"Here are the swallows," they said; "perhaps they have come from England. Dear swallows, have you brought us a message?" they asked.

"It was very cold, we had no time for messages; and we must not lose the track of summer," the swallows twittered, and they flew on till they reached the African sh.o.r.e.

"Poor little swallows," said the English children, as they watched the ship come into port that was to take them back to their own land; "they have to chase the summer and the sun, but we do not mind whether it is summer or winter, for if we only keep our hearts warm, the rest does not matter."

"It is very good of the swallows to come to us," the elder sister said, in the next spring, when she heard their first soft twitter beneath the eaves, "for the summer is in many places, and we are so far from the south."

"Yes, it is very good of them to come," the children answered; "dear little swallows, perhaps they love us!"

A FIRST LOVE-MAKING.

A land there is beyond the sea That I have never seen, But Johnny says he'll take me there, And I shall be a queen.

He'll build for me a palace there, Its roof will be of thatch, And it will have a little porch And everything to match.

And he'll give me a garden-green, And he'll give me a crown Of flowers that love the wood and field And never grow in town.

And we shall be so happy there, And never, never part, And I shall be the grandest queen-- The queen of Johnny's heart.

Then, Johnny, man your little boat To sail across the sea; There's only room for king and queen-- For Johnny and for me.

And, Johnny dear, I'm not afraid Of any wind or tide, For I am always safe, my dear, If you are by my side.

s.m.u.t.

Now, this story is quite true. Once upon a time there was a cat called Mr. Puff; he lived in a grand house, quite close to the Turkish Emba.s.sy. A lord and a lady and several servants lived with Mr. Puff; he was very kind to them, letting them do in all things as they liked, and never sending them away or keeping the house to himself. One day Mr.

Puff, being out in the rain, found a poor little kitten, covered with mud, and crying bitterly: so Mr. Puff took the kitten between his teeth, carried it home, and set it down on the drawing-room hearth-rug.

The lord and the lady had the kitten washed, and gave it food, and called it s.m.u.t. Then s.m.u.t went and sat him down on the lord's writing-table.

When s.m.u.t grew to be a cat, but before he was yet a large one, the lord and the lady thought awhile, and spoke, "We have a dear friend," they said, "and he is catless; therefore, if Mr. Puff will agree, we will take s.m.u.t to him as a present." And Mr. Puff agreed. So s.m.u.t was put into a birdcage, for there was nothing else to serve him for a travelling carriage, and taken to the dear friend's house. The dear friend had a little girl with golden hair, and when she saw s.m.u.t, she cried out for joy, and said, "Never before did I see a d.i.c.ky-bird with a furry coat, a long tail, and little white teeth." But s.m.u.t shook his head, as if to say, "I am not a d.i.c.ky-bird, sweet maid, but only a four-legged cat;" then they opened the birdcage door, and he walked out, waving his tail.

Now, when s.m.u.t grew up, his gravity and dignity made all who knew his history wonder, and few could believe that he had once been a dirty kitten, covered with mud, glad to accept the charity of Mr. Puff. When a year had gone, or perhaps even a longer time, there was a great war in Turkey, and terrible battles were fought. Then s.m.u.t looked very anxious, and went quite bald, and his coat fell off in little patches; but none could tell why. At last he died, and the little girl wept sorely, and all who had known him grieved and lamented.

And when s.m.u.t had been sleeping only a little while beneath the lilac tree, accident revealed that, instead of a lowly foundling, he had been of high degree, for the little vagrant Mr. Puff had found was no less a person than the Turkish Amba.s.sador's coachman's wife's cat's kitten.

SEE-SAW.

Get into the boat and away to the west, See-saw! see-saw!

For they've cut down the tree with the poor linnet's nest, See-saw! see-saw!

The bulrushes nod and the water-lilies sigh, See-saw! see-saw!

And all of us know the sad reason why, See-saw! see-saw!

For, oh! the tree--the tree's cut down, And every one of its leaves are brown; And in the field the children play, But the little linnet has flown away: Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!

THE BAD GIRL.

She was always called the bad girl, for she had once, when she was very little, put out her tongue at the postman. She lived alone with her grandmother and her three brothers in the cottage beyond the field, and the girls in the village took no notice of her. The bad girl did not mind this, for she was always thinking of the cuckoo clock. The clock stood in one corner of the cottage, and every hour a door opened at the top of its face, and a little cuckoo came out and called its name just the same number of times that the clock ought to have struck, and called it so loudly and in so much haste that the clock was afraid to strike at all. The bad girl was always wondering whether it was worse for the clock to have a cupboard in its forehead, and a bird that was always hopping in and out, or for the poor cuckoo to spend so much time in a dark little prison. "If it could only get away to the woods," she said to herself, "who knows but its voice might grow sweet, and even life itself might come to it!" She thought of the clock so much that her grandmother used to say--

"Ah, la.s.sie, if you would only think of me sometimes!" But the bad girl would answer--

"You are not in prison, granny dear, and you have not even a bee in your bonnet, let alone a bird in your head. Why should I think of you?"

One day, close by the farm, she saw the big girls from the school gathering flowers.

"Give me one," she said; "perhaps the cuckoo would like it." But they all cried, "No, no!" and tried to frighten her away. "They are for the little one's birthday. To-morrow she will be seven years old," they said, "and she is to have a crown of flowers and a cake, and all the afternoon we shall play merry games with her."

"Is she unhappy, that you are taking so much trouble for her?" asked the bad girl.

"Oh, no; she is very happy: but it will be her birthday, and we want to make her happier."

"Why?"

"Because we love her," said one;

"Because she is so little," said another;

"Because she is alive," said a third.

"Are all things that live to be loved and cared for?" the bad girl asked, but they were too busy to listen, so she went on her way thinking; and it seemed as if all things round--the birds, and bees, and the rustling leaves, and the little tender wild flowers, half hidden in the gra.s.s--answered, as she went along--

"Yes, they are all to be cared for and made happier, if it be possible."

"The cuckoo clock is not alive," she thought. "Oh, no; it is not alive," the trees answered; "but many things that do not live have voices, and many others are just sign-posts, pointing the way."

"The way! The way to what, and where?"

"We find out for ourselves;--we must all find out for ourselves," the trees sighed and whispered to each other.

As the bad girl entered the cottage, the cuckoo called out its name eleven times, but she did not even look up. She walked straight across to the chair by the fireside, and kneeling down, kissed her granny's hands.

MORNING TIME.