it mournfully, and then went into her cottage, +where she found two or three of the little children keeping Gardener +company. They did not dislike to do this now; but he was so much +kinder than he used to be—so quiet and patient, though he suffered +very much. And he had never once reproached them for what they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +always remembered—how it was ever since he was on the ice with +them that he had got the rheumatism.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 226px;"> +<img src="images/i027.jpg" width="226" height="450" alt="Suddenly the barrow had tilted over." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Suddenly the barrow had tilted over.</span> +</div> + +<p>So, one or other of them made a point of going to see him every +day, and telling him all the funny +things they could think of—indeed, +it was a contest among them who +should first make Gardener laugh. +They did not succeed in doing +that exactly; but they managed to +make him smile; and he was always +gentle and grateful to them; +so that they sometimes thought +it was rather nice his being ill.</p> + +<p>But his wife was not pleasant; +she grumbled all day long, and +snapped at him and his visitors; +being especially snappish this day, +because she had lost her big coal.</p> + +<p>"I can't have you children come +bothering here," said she, crossly. +"I want to wring out my clothes, +and hang them to dry. Be off with +you!"</p> + +<p>"Let us stop a little—just to tell Gardener this one curious thing +about Dolly and the pig—and then we'll help you to take your clothes +to the orchard; we can carry your basket between us—we can, indeed."</p> + +<p>That was the last thing the woman wished; for she knew the +that the children would be sure to see the mess on the gravel-walk—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +they were such inquisitive children—they noticed every thing. +They would want to know all about it, and how the bits of coal came +there. It was very a awkward position. But people who take other +people's property often do find themselves in awkward positions.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, young gentlemen," said she, quite politely; "but +indeed the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'bakset'">basket</ins> is too heavy for you. However, you may stop +and gossip a little longer with my old man. He likes it."</p> + +<p>And, while they were shut up with Gardener in his bedroom, off +she went, carrying the basket on her head, and hung her clothes +carefully out—the big things on lines between the fruit trees, and the +little things, such as stockings and pocket handkerchiefs, stuck on +the gooseberry-bushes, or spread upon the clean green grass.</p> + +<p>"Such a fine day as it is! they'll dry directly," said she, cheerfully, +to herself. "Plenty of sun, and not a breath of wind to blow them +about. I'll leave them for an hour or two, and come and fetch them +in before it grows dark. Then I shall get all my folding done by +bedtime, and have a clear day for ironing to-morrow."</p> + +<p>But when she did fetch them in, having bundled them all together +in the dusk of the evening, never was such a sight as those clothes! +They were all twisted in the oddest way—the stockings turned inside +out, with the heels and toes tucked into the legs; the sleeves of the +shirts tied together in double knots, the pocket-handkerchiefs made +into round balls, so tight that if you had pelted a person with them +they would have given very hard <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'bolws'">blows</ins> indeed. And the whole +looked as if, instead of lying quietly on the grass and bushes, they had +been dragged through heaps of mud and then stamped upon, so that +there was not a clean inch upon them from end to end.</p> + +<p>"What a horrid mess!" cried the Gardener's wife, who had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +at first very angry, and then very frightened. "But I know what it +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'it'">is</ins>; that nasty Boxer has got loose again. It's he that has done it."</p> + +<p>"Boxer wouldn't tie shirt-sleeves in double knots, or make balls +of pocket-handkerchiefs," Gardener was heard to answer, solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Then it's those horrid children; they are always up to some +mischief or other—just let me catch them!"</p> + +<p>"You'd better not," said somebody in a voice exactly like Gardener's, +though he himself declared he had not spoken a word. Indeed, +he was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of," the +Gardener's wife said, supposing she was talking to her husband all the +time; but soon she held her tongue, for she found here and there +among the clothes all sorts of queer marks—marks of fingers, and +toes, and heels, not in mud at all, but in coal-dust, as black as black +could be.</p> + +<p>Now, as the place where the big coal had tumbled out of the +barrow was fully fifty yards from the orchard, and, as the coal could +not come to the clothes, and the clothes could not go without hands, +the only conclusion she could arrive at was—well, no particular +conclusion at all!</p> + +<p>It was too late that night to begin washing again; besides, she was +extremely tired, and her husband woke up rather worse than usual, +so she just bundled the clothes up anyhow in a corner, put the kitchen +to rights, and went mournfully to bed.</p> + +<p>Next morning she got up long before it was light, washed her +clothes through all over again, and, it being impossible to dry them +by the fire, went out with them once more, and began spreading +them out in their usual corner, in a hopeless and melancholy manner.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +While she was at it, the little folks came trooping around her. She +didn't scold them this time, she was too low-spirited.</p> + +<p>"No! my old man isn't any better, and I don't fancy he ever will +be," said she, in answer to their questions. "And every thing's +going wrong with us—just listen!" And she told the trick which +had been played her about the clothes.</p> + +<p>The little people tried not to laugh, but it was so funny; and even +now, the minute she had done hanging them out, there was something +so droll in the way the clothes blew about, without any wind; +the shirts hanging with their necks <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'donwward'">downward</ins>, as if there was a man +inside them; and the drawers standing stiffly astride on the gooseberry-bushes, +for all the world as if they held a pair of legs still. As +for Gardener's night-caps—long, white cotton, with a tassel at the +top—they were alarming to look at; just like a head stuck on the top +of a pole.</p> + +<p>The whole thing was so peculiar, and the old woman so comical +in her despair, that the children, after trying hard to keep it in, at +last broke into shouts of laughter. She turned furiously upon them.</p> + +<p>"It was you who did it!"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed it wasn't!" said they, jumping farther to escape +her blows. For she had got one of her clothes-props, and was laying +about her in the most reckless manner. However, she hurt nobody, +and then she suddenly burst out, not laughing, but crying.</p> + +<p>"It's a cruel thing, whoever has done it, to play such tricks on a +poor old body like me, with a sick husband that she works hard for, +and not a child to help her. But I don't care. I'll wash my clothes +again, if it's twenty times over, and I'll hang them out again in the +very place, just to make you all ashamed of yourselves."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>Perhaps the little people were ashamed of themselves, though +they really had not done the mischief. But they knew quite well +who had done it, and more than once they were about to tell; only +they were afraid, if they did so, they should vex the Brownie so much +that he would never come and play with them any more.</p> + +<p>So they looked at one another without speaking, and when the Gardener's +wife had emptied her basket and dried her eyes, they said +to her, very kindly:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps no harm may come to your clothes this time. We'll +sit and watch them till they are dry."</p> + +<p>"Just as you like; I don't care. Them that hides can find, and +them that plays tricks knows how to stop 'em."</p> + +<p>It was not a civil speech, but then things were hard for the poor old +woman. She had been awake nearly all night, and up washing at +daybreak; her eyes were red with crying, and her steps weary and +slow. The little children felt quite sorry for her, and, instead of +going to play, sat watching the clothes as patiently as possible.</p> + +<p>Nothing came near them. Sometimes, as before, the things seemed +to dance about without hands, and turn into odd shapes, as if there +were people inside them; but not a creature was seen and not a sound +was heard. And though there was neither wind nor sun, very soon +all the linen was perfectly dry.</p> + +<p>"Fetch one of mother's baskets, and we'll fold it up as tidily as +possible—that is, the girls can do it, it's their business—and we boys +will carry it safe to Gardener's cottage."</p> + +<p>So said they, not liking to say that they could not trust it out of +their sight for fear of Brownie, whom, indeed, they were expecting +to see peer round from every bush. They began to have a secret<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +fear that he was rather a naughty Brownie; but then, as the eldest +little girl whispered, "He was only a Brownie, and knew no better." +Now they were growing quite big children, who would be men and +women some time; when they hoped they would never do any thing +wrong. (Their parents hoped the same, but doubted it.)