Part 18

With parcels queer, That stick out here, Before, behind, in front and rear.

"Oh, Fred! a dolly! I'll call her Molly." "Why, may, a penknife here; how jolly!"

"A necktie blue! A paintbox too!" "Oh, Fred, a pair of kid gloves new!"

"May, here's a gun! Won't we have fun, Playing at soldiers!--You'll be one."

"Now that is all. No; here's a ball; Just hold it, or these things will fall."

"What's in the toe, May, do you know? Biscuits and figs!--I told you so."

"I think," said May, That Christmas day Should come at least every second day."

And so say we; But then you see That Santa Claus would tired be.

And all his toys And Christmas joys Would vanish then from girls and boys.

From "The Prize"

Hang Up Baby's Stocking

Hang up the baby's stocking: Be sure you don't forget: The dear little dimpled darling Has never seen Christmas yet.

But I told him all about it, And he opened his big blue eyes; I'm sure he understood it, He looked so funny and wise.

Ah, what a tiny stocking; It doesn't take so much to hold Such little toes as baby's Safe from the frost and cold.

But then, for the baby's Christmas It never will do at all; For Santa Claus wouldn't be looking For anything half so small.

I know what will do for baby; I've thought of a first-rate plan; I'll borrow a stocking of grandma-- The longest that I ever can.

And you shall hang it by mine, mother, Right here in the corner--so; And write a letter for baby. And fasten it on the toe.

"Old Santa Claus, this is a stocking Hung up for our baby dear; You never have seen our darling, He has not been with us a year,

"But he is a beautiful baby; And now, before you go, Please cram this stocking with presents, From the top of it down to the toe.

"Put in a baby's rattle, Also a coral ring, A bright new ribbon for his waist; Some beads hung on a string

"And mind a coloured ball please, And a tiny pair of shoes; You'll see from this little stocking, The size you have to choose."

Santa Claus

A health to good old Santa Claus, And to his reindeer bold, Whose hoofs are shod with elder-down, Whose horns are tipped with gold.

Ho comes from utmost fairyland Across the wintry snows; He makes the fir-tree and the spruce To blossom like the rose.

Over the quaint old gables, Over the windy ridge, By turret wall and chimney tall, He guided his fairy sledge;

He steals upon the slumbers Of little rose-lipped girls, And lays his waxen dollies down Beside their golden curls.

He scatters blessings on his way, And sugar-coated plums; He robs the sluggard from his rest With trumpets, guns, and drums.

Small feet, before the dawn of day, Are marching to and fro, Drums beat to arms through all the house, And penny trumpets blow.

A health to brave old Santa Claus, And to his reindeer bold, Whose hoofs are shod with elder-down, Whose horns are tipped with gold.

S. H. Whitman

[Page 81--Play Land]

[Illustration: Father making Shadow-Rabbit for Daughter.]

The Rabbit on the Wall

The children shout with laughter, The uproar louder grows; Even grandma chuckles faintly, And Johnny chirps and crows. There ne'er was gilded painting, Hung up in lordly hall, Gave half the simple pleasure As this rabbit on the wall.

The cottage work is over, The evening meal is done; Hark! thro' the starlight stillness You hear the river run. The little children whisper, Then speak out one and all; "Come, father, make for Johnny, The rabbit on the wall."

He--smilingly assenting, They gather round his chair; "Now, grandma, you hold Johnny; Don't let the candle flare." So speaking, from his fingers He throws a shadow tall, That seems, a moment after, A rabbit on the wall.

Holiday Time

With these three little girls and two little boys There is sure to be plenty of laughter and noise; But nobody minds it, because don't you see, At school they are quiet with lessons to say-- But when the holidays come they can play the whole day.

The Fairy Queen

Let us laugh and let us sing, Dancing in a merry ring; We'll be fairies on the green, Sporting round the Fairy Queen.

Like the seasons of the year, Round we circle in a sphere; I'll be Summer, you'll be Spring, Dancing in a fairy ring.

Harry will be Winter wild; Little Annie, Autumn mild; Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, Dancing in a fairy ring.

