Part 20
Behind a pile Of hoes and rakes And pieces of boards And broken stakes. "Ah! ha! old hen, I have found you now, But to reach your nest I don't know how, Unless I could creep Or climb or crawl Along the edge Of the pig-pen wall."
And while I stood In a thoughtful meed, The speckled hen cackled As loud as she could, And flew away, As much as to say, "For once my treasure Is out of your way." I did not wait A moment then: I couldn't be conquered By that old hen!
But along the edge Of the slippery ledge I carefully crept, For the great pigs slept, And I dared not even look to see If they were thinking Of eating me But all at once, Oh, what a dunce!
I dropped my basket Into the pen, The one you gave me, Brother Ben; There were two eggs in it, By the way, That I found in the manger Under the hay. Then the pigs got up And ran about With a noise between A grunt and a shout.
And when I saw them, Rooting, rooting, Of course I slipped And lost my footing, And tripped, And jumped, And finally fell Right down among The pigs pell-mell. For once in my life I was afraid; For the door that led Out to the shed
Was fastened tight With and iron hook, And father was down In the fields by the brook, Hoeing and weeding His rows of corn, And here was his Polly So scared and forlorn, But I called him, and called him, As loud as I could. I knew he would hear me-- He must and he should.
"O father! O father! (Get out, you old pig). O father! oh! oh!" For their mouths are so big. Then I waited a minute And called him again, "O father! O father! I am in the pig pen!" And father did hear, And he threw down his hoe, And scampered as fast As a father could go.
The pigs had pushed me Close to the wall, And munched my basket, Eggs and all, And chewed my sun-bonnet Into a ball. And one had rubbed His muddy nose All over my apron, Clean and white;
And they sniffed at me, And stepped on my toes, But hadn't taken The smallest bite, When father opened The door at last, And oh! in his arms He held me fast.
E. W. Denison
Writing
Little pens of metal, Little drops of ink, Make the wicked tremble, And the people think.
Value of Writing
Blest be that gracious power Who taught mankind To stamp a lasting image On the mind:
Beasts may convey, And tuneful birds may sing Their mutual feelings In the opening spring;
But man alone has skill And power to send The heart's warm dictates To the distant friend:
Tis his also to please, Instruct, advise, Ages remote, And nations yet to rise.
Crabbe
Use the Pen
Use the pen! there's magic in it, Never let it lag behind; Write thy thought, the pen can win it From the chaos of the mind.
Many a gem is lost forever By the careless passer-by, But the gems of thought should never On the mental pathway lie.
Use the pen! reck not that others Take a higher flight than thine. Many an ocean cave still smothers Pearls of price beneath the brine.
So thy words and thoughts securing Honest praise from wisdom's tongue, May, in time, be as enduring As the strains which Homer sung.
J. E. Carpenter
Power of the Pen
Beneath the rule of men entirely great, The pen is mightier than the sword.
Lord Lytton
Letters
Such a little thing--a letter, Yet so much it may contain: Written thoughts and mute expressions Full of pleasure, fraught with pain.
When our hearts are sad at parting, Comes a gleam of comfort bright, In the mutual promise given: "We will not forget to write."
Plans and doings of the absent; Scraps of news we like to hear, All remind us, e'en though distant, Kind remembrance keeps us near.
Yet sometimes a single letter Turns the sunshine into shade; Chills our efforts, clouds our prospects, Blights our hopes and makes them fade.
Messengers of joy or sorrow, Life or death, success, despair, Bearers of affection's wishes, Greetings kind or loving prayer.
Prayer or greeting, were we present, Would be felt, but half unsaid; We can write--because our letters-- Not our faces--will be read?
Who has not some treasured letters, Fragments choice of other's lives; Relics, some, of friends departed, Friends whose memory still survives?
Touched by neither time nor distance, Will their words unspoken last? Voiceless whispers of the present, Silent echoes of the past!
