There! little girl; don't cry!

They have broken your doll, I know; And your tea-set blue, And your play-house, too, Are things of the long ago; But childish troubles will soon pa.s.s by.-- There! little girl; don't cry!

There! little girl; don't cry!

They have broken your slate, I know; And the glad, wild ways Of your school-girl days Are things of the long ago; But life and love will soon come by.-- There! little girl; don't cry!

There! little girl; don't cry!

They have broken your heart, I know; And the rainbow gleams Of your youthful dreams Are things of the long ago; But Heaven holds all for which you sigh.-- There! little girl; don't cry!

[Ill.u.s.tration: But Heaven hold all for which you sigh]

A HOME-MADE FAIRY-TALE

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Home-made Fairy-Tale--t.i.tle]

Bud, come here to your Uncle a spell, And I'll tell you something you mustn't tell-- For it's a secret and sh.o.r.e-nuff true, And maybe I oughtn't to tell it to you!-- But out in the garden, under the shade Of the apple-trees where we romped and played Till the moon was up, and you thought I'd gone Fast asleep.--That was all put on!

For I was a-watchin' something queer Goin' on there in the gra.s.s, my dear!

'Way down deep in it, there I see A little dude-Fairy who winked at me, And snapped his fingers, and laughed as low And fine as the whine of a mus-kee-to!

I kept still--watchin' him closer--and I noticed a little guitar in his hand, Which he leant 'ginst a little dead bee--and laid His cigarette down on a clean gra.s.s-blade; And then climbed up on the sh.e.l.l of a snail-- Carefully dusting his swallowtail-- And pulling up, by a waxed web-thread, This little guitar, you remember, I said!

And there he trinkled and trilled a tune-- "My Love, so Fair, Tans in the Moon!"

Till presently, out of the clover-top He seemed to be singing to, came k'pop!

The purtiest, daintiest Fairy face In all this world, or any place!

Then the little ser'nader waved his hand, As much as to say, "We'll excuse _you_!" and I heard, as I squinted my eyelids to, A kiss like the drip of a drop of dew!

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Little Dude-Fairy]

THE BEAR STORY

THAT ALEX "IST MAKED UP HIS-OWN-SE'F"

W'y, wunst they wuz a Little Boy went out In the woods to shoot a Bear. So, he went out 'Way in the grea'-big woods--he did.--An' he Wuz goin' along--an' goin' along, you know, An' purty soon he heerd somepin' go "_Wooh!"_-- Ist thataway--"_Woo-ooh!"_ An' he wuz _skeered_, He wuz. An' so he runned an' clumbed a tree-- A grea'-big tree, he did,--a sicka-_more_ tree.

An' nen he heerd it ag'in: an' he looked round, An' _'t'uz a Bear!--a grea'-big sh.o.r.e-nuff Bear!_-- No: 't'uz _two_ Bears, it wuz--two grea'-big Bears-- _One_ of 'em wuz--ist _one's_ a _grea'-big_ Bear.-- But they ist _boff_ went "_Wooh!_"--An' here _they_ come To climb the tree an' git the Little Boy An' eat him up!

An' nen the Little Boy He 'uz skeered worse'n ever! An' here come The grea'-big Bear a-climbin' th' tree to git The Little Boy an' eat him up--Oh, _no!_-- It 'uzn't the _Big_ Bear 'at clumb the tree-- It 'uz the _Little_ Bear. So here _he_ come Climbin' the tree--an' climbin' the tree! Nen when He git wite _clos't_ to the Little Boy, w'y nen The Little Boy he ist pulled up his gun An' _shot_ the Bear, he did, an' killed him dead!

An' nen the Bear he falled clean on down out The tree--away clean to the ground, he did-- _Spling-splung!_ he falled _plum_ down, an' killed him, too!

An' lit wite side o' where the _Big_ Bear's at.

An' nen the Big Bear's awful mad, you bet!-- 'Cause--'cause the Little Boy he shot his gun An' killed the _Little_ Bear.--'Cause the _Big_ Bear He--he 'uz the Little Bear's Papa.--An' so here _He_ come to climb the big old tree an' git The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' when The Little Boy he saw the _grea'-big Bear_ A-comin', he uz badder skeered, he wuz, Than _any_ time! An' so he think he'll climb Up _higher_--'way up higher in the tree Than the old _Bear_ kin climb, you know.--But he-- He _can't_ climb higher 'an old _Bears_ kin climb,-- 'Cause Bears kin climb up higher in the trees Than any little Boys in all the Wo-r-r-ld!

An' so here come the grea'-big-Bear, he did,-- A-climbin' up--an' up the tree, to git The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' so The Little Boy he clumbed on higher, an' higher, An' higher up the tree--an' higher--an' higher-- An' higher'n iss-here _house_ is!--An' here come Th' old Bear--clos'ter to him all the time!-- An' nen--first thing you know,--when th' old Big Bear Wuz wite clos't to him--nen the Little Boy Ist jabbed his gun wite in the old Bear's mouf An' shot an' killed him dead!--No; I _fergot_,-- He didn't shoot the grea'-big Bear at all-- 'Cause _they 'uz no load in the gun_, you know-- 'Cause when he shot the _Little_ Bear, w'y, nen No load 'uz anymore nen _in_ the gun!

But th' Little Boy clumbed _higher_ up, he did-- He clumbed _lots_ higher--an' on up _higher_--an' higher An' _higher_--tel he ist _can't_ climb no higher, 'Cause nen the limbs 'uz all so little, 'way Up in the teeny-weeny tip-top of The tree, they'd break down wiv him ef he don't Be keerful! So he stop an' think: An' nen He look around--An' here come th' old Bear!

