Part 6

OH I'm a little Tuchman, My name is Van der Dose, An' vat I cannot get to eat, I smells it mit my nose.

An' ven dey vill not let me blay, I takes it out in vork;

And ven dey makes me vork too hard, I soon de jop will shirk.

An' ven dey sends me off to ped, I lays avake all night; An' ven dey comes to vake me up, I shuts my eyes up tight.

For I'm a little Tuchman, My name is Van der Dose, An' vat I do not know myself, I never vants to knows.

A BIRTHDAY.

OLD man with the hour-glass, halt! halt! I pray-- Don't you see you are taking my children away? My own little babies who came long ago, You stole them, old man with the beard white as snow!

My beautiful babies, so bonny and bright! Where have you carried them far out of sight? Oh, dimpled their cheeks were, and sunny their hair! But I cannot find them; I've searched everywhere.

My three-year-old toddlers, they shouted in glee; They sported about me; they sat on my knee. Oh, their prattle and laughter were silvery rain! Old man, must I list for their voices in vain?

They were here; they were gone while their kisses were warm. I scarce knew the hour when they slipped from my arm-- Oh! where was I looking when peerless and sweet, They followed the track of your echoless feet?

My brave little school-boys who ran in and out, And lifted the air with their song and their shout; My boys on the coldest days ever aglow, My dear, romping school-boys who bothered me so.

There were two of them then; and one of the two-- Ah! I never was watchful enough--followed you. My chubby-faced darling, my kite-flying pet-- Alack! all his playthings are lying here yet.

And the other. O Time! do not take him away! For a few precious years, I implore, let him stay. I love him--I need him--my blessing and joy! You have had all the rest: leave me one little boy!

He halts! He will stop! No; the fall of the sand In the hour-glass deceived me. It seemed at a stand. But whom have we here? Jamie! Harry! how? why Just as many as ever--and Time passing by?

I can hardly believe it. But surely it's clear My babies, my toddlers, my school-boys are here! And I've two great big fellows (one lithe and one tall) Besides all the rest--and more precious than all,

Jamie, my bouncer, my man-boy, my pride! Harry, my sunbeam, whatever betide; Both of them, all of them, dozens in two-- Crowds of my children are standing in view!

Move on, then, O Time! I have nothing to say, You have left me far more than you've taken away. And yet I would whisper a word ere you go: You've a year of my Harry's--the last one, you know--

How does it rank among those that have flown? Was it worthily used when he called it his own? God filled it with happiness, comfort, and health-- Did my darling use rightly its Love-given wealth?

No answer in words. Yet it really did seem That the sand sparkled lightly--the scythe sent a gleam. Is it answer and promise? God grant it be so, From that silent old man with the beard white as snow.

THE PIG AND THE LARK.

A PIG scrambled up from his slumbers, And grunted with rage at the lark: "Why must you begin your loud carol Before we are out of the dark?"

"Good sir," said the lark, as he flitted Right gayly from blossom to bud, "Look up to the sky for your morning-- It never begins in the mud!"

THE WELL-MEANING FROG.

'TWAS a lonely bog, With a boy and frog On the marsh's brink. "I'll kill him!" cried the boy. In fact He leaned to do the dreadful act,-- When lo! a splash! And in a flash Did froggie think:

Too true He meant to do Some harm to me, But then, you see To mock him now would not be kind, Lest he should drown. I'll just go down And tickle his ears To calm his fears And let him know that I didn't mind.

Soon, a dripping, sobbing, muddy boy Ran home across that lonesome bog; While placidly smiling on the shore Squatted that thoroughly well-meaning frog.

THE FROST-KING.

OHO! have you seen the Frost-King, A-marching up the hill? His hoary face is stern and pale, His touch is icy chill. He sends the birdlings to the South, He bids the brooks be still; Yet not in wrath or cruelty He marches up the hill.

He will often rest at noontime, To see the sunbeams play; And flash his spears of icicles, Or let them melt away. He'll toss the snow-flakes in the air, Nor let them go nor stay; Then hold his breath while swift they fall, That coasting boys may play.

