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Title: Little Mother Goose
Author: Anonymous
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Little Mother Goose" ***
[Illustration]
LITTLE MOTHER GOOSE
[Illustration]
BOSTON
DEWOLFE, FISKE AND CO.
361 and 365 Washington Street
COPYRIGHT, 1895,
BY
ALPHA PUBLISHING COMPANY.
_All rights reserved._
FATHER PORCUPINE AND THE ORANGES.
[Illustration]
One day Father Porcupine was out hunting food. He came to a tree in which
sat a lot of monkeys eating oranges. He asked for some, but the unkind
monkeys only pelted him with the fruit as hard as they could! Then
Father Porcupine laughed and put up his quills, and the oranges stuck on
them. When his quills were stuck full he started for home, and he and his
family had a fine dinner.
BABYLAND
THE PLEASANT SPOT.
[Illustration: THE PLEASANT SPOT.]
There was a “pleasant spot” in Mrs. Hall’s parlor, and every day at just
three o’clock in the afternoon, if they had been perfectly good children,
little Dick and Fanny Hall could go in and sit in that place an hour, and
nobody else could go there at that time. The “pleasant spot” was under
the green palm tree.
If they had behaved well, Dick and Fanny always went to their mother at
ten minutes of three to be made as “sweet as roses.” But if they had been
naughty they never went.
What did they do in the “pleasant spot?” They told each other stories,
and they themselves made the stories.
Fanny’s stories were very short ones, such as this:
“One day a little small new small small baby-girl fly went into
a rose, an’ her mama was not looking, an’ she los’ her way in
the rose’s leaves an’ never comed out, an’ that little girl-fly
never saw her mama any more, never, never, never again, Dicky.”
Dicky’s stories were short too, and such as this one:
“Sometimes, when little boys have a toy train, just a tin one,
and they are playing with it, it turns into a live train, and
the engine puffs out live smoke, and live people travel in it.
But if their fathers and mothers look, or anybody, it is a tin
train. And this is a fairy story, Fanny.”
Or like this one, which Dicky said was a “nadventure:”
“One time, when three little boys went up the mountain, they
set their lunch basket down on the tip-top. In about two
minutes they heard a noise at their basket, and a chipmunk
stood there, and the chipmunk had one of their cookies in his
paws!”
_M. Dunleath._
[Illustration: THE NIMBLE PENNIES.
Draw a small circle around a small cent, a large circle around a
large copper cent (or a two-cent piece, or a silver quarter), as in
the designs—and then in a twinkling you will have a picture of a baby
hen—that is, a chicken.]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
I stands for me, because my name is Ink;
And _why_ it’s so you’ll surely never think,
Until you see the black,
Black spot upon my back—
And _then_ you’ll know just why, as quick as wink!
_P. S. C._
THE MOON AND I.
(_A Midnight Dialogue._)
SCENE: A Nursery at night; a wakeful baby sitting up in its crib; the
full moon shining in at the window.
[Illustration: BABY BEE AND THE MOON.]
The Moon said to me:
“Baby Bee, Baby Bee,
Why aren’t you asleep in your bed?
When I am a-light
You know it is night;
So down with your bad little head!”
I said to the Moon,
With a coo and a croon:
“O, beautiful Moon up so high!
Don’t tarry afar—
Let’s see what you are!
Come down from your perch in the sky!”
The Moon said to me:
“Baby Bee, Baby Bee,
When I was an infant like you,
I put out my light
At eight every night
To let people know I was _new_.”
I said to the Moon,
With a coo and a croon:
“Dear Moon, I’ve no doubt you are right;
I freely admit
The wisdom and wit
Of one so exceedingly bright.”
The Moon said to me:
“Baby Bee, Baby Bee,
Then _why_ don’t you shut up your eyes
And sleep as you ought,
And as you’ve been taught?
What folly to act otherwise!”
I said to the Moon,
With a coo and a croon:
“Pray how can I sleep when in truth,
O, Moon, though I try,
I _can’t_ shut an eye!
O, Moon, I am cutting a tooth!”
The Moon said to me:
“Baby Bee, Baby Bee,
I judged you a little too soon.
You poor little dear!
I wish you were here
Where we never cut teeth,” said the Moon.
_Pax Prescott._
GOSLING GOOSE’S QUESTION.
“Why need I turn in my toes?” cried out Gosling Goose one day. “Little
boys don’t, and I think it’s why they can run faster than we!”
[Illustration]
Mrs. Goose smiled; but Mr. Goose said, “Goslings should be seen and not
heard!”
BABYLAND
“KEECOO CARL.”
“Mama, give me a keecoo,” said Carl.
“My child, there isn’t a cookie in the house,” said Mama.
“Do you _wis’_ you had some?” asked Carl, planting his chubby elbows in
Mama’s lap.
“Indeed I do,” said Mama. “I certainly do wish that when Bridget went,
she had left something in the house to eat!”
Five minutes later, Carl, with his mama’s large travelling bag on his
arm, closed the back gate behind him, and trudged down the street.
A “lovely lady” that Carl knew lived in the first house round the corner,
and he walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
The lady herself came to the door.
“Please give Carl keecoo. Bwidget’s gone, and us haven’t one fing in the
house to eat,” and Carl extended the open bag to his astonished friend.
“Bless your heart!” she said, drawing her little friend in, and when he
left he had ten cookies in his bag. She certainly was a “lovely lady” but
Carl wished she hadn’t smiled so much with her eyes.
A little further on, another lady lived who often called to see mama, and
Carl gave her door-bell a pull. This time a maid came, and Carl was shown
into the parlor.
When Mrs. Lee came in and heard Carl’s errand she, too, “smiled,” and
into his bag went eight _beautiful_ doughnuts.
Three or four more friends were visited, and at every place Carl’s bag
grew heavier.
With a happy heart he hurried home, and bursting into the sitting-room
he excitedly empties the contents of his bag into mama’s lap.
There were cookies, yellow and brown, of all shapes and sizes, and
doughnuts both round and square.
_“Carl! Where in the world”_—began mama.
“Yesh, isn’t you glad?” interposed Carl. “They was all gibbed to me for
_you_, and every buddy sent their love!”
This is how “Keecoo Carl” came by his name.
_Carrie A. Griffin._
[Illustration]
A rattle is enough for me,
For I can make as much noise,
With my own mouth and fists and heels,
As babies with lots of toys!
_P. S. C._
LITTLE SALLY’S ANIMAL STORY.
“Do you know any stories?” was the first thing Jimmy said to his little
cousin visitor.
“I do,” said Sally, smiling. “What kind do you like best?”
“All the kinds,” said Jimmy promptly. “Do you know any about animals?”
[Illustration: JIMMY AND SALLY.]
“I do,” said Sally. “I know a first-rate one about my own cat.”
“Tell it, now,” said Jimmy.
“I will,” said Sally. “I will begin it right now.”
Jimmy came around in front where he could “see every word.” “Begin!” said
he.
“I am beginning,” said Sally. “My cat is just as old as I am. We were
kittens together. Mama says she used to rock us in the cradle. One of the
first things I remember, Jimmy, is my cat. She is a very big gray cat
with a ringed coon tail.”
“Got a name?” asked Jimmy.
“She has. Big Betsey. Big Betsey goes to the country in summer. Mama
wouldn’t think of leaving her behind to look out for herself. And we
think, Jimmy, that Big Betsey always knows on what day we shall start.
We think, Jimmy, that she understands a great many words that we say.
“Last summer she had a very smart handsome kitten, a great pet with us
all, and we think Big Betsey understood us when we said we did not think
the kitten could be taken too. The morning we were to start, when Mama
went upstairs, there in one of the trunks lay Big Betsey’s kitten, and
there Big Betsey stood packing her as nicely as possible, standing up on
her back feet and tucking her in with her paws! Did you ever hear of such
a thing, Jimmy?”
“No,” said Jimmy, “I didn’t. Did the kitten go?”
“She did,” said Sally.
“In the trunk? O, I hope she did—_please_, cousin Sally, please say she
did!” entreated Jimmy.
[Illustration: MY KITTY SHALL GO!]
“She’d have smothered, Jimmy, all locked in where she couldn’t get any
fresh air to breathe. She and Big Betsey went in a basket, and had part
of my seat. This is The End, Jimmy.”
“It’s a very nice animal story,” said Jimmy.
_M. Dunleath._
THE BIG NIGHT BIRDS.
(MARCHING PLAYS FOR NURSERY AND KINDERGARTEN.)
[Illustration: Mother recites or sings each verse; children sing
_tu-whit_ refrain. A pair of big disks to surround the eyes adds much to
the pleasure of the “owls”, easily made of common crimped paper. A pair
of tufts, to stand up like the feather “horns” of certain species, may
also be worn.
1. Children march with mother behind pointing at them and singing.
2. Children stand, arms pressed close to side, eyes closed, shoulders
drawn up, mother behind pointing.]
Behold the round-eyed Owls!
The puffed-up feathery birds
That cry out in the night
And speak these two odd words:
_Tu-whit, tu-whoo! tu-whit, tu-whoo!_
Light scares these big-eyed birds;
They go and hide all day;
They sit in hollow trees;
Disturbed, they hiss and say:
_Tu-whit, tu-whoo! tu-whit, tu-whoo!_
[Illustration: 3. Children slowly circle room, arms stretched out wide,
heads inclining forward, mother behind, pointing.
4. Children circle room as before; mother behind, tiptoe, joyous, with
tossing, soaring, wavering arm movements.
5. Mother waves her arms backward repeatedly. Children circle, away to
their seats, arms extended horizontally as before, repeating refrain
until seated.]
But out they fly at night;
They come round many a house;
All noiselessly they sail,
A-watch for mole or mouse.
