Chapter 1

THE INFANT'S DELIGHT

BLIND MAN'S BUFF.

When the win-ter winds are blow-ing, And we ga-ther glad and gay, Where the fire its light is throw-ing, For a mer-ry game at play, There is none that to my know-ing,-- And I've play-ed at games enough,-- Makes us laugh, and sets us glow-ing Like a game at Blind-man's Buff.

THE DEAD ROBIN.

All through the win-ter, long and cold, Dear Minnie ev-ery morn-ing fed The little spar-rows, pert and bold, And ro-bins, with their breasts so red.

She lov-ed to see the lit-tle birds Come flut-ter-ing to the win-dow pane, In answer to the gen-tle words With which she scat-ter-ed crumbs and grain.

One ro-bin, bol-der than the rest, Would perch up-on her fin-ger fair, And this of all she lov-ed the best, And daily fed with ten-der-est care.

But one sad morn, when Minnie came, Her pre-ci-ous lit-tle pet she found, Not hop-ping, when she call-ed his name, But ly-ing dead up-on the ground.

ALL THINGS OBEY GOD.

"He saith to the snow, Be thou on the earth."

God's works are very great, but still His hands do not ap-pear: Though hea-ven and earth o-bey His will, His voice we can-not hear.

And yet we know that it is He Who moves and governs all, Who stills the rag-ing of the sea, And makes the showers to fall.

Alike in mer-cy He be-stows The sun-shine and the rain; That which is best for us He knows, And we must not com-plain,

Whe-ther He makes His winds to blow, And gives His tem-pests birth, Or sends His frost, or bids the snow-- "Be thou up-on the earth."

SNOW-BALL-ING.

See these mer-ry ones at play, On this snowy New Year's Day: How they run, and jump, and throw Hand-fuls of the soft, white snow. You should hear them laugh and shout As they fling the snow about! 'Tis by Frank and Gus alone That the balls are chief-ly thrown, While their cou-sins make and bring Other balls for them to fling. Ka-tie is pre-par-ing thus, Quite a store of balls for Gus; But her mer-ry sis-ter May From her task has run a-way, All that heavy lump of snow, At her cou-sin Gus to throw. E-dith is not very bold, And at first she fear-ed the cold; Now at last you see her run Down the steps to join the fun.

THE SICK DOLL.

Oh! is there any cause to fear That dol-ly will be very ill? To cure my lit-tle dar-ling here, Pray, doc-tor, use your ut-most skill.

And dol-ly, if you would get well, Hold out your arm, that Dr. Gray May feel your tiny pulse, and tell What best will take the pain a-way.

And do not say: "I will not touch That nas-ty phy-sic, nor the pill." If lit-tle dolls will eat too much, They must not won-der if they're ill.

If your mam-ma ate too much cake, She would be very poor-ly too, And nas-ty phy-sic have to take; And, lit-tle dol-ly, so must you.

NEL-LY'S PET LAMB.

This lit-tle Lamb was brought to Nell The day its old ewe mo-ther died, And, now it knows and loves her well, It will not go from Nel-ly's side. A-long the hall, and up the stair, You hear its lit-tle pat-ter-ing toes: Her Pet will fol-low every-where A-bout the house, where Nel-ly goes.

ROSE'S VA-LEN-TINE.

ROSE.

The post-man has been, dear mam-ma, And has brought me a let-ter so fine; And Su-san has one, but it is not, by far, So pret-ty a let-ter as mine. And, pray, will you read it to me, Mam-ma, if I give you a kiss? I wish very much to know who it can be That has sent me a let-ter like this.

MAM-MA.

To the lot of our dear lit-tle Rose We trust every bless-ing may fall; And this is the prayer and the fond hope of those Who love her most dear-ly of all.

So now, lit-tle Rose, can you guess Who sent you this let-ter by post?

ROSE.

Oh, yes, dear mam-ma, I can tell you; oh, yes! For you, and pa-pa, love me most.

"YOUR HEA-VEN-LY FA-THER FEED-ETH THEM."

God loves His lit-tle birds; for all His ten-der care He shows; A sin-gle spar-row can-not fall But its Cre-a-tor knows.

They do not sow, nor reap the corn, Gar-ner nor barn have they; God gives them break-fast every morn, And feeds them through the day.

And this we know; for in His Word, Where all His ways we read, We find that eve-ry lit-tle bird He cares for, and will feed.

God loves each lit-tle bird; but still More ten-der is His care For chil-dren who o-bey His will, Than for the fowls of air.

PLOUGH-ING.

The lit-tle birds by God are fed But man must earn his dai-ly bread, And work that he may eat; Striv-ing his best, as John does now, The broad ten-acre field to plough, Where-in to sow the wheat.

Old John, the plough-man, ne'er re-pines, Whe-ther it blows, or rains, or shines, But hap-py still does seem; And Dick, who leads the fore-most horse, Goes whist-ling as he walks across The field be-side the team.

Let us per-form as glad-ly, too, The work our Mas-ter bids us do, And then we need not fear; But when from earth-ly toil we rest, We all shall meet a-mong the blest Who served Him tru-ly here.

"HOW IS THE WEA-THER?"

Cold win-ter has come, And the cru-el winds blow-- The trees are all leaf-less and brown; These two pret-ty rob-ins, Oh, where shall they go To shel-ter their lit-tle brown heads from the snow? Just look at the flakes com-ing down.

But see, they have found a snug shel-ter at last, And hark, how they talk, while the storm whis-tles past:

Says Pol-ly to Dick-y, "You're near-est the door, And you are the gen-tle-man, too: Just peep out and see When the storm will be o'er; Be-cause, if the wea-ther's as bad as be-fore, I think we will stay, do not you?"

NAUGH-TY NEL-LY AND HER NEW PA-RA-SOL.

"No, Nel-ly! not to-day, my child! I can-not let you take it; This cold March wind, so strong and wild, Your pa-ra-sol, 'twould break it!"

So said Mam-ma; but Nel-ly thought, "I will take my new pre-sent: Tis mine; to please me it was bought; The wea-ther's bright and plea-sant."

So naugh-ty Nel-ly sli-ly took What kind Mam-ma had bought her, And out she went--and, only look! The wild March wind has caught her!

The silk tore up, the ribs broke out, In spite of Nel-ly's sway-ing; And peo-ple laugh-ed at her, no doubt-- That comes of dis-o-bey-ing.

"THE FLOW-ERS AP-PEAR ON THE EARTH."

(SONG OF SOLOMON, ii. 12.)

Now the win-ter cold is past, And blithe March winds are blow-ing, In shel-ter-ed nooks we find at last Bright flow-ers of spring are grow-ing.

Along the hedge-row's mossy bank, Where ivy green is creep-ing, We see through weeds and net-tles rank The dark-blue vi-o-let peep-ing.

And in the sun-ny gar-den beds Gay a-co-nites are show-ing, And snow-drops bend their grace-ful heads, And cro-cus-es are glow-ing.

God makes the buds and leaves un-fold, All flow-ers are of His giv-ing; He guards them through the win-ter's cold, He cares for all things liv-ing.

JUMP! PUS-SY!

Pus-sy, jump! for all the day You have time e-nough to play; Though at night, in barn and house, You must watch for rat or mouse.

Pus-sy, jump! and if you do, We will pour some milk for you; Pus-sy, you shall be ca-ressed, If you try and jump your best.

BLOW-ING BUB-BLES.

Har-ry and Tom, the o-ther day, Went out in-to the yard to play; Their great de-light, in wea-ther bright, Is blow-ing bub-bles with pipes of clay.

Tom took a ba-sin deep and wide, And Har-ry brought his mug be-side; They fil-led them quite with soap-suds white, And each to blow the big-gest tried.

Poor Tom, he blew with might and main, And so, of course, he blew in vain; For all his trou-ble he made no bub-ble, But Tom was brave and tried a-gain.

Till Har-ry said, "Dear Tom, you see, You blow too hard; now--look at me. There! that will rise to-ward the skies, And float a-bove the li-lac tree."

A-PRIL SHOW-ERS.

"Thou makest the earth soft with show-ers: Thou bless-est the spring-ing there-of."--PSALM lxv. 10.

