Write very often, children,—
Write papa very soon;
Your letters will be dearer
Than lovliest flowers in June;
For papa will be absent
Throughout the long, long year.
Write to him very often
What he will wish to hear.
Write papa very soon;
Your letters will be dearer
Than lovliest flowers in June;
For papa will be absent
Throughout the long, long year.
Write to him very often
What he will wish to hear.
That Fred and sister Bessie
Are learning with their might,
And little Nell and Jessie
Are doing what is right.
Dear children, help each other,
At morning, noon, and night,
And then your happy mother
Will find it sweet to write.
Are learning with their might,
And little Nell and Jessie
Are doing what is right.
Dear children, help each other,
At morning, noon, and night,
And then your happy mother
Will find it sweet to write.
Write papa very often,—
Write in the early morn,
Or write him just at twilight,
When all the day is gone;
Draw out the pretty table,
Mamma will bring a light,
And help the older children
To gather round and write.
Write in the early morn,
Or write him just at twilight,
When all the day is gone;
Draw out the pretty table,
Mamma will bring a light,
And help the older children
To gather round and write.
Write of the loving kindness
Of that dear Friend above,
To whom, in papa’s absence,
He would lead your hearts in love.
Think of Him in the morning,
And think of Him at night,
And of his acts of kindness
Do not forget to write.
Of that dear Friend above,
To whom, in papa’s absence,
He would lead your hearts in love.
Think of Him in the morning,
And think of Him at night,
And of his acts of kindness
Do not forget to write.
Write very often, dear ones,—
Write papa very soon,
Your letters will be dearer
Than loveliest flowers in June.
If, while papa is absent,
You’d fill him with delight,
Think of him very often,
And don’t forget to write.
Write papa very soon,
Your letters will be dearer
Than loveliest flowers in June.
If, while papa is absent,
You’d fill him with delight,
Think of him very often,
And don’t forget to write.
JANE’S QUESTION.
“Mamma,” said Jane, “what will you do
When you have read your Bible through?
You read so carefully each part,
I think you’ll know it all by heart.”
When you have read your Bible through?
You read so carefully each part,
I think you’ll know it all by heart.”
Her mother smiled and said, “Why, then
I mean to read it through again;
And hope my daughter soon will be
Able to read God’s Book with me.”
I mean to read it through again;
And hope my daughter soon will be
Able to read God’s Book with me.”
“Yes, dear mamma, I soon shall read,
I’m learning very fast, indeed;
And I should gladly leave my play
For Bible stories any day.
I’m learning very fast, indeed;
And I should gladly leave my play
For Bible stories any day.
“But, then, you know, to me they’re new;
Now, when I’ve read a book twice through,
I’m tired of it, and want another,—
Why do you not feel so, dear mother?”
Now, when I’ve read a book twice through,
I’m tired of it, and want another,—
Why do you not feel so, dear mother?”
“Indeed, my love, I often do
Tire of some books as quick as you;
I should not even read them twice,
Once reading will for me suffice.
Tire of some books as quick as you;
I should not even read them twice,
Once reading will for me suffice.
“But we may read, and read again,
These sweet words of our Father, Jane,
From youth to age, and as we come
Nearer and nearer to our home—
These sweet words of our Father, Jane,
From youth to age, and as we come
Nearer and nearer to our home—
“Our happy home in heaven above,
This Book we more and more shall love;
Sweeter than honey, and more dear
Than precious gems, ’twill then appear.
This Book we more and more shall love;
Sweeter than honey, and more dear
Than precious gems, ’twill then appear.
JOHN MASON AND HIS SLED
“O, how I wish we owned a sleigh,”
Said Susie to her mother;
“I want to go to school to-day,
With Nellie and my brother!”
Said Susie to her mother;
“I want to go to school to-day,
With Nellie and my brother!”
Her mother sighed, and said, “My dear,
Your sister cannot go;
They have not made a path, I fear,
Since this great fall of snow.”
Your sister cannot go;
They have not made a path, I fear,
Since this great fall of snow.”
Here James ran in with joy, and said,
“Dear mother, come and see;
John Mason’s here with his new sled,
He offers it to me
“Dear mother, come and see;
John Mason’s here with his new sled,
He offers it to me
“To take our Nell to school to-day;
I am to be the horse;
Please wrap her up without delay,
You’ll let her go, of course!”
I am to be the horse;
Please wrap her up without delay,
You’ll let her go, of course!”
