Chapter 5

Over in the meadow where the men make hay, In an elm-tree shadow on a bright summer day, Two speckled quails ponder as to what will be best, Should the stout mower blunder on their pretty home-nest.

But a cloud in a minute from her great white bed Threw a big silver bonnet o'er the sun's golden head And the quails, though they wondered would their home be beset, Cried aloud, and it thundered: "More wet! more wet!"

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Then the great sturdy yeoman coming close to the nest, With the heart of a true man beating soft in his breast, Saw the parent-quails watching, with what fear who can tell? Saw the baby-quails hatching, hardly out of the shell.

And who knows but he thought of his own precious baby His dear little daughter in her mother's arms, maybe? For he quickly made over that portion of meadow With the sweetest of clover, and the softest of shadow.

To the quails who all summer lived alongside the lane, Ever warning the farmer of the forth-coming rain; For long ere it thundered and I hear the cry yet They would call as they wandered, "More wet! More wet!"

* * * * *

DIDN'T-THINK is a heedless lad And never takes the prize: Remember-well wins every time. For he is quick and wise.

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_THE LITTLE HOUSEWIFE_.

This little girl knows how to make A batch of bread, or loaf of cake; She helps to cook potatoes, beets, To boil or bake the fish and meats. She knows to sweep and make a bed, Can hem a handkerchief for Ned; In short, a little housewife she, As busy as the busy bee.

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Let every girl learn how to do All things that help to make life true; That serve to keep the home-hearth bright; That o'er life's burdens throw a light. And then if she may never need Herself to labor, she may lead Her household in the better way, That eft shall bring a brighter day.

The boys, too, let them learn to know Of household duties, and to sew; For oft a button, oft a rip, By sewing they may save a "fip." Yes, let them know that "woman's work" With many a turn and many a quirk, Is not "a play with straws," as some. Would seem to think. 'Tis making home.

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_MOTHER-LOVE_.

"AR-G-O-O, ar-g-o-o," is the song of songs, To the loving mother's ear; "Ar-g-o-o, ar-g-o-o," these baby notes Fill all the house with cheer.

The baby's laugh, the baby's coo. The baby's every move, Is music, joy, and grace to her, Who is rich in mother-love.

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The precious pearl that is first unlocked By Nature's mystic key, From out the baby's jewel-box, Makes mamma's jubilee.

The day of baby's mastership To raise himself upright, An era marks along the way, By mother-love made light.

Her mother-voice lures on his step, Her care protects from harm; While deeper into her heart he glides, With every opening charm.

And when he "ma-ma" sweetly says, Or "pa-pa," in her breast His throne is fixed forevermore, This prince of babes confessed.

When threads of thought begin to spin, And webs of mind to weave, When kindling soul looks out at eyes That know not to deceive,--

The mother's holiest task to keep Her darling pure and true; Her constant care, her watchful prayer, Alone can guide him through

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The maze his youthful feet must tread, And if perchance he fall, Her baby still in him she sees, Her love can cover it all.

O, the wondrous love the baby brings, Is far beyond our ken! We only know that the fount once oped, Can never be dry again.

* * * * *

_IT SNOWS! IT SNOWS!_

It snows! yes, it snows! and the children are wild, At thought of the fun in the snow-drifts up-piled; The boy with his first new boots is in sight, And the wee baby-girl, with her mittens so bright. They are tramping and tossing the snow as they run, And laughing and shouting, so brimful of fun; While the ten-year-old twins, in a somersault mood, Have measured their length from the barn to the wood. A dozen times, yes, or it may be a score, Till their cheeks are as red as the roses, and more; Then the elfin of twelve and the boy of fifteen, Are pelting each other with snowballs so keen, That we, who are older, forget to be staid, {245} And shout, each with each, as the youngsters, arrayed In feathery garments, press on or retreat, Determined to win, nor acknowledge defeat, And the snow tumbles down with such beauty and grace That the air seems filled up with soft, bridal-veil lace, Through whose meshes the sunbeams shall kiss Mother Earth, Till the buds and the blossoms are bred into birth. But the children, at length, tired out with their play, And stamping the snow from their feet by the way, Come slipping and stumbling and scrambling along, While the big brother catching the baby-girl's song, "Oh, my finders are told!" gives her now a gay toss, The golden hair streaming like distaff of floss; And so cheery the group that is ranged round the board, That for snow, blessed snow! we all thank the good Lord.