The Right Method of Composition
Never be in haste in writing: Let that thou utterest be of nature's flow, Not art's, a fountain's, not a pump's. But once Begun, work thou all things into thy work: And set thyself about it, as the sea About the earth, lashing it day and night: And leave the stamp of thine own soul in it As thorough as the fossil flower in clay: The theme shall start and struggle in thy breast, Like to a spirit in its tomb at rising, Rending the stones, and crying--Resurrection.
P. J. Bailey
[Illustration: Cat and Dog Sending Letters.]
[Page 95--Drawing Land]
[Illustration: Our Lady Artist.]
[Illustration: Our Gentleman Artist.]
[Illustration: The Sunday Fisherman--A story with Symbols.]
[Illustration: Drawing Pussy's Likeness.]
[Illustration: Working for a Prize.]
[Page 96--Drawing Land]
Just cast your beautiful, your sparkling, your penetrating, your discriminating
[Illustration: Eyes.]
Over this page, and read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest its Contents.
[Illustration: A Room Hung With Pictures Is A Room Hung With Thoughts.]
THE two greatest educating powers in the ancient world were Pictures and Poetry--the two greatest educating powers are pictures and poetry still, and pictures and poetry blended in an interesting manner is the intended educating feature of this PLEASANT-LEARNING-LAND, but my object in this place is to speak of pictures only, as perhaps the greatest of all educating powers, and to demonstrate that they are not sufficiently used for educational purposes. Firstly: pictures are in a universal language--when they are true to nature every person on the earth can understand them. Show a picture of a person or a bird, a horse or a house, a ship, a tree, or a landscape, and everyone knows what is meant, and this is why most of the peoples of the ancient world conveyed their ideas in picture language. FLETCHER, in his _Cyclopedia of Education_, says:-- "It has long been accepted as an axiom that the best explanation of a thing is the sight and study of the thing itself, and the next best a true picture of the thing." DRYDEN, speaking of poetry and painting says:--
"The poets are confined to narrow space, To speak the language of their native place; The painter widely stretches his command, _His pencil speaks the tongue of every land_."
Many writers, ancient and modern, have taught the great educational power of pictures. HORACE says:--A picture is a poem without words". SYDNEY SMITH says:--"Every good picture is the best of sermons and lectures." O. S. FOWLER says:--"A single picture often conveys more than volumes." W. M. HUNT says:--"From any picture we can learn something." HENRY WARD BEECHER says:--"A picture that teaches any affection or moral sentiment will speak in the language which men understand, without any other education than that of being born and of living." GARRICK, speaking of Hogarth, says:--
"His pictured morals mend the mind, And through the eye improve the heart."
But pictures are not only a means of education, for they bring pleasure, comfort, and education combined. STEELE says:--"Beautiful pictures are the entertainment of pure minds." G. P. PUTMAN says:-- "How many an eye and heart have been fascinated by an enchanting picture." CICERO says:--"The eyes are charmed by pictures, and the ears by music." JOHN GILBERT says:--"Pictures are consolers of loneliness; they are a sweet flattery to the soul, they are a relief to the jaded mind; they are windows to the imprisoned thought; they are books, they are histories and sermons, which we can read without the trouble of turning over the leaves." UGO FOSCOLIO says:-- "Pictures are the chickweed to the gilded cage, and make up for the want of many other enjoyments to those whose life is mostly passed amid the smoke and din, the bustle and noise of an overcrowded city." PANDOLFINI says:--Many an eye has been surprised into moisture by pictured woe and heroism; and we are mistaken if the glow of pleasure has not lighted in some hearts the flame of high resolve, or warmed into life the seeds of honorable ambition."
