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Dear Children, all who love to read, 
 This is a pretty book indeed j 
 In which you find instruction true, 
 Deriv'd from pretty stories too. 
 
GLEANINGS FOR THE NURSERY: 
 
 'I 
 
 OR A 
 
 COLLECTION OF STORIES. 
 
 Selected auty ©rfjjtnaL 
 
 By One who has learned them all. 
 
 
 NORTHAMPTON....]. H. BUTLER. 
 1835. 
 

 
 j£3££. 
 
 Metcalf. Printer. 
 
 Northampton. 
 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1835, 
 By J. H. Butler, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Many of the verses, of which this little book is compos- 
 ed, were, many years since, at different times, and in va- 
 rious collections, given to the public ; but it is believed 
 that the greater part of them have been for a long time 
 out of print. Many of them were retained only in the 
 memory of the compiler. They, were thought to have suf- 
 ficient merit to be collected and published in a little differ- 
 ent form. Some of them are original ; sufficient, if ap- 
 proved, to add to the value of the work ; and too few, if 
 not approved, to destroy its character. 
 
 Such stories may, if properly used, do much towards 
 forming the character and habits of children. They are, 
 very early, pleased with the external appearance of a book, 
 and they will feel the soothing influence of rhymes, long 
 before they can read or understand them. Tt is recom- 
 mended to mothers to repeat these and similar stories to 
 their children, from their very infancy. By saying them 
 a few times they will themselves be perfectly familiar with 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 them, and will be able to repeat them to the child, 
 who is looking at the picture, without any hindrance to 
 their necessary employments. In this way, children have 
 been known to commit to memory hundreds of verses, and 
 even pages of simple prose, before they were three years 
 of age ; and this practice has laid the foundation for a 
 love of books through life. 
 
 There is another use which may be made of such sto- 
 ries. Each story has a moral, and a very young child 
 will feel the force of it. And in case of misbehavior, re- 
 peating one of these will frequently produce a more pow- 
 erful effect than the most severe reproof. For example, a 
 child refuses to be washed, or perhaps cries, the mother 
 says, " What, cry to be washed, not love to be clean V im- 
 mediately she sees a smiling countenance. 
 
 It is with the hope of some little good done in these 
 ways, that these little poems are brought before the pub- 
 lic, 
 
 Northampton, Jan. 15, 1835. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 The Cat, 
 
 The kind Sister, 
 
 The Present, 
 
 The little Dog-, 
 
 The sleepy Boy, 
 
 The new Dolls, 
 
 Polite Children, 
 
 The rude Girl/ 
 
 The good Scholar,, 
 
 Dinner, 
 
 The Poppy ; 
 
 A crying- Girl, 
 
 Naughty Children, 
 
 The wax Doll, 
 
 Careless Maria, 
 
 The fall, 
 
 The alarm, 
 
 The Fan, 
 
 The Rose, 
 
 Poisonous Fruit, 
 
 The Cat drowned, 
 
 The new Penny, 
 
 Why Dolly cannot read, 
 
 Going to bed, 
 
 The Glow-Worm, 
 
 The cut face, 
 
 The Robin, 
 
 The Stranger, 
 
 The bird's nest, 
 
 A proud Boy, 
 
 A kind Girl, 
 
 The poor Sailor, 
 
 A cross child, 
 
 The idle Boy, 
 
 My Father, 
 
 A cruel child, 
 
 Anna, 
 
 9 
 10 
 11 
 12 
 13 
 14 
 15 
 16 
 17 
 18 
 19 
 20 
 21 
 
 25 
 26 
 27 
 28 
 30 
 31 
 33 
 34 
 35 
 37 
 38 
 40 
 41 
 42 
 44 
 46 
 47 
 48 
 49 
 51 
 (A 
 56 
 
 Who made the flowers, 58 
 
 To a little child, 60 
 
 Good children, 62 
 
 The cruel thorn, 63 
 
 The chimney sweeper, 64 
 
 Spring, 65 
 
 Quarrelsome Tray, 68 
 
 Unkindness cured. 69 
 
 Daily Praise. 70 
 
 The lost knife, 72 
 
 The new mother, 73 
 
 The absent sister. 74 
 
 The Orphan, 75 
 
 The unkind sister. 77 
 
 Envy, 81 
 
 The Good-bye, 87 
 
 The walk. 88 
 
 Evening, 92 
 
 Happy at home, 93 
 
 Generosity, 100 
 
 Gratitude, 104 
 Steam-boat on Lake Ontario. 107 
 Winter, ' 108 
 
 The crowd, 110 
 
 The remedy, 112 
 
 The miller's wife, 115 
 
 Pride unhappy, 125 
 
 Pouting cured, 133 
 
 Never play with fire, 134 
 
 The Ghost, 136 
 The sailor and the monkeys 140 
 
 The snow storm, 145 
 
 The Winter King, 150 
 
 Love of Home, 153 
 
 What is Pleasure, 156 
 
 The parting Bible, 158 
 
Gleanings for the Nursery. 
 
 THE CAT. 
 
 Come, pretty Cat, 
 Come here to me ! 
 
 I want to pat 
 You on my knee. 
 
 Go naughty Tray ! 
 
 By barking thus 
 You'll drive away 
 
 My pretty Puss. 
 
10 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE KIND SISTER. 
 
 Sister Frances is sad, 
 Because Henry is ill ; 
 
 And she lets the dear lad 
 Do whatever he will. 
 
 Left her own little chair, 
 And got up in a minute, 
 
 When she heard him declare 
 That he wish'd to sit in it. 
 
 Now, from this we can tell, 
 He will never more teaze her ; 
 
 But when he is well, 
 
 He will study to please her. 
 
THE NURSERY. 11 
 
 THE PRESENT. 
 
 O dear ! what a beautiful doll, 
 My sister has bought at the fair ; 
 
 She says, I must call it " Miss Poll," 
 And make it a bonnet to wear. 
 
 O pretty new doll, it looks fine ! 
 
 Its cheeks are all cover'd with red ; 
 But pray will it always be mine ? 
 
 And pray may I take it to bed ? — 
 
 How kind was my sister to buy 
 
 This Dolly with hair that will curl, 
 
 Perhaps if you want to know why, 
 She'll tell you I've been a good girh 
 
12 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE LITTLE DOG. 
 
 Come hither, little dog, to play, 
 And do not go so far away, 
 
 But stand and beg for food ; 
 And if your tail I chance to touch, 
 You must not snarl so very much ; 
 
 Pray, Pompey, be not rude. 
 
 The dog can eat and drink and sleep, 
 And help to fetch the cows and sheep- 
 O see how Pompey begs ! 
 
THE NURSERY. 13 
 
 Hark ! hark ! he says, bow wow ! bow wow ! 
 But run away, good Pompey, now, 
 You'll tire your little legs. 
 
 THE SLEEPY BOY. 
 
