"The little girl used to feed the chickens too, and the foolish old turkey that was so fond of her it would run after her until she screamed and was afraid. The dear father and the little girl came out every morning, while the black pigs looked through the bars of the farm-yard gate and grunted at them, as if they were glad, and I think the ducks knew that the father had made the pond, for they swam round and round it proudly while he watched them, but when he went away they seemed tired and sad.

"The pond is not there now, baby, for a man came by one day and made it into a ditch again; and the chickens and the ducks from the farm are kept in another place.

"The little girl is far away in her own home, which the father made for her, and the dear father lives in his own home too--in the hearts of those he loved."

That was the story that Bridget told the baby.

THE LITTLE MAID.

There is a sweet maiden asleep by the sea, Her lips are as red as a cherry; The roses are resting upon her brown cheeks-- Her cheeks that are brown as a berry.

She's tired of building up castles of sand, Her hands they are gritty and grubby; Her shoes, they are wet, and her legs, they are bare, Her legs that are st.u.r.dy and chubby.

I'll wrap a shawl round you, my dear little maid, To keep the wind off you completely, And soft I will sing you a lullaby song, And soon you will slumber most sweetly.

THE DONKEY ON WHEELS.

There was once a poor little donkey on wheels. It had never wagged its tail, or tossed its head, or said, "Hee-haw!" or tasted a tender thistle. It always went about, anywhere that anyone pulled it, on four wooden wheels, carrying a foolish knight, who wore a large c.o.c.ked hat and a long cloak, because he had no legs. Now, a man who has no legs, and rides a donkey on wheels, has little cause for pride; but the knight was haughty, and seldom remembered his circ.u.mstances. So the donkey suffered sorely, and in many ways.

One day the donkey and the knight were on the table in front of the child to whom they both belonged. She was cutting out a little doll's frock with a large pair of scissors.

"Mistress," said the knight, "this donkey tries my temper. Will you give me some spurs?"

"Oh, no, sir knight," the child answered. "You would hurt the poor donkey; besides, you have no heels to put them on."

"Cruel knight!" exclaimed the donkey. "Make him get off, dear mistress; I will carry him no longer."

"Let him stay," said the child, gently; "he has no legs, and cannot walk."

"Then why did he want spurs?"

"Just the way of the world, dear donkey; just the way of the world."

"Ah!" sighed the donkey, "some ways are very trying, especially the world's;" and then it said no more, but thought of the fields it would never see, and the thistles it would never taste.

c.o.c.k-A-DOODLE.

I know a lovely d.i.c.ky-bird, A c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo;-- My father and my mother And my sister know it too.

It struts about so gaily, And it is brave and strong; And when it crows, it is a crow, Both very loud and long.

Oh, "c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo," it crows, And c.o.c.k-a-doodle won't Leave off its c.o.c.k-a-doodling, When mother dear cries "Don't!"

THE BOY AND LITTLE GREAT LADY.

She was always called the "little great lady," for she lived in a grand house, and was very rich. He was a strange boy; the little great lady never knew whence he came, or whither he went. She only saw him when the snow lay deep upon the ground. Then in the early morning he swept a pathway to the stable in which she had once kept a white rabbit. When it was quite finished, she came down the steps in her white dress and little thin shoes, with bows on them, and walked slowly along the pathway. It was always swept so dry she might have worn paper shoes without getting them wet. At the far end he always stood waiting till she came, and smiled and said, "Thank you, little boy," and pa.s.sed on.

Then he was no more seen till the next snowy morning, when again he swept the pathway; and again the little great lady came down the steps in her dainty shoes, and went on her way to the stable.

But at last, one morning when the snow lay white and thick, and she came down the steps as usual, there was no pathway. The little boy stood leaning on a spade, his feet buried deep in the snow.

"Where is your broom? and where is the pathway to the rabbit house?"

she asked.

"The rabbit is dead, and the broom is worn out," he answered; "and I am tired of making pathways that lead to empty houses."

"But why have you done it so long?" she asked.

"You have bows on your shoes," he said; "and they are so thin you could not walk over the snow in them--why, you would catch your death of cold," he added, scornfully.

"What would you do if I wore boots?"

"I should go and learn how to build ships, or paint pictures, or write books. But I should not think of you so much," he said.

The little great lady answered eagerly, "Go and learn how to do all those things; I will wait till you come back and tell me what you have done," and she turned and went into the house.

"Good-bye," the boy said, as he stood watching for a moment the closed door; "dear little great lady, good-bye." And he went along the unmade pathway beyond the empty rabbit house.

GOOD-DAY, GENTLE FOLK.

Oh, yes, sir and miss, I have been to the town; It really was pleasant and gay; But now I must hurry, the sun's going down, And so I will wish you good-day.

And so I will wish you good-day, gentle folk, And so I will wish you good-day.

I know a white rabbit just over the hill, He's eating a lettuce for tea; And a fat speckled duck, with a very large bill, Is quacking, "Oh, where can she be?"

And two little mice are there, standing quite still, They're all of them waiting for me.

For we all love the stars and the little pale moon, Beneath them we frolic and play; My friends have been waiting the whole afternoon, And so I will wish you good-day.

And so I will wish you good-day, gentle folk, And so I will wish you good-day.