Part 2

This is the child so thoughtful and kind Who went to the bin the corn to find; The bin, full of corn so yellow and good (The little gray pigeon's favorite food). That was in the barn which the farmer had filled With hay and grain from the fields he had tilled; The barn near which was the pigeon-house high (Where never a prowling cat could pry) Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest, The nest where the pretty white eggs were found, Her own little eggs so smooth and round That held the wonderful secret.

And when the child threw the corn about, The little gray pigeon came fluttering out From the door of the pigeon-house safe and high, And the child heard a faint little cooing cry,-- A sweet little, wee little murmuring sound; For, instead of the eggs so smooth and round, (Perhaps the wonderful secret you've guessed) Two baby pigeons were in the nest!

THE CHILD AND THE PIGEONS

You dear cooing pigeons, How gladly you fly O'er hilltop and meadow And forest trees high, Far, far away roaming; --And that too, would I!

But ever, dear pigeons, When night shades the sky And home you are coming, As gladly you fly To meet with your loved ones; --And that, too, would I!

Then, cooing together So fondly, you try To tell in what pleasures The day has passed by, Your every joy sharing; --And that, too, would I!

WHO GIVES US OUR THANKSGIVING DINNER?

On Thanksgiving Day little Dorothy said, With many a nod of her wise, curly head, "The cook is as busy as busy can be, And very good, too, for 'tis easy to see She gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner."

"Oh, no! little Dorothy," answered the cook, "Just think of the trouble your dear mother took In planning the dinner and getting for me The things that I cook; so, 'tis Mother, you see, Who gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner."

"Of course it is Mother; I ought to have known," Said Dorothy then, in a satisfied tone. But Mother said, smiling, "You are not right yet; 'Tis Father who gives me the money to get The things for our Thanksgiving Dinner."

But Father said: "I earn the money, 'tis true; But money alone not a great deal can do. The butcher, the grocer, whose things we must buy, Should not be forgotten, for they more than I Will give us our Thanksgiving Dinner."

"Oh! isn't it funny?" said Dorothy, then; "And now, I suppose, if I asked these two men, The grocer, the butcher, about it, they'd say It surely is somebody else and not they Who gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner."

And soon little Dorothy heard with delight That her guess about grocer and butcher was right. The grocer said he only kept in his store What miller and farmer had brought in before To help for the Thanksgiving Dinner.

The jolly old butcher laughed long and laughed loud, "My Thanksgiving turkeys do make me feel proud, And one's for your dinner; but then you must know The turkeys are raised by the farmer, and so He gives you your Thanksgiving Dinner."

"Oh, yes! 'tis the farmer; at last I've found out," Said Dorothy, then, with a glad little shout. "The miller must go to the farmer for wheat, The butcher from him gets the turkeys we eat; Yes!--_he_ gives our Thanksgiving Dinner."

"But yet all the others had something to do; The miller and butcher and grocer helped, too. And then there was Father and Mother and cook. I never before knew how many it took To give us our Thanksgiving Dinner."

So said little Dorothy, full of surprise, And feeling that now she had grown very wise. But what do you think? Had she found it all out? Or was there still more she might learn about Who gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner?

CLOTHES

We people wear so many things, Almost the whole creation It takes our clothing to supply, For use or decoration.

The fishes dress in shining scales Of every gorgeous color; The birds wear pretty feather suits, Some gayer and some duller.

The cat, the dog, the cow, the horse, The squirrel and the rabbit, Wear coats of fur; from small to great, All have the selfsame habit.

But people wear so many things! Almost the whole creation It takes our clothing to supply For use or decoration.

A flannel jacket from the sheep Who spared the wool with pleasure: And from the silkworm ribbons gay. And every silken treasure.

A dress from off the cotton plant. Spun, woven, colored, printed: A breastpin made of fishes' scales. All delicately tinted.

Of tortoise-shell my lady's comb. And many another notion; Her jewels from the mines are brought. Her pearls from depths of ocean.

