Part 6

When the sun has left the hilltop, And the daisy-fringe is furled, When the birds from wood and meadow In their hidden nests are curled, Then I think of all the babies That are sleeping in the world.

There are babies in the high lands And babies in the low, There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins On the margin of the snow, And brown ones naked in the isles Where all the spices grow.

And some are in the palace, On a white and downy bed; And some are in the garret, With a clout beneath their head; And some are on the cold, hard earth, Whose mothers have no bread.

O little men and women, Dear flowers yet unblown-- O little kings and beggars Of the pageant yet unshown-- Sleep soft and dream pale dreams now, To-morrow is your own.

MY DOLLY

Hush, Dolly, bye, Dolly, sleep, Dolly, dear, See what a bed, Dolly, I've for you here; Therefore, to sleep, Dolly! don't fret and cry; Lay down your head, Dolly, shut up your eye.

When the bright morn, Dolly, once more has come, Up gets the sun, and goes forth to roam; Then shall my dear Dolly soon get up, too; Then shall be playtime for me and for you.

Now go to sleep, Dolly, good night to you; You must to bed, Dolly--I'm going too; Just go to sleep without trouble or pain, And in the morning I'll come back again.

THE CHILD AND THE WORLD

I see a nest in a green elm-tree With little brown sparrows--one, two, three! The elm-tree stretches its branches wide, And the nest is soft and warm inside. At morn the sun, so golden bright, Climbs up to fill the world with light; It opens the flowers, it wakens me, And wakens the birdies--one, two, three. And leaning out of my window high, I look far up at the blue, blue sky, And then far out at the earth so green, And think it the loveliest ever seen-- The loveliest world that ever was seen!

EVENING SONG

BY C. FRANCES ALEXANDER

Little birds sleep sweetly In their soft round nests, Crouching in the cover Of their mother's breasts. Little lambs lie quiet, All the summer night, With their old ewe mothers, Warm, and soft, and white.

But more sweet and quiet Lie our little heads, With our own dear mothers Sitting by our beds; And their soft sweet voices Sing our hush-a-byes, While the room grows darker, As we shut our eyes.

And we play at evening Round our father's knees; Birds are not so merry, Singing on the trees, Lambs are not so happy, 'Mid the meadow flowers; They have play and pleasure, But not love like ours.

ROCK-A-BYE, BABY

Rock-a-bye, baby, your cradle is green, Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen, And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring, And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the King.

THE SANDMAN

BY MARGARET VANDERGRIFT

The rosy clouds float overhead The sun is going down, And now the Sandman's gentle tread Comes stealing through the town. "White sand, white sand," he softly cries, And as he shakes his hand, Straightway there lies on babies' eyes His gift of shining sand. Blue eyes, black eyes, gray eyes and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.

From sunny beaches far away-- Yes, in another land-- He gathers up at break of day His store of shining sand. No tempests beat that shore remote, No ships may sail that way, His little boat alone may float Within that lovely bay. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.

He smiles to see the eyelids close Above the happy eyes; And every child right well he knows-- Oh, he is very wise! But if, as he goes through the land, A naughty baby cries, His other hand takes dull gray sand To close the wakeful eyes. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.

So when you hear the Sandman's song Sound through the twilight sweet, Be sure you do not keep him long A-waiting on the street. Lie softly down, dear little head, Rest quiet, busy hands, Till, by your bed his good-night said, He strews the shining sands. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.

THE FAIRY FOLK

BY ROBERT BIRD

Come cuddle close in daddy's coat Beside the fire so bright, And hear about the fairy folk That wander in the night. For when the stars are shining clear And all the world is still, They float across the silver moon From hill to cloudy hill.

Their caps of red, their cloaks of green, Are hung with silver bells, And when they're shaken with the wind Their merry ringing swells, And riding on the crimson moth, With black spots on his wings, They guide them down the purple sky With golden bridle rings.

They love to visit girls and boys, To see how sweet they sleep, To stand beside their cozy cots And at their faces peep. For in the whole of fairy-land They have no finer sight Than little children sleeping sound With faces rosy bright.

On tiptoe crowding round their heads, When bright the moonlight beams, They whisper little tender words That fill their minds with dreams; And when they see a sunny smile, With lightest finger tips They lay a hundred kisses sweet Upon the ruddy lips.

And then the little spotted moths Spread out their crimson wings, And bear away the fairy crowd With shaking bridle rings. Come bairnies, hide in daddy's coat, Beside the fire so bright-- Perhaps the little fairy folk Will visit you to-night.