“And Susie, too,” John Mason cried,
“I’ll take her on my back;
Nell and the dinner, both can ride,—
John, follow in my track!”
“I’ll take her on my back;
Nell and the dinner, both can ride,—
John, follow in my track!”
The mother’s heart was filled with joy,
She watched them from the door,
A happy group! And that dear boy
Who thought upon the poor,
She watched them from the door,
A happy group! And that dear boy
Who thought upon the poor,
Think you, he was not happy, too,
When he went home at night!
If you would hear the story through,
Read “Right, and About Right.”[3]
When he went home at night!
If you would hear the story through,
Read “Right, and About Right.”[3]
RIDE TO SCHOOL IN WINTER.
“We are ready;
Let us go
Swiftly over
Ice and snow;
Nell and Susie,
Side by side,
You shall have
A glorious ride!”
See the happy children go
Smoothly o’er the ice and snow!
Let us go
Swiftly over
Ice and snow;
Nell and Susie,
Side by side,
You shall have
A glorious ride!”
See the happy children go
Smoothly o’er the ice and snow!
“Clasp your arms
Around me tight;
Hold on, Susie,
That is right;—
Nellie, keep
The basket still
When we dash
Down yonder hill!”
Thus the happy children go
Briskly o’er the ice and snow.
Around me tight;
Hold on, Susie,
That is right;—
Nellie, keep
The basket still
When we dash
Down yonder hill!”
Thus the happy children go
Briskly o’er the ice and snow.
“Wintry weather
Cannot harm us,
Nor Jack Frost
E’er alarm us;
How exciting!
Onward move,
Hearts uniting
Thus in love.”
Merrily singing, on they go
Quickly o’er the ice and snow.
Cannot harm us,
Nor Jack Frost
E’er alarm us;
How exciting!
Onward move,
Hearts uniting
Thus in love.”
Merrily singing, on they go
Quickly o’er the ice and snow.
“Oh, we love
This bracing air,
Though the snow
Is everywhere;
Fingers cold?
Never mind it.
There’s a fire,
We shall find it,
When we reach the school, you know,
Over the ice and over the snow.
This bracing air,
Though the snow
Is everywhere;
Fingers cold?
Never mind it.
There’s a fire,
We shall find it,
When we reach the school, you know,
Over the ice and over the snow.
“Now we toil
Up the hill,
Wear-i-ly,
But upward still,
Soon the height
We shall gain,
Pull the sled
With might and main.”
Struggling, toiling, up they go
Wearily over the ice and snow!
Up the hill,
Wear-i-ly,
But upward still,
Soon the height
We shall gain,
Pull the sled
With might and main.”
Struggling, toiling, up they go
Wearily over the ice and snow!
Then along
The level ground,
On they go
With a bound;
Merry shouts
Everywhere
Ringing through
The frosty air;
See the happy children go
Smoothly o’er the ice and snow!
The level ground,
On they go
With a bound;
Merry shouts
Everywhere
Ringing through
The frosty air;
See the happy children go
Smoothly o’er the ice and snow!
See! they’re dashing
Down the hill,
Boys are calling,
“Nell, be still!”
Teeth are chattering
In her head,
Dishes rattling
On the sled;
Girls are frightened though they go
Safely o’er the ice and snow.
Down the hill,
Boys are calling,
“Nell, be still!”
Teeth are chattering
In her head,
Dishes rattling
On the sled;
Girls are frightened though they go
Safely o’er the ice and snow.
Now they near
The school-house door—
There’s the pond
All frozen o’er;
Hear the happy
Children singing,
Through the air
Their voices ringing;
Sliding, skating, merrily, oh!
Swiftly over the ice and snow!
The school-house door—
There’s the pond
All frozen o’er;
Hear the happy
Children singing,
Through the air
Their voices ringing;
Sliding, skating, merrily, oh!
Swiftly over the ice and snow!
THE KIND BROTHER.
Coach is tackled;
Sister, run,
Put your gloves
And bonnet on!
Sister, run,
Put your gloves
And bonnet on!
It is about
A week ago,
We were promised,
Sis, you know,
A week ago,
We were promised,
Sis, you know,
Were we good,
We should to-day
Take the coach
And ride away.
We should to-day
Take the coach
And ride away.
Cousins now
Are all at home;
Glad they’ll be
To see us come.
Are all at home;
Glad they’ll be
To see us come.
Oh, how pleasant
’Tis to ride,
All along
The river side!
’Tis to ride,
All along
The river side!
Now you’r crying!
Are’nt you well?
What’s the matter?
Mary, tell?
Are’nt you well?
What’s the matter?
Mary, tell?
THE FIRST LIE.
Brother, do not
Ask me why!
Yet, you’ll hear,—
I’ve told a lie!
Ask me why!
Yet, you’ll hear,—
I’ve told a lie!
And here, shut up,
I’m doomed to stay,
And weep and mourn
The livelong day!
I’m doomed to stay,
And weep and mourn
The livelong day!
Dear Harry I’m
Afraid that you
And Harriet,
Will hate me too.
Afraid that you
And Harriet,
Will hate me too.
For, since I’ve told
This lie, mamma
Don’t speak to me,
Nor does papa.
This lie, mamma
Don’t speak to me,
Nor does papa.
Oh, they will hate me,
I’m afraid,
And God, who heard
The words I said,
I’m afraid,
And God, who heard
The words I said,
Will shut all liars
Out of heaven;
Oh, can I ever
Be forgiven?
Out of heaven;
Oh, can I ever
Be forgiven?
HARRY.
GRANITE HILLS IN WINTER.
These hills, so magnificent, lofty, and great!
The boast of New Hampshire—the Old Granite State!
I have seen them, dear children, and much I admire
These beautiful hills in their wintry attire.
The boast of New Hampshire—the Old Granite State!
I have seen them, dear children, and much I admire
These beautiful hills in their wintry attire.
The Ice King has laid his cold hand on the rills,
They cannot now playfully leap down the hills;
Snowy mountain and valley alike are made hoary;
Jack Frost reigns triumphant, alone in his glory.
They cannot now playfully leap down the hills;
Snowy mountain and valley alike are made hoary;
Jack Frost reigns triumphant, alone in his glory.
One sees, now and then, a lonely snow-bird,
But old Robin red-breast no longer is heard
Warbling out a glad song to the praise of her Maker,
She has gone where the Ice King cannot overtake her.
But old Robin red-breast no longer is heard
Warbling out a glad song to the praise of her Maker,
She has gone where the Ice King cannot overtake her.
Who guides the dear birds, that they never get lost
When seeking a home to escape from the frost?
Our Father in Heaven—he guides them aright,
Till away in the bright, sunny South they alight.
When seeking a home to escape from the frost?
Our Father in Heaven—he guides them aright,
Till away in the bright, sunny South they alight.
So long as these lofty old hills shall remain,
And spring shall renew their bright verdure again,
Our loving, kind Father shall still fondly care
For the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air.
And spring shall renew their bright verdure again,
Our loving, kind Father shall still fondly care
For the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air.
Not a robin or sparrow can fall to the ground;
Not a raven may cry but he heareth the sound.
Then will not “Our Father in Heaven” be nigh,
And bless us, dear children, when we, too, shall cry?
Not a raven may cry but he heareth the sound.
Then will not “Our Father in Heaven” be nigh,
And bless us, dear children, when we, too, shall cry?
Oh, yes! Are ye not of more value than they?
In accents most tender, we hear Jesus say;
And I’m sure, if God takes such kind care of a bird,
Our prayers, if sincere, cannot fail to be heard.
In accents most tender, we hear Jesus say;
And I’m sure, if God takes such kind care of a bird,
Our prayers, if sincere, cannot fail to be heard.
THE LAKE—ISLES—NOTCH—WHITE MOUNTAINS, ETC.
If a map of the Old Granite State you will take,
Near the borders of Maine you will find that large lake,
The Winnipisogee,—so lovely to view
Embosoming islands most beautiful, too.
Near the borders of Maine you will find that large lake,
The Winnipisogee,—so lovely to view
Embosoming islands most beautiful, too.
In number they equal the days of the year;
And when summer comes no islands appear
More lovely in verdure and beauty than these,
With rich, fruitful fields, and beautiful trees—
And when summer comes no islands appear
More lovely in verdure and beauty than these,
With rich, fruitful fields, and beautiful trees—
So vocal with birds, warbling out their sweet lays,
As if they were chanting their Maker’s praise,
Could you then view the lake, dear children, the sight
Would fill your young hearts with the greatest delight.
As if they were chanting their Maker’s praise,
Could you then view the lake, dear children, the sight
Would fill your young hearts with the greatest delight.