 Get up, little boy ! you are sleeping too long, 
 Your brother is dress'd, he is singing a song, 
 
 And Tom must be waken'd, O fie ; 
 Come, open the curtains and let in the light, 
 For children should only be sleepy at night, 
 
 When stars may be seen in the sky. 
 
14 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE NEW DOLLS. 
 
 Miss Jenny and Polly, 
 
 Had each a new Dolly, 
 With rosy red cheeks and blue eyes ; 
 
 Drest in ribbons and gauze : 
 
 And they quarrel'd because 
 The dolls were not both of a size. 
 
 O silly Miss Jenny ! 
 
 To be such a ninny ! 
 To quarrel and make such a noise ; 
 
 For that very same day 
 
 Their mama sent away 
 The "dolls with red cheeks and blue eyes. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 15 
 
 POLITE CHILDREN. 
 
 Good little boys should never say, 
 " I will," and " Give me these ;" 
 
 O no ! that never is the way, 
 But, " Mother, if you please." 
 
 And " if you please," to sister Ann, 
 Good boys to say are ready ; 
 
 And " Yes Sir," to a gentleman, 
 And " Yes Ma'am," to a lady. 
 
 ■ 
 
16 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE RUDE GIRL. 
 
 As Frances was playing and turning around, 
 Her head grew so giddy she fell to the ground ; 
 
 J Twas well that she was not much hurt; 
 But O, what a pity ! her frock was so soiFd! 
 That had you beheld the unfortunate child, 
 
 You had seen her all cover'd with dirt. 
 
 Her mother was sorry, and said, " Do not cry, 
 And Mary shall wash you, and make you quite dry, 
 
 If you'll promise to turn round no more." 
 " What, not in the parlor?" the little girl said, 
 "No, not in the parlor; for lately I read, 
 Of a girl who was hurt with the door." 
 
 " She was playing and turning, until her poor head 
 Fell against the hard door, and it very much bled, 
 
 And I heard Doctor Camomile tell, 
 That he put on a plaster and covered it up, 
 Then gave her some tea that was bitter to sup, 
 
 Or perhaps it had never been well." 
 
THE NURSERY. 17 
 
 THE GOOD SCHOLAR. 
 
 Joseph West had been told, 
 
 That if when he grew old, 
 He had not learned rightly to spell, 
 
 Though his writing were good, 
 
 'Twould not be understood, 
 And Joe said " I will learn my task well. 5 
 
 And he made it a rule, 
 To be silent in school, 
 And what do you think came to pass 1 
 2 
 
18 GLEANERS FOR 
 
 Why he learned it so fast, 
 That from being the last, 
 He soon was the first in his class. 
 
 DINNER. 
 
 Miss Kitty was rude at the table one day, 
 
 And would not sit still on her seat ; 
 Regardless of all that her mother could say, 
 From her chair little Kitty kept running away 
 All the time they were eating the meat. 
 
 But as soon as she saw that the beef was re- 
 mov'd, 
 She ran to her chair in great haste ; 
 But her mother such giddy behavior reprov'd 
 By sending away the sweet pudding she 
 lov'd, 
 Without giving Kitty one taste. 
 
THE NURSERY* 19 
 
 THE POPPY. 
 
 High on a bright and sunny bed? 
 
 A scarlet poppy grew, 
 And up it held its staring head, 
 
 And held it out to view. 
 
 But no attention did it win, 
 • By all these efforts made, 
 And less offensive had it been, 
 In some retired shade. 
 
 For though within its scarlet breast* 
 No sweet perfume was found, 
 
 It seemed to think itself the best* 
 Of all the flowers around. 
 
 From this may I a hint obtain, 
 And take great care indeed, 
 
 Lest I should grow as pert and vain, 
 As is this gaudy weed*. 
 
20 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 A CRYING GIRL. 
 
 As Peggy was crying aloud for a cake, 
 Which her mother had said she would fetch 
 from the wake, 
 A gentleman knock'd at the door ; 
 He enter'd the parlor and show'd much sur- 
 prise, 
 That it really was Peggy who made all the 
 noise, 
 For he never had heard her before. 
 
 Miss Peggy, ashamed, and to hide her dis- 
 grace, 
 Took hold of her frock and quite cover'd her 
 face, 
 For she knew she was naughty just then ; 
 Then instantly wiping the tears from her eyes 
 She promised her mother to make no more 
 noise, 
 And kissed her again and again. 
 
 i 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 21 
 
 NAUGHTY CHILDREN. 
 
 When children are naughty, and will not be 
 drest, 
 
 Pray what do you think is the way ? 
 Why often I really believe it is best, 
 
 To keep them in night-clothes all day ! 
 
 But then they can have no good breakfast to 
 eat, 
 Nor walk with their mother and aunt ; 
 
2% GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 At dinner they'll have neither pudding nor 
 meat, 
 Nor any thing else that they want. 
 
 Then who would be naughty and sit all the 
 day, 
 In night-clothes unfit to be seen ! 
 And pray who would lose all their pudding 
 and play, 
 For not being drest neat and clean ? 
 
THE NURSERY. 23 
 
 THE WAX DOLL* 
 
 Miss Lucy was a charming child, 
 
 .She never said " I won't, 55 
 If little Dick her playthings spoiFd, 
 
 She said " Pray Dicky, don 5 k" 
 
 He took her waxen doll one day, 
 And bang 5 d it round and round, 
 
 Then tore its legs and arms away, 
 And threw them on the ground. 
 
 His good mama was angry quite, 
 
 And Lucy 5 s tears ran down, 
 But Dick went supperless that night, 
 
 And since has better grown. 
 
24 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 CARELESS MARIA. 
 
 Maria was a careless child, 
 
 And griev'd her friends by this ; 
 Where'er she went, 
 Her clothes were rent, 
 Her hat and bonnet spoiled ; 
 A careless little miss ! 
 
 Her gloves and mits were often lost, 
 Her tippet sadly soird : 
 You might have seen, 
 Where she had been, 
 Her toys all round were tost : 
 O what a careless child ! 
 
 One day her uncle bought a toy 
 That round and round would twirl, 
 But when he found 
 The litter'd ground, 
 
THE NURSERY. 25 
 
 He said, I won't te-totums buy, 
 For such a careless girl. 
 
 THE FALL. 
 
 Miss Sophy, on one summer day, 
 Left her work and ran away ; 
 When soon she reach' d the garden gate, 
 Which finding barr'd she would not wait, 
 But tried to climb and scramble o'er 
 As high a gate as any door ! 
 
 But little girls should never climb ; 
 And Sophy won't another time : 
 For, when upon the highest rail, 
 Her frock was caught upon a nail ; 
 She lost her hold and sad to tell, 
 Was hurt and bruised, for down she fell. 
 
' 
 
 26 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE ALARM. 
 
 A very young lady, 
 With Susan the maid, 
 
 Who carried the baby, 
 Were one day afraid. 
 