An' so the Little Boy make up his mind He's got to ist git out o' there _some_ way!-- 'Cause here come the old Bear!--so clos't, his bref's Purt 'nigh so's he kin feel how hot it is Ag'inst his bare feet--ist like old "Ring's" bref When he's ben out a-huntin' an's all tired.

So when th' old Bear's so clos't--the Little Boy Ist gives a grea'-big jump fer '_nother_ tree-- No!--no he don't do that!--I tell you what The Little Boy does:--W'y, nen--w'y, he--Oh, _yes_-- The Little Boy _he finds a hole up there 'At's in the tree_--an' climbs in there an' _hides_-- An' _nen_ th' old Bear can't find the Little Boy At all!--But, purty soon th' old Bear finds The Little Boy's _gun_ 'at's up there--'cause the _gun_ It's too _tall_ to tooked wiv him in the hole.

So, when the old Bear fin' the _gun_, he knows The Little Boy's ist _hid_ 'round _somers_ there,-- An' th' old Bear 'gins to snuff an' sniff around, An' sniff an' snuff around--so's he kin find Out where the Little Boy's hid at.--An' nen--nen-- Oh, _yes!_--W'y, purty soon the old Bear climbs 'Way out on a big limb--a grea'-long limb,-- An' nen the Little Boy climbs out the hole An' takes his ax an' chops the limb off!... Nen The old Bear falls _k-splunge!_ clean to the ground An' bust an' kill hisse'f plum dead, he did!

An' nen the Little Boy he git his gun An' 'menced a-climbin' down the tree ag'in-- No!--no, he _didn't_ git his _gun_--'cause when The _Bear_ falled, nen the _gun_ falled, too--An' broked It all to pieces, too!--An' _nicest_ gun!-- His Pa ist buyed it!--An' the Little Boy Ist cried, he did; an' went on climbin' down The tree--an' climbin' down--an' climbin' down!-- _An'-sir!_ when he 'uz purt'-nigh down,--w'y, nen _The old Bear he jumped up ag'in_--an' he Ain't dead at all--ist _'tendin'_ thataway, So he kin git the Little Boy an' eat Him up! But the Little Boy he 'uz too smart To climb clean _down_ the tree.--An' the old Bear He can't climb _up_ the tree no more--'cause when He fell, he broke one of his--he broke _all_ His legs!--an' nen he _couldn't_ climb! But he Ist won't go'way an' let the Little Boy Come down out of the tree. An' the old Bear Ist growls 'round there, he does--ist growls an' goes "_Wooh!--woo-ooh!"_ all the time! An' Little Boy He haf to stay up in the tree--all night-- An' 'thout no _supper_ neether!--On'y they Wuz _apples_ on the tree!--An' Little Boy Et apples--ist all night--an' cried--an' cried!

Nen when 'tuz morning th' old Bear went _"Wooh!"_ Ag'in, an' try to climb up in the tree An' git the Little Boy.--But he _can't_ Climb t'save his _soul_, he can't!--An' _oh!_ he's _mad!_-- He ist tear up the ground! an' go _"Woo-ooh!"_ An'--_Oh, yes!_--purty soon, when morning's come All _light_--so's you kin _see_, you know,--w'y, nen The old Bear finds the Little Boy's _gun_, you know, 'At's on the ground.--(An' it ain't broke at all-- I ist _said_ that!) An' so the old Bear think He'll take the gun an' _shoot_ the Little Boy:-- But _Bears they_ don't know much 'bout shootin' guns; So when he go to shoot the Little Boy, The old Bear got the _other_ end the gun Ag'in' his shoulder, 'stid o' _th' other_ end-- So when he try to shoot the Little Boy, It shot _the Bear_, it did--an' killed him dead!

An' nen the Little Boy clumb down the tree An' chopped his old woolly head off:--Yes, an' killed The _other_ Bear ag'in, he did--an' killed All _boff_ the bears, he did--an' tuk 'em home An' _cooked_ 'em, too, an' _et_ 'em!

--An' that's all.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ENVOY]

ENVOY

Many pleasures of youth have been buoyantly sung-- And, borne on the winds of delight, may they beat With their palpitant wings at the hearts of the Young, And in bosoms of Age find as warm a retreat!-- Yet sweetest of all of the musical throng, Though least of the numbers that upward aspire, Is the one rising now into wavering song, As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire.

'Tis a Winter long dead that beleaguers my door And m.u.f.fles his steps in the snows of the past: And I see, in the embers I'm dreaming before, Lost faces of love as they looked on me last:-- The round, laughing eyes of the desk-mate of old Gleam out for a moment with truant desire-- Then fade and are lost in a City of Gold, As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire.

And then comes the face, peering back in my own, Of a shy little girl, with her lids drooping low, As she faltering tells, in a far-away tone, The ghost of a story of long, long ago.-- Then her dewy blue eyes they are lifted again; But I see their glad light slowly fail and expire, As I reach and cry to her in vain, all in vain!-- As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire.

Then the face of a Mother looks back, through the mist Of tears that are welling; and, lucent with light, I see the dear smile of the lips I have kissed As she knelt by my cradle at morning and night; And my arms are outheld, with a yearning too wild For any but G.o.d in His love to inspire, As she pleads at the foot of His throne for her child,-- As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire.

O pathos of rapture! O glorious pain!

My heart is a blossom of joy over-run With a shower of tears, as a lily with rain That weeps in the shadow and laughs in the sun.

The blight of the frost may descend on the tree, And the leaf and the flower may fall and expire, But ever and ever love blossoms for me, As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire.