m !©V!f©\ ^a3AINfl3WV ^odnvD-jo^ ^/ojnvjjo^ =*3 f J CO -< .^.OFCALIF0%, ^OFCAi!F0% y %a3AiNn-]\\v ^l-LIBRARY^ ^WMITCHO^ ^OFCALIFO/?^ ftAHvaan^ \WE;liNIVERS//, ^TJHDNV-SOl^ ^clOSANCELfj> o ^OFCAilFO/?^ ^3AiNa-3\\v > y '/HHAINfl 3^ ^UIBRARY^r ^t-tlBRARYQr ^OJIIVJ-JO^ ^f/OdllVJ-30^ ^EUNIVER% ^lOSANCElfjv, ^a3AlN:i3\^ ^0FCALIF(% ^OfCAUF(% vr vr ^Aavaan-^ waaii^ ^E-UNIVER% %0dllV3JO v £ S y Okmmi^ y ox\i o s2 . ^E UNIVERVa ^ - "^/.SMAINfHtW* ^OFCALIF(% FCALIF0% '/si w OF- \ ?A1 ; io d Hi: In the heart of an aged oak Once dwelt a bewitching fay. THE CHILDREN'S PARADISE BY KATHARINE B . Z E R E G A With III it s t r a t i <> u s BY LUCY G. MORSE G. P. NEW YORK PUTNAM'S SONS 182 nil 11 AVENUE 1877 Copyright, G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. 1876. £//o PREFACE. THE simple stories told in rhyme, contained in this volume are principally founded upon facts, and were recounted originally for the benefit of the houseful of boys and girls whose performances are portrayed in the ' Children's Paradise.' Their earnest approval has emboldened the author to submit them to the public > trusting that they will meet abroad with some slight share of the favor already accorded them at home. COOC/1G CONTENTS The Children's Paradise. Spring vs. Winter. The Dry ad One Hundred Dollars Reward. Death of the Mouse (Sequel to the The Forest Fairy. Baby Asleep. m \ i [nee dansante. The Coral Tree. 1)1 A k SANTA CLAUS. A Comical Come Down. . The < Origin of Rain . The Fairy Isle . The Blue Bird's Song, The Week Before Christmas Bonn) Blue-Bells. I HE MlDNIGH 1 MURD1 R. . foregoing) PAOH 3 io ?5 29 32 3+ 3S 40 47 49 52 60 61 67 69 73 , 75 VI Contents. The Bear and the Boy. . I'm: Bird's Farewell. The Lily and the Violet. Ai.mosi a Catastrophe. . The Hoy and the Butterfly The Qt\ psy Girl . Ihi. Welcome Visitor. Bertha's Bonbonniere. in i Old Max's Dream. Cinderella .... 86 8S 92 100 102 107 126 144 151 THE CHILDREN'S PARADISE. THERE is an island fair and green, No sweeter spot was ever seen, Where children play The livelong day, And gladly greet the sun's first ray, This isle which to the eastward li< Is called the Children's Paradise. A stately mansion built of stone In lordly grandeur stands alone < )n rising ''round, While all around Orchards and gardens fair abound, 4 The Children's Paradise. The lawn slopes clown on either side To meet the coy coquettish tide. And birds delicious songs there trill, The air with melody they fill, Till one would say That every day, They celebrate a feast so gay, At which fireflies assist at night And flood the lawn with radiance bright. Upon a strip of shining sand Each morn a busy blithesome band Display their skill With earnest will By building forts and castles, till The Children's Paradise. The rising tide warns them to fly And shelter seek in woods near by. And now in truth begins their fun, For, shielded from the noonday sun, Such pranks they play You'd really say Their senses all had flown away ; Wildly they scale the trees and rocks, Regardless of torn hats and frocks. Weary at last, and grown more meek, The poultry yard they gladly seek, And fowls they feed With divers seed, Just as they've eaten all they need, The farmer's wife protests in vain, She cannot stop them, that is plain. 6 The Children s Paradise. Now to the dairy each one flies, And there secures a glorious prize, A brimming glass They quickly pass, And Sfaviv drain it, lad and lass, While pans of cream so yellow, lo ! They leave as blue as indigo. The barn they visit now with joy, And there, each girl and romping boy Roll o'er and o'er The spacious floor, They laugh, they scream, they shout, they roar, And pelt each other with the hay, While burials take place each day. They scarce can spare the time to dine, Although their appetites are fine, The Children 's Paradise. When out again, Adown the lane They run with all their might and main, To see the horses, dogs, and cows, And watch the farmer as he ploughs. O'er roads so charming, oft they drive, And fill the wagon like a hive, 7 ne coachman kind, Time out of mind 1 [as loved them ; and can always find In any carriage, large or small, Room for the darlings, one and all. But when there comes a rainy day, 1 hese children all are forced to stav - In doors, and then A thousand men Make no more racket, even when 8 The Children s Paradise. On Gold or Stock Exchange they bawl Within a lofty frescoed hall. They chase through corridors so wide, Down the broad bannisters they slide, They skip, they prance, They sing, they dance, Deafen their parents, uncles, aunts, All of whom heave a thankful sigh, When bed-time hour draweth nigh. I think I'll scarcely need to tell, For by this time you'll know it well, What monarchs reign (Scarce state maintain) Upon this island of the main None but grandparents would allow Such escapades so oft, I trow. They chase through corridors so wide, Down the broad bannisters they The Children s Paradise. And now my children ; fare you well. Perhaps some day (no one can tell) If you are good, (That's understood) Well hie away to that green wood, And you will open wide your eyes To see the CHILDREN'S PARADISE. SPRING vs. WINTER. NOT long ago and gentle Spring- Lay sleeping in the shade, When o'er her charming countenance A wand'ring sunbeam played. Then suddenly, she started up Exclaiming in surprise, " I didn't dream it was so late, Dear me ! how Tempus flies ! v " But tardy though my 'wakening be, I'll let old Winter know His reign is over now, and he At once had better go." Spring- z>s. Winter. 