He'll touch the brooks and rivers wide, That skating crowds may shout; He'll make the people far and near Remember he's about. He'll send his nimble, frosty Jack-- Without a shade of doubt-- To do all kinds of merry pranks, And call the children out;

He'll sit upon the whitened fields, And reach his icy hand O'er houses where the sudden cold Folks cannot understand. The very moon, that ventures forth From clouds so soft and grand, Will stare to see the stiffened look That settles o'er the land.

And so the Frost-King o'er the hills, And o'er the startled plain, Will come and go from year to year Till Earth grows young again-- Till Time himself shall cease to be, Till gone are hill and plain: Whenever Winter comes to stay, The hoary King shall reign.

AFTER THE WINTER.

THE summer is coming--hurrah! Old winter has gone for good. The summer is coming--hurrah! hurrah! The birdies are in the wood.

The chickens are coming--hurrah! Hear how the old hen clucks: The chickens are coming--hurrah! hurrah! And the queer little turkeys and ducks.

The tad-poles are coming--hurrah! With their comical, wriggling tails: The tad-poles are coming--hurrah! hurrah! Like little mites of whales.

The crickets are coming--hurrah! And katydids always so funny: And fire-flies too--hurrah! hurrah! And bumble-bees laden with honey.

The ant-hills are coming--hurrah! What fun to see them rise: The ant-hills are coming--hurrah! hurrah! They're growing before our eyes.

The daisies are coming--hurrah! We'll weave them in many a chain: The daisies are coming--hurrah! hurrah! The daisies are coming again!

The cherries are coming--hurrah! And apples and peaches and plums: The fruit is a-coming--hurrah! hurrah! We'll feast on it when it comes.

The swallows are coming--hurrah! There'll be lots of birds in the sky; The swallows are coming--hurrah! hurrah! We'll whoop at them as they fly.

The corn-fields are coming--hurrah! So green and waving and high: The corn-fields are coming--hurrah! hurrah! We'll hide in them by-and-by.

The summer is coming--hurrah! We can bathe and swim and dive: The summer is coming--hurrah! hurrah! Oh! it's jolly to be alive!

It's jolly to live--hurrah! Let us all be good and glad: It's the grandest world--hurrah! hurrah! That ever we children have had.

LITTLE WHIMPY.

WHIMPY, little Whimpy Cried so hard one day, His Grandma couldn't stand it, And his mother ran away; His sister climbed the hay-mow, His father went to town, And cook flew to the neighbor's, In her shabby, kitchen gown.

Whimpy, little Whimpy Stood out in the sun And cried until the chickens And ducks began to run; Old Towser in his kennel Growled in an angry tone; Then burst his chain, and Whimpy Was left there, all alone.

Whimpy, little Whimpy Cried, and cried, and cried; Soon the sunlight vanished, Flowers began to hide, Birdies ceased their singing, Frogs began to croak, Darkness came; and Whimpy Found crying was no joke.

Whimpy, little Whimpy, Never'll forget the day When his Grandma couldn't stand it, And his mother ran away; He was waiting by the window When they all came home to tea-- And a gladder boy than Whimpy You never need hope to see.

NIGHT AND DAY.

WHEN I run about all day, When I kneel at night to pray, God sees.

When I'm dreaming in the dark, When I lie awake and hark, God sees.

Need I ever know a fear? Night and day my Father's near:-- God sees.

AT THE WINDOW.

IN and out, in and out, Through the clouds heaped about, Wanders the bright moon.

What she seeks, I do not know; Where it is, I cannot show.

I am but a little child, And the night is strange and wild.

In and out, in and out, Wanders the bright moon; In and out, in and out, She will find it soon.

There she comes! as clear as day,-- Now the clouds are going away. She is smiling, I can see, And she's looking straight at me.

Pretty moon, so bright and round, Won't you tell me what you found?

OUT OF THE SHELL.

WELL, I'm out, after all! And I'll say, on my word, That's a pretty mean house For a duck of a bird!

Why, I couldn't stand up, And I couldn't sit down, But I lay in a cramp From my toes to my crown.

My good mammy and dad May have thought me a spoon, But they'll not get me back In that thing very soon.