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AN OLD SAW.

"If you'll break the first brake And will kill the first snake, You'll be sure to go through With what you undertake."

Thus our Grandma, quaint but queenly, Taught us grand-bairns one by one; And the lesson relished keenly Filled each spring-time full of fun.

For the watchful eyes were eager, And the flying feet must roam Till they every nook beleaguer Round the old ancestral home.

* * * * *

But 'twas not the broken brakelet That wrought good for after years; Not the killing of the snakelet, But the conquering of fears,

And the patient, wistful watching, Educating thought and eye, Made the brakelet and the snakelet Types of weal for bye and bye.

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_THE DANDELION BLOSSOM._

In the spring when the grass Had sprung up in the pass, And the meadows with velvet were green, We children would tease, "O, dear mother, please Let us doff shoes and stockings, (Ah! naught gave us shockings), And barefooted run o'er the leas, Aye, barefooted run o'er the leas."

And mother, so wise, Looking into our eyes,-- {249} "There's a snowdrift down under the hill! But when you will bring me, Yes, when you will fling me A dandelion blossom To wear on my bosom You may barefooted run as you will, Aye, barefooted run as you will."

So for "guineas of gold," O'er the dandelion-wold, We hunted afar and anear; And with shouts of delight We all greeted the sight Of the fully-blown flower Presaging the shower Of bright blossoms that brought us such cheer, Aye, the blossoms that brought us such cheer.

* * * * *

FEAR naught save that which slimes thee o'er With falsity or fraud:-- Let thine own soul stand clean and white Before its maker, God.

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_SUNSHINE._

The sun shines on forever Though clouds may hide his face; His brightness and his glory The whole wide world may trace For clouds are naught but vapor Whose fleecy veils unfold, And softest silver lining We then with joy behold.

* * * * *

_OUR ETHEL._

Our Ethel was not always, As people may have thought, A goody-goody little girl Who never mischief wrought.

Oh, no, our darling Ethel, The precious little woman, Although so very dear to us, Was most intensely human.

She waded into mischief Like ducklets into water, And kept us ever on the watch With, "Daughter!" "Oh, my Daughter!"

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She took the ribbon from her hair The kitten to bedeck, Then brought its tail between its legs And tied it tail and neck.

She took her dolly to the pump And pinned it on the spout, And then with all her might and main She pumped the water out.

"Oh, little Haynth tho' thelfith,' She cried, because her cousin {252} Besought one pillow, while she hugged Them all, a half a dozen.

She found a bell that tinkled, And fastened it, for fun, 'Round kitty's neck then clapped her hands, And cried, run! Kitty, run!

She fain would pick the eyes out, Of little baby-brother, "To find the pretty balls like those In fishes' eyes, and other."

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And then she'd fold her little hands So quaintly and demurely, You'd think she must be quite a saint, Or not a sinner, surely.

And thus her pranks from day to day And hour to hour repeated, Would bring the thought, "Tis all for naught, Our aims are all defeated."

* * * * *

Nay, nay, not so, the years roll by, And Ethel's baby-mischief Becomes the power that leads her kind, For by her force she is chief.

* * * * *

_THE SIX SISTERS._

ONE of us e'er lives in dates, One in every peach awaits; One in pine-apple is found, One in orange, bright and round, One in plum, so luscious sweet, And our last in strawberry--treat.

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_THE LITTLE GIRLS' LETTER TO GOD._

Now Susy's such a naughty dirl, And I ain't any better, And so we thought we just would wite The dear dood Dod a letter.

And tell him all about our bad, Betause he'd have to know, Or else he touldn't mate us dood, And so we told him how,

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Once when I spit on Susy's dwess Then Susy spit on me; And when I bwote her dolly's arm She smashed my Twistmas-twee.

Then when I pushed her off the wall, She spattered me with mud; When I pulled up her tolumbine, She snapped my wed wose-bud

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I talled her "old dwanmother Dwill" And she tailed me "old maid,"-- And then we stwatched each others' eyes Down in the darden shade.