The golden straws from humble field Are plaited for a bonnet, The feather-coated ostrich gives The plumes we place upon it.

From tropic trees the milky sap Men constantly are getting, And making into rubber shoes To save our feet a wetting:

While boots and shoes of every sort, Of thick or thinnest leather, Are made from skins of animals, Tanned, cut, and sewed together.

Yes, surely, as I said before, Almost the whole creation It takes our clothing to supply, For use or decoration.

[Illustrations]

AT THE POND

A pretty pond there is, all fringed With trees and flowers gay, Where many happy creatures live And many come to play.

The fishes frolic merrily Within its waters cool, And funny little polliwogs Live in the shining pool.

Along the grassy bank the snails And turtles slowly creep; The frogs go splashing in and out With many a sudden leap.

The insects and the merry birds Its shining surface skim; And thirsty cows and horses drink Along its rippling brim.

The water lilies' fragrant cups Upon the wavelets lie, And near them float the stately swans, With proud necks curving high.

And see! here comes the mother duck With all her yellow brood; And here are all the goslings, too, Behind their mother good.

They hurry, scurry, down the bank And in the water go. They dive and splash, and with delight Go swimming to and fro.

And when the children call to them And throw them bits of bread, Geese, ducks, and swans all fearless come And crowd near to be fed.

Oh, yes! the pond's a merry place, So busy and so gay, Where many happy creatures live And many come to play.

THE BALLAD OF THE BUMPTIOUS BOY

"Those crackers are lighted! Be careful! They're going off--_don't_ stand so near!" But the Bumptious Boy heeded no warning, And this is what happened. O dear!

"The ice is thin," said the Policeman. "I advise you, my lad, not to go." But the Bumptious Boy thought _he_ knew better, And skated off proudly. And so--

"Our donkey will not let you ride him-- He's sure to give you a spill!" But the Bumptious Boy only pooh-poohed them, And would not believe them until--

"Look out there! That branch will not hold you! Don't try any higher to climb!" But the Bumptious Boy laughed and climbed higher: That laugh was his last for some time.

Then during a long convalescence The Bumptious Boy thoughtfully thought Of the painful misfortunes and troubles That he on himself oft had brought.

Oh! the cock was first and he loudly crew, And his wings he flapped: "Cock a _doo_dle _doo_!" Then the big dog barked with a "Bow-wow-wow!" And "Moo-_oo_! Moo-_oo_!" bellowed out the cow.

And the pigs were as noisy as they could be With their "Umph, umph, umph!" and their "Wee, wee, wee!" While the lambkins bleated "Ma-_a_! Ma-_a_!" And the sheep replied with a "Ba-a-_a_!"

Then the white geese all, with their necks stretched long And their "_S-s-s!_" joined the noisy throng. And the sleek old ducks, dressed in green and black, Added more noise still as they called "Quack! Quack!"

"Cut-cut _dah_ cut-cut! Cut-cut _dah_ cut!" cried All the hens as they looked at their eggs with pride. But "Cluck-_cluck_! Cluck-_cluck_!" called the old black hen Till she heard "Peep, peep!" from her chicks again.

What a noise it was!--from the cock that crew, From the dog, the cow, and the piggies, too, From the lambs and sheep, from the geese and ducks, From the chicks and hens with their peeps and clucks!

But the baby heard all the sounds with glee. The more loud the noise, why! the more pleased he; And he clapped and shouted and laughed aloud As he heard the noise of the farmyard crowd.

Whenever a drive with the donkey I take, I see the big V that his slanting ears make, And words that begin with a V come to mind, Describing his conduct, no matter what kind.

If Barney is sulky and stubborn and slow, Goes poking along or refuses to go, Or if he is frisky and capers and kicks, Or upsets the cart, or does other bad tricks, I say 'tis no wonder he wears a big V, So Vexing and Vicious a Villain is he!

But when the dear fellow, so pretty and strong, In meek or gay humor trots nimbly along, The V seems to stand for the Virtues he shows, The Vim and Velocity with which he goes-- Our Veteran donkey, more Valued each year, The Vigorous, Valiant, Vivacious old dear!

