Golden Moments Part 14

"Yes; here it is, but it is only a picture of a rabbit," said Mrs. Wolf.

"That is right," said Lina: "we all looked at that picture, and then we had to shut the book and write what we could about The Rabbit. And the little girl next me put, 'The rabbit moves his nose when he eats;' and that was all she wrote. We did so laugh when she had to read it out."

"A very short essay, certainly," said Mrs. Wolf, laughing also; "still, it is strictly true, and that is something. But what did my little Lina write?"

"I'll show you, mother," said Lina; and, with a deep blush on her face, she drew her slate carefully out of her bag. "The mistress was pleased with it, and told me I might show it to you."

Lina's slate had on it a really spirited little sketch of two rabbits, and Mrs. Wolf was both surprised and delighted.

"Did you do this, Lina?" she asked, as she drew the little artist to her.

"I couldn't think of anything to write," said Lina shyly; "I never can; so I drew the rabbits instead."

"My darling," said her mother earnestly, "if you work hard you might one day be a great artist--I feel sure of it."

Mrs. Wolf's words came true in after years. Lina is now a well-known painter, and honors not a few have fallen to her share.

But that day in the garden, when mother first prophesied that she would be an artist, is still the day that Lina loves most to recall. "It was mother's praise that made an artist of me," she always declares.

THE CAPTAIN

by F. Wyville Home.

I.

I should like to be the captain of a great big ship, And to take her out a sailing for a long sea trip.

I would visit all the islands of the hot south seas, And the white and shining regions where the ice-bergs freeze.

II.

I would have a little cabin fitted up quite smart, With a swinging berth, a spygla.s.s, and a deep sea chart, And beads to please the savages in isles far hence, And a parrot who can whistle tunes and talk good sense.

III.

When a storm of wind arises, and the great waves swell, We will scud along the billows like a blown foam-bell, When 'tis gla.s.sy calm beneath a sky without one fleck, I'll play a game of skittles on the calm smooth deck.

IV.

And if the crew should mutiny on some dark night, With my left I'd seize a cutla.s.s and a pistol in my right, And I'd show them that their Captain has a right bold heart, And I'd make each man an officer that took my part.

THE DOLL THAT TAUGHT A LESSON.

"Good-by, Annie dear; mind and take good care of Dorrie."

"Yes, mamma."

Ah! Annie, how easy it is to make a promise! A hearty kiss sealed it; then Mrs. Roby drove away in her carriage, and so our story begins.

Mamma gone out to spend the day, Annie left at home to take care of Dorrie, while nurse was cleaning the nurseries. Annie was six, Ralph, her brother, seven, Dorrie four, and the "funniest little puppet in all England," so Ralph said.

"Annie, I _do fink_ Mab could walk almost by herself with these boots on," said Dorrie, she and Annie back in the dining-room, Dorrie busy with a family of three dolls, Annie deep in a new story-book.

The wee mamma had just contrived to put a pair of new boots, of Annie's manufacturing, on the by no means elegant feet of shock-headed Mab. Next came the suggestion from silver-tongued Dorrie, as Annie was silent--

"I _fink_ Mab and Alice ought to go for a walk. Baby is just gone to sleep;" and the mite was laid carefully among the sofa cushions.

"Very well." Down went the book; with that promise just spoken, Annie could not well do other than go this walk with her little sister, yet in a listless, half-hearted way.

"You take the one hand, I the other;" so prattled Dorrie. "Oh! see her feet!" and certainly Miss Mab did trip it out right nimbly down to the gate. How Dorrie laughed, watching her.

Just outside the gate they met Ralph.

"What are you laughing at, old lady?" he asked.

"Because Mab can almost walk by herself," she told him.

"Then she'll be running away one of these days," said the boy.

"Oh! she wouldn't--she wouldn't run away from me, because I love her so;" and Dorrie stooped and gave her a sounding kiss.

"You just wait and see," was Ralph's answer; then he went on, and the sisters pursued their walk.

Back again, then dinner for the children, a long sleep for the dollies, and next, the golden afternoon to be lived through and enjoyed.

"Annie!" cried Dorrie, coming down from the nursery, and peering in at the dining-room, where Annie was now reading with a will, deep in the wildest tragedy of the story, where a dog, a gypsy, and a certain Sophia were playing their parts in real story-book fashion. "Annie!" so silvery-tongued Dorrie spoke her name again.

"Well, what?" was the unladylike answer from Annie.

"I _fink_ the dollies want to go out in their mail-cart."

"Well, take them."

"But I want you to come."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't; run away."

"Must I go alone?" asked Dorrie sadly.