And then my ma and Susy's ma Both said the only way Would be to teep us little dirls Apart in all our play.

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And so the bid, brown date was shut, And that was such a bother,-- 'Tause Susy's yard was on one side And mine was on the other.

But we tould peet thwough all the twats, And tiss us thwough the hole Where the bid, udly knot tame out, As bid as Susy's bowl,

For I love Susy awful much, And Susy she loves me, And so we told the dear, dood Dod We'd twy dood dirls to be.

So now when we just feel the bad A-tomin' in our heart, We both wun home and shut the date And teep ourselves apart.

And in a minute all the dood Tomes bat,--and then our plays Seem nicer yet, and we fordet The naughty,--naughty--ways.

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_GRANDMA'S LESSONS._

"Tis guilt to wear the garb of sin, Though all be innocent within," These little girls heard grandma say, And wondered if 'twere half in play. But when they're wiser, older grown, And when the world to them is known, They'll learn to shun even seeming ill; They'll learn with grace their lives to fill, And thank dear grandma o'er and o'er, For this, and many lessons more. "'Tis guilt to wear the garb of sin, Though all be innocent within."

"If you do well by others' ills, You'll do right well," she said, When we would come and tell about The naughtiness of Ned. "Now children, if you shun the bad You may in others find, And never let yourself be rude, Or naughty, or unkind, You'll learn to do by others' ills Right well," dear grandma said, "And in the way that's good and true, Your youthful feet shall tread."

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_MY LITTLE FOUR-YEARS-OLD_

Telling Dolly what she will say to her birthday friends

I'm four years old to-day, and I Can talk enough for ten birth-days, And I shan't rhyme it, neither;-- For little girls can't do it nice. No matter what they think, and so They needn't try, no, never.

I'm glad you all are here, and now, With all our dollies in a row, I'm sure we'll have good times; And when we have our apples, grapes, And nuts and figs and patty-cakes, Who'll care for silly rhymes!

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_HANDSOME DICK._

ELZIE'S kitty, white as snow, Loves his little mistress so, That he'll come at her command, Lift his paw to shake her hand, Bow his head and kneel to her, Rumpling all his milk-white fur; Many another pretty trick, Too, he's learned, our Elzie's Dick.

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Well, the Church-Fair coming on, Elzie thought, "What can be done By a little girl like me, In the cause of charity?"

Mam'a told her she would show Her some fancy work to do, Which a half-a-dozen dimes Sure would bring;--so, many times Elzie made her fingers fly Neat and nice to form the "tie." Now our Elzie, large and fine, Looks like twelve, though only nine-- And the "tie" when quite complete, Was so small, though choice and neat, That it could not be denied, Elzie was not satisfied. So she shook her curly head, As with curious smile she said: "If I were a _little_ girl, Like Nannette or Cousin Pearl, This wee 'tie' might then appear Just the thing,--but now, I fear, Looking at the 'tie' and me, We shall seem to disagree.--

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Now, Mamma, don't answer quick; Stop and think,--my snowy Dick At the Fair might win some pence, By his wise obedience; And his pretty winsome ways Being shown through all the days;-- And, dear Mamma, then I should Feel I'd done the best I could."

Quickly Mamma took the thought, And a royal cage was brought; Cushion made of scarlet bright,-- For our Dicky, pure and white, Thus was wont to perch and sit,-- And a collar blue we fit To his neck, when loyal, true, He presents red, white, and blue.

So the cage is placed within A sly corner, free from din, And with tickets five cents each, Elzie sought her end to reach.

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"Handsome Dick! weight fifteen pounds"-- Whispers Elzie on her rounds; "What is 'Handsome Dick'?" they say; "Come and see, please,--step this way;"

And once seen they're glad to tell Others of white Dick, as well;-- For the cat, as knowing now He must make his courtliest bow.

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Did his best to help along Elzie's plan, the friends among. Upon his cushion he would stand, Or sit, as Elzie might command; Then down upon his blanket lie And be wrapped up like baby-bye; Would lap his milk, or dainty, sip, And shake his pretty under-lip, Thus showing teeth as white as pearl,-- Then round and round would quickly whirl, Till each one seeing, cheerful, said: "For that five cents I'm sure we're paid."

