By Anonymous

Fully Illustrated

Boston: D. Lothrop And Company 1885

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CONTENTS:

SOME-THING SWEET.

LIT-TLE ROS-A-BEL'S AD-VEN-TURE.

MORN-ING AT OUR HOUSE.

MOON FOLKS.

LIT-TLE CRUMBS, AND LIT-TLE DROPS.

IN THE DOVE COT—TWO KIND LIT-TLE GIRLS.

I-DA'S DOLL.

THE FAM-I-LY ROGUE IS CAUGHT AT LAST.

HOW DAN-NY SAID HE WAS SOR-RY.

MISS ROSE-BUD,

WHAT PA-PA AND MAM-MA SAW.

A FIN-GER SONG.—LIT-TLE KATE.

KATE FEEDS THE FISH-ES.

MEAS-UR-ING TOM-MY.

A LIT-TLE MAS-TER.

MA-DAME MOB-CAP.

UN-DER THE EAVES.

BO-PEEP'S STOCK-ING.

A GRAVE CONSULTATION,—"I SHALL LEAVE THEM OUT OF MY CHERRY PARTY."

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Yes, the rob-in's nest had

been robbed—their own

rob-in's nest un-der the bush,

with its dar-ling lit-tle eggs of

the true robin's blue! The

nest was pulled out and tip-

ped on the ground, and the

love-ly eggs were gone.

"I know well e-nough," said

Beth, "that those were the

ver-y eggs that your broth-er

Jim-my was a-car-ry-ing a-bout

strung on a straw, Sat-ur-day

af-ter-noon."

"Yes," said Bes-sie, sad-ly,

"he and Dick must have found

our bush and looked un-der

it, and pulled out the nest. If

they weren't my broth-ers, I'd

nev-er speak to them in this

world any more, no, nev-er and

nev-er! I'm sor-ry they had

to come in-to the coun-try with

us, they do so much dam-age!"

"O, you'll have to speak to

them," said Beth; "but when

peo-ple do cru-el things I do

think it ought not to go as if

they had done on-ly right! I

think they ought to be left out

a while, an' I shall leave them

out of my cher-ry par-ty."

Jim-my and Dick were Bes-

sie's broth-ers; but she a-greed,

and the boys got no cards for

the cher-ry par-ty.

"It is be-cause you broke up

the rob-in's nest," said Bes-sie

se-vere-ly. "It is to make you

feel that girls don't like cru-el-

ty to birds!"

AND JIM-MY'S AN-SWER.

Jim-my looked so-ber for a

min-ute. Then he kicked up

his heels on the car-pet. "Ho,

ho!" said he. "Such girls a-

set-ting up to pun-ish us!

Girls that wear whole birds on

their hats all win-ter!"

SOME-THING SWEET.

Christ-mas Day some-thing

sweet hap-pened to Ba-by

Ralph—some su-gar can-dy.

Ralph had nev-er tast-ed

can-dy be-fore, and you should

have seen his big blue eyes.

"Some mo' an' some mo'

an' some mo'!" he said.

"Some more next Christ-

mas," said mam-ma. And

now ev-er-y morn-ing Ralph

asks, "Kwis'-mas this day?"

Oh, list-en while the chil-dren sing

(The first one's name is

Mol-ly),

So loud their mer-ry voi-ces ring—

(Th e sec-ond one is Dol-ly),

They sound like black-birds in

the spring

(The third is Oua-ker Pol-ly).

A CHRIST-MAS CAROL, LIT-TLE ROS-A-BEL'S AD-VEN-TURE.

Lit-tle Ros-a-bel liked sto-ries

the best of any-thing in the

world; and she be-lieved that

all her lit-tle pict-ure books

were true, and O, how she did

wish she were a stor-y-book

girl her-self, and that such

things would hap-pen to her.

Dear lit-tle Ros-a-bel, she used

to go out in the green lanes

and grass-y dells and hunt for

fair-ies, and list-en for talk-ing

birds and talk-ing flow-ers.

And one day lit-tle Ros-a-

bel thought she would try one

of the sto-ries and see if it

would come true with her.

She chose the sto-ry of "Lit-tle

Red Rid-ing-hood," be-cause

she had a red hood and be-

cause she knew a poor old

wom-an who lived a-lone in an

old house. So she put a pat

of but-ter and a cust-ard-pie in

a lit-tle bask-et, tied on her red

hood, and started a-way. But

there were no woods to go

through, and so no wolf came

a-long. Ros-a-bel called "Wolf!