_Tu-whit, tu-whoo! tu-whit, tu-whoo!_
They never fly for joy,
And soar about the sky
They sail, and pounce, and sail—
These Owls with their strange cry:
_Tu-whit, tu-whoo! tu-whit, tu-whoo!_
Back to your hollow tree,
You birds that have no song!
No child would like to be
An Owl for very long.
_Tu-whit, tu-whoo! tu-whit, tu-whoo!_
[Illustration: THE NIMBLE PENNIES.
Draw two circles, a small one at the top, a large one below and behind
it, as in the first two designs. Draw around a small cent and a large
copper cent (or two-cent piece, or silver quarter). Add two tiny circles
for eyes, then the lines in the following designs, and finally you will
have a spring lamb with a tinkling bell.]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
(_Lilybud to herself._)
“O, the bestest dood time I’ve had all alone,
A-playin’ wiv _such_ a shiny black stone—
(_Lilybud to mama._)
“But, mama! oh, mama! come quick—I dess,
I dess I have dot sumfin bad on my dwess!”
_P. S. C._
THE HOUSE MOUSE
(_Mother, or teacher sings_:)
[Illustration: 1. A child comes lightly about the room with hippity-hop
step.
2. Several children come out and hippity-hop about swiftly and gaily.]
Sometimes a child at night
Awakes from slumber sweet,
And seems to hear the step
Of fleeing elfin feet.
(_Child sings_:)
’Tis I, the merry Mouse,
The little bright-eyed Mouse
That dwells within the house!
Tis I! ’tis I! ’tis I!
(_Mother sings_:)
A rush as of a troop!
A scamper in the walls!
A scurry in the floors!
Then perfect silence falls.
(_Children, pausing, sing_:)
’Tis we, the merry Mice!
’Tis we, the frolic Mice
All scudding in a trice!
’Tis we! ’tis we! ’tis we!
(_Mother sings:_)
A merry sprite it is!
Yet children fear the Mouse,
The Mouse that joys like them
To dwell within the house!
(_Children sing, joining hands, dancing in a round:_)
We do! each merry Mouse,
Each little tricksy Mouse;
We like the cosey house,
We do! we do! we do!
[Illustration: 3. Children hippity-hop around in pairs, joyously.
4. Children hippity-hop about gently.]
(_Mother sings:_)
And dainty is the Mouse!
What children like, it eats!
It chooses grains and fruits,
And has a tooth for sweets.
(_Children sing, dancing in a round:_)
Then do not fear the Mouse,
The dainty merry Mouse
That shares your cosey house;
O, no! no, no! no, no!
BABYLAND
THE KIND LITTLE CAT.
Miss Howells has told the story of Posy Pinkham’s cat that dreamed. This
is a story of two other cats Posy had.
The cats were sisters. Their names were Fluff and White-face. Fluff was a
gentle milk cat. White-face was a fierce mouser. White-face would often
bite and claw her sister, but Fluff never bit and clawed back.
Once, however, Fluff bit and clawed first, and there was a fight, and
Fluff—but that’s the story.
Papa Pinkham had caught a gray mouse in the wire cage-trap. It was so
cunning Posy begged to keep it, and Papa Pinkham left it in the cage-trap
and went off to business. Posy fed the mouse with five kernels of corn,
and then went to dress her doll Lilybell for breakfast.
[Illustration: FLUFF ALSO ADMIRES THE MOUSE.]
Fluff had been looking on. Now she went close up to the cage and sat
down.
Just then White-face came creeping, creeping up, in the way of
mouse-hunting cats.
“Hush,” she whispered to Floss; “there’s a mouse; see me catch it!”
[Illustration: THE FIGHT.]
“No,” whispered Floss, “it’s such a cunning mouse, so soft and smooth,
such bright little eyes, such a long slim tail—no, don’t.”
“I shall, I say!”
“No, you mustn’t—besides, it is Posy’s mouse.”
“I don’t care, I want it!”
[Illustration: UP THE TREE.]
Just then the mouse moved so its tail came through the wires. White-face
sprang, but Floss sprang quicker, not at the tail, but at her fierce
sister.
White-face was very angry; she bit and clawed terribly; she scratched
Floss across the face—but Floss fought on.
At last White-face got away, and ran out the door and up a tree. Floss
chased her and nipped the tip of her tail as she climbed. Then she ran
back to the house, and told Posy all about it.
[Illustration: WEARING THE RIBBON.]
Posy hugged the kind little cat, and tied a beautiful ribbon about her
neck, and told her she was brave as a lion, and kind as—as—a little girl!
But White-face got no ribbon, and no praise—and she was so scared she
staid up in the tree all day.
_C. P. Stuart._
The Wild Hare
[Illustration: The children in this play wear long brown tissue paper
rabbit ears, made over wire and tied around the head by a ribbon.]
(_Mother sings:_)
Now this must be a bunny!
I know it by its ears!
Those gentle wildland creatures,
Such timid pretty dears!
(_Child sings:_)
O, yes, I am a bunny!
I’ve seen you as you pass
My little hidden bower
Built in the wildland grass.
(_Mother sings, seeking to capture child_:)
Pray let me catch you, bunny!
O, let me, rabbit dear,
And take you to the children—
Nay, bunny, do not fear!
(_Child sings, springing away in little leaps_:)
I am a free wild bunny!
To catch me who shall dare!
I am no timid rabbit rabbit—
I am a wild swift hare!
[Illustration: 1. & 2. Child comes out and slowly hops about, with little
leaps and springs.]
[Illustration: 3. Other “hares” come hopping down the room. Child pauses
in rabbit attitude and is joined by the others.]
(_Mother sings, following after child_:)
Nay, bunny, stop and listen,
And tell me many things!
Say, is a hare’s life pleasant?
But no—away it springs!
Stop, stop, and tell me, bunny,
Where stay you when night comes?
(_Child sings_:)
O, all the great green wildland
Is full of little homes!
(_Mother sings_:)
And tell me, pretty bunnies,
What do you have to eat?
(_Children sing_:)
O, twig and leaf and berry
Are bunny’s bread and meat.
(_Mother sings, shuddering_:)
But oh! the owls and foxes
That hunt you for their prey!
(_Children sing, springing away_:)
Then on our leaping long-legs
We bunnies streak away!
[Illustration: 4. Children circle room to seats.]
THE FOURTH OF JULY.
[Illustration: THE GREAT SAND FORT.]
Two little tots were out at play—
And it was Independence Day;
One said, “I wis’ us bofe was boys!
I do dess feel bang-full of noise!”
The other tossed her little head;
“O dirls is dess as dood,” she said;
“We’ll build a gwate big fort of sand
To guard dis gwate Amer’can land!”
They built and built without a stop;
And when ’twas done, right at the top
Their little flag they grandly flew,
And cheered the old red, white and blue.
All worn, all torn, a playhouse rag,
To them it was their country’s flag!
“Hoowaw for Independence Day!
Hoowaw!” they cried, and ran away.
_Ella Farman Pratt._
[Illustration: THE NIMBLE PENNIES.
Draw a small circle (around a small cent), then a large circle directly
below and behind it (around a large copper cent, or two-cent piece, or
silver quarter), as in the first and second designs. Then add the lines
in the following designs, and a big lion will sit staring at you.]
The Robins
I.
(_A child is heard singing “Chee-ree! Cheer-up.” Looking about, this way
and that, mother sings._)
O, hark! that was a robin!
I know his note of cheer!
I’ve heard the dear “first robin,”
And know that spring is here!—_O, hark!_
(_Child enters, singing._)
Chee-ree, cheer-up! cheer-up, chee-ree!
Cheer, cheer-you-up! cheer-you-up!
II.
(_Mother sings._)
And fast new robins follow,
New robins every day!
O, hark, and hear them whistle
Their cheerful, joyful lay!—_O, hark!_
(_Children enter, singing robin refrain._)
III.
(_Mother sings._)
These pretty, singing red-breasts
Are trustful little dears;
They come and build their dwellings
By ours, and feel no fears.—_O, hark!_
(_Children sing robin refrain._)
[Illustration: NEST WEAVING.—Children, while marching, press the tips of
the eight fingers together, then separate them with a downward circular
movement, and bring them together again. The action is then reversed and
repeated.]
[Illustration: March with hops, stops, sudden starts and runs and
tippings of the head.
Child leaves other robins with soaring lift of arms; then drooping
hovering movements of hands.
March with robin steps—hops and runs—to seats.]
IV.
(_Mother sings_.)
They go about the garden,
And stroll upon the grass,
And perk their little black caps
Up at us as they pass.—_O, hark!_
(_Children sing robin refrain._)
V.
(_Mother sings._)
There flies a mother robin
Up in the apple tree!
See! o’er a nest she hovers
Where her wee birdlings be.—_O, hark!_
(_Children sing robin refrain._)
VI.
(_Mother sings._)
Of all the birds, dear robin,
’Tis you are loved the best,
Because you have, sweet robin,
A warm heart in your breast.—_O, hark!_
(_Children sing robin refrain._)
[Illustration: THE NIMBLE PENNIES.
Draw a small circle (around a small cent), and a large circle below and
behind it (around a large copper cent, or two-cent piece, or silver
quarter), as in the first two designs. Add eyes, mouth, legs and feet, as
in the other designs, and a fat frog will smile up at you.]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
I’s a-runnin’ away,
I is, I is;
I’s a-goin’ to stay,
I is, I is,
Wiv my gamma all day,
I is, I is!
_M. Dunleath._
The Butterflies
A few slight changes, such as “I am a butterfly” for first line, will fit
the song to be sung by one child instead of several. The suitable changes
will suggest themselves to mother or teacher. A butterfly-look may be
given to the little ones by wings of tissue paper fastened between the
shoulders, or even by broad bows of wide, gay-colored ribbon.
[Illustration: Children enter singing and circle about a table of
flowers.]