Thus the three days passing by, Which the Fair must occupy-- Dollars ten--ah, yes! and more, Elzie holds within her store! Dues for cage and tickets met, And the _ten_ is Elzie's yet,-- Which unto the Fair she gave With an air so joyful-grave, That it seemed a spirit bright, Nestled in her heart so light;-- And a happier child than she, We may never hope to see.

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_BESSIE'S KISSES._

Kisses, kisses, raining, raining, On her lips, her cheeks, her brow, Till she, wearied, "Daughter, darling, Mamma's had enough for now." "Ah! but Bessie has so many!"-- Naught the pretty prattler daunts; Mamma pleading, baby shouting, "Ah! but Bessie's more'n she wants."

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_THE DINNER-POT._

The homeliest things are highest worth, The dinner-pot's a treasure Compared with diamonds, chains and rings, Which serve alone for pleasure;-- Enwreathe the dinner-pot with flame, And fill it with love's mixings, And it possesses charms beyond All gold or fancy fixings.

And then, our bony frame-work, too, So stiff and hard and homely, Will serve when plumpness all is gone, And lost is all that's comely. Fling beauty, grace and sweetness round, Festoon your lives with flowers, But ne'er forget that plainest things Are life's most precious dowers.

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_NANNY'S PLAY._

Our Nanny helped her mother In many a childish way,-- She picked up chips to feed the fire, And "played that it was play."

She loved the hens and chickens And fed them day by day, And dubbed them each with quaintest name, And this was always play.

She hunted through the big barn For hens' nests in the hay, And fetched the eggs right carefully, And this again was play.

She donned her mother's dust-cap And danced about so gay, And planned how she would house-keep, And this was "truly play."

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With basin full of water She scrubbed the door one day, And splashed about till mother dear Must work instead of play.

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With brush and broom a-sweeping She fluttered like a fay; The broken cup soon told her 'Twas anything but play.

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She romped around the hay-field And shook the new-mown hay, And with her baby-rake she gleaned The meadow for her play.

She ran to pick the berries That ripened by the way, And with her basket full to brim This was the best of play.

So many things, so many, Far more than I can say, Our Nanny in her childhood Has "played that it was play."

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_NANNY'S LESSONS._

Our Nanny was but four years old When mother said, "My love, Your needle learn with skill to use, It will a blessing prove."

So Nanny learned to "overhand," And "hem" so fine and neat, To "backstitch," "run," and many a join That she could scarce repeat.

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She learned to "catch-stitch" and to "cross," To "patch" and "darn," as well, To "gather," "plait," "box-plait" and "side," To "feather-stitch" and "fell."

She sewed the buttons fast, and "worked The buttonholes" so neat, That many an eld accomplishes With less success, the feat.

"Be sure your thread is smooth and strong, A goodly knot or two, A double stitch for first, and then A fastening sure when through;

"And thus your seams will never rip, Your sewing never wear,-- Like buttons loose and hooks awry,-- A slip-shod, shiftless air."

All this and more her mother taught, And Nanny conned it o'er Till she was versed in all the arts That point the seamster's lore.

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Her ninth birthday, and mother said "You're old enough to care For all your clothing now, my child, Except the best you wear.

"And here, within this little chest, And in this drawer wide, You'll keep them ranged so neat and nice, Whatever may betide.

"A place for this, a place for that, Each garment grouped aright, That you may lay your little hand Upon it, day or night.

"No garment must be laid within, Except it ready be, To don and wear, for thus you spare Us trouble, you and me."

And Nanny, pleased with mother's trust, Accepted it with pride, And, in her heart, the lessons learned Forevermore abide.

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_NANNY'S RIDE._

Our Nanny oft in fancy Soared up, the earth above, And sailed the great air-ocean With skylark or with dove.

And in this fashion musing, One sunny summer's day, Half-watching mother mending And baby-brother play,

Without a word of warning The old umbrella came, Opened upside down before her, And whispered soft her name.

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"Come, Nanny you've been longing For a ride, and now's your time: Jump in,--be quick! And careful, too, For I'm o'erpast my prime."