QUEEN MAB

BY THOMAS HOOD

A little fairy comes at night; Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown, With silver spots upon her wings, And from the moon she flutters down.

She has a little silver wand, And when a good child goes to bed, She waves her wand from right to left, And makes a circle round its head.

And then it dreams of pleasant things-- Of fountains filled with fairy fish, And trees that bear delicious fruit. And bow their branches at a wish.

Of arbors filled with dainty scents From lovely flowers that never fade, Bright flies that glitter in the sun, And glow-worms shining in the shade.

And talking birds with gifted tongues For singing songs and telling tales, And pretty dwarfs to show the way Through fairy hills and fairy dales.

But when a bad child goes to bed, From left to right she weaves her rings, And then it dreams all through the night Of only ugly, horrid things!

Then lions come with glaring eyes, And tigers growl, a dreadful noise, And ogres draw their cruel knives, To shed the blood of girls and boys.

Then stormy waves rush on to drown, Or raging flames come scorching round, Fierce dragons hover in the air, And serpents crawl along the ground.

Then wicked children wake and weep, And wish the long black gloom away; But good ones love the dark, and find The night as pleasant as the day.

LULLABY

BY GERTRUDE THOMPSON MILLER

Come lay your head on my breast, my dear, That I may feel your sweet form near; Then we'll rock, rock, in the rocking chair, And play we're sailing up through the air.

Your body so warm, so close, and so round, A more precious bundle ne'er was found; Just nestle your head right here on my arm, And Mother will keep you safe from all harm.

Now, we rock, rock, and away we go, Over the houses and trees, just so, Like the birds, we'll fly to a sunny land, And there we'll join the fairies' band.

We'll take them to ride; we'll sail for home, For Father is there, and he's all alone; Then we'll alight on the nursery bed, Fairies for company in Mother's stead.

KENTUCKY BABE[F]

BY RICHARD HENRY BUCK

Skeeters am a hummin' on de honeysuckle vine, Sleep, Kentucky Babe! San'man am a comin' to dis little coon of mine,-- Sleep, Kentucky Babe! Silv'ry moon am shinin' in de heabens up above, Bobolink am pinin' fo' his little lady love: Yo' is mighty lucky, babe of old Kentucky,-- Close yo' eyes in sleep.

Fly away, Kentucky Babe, fly away to rest, Lay yo' kinky, woolly head on yo' mammy's breast,-- Um-um-um-um,-- Close yo' eyes in sleep.

Daddy's in de canebrake wid his little dog and gun,-- Sleep, Kentucky Babe! Possum fo' yo' breakfast when yo' sleepin' time is done,-- Sleep, Kentucky Babe! Bogie man'll catch yo' sure unless yo' close yo' eyes, Waitin' jes outside de doo' to take yo' by surprise! Close yo' eyes in sleep.

[F] These words are published by the Company in the form of a musical composition by Adam Geibel, the well-known composer.

MY POSSESSIONS

I'm a rich man, If ever there was one: I've a horse and an apple, And both are my own.

But some others might wish Such fine presents to keep; So I'll take them to bed, To hold while asleep.

And when in the morning I wake up once more, I've my toy and my apple, To me a rich store.

THE WAKE-UP STORY[G]

BY EUDORA S. BUMSTEAD

The sun was up and the breeze was blowing, and the five chicks, and four geese, and three rabbits, and two kitties, and one little dog were just as noisy and lively as they knew how to be.

They were all watching for Baby Ray to appear at the window, but he was still fast asleep in his little white bed, while mamma was making ready the things he would need when he would wake up.

First, she went along the orchard path as far as the old wooden pump, and said: "Good pump, will you give me some nice, clear water for the baby's bath?"

And the pump was willing.

The good old pump by the orchard path Gave nice, clear water for the baby's bath.

Then she went a little further on the path, and stopped at the woodpile, and said: "Good chips, the pump has given me nice, clear water for dear Baby Ray; will you come and warm the water and cook his food?"

And the chips were willing.

The good old pump by the orchard path Gave nice clear water for the baby's bath. And the clean white chips from the pile of wood Were glad to warm it and cook his food.

So mamma went on till she came to the barn, and then said: "Good cow, the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile has given me clean, white chips for dear little Ray; will you give me warm, rich milk?"

And the cow was willing.

Then she said to the top-knot hen that was scratching in the straw: "Good Biddy, the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile has given me clean, white chips, and the cow has given me warm, rich milk for dear little Ray; will you give me a new-laid egg?"

And the hen was willing.

The good old pump by the orchard path Gave nice, clear water for the baby's bath. The clean, white chips from the pile of wood Were glad to warm it and cook his food. The cow gave milk in the milk-pail bright, And the top-knot Biddy an egg new and white.

