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WORK AND PLAY 
 
 A CHILDREN'S BOOK FOR SCHOOL 
 AND HOME 
 
 IN TWO PARTS. 
 
 Part I. 
 MOTION EXERCISES, GAMES, RHYMES, 
 
 FOR 
 
 KINDERGARTENS AND PRIMARY SCHOOLS 
 
 Part II. 
 GmR:^I)ES, PANTOMIMES, 
 
 TABLEAUX, DIALOGUES, RECITATIOm 
 for 
 
 EXHIBITIONS AND THE HOME CIRCLE 
 
 By MARY J. JACQUES. 
 
 Chicago: ' :;oJ^^?.'hi'^ A 
 
 T-S-DENISON. ^c.'\'^^-^ 
 
-c.^ 
 
 BY 
 
 T. S. DENISON. 
 
NOTE TO TEACHERS. 
 
 With some of the exercises of Part I directions have 
 been given for making them effective, but more have 
 been left to be used by the teacher in whatever way 
 may seem best suited to the pupils, and to circum- 
 stances. Many of the pieces, being written in metres 
 to be found in any juvenile singing book, can be sung 
 if desirable. 
 
 It will be the teacher's province to enforce by en- 
 largements, explanations and questions the little les- 
 sons that these exercises are intended to convey. 
 
5 A .2. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Alphabet, The Conjuror 60 
 
 Birds' Neats 17 
 
 Daddy Longlegs' Donation Party 38 
 
 Food Plants. 51 
 
 FouT-Fonted Housekeepers 45 
 
 Good Fairy Patience 54 
 
 Great- Grandfather's Coat 27 1 
 
 How the Wild Flowers Come 5G 
 
 Mathematical Pie and Cake 43 
 
 Mr. Hop Toad 21 
 
 Muscles and Nerves 15 
 
 Roman Letters 16 
 
 The Adjectives 23 
 
 The' Continent 33 
 
 The Flower 43 
 
 The Heart and the Blood 47 
 
 The History of the Frog 11 
 
 The Little Spring 8 
 
 The Noun Game. . . 13 
 
 The Peacock 9 
 
 The Pleasant Way ^ 15 
 
 The Rain 14 
 
 The Rainbow 40 
 
 The Races , 19 
 
 The Senses 49 
 
 The Sun 10 
 
 The Sun, the Earth and the Moon . . 35 
 
 The Three Kingdoms 48 
 
 Th e Trees 24 
 
 The Verb 37 
 
 The Wind 32 
 
 The Zones 21 
 
 Twol'sare2 9 
 
 What the Fishes Think 52 
 
 Work and Play 7 
 
CONTENTS. 
 CHARADES. 
 
 Aladdin 119 
 
 Ambuscade 121 
 
 Bandage 65 
 
 Candidates 100 
 
 Denmark 114 
 
 Furbelow 112 
 
 Hammock 74 
 
 Ransack 82 
 
 Somersaults ; 97 
 
 Spartan 125 
 
 PANTOMIMES. 
 
 Better Never than Late 130 
 
 Enough Is as Good as a Feast 96 
 
 It Never Rains but it Pours 78 
 
 Winter and Spring 63 
 
 TABLEAUX. 
 
 A Dress Parade 95 
 
 A Morning Call 94 
 
 Christmas Eve and Morning 69 
 
 Plessures of Imagiaation 81 
 
 Tastes Diifer 118 
 
 The Queen of The May and Her Court : 97 
 
 The Visit of The School Committee 98 
 
 Two Heads are Better than One 105 
 
 DIALOGUES AND RECITATIONS. 
 
 Air Castles 99 
 
 Family Cares 69 
 
 Grandfather and Billy 79 
 
 Grandma 110 
 
 Guilty? Or Not Guilty 130 
 
 Inquiring Friends 128 
 
 Mother Fairy 85 
 
 Mother Goose and Her Critics 106 
 
 Philosophy 119 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 r-^sai- 1. 
 
 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 There's one unfailing way 
 
 To make a cheerful day, 
 Now mind j'-ou don't forget the rule, 
 
 'Tis : Work before you play. 
 
 There's nothing sweetens fun 
 
 Like little tasks well done; 
 So never try to steal your play 
 
 Before your work's begun. 
 
 There isn't one too small, 
 
 A duty comes to all; 
 And who's more wretched than the shirk 
 
 Who will not heed its call. 
 
 He says, "Oh! what's the use?" 
 He squirms and makes excuse; 
 
 He's tir^d, he's sick, he's lost his book, — 
 Let him grow up a goose! 
 
AVORK AND PLAY. 
 
 When little scholars strive. 
 
 Like honey bees in hive, 
 Their minds with precious things to store, 
 
 'Tis then the school's alive. 
 
 When little hands and feet 
 
 The mother's bidding meet 
 With glad and swift obedience, 
 
 'Tis then that home is sweet. 
 
 So don't forget the way 
 
 To make a cheerful day; 
 Try, every one of you, this rule, 
 
 Work, work before you play. 
 
 THE LITTLE SPRING. 
 
 fThis may be made a marching exercise led by the smallest 
 ^ild in the school, reciting or singing the first line, the other 
 Afldrcn gradually joining according to their size, till all 
 BBile in the river lines. Then all disperse to their seats as the 
 Isst two lines are recited. Each stanza may be repeated if 
 iesirable.] 
 
 The little spring comes bubbling up. 
 
 Bubbling up, bubbling up; 
 It overflows its mossy cup. 
 
 And then the brook says, "Come away! 
 
 Come away! come away! 
 Far down the sunny fields we'll stray." 
 
 The brook runs on and stronger grows, 
 
 Stronger grows, stronger grows; 
 A full and steady creek it flows. 
 
WORlv AND PLAY. 
 
 Still on, a river broad and deep, 
 
 Broad and deep, broad and deep, 
 Where white winged vessels proudly sweep. 
 
 Spriu;T, brook, creek, river, great and small. 
 The mighty ocean swallows all. 
 
 MR. PEACOCK. 
 
 See proud Mr. l*eacock display his rich train. 
 For do not fine feathers make a fine bird? 
 Alas! Can he fly over wood, stream, and plain? 
 And his horrible voice have you ever heard? 
 Then his temper is bad; so it's all a mistake 
 To think that fine feathers a fine bird will make. 
 
 TWO VS ARE 2. 
 
 Two I's are 2, 
 What would you do 
 If you had but one shoe? 
 
 Two2'sare 4, 
 And that's two more, 
 Nice red stockings right out of the store. 
 
 Two 3's are 6, 
 Two 3'sare 6, 
 Be careful and never your numbers mix. 
 
10 AVOKK AND PLAY. 
 
 Two 4's are 8, 
 Now, flaxen pate, 
 Let 's see you count your fingers straight. 
 
 Two 5's are 10, 
 Now count again ; 
 Eight little fingers, two thumbs, nine, ten. 
 
 THE SUN. 
 
 Good morning. Sun, 
 What have you done, 
 Where have you been since we said Good-night? 
 
 "What have I done?" 
 
 Echoes the sun, 
 " Where have I been with my warmth and light? 
 
 I went out West, 
 
 And sent to rest 
 Thousands of tired little boys and girls. 
 
 Then out of the sea 
 
 I peeped with glee 
 (How can I stop while this round earth whirls?) 
 
 At Chun Wan Ling 
 
 And Sly Ping Wing, 
 You know, — where the fragrant tea-leaf grows. 
 
 I sent the gleams 
 
 Of morning beams 
 To the top of Himalaya's snows. 
 
 Coflfee and rice. 
 
 Pepper and spice 
 Nodded and smiled as I passed their way. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 11 
 
 With bloom and song, 
 
 Your whole night long, 
 The Old World joyed in its sunny day. 
 
 Now when you see 
 
 A menagerie, 
 Just think, I visit them all at home.' 
 
 Queer kangaroos. 
 
 Apes, cockatoos, 
 Elephants, tigers, wherever they roam. 
 
 Islands and towns, 
 
 Deserts and downs 
 Watch for the dawn of ray cheering face. 
 
 Nothing I miss, 
 
 My life-giving kiss 
 Touches the lowliest, meanest place." 
 
 O welcome Sun! 
 How much you've done, 
 H'^wfar you've been since we said, "Good-night!" 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE FROG. 
 
 Polly- wog,polly-wog. 
 Hear the history of the frog. 
 
 Down in the bottom of the pond. 
 The first month of the spring, 
 
 A thousand eggs sink out of sight; 
 When will they jump and sing? 
 
 /They will not stay in the depths so cold, 
 Not they! they grow and grow, 
 
IS WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Till to the top they rise at last, 
 And then the next they know 
 
 Out peeps a little tadpole's tail. 
 
 In three weeks, no more eggs; 
 In six weeks after this, ray dears, 
 
 Each boasts a pair of legs. 
 
 In two weeks more another pair, 
 First hind legs, and then fore. 
 
 To make a perfect poUy-wog, 
 What can we ask for more? 
 
 But froggy does with something less, 
 Heigho! off drops his tail I 
 
 His appetite for water plants 
 Just now begins to fail. 
 
 He snaps at hapless worms and bugs. 
 He will not stay at home. 
 
 For when the month of August comes 
 Our frog begins to roam. 
 
 But winter finds him buried snug, 
 Beside some brook or spring. 
 
 And April's sun will thaw him out, 
 All merrily to sing. 
 
 Polly- wog, polly-wog, 
 "What a history has the frog! 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 13 
 
 THE NOUN GAME. 
 
 [The children should be encouraged to find as many ad- 
 ditional names as possible. This ma3'^ be done by "taking 
 sides," or by dropping from the whole number each one who 
 gives a wrong word, or one that has been given before, those 
 who hold out longest winning the game.] 
 
 Of all the funny little games, 
 
 There's one that's played with only names, 
 Now look about and let us see 
 
 How many names you'll find for me. 
 Chair, table, blackboard, window, door, 
 
 Book, picture, apron, now find more. 
 
 Nouns are names, nouns are names, 
 Of all the funny little games. 
 
 THE RAIN. 
 
 The south wind is blowing, 
 And we shall have rain. 
 
 Hark! hark! there it patters 
 On shutter and pane. 
 
 Come, come now, no pouting 
 Because you are housed, 
 
 111 humor 's a tempest 
 That must not be roused. 
 
14 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 But how came the water 
 Way up in the sky? 
 
 Now isn't it funny 
 If water can fly? 
 
 It flies from the ocean, 
 And rivers, and lakes, 
 
 Ah! no, you can't see it, 
 A sly way it takes. 
 
 It rises from gardens. 
 
 From meadows and fields. 
 
 For every green leaflet 
 Its tiny globe yields. 
 
 It rises from creatures 
 That breathe in the air; 
 
 This strange flight of moisture 
 Goes on everywhere. 
 
 Why doesn't it stay there? 
 
 It catches a chill. 
 The globules all shiver 
 
 And, do what they will, 
 
 They soon must come tumbling 
 As larger they grow; 
 
 And when Jack Frost nips them. 
 Behold ! we have snow. 
 
WORK AND PLA.Y. 15 
 
 THE PLEASANT WAY. 
 
 Which would you rather see, 
 
 A face all full of glee, 
 Or a mouth drawn down, 
 
 And a dreadful frown? 
 Which would you rather see? 
 
 Which would you rather be. 
 
 Full oif all innocent glee, 
 Gentle, and kind, and free, 
 
 Or impatient and glum. 
 Discontented and mum? 
 
 Which would you rather be? 
 
 If you prefer the pleasant way. 
 
 There are but two small words to say, 
 
 Love and Obey, Love and Obey; 
 That is the only pleasant way. 
 
 MUSCLES AND NERVES. 
 
 [This exercise should begin with the children in their seats 
 At "all stiff and still," they should hold their hands rigid 
 before them; at "every beck of the will," move the fingers 
 rapidly. Then close the eyes at "without sound or sight," 
 and at "round about wind," the}'^ should be so arranged that 
 the tallest are in the center of the coil, and the smallest out- 
 side. The rest explains itself.] 
 
 What if we never could hop, skip, and run? 
 How in the world should we have any fun? 
 What if our fingers were all stiflp and still, 
 
16 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 And Avould not obey every beck of our will? 
 
 Nerves and muscles, muscle and nerve, 
 
 The mind is the master they're bound to serve. 
 
 How much the mind tells the quick nerves to say, 
 
 How many muscles they put into play. 
 
 Rise from your seats and step out on the floor, 
 
 Throw back your shoulders, and look straight before, 
 
 Nerves and muscles, muscle and nerve, 
 
 The mind is the master they're bound to serve. 
 
 Forward three steps, one to left, one to right. 
 Backward on tiptoe without sound or sight, 
 Open your eyes now, and turn all about, 
 Throw up your arms with a good ringing shout; 
 Nerves and muscles, muscle and nerve, 
 The mind is the master they're bound to serve. 
 
 Hop on one foot with arms folded behind, 
 Join hands, make a line, and round about wind, 
 Presto! unwind! and with pattering feet 
 See that no one is the last in his seat! 
 Nerves and muscles, muscle and nerve, 
 The mind is the master they're bound to serve. 
 
 ROMAN LETTERS. 
 
 I, V, X, L, M, D, C, 
 
 Come and learn their use with me. 
 
 One I one, and two II's two, 
 One for me and one for you. 
 Three Hi's three and IV four, 
 Another day we'll learn some more. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 17 
 
 V for five and VI six, 
 
 Half way round the clock that ticks, 
 
 VII for seven must be, 
 
 VIII means five and three. 
 
 IX nine and X for ten, 
 Then take X and I again, 
 That's eleven; and XII 
 
 Is twelve; and so we're very wise. 
 
 Now, I wonder who will tell 
 All about M, D, C, L? 
 
 BIRDS' NESTS. 
 
 When the tired and drowsy children 
 Shut their merry eyes at night. 
 
 Folded safe in crib and cradle 
 Till the morning's pleasant light. 
 
 Where do sleepy little birdlings 
 Find their shelter and their rest? 
 
 Every sleepy little birdling 
 Has his own nice home and nest. 
 
 Robin Redbreast, saucy fellow, 
 Has a snuggery low and sly. 
 
 Made of leaves, and clay, and feathers 
 Hidden from the passer by. 
 
18 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 In the eaves the chirping Sparrow 
 Makes a chamber to her mind, 
 
 Sticks, and twigs, and bits of soff. things 
 Wonderfully intertwined. 
 
 But, I must say, Mrs. Swallow 
 
 Shows, sometimes, a taste too queer, 
 
 Keeping house down in a chimney 
 Can't be very nice, I fear. 
 
 Crested Wren and Yellow Goldfinch 
 Rock to sleep in great tall trees, 
 
 With the stars above them blinking, 
 Lulled and fanned by every breeze. 
 
 Bob White lodges in a grain field, — 
 Take cold sleeping on the ground? 
 
 Not he! warm and sweet his slumbers. 
 While the wheat heads nod around. 
 
 Humming Birds, the darling beauties! 
 
 Cuddle in the littlest nest. 
 Two the tiny, tiniest babies 
 
 Sheltered by the mother's breast. 
 
 Snipe and Rail sleep in the marshes, 
 Do you know that birds make boats 
 
 Something like the ark of Moses? 
 True enough, the Rail's nest floats. 
 
 Tap, tap. Woodpecker goes prying 
 All day, up and down the tree; 
 
 When his marketing is over. 
 To his hollow stump flies he. 
 
WORK AND PLAT. l9 
 
 Who among the feathered people 
 
 Will not stay at home at night? 
 "Who-o! who-o!" screams the solemn Owlet, 
 
 Pooh! He can't give us a fright. 
 
 THE RACES. 
 
 Spin, spin, old earth. 
 
 Turn, turn to the Sun, 
 Light, light each race 
 Till your course is run. 
 And with the earth as it spins and twirls 
 Go five different sorts of boys and girls. 
 
 Five different kinds? 
 
 Now, how can that be? 
 Think a moment. 
 What color are we ? 
 White? Let us hope so, with clean hands and face, 
 Caucasian, or White is the name of our race. 
 
 Who used to hunt 
 
 Where our houses stand? 
 Whose children played 
 All over this land? 
 Indians? Yes, here in this very place 
 Once lived the Red, American race. 
 
20 WORK AND PLAY, 
 
 Dear uncle Tom, 
 
 What color was he? — 
 Eva's good friend — 
 
 Black as black could be. 
 Ah! a white soul lights the darkest face, 
 These are our brothers, the African race. 
 
 Who wear long cues 
 And a funny dress? 
 " Washee,"— " Melican,"— 
 Ah ! I see, you guess. 
 Yellow, or Mongolian race, that's four, — 
 Chinese and Japanese, now one more. 
 
 With painted skin 
 
 And wild, savage looks. 
 You see sometimes 
 In your picture books 
 The men of the Brown, or Malay race. 
 They'll never come here for the fight and chase. 
 
 Spin, spin, old earth, 
 
 Turn, turn to the sun, 
 Light, light each race 
 Till your course is run. 
 And Earth replies as it spins and twirls. 
 Yes, five difi'erent sorts of boys and girls. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 21 
 
 MR. HOP TOAD. 
 
 Mr. Hop Toad is out for his evening walk, 
 
 Be careful, O little flies! 
 You'll watch Mr. Hop Toad a long way oil — 
 
 If you are the least bit wise. 
 
 'Tis true that his figure is fine, my dears, 
 
 A pattern of airy grace, 
 But those that come near him are apt to observe 
 
 A curious expression of face. 
 
 " Now what is he studying out?" they say, 
 
 A riddle, a sum, perhaps, 
 " For his thoughts are a million miles away" — 
 
 Then, quick as a flash, he snaps! 
 
 And the wondering fly is swallowed up 
 
 Before he has made it out; 
 So watch Mr. Hop Toad a long way off 
 
 Whenever he comes about. 
 
 THE ZONES. 
 
 [Tke Frigid Zone may be represented by a small circle of 
 children turning slowly, and slowly repeating or singing the 
 first two stanzas. The Temperate Zone may be a larger circle 
 with a more lively movement, and the Torrid, larger still, and 
 iurning more rapidly. The circles being concentric, all may 
 turn together while singing the last two stanzas-l 
 
 The Frigid Zone. 
 Cold, cold and slow, 
 With ice and snow, 
 A long, strange day and night; 
 
i WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 No turn about 
 Year in, year out^ 
 Will keep us warm and bright. 
 
 To cheer our doom 
 
 A late scant bloom, 
 
 With moss and lichens grey; 
 
 But Winter's reign 
 
 Too soon again 
 
 Chills all our joy away. 
 
 The Temperate Zone. 
 
 How shall we tell of the varied cheer 
 
 Circling about our changeful year? 
 Smiling in Spring's shy, happy face, 
 
 Shining in Summer's queenly grace, 
 Flaming in Autumn's glorious death, 
 
 Living in Winter's frosty breath. 
 Gladly we tell the varied cheer 
 
 Circling about our changeful year. 
 
 The Torrid Zone. 
 
 With verdure, and blossom, and fruitage undying, 
 We bask in the warmth of the tropical Sun, 
 
 And still while the earth in her orbit is flying 
 Our beautiful Summer will never be done. 
 
 Forever unfolding, forever renewing 
 
 Earth's brightest and richest deck forest and field. 
 No pitiless Winter our treasures pursuing 
 
 Can make them in death to his tyranny yield. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 All Together. 
 
 Changing now the various measure^ 
 Blending now the differing tones, 
 
 Sing we joyously together, 
 Frigid, Temperate, Torrid Zones. 
 
 All the earth is full of wonders, 
 Belted round with heat and cold, 
 
 Giving of her royal bounty 
 Blessings ever new and old. 
 
 THE ADJECTIVE. 
 
 [After pointing out the adjectives in these rhymes, the chil- 
 dren may apply appropriate adjectives to the names of ob- 
 jects around them.] 
 
 Who doesn't know that nouns are names? 
 Nobody? Well, there are more word games; 
 This one will teach us the words to find. 
 That tell how many, which ones, what kind. 
 
 Three blind mice and one little bo}' blue, 
 A beautiful rosebush, the morning dew. 
 Some nice bananas, a scarlet cap, 
 A warm afternoon, a good long nap. 
 
 The Forty Thieves, a wonderful lamp, 
 A Mexican dog, a hungry tramp; 
 A tiresome talker, a jolly game, 
 An Irish jig and a Choctaw name. 
 
24 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 This picture, that door, these girls and boys, 
 Those selfish children's expensive toys, 
 Each moment and every fleeting hour, 
 Some chocolate drops, a sudden shower. 
 