OLD BARNEY'S LATEST PRANK

One sunny winter morning The air was crisp and still, And snow on snow lay drifted deep On every road and hill.

In cosy stable comfort Stood Barney, groomed and fed: But wistful thoughts of out-of-doors Were in his long-eared head.

"To be a beast of leisure Is elegant, no doubt," Thought Barney, "but it's very dull." Just then he heard a shout,

A battering and banging,-- Then doors were opened wide, And madcap Helen and her chum Rushed noisily inside.

"Where's Barney? Where's the harness? And where's the Barney sleigh? See, Minna, here's our donkey dear, We'll have some fun to-day."

The donkey soon was harnessed, And loud their laughter rang, As up into the outgrown sleigh The jolly comrades sprang.

The sleigh-bells jingled gayly, And many a compliment Did Barney get as o'er the snow At steady pace he went.

"How very good and docile," Said Minna, "Barney is! I never thought he'd settle down, To be as staid as this!"

"He does seem tame," said Helen, "It's very strange to think That he's too old for playing jokes." (Here Barney gave a wink.)

"But what a day for coasting! And isn't this a climb? Just think how we'll spin down the hill-- We'll have the gayest time."

Up, up the hill toiled Barney, The long, steep, slipp'ry road; The sleigh with those substantial girls Was not an easy load.

At last with tugs and straining He reached the very top, And Barney to his great delight Was here allowed to stop.

Here, too, he was unharnessed, As if to have a rest; What work the girls had planned for him Old Barney never guessed.

"He'll follow," said his mistress, "He loves to follow so. He'll chase right on behind the sleigh, As coasting down we go.

"Then when we're at the bottom--" No more did Barney hear. They'd let him follow as he liked, Enough that this was clear.

A push--the sleigh went speeding Adown the coasting place. "Come, Barney! Good old fellow! Come! Come on! You like to chase."

Then nothing loth, old Barney Behind the coasters ran. Thought he, "For girls and donkey too. This is a jolly plan."

"They knew I'd like this scamper; They're kind, I do declare. Some children would have coasted down And left me tied up there."

Full soon they reached the bottom, The girls and Barney too; And Barney learned to his dismay, What now he had to do.

For speedily they hitched him Into the sleigh, and then "Aha! old Barney," shouted they, "Now drag us up again."

In meekness puzzled Barney Submitted to their will. Perhaps this time the girls would drive Right on beyond the hill.

With pulling, tugging, straining, Once more he reached the top, But scarcely long enough to breathe Was he allowed to stop.

The girls with nimble fingers Unhitched him from the sleigh; "Come, Barney! Follow us again," He heard his mistress say.

Well, following was pleasant, So, when they made a start, He scampered after, gay and free, With mischief in his heart.

Yet when they reached the bottom, So staid he looked and meek, That naught seemed farther from his mind Than joke or prank or freak.

"Oh, this is fun!" said Helen, "I'll always coast this way; I hate to trudge back up the hill, And drag the sled or sleigh."

"Yes, that's the worst of coasting, That tedious uphill climb; But Barney saves us all that tug, Let's coast a long, long time."

They meant to harness Barney, And start at once uphill; But Barney thought the time had come His own plan to fulfil.

So, just before his mistress The flying rein could seize, Old Barney gave a sudden leap, Escaping her with ease.

"Whoa, Barney!" shouted Helen, When off he clashed, "Whoa, whoa!" And both the girls chased after him As fast as they could go.

But Barney sped the faster, With feet as swift and light, As if he had grown young again; Soon he was out of sight.

And as he scampered homeward, He thought with gleeful mind Of how he'd turned the joke on them, The girls he'd left behind.

THE END

Transcriber's Note:

Italics are indicated by _underscores_.

Bolds are indicated by =equal signs=.

Small capitals have been rendered in full capitals.

A number of minor spelling errors have been corrected without note.