Part 7

PUNKYDOODLE was at one end of the see-saw, and Jollapin at the other. (Those are not the boys’ real names, but they will do just as well, and they look better on paper than Joe, and,—oh! well, no matter!) It was a very high see-saw, and they meant to have a fine time on it.

“I am an eagle!” cried Jollapin, as his end went up, up, till his breath was almost gone, and he had to hold on with all his might to keep from slipping. “I—am—an eagle, I say. Ho! see me fly up among the clouds! I am sailing—Oh, I say! don’t shake her like that, Punk, or you’ll have me off!”

“Well, you’ve been up long enough!” cried Punkydoodle. “It’s my turn now. Look at me! I am a flying dragon! Observe my fiery eyes, and my long wiggling tail! Hoish! I am going to descend on the fields and dwellings of men, and lay them waste; and I’ll never stop till they give me the king’s daughter for my bride. I may eat her up, but I am not sure. Depends upon how pretty she is! Hoish! I descend upon the—” Here he descended with such swiftness that speech became impossible, and Jollapin soared aloft again.

“I am a balloon this time!” he cried.

“You look like one!” said Punkydoodle, who had not relished his sudden descent on the fields and dwellings of men.

“I’m not an old Skinny, anyhow!” retorted Jollapin. “I am a splendid balloon, and my name is the Air King. Proudly I ascend, rising triumphant through the ambient air.” (Jollapin had been reading the papers, and his speech was inflated, like the balloon he represented.) “I pass through the clouds; I pierce them; I rise above them. The earth lies beneath me like a—like a—”

“Like a pancake!” suggested Punkydoodle, who had little imagination.

“I wish you wouldn’t interrupt me, Punk! But what do I see? Yes, I know it’s your turn now, but just wait a minute! What do I see? Another majestic air-ship, sailing gloriously toward me! That’s you, Punky! Now we’ll see-saw together, tiddledies up and down, and play the balloons are meeting. Ha! we meet! we salute in mid-air. I wave my gilded banner—”

Here one balloon lost his balance and tumbled off, and the other tumbled on top of him, and there they both lay in a heap on the lawn.

“Anybody killed?” asked the elder brother, looking up from his hoeing.

“I—guess—not!” said Punkydoodle, rising slowly and feeling himself all over. “Jollapin is all right, ’cause he has plenty of fat to fall on, but I got a pretty good thump, I can tell you.”

“Too bad!” said the elder brother. “You need a change, dear boys; suppose you go and weed the pansy-bed, to take your minds off your injuries.”

I AM the doll that Nancy broke! Hadn’t been hers a week. Punch me behind, and I sweetly spoke; Rosy and fair was my cheek. Now my head is rolled in a corner far, My body lies here in another; And if this is what human children are, I never will live with another.

I am the book that Nancy read For twenty minutes together. Now I am standing here on my head, While she’s gone to look at the weather. My leaves are crushed in the cruellest way, There’s jam on my opening page, And I would not live with Miss Nancy Gay, Though I should not be read for an age.

I am the frock that Nancy wore Last night at her birthday feast. I am the frock that Nancy tore In seventeen places, at least. My buttons are scattering far and near, My trimming is torn to rags; And if I were Miss Nancy’s mother dear, I’d dress her in calico bags!

We are the words that Nancy said When these things were called to her view. All of us ought to be painted red, And some of us are not true. We splutter and mutter and snarl and snap, We smoulder and smoke and blaze. And if she’d not meet with some sad mishap, Miss Nancy must mend her ways.

AMY’S VALENTINE.

“JOHN,” said little Amy, “did you ever send a valentine to anybody?”

John, the gardener, looked rather sheepish, and dug his spade into the geranium bed. “Well, miss,” he said, “I _have_ done such things when I were a lad. Most lads do, I suppose, miss.”

Oh, that sly old John! He knew perfectly well that he had a valentine in his pocket at that moment, a great crimson heart, in a lace-trimmed envelope, directed to Susan, the pretty housemaid. But there was no need of saying anything about that to little miss, he thought.

“If you were not so _very_ old, John,” continued Amy, looking seriously at him, “I should ask you to send me one, because my Papa is away, and I have no brothers, and I don’t know any lads, as you call them. But I suppose you are altogether _too_ old, aren’t you, John?”