Many pictures, particularly portraits, by bringing up reminiscences, are a great source of consolation. In millions of houses the most-loved and treasured possession is the photographic album containing the likenesses of dear absent or departed friends. SHEE, writing of the soothing influences of the portrait, says:--
"Mirror divine! which gives the soul to view, Reflects the image, and retains it too! Recalls to friendship's eye the fading face, Revives each look, and rivals every grace: In thee the banished lover finds relief, His bliss in absence, and his balm in grief: Affection, grateful, owns thy sacred power, The father feels thee in affliction's hour; When catching life ere some lov'd cherub flies. To take its angel station in the skies, The portrait soothes the loss it can't repair, And sheds a comfort, even in despair." Or-- "The widow'd husband sees his sainted wife In pictures warm, and smiling as in life,-- And-- While he gazes with convulsive thrill, And weeps, and wonders at the semblance still, _He breathes a blessing on the pencil's aid,_ _That half restores the substance in the shade_."
But it is more particularly with pictures as a direct means of education that I have to speak. MR. STEAD holds that in the coming education of the world the magic lantern will play a very great part, for through its aid you can portray any object you wish--pictures of scenery, of buildings, of distant countries, of the microscopic world, and in fact any kind of pictures you choose, in a most beautiful, life-like, interesting, and educational manner. I think and earnestly hope that MR. STEAD'S prediction will be fulfilled.
There are two other ways which I think that pictures should be used for educational purposes. Firstly, in books, as in this one, and secondly, on the walls of buildings--outside and inside if you like --but I will speak only of the inside in this paper. Why should not every room of every house be covered with pictures where it is not covered with furniture? In millions of rooms there is a great waste of opportunity. Many times I have thought why do they not have varying patterns of different scenery, etc, in the different rooms of the houses instead of the wall paper, with its uninteresting pattern perpetually repeated. There is no reason why a house of twelve rooms should not represent on its walls twelve different countries, or twelve histories of striking events, etc. Possibly this may take place later on. With respect to hanging pictures everywhere on the walls, it may be objected that it would be too expensive--so it would if they were costly pictures--but really good pictures are produced by the million now so cheaply, that the objection of expense vanishes. The walls can be covered now almost as cheaply with intellectual pictures as with unintellectual wall paper. SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS says:--"A room hung with pictures, is a room hung with thoughts." JOHN GILBERT says:--"A room with pictures in it, and a room without pictures, differ by nearly as much as a room with windows and a room without windows; for pictures are loopholes of escape to the soul, leading it to other scenes and to other spheres, as it were, through the frame of an exquisite picture, where the fancy for a moment may revel, refreshed and delighted."
I was convinced many years ago of the almost criminal waste of wall space, and issued the following doggerel lines, partly from trade and
## partly from sentimental motives:--
Every cottage, Two-roomed cottage, Should contain full Twenty PICTURES.
Every cottage, Four-roomed cottage, Should contain full Forty PICTURES.
Every cottage, Six-roomed cottage, Should contain full Sixty PICTURES.
Every villa, Eight-roomed villa, Should contain full Eighty PICTURES.
Every mansion, Ten-roomed mansion, Should contain a Hundred PICTURES.
Every large school For instruction Should contain a THOUSAND PICTURES.
Walls are made to Keep out weather And also to Display PICTURES.
Count your PICTURES All your walls on. See if you have Quite the number, You will want more You will wish more, You will get more Shouldn't wonder.
PICTURES they are Made to please you-- First to please you When you buy them; Next to please your Own dear children, Pictures please and Teach them too. Next to please your Friends and neighbours When they kindly Call on you.
They'll admire them, Then they'll praise them. Then that pleases You again. PICTURES please and Teach for ever, All the Children, Women, Men.