 They saw a cow feeding, 
 Quite harmless and still ; 
 
 Who scream'd, without heeding 
 The man at the mill : 
 
 Who seeing the flutter, 
 Says, cows do no harm, 
 
 But send you good butter, 
 And milk from the farm. 
 
THE NURSERY. 27 
 
 THE FAN. 
 
 Maria's aunt who liv'd In town, 
 Once wrote a letter to her niece, 
 And sent wrapp'd up a new half crown, 
 Besides a pretty pocket-piece. 
 
 Maria jump'd with joy and ran 
 To tell her sister the good news, 
 She said, I mean to buy a fan, 
 Come, come along with me to choose. 
 
 They quickly tied their hats and talk'd 
 Of yellow, lilac, pink, and green, 
 But far the sisters had not walk'd, 
 Before the saddest sight was seen. 
 
 Upon the ground a poor old man, 
 Helpless and old, had tumbled down ; 
 She thought no more about the fan, 
 And gave to him her new half crown. 
 
28 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE ROSE. 
 
 Dear mother, said a little boy, 
 This rose is sweet and red, 
 
 Then tell me pray the reason why, 
 I heard you call it dead. 
 
 I did not think it was alive, 
 
 I never heard it talk, 
 Nor did I ever see it strive 
 
 To run about or walk. 
 
 My dearest boy, the mother said, 
 This rose grew on a tree, 
 
THE NURSERY. 29 
 
 But now its leaves begin to fade, 
 And all fall off you see. 
 
 Before, when growing on the bough, 
 
 So beautiful and red, 
 We say " it lived," but withering now, 
 
 We say " the rose is dead." 
 
 
30 GLEAMHGS FOR 
 
 POISONOUS FRUIT. 
 
 As Tommy and his sister Jane, 
 Were walking down a shady lane, 
 They saw some berries ripe and red, 
 Which hung around and overhead. 
 
 And soon the bough they bended down, 
 To make the scarlet fruit their own, 
 And part they ate, and part in play, 
 They threw about and flung away. 
 
 But long they had not been at home, 
 Before poor Jane and little Tom, 
 Were taken sick and ill to bed, 
 And since I've heard they both were dead. 
 
 Alas ! had Tommy understood, 
 That fruit in lanes is seldom good, 
 He might have walk'd with little Jane 
 Again along that shady lane. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 31 
 
 THE CAT DROWNED. 
 
 When Jacky drown'd our poor cat Tib, 
 He told a very naughty fib, 
 
 And said he had not drown'd her ; 
 But truth is always soon found out, 
 No one but Jack had been about 
 
 The place where Thomas found her. 
 
 And Thomas saw him with the cat, 
 Though Jacky did not know of that, 
 And told papa the trick j 
 
32 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 He saw him take a slender string, 
 And round poor pussy's neck then swing 
 A very heavy brick. 
 
 His parents being very sad, 
 To find they had a boy so bad, 
 
 To say what was not true ; 
 Determined to correct him then, 
 And never was he known again, 
 
 Such naughty things to do. 
 
THE NURSERY. 33 
 
 THE NEW PENNY. 
 
 Miss Ann saw a man 
 
 Quite poor, at a door, 
 And Ann had a pretty new penny ; 
 
 Now this the kind miss 
 
 Threw pat in his hat, 
 Although she was left without any. 
 
 She meant as she went, 
 
 To stop at a shop, 
 Where cakes she had seen a great many ; 
 
 And buy a fruit-pie, 
 
 Or take home a cake, 
 By spending her pretty new penny. 
 
 But well I can tell 
 When Ann gave the man 
 Her money, she wished not for any ; 
 He said, I've no bread, 
 3 
 
84 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 She heard and preferr'd, 
 To give him her pretty new penny. 
 
 WHY DOLLY CANNOT READ. 
 
 Dolly, can you read 1 
 Now pray tell me why 
 You cannot, I'm sure 
 You are older than I. 
 
 Here's a beautiful book, 
 You have pretty bright eyes, 
 Come now, let us see 
 If you really are wise. 
 
 You have eyes, but no mind, 
 I have eyes and mind too ; 
 A hint let me take, 
 To do better than you. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 35 
 
 GOING TO BED. 
 
 The babe was in the cradle laid, 
 And Tom had said his prayers, 
 
 When Frances told the nursery maid, 
 She would not go up stairs. 
 
 -*f 
 
 She cried so loud her mother came 
 
 To ask the reason why, 
 And said, " O Frances ! fie, for shame ! 
 
 O fie ! O fie ! O fie !" 
 
36 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 But Frances was more naughty still, 
 And Betty sadly nipp'd, 
 
 Until her mother said " I will, 
 I must have Frances whipp'd." 
 
 " For O, how naughty 'tis to cry ! 
 
 And worse, much worse to fight, 
 Instead of running readily, 
 
 And calling out, Good-night." 
 
THE NURSERY. 37 
 
 THE GLOW-WORM. 
 
 Oh ! what is that which shines so bright, 
 
 My mother, on the ground ; 
 And sheds a ray of pale blue light, 
 
 On every thing around. 
 
 It is the glow-worm's light you see, 
 
 A simple grub at most ; 
 But yet it has a quality 
 
 No other creatures boast. 
 
 If you observe this worm by day, 
 
 No beauty you will find ; 
 'Tis darkness only can display 
 
 The wonders there combin'd. 
 
 A useful lesson you may glean 
 From this poor simple worm ; 
 
 There's not a creature e'er so mean, 
 But goodness may adorn. 
 
38 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE CUT FACE. 
 
 " This box, little Lydia can put in its place," 
 
 Said her uncle so feeble and lame, 
 So he gave her his razor shut up in its case, 
 
 And bade her take care of the same. 
 
 But Lydia had seen one so polish'' d and bright, 
 
 In the hand of her uncle display 'd ; 
 And when she was once fairly out of his sight, 
 She open'd the case and beheld with delight, 
 
 The beautiful handle and blade. 
 
 She met her young sister, " Dear Abby," she said, 
 
 " This beautiful thing only see ; 
 Sit down here directly and hold up your head, 
 
 And I'll shave you as nice as can be." 
 
 Little Abby consented, and straight they begin 
 
 Their dangerous play with delight, 
 But, Oh ! the first stroke brought the blood from her chin, 
 
 And they both scream'd aloud with affright. 
 
 At the sound of their voices their mother appear'd, 
 And well might such figures amaze her, 
 
THE NURSERY. 39 
 
 For one little girl was with blood all besmear'd, 
 And the other was holding a razor. 
 
 Now Abby was wash'd and a plaster they bring, 
 
 For a wound on the face most befitting, 
 And Lydia was told what a terrible thing, 
 
 She had been on the point of committing. 
 
 Both resolv'd for the future, such playthings to shun, 
 And well they've remembered the warning, 
 
 For I've heard of no mischief that either has done, 
 Since that most unfortunate morning. 
 
40 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE ROBIN. 
 