</p> + +<p>In a serious and careful manner they folded up the clothes, and +laid them one by one in the basket without any mischief, until, just +as the two biggest boys were lifting their burden to carry it away, +they felt something tugging at it from underneath.</p> + +<p>"Halloo! Where are you taking all this rubbish? Better give +it to me."</p> + +<p>"No, if you please," said they, very civilly, not to offend the little +brown man. "We'll not trouble you, thanks! We'd rather do it +ourselves; for poor Gardener is very ill, and his wife is very miserable, +and we are extremely sorry for them both."</p> + +<p>"Extremely sorry!" cried Brownie, throwing up his cap in the +air, and tumbling head over heels in an excited manner. "What +in the world does extremely sorry mean?"</p> + +<p>The children could not explain, especially to a Brownie; but they +thought they understood—anyhow, they felt it. And they looked so +sorrowful that the Brownie could not tell what to make of it.</p> + +<p>He could not be said to be sorry, since, being a Brownie, and not +a human being, knowing right from wrong, he never tried particularly +to do right, and had no idea that he was doing wrong. But he seemed +to have an idea that he was troubling the children, and he never liked +to see them look unhappy.</p> + +<p>So he turned head over heels six times running, and then came +back again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The silly old woman! I washed her clothes for her last night +in a way she didn't expect. I hadn't any soap, so I used a little +mud and coal-dust, and very pretty they looked. Ha, ha, ha! Shall +I wash them over again to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, please don't!" implored the children.</p> + +<p>"Shall I starch and iron them? I'll do it beautifully. One—two—three, +five—six—seven, Abracadabra, tum—tum—ti!" shouted +he, jabbering all sorts of nonsense, as it seemed to the children, and +playing such antics that they stood and stared in the utmost amazement, +and quite forgot the clothes. When they looked round again, +the basket was gone.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Seek till you find, seek till you find,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Under the biggest gooseberry-bush, exactly to your mind."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>They heard him singing this remarkable rhyme, long after they +had lost sight of him. And then they all set about searching; but it +was a long while before they found, and still longer before they could +decide, which was the biggest gooseberry-bush, each child having +his or her opinion—sometimes a very strong one—on the matter. +At last they agreed to settle it by pulling half-a-dozen little sticks, +to see which stick was the longest, and the child that held it was to +decide the gooseberry-bush.</p> + +<p>This done, underneath the branches what should they find but +the identical basket of clothes! only, instead of being roughly dried, +they were all starched and ironed in the most beautiful manner. As +for the shirts, they really were a picture to behold, and the stockings +were all folded up, and even darned in one or two places, as neatly +as possible. And strange to tell, there was not a single black mark +of feet or fingers on any one of them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Kind little Brownie! clever little Brownie!" cried the children +in chorus, and thought this was the most astonishing trick he had +ever played.</p> + +<p>What the Gardener's wife said about it, whether they told her any +thing, or allowed her to suppose that the clothes had been done in +their own laundry instead of the Brownie's (wherever that establishment +might be), is more than I can tell. Of one thing only I am +certain—that the little people said nothing but what was true. Also, +that the very minute they got home they told their mother every thing.</p> + +<p>But for a long time after that they were a good deal troubled. +Gardener got better, and went hobbling about the place again, to +his own and every body's great content, and his wife was less sharp-tongued +and complaining than usual—indeed, she had nothing to +complain of. All the family were very flourishing, except the little +Brownie.</p> + +<p>Often there was heard a curious sound all over the house; it might +have been rats squeaking behind the wainscot—the elders said it +was—but the children were sure it was a sort of weeping and wailing.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"They've stolen my coal,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And I haven't a hole</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To hide in;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Not even a house</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">One could ask a mouse</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To bide in."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>A most forlorn tune it was, ending in a dreary minor key, and it +lasted for months and months—at least the children said it did. +And they were growing quite dull for want of a playfellow, when, +by the greatest good luck in the world, there came to the house not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +only a new lot of kittens, but a new baby. And the new baby was +everybody's pet, including the Brownie's.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 424px;"> +<img src="images/i028.jpg" width="424" height="600" alt="The new baby was everybody's pet.—Page 87" title="" /> +<span class="caption">The new baby was everybody's pet.—Page 87</span> +</div> + +<p>From that time, though he was not often seen, he was continually +heard up and down the staircase, where he was frequently mistaken +for Tiny or the cat, and sent sharply down again, which was wasting +a great deal of wholesome anger upon Mr. Nobody. Or he lurked +in odd corners of the nursery, whither the baby was seen crawling +eagerly after nothing in particular, or sitting laughing with all her +might at something—probably her own toes.</p> + +<p>But, as Brownie was never seen, he was never suspected. And +since he did no mischief—neither pinched the baby nor broke the +toys, left no soap in the bath and no footmarks about the room—but +was always a well-conducted Brownie in every way, he was +allowed to inhabit the nursery (or supposed to do so, since, as nobody +saw him, nobody could prevent him), until the children were grown +up into men and women.</p> + +<p>After that he retired into his coal-cellar, and, for all I know, he +may live there still, and have gone through hundreds of adventures +since; but as I never heard them, I can't tell them. Only I think, +if I could be a little child again, I should exceedingly like a Brownie +to play with me. Should not you?</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/i029.png" width="150" height="83" alt="Decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i030.png" width="600" height="120" alt="Some Poems For Children By Miss Mulock" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h3>THE BLACKBIRD AND THE ROOKS.</h3> + + +<div class='poem2'> +<span class="smcap">A slender</span> young Blackbird built in a thorn-tree<br /> +A spruce little fellow as ever could be;<br /> +His bill was so yellow, his feathers so black,<br /> +So long was his tail, and so glossy his back,<br /> +That good Mrs. B., who sat hatching her eggs,<br /> +And only just left them to stretch her poor legs,<br /> +And pick for a minute the worm she preferred,<br /> +Thought there never was seen such a beautiful bird.<br /> +<br /> +And such a kind husband! how early and late<br /> +He would sit at the top of the old garden gate,<br /> +And sing, just as merry as if it were June,<br /> +Being ne'er out of patience, or temper, or tune.<br /> +"So unlike those Rooks, dear; from morning till night<br /> +They seem to do nothing but quarrel and fight,<br /> +And wrangle and jangle, and plunder—while we<br /> +Sit, honest and safe, in our pretty thorn-tree."<br /> +<br /> +Just while she was speaking, a lively young Rook<br /> +Alit with a flap that the thorn-bush quite shook,<br /> +And seizing a stick from the nest—"Come, I say,<br /> +That will just suit me, neighbor"—flew with it away<br /> +The lady loud twittered—her husband soon heard:<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>Though peaceful, he was not a cowardly bird;<br /> +And with arguments angry enough to o'erwhelm<br /> +A whole Rookery—flew to the top of the elm.<br /> +<br /> +"How dare you, you—" (thief he was going to say;<br /> +But a civiller sentiment came in the way:<br /> +For he knew 'tis no good, and it anyhow shames<br /> +A gentleman, calling strange gentlemen names:)<br /> +"Pray what is your motive, Sir Rook, for such tricks,<br /> +As building your mansion with other folks' sticks?<br /> +I request you'll restore them, in justice and law."<br /> +At which the whole colony set up a—caw!<br /> +<br /> +But Blackbird, not silenced, then spoke out again;<br /> +"I've built my small nest with much labor and pain.<br /> +I'm a poor singing gentleman, Sirs, it is true,<br /> +Though cockneys do often mistake me for you;<br /> +But I keep Mrs. Blackbird, and four little eggs,<br /> +And neither e'er pilfers, or borrows, or begs.<br /> +Now have I not right on my side, do you see?"<br /> +But they flew at and pecked him all down the elm-tree.<br /> +<br /> +Ah! wickedness prospers sometimes, I much fear;<br /> +And virtue's not always victorious, that's clear:<br /> +At least, not at first: for it must be confessed<br /> +Poor Blackbird lost many a stick from his nest;<br /> +And his unkind grand neighbors with scoffing caw-caws,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>In his voice and his character found many flaws,<br /> +And jeered him and mocked him; but when they'd all done,<br /> +He flew to his tree and sang cheerily on.