Spring and Summer glide away, Autumn comes with tresses grey; Winter, hand in hand with Spring, Dancing in a fairy ring.

Faster! faster! round we go While our cheeks like roses glow; Free as birds upon the wing, Dancing in a fairy ring.

Come and Play in the Garden

Little sister, come away, And let us in the garden play, For it is a pleasant day.

On the grassplot let us sit, Or, if you please, we'll play a bit, And run about all over it.

But the fruit we will not pick, For that would be a naughty trick, And, very likely, make us sick.

Nor will we pluck the pretty flowers That grow about the beds and bowers, Because, you know, they are not ours.

We'll pluck the daisies, white and red, Because mamma has often said, That we may gather them instead.

And much I hope we always may Out very dear mamma obey, And mind whatever she may say.

Little Romp

I am tired to death of keeping still And being good all day. I guess my mamma's company Forgot to go away, I've wished and wished they'd think of it, And that they would get through; But they must talk for ever first, They almost always do.

I heard Tom calling to me once, He's launched his boat, I know; I wanted to get out and help, But mamma's eyes said no. The ladies talk such stuff to me, It makes me sick to hear-- "How beautiful your hair curls!" or, "How red your cheeks are, dear!"

I'd ten times rather run a race, Then play my tunes and things; I wouldn't swop my dogs and balls For forty diamond rings. I've got no 'finement, aunty says, I 'spect she knows the best; I don't need much to climb a tree, Or hunt a squirrel's nest.

"Girls are like berries," papa says, "Sweeter for running wild," But Aunt Melissa shakes her head, And calls me "Horrid child!" I'll always be a romp she knows-- But sure's my name is Sadie, I'll fool 'em all some dreadful day, By growing up a lady.

Hide and Seek

"We will have a game of hide and seek, Now mind you do not look." And Willie went and hid himself In a dark and lonely nook.

Then the children went to find him; They hunted all about. It was a funny way in which At last they found him out.

Just as they got where he was hid, In his nose he felt a tickling That made him sneeze, and so you see They found him in a twinkling.

[Illustration: Child and Dog playing Adventurers.]

[Page 82--Play Land]

[Illustration: Our Tea Party.]

Tired of Play

Tired of play! tired of play! What hast thou done this livelong day? The birds are silent, and so is the bee; The sun is creeping up temple and tree;

The doves have flown to the sheltering eves And the nests are dark with the drooping leaves. Twilight gathers and day is done, How hast thou spent it, restless one?

Playing? But what has thou done beside, To tell thy mother at eventide? What promise of morn is left unbroken? What kind word to thy playmate spoken?

Whom hast thou pitied and whom forgiven, How with thy faults has duty striven, What hast thou learned by field and hill? By greenwood path, and singing rill?

Well for thee if thou couldst tell, A tale like this of a day spent well, If thy kind hand has aided distress, And thou pity hast felt for wretchedness;

If thou hast forgiven a brother's offence, And grieved for thine own with penitence; If every creature has won thy love From the creeping worm to the brooding dove, Then with joy and peace on the bed of rest, Thou wilt sleep as on thy mother's breast.

Sea-side Play

Two little boys, all neat and clean, Came down upon the shore: They did not know old Ocean's ways-- They'd ne'er seen him before.

So quietly they sat them down, To build a fort of sand; Their backs were turned to the sea, Their faces toward the land.

They had just built a famous fort-- The handkerchief flag was spread-- When up there came a stealthy wave, And turned them heels over head.

After School Hours

School is closed and tasks are done, Flowers are laughing in the sun; Like the songsters in the air, Happy children, banish care!

Riding on a Gate

Sing, sing, What shall we sing, A gate is a capital Sort of thing.

If you have not a horse, Or haven't a swing, A gate is a capital Sort of thing.

Cry, cry, Finger in eye, Go home to mother And tell her why;

You've been riding, And why not I? Each in turn, isn't that the rule For work or play, at home or school.

Walking Song

Come, my children, come away, For the sun shines bright to-day; Little children, come with me, Birds, and brooks, and posies see; Get your hats and come away, For it is a pleasant day.