 One winter's day the wind blew high, 
 And fast came down the snow ; 
 
 A Robin, much too weak to fly, 
 Hopp'd in the yard below. 
 
 While Emma at the window stood, 
 
 Nor ran the bird to take ; 
 Who, when he peck'd a little food, 
 
 Began his wings to shake. 
 
THE NURSERY. 41 
 
 He soon reviv'd, and from that day, 
 Kind Emma's guest has been, 
 
 And often when the children play, 
 Sweet little Bob is seen. 
 
 THE STRANGER. 
 
 Who knocks so loudly at the gate ? 
 The night is dark, the hour is late, 
 
 And rains come pelting down ; 
 O, 'tis a stranger ! gone astray, 
 Who comes to ask the nearest way, 
 
 To yonder little town. 
 
 Why 'tis a long and dreary mile, 
 For one o'ercome with cold and toil ; 
 
 Go to him Charles and say, 
 Good stranger, here repose to-night, 
 And with the morning's earliest light, 
 
 We'll guide you on your way. 
 
42 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE BIRD'S NEST. 
 
 What makes my Robert look so bright, 
 And clap his hands for joy ; 
 
 Those eyes his mother's heart delight ; 
 Come here my darling boy. 
 
 Oh ! I have got the sweetest nest ! 
 
 The birds can almost fly ! 
 I want to know what food is best 
 
 To give them when they cry. 
 
 Dick took the nest and gave it me ; 
 
 I hope they will not die : 
 Do mother come with me and see 
 
 How prettily they lie. 
 
 O, cruel child ! how could you take 
 
 The little birds away ? 
 Listen ! what piteous cries they make ! 
 
 To me they seem to say — 
 
THE JNTURSERY. 43 
 
 Come, dearest mother, bring us food 
 And warmth, or we shall die ; 
 
 A monster took us from the wood, 
 Shiv'ring with cold we lie. 
 
 Poor little things, you cry in vain ! 
 
 Your parents cannot hear ; — 
 Indeed, I'll not do so again 
 
 Said Robert, with a tear. 
 
 And faithfully he kept his word ; 
 
 For even to this day, 
 If Richard offers him a bird, 
 
 He always walks away. 
 
44 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 A PROUD BOY. 
 
 1 tell you again, as I told you before, 
 
 I have nothing to give you, so ask for no more : 
 
 Have gentlemen's sons nothing better to do 
 
 With their money, than give it to poor folks like you ? 
 
 Oh, be not so cross, Sir, I would not offend ! 
 I thought by your looks, that you would be a friend ; 
 For my father is sick, and my mother is dead ; 
 I wish I were able to work for my bread. 
 
 And is that your wish then, my good little man ? 
 Said a voice from behind ; will you work if you can ? 
 Oh, yes, was the answer, I would with great joy — 
 Then come to my gard'ner, he'll give you employ. 
 
 But you, my young gentleman, what have you done ? 
 I am sorry I've reason to blush for my son : 
 Fine clothes and kind treatment are badly bestovv'd, 
 For I see they have made you ill-natur'd and proud. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 45 
 
 This poor little boy, though so shabbily dress' d, 
 Has more of true greatness, than you in his breast ; 
 For believe me, that pride sinks you far beneath those 
 Who work for their parents, their food, and their clothes, 
 
46 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 A KIND GIRL. 
 
 Don't cry, little girl, for you make me cry too, 
 
 We soon shall reach good mama's d6or, 
 Who will give me, I'm certain, some victuals for you, 
 
 As she has done for many before. 
 
 Then dry up your tears now, and don't look so sad, 
 
 Your mother will soon be quite well ; 
 Eat this cake, it is part of a great one 1 had 
 
 For learning to read and to spell. 
 
 Do you learn to spell, and to read, and to write? 
 
 O no, miss, my friends are too poor, 
 My father is working from morning to night, 
 
 And my mother will never work more. 
 
 Then tears ran afresh down poor Fanny's pale cheek ; 
 
 Just then they had reaoh'd Mary's home, 
 Who ran to the parlor, unable to speak, 
 
 Where her mother was sitting alone. 
 
 What ails you, my Mary ? come, answer, my child ! 
 
 Oh, Fanny is waiting below : 
 And then thro' her tears with such sweetness she smil'd, 
 
 When her mother said, " Fetch her up, go." 
 
THE NURSERY. 47 
 
 No sooner the lady poor Fanny's tale heard, 
 
 Than she went to the cottage of woe ; 
 When soon, by her kindness, distress disappear'd, 
 
 And Fanny to school is to go. 
 
 THE POOR SAILOR. 
 
 " Oh, pity a poor sailor, kind ladies, I pray, 
 Who wanders in darkness amid the broad day ! 
 My eye-sight I lost in a battle at sea : 
 Will no one have pity — have pity on me ? 
 
 My children, in vain to your father you cry ! 
 With sorrow he hears while he cannot supply 
 The cravings of hunger ; for helpless is he, 
 And no one has pity — has pity on me ! 55 
 
 Twas thus a blind sailor bewaiFd his sad plight, 
 
 While a dog ran before to direct him aright ; 
 
 And oft to this friend of his path murmur'd he, 
 
 " Tis hard my poor Tray, thou should'st suffer with me." 
 
 Not long had he wander 'd, when quick from the door 
 Of a cottage, came forth the kind friend of the poor, 
 Who heard his sad tale, then from want set him free, 
 And whisper'd, " Kind Heaven has pity on thee. 55 
 
48 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 A CROSS CHILD. 
 
 Young Nancy had a baby -house, 
 And tables, beds and chairs, 
 
 And cups and plates and baskets too 
 Of apples, plums and pears. 
 
 But Nancy was a naughty child, 
 And spoiPd her sister's play ; 
 
 She flew in passions loud and wild, 
 When Mary wished to stay. 
 
 One day she made her sister cry, 
 And gave her such a blow, 
 
 Their mother, who was passing by, 
 Came in, the cause to know. 
 
 Nancy to bed was sent away, 
 
 Not so her little sister, 
 For when she was quite tir'd of play, 
 
 Her mother nurs'd and kiss'd her. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 49 
 
 THE IDLE BOY. 
 
 Dirty and ragged Richard goes, 
 In idleness he spends the day ; 
 
 He will not work to get him clothes, 
 But loves about the streets to play. 
 
 His parents toil from morn to night, 
 To clothe and feed their darling son, 
 
 Who will not make it his delight - 
 To cheer them when their work is done. 
 4 
 
50 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 In vain his mother's tears will flow ; 
 
 Nor threats nor promises can move ; 
 No hour of comfort can they know, 
 
 For Dick does not repay their love. 
 
 Ah, cruel child ! a day will come 
 When both your parents are at rest ; 
 
 When thro 5 the streets with grief you'll roam, 
 And feel no joy within your breast. 
 
THE NURSERY. 51 
 
 MY FATHER. 
 
 Who taught me on a stick to stride, 
 Or on his fav'rite nag to ride 
 And guide the bit on either side 1 
 
 My Father. 
 
