Chapter 1

Chapter 13,055 wordsPublic domain

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THE BROWNIES: THEIR BOOK

BY PALMER COX

APPLETON-CENTURY-CROFTS, INC. NEW YORK

Printed in U. S. A.

CONTENTS.

Page

THE BROWNIES AT SCHOOL.

AS Brownies rambled 'round one night, A country schoolhouse came in sight; And there they paused awhile to speak About the place, where through the week The scholars came, with smile or whine,

Each morning at the stroke of nine. "This is," said one, "the place, indeed, Where children come to write and read. 'T is here, through rules and rods to suit, The young idea learns to shoot; And here the idler with a grin In nearest neighbor pokes the pin,

Or sighs to break his scribbled slate And spring at once to man's estate. How oft from shades of yonder grove I've viewed at eve the shouting drove As from the door they crowding broke, Like oxen from beneath the yoke."

Another said: "The teacher's chair, The ruler, pen, and birch are there, The blackboard hangs against the wall; The slate's at hand, the books and all. We might go in to read and write And master sums like scholars bright."

The more they talked, the stronger grew The wish to prove how much they knew. From page to page through books to pass And spell the words that tried the class; So through their skill they soon obtained Access to all the room contained.

"I'll play," cried one, "the teacher's part; I know some lessons quite by heart, And every section of the land To me is plain as open hand." "With all respect, my friend, to you," Another said, "that would not do. You're hardly fitted, sir, to rule;

Your place should be the dunce's stool. You're not with great endowments blessed; Besides, your temper's not the best, And those who train the budding mind Should own a disposition kind. The rod looks better on the tree Than resting by the master's knee; _I'll_ be the teacher, if you please; I know the rivers, lakes, and seas, And, like a banker's clerk, can throw The figures nimbly in a row. I have the patience, love, and grace, So requisite in such a case."

Now some bent o'er a slate or book, And some at blackboards station took. They clustered 'round the globe with zeal, And kept it turning like a wheel. Said one, "I've often heard it said, The world is rounder than your head, And here, indeed, we find it true. With both the poles at once in view, With latitudes and each degree All measured out on land and sea." Another said, "I thought I knew The world from Maine to Timbuctoo, Or could, without a guide, have found My way from Cork to Puget Sound; But here so many things I find That never dawned upon my mind, On sundry points, I blush to say, I've been a thousand miles astray." "'T is like an egg," another cried, "A little longer than it's wide, With islands scattered through the seas Where savages may live at ease;

And buried up in Polar snows You find the hardy Eskimos; While here and there some scorching spots Are set apart for Hottentots. And see the rivers small and great, That drain a province or a state; The name and shape of every nation; Their faith, extent, and population: And whether governed by a King, A President, or council ring."

While some with such expressions bold Surveyed the globe as 'round it rolled, Still others turned to ink and pen, And, spreading like a brooding hen, They scrawled a page to show the band Their special "style," or "business hand."

The teacher had enough to do, To act his part to nature true: He lectured well the infant squad, He rapped the desk and shook the rod, And stood the dunce upon the stool, A laughing-stock to all the school-- But frequent changes please the crowd, So lengthy reign was not allowed; And when one master had his hour, Another took the rod of power; And thus they changed to suit the case, Till many filled the honored place.

So taken up was every mind With fun and study well combined,

They noticed not the hours depart, Until the sun commenced to dart A sheaf of lances, long and bright, Above the distant mountain height; Then from the schoolroom, in a heap, They jumped and tumbled, twenty deep, In eager haste to disappear In deepest shades of forests near.

When next the children gathered there, With wondering faces fresh and fair, It took an hour of morning prime, According to the teacher's time, To get the books in place once more, And order to the room restore. So great had been the haste to hide, The windows were left open wide; And scholars knew, without a doubt, That Brownies had been thereabout.

THE BROWNIES' RIDE.

ONE night a cunning Brownie band Was roaming through a farmer's land, And while the rogues went prying 'round, The farmer's mare at rest they found; And peeping through the stable-door, They saw the harness that she wore. The sight was tempting to the eye, For there the cart was standing nigh.

"That mare," said one, "deserves her feed-- Believe me, she's no common breed; Her grit is good: I've seen her dash Up yonder slope without the lash, Until her load--a ton of hay-- Went bouncing in beside the bay. In this same cart, old Farmer Gill Takes all his corn and wheat to mill; It must be strong, though rude and rough; It runs on wheels, and that's enough."

Now, Brownies seldom idle stand When there's a chance for fun at hand.

