trees, and look up at the bits of blue sky, through the leafy branches; we'd hush our breath when the little squirrel peeped out of his hole, and watch him slyly snatch the ripe nut from his winter's store. And we'd watch for the shy rabbit; and the little spotted toad, with its blinking eyes; and the gliding snake, which creeps out to sun itself on the old gray rock. We'd play hide and seek, in the hollow trunks of old trees, we'd turn away from the gaudy flowers, flaunting their showy beauty in our faces, and search under the glossy leaves at our feet, for the pale-eyed blossoms which nestle there as lovingly as a timid little fledgling under the mother-bird's wing; we'd go to the lake, and see the sober staid old cows stand cooling their legs in the water, and admiring themselves in the broad, sheeted mirror beneath; we'd toss little pebbles in the lake, and see the circles they made widen and widen toward the distant shore-like careless words, dropped and forgotten, but reaching the far-off shore of eternity. And then you would nestle round me, telling all your little griefs; for well I know that childhood has its griefs, which are all the keener because great wise grown-up people have often neither time nor patience amidst the bustling whirl of life, to stop and listen to them. I know what it is for a timid little child, who has never been away from its mother's apron string, to be walked, some morning, into a great big schoolroom, full of strange faces;-to see a little urchin laugh, and feel a choking lump come in your little throat, for fear he was laughing at you ;-to stand up with trembling legs, in the middle of the floor, and told to "find big A," when your eyes were so full of tears that you couldn't see anything; to keep looking at the cane on the desk, and wondering if it would some ever come down on your hand; to have mischievous little scholar break your nice long slatepencil in two, to plague you, or steal your bit of ginger-bread out of your satchel, and eat it up, or trip you down on purpose, and how little the hardhearted young sinners cared when you sobbed out, "I'll tell my mother." I know what it is, when you have lain every night since you were born, with your hand clasped in your mother's, and your cheek cuddled up to hers, to see a new baby come and take your place, without even asking your leave ;—to see papa, grand-pa, and grandma, and uncle, and aunt, and cousins, and all the neighbours, so glad to see it, when your heart was almost broken about it. I know what it is to have a great fat nurse (whom even mamma herself had to mind) lead you struggling, out of the room, and tell Sally to see that you didn't come into your mamma's room again all that day. I know what it is to have that fat old nurse sit in mamma's place at table, and cut up your potatoes and meat all wrong; to have her put soup on your plate when you don't like soup; to have her forget to give you a piece of pie, and eat two pieces herself; to have Sally cross, and Betty cross, and everybody telling you to "get out of the way;"-to have your doll's leg get loose, and nobody there to hitch it on for you;-and then, when it came night, to be put away in a chamber, all alone by yourself to sleep, and have Sally tell you that if you wasn't good an old black man would come and carry you off;"-and then to cuddle down under the sheet till you are half stifled, and tremble every time the wind blew, as if you had an ague fit. Yes, and when, at last, mother came down stairs, I know how long it took for you to like that new baby;-how every time 66 you wanted to sit in mother's lap, he'd be sure to have the stomach-ache, or to want his breakfast; how he was always wanting something, so that mother couldn't tell you pretty stories, or build little blocks of houses for you, or make you reins to play horses with; or do any of these nice little things, that she used to be always doing for you. To be sure, I know all about it. I have cried tears enough to float a steamship, about all these provoking things; and now whenever I see a little child cry, I never feel like laughing at him; for I know that often his little heart is just ready to break, for somebody to pet him. So I alway say a kind word, or give him a pat on the head, or kiss, for I know that though the little insect has but one grain to carry, he often staggers under it; and I have seen the time when a kind word or beaming smile, would have been worth more to me, than all the broad lands of merrie England. HOME AND CLASS WORK. Learn the spellings at the top of the page; and write sentences containing these words. THE SUNBEAM. lingerer arcades twilight scatterest wilderness gladdened quivering THOU art no lingerer in monarch's hall; Thou art walking the billows, and Ocean smiles- To the solemn depths of the forest shades I looked on the mountains-a vapour lay I looked on the peasant's lowly cot, To the earth's wild place a guest thou art, Thou takest through the dim church-aisle thy way, And its pillars from twilight flash forth to day; And its high pale tombs, with their trophies old, Are bathed in a flood as of burning gold. And thou turnest not from the humblest grave, Sunbeam of Summer; oh, what is like thee? One thing is like thee, to mortals given The Faith, touching all things with hues of heaven. HEMANS. HOME AND CLASS WORK. Learn the spellings at the top of the page; and write sentences containing these words. |