 Good resolutions and sad mistakes, 
 A pile of thin buttered buckwheat cakes; 
 Barbarous Hottentots, savage Huns, 
 Cranberry jelly and hot cross buns. 
 
 The first pair of skates, the last high chair, 
 A long-tailed kite and a breezy air; 
 Several faults but a temper mild, 
 A dutiful, truthful, docile child. 
 
 Every one try all the words to find. 
 That tell how many, which ones, what kind; 
 Adjectives they are, they're joined to names. 
 Some other time we'll have more word games. 
 
 THE TREES. 
 
 All. 
 In orchard and garden. 
 
 In forest and field. 
 In great crowded cities 
 
 Our bounty we yield; 
 Of shelter and coolness. 
 
 Of fruitage and bloom, 
 Of frolicsome beauty 
 
 And stateliest gloom. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 25 
 
 The Oak, 
 Rugged, and strong, and brave am I. 
 
 The Pine. 
 Sweet is my breath, and soft my sigh. 
 
 The Elm. 
 Mine is a rare, bewitching grace. 
 
 The Willow. 
 Long swaying tresses veil my face. 
 
 The Maple. 
 I glow in the springtime, in autumn I blaze. 
 The Gum. 
 My beacon light shines through October's white haze. 
 The Ash. 
 My shadow is good. 
 And fine are the veins in my tough, hard wood. 
 
 The White Birch. 
 
 Slim, silvery stem 
 
 And nervous leaves. 
 When the wind with the sun 
 
 Swift fancies weaves. 
 
 The Yellow Birch. 
 
 ft 
 
 My gifts are for use and for beauty, too, 
 The Indian trinket, the slender canoe. 
 
 The Locust. 
 I perfume the lazy summer air. 
 
\ WOEK AND PLAY. 
 
 ' The Fir. 
 My snow laden foliage is passing fair. 
 The Larch. 
 With the daintiest nymphs of the lawn I vie. 
 The Lomhardy Poplar, 
 My old-fashioned branches point straight to the sky. 
 The Tulip Poplar. 
 My blossom is surely the sylvan queen. 
 
 The Aspen. 
 Such a pitiful trembler was never seen. 
 The Chestnut. 
 
 Pale, delicate plumes the June air stirs, 
 Then, after the frost hoards of bursting burrs* 
 The Hickory and Beech. 
 
 On winter nights with the hearth aflame, 
 Plenty of nuts and a merry game, 
 In the good old times we flourished. 
 
 The Cherry Tree. 
 
 The robins know well what I am about, 
 I garnished the stolen tarts, no doubt, 
 Which the Knave of Hearts once nourished. 
 
 The Apple., Peach., and Pear* 
 
 With glorious bloom. 
 
 With generous cheer, 
 We crown the spring. 
 
 We gladden the year. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 27 
 
 All. 
 
 In forest and city, 
 In garden and grove, 
 
 Give us in return 
 
 Your protecting love. 
 
 For shelter and coolness, 
 For fruitage and bloom, 
 
 For frolicsome beauty, 
 
 • And stateliest gloom. 
 
 GREAT GRANDFATHER'S COAT. 
 
 [One group of boys may take tlie washing of the sheep ; 
 another, tlie shearing ; another, the sorting of the wool, going 
 through the motions as they repeat the rhymes. In the same 
 way, three groups of girls may give the carding, spinning, and 
 weaving ; or one girl may take the spinning, and one the 
 weaving.] 
 
 Great Great Grandmother. 
 
 Little John must have a new coat. 
 
 Great Great Grandfather. 
 
 Then we will wash the sheep to-day. 
 
 Washing the Sheep. 
 
 Come splashing and dashing 
 
 Into the pool, 
 Now rubbing and scrubbing, 
 
 How nice and cool! 
 
28 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 The sheep are complaining 
 
 "Ba-a-ba, ba-a-ba," 
 The little lambs whimper, 
 
 " Ma-a-ma, ma-a-ma." 
 
 Just wait till we hurt you 
 
 Before you cry; 
 You'll feel all the better 
 
 In hot July. 
 
 Come splashing and dashing 
 
 Into the pool, 
 A scrubbing and rubbing, 
 
 How nice and cool! 
 
 Shearing the Sheep. 
 Clip, clip, clip; ba-a, ba-a! 
 Soft and snug the curling fleeces. 
 
 Warm and soft the summer air, 
 Clip, clip, clip; ba-a, ba-a, 
 Now a winter coat for Johnnie 
 
 You can well afford to spare. 
 Clip, clip, clip; ba-a, ba-a! 
 
 Clip, clip, clip; ba-a, ba-a! 
 
 Never mind! the shears are harmless. 
 
 There! be still, don't be afraid! 
 Clip, clip, clip; ba-a, ba-a; 
 Gently, kindly we'll despoil you, 
 
 So, your pasturage is paid. 
 Clip, clip, clip; ba-a, ba-a. 
 
WOKK AND PLAT. 29 
 
 Sorting the Wool. 
 
 The sheep are away on the hillside, 
 There's no one at home in the fold, 
 
 But there in the barn are their great-coats 
 That kept out the wet and the cold. 
 
 It's certain they never will miss them, 
 For long before Jack Frost brings snow, 
 
 Before even chilly November, 
 
 Their new coats will have time to grow. 
 
 So we will sort over the fleeces; 
 
 There's some for a new Sunday dress. 
 And here's for some very good blankets, • 
 
 Here's tippet and mittens for Bess. 
 
 And this is for jackets and waistcoats, 
 And these are for stout heavy socks; 
 
 And Polly must have some ribbed stockings, 
 And Nancy will need two checked frocks. 
 
 This will do for Tom's everyday trousers, — 
 He wears out his clothes in a trice, — 
 
 Now put all the lambs' wool together. 
 For little John's coat must be nice. 
 
 The sheep are away on the hillside, 
 There's no one at home in the fold. 
 
 But thanks to their last winter's great-coats, 
 We dread not the wet and the cold. 
 
30 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Carding the Wool. 
 Clickety- clack the hand-cards go, 
 
 Olickety-clack, clackety-click, 
 Sheep's wool goes to the mill, you know, 
 
 Clickety-clack, clackety-click. 
 
 Lamb's wool is carded at home, by hand, 
 Clickety-clack, clackety-click. 
 
 The spinner is waiting, you understand, 
 Clickety-clack, clackety-click. 
 
 Waiting for soft, round rolls of wool, 
 Clickety-clack, clackety-click. 
 
 There are enough for a spindle full, 
 Clickety-clack, clackety-click. 
 
 How many spindlefuls will do? 
 
 Clickety-clack, clackety-click. 
 Oh! — cacd away till we get through, 
 
 Clickety-clack, clackety click. 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r; 
 With a step and a turn 
 You will easily learn. 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r. 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r; 
 Use your very best art, 
 Lest the yielding roll part; 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r. 
 
WORK AND PLAT. 31 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r; 
 For a fine, even thread, 
 Back and forth must be led; 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r. 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r; 
 Spin the warp and the weft, 
 Pretty spinner so deft, 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r. 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r; 
 Twine a sunbeam or so 
 With your work as you go; 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r. 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r; 
 'Tis the spinning-wheel's song, 
 AH the afternoon long. 
 
 Hum, hum, whir-r. 
 
 Weaving. 
 The clouds of September scud over the sky. 
 Across the long web the swift shuttle must fly; 
 Down, wavering down, the bright autumn leaves float, 
 Cold weather is near, John must have his new coat. 
 
 Fly, shuttle fly! The swift threads meet; 
 
 Fly, weaver, ply your nimble feet. 
 
 The days may be short, and the nights may grow long, 
 There is cheer in our work, there is joy in our song, - 
 There is humble thanksgiving to soften our mirth, * 
 For the bountiful fruits of the Mother Earth. 
 
 Fly, shuttle fly! The swift threads meet; 
 
 Ply, weaver, ply your nimble feet. 
 
32 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 The field and the orchard, the barn and the fold, 
 Have yielded their tribute more precious than gold. 
 The thresher, the miller, the weaver can tell 
 The Ijord of the harvest hath done all things well. 
 
 Fly, shuttle fly! The swift threads meet. 
 
 Ply, weaver, ply your nimble feet. 
 
 THE WIND. 
 
 How does the wind blow? 
 
 Say, do you know? 
 Where does it come from? 
 
 Where does it go? 
 
 It's nothing but air. 
 And that's not rare, 
 
 Air in a hurry 
 
 To get somewhere. 
 
 Why doesn't it stay 
 And spend the day? 
 
 Why must it always 
 Away, away? 
 
 Dame Nature, you see, 
 
 Will not agree 
 That the smallest cranny 
 
 Should empty be. 
 She calls for the air, 
 Now here, now there; 
 " Rush down that valley, 
 
WOliK AND PLAY. 
 
 Run up that stair! 
 Sweep over the Sea 
 
 And bring with thee 
 Great laden vessels, 
 
 Rest not, go! flee!" 
 And the tireless wind 
 
 Must ever find 
 Some pressing errand 
 
 Is just behind. 
 
 Now it is soft as a baby's breath, 
 
 Now it is terror, ruin, and death! 
 Up on the mountains, down by the shore. 
 
 In at each window and open door; 
 Soothing the sick, inspiring the strong, 
 Rollicking, whistling, singing a song, 
 Moaning and howling and sighing " Ah-h Me-e!' 
 Wonderful, changeful old Wind is he. 
 
 33 
 
 THE CONTINENT. 
 
 [The children join hands forming an irregular outline like 
 the shores of a continent, facing the outside till they have 
 sung the first two stanzas. Then they face the inside while 
 singiog the second two, waving their hands tojvard the fields, 
 forests, and deserts, raising them as high as possible for the- 
 mountains, and less high for the hills, and making a winding 
 motion for the rivers. In the fifth stanza they suit the action 
 to the words, making an isthmus and a peninsula, and then 
 separating the latter from the continent for an island. At the 
 last stanza they break up mto little groups to represent a 
 number of islands, and then disperse to their seats.] 
 
34 , WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Geography shall be our song, 
 
 Now all join hands, stand fast, hold strong, 
 
 All in and out our line is bent 
 
 For we must make a continent ! 
 
 Outside the sea comes dashing round. 
 
 It cannot break its sandy bound, 
 
 But ripples up in gulfs and bays. 
 
 And round the capis and headlands plays. 
 
 Within are countries, cities, homes. 
 And wild woods where the savage roams, 
 And grain fields stretching wide and fair, 
 And desert wastes with scorching air. 
 
 Great mountains raise their snowy heads, 
 Bright rivers sparkle in their beds, 
 And make the winding valleys green, 
 The wavy hills roll on between. 
 
 Now bend the shore, an isthmus trace. 
 It holds peninsula in place, 
 But when the waves dash strong and high 
 Behold! an island, by and by. 
 
 Then break in groups and scatter, so, 
 What's this? an Archipelago; 
 Now little islands let us play 
 The sea has washed you all away. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 35 
 
 THE SUN, THE EARTH, AND THE MOON. 
 
 [A group of children may represent tlie Eartli ; one girl, the 
 Moon; one boy, the Sua. At the beginning of the song the 
 Moon is between the Sun and the Earth, and on a line with 
 them. At the fourth stanza she has slowly advanced over one- 
 eighth of the circle she is to describe around the earth; at 
 the sixth, one-fourth, at the eighth, one-half, bringing her to 
 the full Moon point. During the remainder of the exercise 
 she continues her circuit around the Earth. At the last two 
 stanzas the earth group formed of little concentric rings may 
 turn about for the daily motion, and at the same time move 
 along an imaginary curve around the Sun.] 
 
 The Earth. 
 
 No clouds are in the evening sky, 
 
 The stars have all come out, 
 But where is now my Lady Moon, 
 
 Gone off alone to pout? 
 
 The Sun. 
 
 Your Lady Moon now turns to me 
 
 Her soft and silvery gaze, 
 But never mind, your time will come, 
 
 We know her tricky ways. 
 
 The Moon. 
 
 Ah ! why should I be so accused 
 
 Of faults that are not mine? 
 How can I always cheer and charm 
 
 With only borrowed shine? 
 
36 WOEK AND PLAY. 
 
 The Earth. 
 
 There ! There ! behold her in the west; 
 
 Veiled, almost out of sight; 
 A glimpse of cheek, a gleam of chia, 
 
 Is all we get to-night. 
 
 The Moon. 
 
 The Sun himself for all his boast 
 Sulks many a tiresome day, 
 
 If I am tricky, fickle, cross, 
 Just what is he, I pray? 
 
 The Earth. 
 
 She smiles, she dimples, half-unveiled, 
 
 My gentle Lady Moon, 
 How can I owe a grudge to her. 
 
 When she relents so soon? 
 
 The Moon. 
 
 I, who must ever turn about 
 This fussy, restless Earth, 
 
 May well be weary, now and then, 
 Of both her woe and mirtn. 
 
 The Earth, 
 
 Now like a queen she rides in state 
 Up through the cloudless way, 
 
 The harvester sings in the field, 
 The happy children play. 
 
WOKK AND PLAY. 8? 
 
 The 8un. 
 
 But where would be your gracious Queen 
 
 Without my royal aid? 
 And when, and how, fond babblers, will 
 
 Your debts to me be paid? 
 
 The Earth and The Moon, 
 
 Together through the centuries 
 
 Oar ceaseless course we run; 
 The Moon about the whirling Earth, 
 
 And both about the Sun. 
 
 The Sun^ The Earthy and The Moon. 
 
 And all join in a wondrous scheme 
 
 Of seasons, nights, and days, 
 So let no discord mar our hymn 
 
 Of love, and peace, and praise. 
 
 THE VERB. 
 
 The minnows swim, the robins fly. 
 
 And children play and run; 
 Verbs tell what things and people do, 
 
 And now our game's begun. 
 
 John reads, Jane talks, and Julia laughs, 
 
 Sam guesses, Mary knows. 
 The magpie chatters, thrushes sing. 
 
 Time passes, Summer goes. 
 
38 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Grain ripens, lovely flowers fade, 
 
 The yellow apples fall ; 
 The farmer smiles, the beggar fears, 
 
 The workmen shout and call. 
 
 Clouds gather, thunder rolls, rain falls, 
 Hail rattles, cold winds blow, 
 
 The kettle boils, the biscuits bake. 
 The tarts stand in a row. 
 
 The boy complains, the baby cries, 
 The mother rocks and pats ; 
 
 The teachers praise, the scholars try, 
 Will throws, and Henry bats. 
 
 Heat melts, cold freezes, water flows ; 
 
 Bears fight, doves coo, wasps sting ; 
 The lawyer writes, the tailor sews, 
 
 The merry bells do ring. 
 
 Hope cheers, and Truth ennobles all. 
 Sweet Patience smooths our ways. 
 
 Faith trusts and watches, works and waits, 
 And Love forever stays. 
 
 DADDY LONGLEGS' DONATION PARTY. 
 
 The Grasshopper summoned his neighbors one day. 
 For something quite pressing he wanted to say. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 39 
 
 The Chrasshopper. 
 The fact is, that Longlegs, our worthy old friend, 
 Is ailing and poor, and perhaps near his end. 
 A donation party would be just the thing, 
 For surely each one of us something can bring. 
 Now I, as you know, never varj'- my plan, 
 I donate molasses, a pretty large can. 
 
 The Ant. 
 I'll give him some straw and a bundle of wood, 
 For bedding and fuel do old people good. 
 
 The Bee. 
 
 I'll spare him some excellent pieces of wax, 
 I'll warrant his chamber is all full of cracks. 
 
 The Wasp. 
 Some paper, a choice neutral tint, I'll provide, 
 The chinks from the nurse and the doctor to hide. 
 
 The Cricket. 
 If Daddy a little tisane can digest, 
 I'll make one of bread crumb and go with the rest. 
 
 House Fly. 
 Their screens are shut tighter than ever this year, 
 I'll get him a morsel, though, somehow, no fear I 
 
 Dragon Fly. 
 The doctors all order medicinal springs, 
 I'll bring him a draught and a douche on my wings. 
 
 Butterfly. 
 Some nectar to sweeten his powders and pills. 
 Would help him, no doubt, to put up with these ills. 
 
40 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Lady Bug. 
 IVe studied the question of diet, I'll own, 
 I know what will raise a weak stomach's tone. 
 
 The Spider. 
 A web of fine sheeting I thought of at first, 
 It will not be amiss, should worse come to worst. 
 
 The Mosquito. 
 I've tortured my brain to think how I could aid. 
 Oh I — what would you say to a band serenade? 
 
 Katy-Did. 
 For my part, I mean to display my good will, 
 By trying, for once in my life, to be still. 
 
 The Moth. 
 Though useless, I'm sorry to say, in daylight, 
 I'll gladly sit up with the patient at night. 
 
 They came with their potions, and goods, and advice, 
 Said poor Daddy Longlegs, " Well, now, this is nice." 
 
 THE RAINBOW. 
 
 [One child may represent the sun, and a group of children 
 holding the rainbow colors in tissue papers or ribbons, may 
 answer for the raindrops, while the group of questioners 
 stands between them and the sun.] 
 
 Children. 
 How can rays of clear, white light. 
 Make this wondrous, glorious sight ? 
 Are there jugglers in the air. 
 Playing tricks so strange and rare ? 
 
WORK AND PLAT. 41 
 
 The Sun. 
 Ask the little drops of rain, 
 They have something to explain, 
 How they meddled with my light. 
 How they made the gorgeous sight. 
 
 The Raindrops. 
 
 That is rather hard to say. 
 
 But we did it, any way; 
 
 First we bent the rays' straight line, 
 
 Then we used a mirror fine. 
 
 Which reflected them to you — 
 
 Truly this is what we do 
 
 When this heavenly arch we spread, 
 
 Blue, green, yellow, orange, red; 
 
 For the blue light bends the best. 
 
 Then come after it the rest, 
 
 With the glowing red inside; 
 
 So the bow sweeps fair and wide. 
 
 The Sun. 
 
 All the hues that charm your sight 
 Dwell in my pure, pearly light; 
 Flower, and bird, and precious stone, 
 Only give me back my own. 
 
 Children. 
 
 Blessed be the sun and rain, 
 This shall be our glad refrain; 
 Blessed be the Lord of light. 
 He who gives us sun and sight. 
 
42 WORK AND PLAY, 
 
 MATHEMATICAL CAKE AND PIE. 
 
 [In the first stanza two children, some distance apart, repre- 
 sent the two points to be connected by a straight line of chil- 
 dren joining hands. Three or four additional ones enter the 
 line to make it crooked. Two equal straight lines of pupils 
 crossing at right angles in the center of each line, one radius 
 being moved for the adjacent acute and obtase angles, repre- 
 sent the pie. Four equal straight lines forming a square, 
 afterward altered for the oblong, make the cakes.] 
 
 The straight line is the shortest way, 
 
 To get from point to point; 
 The crooked line is a longer way, 
 
 A way all out of joint. 
 
 Two straight lines crossing so, on pie, 
 
 Four equal pieces make ; 
 And four right angles are the points. 
 
 You don't care which you take. 
 
 If Susie thought her piece too large, 
 
 She might give some to Joe; 
 Her angle then would be acute, 
 
 And his, obtuse, you know. 
 
 The line of crust about your pie 
 Is quite a lovely curve, 
 . Just so far from the center out. 
 The circle must not swerve. 
 
 Now cut your crust off straight across, 
 
 Four triangles appear; 
 The quarters are righc-angled ones, 
 
 That certainly is clear. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 43 
 
 A triangle that's called obtuse, 
 
 Joe's portion now becomes; 
 Sue's triangle is named acute, 
 
 And she gets fewer plums. 
 
 A cake that has four equal sides, 
 
 And four right angles, too; 
 A good square cake all light and plump, 
 
 With blueberries all through. 
 
 That's very well, but if you wish 
 
 Whole slices to go round, 
 An oblong cake with shorter ends, 
 
 A better plan is found. 
 
 THE FLOWER. 
 
 [One little girl sits in the center, holding in her lap a few 
 small balls, which represent the seeds in the pistil. Five of 
 the smallest children stand close around her, and facing her, 
 holding in their closed hands small bits of paper for the pollen 
 in the anthers of the stamens. Five others stand around these 
 facing the outside of the ring. These are the petals. Outside 
 is another ring of five for the sepals. At first they are crowded 
 closely together for the bud. In singing the last two lines of 
 the first stanza the rings all gradually enlarge, and at its close 
 the sepals drop on their knees. The petals expand their ring 
 a little more as they sing, and then remain standing. The 
 stamens at the last line of their stanza, drop their bits of paper 
 on the seeds in the lap of the pistil. All sing the last stanza 
 together.] 
 