Another famed spot is a narrow defile,
Where the mountain seems split for more than a mile,
And a picturesque landscape around you is spread,
With the White Mountains hanging just over your head.
Where the mountain seems split for more than a mile,
And a picturesque landscape around you is spread,
With the White Mountains hanging just over your head.
This Notch is so wonderful, travellers agree,
It repays one to come a long distance to see;
Amid Alpine heights such views may abound,
But in our own country they seldom are found.
It repays one to come a long distance to see;
Amid Alpine heights such views may abound,
But in our own country they seldom are found.
American Switzerland! Such is the name
We give to the Old Granite State for the fame
Of its islands and lakes, its cascades and fountains,
And the bold, lofty peaks of the snowy White Mountains.
We give to the Old Granite State for the fame
Of its islands and lakes, its cascades and fountains,
And the bold, lofty peaks of the snowy White Mountains.
SHUN THE SWEARER.
What a sight
We descry
When the Falls
Meet our eye!
We descry
When the Falls
Meet our eye!
THE TELL-TALE.
Emma, I’m sorry to observe
A trick you have, my dear,
Of listening to whate’er is said,
And telling all you hear.
A trick you have, my dear,
Of listening to whate’er is said,
And telling all you hear.
I knew a little Judith Shove,
Who had this habit, too;
She was an active, sprightly girl,
About as old as you.
Who had this habit, too;
She was an active, sprightly girl,
About as old as you.
But what was said and done at home
She always minded well,
And, when she went abroad, the whole
She would be sure to tell.
She always minded well,
And, when she went abroad, the whole
She would be sure to tell.
People were cautious what they said
Where’er she chanced to come,
For well they knew that every word
Would straight be carried home.
Where’er she chanced to come,
For well they knew that every word
Would straight be carried home.
The teacher who instructed her,
Had made this wholesome rule,
To punish every child who told
Of what was done in school.
Had made this wholesome rule,
To punish every child who told
Of what was done in school.
But Judith loved to talk so well,
No rule could hold her long;
She could not bear to be restrained,
Nor learn to hold her tongue.
No rule could hold her long;
She could not bear to be restrained,
Nor learn to hold her tongue.
One day a scholar misbehaved,
This made the teacher fret,
And Judith told the whole affair
To every one she met.
This made the teacher fret,
And Judith told the whole affair
To every one she met.
But, when the active school-dame heard
Her laws were disobeyed,
To find the naughty tell-tale child,
A search she quickly made.
Her laws were disobeyed,
To find the naughty tell-tale child,
A search she quickly made.
Judith well knew the fault was hers,
And greatly did she fear
To take the threatened punishment
Which she deserved to bear.
And greatly did she fear
To take the threatened punishment
Which she deserved to bear.
So, on her little sister she
Contrived the blame to lay,
And said she heard her tell the tale
At home that very day.
Contrived the blame to lay,
And said she heard her tell the tale
At home that very day.
The little, frightened, trembling child
With truth the charge denied;
But Judith said, before the school,
That little Sallie lied.
With truth the charge denied;
But Judith said, before the school,
That little Sallie lied.
And so she bore what would have been
The wicked Judith’s due,—
The punishment for telling tales,
And speaking falsely, too.
The wicked Judith’s due,—
The punishment for telling tales,
And speaking falsely, too.
Weeping and sobbing she went home,
Her little heart was full;
And Sallie was a child of truth,
So they believed the whole.
Her little heart was full;
And Sallie was a child of truth,
So they believed the whole.
Papa made Judith go to school,
And there, before them all,
Own how deceitful she had been;
Then on her knees to fall
Before the dame and Sallie, too,
Their pardon to obtain,
And promise she would never do
So wickedly again.
And there, before them all,
Own how deceitful she had been;
Then on her knees to fall
Before the dame and Sallie, too,
Their pardon to obtain,
And promise she would never do
So wickedly again.
But ever after, let her go
Abroad where’er she would,
The boys would hoot her as she passed,
And call her—Tattling Jude!
Abroad where’er she would,
The boys would hoot her as she passed,
And call her—Tattling Jude!
THE STOLEN PENKNIFE.
“Harry, darling, what’s the matter;
Have you hurt yourself, my boy?
When I went away, this morning,
That bright face was full of joy.”
Have you hurt yourself, my boy?
When I went away, this morning,
That bright face was full of joy.”