We airy Butterflies
We come in sunny hours,
We fairy Butterflies
We come when come the flowers.
We dainty Butterflies
We feed on honey new
At every opening flower,
And drink of morning dew.
[Illustration: Children flit about at pleasure.
Children meet, touch hands, then “float” airily away.
Circle around the room and away.]
We hover o’er the fields
Like flowers of the grass,
As on our colored wings
We pause, and poise, and pass—
Winged flowers that rise and soar
And weave a dance so fair,
And float at last away
Upon the sunny air.
We airy Butterflies
We go with summer hours,
We fairy Butterflies
We go when go the flowers.
But we shall come again
With all the merry May,
And we again shall help
To make the great world gay
JANIE’S PONY.
Little Janie came up to her big brother. She laid her little thin hand on
his book. “Charlie, I wish I had something nice and new to play with,”
she said to him.
“All right,” said Charlie, laying down his book. “You shall have it. What
shall it be?”
Little Janie had been very ill a long time, and now everybody was very
kind to her, very patient. Poor little Janie!
“Well,” said Janie, “I wish I had a pony to ride.”
“All right,” said the big brother, “you shall have him, in just twenty
minutes. I will come in just twenty minutes and get you.” And off he went.
In about twenty-two minutes he was back again. First he blindfolded
Janie. Then he took her in his arms and carried her away. Then he set her
down on—a pony. Then he took off the “blindfold.” And then little Janie
laughed. It was indeed a very, very funny pony on which little Janie sat.
_Laura Howells._
[Illustration: THE PONY CHARLIE MADE.]
A RHYME OF A KITTEN.
[Illustration: MY KITTEN.]
This is a rhyme about my kitten,
The prettiest kitten that ever purred.
I’ll write all about her that _can_ be written,
And you may believe it, every word.
On each fore-paw is a soft white mitten;
On each hind-paw is a black fur boot;
And as for the rest, this dainty kitten
Wears an elegant silky striped suit.
All through the summer, this sprightly kitten
Brought me the spoils of her grace and skill:
A gay green grasshopper she had lit on,
A tiny toad from the side of the hill.
And once this in-con-sid-er-ate kitten,
While I was taking a two-minute nap,
Brought a small brown mouse that she had bitten,
And came and jumped right into my lap!
But when comes winter, this idle kitten,
Forgetting her hunts mid hill and grove,
Will cover her nose with one white mitten,
And sleep all day behind the stove!
_Eleanor W. F. Bates._
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER I.—The Baby’s Danger._
[Illustration: THE OLD WHITE MANSION.]
There was a day in her baby-life that little Mary Ellen always spoke of
as “my first day.”
“It was when I was a little crib-baby, a little bye-o-baby, you know,”
Mary Ellen would say.
Mary Ellen meant it was the first day she could remember.
She remembered it by two things—it was the first time she ever heard her
pretty mama scream, and the first time she ever got her little hands into
the fur of a cat.
Mary Ellen was in her crib, in the pretty baby-room of the big white
mansion, called “The House of the Grandmothers.” A pink rosebush was
growing in a blue-and-white pot, a yellow canary hung in the window,
and the sunshine was streaming in over everything. Mary Ellen was lying
awake, looking at the pretty window, when all at once something made her
turn her eyes.
There, on the foot-rail, sat some beautiful, furry, bright-eyed
creatures, looking at her, and making the most lovely noise. She smiled
at them, saying, “goo-goo-goo.” At that, one of them hopped down on the
quilt, then came closer, blinking its green eyes and still making the
lovely noise. Mary Ellen’s tiny body gave a quick little spring, and—O,
delightful!—her hands grabbed into the soft warm fur of a kitty.
Then came the scream, and mama with it, both through the open door.
“Dick! mercy! come quick! scat! scat!”
Not only papa came, but the two grandmamas and one of the
great-grandmothers, all four looking scared.
“They were right on the foot-rail of her crib—the three tiger-cats,”
gasped mama, “and one had jumped down on her! I don’t much think they’ve
scratched her, but they might have—just think of it, Dick!”
Papa Dick smiled. “Awful!” said he. “No doubt, Nan, they came in
purposely to eat your baby up!”
The grandmothers smiled too. “Nan! as if our cats would hurt Mary Ellen!”
said the youngest grandmother.
“Well, you can all laugh,” said Mama Nan, “but I think six cats are much
too many in a house where there’s a baby.”
[Illustration: THE TIGER CATS.]
“Six cats _is_ rather many,” laughed papa, “but then there are six
grandmothers, too, you know, to keep them off.”
_Ella Farman Pratt._
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER II.—Mary Ellen’s Birthday Celebration._
There were two or three other events in her baby days that little Mary
Ellen always wished she could remember.
[Illustration: THE BIG CAT-BASKET.]
One was her first birthday celebration. It was not like any that any
other little baby ever had. Little Mary Ellen had a birthday when she was
six months old!
The youngest of the four great-grandmothers, Mrs. Persis, was talking one
day with Madam Esther, the next-to-the-oldest great-grandmother. “It is
time Nan’s baby had some kind of a celebration,” said she. “Why not let
her have a birthday the day she is six months old?”
“Who ever heard of such a thing!” Madam Esther gasped.
“Why, _we_ have!” laughed Grandmother Lee, Mary Ellen’s father’s mother.
“All we six here have heard of it, hav’n’t we, just this very minute?”
“Well, this _is_ an idea,” said Grandmother Camp, Mary Ellen’s mother’s
mother. “A birthday at six months old! Still, if we choose, what is to
prevent? I’ll ring for Nan.”
They were all in Miss Persis’ room, the large southwest corner room,
in their rocking-chairs, sitting in the sun. The cats lay in the big
cat-basket, basking in the golden warmth.
When Mama Nan came in, her mother told her the plan. “Did I ever hear
anything so absurd!” cried Mama Nan.
Papa Dick said, “Why not?” and helped the plan on.
So Mary Ellen had the celebration. It was held in Mrs. Persis’ sunny
sitting-room, and she was taken in in her best embroidered robe and blue
ribbons with a pink rose stuck in each bow, and the cats had new blue
ribbons with rosebuds tied in—and what do you think was the center-piece
on the tea-table?
Why, Mary Ellen herself, on a pink sofa pillow, nestled in among the big
lace ruffles!
And her birthday presents? Six white sugar-candy doves. And when, one by
one, they were held up to her face to see, what do you think Mary Ellen
did? At the last dove she put out her little pink tongue on its white
breast and had her first taste of candy.
[Illustration: MARY ELLEN AND THE CANDY DOVE.]
It was a beautiful time, and too bad it was little Mary Ellen couldn’t
ever remember it!
_Ella Farman Pratt._
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER III.—Mary Ellen’s Christmas and New-Year’s._
Two other celebrations followed little Mary Ellen’s birthday as fast as
possible. Mary Ellen’s mama said the baby’s six grandmothers made her
dizzy with their frolicsome plans.
[Illustration: THE SIX STOCKINGS.]
But Christmas was coming, and certainly a baby’s first Christmas must be
celebrated.
Great-grandmother Day, one of Mary Ellen’s father’s grandmothers, said
one day to Mama Nan, “I suppose Mary Ellen has six stockings?”
“Why, yes, I suppose so—why do you ask?”
“You may hang them for her Christmas Eve,” said the venerable lady.
“Stockings have never been hung in this house, but Mary Ellen probably
will have to be indulged.”
Great-grandmother Day was the oldest of the four great-grandmothers.
She was a very dignified old lady, and wore steel-bowed spectacles and
carried a snuff-box in her pocket with a vanilla bean in it, and was
treated with the greatest respect throughout the house.
Christmas Eve, six baby socks hung in a row in the nursery, and what do
you think was in them next morning?
Six tiny packages, just alike. There were six fifty-dollar bank notes.
Each was labelled: “_To be kept for Mary Ellen’s wedding-dress._”
Mary Ellen’s mama looked as if she would cry. Papa Dick said, “I wonder
what these grandmothers will do next!”
Mary Ellen’s next celebration was on New-Year’s Day. Nothing would do but
that the Baby must make New-Year’s calls. Her mama feared she might take
cold from “drafts,” being carried in and out of so many rooms, but Papa
Dick said, “O, bundle her up!”
So New-Year’s morning Mary Ellen was dressed in her long white cashmere
cape-cloak and her white velvet hood, and was carried about the house,
up stairs and down, to call on her grandmothers in their own rooms.
She was quite equal to the occasion. She said, “Da-da, da-da!” (“Happy
New-Year!”) to each and every one who took her mite of a hand, and came
home to her crib with something shut fast in her fingers her mama did not
see at all!
_Ella Farman Pratt._
[Illustration: MAKING NEW-YEAR’S CALLS.]
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER IV.—Mary Ellen’s Midnight Adventure._
What it was Mary Ellen had in her soft little pink hand when she came
back from the New-Year’s calls and still had in it when she was laid in
her “cribsie-nest” New-Year’s night, nobody knew.
[Illustration: “DON’T YOU SMELL PEPPERMINT?”]
It was small and round and flat and smooth. Mary Ellen hardly felt it,
and as the hand of a little baby mostly keeps itself shut very tight it
did not drop out, and by and by it grew just the least bit sticky and
staid fast.
To be sure, when Mama Nan was undressing her and putting on her nightgown
she suddenly began to sniff. “I seem to smell peppermint,” she said, and
dipped her nose down among Mary Ellen’s ruffles. Then she lifted her head
and sniffed all about in the air in the funniest way. “If she were not
mine,” she said, “I should certainly say somebody had been giving this
child peppermint! Come here, Dick! Don’t you smell peppermint? Put your
head down here!”
Papa Dick put his nose down in Mary Ellen’s ruffles and sniffed. He said
it did seem as if he got a whiff of peppermint, but perhaps babies always
smelt of peppermint.