 Who drove the hoop to make me gay, 
 And show'd me how at taw to'play, 
 Or spun the top to cheer the day ? 
 
 My Father. 
 
 When first a whimpering school-boy I, 
 At leaving home would often cry, 
 Who wip'd the tear from off my eye 1 
 
 My Father. 
 
 And bade me strive the prize to gain, 
 
 A sweet reward of all the pain 
 
 Of learning, which the good obtain? 
 
 My Father. 
 
52 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 When next youth's flowery paths I trod, 
 And lost the fear of cane and rod 5 
 Who taught my soul to fear my God 1 
 
 My Father. 
 
 And bade me shun the syren wiles 
 Of pleasure, ne'er to court her smiles, 
 Which oftea end in pain and toils 1 
 
 My Father. 
 
 And when my little bark first sail'd 
 On life's gay stream, with joy I hail'd 
 The port, my home, where love ne'er fail'd, 
 
 My Father. 
 
 Surely when pain or age assail, 
 
 My love shall cheer thee down the vale 
 
 Of sinking life, nor ever fail, 
 
 My Father. 
 
THE NURSERY. 53 
 
 And when at length thou'rt calPd away 
 To realms of everlasting day, 
 My tears shall wet thy mould'ring clay, 
 
 My Father. 
 
 O, never may one deed of shame, 
 Of mine, disgrace thy honored name, 
 To rob thee of thy spotless fame, 
 
 My Father. 
 
 «fcs£: 
 
54 
 
 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 A CRUEL CHILD. 
 
 Mary Ann a brother had, 
 Who was indeed a pretty lad ; 
 But what will very much surprise, 
 He had a trick of teazing flies. 
 
 One day his sister was from home, 
 And little James was quite alone ; 
 A fly upon the table flew ; 
 Oh, oh ! said he : I'll soon have you. 
 
THE NURSERY. 55 
 
 And then he tortur'd the poor thing, 
 By pulling off a leg and wing : 
 He thought, as nobody was near, 
 He had no other cause of fear* 
 
 But soon, this naughty boy to cure, 
 A wasp, (he had not seen before) 
 His hands and face so sorely stung, 
 That with the pain his hands he wrung. 
 
 He cried, and stamp'd, and ran about ; 
 His father soon the cause found out ; 
 It serves you right, my son, said he ; 
 I hope it will a warning be. 
 
 But if again I find that you 
 The little harmless flies pursue, 
 Some other method I shall find, 
 Nor will the whip be far behind. 
 
56 
 
 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 Homely, but clean, is Anna's cot, 
 And briskly burns her little fire ; 
 
 Contented with her humble lot, 
 
 Ne'er do her thoughts to wealth aspire. 
 
 And while her wheel goes quickly round, 
 With heartfelt joy she sits and sings, 
 
THE OTRSERY. 57 
 
 No tiresome languor there is found, 
 Her moments fly with fairy wings. 
 
 But would you know what makes her glad ? 
 
 An aged mother with her dwells ; 
 A nephew too, a little lad, 
 
 Who all her work at market sells. 
 
 Thus she, with gratitude, repays, 
 The debt she to a parent owes ; 
 
 And by a thousand tender ways, 
 Strives to alleviate her woes. 
 
 Mind, Richard, well remember this, 
 And think to Anna much is due, 
 
 When grown a man, be not remiss, 
 
 But work for those who've work'd for you. 
 
58 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 WHO MADE THE FLOWERS. 
 
 Mother, how can the flowers grow 1 
 
 Said little Ann one day ; 
 The garden is all over snow, 
 
 When will it go away 1 
 
 The sun, my love, will melt the snow, 
 And warm the frozen ground ; 
 
 But many a wintry wind will blow, 
 Before the flowers are found. 
 
 In a few months, my Ann will view 
 The garden, now so white, 
 
 With yellow cowslip, violet blue, 
 And daffodil so bright. 
 
 The birds will then, from every tree, 
 Pour forth a song of praise ; 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 59 
 
 Their little hearts will grateful be, 
 And sweet will sound their lays. 
 
 For God, who dwells in yonder sky, 
 Made them as well as you ; 
 
 He gave them little wings to fly, 
 And made their music too. 
 
 He gave my little girl her voice, 
 To join in prayer and praise ; 
 
 Then may she ever more rejoice 
 To learn her Maker's ways ! 
 
60 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 TO A LITTLE CHILD. 
 
 O, turn that little foot aside, 
 Nor crush beneath its tread, 
 
 The humblest creature of the earth, 
 That looks to God for bread. 
 
 Thou should'st not dare in wanton sport, 
 Such wondrous skill to mar, 
 
 To stop that joyous tide of life, 
 Which God hath nourish'd there. 
 
 If he who made the universe, 
 Stoops down in kindest love, 
 
 To make an insect of the earth* 
 From his high throne above. 
 
 O, who should dare that insect's life, 
 
 In wantonness destroy, 
 Or give a pang to any thing, 
 
 That he has made for joy ? 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 My child, begin in little things, 
 
 To act a gentle part, 
 For God will turn his love away, 
 
 From every cruel heart. 
 
 61 
 
62 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 GOOD CHILDREN. 
 
 Said William to Lucy, on looking one day, 
 
 At a shop full of beautiful toys ; 
 With a doll, my dear sister, how nice you could play, 
 
 And here's top, whip, and bat, for us boys. 
 
 Last Monday, my aunt gave me sixpence, you know, 
 
 For repeating my lesson so clear ; 
 So into the shop 1 declare I will go, 
 
 For I dare say the toys are not dear. 
 
 Stop, William, said Lucy, for do you not see 
 
 A poor little girl standing by ? 
 Sweet Master and Miss, O have pity on me, 
 
 Or with hunger I surely shall die. 
 
 Do pray give me something, though ever so small ; 
 
 No food have I tasted this day ; 
 Take this sixpence, said William, I give you it all, 
 
 Then with Lucy tript happy away. 
 
THE NURSERY. 63 
 
 THE CRUEL THORN. 
 
 A bit of wool sticks here upon this thorn, 
 Ah, cruel thorn to tear it from the sheep, 
 
 And yet perhaps with pain its fleece was worn, 
 Its coat so thick, a hot and cumbrous heap. 
 
 The wool a little bird takes in his bill, 
 
 And with it, up to yonder tree he flies ; 
 A nest he's building there with matchless skill, 
 
 Compact and close, that storm and rain defies. 
 
 To line that nest, the wool so soft and warm, 
 Preserves the eggs which hold its tender young, 
 
 And when they're hatch'd, that wool will keep from harm 
 The callow brood, until they're fledg'd and strong. 
 
 Thus birds find use for what the sheep can spare ; 
 
 In this, my child, a wholesome moral spy, 
 That when the poor shall crave, thy plenty share, 
 
 Let thy abundance thus their wants supply. 
 
64 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER. 
 