<br /> +<br /> +At length May arrived with her garlands of leaves;<br /> +The swallows were building beneath the farm-eaves,<br /> +Wrens, linnets, and sparrows, on every hedge-side,<br /> +Were bringing their families out with great pride;<br /> +While far above all, on the tallest tree-top,<br /> +With a flutter and clamor that never did stop,<br /> +The haughty old Rooks held their heads up so high,<br /> +And dreamed not of trouble—until it drew nigh!<br /> +<br /> +One morning at seven, as he came with delight<br /> +To his wife's pretty parlor of may-blossoms white,<br /> +Having fed all his family ere rise of sun,—<br /> +Mr. Blackbird perceived—a big man with a gun;<br /> +Who also perceived him: "See, Charlie, among<br /> +That may, sits the Blackbird we've heard for so long:<br /> +Most likely his nest's there—how frightened he looks!<br /> +Nay, Blackie, we're not come for you, but the Rooks."<br /> +<br /> +I don't say 'twas cruel—I can't say 'twas kind—<br /> +On the subject I haven't quite made up my mind:<br /> +But those guns went pop-popping all morning, alas!<br /> +And young Rooks kept dropping among the long grass,<br /> +Till good Mr. Blackbird, who watched the whole thing,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>For pity could scarcely a single note sing,<br /> +And in the May sunset he hardly could bear<br /> +To hear the returning Rooks' caw of despair.<br /> +<br /> +"O, dear Mrs. Blackbird," at last warbled he,<br /> +"How happy we are in our humble thorn-tree;<br /> +How gaily we live, living honest and poor,<br /> +How sweet are the may-blossoms over our door."<br /> +"And then our dear children," the mother replied,<br /> +And she nested them close to her warm feathered side,<br /> +And with a soft twitter of drowsy content,<br /> +In the quiet May moonlight to sleep they all went.<br /> +</div> + + + +<h3><br />THE SHAKING OF THE PEAR-TREE</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Of</span> all days I remember,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In summers passed away,</span><br /> +Was "the shaking of the pear-tree,"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In grandma's orchard gay.</span><br /> +<br /> +A large old-fashioned orchard,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With long grass under foot,</span><br /> +And blackberry-brambles crawling<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In many a tangled shoot.</span><br /> +<br /> +From cherry time, till damsons<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dropped from the branches sere,</span><br /> +That wonderful old orchard<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was full of fruit all year;</span><br /> +<br /> +We pick'd it up in baskets,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or pluck'd it from the wall;</span><br /> +But the shaking of the pear-tree<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was the grandest treat of all.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Long, long the days we counted</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Until that day drew nigh;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then, how we watched the sun set,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And criticised the sky!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">If rain—"'Twill clear at midnight;"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">If dawn broke chill and gray,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">"O many a cloudy morning</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Turns out a lovely day."</span><br /> +<br /> +So off we started gaily,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heedless of jolt or jar;</span><br /> +Through town and lane, and hamlet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In old Llewellyn's car.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He's dead and gone—Llewellyn,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">These twenty years, I doubt:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">If I put him in this poem,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">He'll never find it out,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The patient, kind Llewellyn—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Whose broad face smiled all o'er,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">As he lifted out us children</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 6em;">At grandma's very door.</span><br /> +<br /> +And there stood Grandma's Betty,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With cheeks like apples red;</span><br /> +And Dash, the spaniel, waddled<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out of his cosy bed.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With silky ears down dropping,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And coat of chestnut pale;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He was so fat and lazy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">He scarce could wag his tail.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Poor Dash is dead, and buried</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Under the lilac-tree;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And Betty's old,—as, children,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">We all may one day be.</span><br /> +<br /> +I hope no child will vex us,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As we vexed Betty then,</span><br /> +With winding up the draw-well,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or hunting the old hen.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And teasing, teasing, teasing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Till afternoon wore round,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And shaken pears came tumbling</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">In showers upon the ground.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">O how we jumped and shouted!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">O how we plunged amid</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The long grass, where the treasures,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 6em;">Dropped down and deftly hid;</span><br /> +<br /> +Long, slender-shaped, red-russet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or yellow just like gold;</span><br /> +Ah! never pears have tasted<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like those sweet pears of old!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">We ate—I'd best not mention</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">How many: paused to fill</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Big basket after basket;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Working with right good-will;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Then hunted round the orchard</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">For half-ripe plums—in vain;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">So, back unto the pear-tree,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">To eat, and eat again.</span><br /> +<br /> +I'm not on my confession,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And therefore need not say</span><br /> +How tired, and cross, and sleepy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some were ere close of day;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For pleasure has its ending,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And eke its troubles too;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Which you'll find out, my children,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">As well as we could do.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">But yet this very minute,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">I seem to see it all—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The pear-tree's empty branches</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 6em;">The gray of evening-fall;</span><br /> +<br /> +The children's homeward silence,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The furnace fires that glowed,</span><br /> +Each mile or so, out streaming<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Across the lonely road;</span><br /> +<br /> +And high, high set in heaven,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One large bright, beauteous star,</span><br /> +That shone between the curtains<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of old Llewellyn's car.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />THE WONDERFUL APPLE-TREE.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h3> + +<div class='poem2'> +<span class="smcap">Come</span> here, my dear boys, and I'll tell you a fable,<br /> +Which you may believe as much as you're able;<br /> +It isn't all true, nor all false, I'll be bound—<br /> +Of the tree that bears apples all the year round.<br /> +<br /> +There was a Dean Tucker of Gloster city,<br /> +Who may have been wise, or worthy, or witty;<br /> +But I know nothing of him, the more's the pity,<br /> +Save that he was Dean Tucker of Gloster city.<br /> +<br /> +And walking one day with a musing air<br /> +In his Deanery garden, close by where<br /> +The great cathedral's west window's seen,—<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>"I'll plant an apple," said Tucker the Dean.<br /> +<br /> +The apple was planted, the apple grew,<br /> +A stout young tree, full of leaves not few;<br /> +The apple was grafted, the apple bore<br /> +Of goodly apples, one, two, three, four.<br /> +<br /> +The old Dean walked in his garden fair,<br /> +"I'm glad I planted that young tree there,<br /> +Though it was but a shoot, or some old tree's sucker;<br /> +I'll taste it to-morrow," said good Dean Tucker.