Wolf!" man-y times, but no

wolf came. When she came

to the old house she tried to

reach the big knock-er. But

she couldn't, so she knocked

with her lit-tle knuck-les. A

ver-y thin, low voice said, "Lift

the latch and come right in!"

Ros-a-bel did, and there was a

poor old grand-moth-er right in

bed, just like the stor-y!

"O, have you any-thing to eat

in that bask-et?" said the voice.

"I have sprained my an-kle

and I can't walk, and there has

no-bod-y been here for two

days, and I am al-most starved,

and I want some-bod-y to go

for a doc-tor. Can you go?"

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Yes, Ros-a-bel could. A-way

she ran to mam-ma, and mam-

ma and the doc-tor both came,

So Ros-a-bel was not on-ly in a

real sto-ry, her-self, but she al-so

did a great deal of good.

MORN-ING AT OUR HOUSE.

When the first gray light

creeps in through the cur-tains

there is gen-er-al-ly a sud-den

nest-ling to be heard in the crib

that stands at one side of the

bed. Soon Ar-thur's curl-y

yel-low head pops up out of

the pil-lows.

"Are you waked up, Dol-ly-

ba-by?" calls a mer-ry voice.

"Coo-ah-goo-coo" an-swers

Dol-ly-ba-by.

"Mam-ma, I want to see

her," says Ar-thur, sit-ting up

to look o-ver.

Then mam-ma parts the lace.

cur-tains of Dol-ly-ba-by's crib,

and dis-clos-es the lit-tle sis-ter,

all sweet and ro-sy with sleep,

smil-ing on her pil-low.

"Loves Dol-ly-ba-by," says

Ar-thur, throw-ing a kiss.

Dol-ly makes fun-ny eyes at

her broth-er, and throws up

her fat lit-tle hands. "Ah-

goo-goo!" she says.

"Let me have her, please,

mam-ma," says Ar-thur.

Then Dol-ly-ba-by is lift-ed

o-ver in-to the big crib; and

there is rock-ing and sing-ing

and smil-ing and coo-ing un-til

nurse comes to car-ry both

rogues a-way to be dressed.

MOON FOLKS.

See how quiet it is at e-ven-

ing in the house of the Man in

the Moon. The Moon moth-

er sits down to knit baby

stock-ings like the mam-mas

here; and the Moon fa-ther

wears a smok-ing cap as oth-er

pa-pas do—and on-ly just see

what the sweet lit-tle Moon

ba-by has got for a ham-

mock!

"By-lo-by!" the Moon ba-by

sings. "How bright the earth

shines to-night! I like to

swing in the ham-mock by

earth-light!"

"I won-der if an-y-bod-y

lives in the earth," says the

Moon moth-er.

"That is some-thing I sup-

pose we nev-er shall know,"

says the Moon fa-ther.

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LIT-TLE CRUMBS, AND LIT-TLE DROPS.

"Crumbs of Crack-ers" and

"Drops of Milk" were, the

names of two lit-tle girls.

Would you like to know how

they got these fun-ny names?

It was this way: Lit-tle

"Crumbs" was al-ways nib-

bling crack-ers, and lit-tle

"Drops" lived up-on noth-

ing but milk.

They met for the first

time one day by the fence

be-tween their gar-dens. Lit-

tle Drops was sip-ping from

her sil-ver cup and lit-tle

Crumbs was munch-ing her

crack-er. The big sun-flower

thought there must be a dog

and a kit-ty in the gar-den.

"I've seen you out here

twice," said Crumbs bold-ly,

"and both times you was a-

drink-ing milk."

"An' I's seen you two times,

and bofe times you was a-eat-

ing cwack-ers!" said Drops.

Then the lit-tle girls looked

at each oth-er through the

fence. Bold lit-tle Crumbs

spoke first: "I don't like milk."

"I does," said Drops.

"My mam-ma says I was

brought up on one cow."

"Was you once a tru-ly

lit-tle bos-sy calf?" asked

Crumbs.

But Drops did not like that

ques-tion. "You isn't ber-ry

nice to me," she said.

Then Crumbs was sor-ry.

She held out her crack-er.

"Here!" she said. And

while Drops nib-bled, Crumbs,

to show that she was tru-ly

sor-ry, took a sip from the cup.

And this was tru-ly sor-row

in-deed, for Crumbs don't like

milk to this day.