Even in the poorest houses pictures must always be a blessing. Many a poor man's cheerless home would be made much more comfortable and endurable if a few shilling's worth of good pictures were posted or hung round its bare walls. If houses were universally decorated with true speaking pictures what an immense influence for good it would bring them. What intellectual and refined tastes it would create and nurture. One most important thing in selecting pictures to cover the walls it to always choose good subjects. A poor picture takes up as much room as a good one, and generally costs as much. Always choose live speaking pictures that will interest and instruct. There is an immense multitude of poor, tame, an uninteresting pictures produced in the world, and which in millions of instances keep out the good ones. If these poor ones could be kept back or destroyed, and the best ones only take their place, the world would be better for it. In choosing materials to build up a bright, happy home, always select the best--the best books--the best music--the best pictures. In conclusion, there is one more suggestion I would make on the picture question, and I think it is the most important of all; it is that a good clear map of the world should be hung in every house in the world, to give every person an idea of the world they live in. For it is a most deplorable fact that ninety-nine out of every hundred of the inhabitants, even of the civilized world, have a very poor conception of the geography and ethnology of the world. And this should not be, for every person ought to have a clear idea of their world-fatherland, and of their fellow creatures, and a knowledge of the map of the world is the first lesson to be learned in that most desirable direction.
E W COLE, Book Arcade, Melbourne.
[Illustration: A Single Picture Often Conveys More Than Volumes.]
[Page 97--Drawing Land]
[Illustration: Drawing Doggy's Likeness.]
The New Slate
See my slate. I dot it new Cos I b'oke the other, Put my 'ittle foot right froo, Runnin' after modder.
I tan make you lots of sings, Fass as you tan tell 'em, T's and B's and O rings, Only I tan't spell 'em
I tan make an elephant, Wid his trunk a hangin'; An' a boy--who says I tan't? Wid his dun a bangin'
An' the smoke a tummin' out; (Wid my t'umb I do it, Rubbin' all the white about,) Sparks a flying froo it.
I tan make a pretty house, Wid a tree behind it, And a 'ittle mousey-mouse Runnin' round to find it.
I tan put my hand out flat On the slate and draw it; (Ticklin' is the worst of that!) Did you ever saw it?
Now, then, s'all I make a tree Wid a birdie on it? All my pictures you s'all see If you'll wait a minute.
No, I dess I'll make a man Juss like Uncle Rolly, See it tummin', fass it tan! Bet my slate is jolly!
[Illustration: Do Not Stare.]
[Illustration: Doggy Drawing Pussy's Likeness.]
[Illustration: Our Baby Artist.]
[Page 98--Drawing Land]
[Illustration: Doggies Sitting to have Their Portraits Taken.]
Learning to Draw
Come, here is a slate, And a pencil, and string. And now sit you down, dear, And draw pretty thing; A man and a cow, And a horse and a tree, And when you have finished Pray show them to me.
What! cannot you do it? Shall I show you how? Come, give me your pencil; I'll draw you a cow. You've made the poor creature Look very forlorn! She has but three legs, dear, And only one horn.
Now look, I have drawn you A beautiful cow; And see, here's a dicky-bird, Perched on a bough, And there are some more Flying down from above; There now, is not that Very pretty, my love?
Oh, yes, very pretty! Now make me some more-- A house with a gate, And a window, and a door, And a little boy flying His kite with a string; Oh, thank you, mamma, Now I'll draw pretty thing.
[Illustration: Young Artist Touching Up.]
[Illustration: A Fairy in Great Danger.]
[Illustration: Our Picture Gallery.]
[Page 99--Drawing Land]
[Illustration: A Lesson in Drawing.]
A Lesson in Drawing
I.
Take a pencil, black or red. Draw a little loaf of bread On a piece of paper white-- Make the bread extremely light.
II.
Then, before your work you stop, Draw a little loop on top, And a satchel will be found Such as ladies carry round.
III.
Then you may, my pretty dears, Add a pair of little ears; And, if Art is not in fault, There's a bag of extra salt.
IV.
Pause, and in rapture fine, Contemplate the great design-- Add a flowing tail, and that Makes a perfect pussy cat.
[Illustration: Wounded.]
[Illustration: Drawing Lesson on the Slate--Birds.]
[Illustration: Drawing Lesson on the slate--Rooster and Household items.]
[Illustration: Drawing Lesson on the Slate--People.]
[Page 100--Old Men Tales]
Old Man and His Wife
There was an old man who lived in a wood, As you may plainly see, He said he could do as much work in a day As his wife could do in three.