Then mamma went on till she came to the orchard, and said to a Red June apple tree: "Good tree, the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile has given me clean, white chips, and the cow has given me warm, rich milk, and the hen has given me a new-laid egg for dear little Ray; will you give me a pretty, red apple?"

And the tree was willing.

So mamma took the apple and the egg and the milk and the chips and the water to the house, and there was Baby Ray in his nightgown looking out of the window.

And she kissed him and bathed him and dressed him, and while she brushed and curled his soft, brown hair, she told him the Wake-Up Story that I am telling you.

The good old pump by the orchard path Gave nice, clear water for the baby's bath. The clean, white chips from the pile of wood Were glad to warm it and cook his food. The cow gave milk in the milk-pail bright; The top-knot Biddy an egg new and white; And the tree gave an apple so round and so red, For dear little Ray who was just out of bed.

[G] Used by permission of _The Youth's Companion_.

#FIRST STORIES FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK#

ABOUT SIX LITTLE CHICKENS

BY S. L. ELLIOTT

[Illustration: "A LITTLE GIRL CAME OUT WITH SOME CORN-MEAL IN A DISH."]

A Mother Biddy sat on her nest, with what do you think in the nest? Six smooth white eggs! After she had sat there quite a long time till she was very tired, what do you suppose happened to one of those eggs? There was a noise that went "snick, snick," and out of the shell stepped something like a little fuzzy ball, but with two bright eyes, and two bits of feet to walk on. What do you think it was? A little chicken? Yes, and Mother Biddy was so glad to see it, and she called it "Fluffy." And Fluffy said "Peep, peep! I have some brothers and sisters in the shells; if you call them, I think they will come." So Mother Biddy said "Cluck, cluck!" and something said: "Peep, peep!" and out came another chicken, as black as it could be, so Mother Biddy called it "Topsy." "Are there any more?" said Mother Biddy. "Yes. Peep, peep! We're coming; wait for us," and there came four more little chickens as fast as they could run. One was as white as snow, and Mother Biddy called it "Snowball." The next was yellow and white, and she named it "Daisy." Then there was a yellow one with a brown ring around its neck, and that was called "Brownie." And what do you think! one was all black, only it had a little white spot on the top of its head that looked like a cap, so Mother Biddy called it "Spottie." Now they were all out of their shells, and they said: "Peep, peep! We're hungry." So Mother Biddy said: "Cluck, cluck! Come see my babies," and out of the house, close by, came a little girl with some corn-meal in a dish, and my! wasn't she glad to see the chickens?

[Illustration: FLUFFY TOPSY SNOWBALL DAISY BROWNIE SPOTTIE]

After they had eaten all they wanted, they thought they would take a walk and see this queer world they had come to live in.

Pretty soon they came to a brook, and they all stood in a row and looked in. "Let us have a drink," they said, so they put their heads down, when--

"Peep, peep!" said Spottie. "I see a little chicken with a spot on its head."

"No, no," said Brownie; "it has a ring around its neck, and looks like me."

"Peep, peep!" said Daisy. "I think it's like me, for it is yellow and white." And I don't know but they would all have tumbled in to see if they hadn't felt something drop right on the ends of their noses. "What's that?" said Fluffy.

"Cluck, cluck!" said Mother Biddy. "Every chicken of you come in, for it is going to rain, and you'll get your feathers wet."

So they ran as fast as they could, and in a few minutes the six little chickens were all cuddled under Mother Biddy's wing, fast asleep.

"TRADE-LAST"

BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS

"My frock is green." "My frock is blue." "You look pretty." "So do you."

PHILIP'S HORSE

[Illustration: PHILIP IN HIS "ROUGH-RIDER" SUIT.]

Little Philip was very fond of horses, and as he was too old to sit on a chair or box or trunk and make believe a rocking-horse was pulling it along his bedroom floor, his father bought him a horse all spotted brown and white, with a beautiful white mane; and Philip loved to get up on his back.

In winter he would go out in his sleigh, even when the snow was deep. It was jolly fun to be in the sleigh all wrapped up cozy and warm in furry robes. He would crack his long whip and make it sound almost as loud as a fire-cracker. He used to carry a make-believe pistol when he dressed up in his "Rough-Rider" suit and went horseback-riding. But all the neighbors thought it was funny that Philip would always leave the saddle on his horse when he went out in his sleigh. But you won't think it is funny when I tell you a secret--maybe you have guessed it already--Philip couldn't get the saddle off, because, don't you see, his horse was only a make-believe, hobby-horse.