4:4 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 The Sepals, 
 Folded safely in our keeping, 
 
 Lies the secret of the flower; 
 Sun, and rain, and coaxing breezes, 
 
 Strive to win it every hour. 
 
 The Petals. 
 
 Now, at last, our bonds are broken; 
 
 Ah! how fresh this summer air; 
 Life for us has one sweet duty, 
 
 Just to make a flower fair. 
 
 The Stamens. 
 
 We must guard the precious pollen 
 In our anthers snug and fast, 
 
 Till it slowly, surely ripens, 
 Ready for its work at last. 
 
 The Pistil and The Stamens. 
 
 Then when comes another summer, 
 Other flowers will grow and thrive, 
 
 Just because our care and forethought 
 Kept the baby seeds alive. 
 
 The Whole Flower. 
 
 Work and duty, grace and beauty. 
 This is all our little part; 
 
 He who reads aright our lesson 
 Let him lay it well to heart. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 45 
 
 FOUR-FOOTED HOUSEKEEPERS. 
 
 Out in the orchards, the fields and the woods, 
 Building queer houses and hoarding their goods, 
 Four-footed people so busy and shy- 
 To hide their housekeeping from us vainly try. 
 
 Dame Squirrel's apartments she finds ready made, 
 In trees of the woods where no rent need be paid; 
 Their hollows are cupboards as nice as you please. 
 She fills them with acorns and nuts at her ease. 
 
 The poor timid Rabbit retires under ground, 
 In hopes that her nursery will not be found. 
 She carpets it warmly sometimes with her hair. 
 And brings up her numerous rabbitkins there. 
 
 The Field Mouse provides for her long Winter rest 
 Some snug little mound for a pantry and nest; 
 Then placing her grain and her nuts very near, 
 She naps and she nibbles the rest of the year. 
 
 They say that the tiniest, cunningest house 
 Belongs to the downy, wee, brown Harvest Mouse, 
 It hano-s like a ball on the stalks of the wheat, 
 You can't find its door, for the work is too neat. 
 
 Friend Woodchuck works hard for his poor little cell, 
 His paws are his tools, and he does his work well. 
 He digs and he shovels like two hired men. 
 He knows he shall sleep sound till Spring comes again. 
 
46 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 It's plain that at home Mrs. Mole won't be caught, 
 So wisely her underground dwelling is wrought, 
 Down deep in the ground a large circular space. 
 Two circular galleries over this place, . 
 Eight different ways to go up, down, around. 
 Three different passages out in the ground. 
 
 The Weasel knows well eggs and chickens are nice. 
 He steals to the coop, helps himself in a trice. 
 Then off to his holje by the edge of the creek, 
 He takes his long body, smooth, slender, and sleek. 
 
 Down in the thick bushes beside some tall tree 
 Sly Madam Opossum is mum as can be, 
 Fruit, insects, and eggs are the fare she provides. 
 Her little ones safe in her pocket she hides. 
 
 O Mr. Raccoon ! we have heard of your pranks. 
 And your old hollow tree by the river banks; 
 When corn, fruit, and cane to tempt you all fail. 
 You fish for some crabs with the end of your tail. 
 And oysters, you know, are delectable raw. 
 But when the shell shuts, pray look out for your paw ! 
 
 To " work like a Beaver " means work, sure enough. 
 They have such a labor to saw out their stuff. 
 With branches and mud Winter cabins they build. 
 Their tails for their trowels, the chinks are all filled. 
 Then a dam must be made, just outside by the door, 
 So the water will always be high on their shore, 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 47 
 
 To cover the entrance way down out of sight, 
 And not let low water freeze over it tight. 
 Up stairs in their parlor they lounge and they chat, 
 Down stairs is their larder, — ^roots, leaves, and all that. 
 
 THE HEART AND THE BLOOD. 
 
 What beating is this that I feel in my breast? 
 
 A wonderful engine that never must rest. 
 
 But what is it doing, all night and all day? 
 
 Why, sending your life-blood along on its way. 
 
 And why must our blood always be on the go? 
 
 Your flesh and your bones must be nourished,you know. 
 
 How can the blood travel to head, hands and feet? 
 
 Three lines of canals make its journey complete. 
 
 Which way does it go, and how does it start? 
 
 An artery takes it, left side of the heart. 
 
 How far does it take it, and where does it change? 
 
 All over the body the arteries range. 
 
 Oh! — What is the use then, of more than one line? 
 
 The arteries end in small vessels so fine. 
 
 But how does the blood ever find its way back? 
 
 The veins take it then, so it can't lose its track. 
 
 And when it gets back, does the heart let it in? 
 
 Yes, on the right side, where its walls are quite thin. 
 
 You said that it started round on the left side? 
 
 Before it gets there we must have it re- dyed. 
 
 Why ! Can the blood really get faded and pale? 
 
 Not that, it is dark-colored, worn out, and stale. 
 
 Then how can the heart ever make it bright red? 
 
 The heart can't do that, but the Iimgs must, instead. 
 
48 WORK AND VhkX. 
 
 Well, then, it Uie work of tho hoiirt at an ond ? 
 
 No, the bl(HKl to the lunf^ tho heart now mufit send. 
 
 Ami what in thmo to it when onoo it gets thoro? 
 
 In the luiiu's' lilt!*' crlN it Inkrs in the frt^sh air. 
 
 AiHi wiuMi ttial ijs ovrr.'' 
 
 ThtMi l)aok to tlu» luMirt 
 And t>ut the left hide again. 
 With a frosh start! 
 
 THE THREE KINGDOMS. 
 
 We are three kingdoms aa old as the earth, 
 
 And still we are young to-day ; 
 We are three kingdoms that, widi* as the earth, 
 
 Still rule in our own good way. 
 
 Who are your subjects, and what are your crowns ? 
 
 And where are scepter and throne ? 
 Show us the palaces of your kings, 
 
 Name the countries that they own. 
 
 Animal Kingdom. 
 Little we care for a palace and throne 
 
 When all the wide world is ours, 
 When every moving aii<i breathing thing. 
 
 For tribute brings its powers. 
 The roar of the lioti, the gniit's iine hum, 
 
 The breath of the mighty whale, 
 The nests of the birds, the coral isles, 
 
 Tis a wondrous, endless tale. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 49 
 
 The Vegetable Klngdonu 
 For scepter and crown we need not care 
 
 Who have the oak and the rose, 
 The wheat and the corn, the palm and the fern, 
 
 Every leaf and flower that grows. 
 The Mineral Kingdom. 
 And as for the countries that we own, ^ 
 
 If all their names you ask, 
 The map of the world will be worn out 
 
 Before you have learned your task. 
 The silver and gold, and precious stones, 
 
 The stores of iron and coal, 
 The diamond and the wayside dust, 
 
 Our kinorJom claims the whole. 
 
 THE SENSES. 
 Oh ! tell us if you ever think 
 
 What joys we bring to you? 
 And how our kindly help is given 
 In every thing you do ? 
 
 The Children, 
 Who are you, then, mysterious friends 
 * That make such urgent claims? 
 Unfold to us your benefits 
 
 And let us know your name. 
 The Senses. 
 Five priceless open doors are we, 
 
 That lead into the mind, 
 Where knowledge fair and pleasure rare 
 
 A constant entrance find. 
 
50 WOJJK AND PLAY. 
 
 Sight. 
 Shut now, your bright eyes, every one 
 
 And what would be your state 
 If no more pictures should come through 
 
 My lovely crystal gate ? 
 Searing. 
 Then fancy how your life would seem . 
 
 Shut out from every sound. 
 Instead of laugh, and chat, and song, 
 
 Dull silence all around. 
 Touch. 
 What if your busy fingers had 
 
 No sense to know things by, 
 What clumsy fumbling it would be 
 
 The smallest work to try. 
 
 Taste. 
 If oranges were just as good 
 
 As sawdust cake and pie. 
 If sugar plums were quinine pills, 
 
 You'd have a mind to cry. 
 S?nelL 
 The brightest flower without perfume 
 
 Would never be so good, 
 The odor of your pear or peach, 
 
 Might be a fairy's food. 
 The Children. 
 Thanks ! thanks to you, five precious friends, 
 
 We own your urgent claims. 
 Sight, Hearing, Touch, and Taste and Smell, 
 
 We cherish well your names. 
 
WOKK AND PLAY. 51 
 
 FOOD PLANTS. 
 
 Wheats Barley^ Oats, Rye, Indian Corn and Potatoes, 
 A goodly fellowship are we, 
 
 A league for life and strength, 
 Earth gladdens with our victories, 
 Throughout her breadth and length. 
 Wheat. 
 I love the warm and temperate zones, 
 
 I am the farmer's gold, 
 My white bread cheers the toiler now, 
 'Twas for the rich of old. 
 Barley. 
 I brave the cold with bristling beard, 
 
 I've wandered wide, in sooth. 
 Since Boaz saw among his sheaves 
 
 The gentle gleaner Ruth. 
 The baker and the brewer, too. 
 Know how my grain to prize, 
 And barley sugar once was dear 
 In little people's eyes. 
 Oats. 
 A Scotch mist will not chill my heart, 
 
 I thrive for man and beast. 
 For brain, and bone, and fodderingj 
 
 The great things and the least. ; 
 
 Bye. 
 In sandy soil, in northern climes 
 
 That kill the dainty wheat. 
 My hardy growth fails not to yield 
 The peasants' brown bread sweet. 
 
52 WOKK AND PLAY. 
 
 Indian Corn. 
 With tassels fine and streamers gay, 
 
 A silky, milky ear, 
 The New World's har vest gift am I, 
 
 The cronwed king of cheer. 
 What merry-makings will compare 
 
 With husking frolics past, 
 My hasty-pudding and hoe-cake 
 
 Have broken many a fast. 
 The Potato. 
 I boast no grace, no favor claim, 
 
 Earth's hardy, helpful child, 
 My homely tubers grope for life 
 
 In regions stern or mild. 
 
 WHAT THE FISHES THINK. 
 
 Your x'ulleys may be lovely. 
 
 Your mountains grand and high; 
 
 They're both in our opinion, 
 Insufferably dry. 
 
 Your groves and woods are charming? 
 
 Your fields are full of flowers? 
 Here floods of gayest sunshine? 
 
 There wild and shady bowers? 
 
 Yes, you have many pleasures, 
 
 Considering your room; 
 But doWn in our great ocean 
 
 What space for life and bloom! 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 53 
 
 What storehouse of hid treasures, 
 
 What wonderlands untold! 
 Queer flowers that are fishes, 
 
 Their fans and stars unfold. 
 
 Anemones that swallow 
 
 And move without a breeze, 
 And graceful, branching corals, 
 
 The ocean's curious trees. 
 
 Sea-chestnuts that can travel, 
 
 Medusas with long hair; 
 And living, thirsty sponges, 
 
 Pearl oysters, seaweeds rare. 
 
 Cold-blooded, silent, are we? 
 
 Ah, well! we have our fun, 
 Who freely move as we do, 
 
 Care not to fly or run. 
 
 And how one can be happy 
 With neither fins nor gills. 
 
 And without scales contented. 
 Our minds with wonder fills. 
 
 Then keep your fields and valleys, 
 Your woods and mountains high, 
 
 They're all, in our opinion, 
 InsuflFerably dry. 
 
54 WOEK AND PLAT. 
 
 GOOD FAIRY PATIENCE. 
 
 Boy. 
 
 There! My shoe string has gone in an old hard knot, 
 And the boys are all out with their skates on the lotj 
 I'll break it! 
 
 Patience. 
 
 Nay! don't, there's a cool little man, 
 But manage it, coax it, untie it, you can) 
 
 GirL 
 
 I'll just throw this bothering pencil away, 
 The point of it breaks fifty times every day. 
 
 Patience. 
 
 Fifty times? Now suppose we should call it twice; 
 Then, bearing on gently, you'll find it quite nice. 
 
 Girls and Boys. 
 
 It's always the way, it must just go and rain! 
 
 Patience. 
 
 And why should that make you so loudly complain? 
 
 Girls and Boys. 
 
 We wanted to go to the woods for some flowers. 
 
 Patience. 
 
 I'll warrant they're glad you don't order the showers. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 65 
 
 Girl. 
 
 Oh! I know I was never so warm before. 
 Not a breath comes in at the window or door. 
 
 Patience. 
 
 One touch of my wand, all so gentle and light, 
 Will banish the heat and the fidgets outright. 
 
 Boy. 
 
 It's always work, work; I'm as tired as can be; 
 I shall nisver be done, I'm sure I can't see 
 The use! 
 
 Patience. 
 
 Of such fretting? Nor I, for we know 
 Without it, you might have been done long ago. 
 
 Boy. 
 
 Somebody has just gone and taken my ball, 
 I've looked everywhere, I can't find it at all. 
 Provoking! 
 
 Patience, 
 
 That's true, but I know a droll way, 
 
 Let the ball find itself, it will some fine day, 
 
 Or troublesome somebody, always to blame. 
 
 May happen to think where he played his last game. 
 
 Girl. 
 
 Now, stop ! will you? can't you just let me alone? 
 I'll go and tell mother! see what you have done! 
 
56 WORK AND PLAT. 
 
 Patience, 
 
 No, tell rae! the very best way with a tease 
 
 Is just to be jolly and quite at your ease. 
 
 He'll get tired of that, and the first thing you know 
 
 In search of some better amusement will go. 
 
 Girl. 
 
 Oh! how my head aches! I can't study or play, 
 I must starve and be quiet the whole long day. 
 
 Patience. 
 
 That's hard, but believe me, my poor little friend, 
 There's nothing like patience for hastening the end. 
 
 HOW THE WILD FLOWERS COME. 
 
 [In Spriagtime this miy be made a useful exercise in 
 bolany, by having the children fiad each of ihe flowers named. 
 As the teacher calls for each flower, a child might advance 
 and present the flower repeating the lines describing it. 
 As the flowers are not all in season at the same time, the ex- 
 ercise may be divided into several lessons.] 
 
 Pussy Willow. 
 
 Here we come ! Never fear ! 
 
 It will be a good year. 
 
 For the bare cold time is over, 
 
 And my silvery gleam, 
 
 In the lane, by the stream. 
 Greets every Spring-loving rover. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 57 
 
 Arbutus. 
 
 Under the snow 
 
 I thrill and glow, 
 A gentle hand will find me; 
 
 A tender lip 
 
 My breath will sip, 
 In a posy rare she'll bind me, % 
 
 Blood Root. 
 Still, still and white 
 Through the chill Spring night 
 I long for the light. 
 
 Dandelion. 
 Hardy and cheerful, I come to stay, 
 Now, merry children, run out to play. 
 
 Hej^atica. 
 
 I almost thought 
 
 That I was caught. 
 That the robins did not mean it; 
 
 But I have heard 
 
 One real blue bird, 
 With my very eyes I've seen it. 
 
 Aneinone. 
 
 I heard it, too, 
 
 I will come with you, * 
 
 Dear sturdy little neighbor; 
 
 How sweet to hear. 
 
 Afar and near. 
 The sound of Springtime labor. 
 
58 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Cowslip. 
 
 I am ready and waiting, but don't forget 
 That my yellow cups are fond of the wet. 
 
 Innocents. 
 
 We feel the throb of Mother Earth's breast, 
 Our lowliness breathes of peace and rest. 
 
 Yiolets. 
 
 If blue is true and purity white, 
 
 Why should we not be your hearts' delight. 
 
 Jack-in— tlie-Pul'pit. 
 
 You will all find my text, my brethren good, 
 On every leaf in the field and wood; 
 And the text is the sermon, you need not stay, 
 You will have the more time to praise and pray. 
 
 Bog- Wood, 
 These are the young year's gala days, 
 When the Maiden Earth light-hearted plays. < 
 
 Buttercup, 
 
 By the look of your chins I rather doubt 
 If Moolly's butter will quite hold out. 
 
 Glovier. 
 Oome, honey-bee, now is your harvest time. 
 
 Daisy, 
 Come, maidens, weave me a mystic rhyme. 
 
WOKK AND PLAY. 59 
 
 Columbine. 
 
 " Sweets to the sweet," my loves, 
 Good temper's a gem, my doves. 
 
 Laurel. 
 Oh ! pure is the breath of my mountain air, 
 But the vale with the mountain, too, must share, 
 My daintiness so fair. 
 
 Swamp Pink. 
 The drip of an oar, 
 A bend in the shore. 
 And the spoilers are upon me. 
 
 Pond Lily. 
 
 They have found me out, 
 And the victor's shout 
 Told how joyfully they won me. 
 
 Blue Flag. 
 
 My pennons the line of the marshland trace. 
 
 Wild Pose. 
 
 The wayside loves my gentle face. 
 
 Cardinal Floioer. 
 
 Here's a fete in progress down by the brook. 
 If red is your color, pray come and look. 
 
 Golden Pod. 
 Passing? 'Tis true, 
 But what would you do? 
 Sit down and pine and mope? 
 
60 WOKK AND PLAY. 
 
 Aster. 
 
 Nay, purple and gold 
 Are the tokens old 
 Of a royal life and hope. 
 
 Ge?itian. 
 
 Blue as October's own blue sky, 
 Smiling we breath, " good-by, good-by." 
 
 Witch Hazel. 
 
 The hand of Nature its cunning keeps 
 Though under the frost November sleeps. 
 
 ALPHABET, THE CONJUROR. 
 
 A is for Alphabet, Conjuror old; 
 
 B, for the books tha£ his marvels unfold. 
 
 C, for cute Children all eager to read, 
 
 D, for the Drones that will never give heed. 
 E is Endeavor that opens the door, 
 
 F is the Fairyland learners explore. 
 
 G, for the Giants whose knowledge is might, 
 
 H, for the Heroes that grim error fight. 
 
 I, for Intelligence, always awake, 
 
 J, for the Jewels no robber can take; 
 
 KL, for the Kingdom whose throne is the mind, 
 
 Li is for Letters, the pride of mankind. 
 
 M, Memory fastens the Conjuror's spell. 
 
 N, Nature has no end of secrets to tell. 
 
 O is the Order that science maintains, 
 
 P, Poetry weaving its magical chains. 
 
WORK AND PLAY* 61 
 
 Q, Questions that spring up on every side. 
 Fl, Reading that opens fair prospects and wide. 
 S, Study, the Conjuror's sturdiest elf; 
 T, Tasks that he joyously sets for liimself. 
 U, Usefulness, waving the Conjuror's wand. 
 
 V is variety, learning's fine bond. 
 
 W, Wisdom, the crown and the end. v 
 
 X., Xenophon, Alphabet's ancient friend. 
 
 Y is for Youth, the old Conjuror's pet. 
 
 Z, Zeal that makes grey beards the long hours forget. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 F.^T^rr XX. 
 
 WINTER AND SPRING. 
 
 A PANTOMIME. 
 
 Winter has a very red nose and white hair and 
 beard. He wears a long surtout, having faint patches 
 of raw cotton attached to it for snow. On his head is 
 a sealskin cap, and around his neck a worsted scarf. 
 He carries a string of sleigh-bells and a pair of skates, 
 and drags a sled after him. Slung over one shoulder 
 is a strap having a pair of bellows hanging from it 
 under the other ^rm. 
 
 He blusters across the stage and looks about fiercely. 
 Then Spring peeps in timidly at one side. She wears 
 a dull grey dress, with a thin green veil flying about 
 her head and shoulders. When she first appears Win- 
 ter has his back turned toward her. He fidgets and 
 pulls at his scarf, then turns suddenly and confronts 
 Spring, who makes a courtesy and advances doubt- 
 fully to meet him. He frowns awfully, jingles his 
 sleigh-bells, clatters his skates and sled, and, seizing 
 the bellows, blows furiously at Spring, who retreats 
 
 out of sight. 
 
 (63) 
 
64 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Winter ties his scarf, nods at the audience, and sits 
 down on the sled to put on his skates. Just as he is 
 strapping the second one. Spring, wearing a green 
 scarf, slips in at the other side, and, leaning over hi? 
 shoulders, tickles his nose with a budding branch. He 
 springs up, loses his balance, and falls sprawling. 
 Spring dances lightly around him, waving her branch 
 in triumph, till he gathers himself up and blows her 
 off the stage again. 
 