IN THE DOVE COT—TWO KIND LIT-TLE GIRLS.

Whith-er a-way,

Lit-tle la-dies so gay?

"O, o-ver the hill

To Grand-moth-er Dill!"

And what have you there

In your bas-ket square?

"O, pud-dings and pies,

A lit-tle sur-prise!"

Why such good-will

To Grand-moth-er Dill?

"O, ev-er-y one should

On Christ-mas do good!"

Lit-tle maids, good day!

Flow-ers strew your way!

"Coo, coo,"

said Pur-ple-

neck, "it is

break- fast

time."

"Y es," said

G r a y-wing,

"I was think-

ing of the cit-y doves. There

was a snow-storm last night."

"Yes," said Pur-ple-neck,

"but they will not suf-fer. I

am told that many a fine gen-

tle-man buys a loaf of bread

to crum-ble up for the cit-y

doves on a win-ter's day."

"H ea-ven bless 'em," said

Gray-wing.

I-DA'S DOLL.

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Once there was a lit-tle

girl named I-da, who nev-er

had had a dol-ly. She nev-er

had e-ven seen one, but there

was a pic-ture in a lit-tle red

sto-ry-book

of a girl

hold-ing a

doll, and

I-da used to

look at this pic-ture ev-er-y day

and wish and wish she could

have one.

But her home

was a long

way from

an-y store, and

be-side, her

fath-er and

moth-er had

no mon-ey to

spend for

play-things.

Poor lit-tle

I-da felt worse

and worse

a-bout it, and

one night she

cried af-ter she went to bed, and

when her moth-er came and

asked what was the mat-ter she

said:

"I'm so mizh-a-ble for a

dol-ly, mam-ma!"

Mam-ma sat up long af-ter

her lit-tle girl was a-sleep and

thought a-bout it; and the next

morn-ing, when I-da woke,

there sat a dol-ly on the bu-

reau star-ing at her, a queer,

queer thing, but I-da knew

it was sure-ly a doll.

It was a great rag ba-by,

made of an old sheet, and

dressed in one of I-da's pink

cal-i-co a-prons, and it had black

thread hair, and blue but-ton

eyes, a rag nose, and red ink

lips—but oh! how de-li-cious

it was to hold, and hug, and

love! All the sweet names

I-da could think of were giv-en

her: "Pret-ty," and "Dar-

ling," and "Fair-y," and "Sun-

shine." And lit-tle I-da was

not "mizh-a-ble" an-y more.

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THE FAM-I-LY ROGUE IS CAUGHT AT LAST.

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HOW DAN-NY SAID HE WAS SOR-RY.

Dan-ny was a hand-some lit-

tle boy, but not al-ways a

good lit-tle boy. Some-times

he was so naught-y that you

could see sparks of fire in

his soft black eyes, and he

would dou-ble his chub-by lit-

tle hands up in-to fists, and

stamp his feet, and look ex-

actly as though he were go-

ing to strike some-bod-y.

One day when mam-ma

was sick with head-ache he

had one of these bad times

with his tem-per.

"I don't wish to walk with

El-len," he cried, "an' I won't!

I want a play-walk with you,

mam-ma! El-len don't talk

with me, an' she won't let

me drive her at all! I want

a play-walk with my mam-ma,

I say! Do you hear, mam-ma!

Mam-ma heard. She felt

as though the naught-y lit-tle

boots had come down with

a stamp right on her head.

She knew ver-y well it was

nicer for a lit-tle boy to walk

with a mam-ma who would

a-muse him and take part in

his lit-tle plays, than with a

nurse, but she could not go,

and when Dan-ny stamped

and roared, he had to be sent

out of the room quick-ly, and

with-out e-ven a kiss.

It was a much-a-shamed

lit-tle boy that went stub-bing

a-long in the dust right in

the mid-dle of the road a

half-hour aft-er. His lit-tle

heart was strug-gling to find

some way to say how sor-ry

he was. There were no flow-

ers to pick for a nose-gay, and

it was too late for e-ven a

stray black-ber-ry.

But just be-fore din-ner

mam-ma woke, and there was

a great cloud of col-or, red

and gold, right be-fore her,

and shin-ing o-ver it, a pair

of silk-en-fringed black eyes,

so soft and lov-ing and sor-ry

that mam-ma gath-ered her

lit-tle boy, and the great arm-

ful of au-tumn leaves right

in-to her arms, and in one

lit-tle min-ute all the naugh-

ti-ness was loved a-way.

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