<br /> +<br /> +But lo, in the night when (they say) trees talk,<br /> +And some of the liveliest get up and walk,<br /> +With fairies abroad for watch and warden—<br /> +There was such a commotion in the Dean's garden!<br /> +<br /> +"I will not be gathered," the apple-tree said,<br /> +"Was it for this I blossomed so red?<br /> +Hung out my fruit all the summer days,<br /> +Got so much sunshine, and pleasure and praise?"<br /> +<br /> +"Ah!" interrupted a solemn red plum,<br /> +"This is the end to which all of us come;<br /> +Last month I was laden with hundreds—but now"—<br /> +And he sighed the last little plum off from his bough.<br /> +<br /> +"Nay, friend, take it easy," the pear-tree replied<br /> +(A lady-like person against the wall-side).<br /> +"Man guards, nurtures, trains us from top down to root:<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>I think 'tis but fair we should give him our fruit."<br /> +<br /> +"No, I'll not be gathered," the apple resumed,<br /> +And shook his young branches, and fluttered and fumed;<br /> +"And I'll not drop neither, as some of you drop,<br /> +Over-ripe: I'm determined to keep my whole crop.<br /> +<br /> +"And I with"—O'er his branches just then <i>something</i> flew;<br /> +It seemed like moth, large and grayish of hue.<br /> +But it was a Fairy. Her voice soft did sound,<br /> +"Be the tree that bears apples all the year round."<br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class='poem2'> +The Dean to his apple-tree, came, full of hope,<br /> +But tough was the fruit-stalk as double-twist rope,<br /> +And when he had cut it with patience and pain,<br /> +He bit just one mouthful—and never again.<br /> +<br /> +"An apple so tasteless, so juiceless, so hard,<br /> +Is, sure, good for nought but to bowl in the yard;<br /> +The choir-boys may have it." But choir-boys soon found<br /> +It was worthless—the tree that bore all the year round.<br /> +<br /> +And Gloster lads climbing the Deanery wall<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>Were punished, as well might all young <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'theives'">thieves</ins> appal,<br /> +For, clutching the booty for which they did sin,<br /> +They bit at the apples—and left their teeth in!<br /> +<br /> +And thus all the year from October till May,<br /> +From May till October, the apples shone gay;<br /> +But 'twas just outside glitter, for no hand was found<br /> +To pluck at the fruit which hung all the year round.<br /> +<br /> +And so till they rotted, those queer apples hung,<br /> +The bare boughs and blossoms and ripe fruit among<br /> +And in Gloster city it still may be found—<br /> +The tree that bears apples all the year round.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> This tree, known among gardeners by the name of "Winter-hanger" or "Forbidden Fruit," was +planted by Dean Tucker in 1760. It, or an off shoot from it, still exists in the city of Gloucester.</p></div> +</div> + +<h3><br />THE JEALOUS BOY</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">What</span>, my little foolish Ned,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Think you mother's eyes are blind,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That her heart has grown unkind,</span><br /> +And she will not turn her head,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cannot see, for all her joy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her poor jealous little boy?</span><br /> +<br /> +What though sister be the pet—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Laughs, and leaps, and clings, and loves,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">With her eyes as soft as dove's—</span><br /> +Why should yours with tears be wet?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why such angry tears let fall?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mother's heart has room for all.</span><br /> +<br /> +Mother's heart is very wide,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And its doors all open stand:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lightest touch of tiniest hand</span><br /> +She will never put aside.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why her happiness destroy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Foolish, naughty, jealous boy?</span><br /> +<br /> +Come within the circle bright,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where we laugh, and dance, and sing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Full of love to everything;</span><br /> +As God loves us, day and night,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And <i>forgives</i> us. Come—with joy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mother too forgives her boy.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />THE STORY OF THE BIRKENHEAD</h3> + +<h4>TOLD TO TWO CHILDREN</h4> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">And</span> so you want <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'fairy a'">a fairy</ins> tale,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My little maidens twain?</span><br /> +Well, sit beside the waterfall,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Noisy with last night's rain;</span><br /> +<br /> +On couch of moss, with elfin spears<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bristling, all fierce to see,</span><br /> +When from the yet brown moor down drops<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lonely April bee.</span><br /> +<br /> +All the wide valley blushes green,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While, in far depths below,</span><br /> +Wharfe flashes out a great bright eye,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then hides his shining flow;—</span><br /> +<br /> +Wharfe, busy, restless, rapid Wharfe,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The glory of our dale;</span><br /> +O I could of the River Wharfe<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tell such a fairy tale!</span><br /> +<br /> +"The Boy of Egremond," you cry,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And all the 'bootless bene:'</span><br /> +We know that poem, every word,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we the Strid have seen."</span><br /> +<br /> +No, clever damsels: though the tale<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seems still to bear a part,</span><br /> +In every lave of Wharfe's bright wave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The broken mother's heart—</span><br /> +<br /> +Little you know of broken hearts,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Kitty, blithe and wise,</span><br /> +Grave Mary, with the woman soul<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dawning through childish eyes.</span><br /> +<br /> +And long, long distant may God keep<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The day when each shall know</span><br /> +The entrance to His kingdom through<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His baptism of woe!</span><br /> +<br /> +But yet 'tis good to hear of grief<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which He permits to be;</span><br /> +Even as in our green inland home<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We talk of wrecks at sea.</span><br /> +<br /> +So on this lovely day, when spring<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wakes soft o'er moor and dale,</span><br /> +I'll tell—not quite your wish—but yet<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A noble "fairy" tale.</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class='poem'> +'Twas six o'clock in the morning,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sea like crystal lay,</span><br /> +When the good troop-ship Birkenhead<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Set sail from Simon's Bay.</span><br /> +<br /> +The Cape of Good Hope on her right<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gloomed at her through the noon:</span><br /> +Brief tropic twilight fled, and night<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fell suddenly and soon.</span><br /> +<br /> +At eight o'clock in the evening<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dim grew the pleasant land;</span><br /> +O'er smoothest seas the southern heaven<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its starry arch out-spanned.</span><br /> +<br /> +The soldiers on the bulwarks leaned,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Smoked, chatted; and below</span><br /> +The soldiers' wives sang babes to sleep,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While on the ship sailed slow.</span><br /> +<br /> +Six hundred and thirty souls held she,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good, bad, old, young, rich, poor;</span><br /> +Six hundred and thirty living souls—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God knew them all.—Secure</span><br /> +<br /> +He counted them in His right hand,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That held the hungering seas;</span><br /> +And to four hundred came a voice—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The Master hath need of these."</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class='poem'> +On, onward, still the vessel went<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till, with a sudden shock,</span><br /> +Like one that's clutched by unseen Death,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She struck upon a rock.</span><br /> +<br /> +She filled. Not hours, not minutes left;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each second a life's gone:</span><br /> +Drowned in their berths, washed overboard,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lost, swimming, one by one;</span><br /> +<br /> +Till, o'er this chaos of despair<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rose, like celestial breath,</span><br /> +The law of order, discipline,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Obedience unto death.