"With all my heart," the old woman said, "If that you will allow; To-morrow you'll stay at home in my stead, And I'll go drive the plough.
"But you must milk the Tidy cow, For fear she may go dry. And you must feed the little pigs That are within the sty;
"And you must mind the speckled hen, For fear she lay away; And you must reel the spool of yarn That I spun yesterday."
The old woman took a whip in her hand, And went to drive the plough; The old man took a pail in his hand, And went to milk the cow.
But Tidy hinched and Tidy flinched, And Tidy broke his nose, And Tidy gave him such a blow That the blood ran down to his toes.
"Hi! Tidy! Ho! Tidy! Hi! Tidy! do stand still! If ever I milk you, Tidy, again, 'Twill be sore against my will."
He went to feed the little pigs, That were within the sty; He hit his head against the beam And he made the blood to fly.
He went to mind the speckled hen, For fear she'd lay away; And he forgot the spool of yarn His wife spun yesterday.
So he swore by the sun, the moon, the stars, And the green leaves on the tree, If his wife didn't do a day's work in her life, She should never be ruled by he.
John Ball Shot Them All
John Ball shot them all. John Scott made the shot, But John Ball shot them all.
John Wyming made the priming, And John Brammer made the rammer, And John Scott made the shot, But John Ball shot them all.
John Block made the stock, And John Wyming made the priming, And John Brammer made the rammer, And John Scott made the shot, But John Ball shot them all.
John Crowder made the powder, And John Block made the stock, And John Wyming made the priming, And John Brammer made the rammer, And John Scott made the shot, But John Ball shot them all.
John Puzzle made the muzzle, And John Crowder made the powder, And John Block made the stock, And John Wyming made the priming, And John Brammer made the rammer, And John Scott made the shot, But John Ball shot them all.
John Clint made the flint, And John Puzzle made the muzzle, And John Crowder made the powder, And John Block made the stock, And John Wyming made the priming, And John Brammer made the rammer, And John Scott made the shot, But John Ball shot them all.
John Patch made the match, John Clint made the flint, John Puzzle made the muzzle, John Crowder made the powder, John Block made the stock, John Wyming made the priming, John Brammer made the rammer, John Scott made the shot, But John Ball shot them all.
The Funny Old Man
There was an old man, and though 'tis not common, Yet if he said true, his mother was a woman; And though it's incredible, yet I've been told He was a mere infant, but age made him old. Whene'er he was hungry he wanted some meat, And if he could get it, 'twas said he could eat; When thirsty he'd drink, if you gave him a pot, And his liquor most commonly ran down his throat. He seldom or never could see without light, And yet I've been told he could hear in the night. He has oft been awake in the daytime 'tis said, And has fall'n fast asleep as he lay in his bed. 'Tis reported his tongue always moved when he talked, And he stirred both his arms and his legs when he walk'd, And his gait was so odd, had you seen him you'd burst, For one leg or t'other would always be first. His face was the saddest that ever was seen, For if 'twere not washed it was seldom quite clean; He showed most his teeth when he happened to grin, His mouth stood across 'twixt his nose and his chin. At last he fell sick, as old chronicles tell, And then, as folk said, he was not very well! And what is more strange, in so weak a condition, As he could not give fees, he could get no physician. What a pity he died; yet 'tis said that his death Was occasioned at last by the want of his breath. But peace to his bones, which in ashes now moulder, Had he lived a day longer he'd been a day older.
[Illustration: Piper and Cow.]
Piper and His Cow
There was and old piper who had a cow, But he had no hay to give her, So he took his pipes and played her a tune "Consider, old cow, consider."
Old John Brown
Poor old John Brown is dead and gone, We ne'er shall see him more; He used to wear an old brown coat, All button'd down before.
Three Wise Men
Three wise men of Gotham, Went to sea in a bowl; If the bowl it had been stronger, My song would have been longer.
Frightened Old Man