“Of course she _hasn’t_ had any,” Mama Nan said at last, and they went
out and left the baby to her dreams, and the baby said nothing. The
little hand staid shut, and she went to sleep.
[Illustration: HE FLASHED UP THE NIGHT LAMP.]
That night, suddenly, just as the nursery clock began striking twelve,
there was an outcry from the crib, so sharp, so painful, that it brought
Mama Nan to her feet in the millionth part of a second. Papa Dick, too!
He flashed up the night lamp and then there was a second scream, from
Mama Nan, and she dropped in a heap by the crib. As for Papa Dick, his
hair stood on end. He dashed at the crib and snatched a small mouse,
a live mouse but ever so little, from Mary Ellen’s fingers that were
clutching it tight. In his horror he flung it into the water-pitcher.
Then he flung the water, some of it, and the mouse with it, into Mama
Nan’s face, for she had fainted; and the mouse leaped from Mama Nan’s wet
cheek and ran for his life.
The next minute both were bending over Mary Ellen. Her big blue eyes,
full of tears, were just shutting to sleep again. A tiny pink peppermint
lay on the crib quilt. Mama Nan pounced on it. “What did I tell you!” she
cried.
Papa Dick was examining the warm little hand. It was very sticky and
sugary. There was a tiny red spot, like a pin-prick, on one side of the
palm. “The mouse was after the candy,” said he, “and she just shut her
fingers on him when he bit—hurrah for our baby, Nan!”
“_Bit!_” screamed Nan, and for a moment she looked as if she might faint
again. “Old Lady Lois must have given it to her when we were upstairs
to-day—she is forever eating peppermints! I should think she would have
known better!”
But dear Old Lady Lois, who truly was as fond of sweets as a child, had
not given her the peppermint. She had dropped it on her lap and little
Mary Ellen’s hand had chanced to close over it, and had brought it home.
_Ella Farman Pratt._
[Illustration]
London Bridge is falling down—
Hurry through!
London Bridge has fallen down—
And—caught—you!
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER V.—Mary Ellen’s Grandmothers._
The Grandmothers were in Mrs. Persis’ room. Large and sunny, it was the
favorite sitting-room, and the big cat-basket was generally kept there.
As usual they were all doing something for Mary Ellen. Grandmama Camp was
embroidering on a little petticoat. The others were embroidering too, or
crocheting, except the oldest two of the great-grandmothers. Mrs. Day was
knitting a yarn stocking about the size for a little girl of six, Old
Lady Lois was pasting colored pictures in a scrap-book.
They were talking of the child. “I often wonder how she is ever going to
know us apart,” Grandmama Lee was saying. “Six of us!”
Mrs. Persis laughed. “Poor baby! who ever before heard of six
grandmothers in one house! just how she will learn to tell us apart _is_
a question!”
[Illustration: “MRS. PERSIS.”]
“I never thought we resembled one another,” remarked Great-grandmother
Day.
No, they did not.
[Illustration: MRS. CAMP AND OLD LADY LOIS.]
There was Grandmama Lee, and Great-grandmother Lee who was called “Mrs.
Persis,” and Great-grandmother Day. These three belonged to Papa Dick
and had lived in the house ever since he could remember. Grandmama Lee,
Papa Dick’s mother, was young and plump and smiling, with nut-brown hair
waving over her forehead—a very nice grandmother. Great-grandmother Lee,
“Mrs. Persis,” was roly-poly with a double chin, puffs of white hair,
bright eyes, and any of the cats sat on her shoulder when they liked.
Great-grandmother Day was the one who walked with a cane and wore caps.
Grandmama Camp and Great-grandmother Camp and Great-grandmother Gray who
was called “Old Lady Lois,” belonged to Mama Nan, and when Papa Dick
married her he brought them all home to his own house. He said he liked
the idea. Mrs. Camp, Mama Nan’s mother, was a young, handsome, stylish
woman with black hair and black eyes. Great-grandmother Camp, called
“Madam Esther,” was tall and also had black hair and black eyes. “Old
Lady Lois,” Mrs. Gray, was quite a beautiful old lady. She had a sweet
face, and always wore a flower in her soft white mull kerchiefs.
“I think _I_ know,” said Grandmama Camp, looking around on the others,
“just how Nan’s baby will tell us apart.”
“How,” they asked. But she would not tell them.
_Ella Farman Pratt._
[Illustration: THE NIMBLE PENNIES.
Draw two circles, one small, one large, the small one lapping over the
other, as in the first and second drawings. Use a small cent in drawing
the small circle, and a large copper cent (or a two-cent piece, or a
silver quarter) in drawing the large circle. After that you will easily
make a picture of a bright-eyed, long-tailed, nibbling mouse.]
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER VI.—A Little Journey._
One day, suddenly Mary Ellen began to creep.
[Illustration: “CREEP! CREEP!”]
She was sitting on the rug, reaching for her playthings—her rag doll and
her rag kitten. She had tossed them too far and there was no one in the
nursery to help get them, and finally in her repeated reaching forward,
over she went on her nose! Mama was not there to set her up again and
say, “Bumpity-bump! Up she must jump!” and she whimpered a bit. But she
wanted her playthings, and struggling for them she kicked her little
legs out behind her and tried to jump along on her little stomach. At
last in her mighty effort she drew her little knees up under her, lifted
her little back, and away she went, _creep! creep! creep!_ and with a
very red face and a gurgle of delight grabbed her doll and cat. Then she
tumbled down on her face again. But finally she got herself turned over,
and lay there on the carpet, contented.
And there she still lay, gurgling and cooing over dolly, when Mama Nan
came in, and Grandma Camp. Mama Nan stared at her baby, then at the rug
where the ivory rattle and pillows lay, then at Mary Ellen again.
“What does this mean?” she cried. “She is fully ten feet away from where
I left her!”
Mama Nan’s mother smiled. “I think, Nan, that Mary Ellen has had another
adventure. I rather think she has been creeping!”
For a moment Mama Nan looked more astonished and bewildered than before.
Then she turned and flew out along the little hall that led to the
library. “O, Dick!” she cried. “Come in here! What do you think? Mary
Ellen has been creeping.”
Papa Dick looked, for a second, fully as astonished as Mama Nan. Then he
said, “Well, it’s all right, isn’t it? She’d have to do it sometime,
wouldn’t she?”
[Illustration: MAMA NAN IS ASTONISHED.]
Mama Nan breathlessly told him about it. “Well,” he agreed, “it must have
been quite an exhibition. Suppose we go in and see if she can be got to
repeat the performance,” and back to the nursery they both hurried.
_Ella Farman Pratt._
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER VII.—How the Parrot Helped._
But there was something more to be done than just to say, “Come, Baby!
come to mama,” to get Mary Ellen to creep again.
[Illustration: “COME GET THE BOO’FUL BIRD!”]
Mary Ellen’s papa, mama, and maternal grandmama all got down on the
floor at the opposite end of the room, and smiled and held out hands
and coaxed and chirruped; and Mary Ellen smiled in return and crowed and
jounced her little self up and down, and seemed ever so many times to
be on the very point of starting to go, but after all did not once make
any effort to get over on her little hands and knees and creep. It ended
every time in her sitting there and reaching for them to come over and
get her.
“She’ll never do it again,” said Mama Nan.
“Perhaps she hasn’t at all,” said Papa Dick. “She may just have rolled
there. Do you _know_ that she crept?”
“Oh! she crept,” said Mrs. Camp. “I examined her hands and knees.”
Now there was one thing Mary Ellen had always wanted more than anything
else and many times had reached up her little hands for—the red and green
parrot on the bronze perch. But though the bird had an equal curiosity
about the baby, Mama Nan would never let Dom Pedro be brought near her
child for fear that cruel hooked bill might bite!
But now, suddenly, she said, “See here, Dick! go get the parrot!”
When the bird was brought and began to shout, “Holloa, Young Woman!”
which was Papa Dick’s usual salutation to his daughter, Mary Ellen began
to jump herself up and down again and pat-a-cake in a perfect frenzy of
delight.
“Come get the boo’ful bird!” called Mama Nan. “Come to mama, baby, and
have the pretty bird!”
But Mary Ellen seemed to have lost all knowledge of her new art of
locomotion. She continued to jounce and crow, while her papa had to grasp
hard hold of the parrot to keep him from flying out of his hands.
[Illustration: MARY ELLEN AND DOM PEDRO.]
In the midst of the excitement Old Lady Lois came in. The reason of the
queer scene was explained to her. “Bless your hearts!” exclaimed she. She
crossed the floor, lifted the child, poised her a moment on her feet,
then gently laid her down, face forward; and at that second the parrot
flapping his wings in a new struggle to fly, Mary Ellen, with a great
crow set off on hands and knees to meet him.
Quite around the nursery she followed after her papa and the brilliant
bird. Then, as reward, she was taken up on her papa’s knee, and let
to lay her little hand upon the feathery green back and to stroke the
gorgeous green and red tail feathers. As for the parrot—of course he did
not bite! he only said, “And what d’ye think now, Young Woman?”
After this, Mary Ellen could creep; could creep with the greatest
velocity. But whenever she crept, and wherever, her journeys always ended
at the foot of the bronze parrot-perch, and Dom Pedro always leaned over
and spoke to her, and said as he peered down at the golden-haired little
girlie, “Holloa, Young Woman! holloa!”
_Ella Farman Pratt._
[Illustration]
“Berry flowers,
Cherry flowers,
We saw to-day,
All so white,
O, so white!
“But the berries,
And the cherries,”
Said little Fay,
“Will be red,
O, so red!”
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER VIII.—The Open Door._
[Illustration: MARY ELLEN’S FIRST TOOTH.]