BEES in the manger-- Poor Dobbin's nose! Boys in the garden;-- Hide, pretty rose! Cats in the dairy-- Woe to the cream! Spiders on the ceiling-- Hear Mollie scream!

BABY NELL.

BABY NELL had ten little toes, Baby Nell had two little hose, She always stared when the hose went on, And thought her ten little toes were gone.

LEMONS for Molly; Molly is sour. Roses for Polly; Polly's a flower. Ginger for Willie; Willie is quick. Powders for Tillie; Tillie is sick.

JAMIE'S TROUBLES.

MAMMA, what's zis on my ap'on? Nassy ap'on make me ky; Naughty ap'on awfu' 'ticky-- Puttin' 'lasses in my eye.

Go 'way, B'idget! P'ease don't wass me (Don't want on no pooty d'esses), Dim me nudder piece of tandy, _Den_ I be oor 'ittle pres-sus.

Mamma, see, zis naughty soo-string Make poor Damie tumble down, It's all b'oke--I want my Pop-pa Buy me nudder, 'way down town.

Mamma, see zis funny tup! Damie hit it wiz his hammer. Dess it's b'oke. Don't yip me, Mamma, If oo do, I tell my Damma.

Mamma, dess I dettin s'eepy; Don't make Damie tate a nap; Tell me pooty 'tory, Mamma-- Tate poor Damie on oor lap.

Pooty Mamma, b'essed Mamma-- (Want a d'ink out Damie's mug?) O dat button hurt me dreffel! Dat's yight, Mamma--dim me hug!

JEAN AND KITTY.

HOW did they learn that their ways were small? Jean and Kitty-- How did they know they were scorned by all? Jean and Kitty. Why, they listened one day, at a neighbor's blinds, And heard the family speak their minds-- What a pity!

DOGGIE'S TRICKS.

WHAT'S this coming? Baby, hark! It's the doggie--hear him bark-- Bow, wow, wow, wow-- Don't you frighten Baby now!

Pussy hears him. See her hide, Now her eyes are open wide: Meouw, Meouw--_sptisss, sptisss_! Oh how angry pussy is!

Go 'way, doggie--run off, quick; Moonie cow has found your stick-- Moo, moo, moo, moo; Moonie cow is calling you.

Now he's off. He's in the yard, All the sheep are running hard. Ba-a, ba-a, ba-a, ba-a! (What a naughty dog you are!)

Up, old rooster! doggie's coming; He will catch you--see him running! Ech-ka cock-a-doodle doo-- Go 'way, dog! Who cares for you?

Now he's at the ducks--O look! See them waddle to the brook. Quack! quack! quack! quack! Doggie cannot drive them back.

Turkey gobbler, chase him now; Chase him, turkeys! Bow, wow, wow! Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble! Bow, wow, wow--gobble, gobble!

Sting him, bees! The naughty doggie! Jump upon him, great big froggie! Buzz, buzz, gluck, gluck: Now, old doggie, where's your pluck?

There, they've bothered you enough-- And you're sorry, poor old Buff? Bow, wow, wow, wow, Come and play with Baby now.

A SONG FOR BERTIE.

BABY BUFFETTY met a cow-- _Moo, moo!_ How d'ye do? Baby Buffetty made a bow-- _Moo, moo!_ How d'ye do? Baby Buffetty met a sheep-- _Baa, baa!_ How's your ma? Baby Buffetty gave a leap-- _Baa, baa!_ How's your ma? Baby Buffetty met a lion-- _Roar, G-r-r-rooo!_ Go away! Baby Buffetty ran off crying, _Roar, G-r-r-rooo!_ Go away!

A COMMON MISTAKE.

THE wisest thing For any man, Is to get from others All he can. The meanest thing A man can do, Is to get his gains From me or you.

LITTLE MINNIE STOWE.

THE fairest and the merriest, The kindest girl I know, The brightest and the cheeriest, Is little Minnie Stowe.

Little Minnie Stowe it is-- Little Minnie Stowe; I'll marry her when I am big-- The sweetest girl I know!

LETTING THE OLD CAT DIE.