</span><br /> +<br /> +The soldiers mustered upon deck,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As mute as on parade;</span><br /> +"Women and children to the boats!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And not a man gainsayed.</span><br /> +<br /> +Without a murmur or a moan<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They stood, formed rank and file,</span><br /> +Between the dreadful crystal seas<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the sky's dreadful smile.</span><br /> +<br /> +In face of death they did their work<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As they in life would do,</span><br /> +Embarking at a quiet quay—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A quiet, silent crew.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Now each man for himself. To the boats!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arose a passing cry.</span><br /> +The soldier-captain answered, "Swamp<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The women and babes?—No, die!"</span><br /> +<br /> +And so they died. Each in his place,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Obedient to command,</span><br /> +They went down with the sinking ship,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went down in sight of land.</span><br /> +<br /> +The great sea oped her mouth, and closed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O'er them. Awhile they trod</span><br /> +The valley of the shadow of death,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then were safe with God.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class='poem'> +My little girlies—What! your tears<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are dropping on the grass,</span><br /> +Over my more than "fairy" tale,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A tale that "really was!"</span><br /> +<br /> +Nay, dry them. If we could but see<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The joy in angels' eyes</span><br /> +O'er good lives, or heroic deaths<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of pure self-sacrifice,—</span><br /> +<br /> +We should not weep o'er these that sleep—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their short, sharp struggle o'er—</span><br /> +Under the rolling waves that break<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the Afric shore.</span><br /> +<br /> +God works not as man works, nor sees<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As man sees: though we mark</span><br /> +Ofttimes the moving of His hands<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beneath the eternal Dark.</span><br /> +<br /> +But yet we know that all is well<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That He, who loved all these,</span><br /> +Loves children laughing on the moor,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Birds singing in the trees;</span><br /> +<br /> +That He who made both life and death,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He knoweth which is best:</span><br /> +We live to Him, we die to Him,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And leave Him all the rest.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />BIRDS IN THE SNOW</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Birds in the Snow"> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;">CHILD</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">I wish</span> I were a little bird</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the sun shines</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>And the wind whispers low,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through the tall pines,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>I'd rock in the elm tops,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rifle the pear-tree,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hide in the cherry boughs,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><span style="margin-left: 1em;">O such a rare tree!</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;">I wish I were a little bird;</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">All summer long</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;">I'd fly so merrily</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Sing such a song!</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Song that should never cease</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">While daylight lasted,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wings that should never tire</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Howe'er they hasted.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><br />MOTHER</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">But if you were a little bird—</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">My baby-blossom.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">Nestling so cosily</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">In mother's bosom,—</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">A bird, as we see them now,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">When the snows harden,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">And the wind's blighting breath</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">Howls round the garden:</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br />What would you do, poor bird,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">In winter drear?</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>No nest to creep into,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">No mother near:</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hungry and desolate,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Weary and woeful,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>All the earth bound with frost,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">All the sky snow-full?</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><br />CHILD (<i>thoughtfully</i>).</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;">That would be sad, and yet</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hear what I'd do—</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;">Mother, in winter time</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6em;">I'd come to you!</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;">If you can like the birds</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6em;">Spite of their thieving,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;">Give them your trees to build,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6em;">Garden to live in,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><span style="margin-left: 10em;">I think if I were a bird</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 11em;">When winter comes</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 10em;">I'd trust you, mother dear,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 11em;">For a few crumbs,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Whether I sang or not,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Were lark, thrush, or starling.—</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><span style="margin-left: 13em;">MOTHER (<i>aside</i>).</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 11em;">Then—Father—I trust <i>Thee</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 12em;">With this my darling.</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />THE LITTLE COMFORTER</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +"<span class="smcap">What</span> is wrong with my big brother?"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Says the child;</span><br /> +For they two had got no mother<br /> +And she loved him like no other:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">If he smiled,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">All the world seemed bright and gay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">To this happy little May.</span><br /> +<br /> +If to her he sharply spoke,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">This big brother—</span><br /> +Then her tender heart nigh broke;<br /> +But the cruel pain that woke,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">She would smother—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">As a little woman can;—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Was he not almost a man?</span><br /> +<br /> +But when trouble or disgrace<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Smote the boy,</span><br /> +She would lift her gentle face—<br /> +Surely 'twas her own right place.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">To bring joy?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">For she loved him—loved him so!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Whether he was good or no</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">May be he will never feel</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Half her love;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Wound her, and forget to heal:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Idle words are sharp as steel:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">But above,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">I know what the angels say</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Of this silent little May.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />DON'T BE AFRAID.