Bring the hoop and bring the ball, Come with happy faces all, Let us make a merry ring, Talk, and laugh, and dance, and sing Quickly, quickly come away, For it is a pleasant day.

The Lost Playmate

The old school-house is still to day, The rooms have no gay throng; No ringing laugh is on the air, There is no snatch of song. The white-haired master sits upon The seat beneath the tree, And thinks upon the vanished face, With all its boyish glee.

But a few short days ago, the lad Was gayest of the gay, Quick at the page of knowledge, and The heartiest in play. The pride of the home beside the stream, With his pigeons in their cots, And finding life a very dream, In pleasant homely spots.

His school companions loving him, And old folks speaking praise, Of the well-loved boy, with frankest eyes, And cheery, happy ways. All in the village knew the boy, From parson down to clerk, And his whistle in the village street Was clear as the song of lark.

But like a dream he's passed away, And from the chamber dim, In the fair light of summer day, The peasants carry him. And playmates gather at the grave, The old schoolmaster there, While blossomed boughs wave over-head, And all around is fair.

True is the grief that brings the tear, There is no empty show; The simple neighbours see their loss, And there is heart-felt woe. They talk of the bright and lively lad, Cut down in boyish prime, And old folks think how strange is life, More strange with passing time!

Oh! simple sight on green hill-side, Away from pomp and power; Here are the truths so oft denied To the imperial hour. Dear child, how precious are the tears, Suffusing friendly eyes! Sublimity is in their gleam, A light from God's own skies.

[Illustration: Naughty Mice Teasing the Poor Kitten.]

[Page 83--Play Land]

[Illustration: Chinese Toy Merchant.]

In the Toy Shop

Cups and saucers, pots and pans, China figures, Chinese fans, Railway trains, with tops and tables, Fairy tales, and Aesop's fables.

Clockwork mice, and colored marbles, Painted bird that sweetly warbles, Dolls of every age and size, With flaxen curls and moving eyes.

Cows and horses, chickens, cats, Rattles, windmills, boats and bats, Ducks and geese, and golden fishes, Skipping ropes, and copper dishes.

Books with coloured pictures, too, And a thousand other things for you; Dainty maidens, merry boys, Here you are, all sorts of toys.

Neat Little Clara

"Little Clara, come away, Little Clara, come and play; Leave your work, Maria's here, So come and play with me, my dear."

"I will come, and very soon, For I always play at noon; But must put my work away, Ere with you I come and play.

First my bodkin I must place With my needles in their case; I like to put them by with care, And then I always find them there.

There's my cotton, there's my thread Thimble in its little bed; All is safe--my box I lock, Now I come--'tis twelve o'clock."

Playing Store

"Ting-a-ling!" Now they Have opened the store, Never was such An assortment before; Mud pies in plenty, And parcels of sand, Pebbles for sugar plums, Always on hand.

Plenty of customers Coming to buy, "Brown sugar, white sugar Which will you try? Paper for money; Their wealth, too, is vast; In spite of the plenty, They scatter it fast.

Quick little hands Tie bundles with care, Summer's glad music Is filling the air; Birdies fly over, And wonder, no doubt, What all these gay little folks are about.

[Illustration: Our Shop.]

Fishing

He took a stick, he took a cord, He took a crooked pin, And went a-fishing in the sand And almost tumbled in. But just before he tumbled in, By chance it came about, He hooked a whiting and a sole, And made them tumble out.

Hide and Seek

When the clean white cloth is laid, And the cups are on the table, When the tea and toast are made, That's a happy time for Mabel.

Stealing to her mother's side, In her ear she whispers low, "When papa comes I'll hide; Don't tell him where I go,"

On her knees upon the floor, In below the sofa creeping; When she hears him at the door, She pretends that she is sleeping.

"Where is Mabel?" father cries, Looking round and round about. Then he murmurs in surprise, "Surely Mabel can't be out."

First he looks behind his chair, Then he peers beneath the table, Seeking, searching everywhere All in vain for little Mabel;

But at last he thinks he knows, And he laughs and shakes his head, Says to mother, "I suppose Mabel has been put to bed."