 Winter then jerks off his scarf, takes off the skates 
 and puts them in a bag, stands the sled on end, and 
 is looking about for a place to hang up the sleigh- 
 bells, when Spring re-enters with a light wreath of 
 green leayes on her head, and a few spring flowers in 
 her hand. She wears a large green apron, in which she 
 holds something concealed. She throws a kiss at 
 Winter and waves him off, shaking her hand for good- 
 by. He smiles and shakes his head, but coaxingly 
 beckons her to come to him. Pretending he cannot 
 unbutton his surtout, he motions for her to help him; 
 but when she pulls at the sleeves to take it off alto- 
 gether. Winter resists, nips the leaves of the wreath, 
 and blows at the flowers now in her belt. The flowers 
 drop, but Spring stands her ground, and keeps blow- 
 ing kisses at winter, whereat he becomes uneasy and 
 throws open his surtout as wide as possible. Spring 
 watches for an unguarded moment, and pulls off one 
 sleeve of the coat, which drags on the floor. Winter 
 holds fast to the other sleeve, moving slowly away, 
 while Spring produces from her apron balls of dande- 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 65 
 
 lions, violets, and other spring flowers, with which she 
 pelts him so fast that in dodging the missiles, he lets 
 the overcoat and bellows fall oif with a clatter. He 
 pulls off his Cap, wipes his brow, and still retreats, 
 shaking his fist at Spring, who draws some fruit blos- 
 soms from her apron and shakes them menacingly in 
 his very face. 
 
 He sniffs contemptuously at them, then suddenly 
 staggers back and reels off the stage. 
 
 Spring makes a mocking courtesy to his retreating 
 figure. Then she throws her balls of flowers right and 
 left among the audience, and the curtain falls upon 
 her smiling and kissing her hands. 
 
 Artificial flowers can be used for this pantomime, 
 but it will be much prettier if performed when the 
 natural flowers are to be had. Should no tree or shrub 
 be late enough to furnish the budding branch at. that 
 time, any branch, stripped of its green leaves, might 
 
 CHARADE— BANDAGE. 
 
 First Scene: Band. 
 Characters: Tommy Jones, Will and Sam Page, 
 Charles May, Joe and Fred Stanton. 
 Scene: Mrs. Stanton's dining-room, around the table 
 of which the boys are sitting and looking at pictures 
 and sketching with colored pencils. Joe, the oldest, 
 is twelve years old; Tommy, the youngest, seven. The 
 ages of the rest range between. 
 
(^Q WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Tommy [Throwing down his pencil]. — I'm tired 
 of this. What was that good fun you were going to 
 tell us, Joe? 
 
 tToe. — Oh! yes, the very thing! Say! boys, let's 
 perform a concert like Gilmore. 
 
 J3oys. — Oh, yes! Let's. 
 
 Sam,. — What shall we perform it on? 
 
 Joe. — I'll be the leader and furnish the instruments. 
 
 Joe leaves the room, and soon comes back with a 
 drum, a tin horn, two dust-pans, a mouth-organ, and a 
 large tin funnel. Sam has the drum, Will the dust- 
 pans, Tomm}"- the mouth-organ, Charles the tin horn, 
 Fred the funnel. 
 
 Tomtny. — What are you going to play on, Joe? 
 
 Joe. — Nothing, you simple! I am going to lead. 
 
 Fred. — You can't lead without white gloves and a 
 white neck -tie, and a swallow-tail coat. 
 
 Joe. — No, of course I can't. Let me see. Uncle 
 Ed. has a whole drawer full of old party gloves, and 
 he won't care if I borrow his swallow-tail. Tune your 
 instruments, gentlemen. 
 
 While Joe is gone for his costume, Fred covers a 
 pocket-comb with paper, and, holding it to the small 
 end of the funnel, plays Sweet Home. Will experi- 
 ments with the dust-pans and decides to strike their 
 backs together, first at the handles and then at the 
 outer edge. Charles toots Yankee Doodle on the 
 horn, Tommy blows the mouth-organ, and Sam rolls 
 the drum. 
 
 Joe returns, wearing a white cravat and a dress 
 
WORK AND PLAY. (»7 
 
 coat and white kid gloves much too large for him. 
 He has several sheets of music which he distributes 
 to the boys. 
 
 Will. — What a swell leader! 
 
 «7be [Looking severe, and tapping with a cane on 
 the back of the high chair on which he places his 
 music] . — Order ! 
 
 The musicians, except the drummer, sit astride with 
 their faces toward the backs of the chairs against which 
 they stand their music. 
 
 Joe. — The Star Spangled Banner, gentlemen. " Oh! 
 say can you," will be played as a duet by the funnel — 
 ahem! the trombone and French horn, and the rest 
 will come in like blazes — ahem; fortissimo on " see," 
 and on "light." Let the " rockets red glare " be spirited, 
 and the "bombs bursting in air " perfectly tremen- 
 dous, crescendo, sforzmdo, prestidigitando! 
 
 They play according to the leader's directions. 
 When they reach " the bombs bursting in air," the 
 dining-room door opens, and May Stanton appears with 
 her fingers in her ears. 
 
 May [Laughing]. — Mother wants to know what in 
 the world you are doing. Don't you know you can't 
 make such a horrible noise in the jaouse? You have 
 spoiled grandmother's nap, and frightened the baby. 
 Second Scene: Age. 
 
 Place: The Stantgn play-room. Characters: The 
 same as those of the first scene, with May Stanton and 
 Alice and Nellie Jones. 
 
 Joe. — The baby's all right now; but I forgot about 
 grandmother, that's a fact. 
 
68 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Will.— She's awful old, isn't she? 
 
 Mai/. — She is very old, but she isn't a bit awful; and 
 she only laughed when she woke up and heard that 
 dreadful concert right under her. 
 
 Joe. — Why she can remember long before there 
 were any railroads, and when there was a war with 
 England, and a year when it snowed in June. She is 
 e'lghty-jive. 
 
 Polly. — I'm iixie., going on six. 
 
 Will. — Are you? What can you remember? 
 
 Polly. — 1 can 'member "Twinkle, twinkle, little 
 star," and " Now I lay me." Can't I, May? 
 
 They all laugh, and May kisses Polly. 
 
 Third Scene: Whole Word. 
 
 Place and characters the same as those of the second 
 scene. 
 
 May. — I'll tell you what to play, Blind Man's BuiF. 
 
 All. — ^Yes! yes! 
 
 Polly. — Let me be the Blind Man. 
 
 Nellie. — Yes, let her. 
 
 M^y ties her handkerchief over Polly's eyes. 
 
 Polly. — I can't see! 
 
 Alice. — What a funny Blind Man! 
 
 Polly.— It's too. tight! 
 
 Minnie, winking at the rest, loosens the handker- 
 chief, which slips down on Polly's nose, as soon as she 
 begins to run. 
 
 Polly. — I can see too much! 
 
 They all laugh, and run up to Polly to be caught. 
 She clutches right and left, but they escape. Finally 
 she totters and sits down on the floor, laughing, the 
 handkerchief hanging around her neck. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. GO 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 A TABLEAU. 
 
 A room decorated with Christmas -wreaths and fes- 
 toons. Three little stockings — a red, a blue, and a 
 pink one — hanging by the mantelpiece. Santa Clau^ 
 in the act of filling them. He is very short, and h) 
 has a jolly red face, white hair, and great rotundity of 
 figure. He wears a fur coat and cap dashed with snow 
 (raw cotton), and carries a large lighted lantern, 
 trimmed with sprigs of holly. His pack is full of all 
 sorts of toys. A doll's head peeps from the top of one 
 stocking, a tin trumpet and a whip from another, and 
 Santa Ciaus is just putting a toy dog in the third 
 Sleds, skates, picture books, and a little doll's trunk 
 are placed near the stockings. The light should be 
 managed so as to come from the fire-place, aided only 
 by the lantern. A Christmas carol sung behind the 
 scene, will add to the effect. 
 
 Christmas Morning. 
 
 The same scene by the liorht of two candles on the 
 mantelpiece. Tnree little children, in night clothes, 
 with tumbled hair, standing in different attitudes of 
 surprise and delight, having touched nothing as yet. 
 
 FAMlLr CARES. 
 
 A 3IINIATURE. 
 
 Mrs. Montagu, aged about ten years, wearing the 
 dress of an older sister, tucked up in front, and trailing 
 behind, and a cap made of an embroidered handerchief 
 
70 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 is surrounded by a family of six dolls. Two of the 
 dolls are in bed, one is in Mrs. Montagu's lap, one sits 
 in a chair, and two are on the floor. To her enters 
 Mrs. Mackintosh, similarly arrayed in a long dress, and 
 wearing bonnet, cloak and gloves. 
 
 3frs. Mont. — Good morning, Mrs. Mackintosh; this 
 is really kind of you to drop in and enliven my soli- 
 tude. 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — Solitude. My dear, if you call this 
 solitude, where will you find society? 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — Oh! well, servitude, then; for if ever 
 there was a bond slave, I have been one, since these 
 children came down with the measles. 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — Ah! when did they come down, poor 
 dears? 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — Day before yesterday, and Araminta 
 here is getting them now, I am sure, she is so miser- 
 able and fretful. 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — How many kinds have they? 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — Oh! all three, of course — English, 
 French and German. I hope to Patience the doctors 
 won't invent — I mean discover — any more kinds. 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — Who is your doctor? 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — Dr. S. Ruloypius. We have always 
 had him, and I should not be willing to trust any one 
 else. He is so judicious, so sympathetic, and so — 
 cute! He knows just as well as I do when we need 
 to be sent away from home for a change, and he never 
 uses any remedies that are worse than the disease. 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — Dr. Hipp might learn a few things of 
 him, but I couldn't persuade Mr. Mackintosh of that 
 He thinks the sun rises and sets in Dr. Hipp. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 71 
 
 Mrs. Mont. [Administering a dose to each of the 
 children in bed]. — There! that will make them feel 
 better, so it will! [Then turning to Mrs. Mack.] As 
 if it weren't enough to have these children sick, the 
 cook had to leave in a huff yesterday, so my waitress 
 has to do her work, and the nurse has to take the 
 waitress' place, temporarily; so, you see, I am in a fix. 
 Then I am expecting company to-morrow, and a 
 dressmaker Friday and Saturday, and the new minis- 
 ter is to stay with as over Sunday. The house clean- 
 ing ought to be begun at once, and when I shall do 
 the spring shopping at this rate, I'm sure I don't 
 know. 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — For my part, T haven't r.he heart to 
 think of spring shopping, or anything else. 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — My dear! what is the matter? Here I 
 have been going on in this egotistical way without 
 noticing how you look. [With a meaning smile] — I 
 hope nothing is wrong with your interesting family? 
 How are they all? How are Fluffie and Poodie, and 
 P*uo-gie and Canary Dick, and Polly Parrot and Pussy 
 Pinky, and — and — Mr. Mackintosh. 
 
 Mrs, Mack. — Oh! Mr. Mackintosh is well, but Fluffie 
 had two convulsions yesterday, and I sat up half the 
 nio-ht with the poor little thing. It was too pathetic 
 to hear her moan= She is a little better this mornir g 
 and I came out partly to ask old Mrs. McFadden what 
 more I could do for her. 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — She is a pure Silver Skye, isn't she? 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — Yes, and so cunning, and sweet, and 
 
73 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 stylish! Why! 1 shall be absolutely melancholy if I 
 lose her. She has the best manners and the tenderest 
 sensibilities! [Wiping her eyes.] 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — Don't, my dear. I'm sure she will get 
 well. What did you give her? 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — Anise-seed tea, and soaked her feet 
 in warm orange-flower water. Then I laid her on my 
 eider-down pufF, and covered her with a white zephyr 
 shawl. Oh! she's better, but I have been so shaken! 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — No doubt, poor dear! But how are 
 the rest? Has that mischievous Puggie been playing 
 any more pranks? 
 
 Mrs. Mach. [Brightening]. — Did I tell you about 
 the fishing-tackle and the specimens? 
 
 Mrs. Mont.—^o] what was it? 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — Why, you must know that Puggie and 
 Pinky Pussie have grown to be great friends lately, 
 and more's the pity; for what one doesn't think of the 
 other does, and such messes as they have made! 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — But what did they want with fishing- 
 tackle and specimens? What kind of specimens? 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — Why, some queer fishy and squirming 
 things that Mr. Mackintosh caught in South America 
 last year. He had them in jars in spirits, and he doted 
 on them. Ugh! the horrid things! Well, he had lots 
 of fine fishing-tackle all out on the table of his den, 
 and two of the precious jars were standing there, too. 
 He had had them out showing them to Prof. Prig the 
 night before, and then they got so deep in some of 
 their other dry stuff, that he actually came away with- 
 out putting the things up. The door must have been 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 73 
 
 left ajar somehow, and Pinky and Pug got in there, 
 and oh! [burstings into laughter, in which Mrs. Mont- 
 ague joins] what a piece of work they made! They 
 played with the fishing-lines till they pulled the jars 
 off the table, and then they were afraid of the " sar- 
 pints ", and tried to ran away. The fishing-tackle 
 was twisted all around them, and they barked, and. 
 spit, and yawled; and when I went to find out what 
 the fuss was, you never saw two dears more delighted 
 than they were to see me. 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — What did Mr. Mackintosh say? 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — Mr. Mackintosh never swears. He 
 thinks it is wrong; but — well! if you will believe it, 
 he was angry at me! Fancy it! Men are so queer! 
 Why, when Pug chewed up my lace bonnet, I asked 
 my husband for some money for sundries, and went 
 and got another; but you would have thought there 
 were no more snakes and fishing-tackle in the world, 
 to hear him go on. 
 
 Mrs. Mont. — Did you ever! 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — And since then I have to keep the poor 
 darlings very close, and it wears upon them. I ought 
 to be at home this minute to give them a little airing. 
 Oh! you may talk about family cares; no one knows 
 what mine are! But I must go. [Rises to leave.] 
 
 Mrs. Mo7it. — Good-by. Come again, soon. ^ 
 
 Mrs. Mack. — Good-by. I hope you little folks 
 will soon be quite well. 
 
74 WORK AXD PLAY. 
 
 CHARADE— HAMMOCK. 
 
 First Scene: Ham* 
 
 Characters: Mary and her little friend Lnc}'^ learn- 
 ing a lesson from the same Primary Geography. To 
 them enters Tom, Mary's older brother. 
 
 Mary. — Let me hear you say your's now, and see if 
 you know it. 
 
 Lucy, — No, wait; I only know the White, and Yel- 
 low, and Black. 
 
 Mary. — Well, hurry up. I know all five. 
 
 Lucy continues to study about three minutes, mov- 
 ing her lips ve?y fast, and staring at the ceiling a part 
 of the time. Then Mary seizes the book. 
 
 Mary. — There! you must know it by this time; and 
 if we don't huriy and learn our spelling, we sha'n't be 
 through by the time my lovely birthday present comes. 
 Papa will bring it out on the five o'clock train. 
 
 Lucy. — What is it? 
 
 Mary, — I don't know. It's going to be a s'prlse — 
 
 Lucy, — Oh gay! gay! make haste with your old 
 races. 
 
 Mary [Reading from the Geography]. — "How are 
 all the people of the world divided?" 
 
 Lucy. — The people of the woild are all divided up. 
 
 Mary, — No, no! not up! 
 
 Lucy. — Well, then, into — divided into five principal 
 races, named according to their color, and — and — 
 where they b've. 
 
 Mary. — " Name the five races in the world." 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 75 
 
 Lucy. — The five races are, the White, or Caucasian ; 
 the Yellow, or Mongolian; the Black, or — 
 
 Here Tom, Mary's older brother, enters, and looking 
 very wise, takes the geography from her hand. 
 
 Tom. — Allow me to continue the examination. I 
 fear this is rather superficial. From whom, young 
 ladies, d d the fit st branch that left their ancient homes, 
 the North Africans, or Cushites, descend? 
 
 Mary. — That isn't in the book, Tom, and you are 
 just bothering-. 
 
 Tom. — The first branch descended from a son of the 
 worthy Noah. This son was the father of Cush and 
 Canaan, hence Cushites. Now, the name of this great 
 ancestor of the Cushites you must certainly know. It 
 is a name — 
 
 Mary. — Oh, Tom! I don't care what it is. It isn't in 
 the book, and 3'ou'll make us late. 
 
 Tom. — Late for what, pray? 
 
 Mary, — Why papa is going to bring my birthday 
 present out on the five o'clock train, and we are going 
 to learn our spelling lesson before he comes, so I can 
 be all ready to enjoy my s'prise. 
 
 Tom. — In that case, young ladies, the scientific ex- 
 position of the races must yield to the — the " s'prise." 
 Second Syllable: Mock. 
 
 Scene and Characters the same as those of the first 
 syllable. Mary and Lucy are studying their spell ng 
 lesson from separate books. ' Mary is seated with her 
 face toward Tom, who pretends at first to occupy him- 
 self with a magazine. Lucy sits with her back toward 
 him. 
 
76 WOEK AND PLAY. 
 
 As soon as Lucy gets to the point of rolling hei 
 eyes to the ceiling, and moving her lips very fast, Tom 
 begins to mimic her, exaggerating her motions. This 
 soon attracts the attention of Mary, who has much ado 
 to keep from laughing aloud. Lucy, wholly absorbed, 
 alternately bends her eyes to her book, and raises 
 them to the ceiling, swaying her body backward and 
 forward, and keeping her lips moving incessantly. 
 Finally Mary giggles outright, and the scene ends. 
 Third Scene. — Whole Woed. 
 
 Characters: Tom, Mary and Lucy all laughing to- 
 gether. To them enters at once John, Mary's six-year- 
 old brother. 
 
 tTohn. — O, Mary! mother says she's sorry, awful, and 
 papa's had to go to New York on a telegram without 
 your birthday present. 
 
 Lucy. — Tom, do people ride on telegrams? 
 
 Tom. — Never! They have to go on them sometimes, 
 though. 
 
 Mary. — He wasn't going to take my birthday pres- 
 ent to New York, anyhow. 
 
 Tom. — How's that Johnny? • 
 
 John. — Why, he can't come home to-night, and 
 Marj^ can't have her present till to-morrow, or some- 
 time. 
 
 Mary and Lucy look rueful. 
 
 Tom.. — What a mournful s'prise. Nevermind. Pusg 
 Lknow what it is to be. It was just ^oo nice! Oh! 
 lovely! Don't you want to guess, and see how neai 
 you can get to it? 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 77 
 
 Mary. — Was it to eat? 
 
 Lucy. — To wear? 
 
 Tom.—^o. 
 
 Mary. — To read? 
 
 Tom. — No. It's something to have out of cloors in 
 fine weather. 1. 
 
 Mary. — He said I was too little for lawn tennis. 
 
 Tom. — You are not too little for this, and if you live 
 to be as old as I am — ahem! — you will be too big for ^ 
 it. 
 
 Mary. — He said he couldn't afford a pony phaeton. 
 
 Tom. — It isn't that. Miss Marjorie Daw had one, 
 and she made great use of it. 
 
 Lucy. — " Sold her bed and laid upon straw." 
 
 Tom. — Not that one; Mr. Aldrich's Marjorie Daw. 
 
 Mary. — What, that make-believe girl I heard you 
 and Fanny laughing about? I don't know what she 
 had. 
 
 Tom. — Painful ignorance. Well, then, the " Sailor 
 Boy;" "In slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay. 
 His" — his — mu8t I tell you? 
 
 Mary. — Oh! I know! How splendid! It will have 
 red stripes, I hope, and we will have it down by my 
 playhouse. 
 
 Lucy. — O, Mary! don't you wish it was to-morrow? 
 
 Tom. — " Or sometime." 
 
78 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS. 
 
 A PANTOMIME. 
 
 Henry, six years old, and Charles, eight, are playing 
 in a nursery. Henry has just built, with great pains, 
 a fine tall castle of blocks. Charles, in maneuvering 
 with his rocking-horse, which is very spirited and re- 
 .fractory, upsets the castle and the builder. 
 
 Henry rubs his knees and his eyes alternately, and 
 silently whimpers. Charles rubs Henry's head and 
 makes pacifying motions. Then an idea strikes him 
 and he points to a shelf where there are several books 
 piled up. He reaches up and tries to draw out an 
 under one, which is a large picture book, to amuse 
 Charles. Before he gets it down an old Geography, in 
 which every leaf* is loose, tumbles from the top of the 
 pile, thumping Charles on the head with its cover and 
 showering the leaves all over him. As he starts back, 
 rubbing his head, he upsets a pitcher of flowers on a 
 sma,ll stand behind him. Charles snatches something 
 from the stand and begins to mop up the water as it 
 runs along the floor. 
 
 Here enters Nellie, ten years old. She opens her 
 mouth and eyes very wide and raises her hands at sight 
 of the confusion. Then she suddenly darts at Charles, 
 snatches his mop from his hand, and holds up to view 
 a doll's dress. She looks at Charles with an expres- 
 sion of " Now you see what you have done!" and turns 
 away from him in a huff. 
 