 Sweep, sweep ! sweep, sweep ! cries little 
 
 Jack, 
 With brush and bag upon his back, 
 
 And black from head to foot ; 
 While daily as he goes along, 
 Sweep, sweep ! sweep, sweep ! is all his song, 
 
 Beneath his load of soot. 
 
 But then he was not always black ; 
 O no ; he once was pretty Jack, 
 
 And had a kind papa : 
 But, silly child, he ran to play, 
 Too far from home, a long, long way, 
 
 And did not ask mama. 
 
 So he was lost, and now must creep, 
 
 Up chimney, crying sweep ! sweep ! sweep 
 
THE NURSERY, 
 
 65 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 O 'tis Spring ! 'tis the beautiful Spring, 
 And the trees are all blooming around, 
 
 And see how the tender young grass, 
 Covers over the face of the ground. 
 
 The birds are all building their nests, 
 And can scarce spare a moment to eat, 
 
 Yet they now and then stop on the spray, 
 And pour forth a carol most sweet. 
 
 5 
 
6G GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 The sheep are ideas' d from the fold, 
 
 To nibble their delicate meal ; 
 And the lambkins as merry as May, 
 
 Are gamboling over the hill. 
 
 The oxen are loos'd from the barn, 
 And patiently bend to the yoke : 
 
 The stubble is burning in piles, 
 
 And beclouds all the field with its smoke. 
 
 Every creature that lives is at work, 
 To provide for the season to come ; 
 
 And he must be tilling the ground, 
 
 Who would have loaded wagons go home. 
 
 Then I will be idle no more, 
 But study as hard as I can ; 
 
THE NURSERY. 67 
 
 And a good stock of knowledge lay up, 
 To use when I'm grown to a man. 
 
 And as this is the spring of my life, 
 The seeds of all goodness I'll sow, 
 
 That as fast as my years shall increase, 
 In my heart every virtue may grow. 
 
 And to do all the good in my power, 
 Shall be every minute's employ ; 
 
 And then when my seasons are past, 
 I shall reap a rich harvest of joy. 
 
68 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 QUARRELSOME TRAY. 
 
 Away, naughty Tray, 
 I'm glad you are gone, 
 I shall sorrow all day, 
 For what you have done. 
 
 Nor can I forget, 
 
 As long as I live, 
 
 How you wounded my pet, 
 
 And caus'd me to grieve. 
 
 n x 
 
 And when you are dead, 
 I'm afraid you'll be hated, 
 And dogs in your stead, 
 For you be ill treated. 
 
 If passions inflate us, 
 (I tell you before ;) 
 Many will hate us, 
 When we are no more. 
 
THE NURSERY. 69 
 
 UN KINDNESS CURED. 
 
 Little sister, come to me, 
 Kisses I will give to thee, 
 For I love thee very well, 
 More than any tongue can tell. 
 
 Well I know, that in our play, 
 I was cross the other day ; 
 But, my sister will forgive, 
 And in peace we now shall live. 
 
 But if I should once forget, 
 And be more ill-natured yet, 
 Think not, wicked passions prove, 
 I have not a sister's love. 
 
 Day by day I'll pray to God, 
 When I ask for daily food, 
 That my temper may be mild, 
 And I be a pleasant child. 
 
70 
 
 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 DAILY PRAISE. 
 
 O Lord ! my infant voice I raise, 
 
 Thy holy name to bless ! 
 In daily songs of thanks and praise, 
 
 For mercies numberless. 
 
 For parents \yho have taught me right, 
 That thou art just and true ; [ 
 
 And though unseen by my weak sight, 
 Thou seest all I do. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 71 
 
 Let all my thoughts, and actions rise 
 
 From innocence and truth ; 
 And thou, O God ! wilt not despise 
 
 The prayer of early youth. 
 
 Since through thy power I live and move, 
 
 And say " thy will be done," 
 Perfect in mercy and in love 
 
 The work thou hast begun. 
 
72 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE LOST KNIFE. 
 
 Deep sadness mark'd young Willie's face, 
 As he came in and took his place ; 
 He sobb'd and cried, for in his play, 
 He lost his knife among the hay. 
 
 Though each one strove to comfort give, 
 Though much we gave, he'd none receive ; 
 For well he knew our comfort vain, 
 To find his knife, or soothe his pain. 
 
 And then his father led the boy, 
 To search the barn and find the toy ; 
 And then they search'd and search'd again, 
 And turn'd the hay, but all in vain. 
 
 But though the knife was in the hay, 
 Yet now his tears were dried away ; 
 For Willie said, since I can't find it, 
 I'll careful grow, and never mind it. 
 
THE NURSERY. 73 
 
 THE NEW MOTHER. 
 
 Mother, dear mother, that sound how sweet, 
 Gladly do we that word repeat ; 
 Lately we fear'd that never again, 
 Our tongue would utter so dear a name. 
 
 We often strive, when at night we meet, 
 To get the nearest to mother's seat ; 
 And we feel so glad to see her there, 
 Instead of her vacant rocking-chair. 
 
 Mother, we thank thee that thou hast come, 
 To make so cheerful our quiet home ; 
 And every evening our prayer shall be, 
 That we may be very kind to thee. 
 
 And at last in glory may we meet, 
 All there, without one vacant seat ; 
 To Jesus then shall our praise be given, 
 For a mother to guide us all to heaven. 
 
74 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE ABSENT SISTER. 
 
 I have a sister dear, 
 But she went far away, 
 
 My mother shed a tear, 
 And not a word did say. 
 
 How sad I feel at night, 
 
 When work and play are done, 
 I miss those eyes so bright, 
 
 At every rising sun. 
 
 And when the circle meet, 
 To say our evening prayer, 
 
 There is a vacant seat, 
 For Mary is not there. 
 
 I long for spring to come, 
 The birds and flowers to see, 
 
 She then will be at home, 
 How happy we shall be ! 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 75 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 My father and mother are dead, 
 No friend or relation I have ; 
 
 And now the cold earth is their bed, 
 And daisies grow over their grave. 
 
 I cast my eyes into the tomb, 
 The sight made me bitterly cry, 
 
 I said " and is this the dark room 
 
 Where my father and mother must lie.' 
 
76 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 I cast my eyes round me again, 
 In hopes some protector to see ; 
 
 Alas ! for the search was in vain, 
 For none had compassion on me. 
 
 I cast my eyes up to the sky, 
 
 I groan'd, though I said not a word 
 
 But God was not deaf to my cry, 
 The friend of the fatherless heard. 
 
 O yes ! — and he graciously smil'd, 
 And bid me on him to depend ; 
 
 He whisper'd, " fear not, little child, 
 For I am thy father and friend.'' 
 
THE NURSERY. 77 
 
 THE UNKIND SISTER. 
 
 Mother. 
 
 fie ! Amelia, I'm asham'd 
 To hear you quarrel so ; 
 
 Leave off those naughty airs, my child, 
 Go play with Frances, go. 
 