Almost as soon as Mary Ellen could creep, she tried to walk; and on the
same day she took her first step “all alone-y,” a little tooth came into
sight. The big white house was in a state of excitement. The grandmothers
were downstairs all day. Mrs. Persis was sure she had felt the tooth for
a week. All had to touch the bit of sharp pearl. “I believe the little
rogue _knows_ she is biting us,” Madam Esther said as Mary Ellen let go
her finger with a gurgle of a laugh. She pointed out a tiny red spot on
her finger and declared the tooth had made it. The others came and gazed,
and Papa Dick said grandmothers were queer beings.
But he and Mama Nan “felt” the tooth, too, when once they were alone with
Mary Ellen. They seemed to think it very wonderful that the tiny pearl
should appear in their baby’s mouth. They peered at it so often during
the next few days that at last, if anyone said, “Now let’s see ’ittle
toofy!” Mary Ellen began to cry and scream.
After Mary Ellen could creep she wouldn’t stay on her rug. She would
hitch along until off, and then start to creep. Next minute up she
would raise her little body and walk off, all-fours, on hands and feet,
pounding along like a little dog until she got to a chair, when she would
pull herself upright. Then, with her little hands patting the chair-seat
joyfully, she would step about it as fast as she could go, jumping,
gurgling and crowing, until in her wild glee down she would tumble! And
one day, in climbing up after a tumble, she found the chair could walk
too! Mary Ellen made experiments. A good smart push, and off the chair
would start over the smooth floor, and Mary Ellen with it, crowing like a
little rooster.
[Illustration: AT THE OPEN DOOR.]
Suddenly, one morning Mary Ellen appeared to have an idea in her little
head. She had been left on the rug with her playthings. There was no one
in the room except the cats and Dom Pedro. The cats raced about, and Dom
Pedro scolded: “Scat! Scat! Less noise I say!” Mary Ellen took no notice.
She set off, hitching along, for the door open into the hall. As soon as
she was over the threshold she started on a fast creep for the stairs.
“Young Woman!” Dom Pedro called. Mary Ellen crept on, the cats frolicking
along with her. Dom Pedro’s perch stood where he had a good view of the
stairs, and now, as Mary Ellen laid her little hand on the bottom step he
burst into a perfect frenzy of hoarse calls and squeaks.
_Ella Farman Pratt._
[Illustration: THE NIMBLE PENNIES.
Draw a small circle, and then a large circle below and behind it, and
a little to one side—as in the first two designs. (Draw the circles
around a small cent and a large copper cent, or two-cent piece, or silver
quarter.) Add the lines in the other four designs, and you will have a
pretty Poll Parrot on its perch.]
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER IX.—A Bumped Nose._
[Illustration: SHE CAME TO A DOOR.]
Mary Ellen paid no attention to Dom Pedro’s cries. She pressed one fat
hand down hard on the first stair and steadied herself and straightened
herself up until her little knees were level with the step, and then on
it—and there she was, _up a stair_! Her little face was very red, and she
was very puffy all over. But she seemed to have an instinct as to what
to do next. Or perhaps she had studied it all out on her rug. Learned
men are trying to pry into the minds of babies now, but as yet none has
discovered _very_ much as to what a baby thinks of, or whether it thinks
anything. She grasped hold of a baluster-round with one hand and laid
a sturdy little knee on the next stair, and in this way up she went,
panting and puffing and getting on up, she and the kittens, but never
making a loud sound, excepting a little grunt now and again.
But the moment she reached the top she broke out into a delighted gurgle
of little words: “Gum-um! gum-um!” Then she got herself on her feet—a
very dusty, mussed-up, red-faced, white-frocked baby, her sunshiny hair
wet on her heated forehead, but her blue eyes sparkling. She steadied
herself in her little red kid slippers and then, her hands against the
wall, she stepped along, step by step, until she came to a door. On that
she spatted with her two little hands and said, “Gum-um! gum-um!”
There was a sudden hurry inside, and the door opened, and Mary Ellen
and the six kittens went tumbling in together down on the floor.
Great-Grandmother Day cried out, “The Good Lord preserve us!” and sank
back in a chair.
The next minute she had caught the child up. Mary Ellen was crying
lustily, for she had bumped her nose in a very bad way, and as
Great-Grandmother Day sank back with her in the chair again, doors flew
open all about and grandmothers came flying along from all quarters.
[Illustration: MAMA NAN LOOKED WHITE.]
“What is it? Is Mary Ellen here? What is the matter?”
Great-Grandmother Day addressed herself to Madam Esther. “I know you
keep brown paper by you—bring me a piece of brown paper wet in ice water
for this child’s nose.”
At this moment, brought by Mary Ellen’s shrill screams and the parrot’s
outcry, Mama Nan appeared flying up the stairs.
“What is it? Where is Mary Ellen? Have you got Mary Ellen up here?”
She entered just as the piece of brown paper was being laid on Mary
Ellen’s nose, and her words ended in a little shrill cry like that of a
frightened mother-bird.
“This child came up the stairs alone!” said Great-Grandmother Day,
severely, speaking to all in the room. She rose and delivered the child
to its mother and then, faint for the first time in her life, was led
back to the chair by Old Lady Lois and Mrs. Lee.
By this time Mary Ellen was snuggling down in her mother’s neck in great
content, and her sobs were ceasing. But poor Mama Nan looked very white.
“I shall never know another moments peace,” she said piteously.
“Nonsense,” said her mother. “You did the very same thing yourself, Nan.
You were just about the age of Mary Ellen.”
On the way downstairs, Mary Ellen raised her head and said, “Gum-um!
gum-um!”
“Yes, you did go to see Gum-um,” answered her mama; “but you mustn’t do
it again.”
_Ella Farman Pratt._
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER X.—The Vase of Flowers._
None of the “gum-ums” supposed Mary Ellen would try coming up stairs
again. Her poor little bumped nose would be a warning. But Papa Dick
thought she would, and said someone ought to be in the nursery all the
time.
[Illustration: “MARY ELLEN MUSTN’T TOUCH!”]
“No, no,” said Mama Nan. “My little Mary Ellen must grow up able to do
right without being watched. If somebody sits by her and prevents her
from everything, how can I ever tell whether she is good or whether she
is bad?”
“Well,” said Papa Dick, “I hope you wont come to grief a-carrying out
your ideas about your little Mary Ellen.”
The next day after her adventure, Mary Ellen was left alone as usual with
her playthings. Her little nose was black-and-blue, and gave her a look
of not being a specially good child. Once or twice she put her little
hand up to her face. “Nosey ache, Dom P’e-do,” she said to the parrot.
Great-Grandmother Day’s tall old pier glass stood in the room. On its
low marble shelf Mama Nan generally kept a vase filled with flowers. It
was a glass vase, and very tall and slender. She had been warned about
leaving this vase in Mary Ellen’s reach. “She will pull it over some
day,” said Madam Esther, “and the vase’ll break and she’ll get cut with
the broken glass.”
Mama Nan said “no, she is to learn not to touch things.” But after the
parrot, the vase of flowers was the first object the baby took notice of.
Mama Nan would take a flower out and give to her, then set the vase back,
shake her head and say slowly, “Mary Ellen mustn’t touch!”
“Mary Ellen is a little human being,” she said, “and knows just as well
as I do that I mean she is not to touch the vase.”
“Yes,” said Papa Dick, “and because she is a little human being she will
some day investigate that vase for herself.”
[Illustration: MARY ELLEN DIDN’T LIKE WATER.]
And now that day had come. Mary Ellen sat for a time on the rug after her
mother went out, holding her rag doll by one leg. Suddenly she dropped
the doll and made vigorously for the mirror. She didn’t hesitate a second
after getting there. She reached for the biggest rose of the lot, grabbed
it by its head and pulled. Over came the vase, crash, splash, drench!
Mary Ellen gazed at the puddle. She didn’t like water. When it spread
out and wet her dress, she struck at it and drew herself away. “Notty
watty!” she said. This amused the parrot and he laughed. “Notty watty!”
she cried, looking up at him, and struck at it again. Mary Ellen had
never seen anything struck, but it was a very fierce little blow she
gave the puddle of drenched flowers. Then she set off with her big rose
for the open door into the hall, and up the stairs she went, and nearly
twice as quick as on the day before.
_Ella Farman Pratt._
THE LITTLE SAND PAIL.
“No Kit, no toys. I think children don’t need their toys at the beach.”
So said Kit’s mother.
Poor little Kit laid down the armful she had fetched to the trunks. “How
will I ’muse me?” said she mournfully.
“O,” said her mother cheerfully, “there is a wonderful seashore plaything
which I shall buy you.”
All the way Kit thought about this “plaything.” It proved to be a little
blue wooden pail and a spoon.
Kit had never seen outdoors sand before. “Nurse,” said she, “Is this sand
all sc’ubbing sand?”
[Illustration: KIT AND HER PRECIOUS PAIL.]
The little blue pail was truly a “wonderful plaything.” Kit forgot
doll-house and dolls. She was world-building—mountains and caves and
rivers and seas; wells and “little homes” for star-fish and sand-crabs;
great treasure-vaults for shells and pebbles; gardens of sea-weed.
Other children had sand-pails. Some days they toiled in company, and
built long lines of forts. Other days they built large cities. One boy
dug a deep well and called it an “oil well.” He sunk a small tin cup of
kerosene in it and put in rags and set it afire with a match, and the
whole little crowd jumped up and down and shouted. But Kit’s mother and
other mothers put it out and said it was wrong.
On the last day of all Kit filled her pail with “sc’ubbing sand” to carry
home.