1 1 " Strange stories I have heard of him Affecting genial ways, And striving to deceive mankind With counterfeit spring-days." " Till mortals grown too credulous Duped by unwonted wiles, Threw off their wintry garb, that they Might revel in his smiles,'' "Which straightway disappeared in frowns, While with demoniac glee He scourged the shuddering earth with storms. And lashed the maddened sea." " Such conduct is unworthy of My rough but hones', friend, I think that I'll suggest to him His ways he'd better mend." I2 The C/iildreiis Paradise. " I'll go and call upon him now, He don't suspect I'm near, And armed with sunbeams sure and swift, His wrath I need not fear." Her vernal robe's disordered folds She re-arranged with care, And twined a wreath of violets Amid her golden hair. Then over all she threw a veil Of softest silv'ry mist, Through this disguise, she gayly cried, " He'll never pierce, I wist." So with a gay and lightsome mien She tripped to Winter's door, And in a low, beseeching tone Admittance did implore. Spring vs. Winter. \ -> j " Come in," roared Winter, in a tone That had she been a mortal Would have transformed her into stone, Before the frozen portal. But fearlessly our saucy Spring, Entered the drear domain, While Winter from his icy throne Gazed on her with disdain. " What do you here, oh, maiden rash ? " He cried in stern surprise, In haste she flung the veil away And raised her beaming eyes, While from their sunny gleaming depths Shot forth two rays of Iigrht, Which straight transformed the gloomy hall Into a palace bright. I4 The Children s Paradise. Old Winter trembled on his throne Before the vision gay, Then slowly sinking 'neath her glance, He melted quite away. Old Wint. -I d on his iln Befoi the visioi , THE DRYAD. CLOSE, close by my window, A cherry tree stands, Its branches wave gently, Like beckoning hands. A clear little dryad There dwells in this tree, And she whispers, and whispers, Sweet stories to me. She's a gay little creature, All clad in bright green, A figure so dainty There never was seen, 1 6 The Children s Paradise. A rose-colored girdle Confines her small waist, Dame Nature has dressed her In exquisite taste. When first I beheld her, 'Twas one summer day, As propped by soft pillows, Aweary I lay. Ah ! sad seemed my destiny, Life, full of grief, When turning, I saw her Swine: forth on a leaf. And then, in response To my look of surprise, With a pitying glance Of her dark tender eyes, The Dryad. \ j She said, " I have watched you For many an hour, To solace your sorrow Perchance I've the power." " Thank you kindly,' 1 said I, For her clear cheery voice, Already had made My spirit rejoice. " But tell me, bright being, Pray how came you here ? For sure you were nurtured In some remote sphere!' 1 " Earth never has moulded So dainty a sprite ! " But she cried, laughing gayiv, " \ ou've not guessed aright, 1 8 The ChildrerCs Paradise. This tree and myself, To her owe our birth, We were both of us nourished, By kind Mother Earth." Enlightened at last, I cried, " Ah ! I see, You're a dryad, and so Belong to the tree. The fame of your race Has been chanted in story Till a halo surrounds you Of mythical glory." " But then I am certain The poets have told How dryads in oak trees Lived always of old, The Dryad. 19 So you'll understand then, It seems strange to me To see you ensconced here In this cherry tree." " Some doubt your existence For ages have flown, Since one of your race has . Conversed with our own. And so, little dryad, Oh ! tell me, I pray, Why should /, above all Be honored to-day ? " " I'll answer your question," She then made reply, • But promise me first, Whenever you sigh, 20 The Children's Paradise. You'll think of my story, Perhaps for awhile 'Twill lighten your sorrows, And cause you to smile." " The poets, (whom all of Our race do adore), Have rightly described us As living of yore In oak trees alone, but — I'm happy to say, With such stupid customs We've done quite away." 41 And know; that we never Our presence reveal, Save to do some good action, Some sorrow to heal. The Dryad. 