Boys and Girls Bookshelf; a Practical Plan of Character Building Part 72

"Oh, who is it?" cried winsome May; "How I wish she was here to-day!

Wouldn't I love her like everything, And give her my new carnelian ring!

Say, dear grandmamma, who can she be?"

"Darling," said grandmamma, "that child was me!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: AN AFTERNOON CALL ON GRANDMOTHER]

May looked along at the dimpled grace, And then at the saint-like, fair old face, "How funny!" she cried, with a smile and a kiss, "To have such a dear little grandma as this!

Still," she added, with a smiling zest, "I think, dear grandma, I like you best!"

So May climbed on the silken knee, And grandma told her her history-- What plays she played, what toys she had, How at times she was naughty, or good, or sad.

"But the best thing you did," said May, "don't you see?

Was to grow a beautiful grandma for me!"

THANKSGIVING DAY

BY LYDIA MARIA CHILD

Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather's house we go; The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh Through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river and through the wood-- Oh, how the wind does blow!

It stings the toes And bites the nose, As over the ground we go.

Over the river and through the wood, To have a first-rate play; Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding!"

Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river and through the wood, Trot fast, my dapple-gray!

Spring over the ground, Like a hunting hound!

For this is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river and through the wood, And straight through the barn-yard gate.

We seem to go Extremely slow-- It is so hard to wait!

Over the river and through the wood-- Now grandmother's cap I spy!

Hurrah for the fun!

Is the pudding done?

Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

GRANDMA'S MINUET

Grandma told me all about it; Told me so I couldn't doubt it; How she danced--my grandma danced, Long ago.

How she held her pretty head, How her dainty skirt she spread, How she turned her little toes, Smiling little human rose!

Long ago.

Grandma's hair was bright and sunny, Dimpled cheeks, too--ah, how funny!

Really, quite a pretty girl, Long ago.

Bless her! Why, she wears a cap, Grandma, does, and takes a nap, Every single day, and yet, Grandma danced a minuet, Long ago.

No--they moved with stately grace, Everything in proper place; Gliding slowly forward, then Slowly courtesying back again, Long ago.

Modern ways are quite alarming, Grandma says; but boys were charming-- Girls and boys, I mean, of course-- Long ago.

Bravely modest, grandly shy-- Now she sits there rocking, rocking, Always knitting grandpa's stocking, Every girl was taught to knit, Long ago.

Yet her figure is so neat, And her smile so staid and sweet, I can almost see her now Bending to her partner's bow, Long ago.

Grandma says our modern jumping, Hopping, rushing, whirling, b.u.mping Would have shocked the gentlefolk, Long ago.

What if all of us should try Just to feel like those who met In the graceful minuet, Long ago?

With the minuet in fashion, Who could fly into a pa.s.sion?

All would wear the calm they wore, Long ago.

In time to come, if I perchance Should tell my grandchild of our dance I should really like to say: "We did, dear, in some such way, Long ago."

AUNT JAN

BY NORMAN GALE

When Aunt Jan's coming there's such romping in the house, She's sweeter than a daffodil and softer than a mouse!

She sings about the pa.s.sages, and never wants to rest, And father says it's all because a bird is in her breast.

When Aunt Jan's kissing there's such a crowding round her knees, Such clambers to her bosom, and such battles for a squeeze!

We dirty both her snowy cuffs, we trample on her gown, And sometimes all her yellow hair comes tumbling, tumbling down.

When Aunt Jan's dancing we all watch her as she goes, With in-and-out and round-about upon her shiny toes; And when her merry breath is tired she stops the fun and stands To curtsy saucily to us, or kiss her pretty hands.

When Aunt Jan's playing, the piano seems alive, With all the notes as busy as the bees are in a hive; And when it's time for Bedfordshire, as sweetly as a lark She sings that G.o.d is waiting to protect us in the dark.

When Aunt Jan's leaving we are not ashamed to cry, A-kissing at the station and a-waving her good-by; But springtime brings the crocus after winter, rain and frost So dear Aunt Jan will come again. She isn't really lost.

AFTER TEA

Very often in the evening, Shortly after tea, Father, when he's read the paper, Takes me on his knee.

There I fix myself "quite comfy,"

In his arms so strong, While he makes up lovely stories As he goes along.

Mother near us with her sewing, Rocking to and fro, Smiles and listens to the stories, Likes them too, I know.

And I'm sure that she is thinking, What perhaps you've guessed, That the stories Father tells us Are the very best.

#AMUSING ALPHABETS#