When A-pril skies be-gin to frown, And the cold rain comes pelt-ing down, We must not grum-ble nor com-plain, Nor i-dly say, we hate the rain.

God sends the rain; the dust-y ground It soft-ens in the fields a-round; The mois-ture ev-e-ry plant re-ceives, And springs a-fresh in flow-ers and leaves.

Should God for-bid the show-ers to fall, Nor send us any rain at all, The ground would all grow hard and dry, And ev-e-ry liv-ing plant would die.

All things would starve and per-ish then-- No food for birds, nor beasts, nor men; Then do not mur-mur, nor com-plain, God, in His good-ness, sends the rain.

"SNAP, BE GOOD!"

"Dear lit-tle Snap, you fun-ny pup, I love to see you beg, So cle-ver-ly do you sit up And bend each slen-der leg, Drop-ping the paw; And raise your ears a-bove your head, Look-ing so very wise; You seem to know I have some bread; And then, such bright green eyes I never saw.

"Your shag-gy coat is long and rough, Your tail is rough-er still; Now, Snap, I think you've had e-nough, And more would make you ill-- In-deed it would. But sis-ter Lot-ty has some cake, And so if you will sit Quite still and good, till I say 'Take!' Then you shall have a bit; So, Snap, be good!"

THE STRAY KIT-TEN.

"Come, Kit-ty, come; you need not fear, Nor make that plain-tive mew; Don't be a-fraid, but ven-ture near, And lap the milk we bring you here, For none will in-jure you.

"And, Kit-ty, since you've lost your way, You need no fur-ther roam; But stop, and dine with us to-day, And then, if you would wish to stay, Poor Kit-ty, here's your home.

"And we will feed you fine and fat, On fresh new milk and nice; And, when you grow to be a cat, You can re-quite us well for that, By catch-ing all the mice."

THE MAY-POLE.

Round the May-pole, on the grass, Mer-ry lit-tle foot-steps pass; In the mid-dle Bes-sie stands, With the May-pole in her hands; While her play-mates dance and sing Round her in an end-less ring. Soon, in-deed, a feast they'll make, Cow-slip tea, with nice plum-cake-- And so our leave of them we'll take.

THE FIRST OF MAY.

The haw-thorn blos-som, snow-y white, Hangs thick upon the hedge to-day; With many flow-ers the fields are bright Upon this mer-ry First of May.

So let us ga-ther flow-er-ets fair, And blos-soms from the haw-thorn spray, To deck our May-pole stand-ing there, Upon this mer-ry First of May.

And then, like fai-ries, in a ring, A-round it we will dance or play, And all our glad-dest songs will sing Upon this mer-ry First of May.

And dear-est Maud shall there be seen With crown of haw-thorn blos-soms gay, And she shall be our lit-tle queen, Upon this mer-ry First of May.

UNI-VER-SAL PRAISE.

See how na-ture now re-joices In this sun-ny month of May; Still to God from all its voices Giv-ing prais-es day by day. In the glad green wood-land al-leys Ev-e-ry bird its an-them trills! While flocks feed-ing in the val-leys, Herds up-on a thou-sand hills, Join with ev-ery crea-ture liv-ing, Here on land, in air, or sea, In one great world-wide thanks-giv-ing, Yield-ing praise, O God, to Thee! All a-round us swells the cho-rus From this good-ly world of ours, And earth's al-tar stands be-fore us Sweet with in-cense from her flow-ers. So, with Na-ture still con-fess-ing His great good-ness, let us pay Grate-ful hom-age for each bless-ing Of this sun-ny month of May.

THE DAN-DE-LION CLOCK.

The dan-de-lion blos-soms gay From the fields have passed away, And in their place left heads of grey. Now, Min-nie, won't it be good fun For each of us to ga-ther one, And sit and blow them in the sun? Very hard we both must blow, And scat-ter all the seeds like snow, That will be 'one o'clock,' you know."

TAK-ING CARE OF BA-BY.

Lit-tle, help-less ba-by dear, While with-in your cot you lie, Sis-ter May is sit-ting near-- She will sing your lul-la-by.

When at last you fall a-sleep, Not the slight-est noise she'll make; Quiet as a mouse she'll keep, Lest she should her dar-ling wake.

