Oh, beau-ti-ful tri-um-phant day!
When light of heart and free
from pain,
The pa-tient lad has slipped away,
And “Mon-key Jack”
climbs trees again!
[Illustration]
Here are a num-ber of lit-tle tots, and what do you think they are do-ing? I think the lit-tle girl on her knees is pay-ing for-feits.
A PAIR OF FRIENDS.
[Illustration]
Tab-by and Rover are very good friends, so that she is not at all a-fraid to eat out of his dish when-ev-er she has not din-ner e-nough of her own.
A RAIN-Y DAY.
Rain, rain, rain! How it did rain! The great drops ran down the glass in streams. Tom, Jack, and lit-tle Meg watched it for a long time. “O dear!” they said at last, “do you think it will nev-er clear? We want to go out and play.”
[Illustration]
“Why do you not go up to the gar-ret, and play?” asked their mam-ma.
That struck them as a fine plan; and off they trooped, pound-ing up the bare stairs with their nois-y feet. They found three old brooms, and be-gan to play soldier,—Tom first, then Jack, with Meg last of all. The gar-ret was ver-y large; and their mam-ma could hear them as they tramped a-long, and could hear Tom’s com-mand to right a-bout face when they had reached the farth-er end.
By and by they tired of play-ing sol-dier; and then they pulled down some old dress-es and hats that hung on a peg, and put them on, and made be-lieve that they were grown peo-ple. Then, out of an old box, they dragged a scrap-book full of pic-tures, and sat them down to look them o-ver.
[Illustration]
Mean-time their friend Rose had come, all wrapped up, through the rain, to make them a call. She brought a bas-ket, in which were her two kit-tens.
“The chil-dren are in the gar-ret,” said their mam-ma.
So Rose ran up to find them. She did find them; but what do you think?—they were fast a-sleep.
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Sweet is the voice that calls
From bab-bling wa-ter-falls
In mead-ows where the down-y
seeds are fly-ing,
And soft the breez-es blow,
And ed-dy-ing come and go,
In fad-ed gar-dens where the
rose is dy-ing
THE QUARREL.
[Illustration]
Grace and Bell have had a quar-rel. Bell was most at fault, but now she is ver-y sor-ry for what she has done. So she kiss-es her sis-ter, and the trou-ble is all o-ver.
OLD WINTER.
[Illustration]
Old Win-ter is com-ing; a-lack, a-lack!
How i-cy and cold is he!
He’s wrapped to the heels in a snow-y
white sack;
The trees he has lad-en till read-y to
crack;
He whis-tles his trills with a won-der-ful
knack,
For he comes from a cold coun-tree.