</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Don't</span> be afraid of the dark,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My daughter, dear as my soul!</span><br /> +You see but a part of the gloomy world,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I—I have seen the whole,</span><br /> +And I know each step of the fearsome way,<br /> +Till the shadows brighten to open day.<br /> +<br /> +Don't be afraid of pain,<br /> +My tender little child:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When its smart is worst there comes strength to bear,</span><br /> +And it seems as if angels smiled,—<br /> +As I smile, dear, when I hurt you now.<br /> +In binding up that wound on your brow.<br /> +<br /> +Don't be afraid of grief,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twill come—as night follows day,</span><br /> +But the bleakest sky has tiny rifts<br /> +When the stars shine through—as to say<br /> +Wait, wait a little—till night is o'er<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>And beautiful day come back once more.<br /> +<br /> +O child, be afraid of sin,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But have no other fear,</span><br /> +For God's in the dark, as well as the light;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And while we can feel Him near,</span><br /> +His hand that He gives, His love that He gave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lead safely, even to the dark of the grave.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />GIRL AND BOY</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Alfred</span> is gentle as a girl,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But Judith longs to be a boy!</span><br /> +Would cut off every pretty curl<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With eager joy!</span><br /> +<br /> +Hates to be called "my dear"—or kissed:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For dollies does not care one fig:</span><br /> +Goes, sticking hands up to the wrist<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In jackets big.</span><br /> +<br /> +Would like to do whate'er boy can;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Play cricket—even to go school:</span><br /> +It is so grand to be a man!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A girl's a fool!</span><br /> +<br /> +But Alfred smiles superior love<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">On all these innocent vagaries.</span><br /> +He'd hate a goose! but yet a dove<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah, much more rare is!</span><br /> +<br /> +She's anything but dove, good sooth!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But she's his dear and only sister:</span><br /> +And, had she been a boy, in truth<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How he'd have missed her.</span><br /> +<br /> +So, gradually her folly dies,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she'll consent to be just human,</span><br /> +When there shines out of girlish eyes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The real Woman.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />AGNES AT PRAYER</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +"<span class="smcap">Our</span> Father which art in heaven,"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Little Agnes prays,</span><br /> +Though her kneeling is but show,<br /> +Though she is too young to know<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All, or half she says.</span><br /> +God will hear her, Agnes mild,<br /> +God will love the innocent child.<br /> +<br /> +"Our Father which art in heaven."<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She has a father here,</span><br /> +Does she think of his kind eyes,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>Tones that ne'er in anger rise—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Yes, dear," or "No, dear."</span><br /> +They will haunt her whole life long<br /> +Like a sweet pathetic song.<br /> +<br /> +"Our Father which art in heaven,"<br /> +Through thy peaceful prayer,<br /> +Think of the known father's face,<br /> +Of his bosom, happy place;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Safely sheltered there;</span><br /> +And so blessed—long may He bless!<br /> +Think too of the fatherless.<br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />GOING TO WORK</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Come</span> along for the work is ready—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rough it may be, rough, tough and hard—</span><br /> +But—fourteen years old—stout, strong and steady,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life's game's beginning, lad!—play your card—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Come along.</span><br /> +<br /> +Mother stands at the door-step crying<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well but she has a brave heart too:</span><br /> +She'll try to be glad—there's nought like trying,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She's proud of having a son like you.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Come along.</span><br /> +<br /> +Young as she is, her hair is whitening,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She has ploughed thro' years of sorrow deep,</span><br /> +She looks at her boy, and her eyes are brightening,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shame if ever you make them weep!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Come along.</span><br /> +<br /> +Bravo! See how the brown cheek flushes!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ready to work as hard as you can?</span><br /> +I have always faith in a boy that blushes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">None will blush for him, when he's a man.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Come along.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />THREE COMPANIONS</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">We</span> go on our way together,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Baby, and dog, and I;</span><br /> +Three merry companions,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Neath any sort of sky;</span><br /> +Blue as her pretty eyes are,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or gray, like his dear old tail;</span><br /> +Be it windy, or cloudy, or stormy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our courage does never fail.</span><br /> +<br /> +Sometimes the snow lies thickly,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under the hedge-row bleak;</span><br /> +Then baby cries "Pretty, pretty,"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">The only word she can speak.</span><br /> +Sometimes two rivers of water<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Run down the muddy lane;</span><br /> +Then dog leaps backwards and forwards<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Barking with might and <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'ma n'">main</ins>.</span><br /> +<br /> +Baby's a little lady,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dog is a gentleman brave:</span><br /> +If he had two legs as you have<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'd kneel to her like a slave;</span><br /> +As it is he loves and protects her,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As dog and gentleman can;</span><br /> +I'd rather be a kind doggie<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I think, than a brute of a man.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />THE MOTHERLESS CHILD</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">She</span> was going home down the lonely street,<br /> +A widow-woman with weary feet<br /> +And weary eyes that seldom smiled:<br /> +She had neither mother, sister, nor child.<br /> +She earned her bread with a patient heart,<br /> +And ate it quietly and apart,<br /> +In her silent home from day to day,<br /> +No one to say her "ay," or "nay."<br /> +<br /> +She was going home without care to haste;<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>What should she haste for? On she paced<br /> +Through the snowy night so bleak and wild,<br /> +When she thought she heard the cry of a child,<br /> +A feeble cry, not of hunger or pain,<br /> +But just of sorrow. It came again.<br /> +She stopped—she listened—she almost smiled—<br /> +"That sounds like a wail of a motherless child."<br /> +<br /> +A house stood open—no soul was there—<br /> +Her dull, tired feet grew light on the stair;<br /> +She mounted—entered. One bed on the floor,<br /> +And Something in it: and close by the door,<br /> +Watching the stark form, stretched out still,<br /> +Ignorant knowing not good nor ill,<br /> +But only a want and a misery wild,<br /> +Crouched the dead mother's motherless child.<br /> +<br /> +What next? Come say what would you have done<br /> +Dear children playing about in the sun,<br /> +Or sitting by pleasant fireside warm,<br /> +Hearing outside the howling storm?<br /> +The widow went in and she shut the door,<br /> +She stayed by the dead an hour or more—<br /> +And when she went home through the night so wild,<br /> +She had in her arms a sleeping child.<br /> +<br /> +Now she is old and feeble and dull,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>But her empty heart is happy and full<br /> +If her crust be hard and her cottage poor<br /> +There's a young foot tripping across the floor,<br /> +Young hands to help her that never tire,<br /> +And a young voice singing beside the fire;<br /> +And her tired eyes look as if they smiled,—<br /> +Childless mother and motherless child.<br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />THE WREN'S NEST</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">I took</span> the wren's nest;—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Heaven forgive me!