21 Now many there are Scattered over the land, Who our language, alas ! Cannot understand." " 'Twoukl be of no use Before them to appear, They'd neither be able To see, or to hear. That's the reason so seldom You ever have heard, Of a dryad, with man Exchanging a word." "We're endowed with an instinct Unerring and true, As to whom we may speak, And I instantly knew 22 The Children's Paradise. When I saw your sad face That you'd comprehend My words, and would know They were those of a friend." " But now to my story — You'll laugh when you hear This morn I completed My one hundredth year. I don't doubt you think it A very strange thing, At my age, to be able To skip, dance and sing ! " " Shall I tell you the secret ? I banish dull Care, No matter what happens I never despair. The Dryad. 2 3 "Tis worrying makes Mortal's hair turn so gray, And from cheek and from lip Drives the roses away." " Bitter thoughts wring the life From each healthful limb, Plough wrinkles, and cause Brilliant eyes to grow dim. Believe what I tell you, It is a sure sign You'll never grow old, if You cease to repine." "You're thinking perhaps, 'Tis no merit in me Not to murmur, when Y Such a home as this tr< 24 The Childress Paradise. But within fifty years I've been known twice to sigh, And once, I was tempted To sit clown and cry." ;< Twice, the sun was so hot It dried up each cherry, And I couldn't be gay And light-hearted and merry, When I thought how the birds And the children would mourn The loss of the fruit, So I felt quite forlorn," " Till I thought to myself, How sinful to sisfh ! Next summer, I'm sure 'Twill not be so dry, The Dryad. 25 The fruit will taste better For such a long fast, Oh ! we will have many A royal repast ! ! " 'And just as I thought, It really proved so, Next summer's sun shone With a less fervid glow, The fruit in rich clusters Most temptingly hung ; The children rejoiced, and The birds gayly sung." " Then once, Madam Redbreast, (Who lives on yon bough.) I lad a loss, which I can't bear To think of, even now. 26 The Children s Paradise. One day not long since A cruel boy stole Her nest and five eees. Do you think he'd a soul ? " " Oh ! how my heart ached For the poor little Mother ! While I helped her to build A nest like the other. Now she's five pretty eggs, (You can see them through there) Like me, she's determined, She will not despair." " Perhaps you imagine I've nothing to do ? You'd change your opinion, If only you knew The Dryad. 2 7 How hard I'm at work In bright summer weather, Brushing bugs from the fruit, With a yellow-bird's feather." " And then when the cherries At last disappear, I keep the leaves fresh Till they're yellow and sere, So when Winter comes on I am ready to rest, Coiled up in the depths Of a robin's old nest." She ceased — and to my brow A flush of shame arose; As I thought how she had mourned, Only over others woes. 28 The CJiildrciis Paradise. " Thanks, thanks ! " I cried, " dear dryad, For the lesson you have given, 'Twill nerve me for life's trials And lead me home to heaven.' 1 Since then she often comes To cheer my weary days, And talks with me, or sings Delicious roundelays. And as fainter grow the notes Of some dreamy woodland air, I gently fall asleep, Within my easy chair. ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD. I "HERE is a naughty little mouse -*- That every single night Scampers about our nursery floor And gives us many a fright. Our nice wood-work he often gnaws, He stumbles and he squeaks, And oh ! I can't begin to tell The half of all his freaks. Now Marguerite (she is our nurse) A trap did once prepare, And then with nicely toasted cheese She furnished it with care, Then placed it gently on the hearth. Thinking he'd surely bite. o o The Chi Id re lis Paradise. Alas ! wise mousie's movements proved, She did not guess aright, For when the clouds of night dispersed And in the early morn, We looked to see the poor dead mouse Behold ! the cheese was gone. There stood the trap, quite safe and sound, But minus was the cheese, And mouse had walked off with his prize Not saying if you please. Amazed we looked around the room, Our cheeks were pale with fear, Then whispered softly, " can there be A fairy hidden here ? For who has ever known a mouse Do such a thing before ? But then, they say that fairies walk Upon this earth no more." One Hundred Dollars Reward. 31 What can we do ? pray some one tell, To rid our troubled house Of this most crafty, greedy, naughty, Noisy little mouse ? We've tried all sorts of traps, but they Are not of any use, So just at present there exists A most unwilling truce, So a reward we offer here To anyone who will, Find us a trap to catch a mouse That's very hard to kill" DEATH OF THE MOUSE. (sequel to the foregoing.) " r T > HE deed is done ! oh, the deed is done ! " -*- Poor Mousie at last is caught, That he'd never be really and truly killed, We really and truly thought. * Now Baby said, " he was a wise mouse," And that was the reason, perhaps For a long time he'd not once come near Our grand mechanical traps." But it seems he'd only grown tired Of feasting on toasted cheese, He'd eaten it often at parties, At breakfasts, dinners, and teas. Death of the Mouse. 