Our Young Folks at Home and Abroad Part 29

"Time enough yet," his constant refrain; "Summer is still just on the wane."

Listen, my child, while I tell you his fate: He roused him at last, but he roused him too late.

Down fell the snow from a pitiless cloud, And gave little rabbit a spotless white shroud.

Two little boys in a school-room were placed; One always perfect, the other disgraced.

"Time enough yet for my learning," he said; "I will climb by-and-by, from the foot to the head."

Listen, my darling--their locks are turned gray; One, as a governor, sitteth to-day.

The other, a pauper, looks out at the door Of the alms-house, and idles his days as of yore.

Two kinds of people we meet every day; One is at work, the other at play, Living uncared for, dying unknown.-- The busiest hive hath ever a drone.

Tell me, my child, if the rabbits have taught, The lesson I longed to impart in your thought.

Answer me this, and my story is done, Which of the two will you be, little one?

THE MOUSE WEDDING.

d.i.c.k Sly was the smartest mouse in Mousetown. He knew any kind of a new trap that was set to catch him, and he always warned the rest. The houses in Mousetown are called "holes," you know. Next to the hole where d.i.c.k lived with his parents was the hole where pretty Nan Spry lived. She could run faster than any mouse in Mousetown; even d.i.c.k could not catch her, if she tried to run away from him. At last it was told in Mousetown that d.i.c.k and Nan were to be married, and every body said, "What a grand pair they'll make." Judge Mouse, who married them, put on his best gold spectacles, and they were married on a big wedding cake, which some folks called a "cheese." Every one in Mousetown had a bit of it, and declared it to be the best wedding cake they had ever eaten.

SHE HAD NEVER SEEN A TREE.

They took the little London girl, from out the city street, To where the gra.s.s was growing green, the birds were singing sweet; And every thing along the road, so filled her with surprise, The look of wonder fixed itself, within her violet eyes.

The breezes ran to welcome her; they kissed her on each cheek, And tried in every way they could, their ecstacy to speak, Inviting her to romp with them, and tumbling up her curls, Expecting she would laugh or scold, like other little girls.

But she didn't--no she didn't; for this crippled little child Had lived within a dingy court, where sunshine never smiled; And for weary, weary days and months, the little one had lain Confined within a narrow room, and on a couch of pain.

The out-door world was strange to her--the broad expanse of sky, The soft, green gra.s.s, the pretty flowers, the stream that trickled by; But all at once she saw a sight, that made her hold her breath, And shake and tremble as if she were frightened near to death.

Oh, like some horrid monster, of which the child had dreamed, With nodding head, and waving arms, the angry creature seemed; It threatened her, it mocked at her, with gestures and grimace That made her shrink with terror, from its serpent-like embrace.

They kissed the trembling little one; they held her in their arms, And tried in every way they could to quiet her alarms, And said, "Oh, what a foolish little girl you are, to be So nervous and so terrified, at nothing but a tree!"

They made her go up close to it, and put her arms around The trunk, and see how firmly it was fastened in the ground; They told her all about the roots, that clung down deeper yet, And spoke of other curious things, she never would forget.

Oh, I have heard of many, very many girls and boys Who have to do without the sight, of pretty books and toys-- Who have never seen the ocean; but the saddest thought to me Is that any where there lives a child, who never saw a tree.

A FUNNY HORSE.

Knock! Knock! Knock! I've been before this block More than half an hour, I should say; I am standing in the sun, while Miss Lucy lingers on, Talking of the fashions of the day.

It is a trick you know, she taught me long ago, But now I am in earnest, not in play; And the world is very wide, to a horse that isn't tied, I've a mind to go and ask the price of hay.

There's a nail in my shoe that needs fixing too, And I want a drink more than I can say; How I could run, with my dandy harness on!

But it's such a mean thing to run away.

Rap! Tap! Tap! That's enough to break a nap-- There she comes, and is laughing at the way I brought her to the door, when she wouldn't come before, That's a trick worth playing any day.

MRS. GIMSON'S SUMMER BOARDERS.

It was recess at the school-house at the cross roads, and three country girls gathered round a companion, whose unhappy face showed that something had gone wrong.

"Is this your last day at school, Lucindy?" asked Carrie Hess, a girl of fifteen, and the eldest of the three sisters.

"Yes, this is my last day, thanks to the summer boarders. I can't bear to think of them. I hate them!"

"Will you have to work harder than you do now?" asked Freda, who was next younger to Carrie.

"I don't mind the work so much as I do their impudent airs, and their stuck-up ways. I wont be ordered around, and if Auntie thinks I'm going to be a black slave, she'll find she's mistaken."

Lucindy's face flushed, and she appeared to be greatly in earnest.

"I'd be glad to have them come to our house, they have such nice clothes," said Lena, the youngest and most mischievous.

"Yes, it's very nice, I must say, to go around in old duds, and have a girl that's not a whit better in any way than you, only she's been to a city school and has a rich father, turn up her nose at you, and perhaps make fun of you, with her white dresses and her silk dresses, and her gaiter boots."

"Can't we come to your house any more? Can't we come to play?" asked Carrie.

"Oh, can't we come?" said the other two, almost in a breath.

"No, Auntie told me this morning, that I must tell you and the rest of the girls, that it wouldn't be convenient to have you come, as you have done; you are not stylish enough for Miss Hattie Randolph to a.s.sociate with, I suppose."

The girls looked really disappointed. Lucindy was a great favorite, and a leader, fearless and successful in all escapades that required originality and coolness, and her company would be sorely missed. Her aunt had indulged her in all the dress and amus.e.m.e.nt she could afford, and her companions had always been welcome to visit at the house, but now there was a necessity for her services, and play could not be indulged in so often for the rest of the summer, as the household needed the avails, if not the presence of summer boarders.

"Is she older than we?" asked Carrie.

"No, but she's lived all her life in the city, and feels above everybody. She and her brother and her mother will just take possession of our piazza and door-yard, and our swing; and I can wash dishes, and sit on the back door-step, and never see a girl from one month's end to another." Here Lucindy burst out crying.

"It's too bad," said Carrie.

The little Lena, ever fertile in invention, crept near, and putting her arms around Lucindy's neck, whispered:

"We'll come to see you on the sly, and we can go down in the fields and have fun, when your Auntie goes out for an afternoon."