 At that instant Henry sneezes three times. Charles 
 and Nellie turn to behold him standing on a chair un- 
 
WORK a:nd play. 79 
 
 der the book-shelf, completely covered with white 
 powder. In his attempts to get the picture-book for 
 himself he has upset the baby's powder-box, which 
 stood on the shelf by the books. Nellie laughs si- 
 lently, holding her sides. Charles lies down on the 
 floor and covers his face with his hands and shakes. 
 
 Here Julia, aged twelve, enters the room backward, 
 with her work-basket in her hand, and she is drawing 
 a little rocking chair after her. She stumbles at a 
 block, drops her work-basket, the contents of which 
 roll over the prostrate Charles. Julia turns, and, with 
 one glance at the occupants of the room, drops help- 
 lessly toward the rocking-chair. She just misses it 
 and slides to the floor. 
 
 GRANDFATHER AND BILLY. 
 
 A boy of twelve, with a white wig, spectacles and 
 a long coat, personates Grandfather. He is sitting, 
 and leaning on a cane. His voice must be as deep 
 as possible. Billy is six years old. 
 
 Grand. — Well, Billy, what did you learn at your 
 new-fangled school to-day? 
 
 Billy. — Oh! forms and tolors [with a great effort] 
 colors, I mean, and a little moddle-ing. 
 
 Grand. — " Forms, and tolors, and muddle-ing!" 
 Sus! What lessons! And no a-b, abs, child? 
 
 JMlly. — I don't know what they are. 
 
 Grand. — ^What! don't know a-b, ab; e-b, eb; i-b. 
 
80 
 
 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 ib; o-b, ob; u-b, ub? [He drones them off in a mono- 
 tone.] Well, Master Seavey would have had them into 
 your head before this. Don't you even know your let- 
 ters, you advanced young heathen? [He pulls Billy 
 playfully by the ear.] 
 
 Billy. — 'Course I know great A, little a, bouncing 
 B, and round O, and crooked S, and — and — sometimes 
 W and Y. I heard Minnie learning sometimes W 
 and Y last night, and she showed 'em to me. 
 
 Grand. — I should like to know what kind of a mas- 
 ter you have, anyhow. What is his name? 
 
 Billy. — It isn't a tnan. It's a nice young lady, Miss 
 Nellie. 
 
 Grand. — Oh! I see; hum — ^just the one to teach 
 forms, and tolors, and muddle-ing. 
 
 JBilly. — -Moddle-mg^ Grandpa, not muddle-ing. We 
 don't do it with mud. We have nice clean clay, and 
 make things. 
 
 Grand. — What did you "moddle " to-day? 
 
 Billy. — I finished my cube, and then I made a lamb, 
 but it wasn't a good lamb. 
 
 Grand. — What was the matter with it? 
 
 Billy. — Its tail was too big. Miss Nellie said I 
 must notice a live lamb next time I saw one, and see 
 how much smaller his tail is than his body. I am go- 
 ing to. I wish you would bring me a lamb the next 
 time you come down. Grandpa. 
 
 Grand. [Chuckling]. — Yes, and have him educated 
 at your school. Do you ever " moddle " calves? 
 
 Billy. — No, we have to do cubes, and pound 'em, 
 and spat 'em till they are just as right! 
 
WORK AND PLAT. 81 
 
 Grand. — What is a cube? 
 
 Billy — It's a form, you know; a fundy mental form. 
 [Nods his head very hard at " fundy " and " mental ".] 
 
 Grand. [Highly amused]. — Oh! what does it look 
 like? 
 
 Hilly. — Why, a letter-block without any letter on. 
 It has faces, and edges, and corners. 
 
 Grand. [Opening his eyes wide]. — Faces, edges 
 and corners! How many faces? 
 
 Billy. — Six. 
 
 Grand. — How many corners? 
 
 Billy.— ^ight. 
 
 Grand. — How many edges? 
 
 Billy — Eigh — no, twelve. 
 
 Grand. [With a twinkle in his eye]. — Is it good to 
 eat? [Produces a chocotate caramel.] 
 
 Billy takes the caramel and prepares to make a 
 practical answer to Grandpa's last question. 
 
 Grand. — ^Wait! Tell as about colors, first. 
 
 Billy. [Peeling the paper off the chocolate cube]. 
 — Red, yellow, blue 
 
 Here the caramel, which is a large one, disappears, 
 and the examination is at an end. 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 
 
 A TABLEAU. 
 
 A pair of rocking horses with sleigh-bells around 
 theii necks; behind them two arm-chairs laid down on 
 
82 
 
 WOKK AND PLAY. 
 
 their backs on the floor, so that the seat of the rear one 
 furnishes a high back to the back seat of this impro- 
 vised sleigh, and the front one in the same way forms 
 the reverse seat. On the foremost top round of tha 
 front chair perches a very small driver in coat, cap and 
 gloves. He holds a whip in his hand, and his reins 
 are knit of bright colored zephyrs. 
 
 On the back seat of the sleigh are two tiny ladies, 
 dressed for a cold drive, in shawls, hoods, and veils. 
 On the front seat are two little gentlemen, in hats and 
 coats too large for them. Several dolls' heads peep 
 from under the wraps. 
 
 CHARADE— RANSACK. 
 
 First Syllable: Ran. 
 
 Scene: A sitting-room. Characters: Lily and Fanny, 
 seven and eleven years of age. Fanny sits reading^ 
 when Lily enters quite breathless from running, and 
 throws herself down on the sofa. 
 
 Fanny. — Lilly Bates! It was only this morning 
 mamma told you you mustn't do so. You'll have that 
 dreadful rash all over you again. 
 
 Lily. — I can't help it! I was 'frairl. 
 
 Fanny.— W^s it " a big 'ffaid," or « a little 'fraid "? 
 
 Lily, — I was only a little 'fraid at first when the pug 
 dog ran out at me, and just as I was trying to get out 
 of his way, that great big large black dog came round 
 the house, and all but just knocked me down [half 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 83 
 
 crying], and I couldn't get Alice to come over here for 
 something 'portant that we were going to do. 
 
 Fanny. — She'll come all the same, if she promised. 
 Never mind! 
 
 Lily. — But I forgot to tell her the 'portantest thing, 
 and she won't bring it. 
 
 Second Syllable: Sack. 
 
 Scene and Characters the same as those of the first 
 syllable, with the addition of Alice Jones, eight years 
 old. 
 
 Enter Alice. 
 
 Alice. — Good morning. 
 
 Lily. — Oh! good morning, Alice. I was going over 
 to ask you something about that thing — you know — 
 
 Fanny. — And " the big 'fraid and the little 'fraid " 
 got after her, and she came back faster than she went, 
 
 Alice.—''' Big 'fraid and little 'fraid"? 
 
 Fanny. — The two dogs. 
 
 Alice. — What? Prim and Rex? They wont bite. 
 
 Lily. — What makes 'em run after folks, then? 
 
 Alice. — They want to play. We play with them 
 lots. 
 
 LAly. — I don't like to be smelt of and most knocked 
 down. 
 
 Fanny and Alice laugh. Then Lily and Alice whis- 
 per together a while. Fanny looks amused. She 
 takes her book, and leaves the room. 
 
 Lily. — You see, 1 don't want Fanny to know, 'cause 
 I don't want Nellie to know till it's all done. Can you 
 cut one out? 
 
84 WOKK AND PLA.T. 
 
 Alice. — Mamma gave me a cunning little pattern 
 that she kept the last time she dressed Cleopatra Mac- 
 beth, my tallest doll. 
 
 X^7y. — Will it be too large for Elizabeth Eliza? 
 
 Alice. — Let's try and see. I brought Cleopatra's to 
 try on her. 
 
 Lily. — That's just what I wanted to ask you. 
 
 Lily brings a doll, and Alice puts on it a blue sack 
 that she takes from her pocket. 
 
 Alice. — There ! It is only a seam too large, and the 
 sleeves are a little too long. 
 
 Lily. — Lovely! 
 
 Alice. — Now let's lay the pattern on your stuff, and 
 see if there is enough. 
 
 Lily. — Well, you see; I can't. 
 
 Alice turns the pattern about in various ways, on 
 some blue pieces, holding her head first on one side 
 and then on the other, and biting her lips. 
 
 Alice. — It's too bad. There isn't enough. 
 
 Lily. — Oh! and mamma's away. What shall we do! 
 And to-morrow is Elizabeth Eliza's birthday, and I 
 wanted to s'prise Nellie. 
 
 Alice. — Ask Fanny. May be she has something. 
 She wont tell. Big girls are ashamed to tell. 
 
 Lily. — Well, you wait. 
 
 Whole Word. 
 
 Scene and Characters the same as those of second 
 syllable. 
 
 Enter Lily, dragging a large piece-bag after her. 
 She returns to the entry, aud drags in another one. 
 
WOEK AND PLAY. 83 
 
 Lily. — Fanny says there are some pink pieces in one 
 of these bags, or else in that box [pointing to a covered 
 box at the side of the room], and we can have them, 
 she knows, for she heard mamma say they would do 
 for dolls' things. 
 
 Alice. — Well, you look in the bags, and I'll take the 
 box. 
 
 They fall to work, opening all the larger rolls of 
 pieces, and spreading their contents out for fear of 
 missing the precious pink scraps. When both bags 
 and the box have been thoroughly overhauled without 
 finding them, and the girls are looking at each other 
 in despair, Fanny enters with the missing roll in her 
 hand. 
 
 Fanny. — Lily Bates! what a looking room! What 
 are you doing? 
 
 Lily. — Looking for the pink pieces, and they aren't 
 here. 
 
 Fanny. — I found them in the entry just now. They 
 must have fallen out of the bag as you dragged it 
 along. 
 
 Alice. — O — oh! what a spite! Now it will take all 
 the rest of the time to put the pieces back. 
 
 Fanny. — Oh! no. I'll help. 
 
 MOTHER FAIRY. 
 
 The smallest girls that- can perform the parts should 
 be selected. Their dress is as airy and light as possi- 
 ble, and gauze and tarletan wings shaped with wire 
 
86 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 are fastened to their shoulders. Each has a small 
 wand covered with silver or gilt paper. Mother Fairy 
 has white hair, peeping from a high, fantastic cap, and 
 a very long wand. 
 
 The scene opens with Mother Fairy alone, waving 
 her wand. 
 
 Mother Fairy. 
 
 The moth is abroad. 
 
 And the glowworm alight; 
 
 The shimmering stars 
 Of the summer night 
 
 Are all at their tryst; 
 It was time I wist 
 To summon each wandering sprite. 
 
 [Enter on the right: Peach Blossom, Thistle Down, Morn 
 ing Glory, Mustard Seed; on the left: Baby's Breath, Maiden 
 Hair, Bell Pepper, and Mignonnette.] 
 
 Mother Fairy. 
 
 Now, welcome! each fay, 
 
 Yonr tidings, 1 pray; 
 
 Let us hope you have all spent a very good day. 
 
 [Mother Fairy touches each one successively with her hand, 
 and as she does so, the fairy indicated gives her report of the 
 day.] 
 
 Peach Blossom. 
 Three boys — no matter, 
 
 They are all tlie same; 
 There is no occasion 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 87 
 
 For place or for name — 
 Three boys 
 Were munching some hard green peaches. 
 The father, the doctor, 
 
 The mother, the nurse, 
 Had said they musn't. 
 " So much the worse!" 
 They cried, 
 "We will! no matter who preaches?" 
 
 So they sat munching. 
 
 Thinks I, " You just wait!" 
 I watched the number 
 That every one ate, 
 Six, nine, 
 Ten!-^" What makes us feel so sleepy?" 
 Then I concocted, 
 
 Of kernels and pits, 
 A jam productive 
 Of horrible fits. 
 
 Shakes, quakes, 
 Moans, groans, and everything creepy. 
 
 I made them take it 
 And swallow it all. 
 Such writhing, gasping, 
 Did never befall 
 Three boys 
 Before, in truth or in seeming. 
 And when they waken 
 They feebly pipe, 
 
88 WORK AND PLAT. 
 
 " Look here! those peaches 
 Were not over-ripe, 
 Perhaps, 
 Or else we have all been dreaming." 
 
 Mother Fairy. 
 Aha! perhaps they had all been dreaming! 
 Bell Pepper, 
 Little Miss Caroline 
 
 Would suck her thumb, 
 Coaxing and threatening, 
 Punishing some. 
 Had no effect on Miss Caroline. 
 
 Hear how I cured her, though, 
 
 Pat as could be. 
 Whispered in Nursey's ear, 
 " Red pepper tea, 
 That's the best thing for Miss Caroline." 
 
 Nurse soaked the naughty thumb,- 
 
 Girl fast asleep — 
 Every one kept quite mum. 
 Secret to keep 
 Way from the stubborn Miss Caroline. 
 
 Next time the thumb v^ent in, 
 
 Out it came quick, 
 Puzzled Miss Caroline 
 Said she was sick. 
 Thumb lost its charms for Miss Caroline. 
 
WOEK AND PLAY. 89 
 
 Mother Fairy, 
 Oh! don't be too hard on poor Garoline. 
 
 Morning Glory. 
 Lazy-boots, Charlie boy, 
 Grandma's spoiled pet and joy, 
 
 Wouldn't get up in the morning. 
 There he would lie and sleep, 
 Breakfast a waiting keep, 
 
 Heed neither bell, call nor warning. 
 
 "When does he go to bed?'' 
 This to his Aunt I said 
 
 Just by the way of suggesting. 
 " Go to bed?— With the owl! 
 Yes, he's an evening fowl, 
 
 Plainly he needs some more resting." 
 
 Thus mused his Auntie firm, 
 Vainly did Charlie squirm, 
 
 One. hour ago his Aunt kissed him. 
 " Good night," she sweetly said, 
 "Nothing like soon to bed!" 
 
 Oh! how the family missed him. 
 
 Mother Fairy. 
 Fie! Doubtless dear Grandmamma missed him! 
 
 Thistle Down. 
 Moping Maria was low in her mind, 
 Parents and doctors could none of them find 
 What it was best to give her; 
 
90 WORK AND PLAT. 
 
 Trifles absurd weighed like lead on her heart. 
 She from her troubles was quite loth to part, 
 No one thought of her liver. 
 
 No one proposed a good romp in the air — 
 The dullness of mortals may well make us stare — 
 
 I lured her out to ramble. 
 Once she was out there was no going in, 
 She followed me panting through thick and thin, 
 
 A hygienic scramble. 
 
 To-night she enjoyed a new sauce for tea, 
 Hunger had long been a stranger, you see. 
 
 Then, her fancy beguiling, 
 I mingled such jokes with family chat. 
 Wonder of wonders, before them she sat, 
 
 Moping Maria, smiling. 
 
 Maiden Hair. 
 " My forehead is high. 
 
 And my father hates bangs. 
 To be out of style 
 
 Is the keenest of pangs," 
 Complained poor little Miss Molly. 
 Her hair it is soft. 
 
 And her brow it is fair, 
 But Molly's the prey 
 Of cruel despair. 
 The slave of merciless folly. 
 The scissors she siezed, 
 I whispered " Beware!" 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 91 
 
 She clipped in despite 
 One small lock of hair, 
 And lisped, "This must be becoming!" 
 But do what she would 
 
 The lock would not stay. 
 It twisted and flew, 
 
 And turned every way, 
 Quoth I, " You will always be gumming." 
 The scissors she dropped 
 
 In petulant haste, 
 For dainty Miss Moll 
 Is not fond of paste. 
 She carefully brushed the lock under. 
 Now calmly she smiles, 
 
 Composedly walks, 
 She no longer heeds 
 
 How all the world talks, 
 " Why can't she wear bangs, I wonder?" 
 
 Mother Fairy. 
 
 She doesn't like paste? No wonder! 
 
 JBahy'^s Breath. 
 
 I've been with the wee folk all the day, 
 They are so sweet in their happy play, 
 I'm always sorry to come away. 
 
 They have their griefs, though, poor little pets! 
 Big brother teases, big sister forgets. 
 And everyone wonders why Baby frets. 
 
92 WOKK AXD PLAY. 
 
 I help them in ways no one would guess, 
 I change cross Nursey's " no " to " yes." 
 I've made the fashions bother them less, 
 I help them their queer little woes to express, 
 Their innocent hearts I daily bless! 
 
 Mother Fairy. 
 
 Their innocent hearts we always bless! 
 
 Mignonnette. 
 
 Said grieved little Nancy: 
 *' I am so plain 
 
 Nobody will love me; 
 Alas! the pain! 
 
 There's Rosamon^Belle, 
 With curling hair, 
 
 Magnificent eyes, 
 And skin so fair, 
 
 They all adore her." 
 " Now, Nancy dear, 
 
 Are you so foolish?" 
 I I made Jier hear. 
 
 She stopped to listen. 
 The gentle child. 
 
 " I tell you, Nancy: 
 A temper mild, 
 
 Is more than beauty. 
 Finer than grace; 
 
 A heart unselfish 
 Will hold a place 
 • Denied to the very loveliest face." 
 
WORK AND PLAT. 93 
 
 " I see," said Nancy, 
 
 With brow serene; 
 " The heart unselfish . 
 
 Will be the Queen." 
 
 Mother Fairy, 
 
 Right; little Nancy, with brow serene, 
 The heart unselfish will be the Queen. 
 
 Mustard Seed. 
 Headstrong Horace would nobody heed, 
 Of check and guidance he felt no need; 
 
 Grown people are so officious! 
 He couldn't see why his careless ways 
 Should fill the household with amaze, 
 
 As if they were really vicious! 
 
 Why shouldn't he leave his books on the floor? 
 And why must one bother to shut a door? 
 What was there in twilight that hurts one's eyes? 
 These were his notes of injured surprise. 
 
 Such smallness was quite harassing. 
 He oxAj forgot that errand to do; 
 He left his i2i&k.just before it was through; 
 He staid out barely a half-hoicr too long; 
 His answer was only a little wrong; 
 
 His innocence was surpassing. 
 
 His father groaned, and his mother sighed: 
 " Our first-born son, our hope and our pride, 
 Will do us little credit." 
 
94 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 I came to the rescue with might and main, 
 Of dreadful results I started a train, 
 And on its way I sped it. 
 
 Pug spoiled a book he left on the floor, 
 
 The croup slipped in at the open door; 
 
 He missed an eagerly coveted prize 
 
 By taking no care of his " bothering " eyes. 
 
 The slighted errand a holiday cost, 
 
 The unfinished task a fine present lost, 
 
 The stolen half hour made him work half a day. 
 
 " Oh," he cried, " if mischief goes on in this way 
 
 (Here I gave him a startling brush with my wings) 
 
 I shall think there is something in little things." 
 
 Mother Fairy. 
 He will find there is something in little things. 
 All. 
 Through viewless portals 
 To heedless mortals 
 We enter with warnings and gifts all day; 
 With lightsome numbers 
 We soothe their slumbers. 
 Then speed to our greenwood home away. 
 
 A MORNING CALL. 
 
 A TABLEAU. 
 
 A little girl four or five years old sits surrounded by 
 her playthings, holding a doll in her lap. On her head 
 is a breakfast cap, over her shoulders a little shawl. 
 
AVOKK AND TLAY. 95 
 
 Near her sits another young lady of the same age, in 
 bonnet, shawl and gloves. By her side is a toy poodle, 
 ■which she holds by a leading string. 
 
 The face of the visitor is full of animation, for she 
 has been telling some surprising piece of news to her 
 friend, who, on her part, looks the picture of interest 
 and astonishment. 
 
 A DRESS PARADE. 
 
 A TABLEAU. 
 
 Six little boys, three of whom are still wearing skirls 
 are standing in line. A seventh, the commanding of- 
 ficer, is in front, facing them. The latter wears a soft 
 hat, mashed together at the crown, and in the broad 
 band of it is stuck a small feather duster. Red flannel 
 epaulettes are fastened to his shoulders, and an oblong 
 piece of some dark stuff is pinned to the back of his 
 jacket to form the skirts of his military coat; a wooden 
 pudding-stick dangles at his side for a sword, and he 
 shoulders a yardstick for a gun. 
 