33 Then too, although we ne'er knew it, What he delighted in most, I'm sure you will hardly believe it, Why it was hot buttered toast. So his palate proved traitor to him, For our nurse last night, instead Of baiting the trap with toasted cheese, Did substitute toasted bread. And there in the morning we found him, A-lying all stark and cold, Luckless victim to hot buttered toast, And now, my story is told." THE FOREST FAIRY. TN the heart of an aged oak ^ Once dwelt a bewitching fay. Who danced in the bright moonlight, And slumbered throughout the day. Her bed was of soft thistle clown, And her bath was a drop of dew, Her robe was a gossamer wing, And a tiny shell was her shoe. Full oft on a midsummer night, When high rode the silvery moon, From the topmost branch of a tree, She would sing an enchanting tune, Till the birdlings stirred in their nests, The Forest Fairy. 35 And the nightingale paused to hear A song, far surpassing her own, In notes so exquisitely clear. Then swinging from bough to bough, She would dance round each downy nest, And laugh at the wondering gaze Of blue-bird, or robin redbreast, Oft a squirrel so swift she would mount, And fast through the air as she flew, She would startle the woods far around, With a clear ringing hunter's halloo. When Jack Frost with icy finger, Turned the leaves from green to gold, Bidding birds not long to linger In their Northern nests so cold, Then across her shoulders shiv'ring, Caterpillar skins she'd throw, 36 The Children s Paradise. Thus protected, without quiv'ring She could brave a storm or snow. Often, down the ice-clad branches, While the stars shone, cold and bright, Swiftly as a vessel launches She would glide on wintry night, But when Spring returned, so blooming, Bringing back the birds and flowers, All her wonted airs resuming, Sprinkling buds with silv'ry showers, Then our fairy, sweet and sunny, Friends would welcome, old, and new, Spread for them a feast of honey, Drink their health in sparkling dew. Stories strange the birds related Of the lands far, far away, Till her woodland life she hated, And one bright autumnal day, The Foi'cst Fairy. 37 With her feathered friends departed For their home in Southern clime, Promising, before she started, She'd return by summer time. Years have passed, and the forest trees Have vanished from off the earth, Some formed the masts to stately ships, Or were burned on the glowing hearth. Where fountains fall, within a park The ancient oak is standing, still, The fairy never has returned, Alas ! I fear she never will. BABY ASLEEP. T^OLDED the tiny hands, -*- As if in prayer, While myriad angel bands Guard the child fair. Soft swells the fragrant breath, Fresh as a rose, Proving it is not death, Hushed in repose. Mark how the rosy flush O'er his cheek creeps, Bright as Aurora's blush, Gently ! he sleeps. Baby Asleep. 39 Then let the zephyrs fan His downy nest, What can be sweeter than Baby at rest? LA MATINEE DANSANTE. "|\ /TISS ISABELLE Z— -L* A. Is a doll, Ires joiie, Three feet is her wonderful height, Complexion bien clair, Chatain dore, her hair, Her beautiful eyes, brown and bright. • As she's really a Belle, I thought T would tell Of a party she gave not long since, It was quite recherche, And indeed! I might say Grand enough for a duke or a prince. La Matinee Dansante. 41 She received in pure white, Which by brilliant gas light Became her in truth ! a mervcilk, Her ornaments, pearls ; Hair, in puffs and long curls, Skirt en train and corsage, decollette. La blonde Violette, (Mamma's precious pet,) Made a charming appearance, 'tis true. She was sweetly arrayed In a dress that was made Of black lace, over Indienne blue. Next came Miss Louise In black tittle and cerise Dotted over with tiny gold stars, 42 The Children 's Paradise. Her coiffure elegante Was the taste of her tante But her toilette, her fond grandmamma's. Miss Lily so fair With long flaxen hair, Wore a bright yellow poult de sole waist, With a skirt of de laine Made en demi train, Her dearest friends murmured, what taste ! ! • A bright demoiselle Was at first quite a belle, Although she appeared known by none, Till at last it came out With an ill suppressed shout. She was Suzanne, the children's French bonne! If La Matinee Dansante. 43 Then there was Miss West Most gorgeously drest, In black silk, trimmed with lovely duchesse, Her manners, I know, Were not quite comme il faut As all by and by will confess. You will laugh when you hear The refreshments, I fear, But the chef was a young amateur And 'twas his first essaz, So sincerely I pray Such mistakes not again will occur. The chief dish was bouillon, Favored by the haut to//, But 'twas made of pink candy and water. 