But when he sits down to tea, From beneath the sofa creeping, Mabel climbs upon his knee, Clasps her hands: "I was not sleeping."

When he asks, "Where is my girl's Very secret hiding-place?" Mabel only shakes her curls, Laughing, smiling, in his face.

[Illustration: Johnny Giving his Sister a Ride.]

[Page 84--Play Land]

[Illustration: Our Playhouse Coach.]

Little Sailors

Now, Harry, pull the chairs up, And, Fanny, get the shawl; We'll play that we are sailors, And that we're in a squall.

The fire will be a lighthouse, To warn us off the shore; And we will place the footstools For rocks, out on the floor.

Now this chair is the stern And that one is the bow; But there, you must be careful, And not lean hard, you know.

Now, sailors, pull that sail up, And tuck the corners in-- Well if you want it tighter, Ask mother for a pin.

Now couldn't we sing something About the "Ocean Blue"? Well, never mind, "By-baby" Or anything will do.

Take care, you careless sailors, And mind what you are about, You know the sea will drown you, If you should tumble out.

Brother Playing

Up and down the play-room, Then behind the door, Now upon the sofa, Now upon the floor.

In below the table, Round the big arm-chair, Goes my little brother, Crying "Are you there?"

And when brother sees me, Then away I run; And he follows after, Merry with the fun.

So at hide and seek we play. And pass the happy hours away.

Girls and Boys, Come Out to Play

Girls and boys, Come out to play, The sun is shining Away, away.

Into the meadow Over the way, Tumbling and tossing The new-mown hay.

Into the hedgerow Picking the May; Over the hills And far away.

Down by the brook Where the ripples play, Whirling and winding Their silvery way,

Then home again By a different way, Picking an armful Of wildflowers gay.

For mother dear To gladden her way, And wake in her heart A cheerful lay.

For every leaf Has it's sunny ray; All nature is happy And seems to say:

Girls and boys, Come out to play. The sun is shining Away, away.

Two Merry Men

Two merry men, One summer day, Forsook their toys, And forgot their play.

Two little faces, Full of fun, Two little hearts That beat as one.

Four little hands, At work with a will, Four little legs That can't keep still.

For labour is sweet, And toil is fun, When mother wants Any work to be done.

Mud Pies

Tell me little ladies, Playing in the sun, How many minutes Till the baking's done?

Susy gets the flour, All of golden dust; Harry builds the oven, Lily rolls the crust.

Pat it here, and pat it there; What a dainty size! Bake it on a shelf of stone, Nice mud pies!

Now we want a shower-- For we need it so-- It would make a roadside, Such a heap of dough.

Turn them in, and turn them out, How the morning flies! Ring the bell for dinner-- Hot mud pies!

The Playful Girl

I know a little girl, Who is very fond of play: And if her ma would let her, Would do nothing else all day.

She has a little doll, And another one quite large. She plays she has a little home, And house cares to discharge.

But when her mamma calls her, Some real work to do, She does not like to leave her play, And pouts till she is through.

Hay Making

In the hay, in the hay, Toss we and tumble; No one to say us nay, All through this Summer's day! No one to grumble.

In the hat, in the hay, Arthur we'll smother; Bring armfuls, heap them high, Pile them up--now good-bye, Poor little brother!

In the hay, in the hay, Snugly reclining, Shaded from the noontide heat, Smelling the clover sweet, See us all dining;

While the haymakers sit Under the willows, Each with his bread and cheese Spread out upon his knees, Hay for their pillows.

Hark! how the laugh and chat, Happy, light hearted! Now to their work they go, Raking up one long row, Fit to be carted.

Now comes the wagon near, Quickly they're loading; Rake away! rake away! While it's fine make the hay-- Rain is foreboding.

Now that the sunset ray Says the day's over, Homeward we make our way, In the cart strewn with hay, Smelling of clover.

Mrs. Hawtrey

[Illustration: American Indian Boys at Play.]

[Page 85--Play Land]

[Illustration: Thomas Mending his Bat.]

[Illustration: My Dog and I Dancing.]