 One of the smallest boys has a tin pail on his head 
 with the bail under his chin.^ and a tin pan and spoons 
 for drum and sticks. Another has an old round of a 
 ■chair for a fife, and wears a straw hat with chicken's 
 feathers in it. A third has a stovepipe hat with a pea- 
 cock's feather, and a red cape on his shoulders. The 
 fourth wears a paper cap with long plumes of paper, 
 and a paper belt. The fifth a red flannel cap and belt. 
 The sixth a seal-skin cap with a shabby ostrich feather, 
 
96 WORK AND PLAT. 
 
 and a plaid sash. Each has a stick for a gun, no two 
 being of the same size. They all stand on one foot 
 with the other raised, as if in the act of making a for- 
 ward march. The fifer holds his fife to his lips, and 
 the drummer is in the act of drumming. 
 
 ENOUGH IS AS GOOD AS A FEAST. 
 
 A PANTOMIME. 
 
 A table is laid with toy dishes, and around it sit fou 
 or five little boys and girls. A head waiter in white 
 jacket and white cotton gloves, a subordinate waiter 
 in white apron and gloves, and a waitress in white cap 
 and apron, go through with the motions of serving a 
 meal of several courses — soup, fish, meats, entrees, 
 salad, puddings, pastry, ice-cream, fruits, etc., all of 
 which viands and dainties are purely imaginary. 
 
 A lively wordless conversation goes on among the 
 guests all the time — smiles, nods, shaking the head for 
 no, shugging the shoulders, raising the eyebrows, wav- 
 ing the hands, mingled with gestures expressive of 
 great enjoyment of the dinner. 
 
 The waiters ply their task with great eagerness, 
 making blunders, for which the head waiter sharply 
 reproves them with frowns, shakes of the head, and an 
 occasional clutch at his own hair, as if in despair. The 
 courses follow one another with as great rapidity as 
 possible, being removed as soon as fairly served. 
 
 At the sixth course one of the guests declines with 
 
WORK AND PLAT. 97 
 
 emphatic gestures; at the seventh two more do the 
 same; at the eighth only one guest partakes, and at the 
 ninth the whole company vehemently wave the waiters 
 off, and draw their chairs away from the table, while 
 the head waiter wrings his hands, and the subordinates 
 sob in their aprons. 
 
 THE QUEEN OF THE MAY AND HER COURT. 
 
 A TABLEAU. 
 
 Under a very large cotton umbrella, held by a small 
 courtier in waterproof cape and rubber boots, sits the 
 small Queen arrayed in a waterproof cloak, the hood of 
 which is over her head. Her feet, which are incased 
 in India rubber shoes, rest on a cushion of green. 
 Around her head is a crown of dandelions. Huddled 
 about her under the umbrella are still smaller girls in 
 water-proofs and rubber shoes. Four or five little 
 courtiers, wearing rubber suits, and carrying very 
 small umbrellas, stand near. All are gazing anxiously 
 at the clouds. 
 
 PANTOMIME-CHARADE— SOMERSAULTS. 
 First Scene: Summer. 
 
 A group of boys and girls dressed in thin summer 
 clothes. The girls are using large fans, and the boys 
 flutter their straw hats vigorously. On the table is a 
 pitcher of ice- water with glasses, to which they contin- 
 ually resort, making all the time gestures, shrugs, and 
 sighs, expressive of over powering heat. 
 
^y WOKK AJSTJ) PLA.Y. 
 
 Second Scene: Salts. 
 The boys have withdrawn, also a girl. One of the 
 girls is lying back in her rocking-chair, with closed 
 eyes and pale face. The others distractedly bring dif- 
 ferent things for her relief. One fans her with two 
 fans, one sprinkles her face, another moistens her wrists 
 with ice water, and a fourth sits on the floor before 
 her, and, removing her shoes, begins to rub her feet. 
 All with no result, till the missing girl returns with a 
 smelling bottle in her hand. She opens the bottle sud- 
 denly close to the nose of the patient, who starts up 
 violently and dances about, scattering her attendants 
 in all directions. 
 
 Whole Word. 
 
 The boys of the first scene are spurring on the 
 youngest of their number, a very little fellow, to show 
 them what fine somersaults he can turn. He does not 
 once succeed in making a perfect one, but his ridicu- 
 lous failures are greeted with clapping of hands and 
 waving of hats, till the girls rush in, and after witness- 
 ing one performance and laughing silently, shake their 
 heads at the other boys, and then all begin to fan the 
 little one. 
 
 THE VISIT OF THE SCHOOL COMMITTEE. 
 
 A TABLEAU. 
 
 Ten or twelve dolls of different styles and sizes, 
 and in different stages of dilapidation, are arranged 
 on little chairs and stools as in a school-room. Three 
 are sitting together at the front center in class. An' 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 99 
 
 open atlas is standing in a chair at the right front, 
 and a tiny school-mistress, wearing a long dress and 
 eye-glasses, is pointing to a country on the map, and 
 looking inquiringly at her pupils for an answer. 
 
 At the left front sit two small boys, in long coats, 
 with large hats in their hands. One of them wears 
 spectacles, the other is holding a cane, and both are 
 listening with severe gravity to the recitation. 
 
 AIR-OASTLES. 
 
 [The boy wlio recites this is seated at a table, on \\'hich are 
 several school books. He opens one after another, interrupt, 
 ing his desultory studies by castle building. At " There 'tis", 
 in the last stanza, he rises and walks away with a book in his 
 hiind.1 
 
 When I am a man, 
 I sha'n't learn any lessons, I shall play. 
 Or only 'tend to business, any way. 
 Let's see, " The population of Japan ?" 
 Oh! what's the use to find it if I can, 
 'Twill be three times as much when I'm a m-an. 
 
 When I am a man 
 I mean to always do just what I please, 
 And not be bothered with such things as these; 
 OhI what a dreadful line this is to scan! 
 1 shan't remember it when I'm a man. 
 
 When I am a man, 
 It isn't likqly I shall parlez vous 
 There'll be so many nicer things to do; 
 
100 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Besides, they're sure to find some easier plan 
 To do French e's and u's when I'm a man. 
 
 When I am a man 
 I'll ride, and hunt, and fish, and travel round. 
 No master then to catch me out of boind — 
 " Five-fourths of nine," was that where I began? 
 I'll have my things all whole when I'm a man. 
 
 When I am a man 
 I'll never touch a dry old history- book — 
 Oh! what a string of figures, only look! 
 All I remember is, the red-coats ran, — 
 I'll go to war myself when I'm a man. 
 
 When I am a man, 
 I shant be always dreading that old bell. 
 There 'tis, this minute! I don't know this well; 
 I can't think who succeeded to Queen Anne — 
 I hope kings won't succeed when I'm a man. 
 
 CHARADE— CAN DIDATES. 
 First Scene: Candy. 
 
 Three little girls, Nellie, Hattie and Louise, are dis- 
 cussing Christmas presents. Nellie is knitting, Hattie 
 is working on perforated paper, and Louise is cro- 
 cheting a little mat. 
 
 Nellie. — When I have finished these reins, mine 
 are all done; I mean all the things I have to make. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 101 
 
 And I know just what I am going to give to every 
 body except Aunt Fanny. 
 
 JjOuise. — Why don't you crochet her a mat? 
 
 Nellie. — Oh! I must do something different. I 
 heard her tell mamma she had a collection of mats 
 and things large enough to stock the worsted depart- 
 ment of the World's Fair, and I kaow well enough 
 where she got them. Why, Clara and I, and even 
 Jimmy, have made her some kind of mat every year 
 ever since we began with those forlorn little things 
 done with pins stuck in a spool. Auntie wouldn't let 
 us know she didn't think they were splendid, and she 
 has kept them all; but she sha'n't have any more from 
 me. 
 
 Hattie. — Why don't you make her a hair-pin basket, 
 then? 
 
 Nellie. — She had three last Christmas. 
 
 Louise. — Would you have time to make her a pair 
 bedroom slippers? 
 
 Nellie. — I might have time if I knew how, her feet 
 are so little, but I don't know how. I might have to 
 ask her to show me. She has done them for every- 
 body but herself. 
 
 Hattie. — Have you no money left? 
 
 Nellie. — Not to buy anything nice enough for her. 
 Not more than thirty cents. 
 
 Here Jimmy, Nellie's brother, enters, holding in his 
 hand a small white paper bag on which the eyes of 
 the girls fasten at once. 
 . Nellie. — 0, Jimmy! how glad we are to see you. 
 
102 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Louise. — O, Jimmy! you sweet thing! 
 
 Hattie. — Jimmy, my dear, I always liked you, 
 Jimmy. 
 
 Jimmy [Speaking rather thickly, with a large pro- 
 tuberance in one cheek]. — Which do you like best, 
 me or my paper bag? 
 
 All the Girls.— Youl 
 
 Jim^mjy. — So much the better for the bag. Now if 
 you love me, let me get my history lesson in peace. 
 
 He takes a chocolate cream, a burnt almond, and a 
 huge sour ball from the bag, and places them in a row, 
 before him on the table. After setting the open bag 
 on a chair close to the three girls, he seats himself at 
 a table with his back to his admirers, and takes his 
 book. 
 
 Jimmy. — Excuse my back, my dears, and don't 
 meddle with that bag, for you know you don't like it 
 and it wont agree with you. 
 
 Nellie silently pounces on the bag, and offers it to 
 Hattie and Louise, who help themselves. 
 
 Hattie. — These are nice. These would do for your 
 Aunt Fanny. In a box, you know; only I'd have 
 candied walnuts instead of sour balls. 
 
 Nellie. — How much does a pound box cost? 
 
 Hattie. — Only forty cents at that new place on 
 Spring street. 
 
 Nellie. — I haven't forty — only thirty. 
 
 Jjouise. — Wouldn't your mother give you a box. 
 You could get the goodies for thirty. 
 
 Nellie. — She had a very nice box left. She got 
 some for her Sunday-school class. I mean to ask her. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 103 
 
 As Jimmy proceeds with his history lesson, the 
 chocolate cream and burnt almond disappear. When 
 he puts the sour ball in his mouth, Nellie, observing 
 it, motions to the girls to hurry and empty the bag 
 whiih they do, concealing the contents in Hattie's 
 work-basket. They then set the bag on the chair 
 again. Jimmy soon turnS, intending to supply the 
 place of the vanished snur ball. 
 
 Jimmy. — Chiistopher Columbus ! 
 
 Second Scene: Dates. 
 
 Characters the same as those of the first scene. The 
 girls are laughing, but Jimmy looks perplexed and 
 glum. 
 
 Nellie. — Do you know your history, Jimmy dear? 
 
 Jimmy. — I do' know, or care muth. 
 
 Nellie [Taking the book]. — Let us see. When 
 did your friend, Christopher Columbus, discover Amer- 
 ica? 
 
 Jimmy. — Tn 1942. 
 
 Nellie. — Very well. What was the first permanent 
 settlement, and when was it made? 
 
 Jimmy. — Coney Island. In 1878. 
 
 Nellie. — When was the Stamp Act passed? 
 
 Jimmy. — Fourth of July, 1776. 
 
 iV^e^/ie.— Battle of Banker Hill? 
 
 Jimmy. — Next day. Fifth of July. Wouldn't stand 
 it a minute, you see. 
 
 Nellie. — Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers? 
 
 Jimmy. — At Faneuii Hall — hum — it was either '48 
 or '49. 1 forget which. 
 
104 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Nellie. — I don't think you need to study history any 
 more, Jimmy. Do you, girls? 
 
 Girls.— Oh\ Nof 
 
 Hattie passes her work-basket to Jimmy, who looks 
 puzzled for a moment; then catching the comforting 
 gleam of a sour ball, he accepts the basket graciously, 
 and puts the sour ball in his left cheek. 
 
 Third Scene: Whole Word. 
 
 Characters the same as those of the first and second 
 scenes. To them enter Charles and Jack. 
 
 Nellie. — You are the very ones we wanted to see. 
 It's time to choose a Kriss Kringle for this year. 
 Mother says we must manage all that ourselves. It's 
 as much as she can do to attend to the tree and the 
 supper. 
 
 Charles. — Are nominations in order? 
 
 Jimmy. — Yes, I guess so. 
 
 Charles. — I nominate Mr. James Green for acting 
 Kriss Kringle at the coming Christmas Festival of the 
 Five Families. 
 
 Jimmy. — Ladies — 
 
 Netlie. — The motion hasn't been seconded. 
 
 Jimmy. — Ladies and — 
 
 Louise. — I second the motion. 
 
 Jimmy. — Ladies and gent' — 
 
 Jack. — It is moved and seconded that Mr. James 
 Green would make a good Kriss Kringle; as many as 
 are in favor of that motion, please say " Aye." 
 
 All but Jimmy. — Aye! 
 
 Jimmy. — Ladies and gentlemen, I — I'd rather not. 
 
WOKK AND PLAY. 105 
 
 Jack. — I nominate Mr. Charles Jones. 
 
 Nellie. — Second the motion. 
 
 Jimmy. — It has been moved and seconded that we 
 want Mr. Charles Jones for our Kriss Kringle; as many 
 as are in favor of that motion, please say " Aye." 
 
 All hut Charles. — Aye! 
 
 Charles. — Ladies and gentlemen, I don't see any, 
 way how I can. 
 
 Jimmy. — ^I nominate Mr. Jack Sherman. 
 
 Hattie. — Second the motion. 
 
 Charles. — It has been moved and seconded that Mr. 
 Jack Sherman must be our Kriss Kringle ; as many as 
 are in favor of that motion, please say " Aye." 
 
 All hut Jack. — Aye. 
 
 Jack. — Ladies and gentlemen, you forget that I was 
 it last year. 
 
 Nellie. — That is no difference. You are all so 
 cranky that the only way will be to get the five families 
 together, and make everybody vote for one of you 
 three. Then the one that gets the most votes will just 
 have to do it, that's all. Pass around the work-basket. 
 
 TWO HEADS ARE BETTER THAN ONE. 
 
 A TABLEAU. 
 
 Two tiny girls standing close together, an arm of each 
 around the neck of the other. On their two heads is 
 perched a lady's large shade hat, gaily trimmed with 
 flowers. With their other two hands they hold a hand- 
 some parasol over their heads. Their own little hats 
 lie on the floor near them, and behind them has 
 
10»J 
 
 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 dropped the silk dolman, with which they have en. 
 deavored to complete their costume. 
 
 MOTHER GOOSE AND HER CRITICS. 
 
 Johnny, five years old; Susie, seven; Fanny, eleven;. 
 Sam, twelve. 
 
 Johnny. — Tell us some stories, Fanny. 
 
 Fanny, — Oh! I don't know any new ones, and 
 you've heard all the old ones a hundred times. You 
 know them by heart, yourselves. 
 
 Sam. — Yes, Johnny, you tell us some stories. Turn- 
 about is fair play. 
 
 Susie. — Do, Johnny. Tell them about the black- 
 birds baked in a pie. 
 
 Johnny. — 
 
 " Sing a song o' sixpence, a pocket full of rye, 
 Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie; 
 When the pie was opened the birds began to sing. 
 Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the King:"' 
 
 Sam, — How should you like to have that kind of 
 pie when you get to be King? 
 
 Johnny. — I am going to be President and have 
 chicken pie. 
 
 Sam. — Blackbird pie is good enough for a King, I 
 suppose. 
 
 Johnny. — What made the birds sing when they were 
 baked, Fanny? 
 
 Fanny. — I don't know. Yes, 1 do! They were sa 
 
WOKK AND PLAY. 107 
 
 hot, you see. Don't you know the tea-kettle sings 
 when it is ready to boil? 
 
 Susie. — I don't believe it. 
 
 Sam. — Not believe Mother Goose. 
 
 Johnny. — It's true, Susie. I've seen the picture of 
 it and the birds all flying 'round, and one's head 
 sticking up out of the pie -crust, and the King holding 
 up his hands this v^^ay. 
 
 Sayn. [Winking at Fanny]. — Of course, Susie. The 
 King was as much surprised as you would be. 
 
 Susie. — It doesn't say anything about it. It just 
 says: 
 
 " The King was in the parlor counting out his money. 
 The Queen was in the kitchen eating bread and 
 honey." 
 
 I asked Aunt Jane, and she said it was nonsense; 
 the Queen wouldn't be in the kitchen. 
 
 Fanny. — Where would the Queen be, then? She 
 wasn't in the parlor where the King was counting out 
 his money. I suppose he thought she would put him 
 out, asking questions and such things. 
 
 jSusie. — Why, J should think the Queen would 
 have to stay on the throne when the King's off. 
 
 Sam. [Laughing]. — Yes. Turn and turn about; one 
 off and one on." 
 
 Johnny. — What's that other Queen in the picture, 
 with a crown on, frying something? 
 
 ;Sam. — She was in the kitchen, any way; so you'll 
 have to give it up, Susie. 
 
108 WORK AND PLAT. 
 
 Fanny [Lookinor knowingly at Sam]. — Yes, and it 
 tells the name of the King: 
 
 " When our King Arthut* ruled the land, 
 
 He was a goodly king; 
 He stole three pecks of barley meal 
 To make a bag pudding." 
 
 Susie. — Aunt Jane doesn't say it that way; she says 
 " bought three pecks of barley meal ". 
 
 Johnny. — Aunt Sophy says " stole ". 
 
 Susie. — Good Kings don't steal. 
 
 Sam. — " Goodly " Kings take things in a royal 
 highness kind of way — bigger things than barley 
 meal. I've learned history, so you may trust me for 
 that. 
 
 Susie. — Eight quarts make a peck; I know that out 
 of my last table. What a big family they must have 
 had at the paiace. 
 
 Sam. [Laughing]. — Yes, there were all those fel- 
 lows we heard Uncle Charley reading about the other 
 night. 
 
 Galahad, and Geraint, and Modred, and 
 Lancelot, and all those other Round Table chaps. 
 
 Fanny. — It wasn't that King Arthur. 
 
 Sam. — Who was it then. Mr. Tennyson had so 
 many other things to tell about him that he forgot 
 this. But Mother Goose always tells the most inter- 
 esting things about people, and lets the other facts 
 go. At any rate, that's what Aunt Sophy says. I 
 heard her say that if it hadn't been for Mother Goose 
 we never should have known whether King Arthur 
 was a "good provider " or not. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 109 
 
 Fanny. — Isn't Aunt Sophy funny! 
 
 Jo/inny. — She's nice! She knows Mother Goose all 
 through. She 'splained to me all how the cow jumped 
 over the moon, and old Aunt Jane said the cow couldn't 
 jump over the moon. 
 
 Sam. — How did she 'splain it? 
 
 Johnmy. — Why, you know how the moon came \x^^ 
 over the top of the high hill when we were up country 
 Well, you see, the cow just strolled — that's what Aunt 
 Sophy said. Sbe just strolled up the hill, and when 
 the moon just got to the top, she threw up her hind 
 legs — so — and jumped right over it, just as easy! 
 
 fSusie. — I don't see what she wanted to do it for! 
 
 Sam. — Uncle Charley used to tell me it was an acci- 
 dent; that the cat fiddled, so be- yow— tifuUy, that the 
 cow danced, and danced, and the more she danced, the 
 lighter she got; and the first thing the man in the 
 moon knew, she chasseyed up to him, and when he 
 shied off, away she went over the moon! 
 
 Johnny. — Pooh! I guess Aunt Sophy knows! 
 
 Fanny. — The man in the moon has had some funny 
 visitors, according to Mother Goose. There was that 
 old woman that went up to brush the cobwebs out of 
 the sky. 
 
 Sam. — Uncle Charley says that was the occasion 
 when 
 
 " The man in the moon 
 Came down too soon 
 To inquire the way to Norwich." 
 
110 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 He says that men hate house-cleaning, and when he 
 saw the old woman coming up with her broom, he 
 started down, without considering that he was a little 
 ahead of time. 
 
 Susie. — I like Bobby Shafto and " Mistress Mary, 
 quite contrary," the best. 
 
 Fanny. — I like Robin Redbreast and Jenny Wren. 
 
 Johnny. — I like " Diddle, diddle dumpling, my son 
 John," and " Doctor Foster went to Glouster," and 
 " See-saw, Margery Daw " — and — and all of it. 
 
 GRANDMA. 
 
 When we children fall out in our work or play, 
 
 And one angry word brings another, 
 "There! you spoil all the fun. It's always the way — " 
 
 « I didn't!"—" We'll go and tell mother." 
 
 Then dear old G-randma looks over her spectacles 
 and says: "Here! here! 'Least said the soonest 
 mended.' " 
 
 If we ever forget to be modest and sweet, 
 
 Our "elders and betters" respecting; 
 If our clamorous voices the company greet. 
 
 Disputing, advising, correcting. 
 
 Then dear old Grandma looks over her spectacles and 
 says: " Whist! ' Children should be seen and not 
 heard.'" 
 