John straightened his broad shoulders and looked down rather comically at the tiny mite at his feet. “Why, Miss Amy,” he said, “whatever does make you think I be so _very_ old? Your Papa is a good bit older than I be, miss.”

“My Papa!” cried Amy, opening her eyes very wide. “Why, John! you told me yourself that you were a hundred years old. And I _know_ my Papa isn’t _nearly_ so old as that!”

The gardener laughed. “More shame to me, miss,” he said, “for telling you what wasn’t true. Sure it’s only in fun I was, Miss Amy, dear, for I’m not forty years old yet, let alone a hundred. But I hear Mary calling you to your dinner; so run up to the house now, missy, and don’t think too much of what old John says to you.”

Away ran little Amy, and John, left alone with his geraniums, indulged in a quiet but hearty laugh.

“To think of that!” he said to himself. “A hundred years old! Sure I must take care what I say to that young one. But the pretty lass shall have her valentine, that she shall, and as pretty a one as I can make!” and John dug his spade into the ground with right good-will.

(It occurs to me that you children who live in the North may say here, “What was he doing to the geranium-bed in February?” but when I tell you that little Amy lives in Virginia, you will not think it so strange.)

Saint Valentine’s Day was bright and sunny, and Amy was up early, flying about the house like a bird, and running every five minutes to the front door “’Cause there _might_ be a valentine, Mamma!”

Presently she spied the postman coming up the gravel walk, and out she danced to meet him. Oh! such a pile of letters as he took out of his leather bag.

“Miss Amy Russell?” said the postman.

“Oh!” cried Amy, “she’s me! I mean me’s her! I mean—oh! oh! one, two, three, four, five! Oh, thank you, Mr. Postman! You’re the best postman in the whole world!” And in she danced again, to show her treasures to Mamma. Gold lace, silver arrows, flaming hearts! oh, how beautiful they were! But suddenly—ting! tingle! _ding!_ a tremendous peal at the front door-bell.

Down went the valentines in Mamma’s lap, and off flew the excited child again. But this time, when she opened the door, no sound escaped her lips. Her feelings were too deep for utterance.

There on the doorstep lay a valentine, but _such_ a valentine! A large flat basket entirely filled with white carnations, with a border of scarlet geraniums, and in the middle a huge heart of deep red carnations, with the words “My Valentine” written under it in violets.

Amy sat down on the doorstep, with clasped hands and wide-open eyes and mouth. She rocked herself backwards and forwards, uttering little inarticulate shrieks of delight.

And John the gardener, peeping round the corner of the house, chuckled silently, and squeezed the hand of Susan, the pretty housemaid, who happened, curiously enough, to be standing very near him.

“Humph!” said John the gardener, “I haven’t forgotten how to make valentines, if I _be_ a hundred years old!”

ONCE UPON A TIME.

ONCE upon a time there was a little girl, just like you, who couldn’t count two. And she had a dreadful time about it! She did not know she had two feet, so she sometimes forgot to put on both her shoes; she did not know she had two eyes, so she would sometimes go to sleep with one eye, and stay awake with the other; she did not know she had two ears, so she would sometimes hear half of what Mamma said, and not hear the other.

One day Mamma called to her and said, “Pet, I want you to take this syrup and put it in my closet!”

Now Pet was only listening with one ear, and so she only heard the first half of what Mamma said: “I want you to take this syrup.” That was what she heard.

She liked the syrup very much, for she had ten drops in a teaspoon whenever she had a sore throat, and she had always wished Mamma would give her more.

And now she was just to “take it.” That must mean to take the whole bottle, if she liked. She put the bottle to her lips and took a good long draught. It was more than half-empty when she stopped to take breath, and then,—the syrup did not seem to taste good any longer. She put the bottle down.

Oh—dear—me! In about ten minutes Pet was the very sickest little girl you ever saw in your life. Mamma put her to bed, and sent for the doctor, and she had to take four different kinds of medicine before she got well, not one of which tasted good at all.

So now, you see, it is a very good plan for little wee girls to learn to count two.

THE PATHETIC BALLAD OF CLARINTHIA JANE LOUISA.

(_To be sung to the tune of “The Monkey married the Baboon’s Sister.”_)

THIS is Clarinthia Jane Louisa, Holding her brother Ebenezer: Here he sits on the post to please her,— Happy little two!

Dog came by with a growl and a grumble, Made Clarinthia start and stumble; Poor Ebenezer got a tumble, Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!

