Aunt Tutie.
SUMMER'S OVER
Summer's over, summer's over!
See, the leaves are falling fast;
Flowers are dying, flowers are dying,
All their beauty's gone at last.
Now the thrush no longer cheers us;
Warbling birds forget to sing;
And the bees have ceased to wander,
Sipping sweets on airy wing.
Winter's coming, winter's coming!
Now his hoary head draws near;
Winds are blowing, winds are blowing;
All around looks cold and drear.
Hope of spring must now support us;
Winter's reign will pass away;
Flowers will bloom, and birds will warble,
Making glad the livelong day.
T. C.
A BAD BLOW
Little David came running home from school one winter afternoon. As he passed through the yard, he saw the door of the cellar-kitchen standing open, and heard some one down in the cellar, pounding, thump, thump, thump.
Little David ran down the steps to see who it was.
He saw a great blazing fire in the wide fireplace, and three big pots hanging on the crane over it; and his mamma, Leah, Jane, and Aunt Jinny, making sausages; and John Bigbee, the colored boy, with a wooden mortar between his knees, and an iron-pestle in his hand, pounding, thump, thump, thump, in the mortar.
Little David ran to John, and asked, "What's in there?" but did not wait for an answer. He drew in his breath as hard as he could, and blew into the mortar with all his might.
A cloud of fine black pepper flew up into his mouth, nose, and eyes. How he did sneeze and strangle and cry!
Leah ran for a basin of cold water. His mamma got a soft linen cloth, and washed away all the pepper and most of the pain.
When he stopped crying, she said, "Little David, don't meddle."
D. D. H.
THE ANVIL CHORUS
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
That is the tune at morning's blink;
And we hammer away till the busy day,
Weary like us, to rest doth sink.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
From useful labor we will not shrink;
But our fires we'll blow till the forges glow
With a lustre that makes our eyelids wink.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
A chain we'll forge with many a link:
We'll pound each form while the iron is warm,
With blows as rapid as one may think.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Our faces may be as black as ink;
But our hearts are as true as man ever knew:
Kindly on all we look and think.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Oxford's Junior Speaker.
PAUL
"Four years is very old: I am almost a man," said wee Paul. "Now I can wear papa's coat and hat, and use his gold-topped cane."
He put on the coat. It took some time.
"If the end was cut off, and the thickening taken out, it would be a nice fit. The hat is too tall for a man of my size; but it keeps all my head dry. I shall save an umbrella."
He would also save his eyes; for they were not needed in the top of the hat, and he could feel his way with his feet. He pitied the horses who wore blinders, and wondered how they could go so fast. He tried to step off boldly, but fell over the cane, and smashed the hat. Jane had to come and hunt for him under the coat.
"Don't cry, child," said Jane, shaking the dust from him. "Come now, and have a ride on the rocking-horse."
"He's too slow for me," cried Paul loudly; "and a man of my age won't be shooken, Jane!"
Paul went out and sat beside Fido, on the basement-steps. He made his mouth into a funny round O, and grew purple in the face, trying to whistle Yankee Doodle.
"Don't go off the bricks, child," said Jane, opening a window.
"I'll take care of myself," said Paul. Then he told Fido that Jane had put it into his head to go off the bricks, and that it would be her fault if he did.
Fido began to bark and jump to coax his young master away. He had such fine times when Jane took them out to walk, that he wanted to go again. Paul knew his mamma had forbidden his leaving the brick walk in front of their home; but he longed to go. He put one foot off the bricks, then the other, and away he ran, Fido barking beside him.
Paul ran across two streets, and reached the Public Garden quite out of breath. He said it was fine fun; but he really was not so happy as he was when sitting on his mother's steps. He walked slowly to the pond. He thought he would catch some fish, and give them to Jane, and perhaps she would not tell his mother.
"Here, Fido, go catch fish!" he cried, pointing to the water.
Fido jumped in, and chased a chip with all his might. Paul scolded him well for not catching a fish. The little boy was cross, because he knew he was doing wrong; and when Fido got the chip at last, and laid it at Paul's feet, the child drove him into the water again.
Fido was a small dog, and grew tired very soon. His paws moved slowly, and he had hard work to keep his tiny nose out of the water. He cried for help.
"Poor dog, he will drown!" said a lady upon the bridge.
Paul had been so cross that he forgot dear little Fido could be in danger. He began to cry aloud, and rushed to the edge of the pond to save his pet.
"Dear Fido, don't die!" sobbed Paul, stretching out his hands; but he lost his balance, and fell into the water.
Paul and Fido might both have been drowned if the people on the bridge had not run to save them. The street and number of Paul's house were printed on Fido's collar: so they carried the two there. Paul's mother cried when she saw the sad plight her little boy was in; and he was quite sick for a few days.
"We'd better mind mother, and let Jane go with us always, if she is an old fuss!" said Paul to Fido, the first time they were alone together. And Fido gave a deep sigh that meant yes.
Helen C. Pearson.