44 The Children 's Paradise. And though good the intent, One would think the cook meant The poor dolls' digestions to slaughter. For 'twas colored with Green As could plainly be seen Of a bright, intense arsenic hue, And the punch was so strong That 'twas not very long, Ere to Charlotte West's head the fumes flew And oh ! shocking to tell, From the sofa she fell, Then rising, confused all the dancers, By plunging about, Now in and now out, Partnerless in the midst of the Lancers. La Matinee Dansante. 45 A noise in the hall Interrupted the ball, 'Twas the chef who demanded entree, He had drunk his own punch By way of a lunch, And alas! it had made him quite gay. When Miss West he espied, He strode to her side, And requested her hand for the waltz, Then they capered away, 'Twas as good as a play, Poor Isabelle called for her salts. Quite shocked was each guest Thu' they all strove their best To conceal from Miss Belle their disdain. 46 The Childrefis Paradise. While the butler so stout, Carried Charlotte West out, Vowing punch she would ne'er touch again. This broke up the fete, So savinGf, " 'twas late," Each guest made a hasty adieu, Believe me, my friends While this history ends Every word I have told you is true. THE CORAL TREE. WHERE sparkling gems and rare, Beneath the blue waves lie, An insect toils with care, While centuries roll by, Striving its mission to fulfill By working out its Master's will. Slowly, the branching tree O'er ocean's depths doth rise, Soon, on the broad blue sea A fruitful islet lies, While brilliant birds and flowers find n Upon its peaceful fragrant breast. 48 The Children's Paradise. Thus, like the insect small, Unwav'ring in its zeal, Should we, with patience toil, Constant for others' weal, Sure that the Lord at length will bless, Our faithful efforts with success. DEAR SANTA CLAUS. PERHAPS you'll th'ink it strange that I should ever dare to write What I would like for Christmas, but I think 'tis more polite Than shouting up the chimney, as I've heard that others do, I'm almost sure, that you are of the same opin- ion too. You've always pleased me very much, in every- thing you've brought, It really seemed as if you knew of what I always thought, But lest there should be some mistake, this time I'll write it here 3 50 The Children's Paradise. And then there need not be upon the subject any fear. I want a pair of pigeons, oh ! very much indeed ! And please to bring them in a cage, with cups all full of seed. One I would like of snowy white, the other grey (I think,) But both their little eves and feet must be the brightest pink. About the cage, of course you know which kind they will require, And whether 'twould be better, if 'twere wooden or of wire, Such details I won't mention, as my time 'twould only waste, And you have always proved yourself a gentle- man of taste. Dear Santa Clans. 51 My sister wants a pretty doll with wardrobe quite complete, From latest style of bonnet, clown to shoes and stockings neat. As I will have two pigeons, I think I'll give her one, For if she shares them with me, we'll have so much more fun. Now if you'll only bring them, I'll very grateful be, And prove my thanks by being good, Yours truly, Dickie Z. A COMICAL COME-DOWN. /^VNE bright midsummer afternoon, ^-^ A party sallied forth In quest of some adventure ; Steering their barks due north. As gayly sailed they onward, A cave they did espv, Perched on a mountain's dizzy height That seemed to touch the sky. Said one, a youth, who did escort The gay and errant fair, " To climb yon steep and towering cliff Which one of you will dare ? " A Comical Come-Down. 5^ j Then out spake all with one accord, " Lead on, we each will follow, Those rocky cliffs we do disdain, We'll skim them like a swallow." The boat is moored, the party starts, The brave youth heads the van, (Clasped in his arms, an infant boy) He seemed almost a man. Their dauntless spirits urge them on, Although each fair one feels, It is no joke to clamber up Steep mountains, in French heels. Shines down on each devoted head The cruel piercing sun, The earth gives way, the briars rend, They find it is no fun. 54 The Children's Paradise. Now as they faint and fainter grow, A dreadful truth doth dawn Upon each mind, causing them all Their luckless fate to mourn. For — while the placid lake recedes Matters are not much mended, The more they climb, the more they seem " 'Twixt heaven and earth suspended." And like an ignis fatuus The cruel cave doth fly, For while they climb, it really seems Retreating toward the sky. '» At last, spoke one, " let's all return, For though we climb forever, We ne'er will reach yon cave though each With all her might endeavor." A Comical Come-Down. 55 Now all concurred in this belief And ail approved the motion, But how they should descend the hill They had, alas ! no notion. The gallant youth at length stood forth, "Now each shall see,' 1 he said, The question quickly solved, or else My name, it isn't Fred." With his right hand he grasped the child And held him high in air, Then like a deer he bounded down The rocks so steep and bare. Then horror froze the