A DAY IN THE COUNTRY.

WE’RE spending the day, In the pleasantest way, With Uncle Eliphalet Brown: We may run at our ease, And do just what we please, And we never can do that in town.

For “Quack!” says the duck, And the hen says “Cluck!” And the chickens say, “Peepity-wee!” And John milks the cow, Though he doesn’t know how, And we’re happy as happy can be.

GOOSEY LUCY.

IT chanced one day that Lucy came into the kitchen just as Fido, her Aunt Mary’s little dog, was eating his dinner.

He had a good dinner, and he was making a great fuss over it, growling with pleasure, shaking his ears and wagging his tail.

His tail was a very funny one, with a little black bunch at the end of it, and it wiggled and waggled this way and that way.

“Fido,” said Lucy, “I don’t think you ought to wag your tail when you are eating. Mamma says we must sit very still at the table. To be sure, you are not sitting, and you are not at the table, but, all the same, I think you had better not wag your tail.”

Fido paid no attention to these sensible remarks, but continued briskly to wag the offending tail.

“Do you hear me Fido?” said Lucy. “I say, _don’t wag_ it!”

Fido gave a short bark of protest, but took no further notice.

“Then I must hold it for you!” Lucy continued, severely. “Mamma held my hands once when I would not stop cutting holes in my pinafore; but I was young then, and I thought the spots ought to be taken out. But you are not young, Fido, and I wonder at you, that I do!”

Then Lucy took hold of the tail, and tried to hold it; but Fido danced about, and pulled it away, and then wagged it all the harder, thinking she meant to play with him.

“Indeed!” said Lucy, “I am not playing, Master Fido. Now you shall see!”

So she got a piece of stout twine, and tied Fido’s tail to the leg of a chair.

“There!” she said, “now finish your dinner, like a good little dog, and don’t give me any more trouble.”

But Fido would not eat his dinner with his tail tied up. He threw back his head, and gave a piteous little howl. Lucy sat down on a stool beside him, and folding her hands, as she had seen her mother do, prepared to give the naughty pet “a good talking to,” as nurse used to say.

At that moment, however, her mother’s voice was heard, calling “Lucy! Lucy! Where are you?”

“Here, Mamma!” cried Lucy. “I am coming! I meant to pick them up before dinner, anyhow! yes I did!” And she flew up stairs, for she knew quite well that she had set out all her doll’s dishes, tea-set and dinner-set and kitchen things, on the nursery floor, and left them there.

And now nurse had come in with baby in her arms, and had walked right over the pretty French dinner-set, and there was very little of it left to tell the tale.

Dear! dear! it was not at all nice to pick up the pieces, even if nurse had not been scolding all the time, and Mamma standing by with that grave look, waiting to see that it was properly done.

But how about Fido? Oh, Lucy had quite forgotten about Fido. But Fido had not forgotten himself, and a very hard time the poor little fellow was having.

He ran round the chair several times, till he brought himself up close against it; then he tried to unwind himself again, but only became more and more entangled. He pushed the hateful chair backwards till it struck a little table on which was a tray full of dishes. Over went the table, down went the tray, crash went the dishes!

“Yow! yow! yo-o-o-_ow_!” howled Fido.

“Oh! oh! oh!” shrieked Bridget, the cook, who came in at that moment; and then—whack! whack! whack! went the broomstick over the poor doggie’s back.

The noise was so great that Mamma came flying down, and nurse and Lucy, too, with the broken soup tureen in her hand.

“Oh, don’t beat him!” cried Lucy, “don’t beat him, Bridget! It was my fault, for I tied him to the chair, and then forgot about him.”

“And why, for the pity’s sake, miss, did ye tie the baste to the chair?” said Bridget, still angry. “Look at every dish I have in the kitchen all broken in smithereens!”

“He _would_ wag his tail while he ate his dinner,” faltered Lucy, “and I wanted to teach him better manners; and so—and so—” But here poor Goosey Lucy broke down completely, and sat down among the shattered dishes, and hugged Fido and wept over him.

And Fido, who had the sweetest temper in the world, wagged the poor abused tail (which had been quickly released by nurse), and forgave her at once.

And Bridget and nurse laughed; and Mamma kissed her little foolish daughter, and bade her not cry any more.