“Oh, papa,” said Harry, sobbing,
“I do think it is a shame,
My new knife is gone—he stole it,
And I do not know his name.”
“I do think it is a shame,
My new knife is gone—he stole it,
And I do not know his name.”
“Your new knife! Who stole it, Harry?”
“That big boy, papa, who brought
Shavings here to sell, this morning;
Oh I wish he could be caught.
“That big boy, papa, who brought
Shavings here to sell, this morning;
Oh I wish he could be caught.
“I was standing on the sidewalk,
Whittling with my knife to-day,
When he came, and asked to see it,
Then he turned and ran away.”
Whittling with my knife to-day,
When he came, and asked to see it,
Then he turned and ran away.”
“Wicked boy! I think I know him;
’Twas a naughty thing to do;
I will bring you home another,
Like the one he stole from you.
’Twas a naughty thing to do;
I will bring you home another,
Like the one he stole from you.
“That poor boy has no kind parents,
Nor a bright and happy home;
Wicked children are his playmates,
Through the streets he loves to roam.
Nor a bright and happy home;
Wicked children are his playmates,
Through the streets he loves to roam.
“There he learns to be so sinful,
Lying, stealing, every day;
He has no kind friends to teach him,
Morn and evening, how to pray.
Lying, stealing, every day;
He has no kind friends to teach him,
Morn and evening, how to pray.
“Should you not be thankful, darling,
God has been so good to you;
Given you friends so kind and loving,
Taught you what you ought to do?
God has been so good to you;
Given you friends so kind and loving,
Taught you what you ought to do?
CROSS GIRL.
MOTHER.
AMELIA.
I can’t, mamma, the little minx
May play with whom she can;
And while she lives she shall not have
My waxen doll again.
May play with whom she can;
And while she lives she shall not have
My waxen doll again.
“With any other little girl
I should be glad to play;
But I don’t love our Frances, Ma,
I wish she’d go away.
I should be glad to play;
But I don’t love our Frances, Ma,
I wish she’d go away.
MOTHER.
Amelia, little Betsy Smith
Spends all her time alone;
She had a little sister once,
But now she’s dead and gone.
Spends all her time alone;
She had a little sister once,
But now she’s dead and gone.
Betsy, like you, was very cross,
And when she used to play
“With pretty little Emeline,
She’d quarrel every day.
And when she used to play
“With pretty little Emeline,
She’d quarrel every day.
One time her sister said to her,
“Don’t, Betsy, be so cross;
Indeed, I am not well to-day,
And fear I shall be worse.”
“Don’t, Betsy, be so cross;
Indeed, I am not well to-day,
And fear I shall be worse.”
“Not well! Oh, yes, you’re very sick!
I don’t believe it’s true;
You only want to coax Mamma
To get nice things for you.”
I don’t believe it’s true;
You only want to coax Mamma
To get nice things for you.”
But Emeline grew worse and worse,
Till she could hardly speak;
And when the doctor came he said,
She would not live a week.
Till she could hardly speak;
And when the doctor came he said,
She would not live a week.
And then it rushed on Betsy’s mind,
How wicked she had been;
The cruel treatment of the child
She never felt till then.
How wicked she had been;
The cruel treatment of the child
She never felt till then.
Over her sister’s bed she hung,
With many a bitter sigh,
And laid her arms about her neck,
and begged her not to die.
With many a bitter sigh,
And laid her arms about her neck,
and begged her not to die.
“Forgive me, Emeline, or else
I do not wish to live;
Oh speak, dear sister, speak once more,
And say you will forgive!
I do not wish to live;
Oh speak, dear sister, speak once more,
And say you will forgive!
The poor, dear, suffering, dying child
Just raised her languid eye,
And moved her lips, and tried to say,
Dear Betsy, do not cry!
Just raised her languid eye,
And moved her lips, and tried to say,
Dear Betsy, do not cry!
Then Betsey’s sorrowing mother tried
To take her from the bed,
She cast her weeping eyes behind,
And Emeline was dead.
To take her from the bed,
She cast her weeping eyes behind,
And Emeline was dead.
And now poor little Betsy sits,
Day after day, alone;
She does not wish to laugh or play
Since Emeline is gone.
Day after day, alone;
She does not wish to laugh or play
Since Emeline is gone.
AMELIA.
Mamma, now see I am not cross;
Come, Fanny, let us play!
And you shall have my waxen doll,
And keep it every day.
Come, Fanny, let us play!