lips of these Who did this sight behold, Ne'er had they seen a deed performed So fearful and so bold. 56 The Children s Paradise. " Come on," there cried a voice below, " 'Tis nothing when you've done it, The only trouble now with you Is, that you've not begun it." " He lives," the startled sister shrieked, "He lives, I must embrace The precious babe, alas ! I feared No more I'd see his face." Then down the hill she quickly fled Love nerved her trembling hands To grasp the trees to break her fall Till on the shore she stands. To follow her the others strove, But ah ! they strove in vain, 1 For coward Fear, with iron grip, Their efforts did retain. A Comical Come-Down. 57 Ll Let's join our hands, and close our eyes," One of the party cried, " And at a given signal rush Adown the mountain side." " 'Twere better far to perish thus, Than cowardly to linger, And be a mark in future years For every scornful finger." They joined their hands, they closed their eyes, Then made one Gallant dash, While 'round them, like the " Light Brigade," They heard a constant crash. Rocks, roots, and branches, all gave way Before this charge so bold, And downward with a deafening roar In swift succession rolled. 58 The Children s Paradise. Yet paused they not for stock or stone In this their mad career, Nor conscious seem that those they've left " Are maddening- in the rear. 1 ' Fragments °f lace, and tresses fair Are fluttering in the wind, From every bush, for all have left A souvenir behind. There intervened a thicket dense ; The hats — oh ! where were they ? Ask of the thorns, that ruthlessly Have torn them all away. With sash and scarf and streamer brave That well had borne their part, But the staunchest things that perished there Were those coaching chapeaux smart. Yet paused they not for stock or .stone In their mad career. A Comical Come-Down. 59 Breathless, at last they reach the goal, Some lame, some bruised and sore, Gladly they leap into their boats And push them from the shore. And so doth end my story sad, The moral's here, beside, Ne'er boast that you can do a thins:, Until at least yoiCve tried. THE ORIGIN OF RAIN. \\ 7"HEN banished from the garden fair, * * Our parents wound their way. Oppressed with grief, and worn with care, They knelt them down to pray. Pure anerels then, from heaven's height The sorrowing ones surveyed, And weeping vowed, those beings bright, They would their efforts aid. Thus ever hov'ring o'er us all, They watch and ward do keep, And when the pearly rain drops fall, Know then — the angels weep. THE FAIRY ISLE. A FAR on an ocean unknown, ■*- *- In a century long gone by, Where the sun's rays brilliantly shone, Nor tempest obscured the sky, There lay like an emerald rare In a setting of pearly foam, An island enchantingly fair Where fairies had made their home. Oh ! from many a distant land Had they wandered to this retreat, Now a loving; united band Lived they ever in concord sweet, 62 The Children s Paradise. For the spirits which ruled in the air And that guided each elfin mind, Were Harmony gentle and fair, And Justice, firm ever yet kind. But ah ! in each Eden there lurks A serpent, and so near the isle Dwelt a demon whose horrible works Were dreaded for many a mile. His power was great and all knew If once he set foot on the shore, Alas ! it was only too true That Peace they would know nevermore. But if they ne'er strayed from the isle, Nor turned to his counsels an ear, Unharmed they securely could smile, And know they had nothing to fear, The Fairy Isle. 63 For Discord was powerless when They turned from his presence to fly, 'Twas but when they hearkened that then Condemned every fairy must die. One starry summer eve When the moon shone clearly down, The fays their queen did weave A flowery dew-decked crown. And on her pearly brow As 'twas placed with loving care, They sang neath leafy bough A soft melodious air. " Oh ! bright as the sun Thou beauteous one 64 The Children's Paradise. Is thy heavenly glance, Ah ! prithee then smile And the hours beguile As round thee we dance." Scarce had the words been sung, When behold a fearful cry Throughout the island rung, And re-echoed to the sky. Terror turned each cheek pale, And blanched the lips of each fay, Silence reigned in the vale No longer was heard the lav. Alas ! now sounds of strife Showed what the shriek portended, All knew their peaceful life Unhappily was ended, The Fairy Isle. 65 For Discord hovering near Had captured some of their band, And his awful presence so drear Pervaded the happy land. The isle rocked to and fro, The moon withdrew her light, And all was grief and woe, Where once it was gay and bright, Down sank they 'neath the wave, While a low mournful wail Echoed through coral cave, Swept by on the passing gale. Soft zephyrs breathe no more In the island bleak and bare, Fierce winds sweep o'er the shore And all is dreary there, 66 The Children's Paradise. Where Discord dread