 Amelia. 
 
 1 shan't, mama, the little minx 
 
 May play with whom she can, 
 And while she lives she shall not have 
 My waxen doll again. 
 
 With any other little girl, 
 
 I should be glad to play ; 
 But I don't love our Frances, ma', 
 
 I wish she'd go aWay. 
 
 Mother. 
 
 Poor little Betsy Smith ! she sits 
 Day after day alone, 
 
78 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 She had a little sister once, 
 But now she's dead and gone. 
 
 Betsy was quite a fretful child, 
 And when she us'd to play 
 
 With pretty little Emmeline, 
 She'd quarrel every day. 
 
 One time her sister said to her, 
 
 Don't, Betsy, be so cross, 
 Indeed, I am not well to day, 
 
 And fear I shall be worse. 
 
 Not well ? O yes, you're very sick, 
 
 I don't believe it's true ; 
 You only want to coax mama 
 
 To get nice things for you. 
 
 But Emmeline grew worse and worse, 
 Till she could scarcely speak ; 
 
 And when the doctor came, he said 
 She would not live a week. 
 
THE NURSERY. 79 
 
 And then it rushed on Betsy's mind, 
 
 How wicked she had been, 
 Her cruel treatment of the child, 
 
 She never felt till then. 
 
 Over her sister's bed she hung, 
 
 With many a bitter sigh, 
 And laid her arm around her neck, 
 
 And begg'd her not to die. 
 
 Forgive me, Emmeline, or else 
 
 I do not wish to live ; 
 O ! speak, dear sister, speak once more, 
 
 And say you will forgive. 
 
 The poor weak suffering dying child, 
 
 Just rais'd her languid eye ; 
 And mov'd her lip and tried to say, 
 
 Dear Betsy, do not cry. 
 i 
 And then, O then, I thought, indeed, 
 
 That Betsy's heart would break ; 
 
80 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 She cried, she sobb'd, and the tears stream'd 
 In torrents down her cheek. 
 
 Her mother took her by the hand, 
 
 To lead her from the bed ; 
 She cast her weeping eyes behind, 
 
 And Emmeline was dead. 
 
 And now she goes away up stairs, 
 
 To sit and cry alone, 
 And does not want to laugh and play, 
 
 Since Emmeline is gone. 
 
 Amelia. 
 
 How dull I feel ! come Fanny dear, 
 
 And we will go and play ; 
 And you shall have my waxen doll, 
 
 And keep it every day. 
 
THE NURSERY, 
 
 81 
 
 ENVY. 
 
 Child. 
 
 I wish I had a coach, mama — 
 Oh ! how I should delight to ride 
 
 Where'er I pleas'd, like Jenny Wright, 
 And have a servant by my side. 
 
 The other day, as Ann and I 
 
 Were walking down the meadow lane, 
 Along whirl'd Mr. Wright's new coach, 
 
 With who, forsooth, but little Jane ! 
 6 
 
82 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 The man drove slow that Miss might view 
 The pleasant prospect all around ; — 
 
 How proud she felt that she could ride, 
 While we were walking on the ground. 
 
 A sweet-briar bush peep'd through the 
 hedge, 
 
 And so we climb'd the hedge with care, 
 And pick'd some pretty rosy wreaths, 
 
 And bound them in each other's hair. 
 
 Soon as she saw what we had done, 
 Straight to the place her servant ran, 
 
 And stripped the bush of all its flowers, 
 To make a wreath for madam Jane. 
 
 And then we tripp'd across the field 
 
 To pick some strawberries, Ma, for you ; 
 
 But still the servant follow'd us, 
 For Miss must have some strawberries too. 
 
THE NURSERY, 83 
 
 She seem'd resolv'd to make us see, 
 That she would have just what she pleas'd ; 
 
 And then she turn'd and drove away. 
 And so I hope her mind was eas'd. 
 
 What was it, Ma, that vex'd me so, 
 And spoil'd the pleasure of the day 1 
 
 I should have had a charming walk, 
 If that old coach had kept away ! 
 
 Mrs. Milner. 
 
 'Twas envy, child, an odious sin, 
 
 It springs from ignorance and pride ; 
 
 You griev'd to see another taste 
 Enjoyments to yourself denied. 
 
 But little do we know, indeed, 
 
 What people feel, from what is seen ; 
 
 I'll tell you something that will show 
 What an ungrateful girl you've been. 
 
84 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 The little Miss you envied so, 
 
 Liv'd six long months in constant pain ; 
 A strange disorder seiz'd her feet, 
 
 And she will never walk again. 
 
 I chanc'd to be at Mr. Wright's, 
 
 That very day when Jane came home ; 
 
 Her brother took her in his arms, 
 
 And brought her sobbing in the room. 
 
 Her mother tenderly inquir'd, 
 
 What made her weep : Alas ! she cried, 
 Mama, why did you urge your child, 
 
 To seek for pleasure in a ride ? 
 
 At first I look'd with some delight 
 On the fresh fields so green and gay, 
 
 When two young misses tripp'd along, 
 As merry as the birds in May. 
 
THE NURSERY, 85 
 
 They laugh'd, they jump'd, they climb'd the 
 hedge, 
 
 For flowers their pretty wreaths to twine. 
 And then they sprang across the fields. 
 
 To gather strawberries from the vine. 
 
 Ah ! happy, happy girls, I cried, 
 
 Just like the little lambs you bound ; 
 
 You walk and run where'er you please, 
 And need no coach to. ride around. 
 
 I breath'd a deep and sorrowing sigh, 
 The tears fast trickled down my cheek ; 
 
 Turn, turn, I cried, oh, turn away, 
 Let me my home, my mother seek. 
 
 Oh, turn, and carry me away, 
 
 Each object gives my heart a pain ; 
 
 And let me in my chamber hide, 
 And never see a coach again. 
 
86 
 
 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 And now, Melinda, do you wish 
 You was like Jenny Wright to ride 
 
 Within a coach, where'er you pleas'd, 
 And have a servant at your side ? 
 
THE NURSERY. 87 
 
 THE GOOD-BYE. 
 
 Thou art bound to the South, 
 
 The land of soft breezes, 
 To the home of thy youth, 
 
 Where every thing pleases. 
 
 Thou art quickly to pass, 
 
 Where warm hearts entwine thee, 
 And unwilling, alas ! 
 
 To such we resign thee. 
 
 Though their sun is so bright, 
 And so sweet are their flowers, 
 
 Ne'er will friends greet thy sight, 
 Like those left in our bowers. 
 
 Thou wilt think of the North, 
 And memory shall teach thee ? — 
 
 So we'll treasure thy worth, 
 
 When our eyes cannot reach thee ! 
 
88 
 
 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE WALK. 
 
 Charlotte, see the mid-day sun, 
 Sheds around a golden light ; 
 
 And every leaf that meets his ray, 
 Glitters gaily to the sight. 
 
