“Well, well, well!” said grandmamma,
    “Only to see the toys,—­
  The marvels of skill and of beauty,
    That are made for these girls and boys!—­
  Velocipedes, acrobats, barrows,
    And a dozen kinds of ball,
  And the beautiful bows and arrows,
    With quivers and belts and all;
  And dolls, with an outfit from Paris,
    With eyes that open and shut,
  With jewelry worth a small fortune,
    And six several bonnets,—­tut, tut!

  “My goodness!  If Polly and Rachel,
    Who played in old times with me,
  In the corner down by the smoke-house,
    These wonderful dolls could see! 
  Rachel’s doll had a round head whittled
    From a bit of soft pine wood;
  And Polly’s was only a corn-cob,
    With a calico slip and hood. 
  My doll was a lovely rag-baby,
    With badly-inked eyes and nose;
  Her cheeks were painted with cherry-juice;
    And I made every stitch of her clothes.

  “Nathan’s bow was a pliant whalebone,
    And his arrow a white-pine stick;
  Such a life as his archery practice
    Led the cats and each wretched chick! 
  Our tea-sets were bits of dishes
    That mother had thrown away,
  With chincapin saucers and acorn-cups;
    And our dolls slept on moss and hay. 
  With a May-apple leaf for a parasol
    We played ‘Lady-come-to-see,’
  Polly’s house was the kitchen door-step,
    And mine was the apple-tree.

  “We never saw ‘Germans’ and ‘Matinees,’
    And we played good romping plays;
  And, somehow, I think we were happier far
    Than the children are nowadays. 
  Our swing was an old, wild grape-vine;
    We waded and climbed and ran,
  And never were weary, nor sick, nor ‘bored’
    From the minute that day began. 
  Well, well, well!” said grandmamma,
    “In spite of their wonderful toys,
  I do believe we had merrier times
    Than these little girls and boys!”

ALICE WILLIAMS BROTHERTON.

[Illustration]

[Illustration:  DRAWING-LESSON.]

THE FISHERMAN’S DAUGHTER.

Amy Cooper lived in a little fishing-village, not far from the cliffs of Dover, in England.  She was the daughter of a poor fisherman, who worked hard for his family.  Mr. Cooper was such a good, kind man, that no one could help loving him.  His children loved him dearly; and no one loved him quite so dearly as his daughter Amy.

She was a thoughtful little girl, and at the time of my story was twelve years old.  She saw that her father’s health was failing through hard work; and the one great thought in her mind was, “How can I help my dear father to earn money for us all?”

This was a hard question, and it was long before Amy could find an answer.  But one day, with her aunt, she took a long walk to Dover.  Here she saw a large hotel, and many well-clad persons in a pleasant park near by.  It was on this visit to Dover that Amy formed a plan about which I am going to tell you.