A LITTLE GIRL'S FANCIES

O little flowers, you love me so, You could not do without me; O little birds that come and go, You sing sweet songs about me;

O little moss, observed by few, That round the tree is creeping, You like my head to rest on you, When I am idly sleeping.

O rushes by the river side, You bow when I come near you; O fish, you leap about with pride, Because you think I hear you;

O river, you shine clear and bright, To tempt me to look in you; O water lilies, pure and white, You hope that I shall win you.

O pretty things, you love me so, I see I must not leave you; You'd find it very dull, I know, I should not like to grieve you.

A BOY'S WISHES

Ring-ting! I wish I were a primrose, A bright yellow primrose, blooming in the spring!

The stooping bough above me, The wandering bee to love me, The fern and moss to creep across, And the elm tree for our king!

Nay, stay! I wish I were an elm tree, A great, lofty elm tree with green leaves gay!

The winds would set them dancing, The sun and moonshine glance in, And birds would house among the boughs, And sweetly sing.

Oh, no! I wish I were a robin-- A robin, or a little wren, everywhere to go, Through forest, field, or garden, And ask no leave or pardon, Till winter comes, with icy thumbs, To ruffle up our wing!

--WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

ROLLO AND GEORGE

scream frightened directly treat hurting frightening opposite harsh pushing wheelbarrow enemies tomt.i.t

One day Rollo and his playmate, George Cropwell, were running along the road, pushing their little wheelbarrows.

Just as they came near George's home they saw before them a little boy much smaller than Rollo. He was ragged and barefooted.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"There is Tom," said George. "See how I will frighten him."

As he said this, George rolled his wheelbarrow directly toward Tom as if he were going to run over him. Tom was very much frightened and began to scream.

Just at that moment Farmer Cropwell happened to be coming up the lane on the opposite side of the road. He called out,--

"George!"

George stopped his wheelbarrow.

"Is that right?" said the farmer.

"Why, I was not going to hurt him," said George.

"You did hurt him,--you frightened him."

"Is frightening him hurting him, father?"

"Why, yes; it is giving pain, and a very unpleasant kind of pain, too."

"I did not think of that," said George.

"Besides," said his father, "when you treat boys in that harsh, rough way you make them your enemies. And it is a very bad plan to make enemies."

"Enemies, father!" said George, laughing; "Tom could not do me any harm if he were my enemy."

"That makes me think of the story of the bear and the tomt.i.t," said the farmer. "If you and Rollo will jump into the cart I will tell it to you."

--JACOB ABBOTT.

THE FARMER'S STORY

I.

wolf distance impatient breathe poked scrambled intending pressed terror perhaps troublesome punish

One pleasant summer morning a wolf met a bear in a lonely wood. In a tree near by, a bird was singing.

"Brother," said the bear, "that is very good singing, indeed. What kind of bird do you think it is?"

"That is a tomt.i.t," said the wolf.

"I should like to see his nest. Where do you think it is?" asked the bear.

"Perhaps we shall see if we wait until his mate comes home," said the wolf.

Soon the mother bird came flying with some food in her mouth for her children. She went to the tree where her mate was singing.

"Now, I shall climb the tree," said the bear.

"Not yet," said the wolf. "Wait until the birds leave the nest."