So, springing in, she sat there As happy as you please, And through the open window, Was borne upon the breeze.

The sparrows eyed her keenly, The doves left off their cooing, And children, cause they couldn't go, Set up a grand boo-hoo-ing.

She bobbed against a clothes-line, And all the wash went flying; {278} The good dame cried, "A witch! a witch! The saints forefend my drying."

And next she got entangled In the telegraphic wires; And when she jerked away from them, She bumped against the spires.

She hit the tallest chimneys, And set the smoke a-curling, Then knocked a flag-pole all awry, The stars and stripes a-whirling.

Now, far beyond the city, With mountains in her face, An eagle pounced to catch her, But she quickly won the race.

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Within a mountain cavelet, Two baby-bears so young, Smiled on her as she passed them, And greetings to her flung.

She heard the thunder rolling. And saw the lightning's glare, From clouds away beneath her, While 'round her all was fair.

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She met a cherub driving A brace of butterflies, While dancing on a gorgeous one, Away in wonder-skies.

She saw an angel lighting The stars up one by one, As he balanced on a cloudlet That was left behind the sun.

She heard angelic music, Far up, the blue along, And knew 'twas Mary crooning o'er Her first sweet cradle-song.

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She saw such wondrous pictures, So beautiful and grand, Such skyscapes and such cloudscapes, Such waterscapes and land.

But now the fluttering insects All round her plainly told That she was nearing Mother Earth Far o'er the daisy-wold;

And startled at the distance From home, the baby screaming And mother still a-mending there, Told Nanny she'd been dreaming.

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_THE RACE._

A hop, a skip, and a gambol, A run, a tumble, a scramble, An up-and-a-going, A laughing-and-crowing, A weal-and-a-woe-ing,-- Yes, a race for a ball Or a toy we may call, This race that is human,-- For child, man, or woman, Tis one and the same, A mysterious game That is played by us all, And we each get a fall; And so many it may be That forever a baby We feel in the race For a name and a place.

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_OUR KENNETH._

Written for our pet, as indicative of what he _should be_ but _is not_.

Know ye our little black-eyed boy? His name is Kenney Stone; Now listen, for he always speaks In such a gentle tone.

He never says "I will!" "I wi'n't!" He's never rough nor rude, But always bows with, "Thank you; please;" And tries to be so good.

Our Kenneth never kicks nor strikes, Nor makes an ugly face; He never slides down banisters, Nor puts things out of place.

He never says a naughty word, Nor tells a big, big story! O, no, nor even a little one, To make us all so sorry.

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Our Kenneth is a gentleman, He will not scratch nor bite; He never speaks to any child, A word that is not right.

Our Kenneth never slams the doors Nor stamps along the halls; He goes away when he is told, And comes when mamma calls.

Our Kenneth, everybody loves, Because he's so polite, Our darling little black-eyed boy, Our Kenney Stone so bright.

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_TO MY TEN-YEARS-OLD._

On thy cheek the roses lie; Lilies, on thy forehead fair; Violets blue, in each bright eye, Sunbeams, in thy golden hair.

Pearls, within thy coral lips, Ears and nostrils, crystal-clear, Dainty, sea-shell finger tips, Form, a sylph might love to wear.

Yet no beauty, thou, my child, Save as filled with inward grace; Save a spirit, undefiled, Warm thy heart and wreathe thy face.

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_DARE TO SAY NO._

Dear children, you are sometimes led To sorrow, sin, and woe, {289} Because you have not courage quite, And dare not answer, No.

When playmates tell you this, or that Is "very nice to do," See first what mamma says, or if You think 'tis wrong, say No.

Be always gentle, but be firm. And wheresoe'er you go, If you are asked to do what's wrong, Don't fear to answer, No.

False friends may laugh and sneer at you. Temptations round you flow, But prove yourself both brave and true, And firmly tell them, No.

Sometimes a thing that's not a sin, You might be asked to do,-- But when you think it is not best, Don't yield, but answer, No.

True friends will honor you the more, Ah, yes, and false ones too, When they have learned you're not afraid To stand and answer, No.

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And when temptations rise within, And plead to "come," or "go," And do a wrong for "_just this once_" Be sure you answer, No.