 When our wee toddling man gets a scratch or a bump. 
 Or poor teething baby-girl worries, 
 
Ill WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 When the ball hits poor Tom with a dreadful thump, 
 
 And every one fusses and hurries, 
 
 Then dear old Grandma looks over her spectacles and 
 says: "There! There! dear. 'Twill be well before 
 you're twice married!" 
 When we wish we had that, and wish we had this, 
 
 And all our things seem quite displeasing, 
 *' All the best of the fun we must always miss!'^ 
 
 "Do let us!" and other such teasing. 
 
 Then dear old Grandma looks over her spectacles and 
 ^ays: "Children! children! 'a contented mind's a 
 continual feast.' " 
 If we dream the most wonderful, lovely dreams 
 
 Of what we shall do when we're older. 
 Just when everything clearer than daylight seems. 
 
 And our projects get bolder and bolder, 
 
 Then dear old Grandma looks over her spectacles and 
 says: " ' Don't count your chickens before they are 
 hatched.'" 
 If we worry about our next holiday; 
 
 " Just as likely as not it will rain!" 
 Or, "There's Susie '11 be getting the mumps any way;" 
 
 Or, " The picnicers may miss the train;" 
 
 Then dear old Grandma takes off her spectacles and 
 laughs: " Don't run to meet trouble half way!" 
 But Grandma says sometimes, " I'm going away," 
 
 And she says it so softly and slow; 
 And a tear down her wrinkled old cheek wil' stray. 
 
 When we beg her: " Dear Grandma, don't go!'* 
 Then a tear down her wrinkled old cheek will stray 
 
 When we beg her: " Dear grandma, don't go." 
 
112 WOEK AND PLAY. 
 
 PANTOMIME-CHARADE— F URBELOW. 
 
 First Scene: Fur. 
 
 Two little boys and two little girls are diCferently 
 dressed in furs. One girl has a fur coat, the other 
 has a muff and tippet. One boy has a fur cap and 
 collar, and the other has fur mittens and ear warmers. 
 
 The little girls silently compare the quality of their 
 furs, stroking them, sniffing at them, and making mo - 
 tions expressive of the warmth, softness and beauty of 
 the several articles: The boys do the same with 
 theirs. 
 
 Then by common consent they all change property. 
 The boy with cap and collar changes with the girl 
 who has the coat; and the one with the mittens and 
 ear-warmers, with the girl who has the muff and tip- 
 pet. Thus arrayed, they bow, wave hands, and 
 separate. 
 
 Second Scene: Below. 
 
 Characters: One of the little girls of the first 
 scene, and an older one, eleven or twelve years of age. 
 The latter sits reading. The smaller girl calls her 
 attention to a pile of pasteboard boxes on the floor, 
 and points from them to herself to ask if she may 
 have something from them. The older one nods and 
 looks at her book. Then, looking up again and seeing 
 the other lifting the lid from the top box, she shakes 
 her head, and points lower down in the pile. When 
 she looks up again the little one has removed the top 
 box and opened the se :ond. The older one shakes her 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 113 
 
 head again, and points lower down. This ^oes on 
 till four boxes havt3 been set aside, and only one is 
 left at the bottom. Peeping into this, the liitle one 
 looks inquiringly at the older girl, who nods for yes. 
 Then the little one drops the cover on the floor, and 
 dances about, expressing delight. 
 
 Third Scene; Whole Word. 
 
 The smaller girl of the last scene is alone with two 
 dolls and the lower pasteboard box. From it she lifts 
 a long flounce that has been ripped from an old dress, 
 and she looks at it admiringly. Then she passes it 
 over the back of her neck, crosses it on her breast, 
 and with some difficulty ties it loosely behind, letting 
 the long ends hang. 
 
 Clasping a doll in her arms, she walks up and 
 down, looking behind at the trailing ends with great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 A new idea striking her, she pulls the longer of the 
 two ends in front of her, and winds it about her doll, 
 patting her and kissing her as she does so. 
 
 Continuing her promenade thus for a moment, her 
 eye lights upon the neglected doll on the floor. Lay- 
 ing down the one in her arras, she takes off the flounce, 
 then, beginning at the end of it, she wraps it around 
 one doll, and then arouAd the other, winds it once 
 around her neck, and once around her waist, drawing 
 the end through and throwing it over her left shoulder, 
 to hang down her back. 
 
 She skips about for a moment, always looking be- 
 
114 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 hind her, and then -walks very slowly off the scene, 
 the flounce still sweeping after her when she has dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 CHARADE— DENMARK. 
 
 First Scene: Den. 
 
 Three little boys, Henry, Tim and Ned; two little 
 girls, Jenny and Florry. Playthings are strewn over 
 the floor, and the chairs are in the middle of the 
 room. 
 
 Henry. — Let's have a menagerie. 
 
 Tim. — Well, let's. I want to be the lion. 
 
 Ned. — I want to be the monkey-. 
 
 Henry. — I'll be the keeper and the girls can be the 
 people. 
 
 Florry. — I never heard of a menagerie with only a 
 lion and a monkey. 
 
 Jenny. — No, nor I. Not even an elephant. 
 
 Henry. — Well, we can play all the chairs are cages, 
 with hippopotamuses, anacondas, ostriches, and such 
 things in them; but we will only exhibit the lion and 
 the monkey, because they are the noblest and know- 
 ingest of animals. The lion is the King of Beasts, 
 ladies and gentlemen. 
 
 Florry. — I think it would be a great deal nicer to 
 play you were in the country where lions live, and go 
 and fight one in his own house — hole, I mean. 
 
 Jenny. — Lair is what they call it in the picture 
 books. 
 
WORK AND PLAT. 115 
 
 Tim. — That isn't what the Bible says. It doesn't 
 say "Daniel in the lion's lair". 
 
 Jenny. — Well, it means that just the same. 
 
 Henry. — Well, you will live under the table, Tim; 
 that will be your house — hole — lair, and we will come 
 to hunt you out. 
 
 Tim gets out of sight under the table, which is cov- 
 ered with a large cloth, and Henry and Ned get 
 sticks to begin the attack. As soon as they approach 
 the table a frightful roaring is heard underneath. This 
 increases when, they thrust in their weapons. The 
 lion being hard pressed, finally crawls o£f with his 
 den, which, being light, runs easily on castors. 
 Second Scene: Mark. 
 
 Characters: %'he same as those of the first scene, 
 Tim has a white mark on the shoulder of his Jacket. 
 
 F lorry. — What is the matter with your jacket, Tim? 
 
 Jenny. — Yes, there's a long white streak on the 
 shoulder of it. 
 
 Tim. — Is there? I hope it will come ofi". It is my 
 new jacket. 
 
 Florry. — I don't see how it came there. Was there 
 anything white under the table, Henry? 
 
 Henry. — No, I guess not [Florry and Jenny rub at 
 the spot, and it begins to disappear]. 
 
 Jenny. — It looks like chalk. What were those sticks 
 you had to hunt the lion with? 
 
 Henry. — I had the yard stick. 
 
 N'ecl. — I had that long thing they push the baga- 
 telle balls with. 
 
116 WORK AND TLAY. 
 
 Henry. — Oh! yes, I know now. I chalked the baga- 
 telle stick last night, the way I saw Uncle Sam chalk- 
 ing his billiard cue; but I made a mistake, I did it all 
 ovsr the big end. 
 
 Jenny. — Now Henry! What a caper! Ned must 
 have punched your shoulder well with it, Tim. 
 
 Tim. — Yes, he did, and that was the reason I went 
 off with my lair, as you call it. 
 
 Florry. — Do get a brush, Henry. It wont all come 
 off with our hands. 
 
 Henry brings the brush, and the girls work away till 
 the mark disappears. 
 
 Third Scene: Whole Woed. 
 
 Characters the same as those of the *rst and second 
 scenes. 
 
 Jenny. — Now let's put the room in order before 
 mamma comes home, and then read a nice story. 
 
 Florry. — Yes, do. 
 
 Henry. — You can put the room in order if you want 
 to; we boys are going out. 
 
 Jenny. — Ain't you ashamed, Henry! 
 
 Henry. — Ye-es, a little. Come, boys, let's help them 
 a half a minute and then skitter. 
 
 Florry. — Jim wont skitter till we are ail to rights, 
 for he has promised to be a gentleman, " always, every- 
 where." 
 
 Tim. — Now, Florry! That's a secret. 
 
 Jenny. — Oh! you can't keep it a secret. We've 
 found you out. I know two or three nice things you 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 117 
 
 have done. Who lent his Andersen story-book to a 
 sick boy before he had read them all himself? 
 
 Tim. — Ain't they nice, though, Jenny? Mustn't 
 that be a strange old town where he lived, and what 
 was the name of that queer funeral thing he slept on 
 when he was little? Ca^a- something. 
 
 Jenny. — Catafalque, I had to get mamma to say it 
 over to me two or three times. I looked out his coun- 
 try on the map, too. 
 
 Tim. — So did we. The capital has the same name 
 as that game that we play with a rope ring. 
 
 Florry. — Yes, and I can't bear it. I mean the game, 
 I guess the city is nice. 
 
 Jenny. — Oh! Its beautiful! Uncle Charley has 
 been there and he told me about it. 
 
 Henry. — It's a gay country, isn't it, the hookedest 
 peninsula and little splinters of islands. Uncle Charley 
 says it was way up there on the biggest island that 
 Hamlet lived. 
 "^ Tim.— Who was Hamlet? 
 
 Henry. — Why he was the Prince and his father was 
 King, and his uncle poured something out of a sewing 
 machine oiler into his father's ear and killed him, and 
 then he married the Queen so as to be King himself, 
 and then the right King's ghost came stalking around 
 at mi Inight and told on him and made Prince Ham- 
 let feel so awful he didn't know whether " to be or not 
 to be." 
 
 Jenny. — Oh! Henry! I don't believe they had sew- 
 ing machines, then; it was ages ago. That was a bur- 
 
118 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 lesque, you saw Uncle Charley and the rest of them 
 doing. 
 
 Ned. — What's a burnesk? 
 
 Jenny. — Burlesque, it is. It's when they make fun 
 of some thing that was grand in the first place. 
 
 Henry. — Come, boys, let's go out. 
 
 Tim. — Wont you come too, girls, and we'll play 
 hunkey-dee. 
 
 Ned. — Oh! Yes, come on! 
 
 TASTES DIFFER. 
 
 A TABLEAU. 
 
 A tiny barefooted boy, with ragged pants and a 
 torn straw hat, astride a broomstick. In his right 
 hand he holds a long switch and half a large cucumber 
 pickle, which he is in the act of raising to his mouth. 
 
 Beside him a bit of a girl in a dark calico dress and 
 sun-bonnet, hugging a disjointed rag baby in one 
 hand, and holding in the other a large piece of bread 
 and molasses, from which she is just taking a bite. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 If your kite is the biggest one, 
 And the finest, far or nigh; 
 
 If its tail drives the comet mad. 
 Ten to one it will not fly; 
 
 For you can't have everything. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 119 
 
 If the plums in your birthday cake 
 
 Are like leaves in autumn cast, 
 You may make up your mind 'twill be 
 
 But a wretched cake to last; 
 For you can't have everything. 
 
 If you get to the head at school, 
 Then look out for pains and care; 
 
 It may cost you some morning naps 
 If you keep your vantage there; 
 But you can't have everything. 
 
 If you pay your rude playmate back 
 
 For his hasty, unkind deed, 
 You may win the boys' thoughtless praise. 
 
 You will miss your own heart's meed; 
 For you can't have everything. 
 
 Should you ever the secret learn 
 
 Of the souls that truly live, 
 Who have found that it is enough 
 
 To labor, and love, and give; 
 
 Then — you will have everything. 
 
 PANTOMIME-CHARADE— ALADDIN. 
 
 First Scene: A. 
 
 Several small girls and one boy in a class, before a 
 
 large alphabet card. The teacher, a girl of ten or 
 
 twelve years, points to the letter A, and makes with 
 
 her lips the motion of pronouncing the letter, without 
 
120 
 
 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 uttering a sound. The first child does the same aftei 
 her, and the second the same, and so on through the 
 class. 
 
 Then the teacher once more points to the letter, and 
 moves her lips, and with a wave of her hand indicates 
 the whole class, whereupon all the children together 
 make the A motion of the lips. 
 
 Second Scene: Lad. 
 
 Characters the same as those of the first scene, with 
 the addition of a boy, personating an old gentleman, — 
 viz., spectacles, long coat, and cane. The pupils are 
 seated in a row when the old gentleman enters. The 
 teacher shakes hands with him, and gives him a seat. 
 He points to the class, and then to the alphabet card. 
 
 The teacher beckons to one of the little girls, who 
 rises to come to her; but the old gentleman shakes his 
 head, and waves her back. Another rises to come, but 
 he shakes his head at her also. All the girls are thus 
 sent back, when the boy rises. The old gentleman 
 nods, smiles, and beckons him to come. 
 
 The teacher makes the lad say his alphabet silently, 
 and the old gentleman is delighted. He pats the boy 
 on the head, and finally shakes hands with him and 
 the teacher, and departs, bowing coldly to the little 
 girls. 
 
 Third Scene: Din. 
 
 Recess in the little class. The teacher sits alone in 
 the. school-room, but through the open door comes th» 
 
WOEK AND PLAY. 121 
 
 noise of recess, — the beating of a drum, a tin horn, a 
 mouth organ, laughter, singing, shouts. 
 
 She bears it for a moment, then pressing her hands 
 to her ears, runs to shut the door. 
 
 Fourth Scene: Whole Word. 
 
 A boy, dressed in Turkish trousers, and a loose sack 
 or blouse falling a little below the waist; a turban on 
 his head, sandals on his feet, and in his hand an antique 
 lamp, which he rubs, looking away into the distance as 
 if he saw the wonders his magical lamp is working. 
 
 If an antique lamp be not procurable, the pictures 
 of Aladdin must be consulted, and something resem- 
 bling one as nearly as possible, be subsituted for it 
 
 CHARADE— AMBUSCADE. 
 
 First Scene: Am. 
 
 Five boys, Charles, Austin, Jacob, Will and Fred. 
 Charles, the oldest, is eleven years old; Will, the 
 youngest, six. 
 
 Fred. — I say, boys. Miss Green says I may skip over 
 the Sixth class into the Fifth if I'll learn separate 
 Grammar lessons with her a few weeks. I am well 
 enough in Arithmetic, Geography and Spelling, but I, 
 only know " a noun's a name ", and that's all I do 
 know about Grammar. 
 
 Austin. — How much Grammar do you have to know 
 to be in the Fifth? 
 
122 
 
 WORK AND PLAT. 
 
 Charles. — To Personal Pronouns, I guess. 
 
 Fred. — Yes. Noun, Adjective and Verb. 
 
 Will. — I know some personal pronouns. I heard 
 Lizzie doing something with them the other night. It 
 wasn't reclining, I guess, but it was something like it. 
 
 Jacob. — Declining, wasn't it? 
 
 Will. — Oh, yes! that's it. It went like this: 
 I am, We am. 
 
 You am, They am, 
 
 He, she or it am, Thou am. 
 
 [Charles, Austin and Jacob laugh.] 
 
 Will. — Or something like that. 
 
 Charles. — You won't need to take separate lessons 
 when you want to get into the Fifth. 
 
 Jacob. — The inhabitants of Grammar Land would 
 be astonished to hear such declensions, wouldn't they? 
 
 Second Scene: 'Bus. 
 
 Characters the same as those of the first scene, with 
 the addition of Annie and Lizzie, sisters of Charles^ 
 Annie being older, lizzie younger than he. They 
 enter at the beginning of the scene. 
 
 Charles. — Why, how did you get over so soon ? 
 
 Annie. — Guess! We came by a new way, and in 
 great style. 
 
 Avstin. — Did Uncle Tom take you up in his buggy? 
 
 Liizze. — No. 
 
 Jacob. — You didn't come round on the boat. It 
 does not begin to run till next Monday. 
 
 Annie. — No. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 123 
 
 Will. — Did Aunt Ella bring you over in her phae- 
 ton? 
 
 Lizzie. — No. 
 
 Annie. — We may as well tell them, Lizzie. They'll 
 never guess, and it's such fun. You see, we started 
 to walk, and we had only turned the corner when we 
 saw that beautiful new Mayflower, that Uncle Tom 
 told us about, coming along with four horses. There 
 was nobody inside, but we thought of course it had 
 begun to run regular trips, so we held up our fore- 
 fingers as fine as you please. The driver looked puz. 
 zled, but there was a young gentleman up beside him 
 and he said something to him and made him stop, and 
 we got in. When we handed up our fare they both 
 laughed and said there was no charge to-day. Then 
 we were scared, and wanted to get out, but the young 
 gentleman said, " On no account," and asked us where 
 we wished to go. We told him " to Ivy Terrace," 
 and they drove up here to the very door, and the 
 young gentleman got down and helped us out with a 
 great flourish. We thanked him as well as we could 
 and then hurried in. Sister Fan came running down 
 stairs with her eyes as large as saucers, for what do you 
 s'pose? 
 
 All the Boj/s.—Whait? 
 
 Ajime. — The brand new Mayflower was chartered to 
 take those elegant English people, over at the Neck, 
 on a little pic-nic to-day, and Fan knew all about it. 
 That fine young gentleman had come out of his way 
 to bring us round here, rather than tell us our mis- 
 take. 
 
124 WOKK AND PLAY. 
 
 Lizzie, — We shall never hear the last of it. 
 Third Scene: Cade. 
 
 Characters: Charles, Annie and Will. 
 
 Will. — I know my spelling now. See if I don't, 
 Annie. 
 
 Anyiie [Taking the bookj. — Fade. 
 
 TF///.— F-a-d-e, fade. 
 
 Annie. — Lade. 
 
 TF///.— L-a-d-e, lade. 
 
 A?ime. — Made. 
 
 Will. — M-a-d-e, made. There's another one before 
 fade that you didn't give out. 
 
 Annie. — Oh! yes, Cade. 
 
 Charles. — What kind of word is that? Tt must be 
 a made-up word. I never heard it before. 
 
 Annie. — May be Mr. Worcester has. Suppose you 
 look and see. 
 
 Charles. [After consulting the Dictionary]. — Yes, 
 sure enough. " Cade, a cask or barrel. *A cade of 
 herrings. — Shak.' " 
 
 Fourth Scene: Whole Word. 
 
 Characters: Charles, Austin, Annie and Will. 
 
 A)inie. — What are you reading, Charles? 
 
 Charles. — About the war of Africa. 
 
 Annie. — Can yoa understand it? Is it interestinn^? 
 
 Charles. — A little, because I heard Uncle Tom talk- 
 ing about it the other night. The natives are always 
 coming out of hiding places and surprising the Eng- 
 lish when they think there is no force of them around. 
 
WORK AliD PLAY. 125 
 
 Auttiti. — Uncle Tom says that is a favorite plan of 
 warfare with savages, and he should think that the 
 Britons would be up to snuff with them after awhile. 
 
 Annie, — Wasn't it too bad about the young French 
 Prince! 1 should think Eugenie would hate war after 
 all the hard time she has had. 
 
 While this conversation has been going on. Will has 
 crept unnoticed into the small space between Charles' 
 chair and the wall. When Austin, at this point, rises 
 to pass him. Will springs out with a warwhoop that 
 makes the room ring. 
 
 Aiatin [Surrendering]. — Save me, comrades! Save 
 me! I am caught in an ambush and surrounded by 
 one man! 
 
 Charles and Annie make a feint of going to the res- 
 cue, and Will lets his prisoner go and slips out of the 
 room. 
 
 CHARADE :— SPARTAN. 
 Rrst Scene: Spar. 
 
 Characters. Sam and Tom, seven and eight years 
 of acre. 
 
 Tom. — Papa's going to get me a velocipede at 
 Christmas, if I'm a good boy. 
 
 Sam. — You wont get it, then. 
 
 Tom. — How do you know I wont? I shall too! 
 
 SaTTU — You wont be a good boy, that is why you wont 
 get it. 
 
126 WORK AND PLAT. 
 
 Tom. — I guess I'm as good as you are, anyhow. 
 
 Sam. — You aren't, you lost my new ball. 
 
 Tom. — I didn't! You lost it yourself. 
 
 Sam. — Oh! What a story! 
 
 Tom,. — I wont ever let you ride on my new veloci- 
 pede if you talk so. 
 
 Sam,. — If your papa knew how bad you are he 
 wouldn't get you one. 
 
 To7n. — You better tell him. 
 
 Sam,. — I'm nobody's tell-tale. 
 
 Tom,.-— Yes you are! You told on me when I 
 didn't mean to hit you with the croquet mallet. 
 
 Sam,. — I never! 
 