But Lucy had to go to bed, all the same, for Mamma said it was the only proper place for a child who had broken (or caused to be broken, which amounted to the same thing), _seventy-two_ dishes, large and small, in less than half an hour. And I suppose Mamma was right, don’t you?

GOOSEY LUCY’S NEW YEAR’S CALLS.

“WHERE are you going, Uncle Fred?” asked Lucy.

“I am going to make New Year’s calls, little girl,” replied Uncle Fred.

“And how do you make them? What are they made of?” inquired Lucy.

“Oh—ah—my dear child!” said Uncle Fred, who was looking for his umbrella in a great hurry, “they are not _made of_ anything. You—ah—you just _call_, you know, on all the people you know. Oh, here it is! Good-by, little girl! I must be off.”

And off he hurried, leaving Lucy, mystified, in the hall.

“You just call!” she repeated. “Just call all the people you know. Why, that is easy enough, but what a funny thing to do!”

She pondered a few minutes and then continued, “I think _I_ will go and make New Year’s calls. It must be great fun! Perhaps I shall meet Uncle Fred, and then we can call together, and that will be just twice as loud.”

Away ran the little girl to her room. Blue coat, blue leggings, blue mittens, swan’s-down hood, all were on in three minutes’ time; and without a thought of Mamma or nurse or anybody else, Lucy slipped out of the door, and ran merrily down the street.

Oh, how fresh and clear the air was! How the snow sparkled in the sunlight! What a fine thing it was to make New Year’s calls!

And now the question was, where she should call first. Why, at Grandma’s, of course! her house was in the square, just round the corner. And then she would go to Aunt Maria’s, and then,—well, she would think about the next place as she went along, but here was Grandmamma’s house now.

Lucy looked up at all the windows, but no one was in sight.

So much the better! She planted herself squarely on the curbstone, and opening her mouth to its fullest extent, shouted, “Grandmamma! Grandmamma! Grandmamma!! GrandMAMMA!!!”

Her grandmother, who was sitting quietly by the fire, reading, heard the piercing screams, and running to the window as fast as her dear old feet could carry her, saw Lucy, panting and crimson, with her mouth just opening for another shout.

Something had happened at home,—an accident, probably! No time must be lost. Grandmamma threw up the sash.

“Run and call the doctor!” she cried. “Quick, dear! Don’t stop to tell me about it, but run! I will be there in three minutes!” And she shut the window, and trembling with anxiety, hastened to put on her shawl and bonnet, and almost ran through the snow to her daughter’s house.

Meanwhile, Lucy ran on in high glee. “I hadn’t thought of the doctor!” she said, “but of course I will go there, as Grandmamma wishes it. What fun it is!”

The doctor’s house was soon reached, and Lucy’s shouts brought the good man quickly to the door.

“Bless me!” he said, “Mrs. Graham’s little girl! Baby ill again, I suppose? All right, my dear!” he cried to Lucy. “I’ll be there instantly. Run and tell them I’m coming!” and he shut the door and called for his boots.

Lucy danced along, enchanted with her new play, and soon reached Aunt Maria’s house, where she called again, with might and main. Now, Aunt Maria was slightly deaf, and when she heard her own name resounding in a clear, shrill scream, “Aunt Mari-i-i-i-_ia_!!” she thought it was a cry of _fire_!

Throwing up the window (she was a very nervous and excitable person), she shrieked, “Fire! fire! Police! watchman! Help! help! _Fire!!_ FIRE!!!” till everyone within a dozen blocks heard her, and came rushing to the rescue with buckets and fire extinguishers.

Lucy was rather frightened at all this, and thought, on the whole, she would not make any more calls that day.

So she went home. And there were Grandmamma and the doctor and Mamma, all waiting for her, with very grave faces.

The two first had arrived, breathless and agitated, inquiring what had happened, and who was ill.

Much perplexity followed. And now that the author of all the mischief had arrived, what should be done to her?

Lucy’s finger went into her mouth, and her head went down.

But she told her story truthfully; and it was such a funny one that the doctor burst into a roar of laughter, and Grandmamma laughed heartily, and even Mamma could not look grave.

So Goosey Lucy had a lecture, and a New Year’s cookie, and went to tell her dolls all about it, while Mamma and Grandmamma and the doctor went to see how Aunt Maria was.

THREE LITTLE BIRDS.