</span><br /> +Its merry architects so small<br /> +Had scarcely finished their wee hall,<br /> +That empty still and neat and fair<br /> +Hung idly in the summer air.<br /> +The mossy walls, the dainty door,<br /> +Where Love should enter and explore,<br /> +And Love sit caroling outside,<br /> +And Love within chirp multiplied;—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I took the wren's nest;—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Heaven forgive me!</span><br /> +<br /> +How many hours of happy pains<br /> +Through early frosts and April rains,<br /> +How many songs at eve and morn<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>O'er springing grass and greening corn,<br /> +Before the pretty house was made!<br /> +One little minute, only one,<br /> +And she'll fly back, and find it—gone!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I took the wren's nest;—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bird, forgive me!</span><br /> +<br /> +Thou and thy mate, sans let, sans fear,<br /> +Ye have before you <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'al'">all</ins> the year,<br /> +And every wood holds nooks for you,<br /> +In which to sing and <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'bui d'">build</ins> and woo<br /> +One piteous cry of birdish pain—<br /> +And ye'll begin your life again,<br /> +Forgetting quite the lost, lost home<br /> +In many a busy home to come—<br /> +But I?—Your wee house keep I must<br /> +Until it crumble into <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'du t'">dust</ins>.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I took the wren's nest:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">God forgive me!</span><br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />A CHILD'S <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'SMIL'">SMILE</ins></h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">A child's</span> smile—nothing more;<br /> +Quiet and soft and grave, and seldom seen,<br /> +Like summer lightning o'er,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>Leaving the little face again serene.<br /> +<br /> +I think, boy well-beloved,<br /> +Thine angel, who did grieve to see how far<br /> +Thy childhood is removed<br /> +From sports that dear to other children are,<br /> +<br /> +On this pale cheek has thrown<br /> +The brightness of his countenance, and made<br /> +A beauty like his own—<br /> +That, while we see it, we are half afraid,<br /> +<br /> +And marvel, will it stay?<br /> +Or, long ere manhood, will that angel fair,<br /> +Departing some sad day,<br /> +Steal the child-smile and leave the shadow care?<br /> +<br /> +Nay, fear not. As is given<br /> +Unto this child the father watching o'er,<br /> +His angel up in heaven<br /> +Beholds Our Father's face for evermore.<br /> +<br /> +And he will help him bear<br /> +His burthen, as his father helps him now;<br /> +So he may come to wear<br /> +That happy child-smile on an old man's brow.<br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">A little</span> bird flew my window by,<br /> +'Twixt the level street and the level sky,<br /> +The level rows of houses tall,<br /> +The long low sun on the level wall<br /> +And all that the little bird did say<br /> +Was, "Over the hills and far away."<br /> +<br /> +A little bird sang behind my chair,<br /> +From the level line of corn-fields fair,<br /> +The smooth green <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'hedgegrow's'">hedgerow's</ins> level bound<br /> +Not a furlong off—the horizon's bound,<br /> +And the level lawn where the sun all day<br /> +Burns:—"Over the hills and far away."<br /> +<br /> +A little bird sings above my bed,<br /> +And I know if I could but lift my head<br /> +I would see the sun set, round and grand,<br /> +Upon level sea and level sand,<br /> +While beyond the misty distance gray<br /> +Is "Over the hills and far away."<br /> +<br /> +I think that a little bird will sing<br /> +Over a grassy mound, next spring,<br /> +Where something that once was <i>me</i>, ye'll leave<br /> +In the level sunshine, morn and eve:<br /> +But I shall be gone, past night, past day,<br /> +Over the hills and far away.<br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />THE TWO RAINDROPS</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Said</span> a drop to a drop, "Just look at me!<br /> +I'm the finest rain-drop you ever did see:<br /> +I have lived ten seconds at least on my pane;<br /> +Swelling and filling and swelling again.<br /> +<br /> +"All the little rain-drops unto me run,<br /> +I watch them and catch them and suck them up each one:<br /> +All the pretty children stand and at me stare;<br /> +Pointing with their fingers—'That's the biggest drop there.'"<br /> +<br /> +"Yet you are but a drop," the small drop replied;<br /> +"I don't myself see much cause for pride:<br /> +The bigger you swell up,—we know well, my friend,—<br /> +The faster you run down the sooner you'll end.<br /> +<br /> +"For me, I'm contented outside on my ledge,<br /> +Hearing the patter of rain in the hedge;<br /> +Looking at the firelight and the children fair,—<br /> +Whether they look at me, I'm sure I don't care."<br /> +<br /> +"Sir," cried the first drop, "your talk is but dull;<br /> +I can't wait to listen, for I'm almost full;<br /> +You'll run a race with me?—No?—Then 'tis plain<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>I am the largest drop in the whole pane."<br /> +<br /> +Off ran the big drop, at first rather slow:<br /> +Then faster and faster, as drops will, you know:<br /> +Raced down the window-pane, like hundreds before,<br /> +Just reached the window-sill—one splash—and was o'er.<br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />THE YEAR'S END</h3> + +<div class='poem2'> +<span class="smcap">So</span> grows the rising year, and so declines<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By months, weeks, days, unto its peaceful end</span><br /> +Even as by slow and ever-varying signs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through childhood, youth, our solemn steps we bend</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up to the crown of life, and thence descend.</span><br /> +<br /> +Great Father, who of every one takest care,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From him on whom full ninety years are piled</span><br /> +To the young babe, just taught to lisp a prayer<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">About the "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who children loves, being once himself a child,—</span><br /> +<br /> +O make us day by day like Him to grow;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More pure and good, more dutiful and meek;</span><br /> +Because He loves those who obey Him so;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because His love is the best thing to seek,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because without His love, all loves are weak,—</span><br /> +<br /> +All earthly joys are miserable and poor,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">All earthly goodness quickly droops and dies,</span><br /> +Like rootless flowers you plant in gardens—sure<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That they will flourish—till in mid-day skies</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sun burns, and they fade before your eyes.</span><br /> +<br /> +O God, who art alone the life and light<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of this strange world to which as babes we come,</span><br /> +Keep Thou us always children in Thy sight:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Guide us from year to year, thro' shine and gloom</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And at our year's end, Father, take us home.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />RUNNING AFTER THE RAINBOW</h3> + +<div class='poem2'> +"<span class="smcap">Why</span> thus aside your playthings throw,<br /> +Over the wet lawn hurrying so?<br /> +Where are you going, I want to know?"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I'm running after the rainbow."</span><br /> +<br /> +"Little boy, with your bright brown eyes<br /> +Full of an innocent surprise,<br /> +Stop a minute, my Arthur wise,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What do you want with the rainbow?"</span><br /> +<br /> +Arthur paused in his headlong race,<br /> +Turned to his mother his hot, young face,<br /> +"Mother, I want to reach the place<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">At either end of the rainbow.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Nurse says, wherever it meets the ground.<br /> +Such beautiful things may oft be found<br /> +Buried below, or scattered round,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If one can but catch the rainbow.</span><br /> +<br /> +"O please don't hinder me, mother dear,<br /> +It will all be gone while I stay here;"<br /> +So with many a hope and not one fear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The child ran after the rainbow.</span><br /> +<br /> +Over the damp grass, ankle deep,<br /> +Clambering up the hilly steep,<br /> +And the wood where the birds were going to sleep,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But he couldn't catch the rainbow.</span><br /> +<br /> +And when he came out at the wood's far side,<br /> +The sun was setting in golden pride,<br /> +There were plenty of clouds all rainbow dyed,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But not a sign of the rainbow.</span><br /> +<br /> +Said Arthur, sobbing, as home he went,<br /> +"I wish I had thought what mother meant;<br /> +I wish I had only been content,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And not ran after the rainbow."