May will watch you well, for though She can play and prat-tle too, 'Tis not very long ago Since she was a babe like you.

Then mam-ma o'er lit-tle May Day and night her watch would keep; May her care can now re-pay, Watch-ing ba-by whilst a-sleep.

SUM-MER FLOW-ERS.

"The de-sert shall re-joice, and blos-som as the rose."--ISAIAH XXXV. I.

Be-hold the flow-ers of June! how fair And bright their buds ap-pear, As, open-ing to the sum-mer air, Our eyes and hearts they cheer!

Who would have thought there could a-bound Such beau-ty and de-light Be-neath the cold and win-try ground That hid those flow-ers from sight?

That pow-er which made and governs all-- The might-y pow-er of God-- A-lone could life and beau-ty call Out of the life-less sod.

And He, who from the Win-ter's gloom Can Sum-mer thus dis-close, Shall one day make the de-sert bloom, And blos-som as the rose.

"WHERE'S DICK-EY?"

"Look there!" lit-tle Lot-ty cried, "Dick-ey's cage is o-pen wide, And, I fear, he's not in-side. Cou-sin John, Do please stand up-on this chair, Just to see if he is there. Pret-ty Dick, I won-der where You are gone!

"Naugh-ty puss, your jaws, you lick! Have you eat-en lit-tle Dick? That would be a cru-el trick! No, I see Pret-ty Dick has flown a-way, And is sing-ing blithe and gay, Sit-ting yon-der on a spray Of the tree.

"Well, I too should think it wrong, If a gi-ant, tall and strong, Just to hear my lit-tle song ev-ery day, Shut _me_ in a cage; and yet Thus I did my lit-tle pet--- So he must be glad to get Safe a-way."

PLAY-ING AT OM-NI-BUS.

Says Hu-bert, "Look, how fast it pours! I'm sure we can't go out of doors While it is rain-ing thus; So let us in the nur-se-ry stay, To have a mer-ry game, and play At driv-ing om-ni-bus.

"Flo-ra and Ted-dy, you must be The horses, and be driv-en by me. Mind you go stea-dy--do! A place for Char-lie we shall find; To guard the 'bus he'll ride be-hind, And take the mon-ey too.

"Dick, with pa-pa's old hat to wear, Looks just the thing to be a fare Who wants to ride with us. Jump up, sir! Six-pence all the way! Gee, gee, you horses! Gee, I say!"-- Off goes the om-ni-bus!

GA-THER-ING POP-PIES.

Through the corn the chil-dren creep, Where the nod-ding pop-pies sleep, Fill-ing hands and a-prons white With the scar-let blos-soms bright. Gau-dy pop-pies must not stay Till the fu-ture har-vest day: They would wi-ther when the heat Ri-pens all the gold-en wheat-- Life for them is short and sweet.

ON THE WA-TER.

In our lit-tle boat to glide On the wa-ter blue and wide, While the sky is smooth and bright, What could give us more de-light? See the rip-ples, how they run, Twink-ling bright-ly in the sun; While re-flect-ed we can see Sha-dows of each hill and tree. See the li-lies, round and large, Float-ing near the reed-y marge, Where the bul-rush has its place And the hea-vy wa-ter-mace. See the great green dra-gon-fly, And the swal-low skim-ming by. See the fish-es spring and gleam, Ere they splash in-to the stream, See the bright king-fish-er too Dart a gleam of green and blue. These are all a-round our boat On the wa-ter whilst we float.

HURT-FUL WEEDS.

"Ev-e-ry plant, which My hea-ven-ly Fa-ther hath not plant-ed, shall be root-ed up."--ST. MATT. XV. 13.

Though in the corn that waves a-round Are thorns, and many hurt-ful weeds, That spring in e-ven good-ly ground And plant-ed thick with choic-est seeds;

Though in our hearts, how-e-ver taught And trained to guard them-selves from sin, The good is mixed with evil thought Our en-e-my has sown there-in,

God's plant-ing shall not be o'er-thrown By world-ly weeds that cling a-bout His corn; and what He hath not sown Shall in His time be root-ed out.

Then, that our lives may yield their fruit, Still let it be our con-stant prayer, That God from out our hearts will root All seeds He hath not plant-ed there.