So plans were laid without delay; The mare was dragged from oats and hay, The harness from the peg they drew, And every one to action flew. It was a sight one should behold To see them working, young and old; Two wrinkled elves, like leather browned, Whose beards descended near the ground, Along with youngsters did their best With all the ardor of the rest.

While some prepared a rein or trace, Another slid the bit in place; More buckled bands with all their might, Or drew the harness close and tight.

When every strap a buckle found, And every part was safe and sound, Then 'round the cart the Brownies flew,-- The hardest task was yet to do. It often puzzles bearded men, Though o'er and o'er performed again.

Some held the shafts to steer them straight, More did their best to balance weight, While others showed both strength and art In backing Mag into the cart. At length the heavy job was done, And horse and cart moved off as one.

Now down the road the gentle steed Was forced to trot at greatest speed.

A merrier crowd than journeyed there Was never seen at Dublin Fair. Some found a seat, while others stood, Or hung behind as best they could; While many, strung along, astride, Upon the mare enjoyed the ride.

The night was dark, the lucky elves Had all the turnpike to themselves. No surly keeper barred the way, For use of road demanding pay, Nor were they startled by the cry Of robbers shouting, "Stand or die!" Across the bridge and up the hill And through the woods to Warren's mill,-- A lengthy ride, ten miles at least,-- Without a rest they drove the beast, And then were loath enough to rein Old Mag around for home again.

Nor was the speed, returning, slow; The mare was more inclined to go, Because the feed of oats and hay Unfinished in her manger lay. So through the yard she wheeled her load As briskly as she took the road. No time remained to then undo The many straps which tight they drew. For in the east the reddening sky Gave warning that the sun was nigh.

The halter rope was quickly wound About the nearest post they found; Then off they scampered, left and right, And disappeared at once from sight.

When Farmer Gill that morning fair Came out and viewed his jaded mare, I may not here in verse repeat His exclamations all complete. He gnashed his teeth, and glared around, And struck his fists, and stamped the ground, And chased the dog across the farm, Because it failed to give alarm. "I'd give a stack of hay," he cried, "To catch the rogue who stole the ride!" But still awry suspicion flew,-- Who stole the ride he never knew.

THE BROWNIES ON SKATES.

ONE night, when the cold moon hung low And winter wrapped the world in snow And bridged the streams in wood and field With ice as smooth as shining shield, Some skaters swept in graceful style The glistening surface, file on file. For hours the Brownies viewed the show, Commenting on the groups below;

Said one: "That pleasure might be ours-- We have the feet and motive powers; No mortal need us Brownies teach, If skates were but within our reach." Another answered: "Then, my friend, To hear my plan let all attend. I have a building in my mind That we within an hour can find. Three golden balls hang by the door, Like oranges from Cuba's shore; Behind the dusty counter stands A native of queer, far-off lands; The place is filled with various things,

From baby-carts to banjo-strings;

Here hangs a gun without a lock Some Pilgrim bore to Plymouth rock;

And there a pair of goggles lie, That saw the red-coats marching by;

While piles of club and rocker skates Of every shape the buyer waits! Though second-hand, I'm sure they'll do, And serve our wants as well as new. That place we'll enter as we may, To-morrow night, and bear away A pair, the best that come to hand, For every member of the band." At once, the enterprise so bold Received support from young and old. A place to muster near the town, And meeting hour they noted down; And then retiring for the night, They soon were lost to sound and sight.

When evening next her visit paid To fold the earth in robes of shade, From out the woods across the mead, The Brownies gathered as agreed, To venture boldly and procure.

The skates that would their fun insure. As mice can get to cake and cheese Without a key whene'er they please, So, cunning Brownies can proceed And help themselves to what they need.

For bolts and bars they little care If but a nail is wanting there! Or, failing this, with ease descend Like Santa Claus and gain their end As children to the windows fly At news of Jumbo passing by, So rushed the eager band away To fields of ice without delay.

Though far too large at heel and toe, The skates were somehow made to go. But out behind and out before, Like spurs, they stuck a span or more, Alike afflicting foe and friend In bringing journeys to an end. They had their slips and sudden spreads, Where heels flew higher than their heads, As people do, however nice, When venturing first upon the ice. But soon they learned to curve and wheel And cut fine scrolls with scoring steel, To race in clusters to and fro, To jump and turn and backward go, Until a rest on bed so cool, Was more the wonder than the rule.

But from the lake they all withdrew Some hours before the night was through, And hastened back with lively feet Through narrow lane and silent street, Until they reached the broker's door With every skate that left the store.

And, ere the first faint gleam of day, The skates were safely stowed away; Of their brief absence not a trace Was left within the dusty place.

THE BROWNIES ON BICYCLES.

