Golden Days for Boys and Girls Part 20

WHAT THEY DO WHEN IT RAINS.

By Carrie Cathcart Day.

"Where do you go, Sweet, happy bird, When wild winds blow And storms are heard?

Do you not dread the rushing rain, And wish the sky was bright again?"

"Tweet oh! I fly To nestlings near-- To hush their cry, And soothe their fear; And o'er them all my wings I fold, To keep them safely from the cold."

"Where do you run, Dear little duck?

Is the rain fun, And best of luck?"

"Oh, yes! Quack! quack! I swim in glee, It never pours too hard for me!"

"Of course, good sheep, You do not care-- Out-doors you keep Through foul and fair; Your coat is surely thick enough To shield you from a tempest rough?"

"Baa! baa! baa! baa!

I let the geese Have all the wet; For should my fleece All soaking get, 'Twould be too heavy for my play-- So to my shed I skip away."

"Why do you croak So long and loud, Queer froggie folk, When comes a cloud?"

"Cree-crake! cree-crake!

Because our pollywogs, we know, When ponds are full will nicely grow!"

"But, b.u.mble-bee, Your gauzy wings, It seems to me, Are flimsy things; Should they get drenched, 'twould spoil them quite, And you'd be in a sorry plight!"

"I crawl beneath A lily bell-- A lovely sheath That suits me well, And when--buzz! buzz!--the sun I greet, The roses all are fresh and sweet."

"Well, surely you, My little lad, Feel very blue In weather sad?

You mope and fret and whine and frown, To see the torrents driving down!"

"Oh, ho! oh, ho!

You do not know; For _thus_, you see, My trowsers go Up to my knee; I make believe to wade and splash In puddles nice, with Puss and Dash, And we pretend the shower pours As hard _within_ as out of doors!"

JACK-A-DANDY.

BY HELEN WHITNEY CLARK.

We children had been wishing for a tame crow ever since reading d.i.c.kens'

charming description of his pet raven. There were no ravens where we lived; but Brother Tom said crows were just as good, and could be taught to talk, too.

And one day, when we were playing "Here we go round the mulberry bush"

in the woods near the house, little Ikey, our colored washerwoman's boy, came along with a live crow in his hands.

Of course we were curious to see and examine the wonderful bird, and we crowded around Ikey, who seemed bewildered at being the object of so much attention.

"Where did you get him?" "What you going to do with him?" "How much will you take for him?" asked Tom, Josie and Fred, in one breath.

But Ikey only grinned, as he answered each in turn.

"Got him out of his nest in a post-oak. Dey was more of 'em, but I couldn't git ony dis one. I'm a-gwine to raise him if mammy'll let me.

But I mout sell him, if I git a good chance."

The opportunity was not to be lost, and in a very few moments Ikey was trudging homeward with a handful of coppers and two nickels--all the change we could raise among us, and we proudly carried our new-found treasure to the house.

"Mercy on us!" cried mamma, holding up her hands. "What on earth have you got there?"

"A crow," we told her. "And we're going to tame him, and teach him to talk."

"Nonsense!" said mamma. "You don't suppose I'll have a _crow_ about the house, to kill the young chickens and eat up the eggs!"

But we begged and pleaded, till at last she gave her consent to let us keep it.

"It'll be a great torment," grumbled grandma. "It's a _young_ bird, and you'll have to feed it like a baby."

But we did not mind the trouble. Indeed, it was more of an amus.e.m.e.nt to us to feed our pet on sc.r.a.ps of meat and bits of bread. It opened its mouth so wide, and cried "Caw-aw-aw!" in such a satisfactory way.

Ikey had instructed us as to the manner of feeding.

"Jess you peck it on de head, an' it'll open its mouth like it does fur de ole birds," he explained.

And we found his advice was good.

We named our pet "Jack-a-Dandy," and he grew and throve so much that he was soon able to procure his own food, which consisted of crickets and other insects.

He was so tame that we could allow him perfect freedom, without any fear of his deserting us.

As he grew older, he used frequently to fly into the top of a tall post-oak near the front door, from which he would circle around and around the house, then alight on the ground, and come hopping in the door, with a cheerful "caw! caw!" as if a.s.serting that there was no place like home.

"He's better than d.i.c.k Hardy's tame squirrel," Tom used to say, "for that has to be kept in a cage."

"And Bob Rooney's pet c.o.o.n has to be fastened by a chain," said Josie.

"But Jack-a-Dandy is as free as we are."

But mamma was not particularly pleased with Jack, and grandma continued to grumble over his misdemeanors, especially when he would rummage in her work-basket, and carry off her silver thimble or bright steel bodkin.

"He's a troublesome creature," she would declare, "and if I had _my_ way, he'd get his neck wrung."

But we kept a good watch on our favorite, to keep him from getting into mischief.

We had used our best endeavors to teach him to talk, but he was a poor scholar, and could not even learn to p.r.o.nounce his own name.

Still we loved him, and continued to take his part against his enemies.

Papa had never said much, one way or the other, about Jack, though he was not very favorably disposed toward the race of crows. But when the spring planting was done, he took sides with the opposition.