NOT long ago, I wandered near A play-ground in the wood, And there heard a thing from youthful lips That I've never understood:

"Now let the old cat die!" he laughed; I saw him give a push, Then gayly scamper away as he spied My face peep over the bush.

But what he pushed, or where it went, I could not well make out, On account of the thicket of bending boughs That bordered the place about.

"The little villain has stoned a cat, Or hung it upon a limb, And left it to die all alone," I said; "But I'll play the mischief with _him_."

I forced my way between the boughs, The poor old cat to seek, And what did I find but a swinging child, With her bright hair brushing her cheek.

Her bright hair floated to and fro, Her red little dress flashed by,

But the liveliest thing of all, I thought, Was the gleam of her laughing eye.

Swinging and swaying back and forth, With the rose-light in her face, She seemed like a bird and a flower in one, And the wood her native place.

"Steady! I'll send you up, my child," But she stopped me with a cry: "Go 'way! go 'way! Don't touch me, please-- I'm letting the old cat die!"

"_You_, letting him die?" I cried, aghast; "Why, where is the cat, my dear?" And lo! the laughter that filled the woods Was a thing for the birds to hear.

"Why, don't you know," said the little maid, The flitting, beautiful elf, "That we call it 'letting the old cat die' When the swing stops all itself?"

Then floating and swinging, and looking back With merriment in her eye, She bade me "good-day," and I left her alone, A-letting the old cat die.

WHAT shall we take to Boston? Tell me, my baby, pray, We must take our eyes to see with, And take our ears to hear with, And take our feet to run with, And take our arms to hug with, And a how d'ye do? How _do_ you do? And how are you all to-day?

WASHING-DAY.

WHILE mother is tending baby, We'll help her all we can, For I'm her little toddlekins, And you're her little man. And Nell will bring the basket, For she's the biggest daughter, And I'll keep rubbing, rubbing, And you'll pour in the water--

And now we'll have to hurry Because it's getting late-- Poor dolly isn't dressed yet, But dolly'll have to wait. I'll pour, and you can rub 'em, Whichever you had rather-- But seems to me, if I keep on, We'll get a quicker lather. Maybe, when mother sees us Takin' so much troubles, She'll let us put our pipes in And blow it full of bubbles: But now we'll have to hurry, Because it's getting late-- And dolly isn't dressed yet, But dolly'll have to wait.

TROTTY MALONE.

BOYS and girls, come riddle and ravel, Tell us how you would like to travel.

Crispy, crackly, snow and tingle, "Give me sleighs!" said Jenny Jingle.

Stony, bumpty, bang and bolter, "Give me carts!" said Johnny Jolter.

Slidy, glidy, jerky whiff-ter, "Give me cars!" cried Sally Swifter.

Flipetty, cricketty, elegant go, "Give me a buggy!" said Benjamin Beau.

"A fig for them all!" cried Trotty Malone, "Give me a stout pair of legs of my own!"

DON'T trust Chatter, who whispers low, And tells you stories of Prue and Joe. Be sure when he whispers to Joe and Prue, He'll tell them many a tale of you.

RED AND WHITE.

ONCE on a still December night, In the freezing, wintry weather, Two little stockings, red and white, Were softly talking together.

Firelight flashed in the darkened room, Shadows were sliding and creeping Over the beds where, half in the gloom, Two little children were sleeping.

"Hark ye!" said White in a whisper low, "I fancy, Red, by your bulging so, You come from some plump little baby-leg-- If I'm mistaken, your pardon I beg."

"That's so," said Red, "for she kicked me off This very day (and she'll have a cough, As sure as I'm knit, for her careless ways-- A cough that may trouble her all her days).

"But you? Ah! you look so fair and trim, You came from some little royal limb, With your dainty heading of daisy pink-- At least so an humble sock would think."

"Hoho!" said White. "Don't you know me, Red? Why, there's my owner in yonder bed-- Yours in the cradle and mine in the crib; And mine is the bigger, or else I fib.

"But bless me, Red, I care not a fig, Though yours be little and mine be big; Soon shall we hang in equal pride From yonder mantel side by side.

"Down the chimney a figure will bound-- Old Saint Nicholas, funny and round; And, stuffing as though he never would stop, He'll fill us with good things up to the top."