ONE evening Brownies, peeping down From bluffs that overlooked the town, Saw wheelmen passing to and fro Upon the boulevard below. "It seems," said one, "an easy trick, The wheel goes 'round so smooth and quick; You simply sit and work your feet And glide with grace along the street. The pleasure would be fine indeed If _we_ could thus in line proceed."

"Last night," another answer made, "As by the river's bank I strayed, Where here and there a building stands, And town and country-side join hands, Before me stood a massive wall With engine-rooms and chimneys tall.

"To scale the place a way I found, And, creeping in, looked all around; There bicycles of every grade Are manufactured for the trade; Some made for baby hands to guide, And some for older folk to ride.

"Though built to keep intruders out, With shutters thick and casings stout, I noticed twenty ways or more, By roof, by window, wall and door, Where we, by exercising skill, May travel in and out at will."

Another spoke, in nowise slow To catch at pleasures as they go, And said, "Why let another day Come creeping in to drag away? Let's active measures now employ To seize at once the promised joy. On bicycles quick let us ride, While yet our wants may be supplied."

So when the town grew hushed and still, The Brownies ventured down the hill. And soon the band was drawing nigh The building with the chimneys high.

When people lock their doors at night, And double-bolt them left and right, And think through patents, new and old, To leave the burglars in the cold, The cunning Brownies smile to see The springing bolt and turning key; For well they know if fancy leads Their band to venture daring deeds, The miser's gold, the merchant's ware To them is open as the air.

Not long could door or windows stand Fast locked before the Brownie band; And soon the bicycles they sought From every room and bench were brought. The rogues ere long began to show As many colors as the bow; For paint and varnish lately spread Besmeared them all from foot to head. Some turned to jay-birds in a minute, And some as quick might shame the linnet; While more with crimson-tinted breast Seemed fitted for the robin's nest.

But whether red or green or blue, The work on hand was hurried through; They took the wheels from blacksmith fires, Though wanting bolts and even tires, And rigged the parts with skill and speed To answer well their pressing need. And soon, enough were made complete To give the greater part a seat, And let the rest through cunning find Some way of hanging on behind. And then no spurt along the road, Or 'round the yard their courage showed, But twenty times a measured mile They whirled away in single file, Or bunched together in a crowd If width of road or skill allowed. At times, while rolling down the grade, Collisions some confusion made, For every member of the band, At steering wished to try his hand; Though some, perhaps, were not designed For labor of that special kind.

But Brownies are the folk to bear Misfortunes with unruffled air; So on through rough and smooth they spun Until the turning-point was won. Then back they wheeled with every spoke, An hour before the thrush awoke.

THE BROWNIES AT LAWN-TENNIS.

ONE evening as the woods grew dark, The Brownies wandered through a park. And soon a building, quaint and small, Appeared to draw the gaze of all. Said one: "This place contains, no doubt, The tools of workmen hereabout." Another said: "You're quite astray, The workmen's tools are miles away; Within this building may be found The fixtures for the tennis ground. A meadow near, both long and wide, For half the year is set aside, And marked with many a square and court, For those who love the royal sport. On afternoons assembled there, The active men and maidens fair Keep up the game until the day Has faded into evening gray." "In other lands than those we tread, I played the game," another said, "And proved my skill and muscle stout, As 'server' and as 'striker-out.' The lock that hangs before us there Bears witness to the keeper's care, And tramps or burglars might go by, If such a sign should meet the eye. But we, who laugh at locks or law Designed to keep mankind in awe, May praise the keeper's cautious mind, But all the same an entrance find."

Ere long, the path that lay between The building and the meadow green, Was crowded with the bustling throng, All bearing implements along; Some lugging stakes or racket sets, And others buried up in nets. To set the posts and mark the ground The proper size and shape around, With service-line and line of base, And courts, both left and right, in place, Was work that caused but slight delay; And soon the sport was under way. And then a strange and stirring scene Was pictured out upon the green.

Some watched the game and noted well Where this or that one would excel.

And shouts and calls that filled the air Proved even-handed playing there. With anxious looks some kept the score, And shouted "'vantage!" "game all!" or To some, "love, forty!"--"deuce!" to more. But when "deuce set!" the scorer cried, Applause would ring on every side. At times so hot the contest grew, Established laws aside they threw, And in the game where four should stand, At least a dozen took a hand. Some tangled in the netting lay And some from base-lines strayed away. Some hit the ball when out of place Or scrambled through unlawful space. But still no game was forced to halt Because of this or greater fault.

And there they sported on the lawn Until the ruddy streaks of dawn Gave warning that the day was near, And Brownies all must disappear.

THE BROWNIES' GOOD WORK.