 Tom,. — I know better! 
 
 Sam. — I wont play with you any more. 
 
 ^ Second Scene: Tan. 
 
 Laura and Carrie, ten and eleven years of age, are 
 walking up and down together. Laura wears a large 
 shade hat with a thick green veil drawn over her face, 
 and carries a large parasol. 
 
 Carrie. — I should think you would smother with that 
 veil on, this warm day. 
 
 Laura. — Oh! I'm used to it, and anyhow, mamma 
 will not let me go without it. She says there is no use 
 in having a delicate complexion if you don't take care 
 of it. When she was a little girl her mamma let her 
 go bare-armed all one summer just because she wanted 
 to, and she says her arms have never come white. 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 127 
 
 Carrie — I should hate to have a complexion, for I 
 can't bear a veil, and I always forget my parasol. I 
 couldn't have any fun with the boys if I had to be so 
 careful. 
 
 Laura. — Mamma thinks it makes girls rough to play 
 with boys. 
 
 Carrie. — My mamma says it makes girls healthy to 
 be out doors and run and jump; and she says boys and 
 girls can have better times together than just boys or 
 girls alone. 
 
 Let's cross over and stop at Jenny's a few minutes, 
 and then you can get your veil off awhile. 
 
 Third Scene: Whole Word. 
 
 Characters: Carrie, Laura and Jenny. 
 
 Jenny — I am so glad to see you, girls! I'm as well 
 as anything, but mother is afraid to have me go out 
 till to-morrow. What did Miss Blake talk about in 
 the conversation class, to-day? 
 
 Carrie. — Oh! About Lycurgus and his people. She 
 told us about his iron money first, because some one 
 complained of our heavy silver dollars. Then she went 
 on about how stern they were, and about what laconic 
 means. Then she told how they wouldn't let weak 
 little babies live, and how the boys were trained to 
 bear all sorts of hardships, and about the one that stole 
 a fox, was it? and let it eat into him rather than to 
 be found out. 
 
 Laxira. — And she said the mothers used to tell their 
 sons when they went to war to come back " with your 
 shield or on it." 
 
128 WOEK AND PLAY. 
 
 Jenny. — That wasn't so bad. That was brave; but 
 I like the Athenians best. They were just as brave^ 
 and a great deal — nicer. 
 
 Carrit [Rising to go]. — We just stopped a minute 
 to see how you were. I'm glad you're better. 
 
 Laura. — He p me tie my veil, please. 
 
 Jenny. — Yes, you must go home " with " your veil 
 or " oa It," or your mother will not be glad to see you. 
 
 INQUIRING FRIENDS. 
 
 [This can be recited by a group of little children, each one 
 asking a question in turn.] 
 
 " How does the fly walk 
 Upside down on the wall?" 
 
 " Why don't we fall off 
 If the world is a ball?" 
 
 " And how can it turn 
 And not joggle at all?" 
 
 " What's under the sea? 
 
 ' Earth?' Then what's under thatr 
 
 "Say! Is it all true 
 
 About Whittington's cat?" 
 
 " What makes the balloon 
 Go off up in the air?" 
 
 " The man in the moon, 
 Is he all alone there?" 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 "Where does Jack Frost stay? 
 in a house made of ice?" 
 
 " Will Santa Claiis know 
 
 If we're real good and nice?" 
 
 " Do giants live now? 
 
 Are there any round here?" 
 
 "Could you touch the North Pole 
 If you traveled a year?" 
 
 " What sprinkles the dew 
 In such cute little drops?" 
 
 "How do the stars know 
 
 When the daylight just stops?" 
 
 " Why don't the ships sink, 
 And the pebble can't float?" 
 
 " How do big birds fly? 
 
 How can steam push a boat?" 
 
 " Can they reach the sky, 
 Way off there on the hill?" 
 
 " Is that pot of gold 
 
 At the rainbow's foot, still?" 
 
 " Did you ever see 
 A really fairy ring?" 
 
 " When our ship comes in, 
 
 What do you s'pose it will bring?' 
 
 129 
 
130 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 BETTER NEVER THAN LATE. 
 
 A PANTOMIME. 
 
 A very small boy and girl, dressed for a journey, 
 with handbag, shawl-strap bundle, bandbox, bird cage, 
 kitten in a basket, and three dolls, stand jDanting and 
 looking distractedly after a slowly departing train of 
 cars, consisting of four chairs laid on their backs on 
 the floor. The chairs are overlapped and tied together, 
 and between the round and seat of the foremost one 
 are two little boys, who act as motive power. One 
 holds his fist to his mouth, as in the act of blowing the 
 whistle, and the other is making the motions of ring- 
 ing the bell. 
 
 GUILTY? OR NOT GUILTY? 
 
 A court scene: Twenty-six boys; a judge in white 
 wig, spectacles, and red gown; two lawyers, one for 
 the Prosecution, and one for the Defense, in cue wigs 
 and black gowns; five witnesses for the Prosecution: 
 Arithmetic, Spelling, Geography, Reading, Writing; 
 five witnesses for the Defense: Skating, Croquet, 
 Kites, Boating, Base Ball; and the prisoner at the bar, 
 wearing a dunce cap. Twelve Jurors. The various 
 witnesses wear or carry the symbols of their parts. 
 Arithmetic has a multiplication table hanging around 
 his neck, and figures pinned to his sleeves. Spelling 
 displays on his person leaves from an old spelling bo(»k. 
 Geography carries a small globe, and has a map of the 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 1:31 
 
 world suspended from his neck. Reading has a large 
 alphabet card, and an open reading book. Writing 
 wears a wide, round collar, cut from a copy book, and 
 deep cuffs of the same turned back over his sleeves. 
 
 The witnesses for the Defense display respectively: 
 A pair of skates, croquet mallet and balls, two or 
 three kites of different sizes, a pair of oars, and a base 
 ball and bat. 
 
 Judge. — The proper formalities having been com- 
 plied with in this case, the prisoner stands arraigned 
 at this bar to answer the dreadful charge of being a 
 Dunce. 
 
 Counsel for Pros. — First witness, Reading. 
 
 Heading. — May it please the Court, the prisoner has 
 always shown from his earliest infancy a great inapti- 
 tude for, and, I may say, a fixed dislike to the noble 
 art of Reading. He was twice whipped and three 
 times shut up in a dark closet, before he would even 
 say " A." After he could read words he was heard to 
 say that he wished he had never learned, for now he 
 would have to get lessons, besides. He always drawls 
 his words so as to take all the sense out of them when 
 he is reading aloud, and when he is reading to himself 
 he yawns at every third line, and looks out of the win- 
 dow every fourth one. In short, he is a Cadmean 
 Dunce. 
 
 Counsel for Def. — Were any other allurements than 
 the rod and the dark closet associated with his early 
 acquaintance with letters? 
 
 Counsel for Pros. — I think that question should be 
 ruled out, your Honor. 
 
132 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 Judge. — The question is admitted. 
 
 VitnesB. — I do not know of any other. I do not 
 see what 
 
 Judge. — Ruled out. 
 
 Counsel for Pros. — Second witness, Spelling. 
 
 Spelling. — When I first became acquainted with the 
 prisoner, he was. struggling to prevent the entrance of 
 a-b, ab, into his infant mind. Since then he has pur- 
 sued a consistent course, and he has fought the spell- 
 ing book at every step with a persistence worthy of a 
 better cause. 
 
 Counsel for Defense. — We have heard that expres- 
 sion before. 
 
 Counsel for Pros. — The learned counsel shows con- 
 tempt of Court. 
 
 Judge. — The learned counsel will take care. 
 
 Counsel for Def. [To witness]. — How many lines 
 of spelling did he have to learn when he was six years 
 old. 
 
 Counsel for Pros — I object. 
 
 Counsel for Def. — May it please the Court, it is ac- 
 cording to precedent. 
 
 Judge. — The question is admitted. 
 
 Witness. — 1 think not more than four. 
 
 Counsel for Pros. — Third witness, iVrithmetic. 
 
 Arithmetic. — Never shall I forget my first impres- 
 sions of the prisoner. He was learning two I's are 2, 
 two 2's are 4, and when he got to two 6's he stayed on 
 it three weeks b3fore he could or would get over 
 it. It is certain that he doesn't know his 5 table yet, 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 133 
 
 and as for numeration, notation, weights and meas- 
 ures, and fractions, he has been kept in them till his 
 teacher is worn to a shadow. He is an Arithmetical 
 Dunce. 
 
 Counsel for Def. — How high was he made to numer- 
 ate and notate when he began to learn numbers? 
 
 W^itness. — Not higher than vigintillions. 
 
 Counsel for Pros. — Fourth witness, Geography. 
 
 Geography. — The prisoner has always been a great 
 trial and care to me ever since he refused, at the be- 
 ginning of his geography lessons, to believe that the 
 earth is a globe or ball. He also despises the state- 
 ment that there is only one- fourth land and three- 
 fourths water. He says any one can see for himself 
 that it isn't such a sloppy world as that. That is only 
 a specimen of his whimsical obstinacy. When 
 pressed by his excellent teacher to learn about the 
 seasons, lest he should mortify her when he grew up 
 by not knowing the difference between winter and 
 summer, he pertly replied that he guessed he could 
 "tell by the hotness ". He cannot bound his own 
 State. He is a Geographical Dunce. 
 
 Counsel for Def. — What Geography had he to be- 
 gin on at six years of age? 
 
 W^itness. — Mitchell's large; none better. 
 
 Counsel for Pros. — Fifth witness. Writing. 
 
 'Writing. — The copy books of the accused are a- 
 sight to behold. Dragons, butterflies, caricatures of 
 his teachers (painfully well executed), plans of bridges, 
 and a plenteous sprinkling of blots greet his distracted 
 
134 WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 writing-master's eyes. His straight linoi niid O's 
 would shame a four-year-old. He is beyond a hair- 
 line of doubt a Chirographical Dunce. 
 
 Counsel for Def, — First witness for defeuoe, Skating. 
 
 Skating. — When the accused was fir?t put in jacket 
 and pants, my acquaintance with him began. I can 
 testify that whatever may be his deficiencies in such 
 trifling matters as the mulitiplication table, straight 
 lines and O's, he early displayed the most beautiful 
 skill in making figures and drawing lines of beauty on 
 the ice. I dare assert most positively that the base 
 charges that are brought against him, if not wholly 
 false, are not worth mentioning in comparison with the 
 good things that can be said of him in connection 
 with the glorious and intellectual sports, coasting and 
 skating. 
 
 Counsel for Pros. — How often did he steal time 
 from his lessons to perfect himself in these glorious 
 arts? 
 
 Counsel for Def. — That question is not according to 
 precedent. 
 
 Counsel for JPros. — The learned gentlemen will find 
 that it is according to a notable precedent in the case 
 of Bog vs. Frog. 
 
 Judge. — Question is admitted. 
 
 JVUness. — I have no means of knowing; but if 
 
 Judge. — Ruled out. 
 
 Counsel for Def. — Second witness for defense, Cro- 
 quet. 
 
WORIv AxVD PLAY. 
 
 135 
 
 Oroquet. — On the fourth of last July I witnessed a 
 croquet match in which the accused took a conspicu- 
 ous part, and I dare affirm that if he cannot bound his 
 own State, he can send a ball through two wickets in 
 the most scientific manner, and he can dismiss the 
 balls of his adversaries to foreign parts with a deadly 
 certainty. Master of the Mallet, Rover of Rovers, 
 First at the Stake. 
 
 Counsel for Pros. — Our enthusiastic friend was nofe 
 called to argue this case. 
 
 Counsel for Def. — Third witness for Defense, Kites. 
 
 Kites. — The accused has long been well known to 
 me, and if devotion to newspaper literature, and a 
 ready hand at turning the heaviest editorials, and the 
 puffiest advertisements to good account in the high art 
 of kite- making and flying, means anything, I can tes- 
 tify that the accused is not a dunce, and never was, 
 and never will be. 
 
 Counsel for I) ef. — Fourth witness for Defense, Boat- 
 ir\g. 
 
 Boating. — There isn't a boy in all the town that 
 handles an oar better than the prisoner. I speak what 
 I know, for many is the race I have seen him take on 
 the river; and I have never seen him beaten yet. 
 
 Counsel for Def. — Fifth witness for Defense, Base 
 Ball. 
 
 Base Ball. — I can testify that the accused is Cham- 
 pion of the "Picked Nine" of our club; and I can 
 state from certain knowledge that he has risen to that 
 distinguished position by exertions and endurance un- 
 
136 TSORK AND PLAY. 
 
 equaled. I know for certain that he has more crooked 
 joints on his hands, and that he has had in time past 
 more thumps on various parts of his person than anv 
 other Base Bailer in the field. 
 
 Counsel for Pros. — I feel that little is required of me 
 after the startling array of testimony oflFered by the 
 witnesses for the Prosecution. Whipped and closeted 
 for not saying, " A," unable to grapple successfully 
 with Two I's are 2, revolting at a-b, ab, repelling the 
 very globe he dwells on, and running the risk of being 
 compelled to make his mark, instead of signing himself 
 legibly " Dunce." what, I ask this Courc, and these 
 gentlemen of the Jury, what more, except the cap that 
 so well becomes him this moment, is necessary to 
 prove the awful charge which he is called to answer I 
 
 Counsel for Def — If my learned adversary feels that 
 little is incumbent on him, still less do I need to utter 
 a word of my own in behalf of my client. I simply call 
 attention to the incredible revelations which the cross- 
 questioning of the witnesses for the Prosecution has 
 elicited. 
 
 If the prisoner is a dunce for not saying " A " and 
 learning a-b, ab, and Two 6's, and the form of the 
 earth, and the script alphabet, what shall we say of the 
 tutors and tutresses who have used such inconceivable 
 incentives as rods and dark closets, and who have be- 
 wildered a brain which has been shown in the most 
 conclusive manner to be one of no mean order, with 
 their vigintillions, and Mitchell's large, and four lines 
 of spelling, for a mere babe of six years? 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 137 
 
 Judge. — In charging this intelligent Jury, I would 
 have them deeply impressed with the importance of 
 the case before them, and the urgent duty which is 
 laid upon them of sifting with great care the testimony 
 laid before them, and of weighing with the greatest 
 precision the arguments that have been deduced there- 
 from. Let them remember that these deeply, deeply 
 aggrieved Branches of Education, these outraged 
 " Three R's " that have testified here, may be quite 
 too sensitive to any slighting of their claims; but, on 
 the other hand, let them not forget that the festive 
 witnesses for the Defense may equally lay too much 
 stress upon the accomplishments they claim for the 
 accused. Above all, let them take time. 
 
 [The Jury withdraw.] 
 
 Judge. — In all probability the Jury will be out sev- 
 eral months. The inconvenience of sitting till their 
 return is evident. The Court will, therefore, rise. 
 
NOTHING BETTER 
 
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 SCRAP BOOK RECITA- 
 TION SERIES. 
 
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 Price, postpaid, Cloth, 50 cents; Paper, 25 cents. 
 
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 CONTENTS OF NO. 1 
 
 Keep the Mill A-going. 
 
 Faces in the Fire. 
 
 In School Davs. 
 
 The Two Roads. 
 
 Extreme Unction. 
 
 Baron Grimalkin's Death. 
 
 Words and Their Uses. 
 
 Fritz's Troubles. 
 
 Two Christmas Eves. 
 
 An jjnterview Between the School 
 
 Directors and the Janitor. 
 To the Memory of the late Brlgham 
 
 Young. 
 How Liab and I Parted. 
 Old Grimes' Hen. 
 The Average Modern Traveler. 
 At My Mother's Grave. 
 The Newsboy's Debt. 
 Mrs. Potts' Dissipated Husband. 
 I See the Point. 
 The Professor in Shafts. 
 Mr. Sprechelheimer's Mistake. 
 God's Time. 
 The Little Folks. 
 The Old Schoolmaster. 
 The Revolutionary Rising. 
 Pet's Letter. 
 How to Go to Sleep. 
 Nothing. 
 
 De Pen and De Swoard. 
 A Greyport Legend— 1797. 
 The Life-Boat is a gallant Bark. 
 Birthday Gifts. 
 The Superfluous Man. 
 Sockery Setting a Hen. 
 
 J The Water that Has Passed. 
 Medley— Marv's Little Lamb. 
 The Launch of the Ship 
 Aunt Kindly. 
 Evening at the Farm. 
 Battle of Beal An' Duine. 
 Passing Away. 
 
 Mark Twain and the Interviewer. 
 Daybreak. 
 True Life. 
 Modern Loyaltv. 
 Unfinished Still. 
 Allow for the Crawl. 
 The Silent Tower of Bottreaux» 
 Gentility. 
 The Drunkard. 
 The Poetical Patch Quilt. 
 What is Life ? 
 Art Thou Living Yet ? 
 ISew Year's Chime. 
 Song of the Chimney. 
 A Domestic Tempest. 
 Common Sense. 
 How Mr. Coffin Spelled it. 
 The Old Man in the Palace Car. 
 Ego and Echo. 
 A Night Picture. 
 A Penitent. 
 Riim's Ruin. 
 The Babies. 
 What Is It to Me? 
 Our First Commander. 
 Horseradish. 
 The Doom of Claudius and Cynthia^ 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price. 
 
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 CONTENTS OF No. 2. 
 
 Albert Drecker, Pathetic Thonas J. Hyatt 5 
 
 Better in the Morning, Pathetic Bev. Leander 8. Coan 6 
 
 Blue Sky Somewhere Vera 9 
 
 Wounded, Battle Poem J. W. Watson V2 
 
 Papa's Letter, Pathetic 14 
 
 Grandfather's Reverie, Pathetic Theodore Parker Iti 
 
 The Old Village Choir Benj. F. Taylo- 18 
 
 At the Party Elizabeth Stuart Phelps 19 
 
 Romance at Home, Humorous Fanny Fern 2\ 
 
 The Legend of the Organ Builder Harper'^s Magazine 23 
 
 I Vash So Glad 1 Vash Here, very Humorous 25 
 
 Der Do^ und der Lobster, Humorous Saul Sertrew 2G 
 
 What was His Creed? 28 
 
 Dedication of Gettysburg Cemetery Abraham Lincoln 29 
 
 Time Turns the Table, Excellent :0 
 
 The Man Who Hadn't Any Objection, Humorous ::!2 
 
 The Soldier's Mother, Sentimental :3:i 
 
 " De Pervisions, Josiar." Humorous :^ 
 
 A Response to Beautiful Snow, Sentimental Sallie J. Hancock :% 
 
 The Defence of Lucknow, Heroic Tennyson 35 
 
 A Model Discourse, Humorous ^i 
 
 My Darling's Shoes 4i 
 
 The Volunteer Soldiers of the Union Robert 6. Ingersoll 44 
 
 Life, Compilation Mrs. H. A. Darning 46 
 
 The Old-Fashioned Mother 47 
 
 De 'Sperience ob de Reb Tend Quacko Strong, Humorous 48 
 
 A Heart to Let 50 
 
 Jimmy Butler and the Oyvl, Humorous. Aiwnymous 51 
 
 Presentiments, Pathetic ■. T. S. Be'nison 54 
 
 Eloquence or Oratory 56 
 
 Raising the Flag at Sumter fleni^y Ward Beecher 57 
 
 Parrhasius and the Captive N. P. Willis 59 
 
 Portent Celia Thaxter .62 
 
 He Wasn't Ready, Humorous m 
 
 The Old Clock in the Corner Evqene J. Hall 64 
 
 An Illustration, Fine Description Rexi. Philip Rrohn, D. D 66 
 
 The Seven Stages Anon i,7nous 68 
 
 The Bells of Shandon Francis Mahony 69 
 
 Circumlocution on The House that Jack Built, Fine 71 
 
 The Brakeman goes to Church, Humorous Bnrdette 73 
 
 Address to Class of '77, Knox College President Bateman 75 
 
 Bay Billy, Battle Incident Frank H. Gassaway 78 
 
 The Flood and the Ark, Humorous Darkey Sermon 82 
 
 The Steamboat Race. Mark Twain 85 
 
 Battle of Gettysburg Chas. F. Ward 90 
 
 A Connubial Eclogue, Humorous J. G. Saxe &A 
 
 The Chambered Nautilus Oliver W. Holmes 95 
 
 Ascent of Fu-si-Yama Dora Schoonmaker Soper 96 
 
 1 he Musician's Tale, Splendid Sea Tale Longfellow 98 
 
 Vera Victoria u. M. Soper 104 
 
 Ruining the Minister's Parrot, very Funny 106 
 
 The Irish Philosopher, Humorous . lOS 
 
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