holds sway The sun will never smile. Uncheered by moonlit ray Is now the fairy isle. THE BLUE BIRD'S SONG. I CO ME fiom a distant sunny land Where zephyrs ever blow, And flowers bloom, an unbroken band Untouched by frost or snow. Where in forests, ever with verdure crowned The wild birds chant their lay, Now in liquid notes, now a joyous round, Throughout the livelong day. Where pendent upon the lofty trees Hang fruits, all mellow and sweet, Which are tossed afar by the laughing breeze, To beauteous maidens' feet. 68 The Children s Paradise. Where brooklets gay wind their onward way, With soft melodious flow, Reflecting the image of every ray In dimples that come and go. But dearly I loved my Northern home, Aye, better than words can say, Although dread winter had bidden me roam Full many a long, long day. So once again in the rippling brook I laved my plumage blue, Then a joyful and long farewell I took And back to the North I flew. Now my heart bounds high with joy to see My friends of the year before, Happy, thrice happy indeed, would I be Could I leave them nevermore. THE WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS. /^HRISTMAS is a glorious time, ^ — ' Honored oft in prose and rhyme; But no poet old or young Praises of the week has suns & That precedes the happy day Set apart for praise and play. Too numerous to all narrate Some of its pleasures I'll relate. Quickly running to and fro Through the crowded streets we go ; jo The Children's Paradise. Now in this store, now in that, Choosing colors for a mat. Spending all our precious store, Wishing that we had some more. Buying toys of every kind To amuse the infant mind. Woolly lamb, and life-like cow, Dogs, that plainly say, " bow-wow." Talking dolls, and dollies dancing, Dolls on horses gayly prancing. Then our parcels home we take, But with inward fear we quake Lest some bright inquiring eye Bundles stray perchance espy. The Week Before Christmas. 71 Faces gay and faces serious, Open smiles, and smiles mysterious Greet us now on every side, Doors no longer open wide. Every one her needle plies While each happy hour flies ; Words like these are often heard From each little sewing-bird. ' Do you think Aunt Mary knows What I'm making for her, Rose ? ' ' Oh ! how pleased dear Charlie '11 be, When these slippers he will see ! " Then the dressing of the Tree, Oh ! delightful mystery ! 72 The Children s Paradise. Box and bundle every size To bewilder infant eyes ; In the parlor vanish all, Room forbid to children small. Expectation on tip-toe Through the week we gayly go. And as Christmas Eve draws near Parents, friends and children dear, Gleeful girl and boisterous boy With their hearts brimful of joy, Cheerily in chorus chime, " We have had a happy time ! " BONNY BLUE-BELLS. i N shady nooks By running brooks, Half hid in mossv dells, Sweet flowers grow, All children know, The bonny bright blue-bells. On mountains hisfh Beneath a sky Of the same azure hue, Each year they spring And gayly ring, Those bonny bells so blue. When savage storms Assail their forms 74 The Children's Paradise. The wind their death foretells, But though they're small They never fall, Those bonny brave blue-bells. May they inspire Our souls to higher Aims than they ever knew, Ere 'tis too late Let's imitate Those bonny bells so blue. When storms so dread Rage overhead, And loud the tempest swells, Though children frail We'll never quail Like bonny brave blue-bells. THE MIDNIGHT MURDER. T "\ /ITHIN a fine farm-yard * * Lived, not long ago, A hen and three chickens With feathers like snow. They were graceful and pretty, And tidy, and neat, From the crown of their heads To the soles of their feet. To see them together In truth was a sight, In which the good farmer Did greatly delight. 76 The Children* s Paradise. No fowl in the farm-yard, Would ever molest, Nor snatch e'en a crumb, from This family blest. Each day they would wander In search of their food, Which often they shared with A ravenous brood. At night in a cottage, Securely they'd dream, Nor wake from their slumbers Till morning's first beam. One evening, while feasting On supper of bread, The youngest chick turned To her mother, and said, The Midnight Murder. 77 " Don't you think that to-night We might roost in that tree ? Oh ! if you would let us J How happy I'd be ! ,1 " You know, my dear daughter," The mother replied, " No wish of your heart have I ever denied. But although your mind on This plan appears bent, I fear that I really Can never consent." " I'm told that fierce creatures This region infest, And we will be safer At home in our nest. 78 The Children s Paradise. Just think ! my own darling How dreadful 'twould be, Should an enemy lie Concealed in that tree ! " To which the young chicken Replied, " It's no use ! ! ! I see you've been talking With that stupid goose. She's always a story Absurd and untrue, And some silly notion Has given to you." " I'm sure there's no danger Up there on that bough, And Pm going to sleep there To-night, anyhow, Then calling her daughters Around her she chose A wide-spreading bough For their place of repose. The Midnight Murder. 