_Louise Kendrick._
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER XI.—For Great-grandmama Lois._
Not one of the grandmothers heard Mary Ellen on the stairs or on the
landing, and the little creature patted along by the wall in her pretty
red slippers, past the door where she had tumbled in the day before, past
Madam Esther’s, and turned into the other hall with her rose. This hall
was lighted by a large window, and as Mary Ellen felt the sunshine full
in her face she began to smile and look like herself again. She pattered
along faster, smiling and smiling, and just as she came to the last door
was on the point of exploding into a whole fireworks of laughs and crows
and calls, as was her way when very much pleased.
“Gum-um!” she called, but first running into the corner and backing
up close against the wall. Mary Ellen had no notion of falling in when
_this_ door opened.
It was at Old Lady Lois’s room that she had stopped, as she her little
self knew very well. The door opened instantly. But the dear old
great-grandmother did not see the child at first. She looked all about
her, as if very much alarmed.
“Yosy!” Mary Ellen cried out. “Yosy, Gum-um!” She toddled forward and
held up the big wet rose.
Old Lady Lois gathered her up in her arms and went in. “Are you up here
_again_, child?” she said, reproachfully.
“Yosy,” said Mary Ellen. “Yosy.”
“Yes, pretty rosy,” answered Old Lady Lois.
“Yosy!” persisted Mary Ellen.
[Illustration: “YOSY!” SAID MARY ELLEN.]
“You best take the flower, Mrs. Gray,” said Mrs. Camp. The others had
heard the chirping of the little voice and had come in to see what had
happened.
“Don’t you see she has brought it on purpose for _you_? I _told_ you she
would know us apart. I knew she would know _you_ by your _flower_! She
must have been very observing when her mother has had her up here, to
know which was your room.”
“Yosy,” said Mary Ellen, pushing the wet flower up against the gentle
old face. This time Old Lady Lois took the rose and pinned it in her
kerchief. She looked very pleased. The child seemed satisfied now. She
laid her little yellow head back on the white kerchiefed shoulder and
looked around on the others.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Mrs. Persis, contemplating her, “if she
has broken the vase getting the rose out. Her dress seems very wet.”
“Notty watty,” said Mary Ellen.
Madam Esther had gone down-stairs. She came up now with Mary Ellen’s
father and mother. Poor Mama Nan seemed even more terrified and
breathless than on the day before. “I _told_ you I should never know
another moment’s peace,” said she.
Papa Dick laughed at her. “You ought to feel relieved,” said he. “Here
your smart little Mary Ellen has taught herself, all alone, how to go
up-stairs.”
But Mama Nan was not to be comforted in that way. “What _is_ to be done?”
said she. “She will undertake this thing every day.” And here she quite
broke down and began to sob in a miserable helpless way.
Nobody spoke for a minute. Then Great-Grandmother Day said gently, “Just
let me take her in charge, Nancy. I promise you the child shall soon go
up and down with perfect safety.”
Mama Nan started up in fresh terror. “She has got to learn how to go
_down_ too? Oh, me!”
[Illustration: MARY ELLEN LOOKED AFTER THEM.]
“See here, Nan, you better come down-stairs,” said Papa Dick, a droll
look about his mouth.
They went out, leaving Mary Ellen with her grandmothers. She sat up and
looked after them, with big eyes. “Mama k’y!” she said.
_Ella Farman Pratt._
THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.
_CHAPTER XII.—Baby Days go by._
[Illustration: TEACHING MARY ELLEN.]
“Getting down-stairs,” said Great-grandmother Day, “doesn’t come so
natural to a child as getting up-stairs does. And there is more danger
about it. Mary Ellen ought to be taught how to do it, and then be
watched. And the sooner the better, for evidently she is coming up here
when she pleases.”
The venerable lady stood her cane up in a corner, took Mary Ellen from
Old Lady Lois’s lap, gave her a finger and toddled her along to the
staircase, and placed her on the floor, her little back to the stairs.
Then she stepped down. “Come,” said she, “let’s go down-y, down-y,
down-y!”
“See, she is going,” said Mrs. Persis.
But not exactly going was Mary Ellen. Great-grandmother Day had taken
hold of her ankle, and was seeking to draw the little red-slippered foot
down to the first stair. Feeling herself going, she knew not where, Mary
Ellen began to scream, then threw herself flat on the landing.
“Mercy! I hope Nan doesn’t hear this!” said Mrs. Camp.
“She doesn’t,” said Mrs. Lee. “Dick and she have just driven out of the
yard.”
Mrs. Day straightened herself up, with a red face. “She will do it all
right in a minute or so,” she said. “Babies are born with instincts to do
these needful things, just the same as cats and colts.”
After a long breath or two, Mrs. Day bent down and tried again. But Mary
Ellen was really terrified, and screamed louder than before. This time
she kicked too, and so hard that her poor Great-grandmother had to let go.
“Notty Gum-um!” cried the child.
“Turn her round,” said Mrs. Camp. “Perhaps _her_ ‘instinct’ is to go
frontwards. Nan’s was.”
And when Mary Ellen was turned, and could see what she was doing, and
where she was, and Mrs. Day coaxed again, “Down-y, down-y, now!” the
wonderful “instinct” began to stir. She held on to the landing, behind,
with both hands, gave a quick hitch, and set her little self on the next
step below all right. And down they got her at last, with great fun.
“Nan used to go down that way, so fast she seemed to be just sliding
down,” said Nan’s mother, “and now she is so scared about Mary Ellen!”
[Illustration: A BABY NO LONGER.]
Well, the day came at last when nobody was worried to find Mary Ellen
going up or coming down quite alone, holding to the baluster by one
hand, and perhaps a cat on the other arm. She visited first one and then
another of her grandmothers, never making two visits on one trip. She
seemed to be led by the kind of play she had in her little mind. In
Mrs. Persis’s room it was the cat-basket, and a frolic with the cats.
In Great-Grandmother Day’s it was to ride the cane cock-horse, like a
little boy, thumping it about with plenty of noise. Some days she had a
flower to carry to “Yady Yois.” She went up to Mrs. Lee’s room to look
at pictures. In Madam Esther’s she picked up buttons; when Madam Esther,
who loved quiet, heard the little red slippers stopping at her door,
she hurried to overturn her button-box. In Mrs. Camp’s room the little
visitor “made moosic” on the guitar strings.
It was to get for “Yady Yois” a big red dahlia that had blossomed by the
gate, that one day, all by herself, Mary Ellen clambered down from the
veranda, and took her first journey out into the world. She ran skipping
over the green grass, tossing her little arms and singing “da-da! da-da!”
at the top of her voice. Her yellow hair was blowing all about her face
and shining in the September sun and wind.
Her father caught her up, as he came in through the gate. “O, ho!” said
he. “Running away, is she? Not a baby any longer, but an independent
little girl!”
_Ella Farman Pratt._
“LITTLE SUN-BONNET.”
They called her “Little Sun-bonnet.” I will tell you why.
[Illustration: BETH.]
Her mama had promised to take her to a picnic, and for days little Beth
could talk of nothing else.
The night before the picnic day Beth had caught sight of little round
cakes, tarts, and a Washington-pie on the pantry shelf, and when her
bed-time came, and she was up in her little room with mama, she asked so
many, many questions that at last mama said:
“There, there, dear, you must go to sleep, so as to wake very, very early
in the morning.”
After mama had left her, Beth lay for a long time thinking; and this
awful thought came to her: suppose she shouldn’t wake “very, very early,”
and so have no time to get dressed for the picnic!
In a twinkling Beth was out of bed. She pulled on her stockings. She
buttoned the six buttons of each small boot, and as many buttons of her
dress as she could reach. Then she felt around in the dark for her pink
calico sun-bonnet. This she tied tightly under her chin. Then she crept
softly back into bed.
How mama laughed when she came into her little daughter’s room in the
morning! And how everyone else laughed! And now you know how Beth came to
be called “Little Sun-bonnet.”
_Carrie A. Griffin._
BABYLAND
HOW “GUMMA” DRESSED JACK.
Jack came trotting into papa’s room one morning with two little black
stockings in one hand, two little black boots in the other, and several
small articles of clothing over his shoulder.
[Illustration: “STOP, PAPA! STOP!” CRIED JACK.]
“Papa,” he said, “does you know how to dwess yittle boys? Gumma’s gone.”
“Yes, indeed, my little man,” said papa; and he lifted Jack to his knee,
and began to pull on one small stocking.
“Stop, papa! stop!” cried Jack. “Dat ain’t _a-way_! Gumma don’ do it
dat-a-way!”
“Well, how does ‘Gumma’ do it?” asked papa, pausing for instruction.
“Dis-a-way,” said Jack, taking up one foot and then carefully grasping a
fat toe in his chubby hand.
“Here, Mishter Toe, you an’ your bruzzers mus’ go into your yittle black
house; now don’ begin to w’iggle. One, two, _free_, dere—you go!” and
Jack pulled his stocking over his five toes, and up to his knee. Then
looking up into his papa’s face he said: “See?”
“Yes,” said papa, smiling. “Here goes the other foot. Now, Mr. Toe, you
and all your brothers”—
“No, no, papa!” cried Jack; “dat one is _Mishis_ Toe, an’ you mus’ say,
‘all your yittle _sissers_.’”
“O, ho!” said papa. “Well then, _Mrs._ Toe, and all your little sisters!
One, two, three, there you go!” and the second stocking was on.
“Now,” said Jack, “you mus’ put on the woof.”
“The what?” asked papa.
“The _woof_ to the house,” and Jack pointed to his boot.
“Oh! the roof. Very well,” and papa put on the boot and begun buttoning
it with his fingers.
“Dat ain’t a-way!” cried Jack again. “You mus’ get a hooker and lock all
’e’ doors, so all the yittle bruzzers and sissers won’ get out ’e’ house
for all day.”
“Now see here, young man,” said papa, “does grandma go through with all
this rigmarole every morning?”
“Of courth,” said Jack, looking at papa with surprised eyes.
“Well, papa hasn’t the time, so let me get you into your clothes _quick_,
before the breakfast bell rings.”