</span><br /> +<br /> +And as he came sadly down the hill,<br /> +Stood mother scolding—but smiling still,<br /> +And hugged him up close, as mothers will:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So he quite forgot the rainbow.</span><br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />DICK AND I</h3> + +<div class='poem2'> +<span class="smcap">We're</span> going to a party, my brother Dick and I:<br /> +The best, grandest party we ever did try:<br /> +And I'm very happy—but Dick is so shy!<br /> +<br /> +I've got a white ball-dress, and flowers in my hair,<br /> +And a scarf, with a brooch too, mamma let me wear:<br /> +Silk stockings, and shoes with high heels, I declare!<br /> +<br /> +There is to be music—a real soldier's band:<br /> +And <i>I</i> mean to waltz, and eat ice, and be fanned,<br /> +Like a grown-up young lady, the first in the land.<br /> +<br /> +But Dick is so stupid, so silent and shy:<br /> +Has never learnt dancing, so says he won't try—<br /> +Yet Dick is both older and wiser than I.<br /> +<br /> +And I'm fond of my brother—this darling old Dick:<br /> +I'll hunt him in corners wherever he stick,<br /> +He's bad at a party—but at school he's a brick!<br /> +<br /> +So good at his Latin, at cricket, football,<br /> +Whatever he tries at. And then he's so tall!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>Yet at play with the children he's best of us all.<br /> +<br /> +And his going to the party is just to please <i>me</i>,<br /> +Poor Dick! so good-natured. How dull he will be!<br /> +But he says I shall dance "like a wave o' the sea."<br /> +<br /> +That's Shakespeare, his Shakespeare, he worships him so.<br /> +Our Dick he writes poems, though none will he show;<br /> +I found out his secret, but I won't tell: no, no.<br /> +<br /> +And when he's a great man, a poet you see,<br /> +O dear! what a proud little sister I'll be;<br /> +Hark! there comes the carriage. We're off, Dick and me.<br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />GRANDPAPA</h3> + +<div class='poem2'> +<span class="smcap">Grandpapa</span> lives at the end of the lane,<br /> +His cottage is small and its furniture plain;<br /> +No pony to ride on, no equipage grand,—<br /> +A garden, and just half an acre of land;<br /> +No dainties to dine off, and very few toys,—<br /> +Yet is grandpapa's house the delight of the boys.<br /> +<br /> +Grandpapa once lived in one little room,<br /> +Grandpapa worked all day long at his loom:<br /> +He speaks with queer accent, does dear grandpapa,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>And not half so well as papa and mamma.<br /> +The girls think his clothes are a little rough,<br /> +But the boys all declare they can't love him enough.<br /> +<br /> +A man of the people in manners and mind,<br /> +Yet so honest, so tender, so clever, so kind:<br /> +Makes the best of his lot still, where'er it be cast.<br /> +A sturdy old Englishman, game to the last.<br /> +Though simple and humble and unknown to fame,<br /> +It's good luck to the boys to bear grandpapa's name!<br /> +</div> + + +<h3><br />MONSIEUR ET MADEMOISELLE.</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Deux</span> petits enfants Francais,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Monsieur et Mademoiselle.</span><br /> +Of what can they be talking, child?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Indeed I cannot tell.</span><br /> +But of this I am very certain,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You would find naught to blame</span><br /> +In that sweet French politeness—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I wish we had the same.</span><br /> +<br /> +Monsieur has got a melon,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And scoops it with his knife,</span><br /> +While Mademoiselle sits watching him:<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">No rudeness here—no strife:</span><br /> +Though could you listen only,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They're chattering like two pies—</span><br /> +French magpies, understand me—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So merry and so wise.</span><br /> +<br /> +Their floor is bare of carpet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their curtains are so thin,</span><br /> +They dine on meagre <i>potage</i>, and<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Put many an onion in!</span><br /> +Her snow-white caps she irons:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He blacks his shoes, he can;</span><br /> +Yet she's a little lady<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he's a gentleman.</span><br /> +<br /> +O busy, happy children!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That light French heart of yours,</span><br /> +Would it might sometimes enter at<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our solemn English doors!</span><br /> +Would that we worked as gaily,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And played, yes, played as well,</span><br /> +And lived our lives as simply<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Monsieur et Mademoiselle.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/i031.png" width="150" height="85" alt="decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />YOUNG DANDELION</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Young</span> Dandelion<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On a hedge-side,</span><br /> +Said young Dandelion,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Who'll be my bride?</span><br /> +<br /> +"I'm a bold fellow<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As ever was seen,</span><br /> +With my shield of yellow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the grass green.</span><br /> +<br /> +"You may uproot me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From field and from lane,</span><br /> +Trample me, cut me,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I spring up again.</span><br /> +<br /> +"I never flinch, Sir,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wherever I dwell;</span><br /> +Give me an inch, Sir.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll soon take an ell.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Drive me from garden<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In anger and pride,</span><br /> +I'll thrive and harden<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the road-side.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Not a bit fearful,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Showing my face,</span><br /> +Always so cheerful<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In every place."</span><br /> +<br /> +Said young Dandelion,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a sweet air,</span><br /> +"I have my eye on<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Daisy fair.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Though we may tarry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till past the cold,</span><br /> +Her I will marry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ere I grow old.</span><br /> +<br /> +"I will protect her<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From all kinds of harm,</span><br /> +Feed her with nectar,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shelter her warm.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Whate'er the weather,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let it go by;</span><br /> +We'll hold together,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Daisy and I.</span><br /> +<br /> +"I'll ne'er give in,—no!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nothing I fear:</span><br /> +All that I win, O!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll keep for my dear."</span><br /> +<br /> +Said young Dandelion<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On his hedge-side,</span><br /> +"Who'll me rely on?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who'll be my bride?"</span><br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />A SEPTEMBER ROBIN</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">My</span> eyes are full, my silent heart is stirred,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Amid these days so bright</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of ceaseless warmth and light;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Summer that will not die,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Autumn, without one sigh</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O'er sweet hours passing by—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Cometh that tender note</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Out of thy tiny throat,</span><br /> +Like grief, or love, insisting to be heard,<br /> +O little plaintive bird!<br /> +<br /> +No need of word<br /> +Well know I all your tale—forgotten bird!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Soon you and I together</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Must face the winter weather,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Remembering how we sung</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Our primrose fields among,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In days when life was young;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Now, all is growing old,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the warm earth's a-cold,</span><br /> +Still, with brave heart we'll sing on, little bird,<br /> +Sing only. Not one word.<br /> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> +<p>Text uses both tablecloth and table-cloth.</p> +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. 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