And you shall have my waxen doll,
And keep it every day.
THE FIRST THEFT.
MOTHER.
Edward, come here, how pale you are!
What makes you look so wild?
And you’ve been crying sadly, too!
What’s happened to my child?
What makes you look so wild?
And you’ve been crying sadly, too!
What’s happened to my child?
EDWARD.
You know, mamma, you sent me down
To Mr. Brightman’s shop,
With ninepence in my hand to buy
A little humming-top.
To Mr. Brightman’s shop,
With ninepence in my hand to buy
A little humming-top.
Well, Mr. Brightman handed down
A dozen tops or more,
That I might take my choice of one,
Then stepped towards the door.
A dozen tops or more,
That I might take my choice of one,
Then stepped towards the door.
And so I caught one slily up,
And in my pocket hid it,
No one could e’er suspect the thing,
So cunningly I did it.
And in my pocket hid it,
No one could e’er suspect the thing,
So cunningly I did it.
Then I took out another top,
And laid my ninepence down,
Laughing to think I owned them both,
But paid for only one.
And laid my ninepence down,
Laughing to think I owned them both,
But paid for only one.
But, when I turned and left the shop,
I felt most dreadfully;
For all the while I was afraid
That he would follow me.
I felt most dreadfully;
For all the while I was afraid
That he would follow me.
Oh sure, thought I, he’ll find it out,
The angry man will come,
And I shall never see mamma,
And never more go home.
The angry man will come,
And I shall never see mamma,
And never more go home.
They’ll tie a rope about my neck,
They’ll hang me up on high,
And leave the little, wicked thief
To hang there till he die.
They’ll hang me up on high,
And leave the little, wicked thief
To hang there till he die.
Away I ran, in this sad fright,
Fast down the nearest lane;
And then I stopped and looked behind,
Then screamed, and ran again.
Fast down the nearest lane;
And then I stopped and looked behind,
Then screamed, and ran again.
Trembling, at last I reached my home,
And straight I went to bed,—
But, oh! in such a shocking plight
That I was almost dead.
And straight I went to bed,—
But, oh! in such a shocking plight
That I was almost dead.
No rest nor comfort could I take,
And not a wink of sleep;
All I could do was toss and turn
From side to side and weep.
And not a wink of sleep;
All I could do was toss and turn
From side to side and weep.
But what was worst of all, mamma,
I could not say my prayers;
And then I thought my heart would burst,
For I was drowned in tears.
I could not say my prayers;
And then I thought my heart would burst,
For I was drowned in tears.
For sure, I cried, God will not hear
A child so wicked pray;
I dare not hope he’ll let me live
To see another day.
A child so wicked pray;
I dare not hope he’ll let me live
To see another day.
MOTHER.
Go, my poor, wretched, guilty child,
Go, take the top you stole
And give it to the man you wronged,
And own to him the whole.
Go, take the top you stole
And give it to the man you wronged,
And own to him the whole.
Then, on your knees before your God,
Confess how vile you’ve been;
Beg him to pardon and forgive
This great and dreadful sin.
Confess how vile you’ve been;
Beg him to pardon and forgive
This great and dreadful sin.
And never while you live, again
To such a deed consent,
Lest God should take away your life
Before you could repent.
To such a deed consent,
Lest God should take away your life
Before you could repent.
DOLLY’S NAME.
COOKING, IN OLD TIMES.
No little girl or boy hath guessed
The process or the art
By which the early Indians dressed
And cut their meat apart;
Since neither knife, nor spoon, nor fork,
Had they to aid them in their work.
The process or the art
By which the early Indians dressed
And cut their meat apart;
Since neither knife, nor spoon, nor fork,
Had they to aid them in their work.
A piece of flint or sharpened shell,
The place of knife supplied,
And answered every purpose well,
To free it from the hide,—
To clear the entrails, scrape the hair,
And make the carcass clean and fair.
The place of knife supplied,
And answered every purpose well,
To free it from the hide,—
To clear the entrails, scrape the hair,
And make the carcass clean and fair.
Then in the earth a pit was made,
To hold the fish or game,
There, stones at sides and bottom laid,
An oven it became;
No better did their wants require,
And here they lighted up a fire.
To hold the fish or game,
There, stones at sides and bottom laid,
An oven it became;
No better did their wants require,
And here they lighted up a fire.