THE BUT-TER-FLY.

A yel-low But-ter-fly one day, Grown tired of play and tired of fly-ing, Up-on a this-tle blos-som grey With out-spread wings was i-dly ly-ing.

The stur-dy bees went hum-ming by, Draw-ing sweet ho-ney from the clo-ver, Nor stir-red the yel-low But-ter-fly, For he was but an i-dle ro-ver.

Two lit-tle girls, named Anne and May, Came by with mirth and laugh-ter ring-ing, Anne ran to seize the in-sect gay-- May fol-low-ed fast and ceased her sing-ing.

"Oh! dar-ling An-nie, let it be, Your touch will rob its plumes of beau-ty; And God, who made both you and me, Has taught us kind-ness is a du-ty."

"GO A-WAY, RO-VER!"

"You big black dog, go, go a-way! I will not let you bite My lit-tle pet; it can-not play, You gave it such a fright!

"I think you want to eat it up Be-cause it is so small, But if you dare to touch my pup For help I mean to call;

"And then pa-pa will bring a stick, And make you run a-way; So, Ro-ver, you had best go quick, And leave us here to play!"

* * * * *

Why, Ro-ver, is quite good and tame-- You need not be a-fraid; He on-ly wants to have a game, You sil-ly lit-tle maid!

THE RUSH PA-RA-SOL.

"Oh, come to the brook, sis-ter Kate, Oh, come with me, Het-ty and Gus, Where rush-es, so long and so straight, Are grow-ing in thou-sands for us!"

Thus cries, to the rest, lit-tle May; And off to the mea-dow go all-- For nurse has just shown her the way Of mak-ing a rush pa-ra-sol.

LU-CY AND AR-THUR.

The day was fine, the sun was hot, So Lu-cy took her pail and spade, And went to find a nice dry spot Where wells and cas-tles might be made.

But all the shore just then was wet, So Lu-cy took off shoes and socks; She knew that nurse would fume and fret If they got spoilt by sand or rocks.

But Ar-thur was so strong and big, He thought that he was quite a man, And he, in boots, would stand and dig, Which proved a very fool-ish plan.

For soon his boots got wet and cold, And hurt his feet, and made him cry; He had to sit and hear nurse scold, While both his boots were put to dry.

THE PRO-VI-DENCE OF GOD.

"The Lord shall give that which is good, and our land shall yield her increase."--PSALM lxxxv. 12.

The seed was sown long months a-go, And, through the win-ter's cold and snow, We trust-ed that God's care would bring The green and ten-der blade in spring, Which che-rished by the sun and rain Of sum-mer, now has yield-ed grain In au-tumn, when the reap-er leaves His cot to cut and bind the sheaves, And load with them the nod-ding wain Which bears them home-ward from the plain.

So God's great mer-cies thus a-bound; His love still brings the sea-sons round; His bless-ings fill our hap-py fields, And all our land its in-crease yields: So if we serve Him as we should, Our Lord will give us all things good; And He who doth the ra-vens feed Much more will give us all we need!

PLAY-ING A-MONG THE SHEAVES.

Oh, who could there be More mer-ry than we, On this bright har-vest morn. As we fro-lic and play, While we hide a-way, A-mong the sheaves of corn?

We may fro-lic still Wher-e-ver we will, But yet we must not tread To waste with our feet The grains of the wheat-- The wheat that makes our bread.

For God, as we need, Gives the corn to feed And make us well and strong; And to waste in vain His gift of the grain Would grieve Him, and be wrong.

KEEP-ING SCHOOL.

Oh, tell me if e-ver you knew A teach-er who looked so se-vere As sis-ter Ma-ri-a can do, When les-sons she's go-ing to hear?

Just look how she holds up her cane And frowns, as she threat-ens each one! But yet they'll not cry or com-plain, Be-cause it is only in fun.

The dunce's cap Dol-ly must wear, Her task was not learnt very well; And now lit-tle Jane, I de-clare, Pre-tends she's un-a-ble to spell.

Yet sis-ter may hold up her cane, And though they'll look so-lemn, each one, From laugh-ter they scarce can re-frain. Be-cause it is only in fun.

SNAP AP-PLE.