[Illustration: PHILIP IN HIS SLEIGH.]

The Kitten That Forgot How to Mew

By Stella George Stern

All little girls, and little boys too, like to read stories about kittens. Here is a story about a dear little kitten that belonged to a dear little girl named Peggy.

Peggy had two brothers, and three cousins--all boys--and every boy had a little dog. At first the dogs would tease the kitten, but they soon learned better. The dogs and the kitten played together. All day long, out in the yard, you could hear them going, "Bow-wow!" and "Mew!"

But, you see, there was only one little "Mew" and ever so many "Bow-wows," and after a while the kitten hardly ever spoke at all.

But one day the kitten wanted to mew, and--what do you suppose?--she had forgotten how to do it! She tried and tried, and all she could say was "M-m-m-bow!"--just as much like a dog as a kitten. She was so sad. She ran out into the yard and cried.

The Big White Hen passed by and asked what was the matter.

"Oh, Big White Hen," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Hen; "I will teach you to talk. Listen to this: M-m-m-cut, cut, cut, cut, cut-ca-_da_-cut!"

"No," said the kitten; "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she cried again.

Then along came the Sheep and asked, "What is the matter?"

"Oh, Sheep," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Sheep; "I will teach you to talk. Listen: M-m-m-baa!"

"No," said the kitten, "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she cried again.

Then along came the Horse and asked what was the matter.

"Oh, Horse," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Horse; "I will teach you to talk. Listen to this: M-m-m-neigh!"

"No," said the kitten; "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she cried again.

Then along came the Cow and asked what was the matter.

"Oh, Cow," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, as hard as I ever can, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Cow; "I will teach you to talk. Listen to this: M-m-m-moo!"

"No," said the kitten; "that is more like it, but that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she cried again.

The New Baby was sitting in her high chair at the kitchen door.

"Baby dear," sighed the kitten, "I am in trouble. I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow! Can't you teach me?"

The Baby nodded her head and began, "M-m-m-google-google-goo!"

"No," said the kitten; "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she sat on the kitchen step and cried again.

"What is the matter?" asked a soft voice behind her.

"Oh!" sobbed the kitten, without looking up, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and nothing can help me. All I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Look at me," said the soft voice.

The little kitten looked. And there stood a beautiful big gray cat!

"I can teach you to talk," said the Cat. And she did. She taught her so well that the little kitten never again forgot how to mew, though she played out on the soft, green grass with the dogs every day.

WHAT COULD THE FARMER DO?

BY GEORGE WILLIAM OGDEN

There was an old farmer who had a cow, Moo, moo, moo! She used to stand on the pump and bow, And what could the farmer do? Moo, moo, moo, moo, Moo, moo, moo! She used to stand on the pump and bow, And what could the farmer do?

There was an old farmer who owned some sheep, Baa, baa, baa! They used to play cribbage while he was asleep, And laugh at the farmer's ma. Baa, baa, baa, baa! Moo, moo, moo! He owned a cow and he owned some sheep, And what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who owned a pig, Whoof, whoof, whoof! He used to dress up in the farmer's wig, And dance on the pig-pen roof. Whoof, whoof! Baa, baa! Moo, moo, moo! He owned a pig, some sheep, and a cow, And what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who owned a hen, Cuk-a-ca-doo, ca-doo! She used to lay eggs for the three hired men, And some for the weasel, too. Cuk-a-ca-doo! Whoof, whoof! Baa, baa! Moo! He owned a hen, pig, sheep, and a cow, And what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who had a duck, Quack, quack, quack! She waddled under a two-horse truck For four long miles and back. Quack, quack! Cuk-a-ca-doo! Whoof! Baa! Moo! With a duck, hen, pig, a sheep, and a cow, Pray what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who had a cat, Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow! She used to waltz with a gray old rat By night in the farmer's mow. Mee-ow! Quack! Cuk-a-ca-doo! Whoof! Baa! Moo! With cat, duck, hen, pig, sheep, and a cow, Pray what could the poor man do?

FLEDGLINGS

BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS

I saw a stork on a chimney high, And called to him as I passed by, "O stork! what'll you bring, Tucked away carefully under your wing? A baby sister and a brother, One for me, and one for mother."

"TIME TO GET UP!"

BY ELLEN FOSTER

Little Elinor Gray lived in a big city, but her grandmother lived in a big house in the country. Elinor and her Nurse Norah were going to visit her, and had to take a long ride in the railway-train, and another ride in a carriage that Grandmother sent to meet them, so it was almost dark when they drove up to the door.