From this, when gained sufficient heat,
The glowing coals were dug,
And here the squaw laid in her meat,
With leaves encompassed snug;
With heated stones ’twas covered up
Till time to breakfast, dine, or sup.
The glowing coals were dug,
And here the squaw laid in her meat,
With leaves encompassed snug;
With heated stones ’twas covered up
Till time to breakfast, dine, or sup.
And how, without a pot to boil,
Was taught by Indian wit;
A stone was sought, and mighty toil
A hollow made in it;
And water got its warmth alone,
From heated pebbles in it thrown.
Was taught by Indian wit;
A stone was sought, and mighty toil
A hollow made in it;
And water got its warmth alone,
From heated pebbles in it thrown.
Then other pebbles, burning hot,
Kept up the boiling heat,
And in this strangely-fashioned pot
Was placed the hunter’s meat;
Not over nice, but then, I’m sure,
The Indian was no epicure.
Kept up the boiling heat,
And in this strangely-fashioned pot
Was placed the hunter’s meat;
Not over nice, but then, I’m sure,
The Indian was no epicure.
Fresh fish, well broiled on embers red,
The Indians often saw;
And shell-fish, from their rocky bed,
Were eaten roast or raw.
Thus the Good Spirit kindly gave
His bounteous store to Indian brave.
The Indians often saw;
And shell-fish, from their rocky bed,
Were eaten roast or raw.
Thus the Good Spirit kindly gave
His bounteous store to Indian brave.
SUCCOTASH.
Though many viands Indians prized—
If served to people civilized,
Would cause disdainful smile;
Yet one nice dish of times by-gone,
The succotash, or beans and corn,
When cooked in Indian style,
If served to people civilized,
Would cause disdainful smile;
Yet one nice dish of times by-gone,
The succotash, or beans and corn,
When cooked in Indian style,
To some, is thought a greater treat
Than all the choicest joints of meat
An epicure might choose;
Poultry and game may both abound
Where this delicious dish is found,
I would all else refuse.
Than all the choicest joints of meat
An epicure might choose;
Poultry and game may both abound
Where this delicious dish is found,
I would all else refuse.
Give me no fish, nor barbecue;
Pâté-de-fois, and oysters, too,
Salads and sauces rich,
May tempt an epicure to roam,
But I had rather dine at home,
On this, my favorite dish.
Pâté-de-fois, and oysters, too,
Salads and sauces rich,
May tempt an epicure to roam,
But I had rather dine at home,
On this, my favorite dish.
In early days, the bell would sound,
Then olive plants would gather round,
As fast as they were able,
As soon as beans and corn were seen
Within the goodly-sized tureen,
In centre of the table.
Then olive plants would gather round,
As fast as they were able,
As soon as beans and corn were seen
Within the goodly-sized tureen,
In centre of the table.
We oft recall those happy times,
’Mid varied scenes, in distant climes,
And memory lingers round,
And brings to our enraptured view
That blessed home—the garden, too,
Where beans and corn abound.
’Mid varied scenes, in distant climes,
And memory lingers round,
And brings to our enraptured view
That blessed home—the garden, too,
Where beans and corn abound.
And beans and corn do still abound,
And succotash is often found
Within our early home;
With grateful hearts to God above,
We often gather there in love
Too soon again to roam.
And succotash is often found
Within our early home;
With grateful hearts to God above,
We often gather there in love
Too soon again to roam.
CLOSE OF THE DAY.
’Tis twilight, and the glorious sun
Hath left his place on high;
And evening shadows have begun
To steal along the sky.
Hath left his place on high;
And evening shadows have begun
To steal along the sky.
The swallow leaves the fields of air,
The busy bee the flower;
And farmers hasten home to share
The quiet of the hour.
The busy bee the flower;
And farmers hasten home to share
The quiet of the hour.
Tho’ small in size, the cricket tries
His voice so shrill and strong,
And many a frog, from pond and bog,
Sends forth its croaking song.
His voice so shrill and strong,
And many a frog, from pond and bog,
Sends forth its croaking song.
Now we will call the children dear
To rest their wearied limbs,
And, as the time for bed draws near,
We’ll hear their evening hymns.
To rest their wearied limbs,
And, as the time for bed draws near,
We’ll hear their evening hymns.
And then, Aunt Avis must not fail
To bring her stock of verse,
For in sweet rhyme a pleasant tale
She can for us rehearse.
To bring her stock of verse,
For in sweet rhyme a pleasant tale
She can for us rehearse.