79 For if I'm a chicken I'm not chicken-hearted.' 1 '' Then off to the tree Like lightning she darted. Of course, the poor mother Flew after her child, 'Twixt sorrow and terror She almost was wild. When panting she reached her She touchingly said, " By your side is my place. Where you sleep is my bed." Then calling her daughters Around her, she chose A wide-spreading bough, For their place of repose, 8o The Childreus Paradise. But many an hour Passed wearily by, Ere one of the family Closed e'en an eye. 'Twas midnight — and silence Reigned over the farm, And the sleep of the poultry Was peaceful and calm. When — all of a sudden 1 A wild fearful scream Awakened each sleeper, Dissolved every dream. The farmer's wife quickly Rose up in her bed, " Such shrieks," she exclaimed, " Would awaken the dead. The Midnight Murder. 81 *& Is that our white hen? And where can she be ? The sound seems to come from The old apple tree." " I hope the poor creature Has not roosted there, For a horrid old rat, Has made it his lair. He can't injure her But her chickens he might, Poor thing! she must be In a terrible fright." A^ain there resounded Throughout the still air, The poor bereaved mother's Shrill shrieks of despair. 4* 82 The Children s Paradise. Alas ! she could do naught But loudly bewail, Her strength 'gainst a fierce rat's Could nothing prevail. And so the young chicken Was dragged to her fate, Repenting her conduct When it was too late. I trust, my dear children, This history may Prove a warning to those Whdd fain disobey. THE BEAR AND THE BOY. /^~\N a mountain-top, near a hotel stood ^— ^ A bear, which was caught in a neigh- bVing wood. Tied fast to a tree in mild or fierce weather, He only could move the length of his tether. Oft silent and sad, he deeply did mourn When he thought of his friends from whom he'd been torn, And heartily longed once again for a chance To indulge, as of old in his favorite dance. As he mused o'er his woes, he made up his mind I le'd have his revenge, the first chance he could find. 84 The Children s Paradise. So he bided his time till one luckless day A little boy came out with Bruin to play. At first he was timid, and dared not draw near, Till at length, well assured he had nothing to fear, He went up to Bruin and patted his head, " Poor bear ! I am sure he won't hurt me," he said. Ah ! sadly mistaken was our little boy, And he learned when too late, bears he should not annoy. For straight on his feet Bruin rose from the ground, And with his fore-paws clasped him tightly around, While with a fierce grin, the bear glared in his face. Close and closer became his horrid embrace. The Dear and the Boy. 85 Then loudly, for aid, did our little friend cry, If not quickly released, he surely would die. Help happily came, ere he quite lost his breath, Or he'd really have died a most horrible death. This teaches us all that we never should dare No matter how gentle he seem, touch a bear. THE BIRD'S FAREWELL. f" N a forest, where the lofty trees •*- Adorned with foliage gay, Were merrily tossed, by the soft breeze Afar, in joyous play, Rung the rich notes of many a bird That warbled a blithesome son«". No sweeter notes had ever been heard That happy summer long. For they were singing a long farewell, Were bidding an adieu, To each dancing brook ; each mossy dell, Ere to the South they flew. The Bird's Farewell. 87 Swallow and blue-bird, linnet and jay, The robin and meek dove, Joined in the carol, that bright, bright day, And poured forth sounds of love. And now they've plumed them for their long flight, Far to a lovelier land, While the cheerful rays of the sun shine bright On that happy, happy band. But one remains — 'tis the plaintive thrush, To sing of their pleasures past, Just ready to fly from yon low bush, She trills her song, 'tis the last. THE LILY AND THE VIOLET. \ LITTLE child one morning strayed *■ *- Into a garden wide, And where a fountain blithely played Thither she quickly hied. Then bending o'er the waters clear She laved her tiny hands, And watched the fish, now far, now near, Dart o'er the golden sands. While thus engaged, a gentle voice She heard, distinct though low, Bidding another to rejoice Whose accents were of woe. The Lily and the Violet. 89 She turned, and in the broad sunlight Beheld a violet, And a lily fair, whose petals white With tears of dew were wet. " Cheer up," the first voice gently said, " And drive those tears away, Droop not so low that lovely head, Nor sigh the livelong day/' « Alas ! " the lily made reply, " I cannot happy be, So much I fear to fade and die, Life has no joys for me ! ! " ■ Life has no joys ! ! oh ! Lily dear ! Say not those words again, Call not the earth a desert drear All full of grief and pain, 9