So Jack had to submit to being dressed in a hurry, without his
grandmother’s pleasant romancing.
The minute he got downstairs he went to his mama and asked:
“Fen’s my gumma comin’ home?”
“She is coming to-morrow,” said mama.
“Dat’s nice,” said Jack, “for” he whispered into mamma’s ear, “my papa
don’ know how to dwess yittle boys.”
_Carrie A. Griffin._
DOBBIN-COLT.
[Illustration: Teacher and class advance slowly.
Child next teacher skips down front of class, up behind and around
teacher back to starting point—Others follow in order.
“Grow and Grow.” Rise and rise on tiptoe.]
Dobbin is a baby colt!
By his mother’s side he stays;
Through the grassy pasture land
Slowly close beside her strays.
Dobbin is a playful colt!
Prancing off on twinkling feet,
Circling back he gaily comes;
Hear his flying small hoofs beat!
Dobbin is a handsome colt!
See him grow, and grow, and grow!
And a master’s voice and hand
Dobbin-colt has learned to know.
[Illustration: Children bend, then follow teacher around room.]
Dobbin is a model colt!
See him bend his arching head,
Take the guiding bridle on,
From the grassy field be led.
Dobbin is a wond’ring colt!
But, obedient to do
What he’s bid, he lifts his foot
For the shining iron shoe.
Dobbin is a well-trained colt!
With his load he speeds away—
Every creature trained and strong
Likes to work as well as play.
A FLOCK OF SHEEP.
[Illustration: In this play the children should wear little bells on
ribbons.
Children follow teacher, single file, slowly, in winding line.
All pause in semicircle, bend heads, drink from hollowed palms, then
follow teacher back, bending and moving heads from side to side as if
cropping grass.]
Down the hilly pasture,
Over ledge and rock,
By the winding sheep-path
Come the woolly flock.
_Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle—_
Hear the sheep-bells tinkle!
In the vale they gather
At the silver rill;
Back they nibbling clamber
Up the sunny hill.
_Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle—_
Slow the sheep-bells tinkle!
[Illustration: Children crowd close behind the teacher: all advance in a
body with rapid step.
In marching the teacher takes a sudden skip and high step, children the
same in concert.]
Hist! a panic-signal!
Crowding close they fly
With their fleecy leader
Down the hillside high.
_Tinkle-tinkle-tinkle—_
Fast the sheep-bells tinkle!
O, the silly baa-sheep!
See them jump the wall—
Over goes the leader,
Over go they all!
_Tinkle! tinkle-tinkle!_
How the sheep-bells tinkle!
[Illustration: THE NIMBLE PENNIES.
First, find two pennies, one small, one large (or, if a big old-fashioned
copper cent is not to be found in papa’s pocket, a two-cent piece, or a
silver quarter, will do as well). Then take slate, or paper, and pencil,
and draw a small circle and a large circle, as in the first and second
pictures. To these lapping circles, add eye, nose, mouth, ears, legs,
feet, and last of all a fine bushy tail—and, behold! the nimble pennies
have changed to a gay little Christmas “nut-cracker”—which everybody
knows is one of the squirrel’s nicknames.]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
I do have such trouble and care
With my dolly’s right shoe!
The string gets in forty hard knots—
Just as both of mine do—
I am sorry for mamas, aren’t you?
_P. S. C._
[Illustration: THE NIMBLE PENNIES.
Through the year “The Nimble Pennies” will open the gates to a cunning
menagerie for the little nursery girls and boys. Ask papa or mama for two
cents, one small and one large (a two-cent piece, or a silver quarter,
will do as well if a large copper cent is not to be had). Draw circles
around the pennies, as in the first and second pictures, then add eyes,
nose, mouth, ears, legs, feet, tail, and last of all whiskers—and, lo!
the pennies have nimbly changed to a cat!]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
_Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong-ding—_
Did you hear the school-bell ring?
Hurry, hurry, little flock,
It is nigh to nine o’clock!
_P. S. C._
THE HAPPY HEN.
[Illustration: Slow circuit of room, mother singing, child now and then
uttering happy peeps.
In 2nd circuit mother often pauses, anxiously craning her head about,
scanning sky for hawks, “Peeps” and “Craws” at pleasure, in the singing.]
O, here comes a Hen
With a most happy mind,
Her one little chick
Close a-walking behind.
The morning is warm
And the sun is on high,
No hawk to be seen
In the blue summer sky.
Her chicken and she
Are out for a walk;
“_Craw, craw, kr-kr-craw_,”
And “_Peep_,” goes the talk.
She scans heaven and earth,
High a-craning her head;
“All’s well!” says the Hen,
“My chick shall be fed.”
[Illustration: 3d. circuit is interspersed with running steps and darts
of the head. Child runs at all “calls” with outstretched arms and chirps.
In the 4th circuit, side by side they sip from hands, uplifting heads at
each swallow. Finish circuit, child walking behind mother.]
Now quickly she runs,
Darting here, darting there,
For bugs in the grass
Or a fly in the air;
She calls to her chick
As she scratches the ground,
And the chicken’s soft chirp
Is the loveliest sound!
They sip from the leaves
The bright drops of the dew,
And lift up their heads
Ever thankfully too.
Then homeward she goes,
And her chick close behind,
This dear Mother Hen
With a most happy mind.
BABYLAND
A BED-TIME STORY.
After the little boys were all snug in bed for the night, Norah would go
in to put out the lamp. And this is the story she would tell them, while
they leaned on their elbows and watched her face closely, for “it’s a
_seeing_ story as well as a _hearing_ story,” Teddy said.
[Illustration: THE WAYS NORAH LOOKED.]
“Once there was a man, and he looked just like _this_,” and Norah twisted
her under-jaw around to the right. “And his wife looked like _this_,”
and Norah twisted her jaw to the left.
“And they had a boy who looked like _this_,” and Norah drew her under-jaw
in back of the upper one; “and a girl that looked liked _this_,” and
Norah threw her under-jaw out beyond the upper.
“And they had a dog that looked like _this_,” and Norah pursed up her
mouth to look like a round “O.”
“When it was bed-time the family wanted to blow out the candle.
“And the man would blow like _this_,” and Norah puffed out of the right
corner of her mouth, “but he couldn’t do it.
“And his wife would blow like _this_,” said Norah, puffing out of the
left corner, “but she couldn’t do it.
“And the boy would blow like _this_,” and Norah threw back her under-jaw
and blew downwards, “but he couldn’t do it.
“And the girl would blow like _this_,” said Norah, throwing her under-jaw
forwards and blowing upward, “but she couldn’t do it.
“Then the dog would come along and blow like _this_.”
Out went the light!
“Good night,” said Norah.
The little boys always laughed then, and cuddled down to sleep.
_Mattie W. Baker._
[Illustration: “WHICH IS THE TALLEST?”]
BABY’S ROOSTER.
One day Baby left his rooster-toy out on the grass, and there he stayed
all night.
[Illustration: THE BRAHMA DREW BACK.]
Soon after sunrise the White Brahma cock came out for a walk, and his eye
fell on the stranger. “What’s this?” said he, drawing back. He noticed
the gold spots on the stranger’s breast, and his curling green and blue
tail feathers, and his wrath rose. “I’ll curl his impudent feathers!”
said he, and flew at him prepared to tear his comb out by the roots. The
stranger did not show fight and was borne down, yet began to crow, and
gave out such a string of victorious cock-a-doodles that the White Brahma
turned and ran for his life. He did not know what Baby knew—that if you
bore the rooster-toy down hard he would cock-a-doodle six times running.
[Illustration: THE BRAHMA FLEW AT HIM.]
[Illustration: THE BRAHMA RAN.]
_John Peters._
ON ARBOR DAY.
[Illustration]
“Let’s plant a baby tree,” said Bob,
To little sister Bess;
“And then we’ll have a great big tree,
When we grow up, I guess.”
“O, yes,” cried Bess, “a sugar tree,
A maple-sugar tree;
To bear sweet sticks and hearts and rounds,
As thick as thick can be!”
“And I will plant an oak,” laughed Bob
(A “squirrel-tooth” had he),
“For cups and saucers for your dolls,
And nuts to crack for me!”
_P. S. C._
[Illustration: “SORRY-BOY.”]
_Little “Sorry-Boy”—bless his tender heart!_
_In this world he truly does his part._
_Every hot day “Sorry-Boy” comes out,_
_Pumps a great big cool wet shower about,_
_Makes a splendid splatter and a splash,_
_For the chicks and shaggy old dog Dash:_
_For such pitying acts there came_
_To this little boy his name!_
_M. D._
BABYLAND
PERCY’S DREAM.
On July third Percy’s mama went up to wake him.
He cried out when she kissed him, “Oh, mama, I was having a splendid
dream! I had just put eighteen packs of fire-crackers in a barrel under
your window, and set them off, and they were _just_ going to _bang_!”
“Never mind,” said mama, laughing. “You will get all the bang you want
to-morrow.”
About ten o’clock mama missed Percy.
There were “symptoms” of him everywhere; his little straw hat on the hall
floor, his top in the dining-room, his cars in the parlor, his dog in
the porch, his bicycle down by the front gate. But no Percy.
Finally she went upstairs, and there was Percy stretched out on his
little brass bed, his eyes shut tight.
“Why, Percy,” said mama, as she bent over him, and he opened his eyes.
“Are you sick?”
“No, Mama, but it’s a dreadful long time till to-morrow, and I was trying
to piece out my dream so’s to hear the bang! Oh, I’m so sorry you woke me
up this morning!”
_L. E. Chittenden._
THE TEETER-BOARD.
A log and a board,
And two little boys,
And a sound of fun,
And a joyful noise!
Teeter-tawter-O!
’Tis a teeter-board,
And that’s fun you know!