THREE little birds Sat upon a tree. The first said “Chirrup!” The second said “Chee!” The third said nothing, (The middle one was he,) But sat there a-blinking, Because he was a-thinking. “Pee-wit! pee-wit! Yes, that is it! Pee-wip, pee-wop, pee-wee!”

Three little birds Sat upon a bough. The first said, “When is dinner-time?” The second said, “Now!” The third said nothing, (The middle one was he,) But sat there a-blinking, Because he was a-thinking. “Pee-wit! pee-wit! Yes, that is it! Pee-wip! pee-wop! pee-wee!”

Three little birds Flew down to the ground, And soon, by working very hard, A fine fat worm they found. The third flew down between them, (The middle one was he,) And ate it up like winking Because he had been thinking. “Pee-wit! pee-wit! Yes, that is it! Pee-wip! pee-wop! pee-wee!”

THE QUACKY DUCK.

THE Quacky Duck stood on the bank of the stream. And the frogs came and sat on stones and insulted him. Now the words which the frogs used were these,—

“Ya! ha! he hasn’t any hind-legs! Ya! ha! he hasn’t any fore-legs! Oh! what horrid luck To be a Quacky Duck!”

These were not pleasant words. And when the Quacky Duck heard them, he considered within himself whether it would not be best for him to eat the frogs.

“Two good things would come of it,” he said. “I should have a savoury meal, and their remarks would no longer be audible.”

So he fell upon the frogs, and they fled before him. And one jumped into the water, and one jumped on the land, and another jumped into the reeds; for such is their manner. But one of them, being in fear, saw not clearly the way he should go, and jumped even upon the back of the Quacky Duck. Now, this displeased the Quacky Duck, and he said, “If you will remove yourself from my person, we will speak further of this.”

So the frog, being also willing, strove to remove himself, and the result was that they two, being on the edge of the bank, fell into the water. Then the frog departed swiftly, saying, “Solitude is best for meditation.”

But the Quacky Duck, having hit his head against a stone, sank to the bottom of the pond, where he found himself in the frogs’ kitchen. And there he spied a fish, which the frogs had caught for their dinner, intending to share it in a brotherly manner, for it was a savoury fish. When the Quacky Duck saw it, he was glad; and he said, “Fish is better than frog” (for he was an English duck)! And, taking the fish, he swam with speed to the shore.

Now the frogs lamented when they saw him go, for they said, “He has our savoury fish!” And they wept, and reviled the Quacky Duck.

But he said, “Be comforted! for if I had not found the fish, I should assuredly have eaten you. Therefore, say now, which is the better for you?” And he ate the fish, and departed joyful.

NEW YEAR THOUGHTS.

WHEN the new year’s come, When the new year’s come, Then I will be a soldier, A-beating on a drum. A-beating on a drum, And a-tooting on a fife: And the new year, the new year Oh, that’s the best in life.

When the new year comes, When the new year comes, I sha’n’t have any joggraphy, I sha’n’t have any sums. I sha’n’t have any sums, Nor any rule of three, And the new year, the new year Oh, that’s the time for me.

P.S.—When the new year came, When the new year came, I had to go to school Just _exacketly_ the same! Exacketly the same! Do you think ’twas kind of mother? And the new year, the new year Is just like any other!

NONSENSE.

MARGERY MAGGOT, She lighted a faggot, To cook a repast for her cat. But instead of a bone, She made soup of a stone, And gave the poor animal that.

Barney O’Groggan, He bought a toboggan, And went out to coast on the hill. But he soon tumbled off, And came home with a cough, And his grandmother gave him a pill.

Triptolemus Tupper, Came home to his supper, And called for a pelican pie. But ’twas covered with fat, And when he saw that, Poor Trippy was ready to die.

Peter Polacko Was fond of tobacco, And purchased a pipe for to smoke. But against his desire His whiskers caught fire, And Peter was made into coke.

Prudence Pedantic, She nearly went frantic Because her small nephew said, “’Taint!” But when her big brother Said “Hain’t got none, nuther!” She fell on the floor in a faint.

THE SINGULAR CHICKEN.

HAL woke up very early on Christmas morning, so early that it was still quite dark.

He crept out of bed and ran to the chimney, got his stocking, which had been hung there the night before, and carried it back to bed with him.

Oh, what a delightful fat, lumpy stocking it was! Why did not the daylight come, so that he might see what was in it?