"Hurrah!" cried Red, "and well for me That I bulge in the ankle and foot, you see." "And well for me," said White, "that I, Though narrow and slim, am long and high.

"But, Red, after all, we needn't care, Though in shape and room we're not a pair; For the cradle and crib hold sisters, you see, And the crib will give to the cradle from me.

"If I hold more and you hold less, The babies'll make it even, I guess." "That's so," said Red, "but I quite despair When you hang so grand on the back of a chair."

"Pooh, pooh!" said White, "don't think of that-- Think of the hours that I'm folded flat; And how often, when shoe-pegs pierce me through, I long to be woolen and thick like you."

"That's so," said Red--'twas his pet reply-- "But then I take so long to dry! It's very unpleasant to be so thick-- Besides, I'm just as red as a brick."

"My friend," said White, with an anxious sigh, "How quickly your troubles multiply! I really think" (here he gave a cough) "It affects your spirits--to be kicked off."

"That's so," said Red again--"I feel Just good for nothing from toe to heel. She kicks me off, till I'm almost dead, I'd die of the blues if I wasn't so red."

"Come, neighbor, cheer up!" said White in distress; "We're only stockings, I must confess; Yet we suit the feet that are wearing us out, So there really is nothing to worry about.

"The worst that stockings or children can do Is to hold the dark side always in view. This fretting and fussing, dear Red, is shocking. I _know_ it is; though I'm only a stocking.

"And think how grand it will be, dear Red-- Or how glad we shall feel, I should have said-- When on Christmas morning, after their sleep, Our dear little owners into us peep."

"That's so!" cried the other. "Away with folly, For the rest of my days I mean to be jolly. She may kick me off--the dear little tot-- Whenever she pleases; I'll mind it not.

"Christmas is coming! that's so! that's so! And _then_ I'll be somebody--won't I, though? By the way, old White, I wish it were day, So she'd put me on, and frolic and play."

White laughed with joy, and said, "All right. You've come to your senses now. Good-night." And so all quiet and peaceful they lay Till the children awoke at break of day.

THE THIRD OF JULY.

HA, ha! little toddlekins--cash did you say? You shall have it, my boys. For racket and noise, Crackers and powder, Louder and louder, Shall bang and resound on the glorious day!

Here's a dollar for Johnny, a dollar for Paul. And you, little Dick, Come to father my chick! Now _that's_ for a pack, And _that's_ for a pack, And _that's_ for torpedoes and snappers and all!

Now Robbie and Willie,--you boys with "real" pockets; Ha, ha! I declare. Shall I put it in there? Hear it dropping, co-chunk! What! you want more for punk? Here it is. And _I'll_ see to the pin-wheels and rockets.

Of course, you all know of the great Declaration That made us as free As a country could be. On that glorious Fourth, East, West, South, and North Were proclaimed a United American Nation!

How our forefathers bled,--they, the mighty and wroth! To make us all free,-- Yes, _you_, boys, and me. Though you can't understand How they wrestled and planned, You can honor them, boys, and remember the Fourth.

Be off with your money! To-morrow's the word! Hold, Johnny, here's more To divide 'twixt you four. And Dick, here's a dime,-- Hurrah! What a time! We'll have such a racket as never was heard!

WHEN I am big, I mean to buy A dozen platters of pumpkin-pie, A barrel of nuts, to have 'em handy, And fifty pounds of sugar-candy.

When I am big, I mean to wear A long-tailed coat, and crop my hair; I'll buy a paper, and read the news, And sit up late whenever I choose.

WIND for the tree-top, sun for the spear; Johnny will be a big boy in a year. When he is big he can battle the storm; While he is little, we'll wrap him up warm.

"HERE'S plenty of shells and clay and water, Make me some nice mud-pies, my daughter." "Oh! yes, mamma--and the sun is hot, I can heat my oven as well as not. If you will take, why, I will make-- Pit 'em and pat 'em and set 'em to bake."

LITTLE BELL DREER AND THE DISH-COVER.

O MAMMA! look, cried little Bell Dreer; There's a girl in the cover like me; And whenever I move she looks so queer; It's so funny--I never did see!