Down rides little Sam,
Up rides little Joe!
Teeter-tawter-O!
[Illustration: AND THAT’S FUN YOU KNOW!]
JACK HORNER’S THANKSGIVING.
[Illustration: PLUMS FOR BOTH THUMBS.]
_Little Jack Horner sat in a corner_
_Eating a Christmas Pie;_
_He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum_
_And said, “What a brave boy am I!”_
—MOTHER GOOSE.
Little Jack Horner
Was not in a corner,
And he had not any pie,
Nor the trace of a plum
On his little thumb;
“Oh! a hungry boy am I,”
Cried little Jack Horner.
Thanksgiving Day
It was, and the way
The wide old house was humming
With the merry noise
Of girls and boys
At the thought of the dinner coming!—
Chief noise, Jack Horner!
Why, even the lid
Of the tea-kettle did
A jig while the water bubbled,
And the saucer and cup
Clinked, “Hurry up!”
And the oven’s fragrance doubled
For little Jack Horner.
He was here and there,
He was everywhere,
He was in and out and under;
Again and again
And again, “Oh! when
Will dinner be ready, I wonder?”
Cried little Jack Horner.
Then, ready!—and there
In his high chair
Was perched brave Jack, the starving—
Perched very close
To the turkey’s nose
That dear grandpa was carving
For little Jack Horner.
A wishbone, a heart,
A cranberry tart,
Pie, pudding and nuts, had Jack Horner—
And plenty of plums
For both his thumbs!
Ah! table is better than corner,
Little Jack Horner!
_Clara Doty Bates._
POSY PINKHAM’S CAT.
[Illustration]
Little Posy Pinkham always declared her cat un-der-stood what she said.
I could tell little children many things to show that house-cats and
house-dogs _do_ un-der-stand _much_ that is said, and some day I will.
One morning Posy came running downstairs, eager to tell her mama what she
had dreamed, and Posy’s cat at once pricked up her ears to listen, for
she, too, had had a dream. Any child who watches a cat asleep knows cats
dream.
“What makes me dream, mama?” asked Posy.
“O, things you talk about, hear about, and think about.”
“_Meow-wow! ou-ou-wow!_” remarked Posy’s cat. She was saying that now she
understood the reason of her own dream.
Posy’s cat had a very short, stubby tail, while she liked very much
better to see long glossy tails, and wished every day of her life that
her tail was long and handsome.
In her dream she was sitting on the gate-post, and had a long glossy tail
that reached all the way down and lay on the ground, and was so beautiful
that rats came into the yard to look at it and admire it.
“I wish dreams could come true,” said Posy.
[Illustration: THE DREAM.]
“_Ow-wow-ow!_” said Posy’s cat; that meant, “_I_ do too.”
_Laura Hewells._
* * * * *
[Illustration]
B stands for Bob,
For Bob the Bad;
And then, the funny letter,
It stands for Bob,
Just as before,
When he is Bob the Better.
The Going of the Swallows.
[Illustration: DIRECTIONS.—During the singing of the first two verses,
the children enter march and countermarch singly, darting crossing and
wheeling as suggested by the song. Between verses, they gather and sit in
line as swallows gather on the ridge of barn roofs or on telegraph wires,
previous to migratory flight. During the singing of the third verse, the
children gather in line forming a solid body, two leaders somewhat in
advance. During the singing of the fourth verse, the children, keeping
close together, march around the room and out through the door, the
mother or teacher waving farewells.]
(_Mother or Teacher sings_:)
What does disturb the Swallows?
They come from everywhere!
Criss-cross, zig-zag, and circle,
Like bees they fill the air—
What is it, little Swallows?
(_Children sing_:)
We have had word,
Each little bird,
To gather
Together!
(_Mother sings_:)
What was the word, O Swallows,
That it disturbs you so,
That all day long in trouble
You hurry to and fro?
What is it, little Swallows?
(_Children sing_:)
We have had word,
Each little bird,
Of blowing!
Of snowing!
(_Mother sings_:)
Ah, ’tis the winter-warning!
No Swallow will delay!
You’ll take to-night the long-flight,
A thousand miles away,
To find the sunny Southland!
(_Children sing_:)
Goeth each bird,
As it hath word,
From Northland
To Southland!
[Illustration]
(_Mother sings_:)
Goodbye, then, little Swallows!
Safe fly you, little band!
A happy winter to you
Down in the southern land!
But come again, dear Swallows!
(_Children sing_:)
Yea—when each bird
Heareth the word
To fly forth
And fly North!
THE JOLLY YOUNG ELEPHANT.
One day when the Show was passing through a village, one of the young
trick-elephants heard a little boy laugh out suddenly. This elephant
liked little boys; he had a roguish look himself and could take a joke,
and never acted “mad” when some mischievous little visitor fed him an
empty peanut shell.
[Illustration: THE YOUNG ELEPHANT’S DREAM.]
Turning his mouse-colored head, the young elephant looked in at the open
door of the house they were passing. He flapped his big ears at what he
saw there, and laughed too.
That night when the show was over, and he stood in a row with the other
elephants going to sleep, he thought again of what he saw in that open
door, and laughed once more. “That must have been fun!” he said to
himself. “It must be fun to be a little boy! That trick was funnier than
any we circus elephants are taught to do. I wouldn’t mind being a little
boy myself! I truly wouldn’t!”
And then the jolly young elephant went to sleep, and dreamed he could do
the little boy’s trick—and really he never enjoyed a dream so much before
in all his life.
_George Dutton._
The Lions
(MARCHING PLAYS FOR NURSERY AND KINDERGARTEN.)
[Illustration: Heads drooped, eyes closed, hands on knees.
March forward slowly in line, diverging.
March down to the end of the room, heads held high. Sing with emphasis.]
(_Teacher sings._)
The lions shun the sun!
All day, asleep,
Deep in the thicket’s shade
The lions keep.
(_Teacher sings._)
’Tis in the dark midnights
The lions wake;
All silent and alone
Their way they take.
(_Teacher sings._)
Awake, at night they seek
The river-shore;
(_Children join in._)
And all the desert vast
Shakes with their roar.
[Illustration: Turn, sing, right arms lifted like imperious paws.
March around the room rapidly, tossing heads, pursuing teacher, or
mother, who “falls in” at the right point, keeping in advance.
March around the room again. “Take the prey” by overtaking and
surrounding the teacher, or mother.]
(_Children sing._)
The lions, they are kings!
They make the law!
Yea, every creature fears
The lion’s paw!
(_Teacher sings._)
The lions never tire!
With tossing mane
They bound along
The moonlit plain.
(_Children sing._)
They never, never tire!
They speed away
And follow, follow on,
And take the prey!
_Grey Burleson._
ZERO.
If a Polar bear went upright, he would be as tall as a man with a boy
standing on his head.
But the Polar bear goes on all-fours, and so he is nine feet long instead
of nine feet tall.
A big white Polar bear lived at the Zoo—a place where wild animals are
kept—in London, twenty-three years. He was named Zero, because he came
from the cold Arctic regions. It was so much warmer in London that he was
given great cakes of ice to lie on.
Zero weighed nearly a ton; but, though he was so large and so long, his
tail was very, very short, as short as a goat’s tail.
Unlike all other bears, the Polar bear’s feet are shod with hair—short
hairs set so close that one can’t see between them even with a magnifying
glass. With this hairy sole to his feet, the Polar bear can walk on the
smoothest ice without slipping.
Crowds of little London boys and girls used to go to the Zoo to
watch Zero splash into his cold-water swimming-bath. Zero liked his
swimming-bath best of anything in London—that and the ice. He never
noticed the children at all.
Polar bears are fondest of fish for food. Zero was also fond of
strawberries, but he would not touch the buns and apples the children
tossed in between the iron bars of his great cage.
_C. P. Stuart._
[Illustration: THE NIMBLE PENNIES.
Draw a small circle, and then a large circle at the right of, and behind,
the other—as in the first and second designs. (Use a small cent and a
large copper cent, or two-cent piece, or silver quarter.) Then add the
lines in the third, fourth, fifth and sixth designs—and you will have a
very tame bear wearing a muzzle.]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Japanese doll-heads all in a row,
One—two—three;
Japanese doll-heads down below,
One—two—three;
Doll-heads three and three—do you see?—
Added, make six; and the six make T.
_P. S. C._
The Country Cats.
[Illustration: The mother or teacher may sing or recite the verses,
the children joining in the refrains of pit-a-pats and purrs. The hand
movements are made while marching.
Climbing movement, raising arms higher and higher alternately.
Rolling movement, hands revolving about each other in front.]
We happy Country Cats,
We think our lot the best
Of all the beastie-folk,
And pity all the rest.
We’ve miles of grass just right
For cushioned kitty-feet,
All velvet-soft to suit
A kitty scudding fleet.
_Pit-i-pat, pit-i-pat!_
And barky trees, where cats
Can climb, and sharpen claws,
And fright the foolish birds
With harmless _me-a-aws!_
And leafy garden-beds
Lie round us everywhere—
’Tis naughty little cats
That go and tumble there!
_Pit-i-pat, pit-i-pat!_
[Illustration: Creeping movement of fingers, the hands held well forward.
At end, children in seats, head bent, arms folded, to imitate cats curled
up in hay.]
And, O, the country nights!
A cat can travel far
And come and go all safe
By light of moon and star.
But best the dusky barn!
With mice, and mows of hay,
Where any cat can climb
And sleep the day away.
_Purr-purr-purr, purr, purr!_
There, when the cows come up—
O, listen, cats in town!
We hear in great milk-pails
The milk go streaming down!
And there on winter nights,
Deep in her haymow nest,
The peaceful Country Cat
Knows well her lot is best!
_Purr-purr-purr, purr, purr._
[Illustration]
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Little Mother Goose" ***
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