Johnny the Stout

"Ho! for a frolic!" Said Johnny the stout; "There's coasting and sledding; I'm going out."

Scarcely had Johnny Plunged in the snow, When there came a complaint Up from his toe:

"We're cold" said the toe, "I and the rest; There's ten of us freezing, Standing abreast."

Then up spoke an ear; "My, but it's labor-- Playing in winter. Eh! Opposite neighbour!"

"Pooh!" said his nose, Angry and red; "Who wants to tingle? Go home to bed!"

Eight little fingers, Four to a thumb, All cried together-- "Johnny, we're numb!"

But Johnny the stout Wouldn't listen a minute; Never a snow-bank But Johnny was in it.

Tumbling and jumping, Shouting with glee, Wading the snow-drifts Up to his knee.

Soon he forgot them, Fingers and toes, Never once thought of The ear and the nose.

Ah! What a frolic! All in a glow, Johnny grew warmer Out in the snow.

Often his breathing Came with a joke; "Blaze away, Johnny! I'll do the smoke."

"And I'll do the fire," Said Johnny the bold. "Fun is the fuel For driving off cold."

[Illustration: Going to dig Sand.]

[Illustration: Sorry He Played.]

[Page 86--Play Land]

[Illustration: Our Lamb Playing Tennis.]

[Illustration: Our Puss Blowing Bubbles.]

Training Time

Supper is over, Now for fun, This is the season Children must run;

Papa is reading; Says, of these boys; "Pray did you ever Hear such a noise?"

Riding on "camels" Over the floor, See, one's a squirrel Climbing the door;

There goes the baby Flat on his nose, Brother was trying To tickle his toes.

Little he minds it, Though he would cry, Changed it to laughter As Lyn galloped by;

Order is nowhere, Fun is the rule; Think, they are children Just out of school.

Home is their palace; They are the kings Let them be masters, Of just a few things;

Only one short hour Out of all day, Give them full freedom; Join in their play.

Do not be angry Do not forget You liked to make noise Sometimes do yet;

Home will be sweeter Till life is done If you will give them An hour of fun.

[Illustration: Our Puss Playing Cricket.]

[Illustration: Our Frogs Playing Cricket.]

[Page 87--Play Land]

Playtime

Play-time, play-time, hurrah! Out in the fields together! Don't let us lose a moment's time, This fine, bright, glorious weather.

Run, boys! Run, boys! faster! Ball and the bats for cricket; Jack, you're the fastest runner here, Be off, and pitch the wicket.

Football for those who choose-- The goal stick--go, Jim, fix it; Give us the ball; who's won the toss? Now, for the first who kicks it.

No lazy ones today; Off, stretch your legs running! Now for the hip, hip, hip, hurrah! And let the noise be stunning.

Hear how it echoes round! Another and another! No fear of noise, it won't disturb Old granny and poor mother.

Hullo there! no foul play! Dick, what is that you're saying? No bad words and no cruel sport; We're come for fun and playing.

Romping

Why now, my dear boys, this is always the way, You can't be contented with innocent play; But this sort of romping, so noisy and high, Is never left off till it ends in a cry.

What! are there no games you can take a delight in, But kicking and knocking, and tearing, and fighting? It is a sad thing to be forced to conclude That boys can't be merry, without being rude.

Now what is the reason you never can play Without snatching each other's playthings away? Would it be any hardship to let them alone, When every one of you has toys of his own?

I often have told you before, my dear boys, That I do not object to your making a noise; Or running and jumping about, anyhow, But fighting and mischief I cannot allow.

So, if any more of these quarrels are heard, I tell you this once, and I'll keep to my word, I'll take every marble, and spintop and ball, And not let you play with each other at all.

Nurse's Song

When the voices of children are heard on the green, And laughing is heard on the hill, My heart is at rest within my breast, And everything else is still.

"Then come home my children, the sun is gone down And the dews of the night arise; Come, come, leave off play, and let us away, Till the morning appears in the skies."

"No, no, let us play, for it is yet day, And we cannot go to sleep; Besides in the sky the little birds fly, And the hills are covered with sheep."