 Let us find some shady seat, 
 
 To screen us from his scorching beam ; 
 Yonder is a pleasant wood, 
 
 Close beside a cooling stream. 
 

 THE NURSERY. 89 
 
 Let us sit upon the bank, 
 
 And see the river glide along, 
 
 Underneath that spreading tree, 
 And listen to the swallow's song. 
 
 Now the lowing thirsty kine, 
 
 Hasten to the river's brink ; 
 Joyfully they view the stream, 
 
 And bend their gentle necks to drink. 
 
 Hark ! I hear a dashing sound, 
 
 Just below yon jutting rock ; 
 O ! 'tis yonder shepherd boy, 
 
 Standing there to wash his flock. 
 
 See them dripping from the stream, 
 With their fleeces snowy white ; 
 
 Soon those fleeces will be shorn, 
 
 And they will sport with new delight. 
 
90 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 Around their bodies, soft and warm, 
 Another woolly coat will grow, 
 
 To guard them from the piercing storm, 
 When the winds of winter blow. 
 
 How kind is God who made them all ! 
 
 And blesses every thing that lives ! 
 That God who life and health and joy, 
 
 To every little being gives ! 
 
 Holy angels he preserves, 
 
 In their beautiful abodes, 
 And the smallest thing on earth 
 
 Is within the care of God ! 
 
 Charlotte, what can you return, 
 To a friend so good and kind ; 
 
 Give him all your little heart, 
 Serve him with a willing mind. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 91 
 
 And if thus your life you spend, 
 Charlotte ! when your body dies, 
 
 You may go and dwell with God, 
 And holy angels in the skies. 
 
92 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 The sun is set, the schools are done ; 
 The boys and girls are all come home ; 
 And now they want their supper quick, 
 Come Betty, get the pudding-stick. 
 
 And see the cows have left the dale, 
 Come Peggy, run and get your pail, 
 And milk as fast as e'er you can, 
 And strain it in the largest pan. 
 
 Now get some bowls and dip it out, 
 And drop the pudding all about ; 
 Come now, dear children, come and eat, 
 Your pudding's hot, your milk is sweet; 
 O ! what a lovely supper this is, 
 For masters and for little misses. 
 
 Now bid Good-night, and go up stairs, 
 And when you all have said your prayers, 
 Undress and go to bed, and sleep, 
 Till morning light begins to peep. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 93 
 
 HAPPY AT HOME. 
 
 Mrs. Chandler. 
 
 Almira, go and get your work 
 And sit with me, ray dear ; 
 
 And Emma, you may read to us, 
 We will with pleasure hear. 
 
 Two little misses so employed, 
 
 Is a delightful sight, 
 And after tea the time's your own, 
 
 And you may play till night. 
 
94 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 Emma, why do you look displeas'd ? 
 
 Don't you approve my plan ? 
 Well, alter it yourself, my dear, 
 
 And mend it if you can. 
 
 Emma. 
 
 I'm tir'd of sitting here so still, 
 
 Mama, with only you — 
 I'm tir'd of home — I'm tir'd of work, 
 
 I'm tir'd of reading too. 
 
 And only just Almira here, 
 If I should want to play, — 
 
 If I'd my will, I'd go abroad 
 Most gladly every day. 
 
 Mrs. Chandler. 
 
 Emma, do you know Peggy Hill ? 
 
 That little modest child, 
 Who sometimes comes on errands here ? 
 
 She lives with Mrs. Wild. 
 
THE NURSERY. 95 
 
 She came the other day when you 
 
 Were sitting here with me ; 
 Almira sew'd, you had a book, 
 
 And read most prettily. 
 
 She tried to do her errand twice, 
 But when she strove to speak, 
 
 I saw her turn aside and pass 
 Her hand across her cheek. 
 
 I thought it strange and led her out, 
 
 What ails you child, said I ? 
 Pray have you hurt yourself, or what 
 
 Can thus have made you cry 1 
 
 No ma'am, I am not hurt, she said, 
 
 I am to blame, I fear, 
 For such a tender sight as this 
 
 Will always force a tear. 
 
96 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 For I had precious parents once, 
 
 Affectionate and kind, 
 But they are gone — forever gone — 
 
 And left their babes behind. 
 
 I had a little sister too, 
 
 And many a pleasant day, 
 We with our mother worked and read 
 
 The cheerful hours away. 
 
 But when we lost our parents, ma'am, 
 
 Our living too was fled, 
 And we were plac'd in strangers' hands, 
 
 To earn our daily bread. 
 
 My sister did not long support 
 
 The hardness of our fate ; 
 She left this miserable world, 
 
 And sought a happier state. 
 
THE NURSERY. 97 
 
 Since that, IVe borne my heavy lot 
 
 Alone, without relief — 
 I have no friend to pity me, 
 
 Or listen to my grief. 
 
 My mistress lives in wealth and ease, 
 
 From want and sorrow free ; 
 She never knew what labor was, 
 
 And cannot feel for me. 
 
 I work from morn till night, and try 
 
 To please her all the while, 
 And think sometimes I'd give the world 
 
 To have one pleasant smile. 
 
 But every day I give offence, 
 
 In spite of all my care ; 
 And angry words and cruel blows, 
 
 It is my lot to bear, 
 
 7 
 
98 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 Ah ! little, madam, do the rich, 
 Who claim our constant aid, 
 
 Think of the sufferings that attend 
 A little servant maid. 
 
 When I am sick I creep away, 
 And seek my lowly bed, 
 
 But no kind sister follows me, 
 To hold my aching head. 
 
 No tender mother's soothing voice 
 Lulls my poor heart to sleep, 
 
 But on my long-lost home I think, 
 And lay alone and weep. 
 
 And then a gushing flood of tears 
 Stream'd down her pallid cheek — 
 
 She silent bent her trembling knee, 
 But had not power to speak, 
 
THE NURSERY, 
 
 99 
 
 Poor little friendless one, thought I, 
 The blessings you lament, 
 
 My children have, and yet they live 
 In fretful discontent. 
 
 Emma. 
 
 Give me the book, I love to read, 
 
 I love Almira too, 
 And every day, I'll read and work 
 
 With her, mama, and you. 
 
100 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 GENEROSITY. 
 
 Why, Phebe, have you come so soon, 
 Where are your blackberries, child, 
 
 You cannot sure have sold them all, 
 You had a basket piled. 
 
 No, mother, as I climb'd the stile, 
 
 The nearest way to town, 
 My apron caught upon a stake, 
 
 And so I tumbled down. 
 
 I scratch'd my arm, and tore my hair, 
 But still did not complain ; 
 
 And had my blackberries been safe, 
 Should not have car'd a grain. 
 
 But when I saw them on the ground, 
 
 All scatter'd by my side, 
 I pick'd my empty basket up, 
 
 And down I sat and cried. 
 
THE NURSERY. 101 
 
 Just then, a pretty little miss, 
 
 Chanced to be walking by, 
 She stopp'd and look'd so pitiful, 
 
 And begg'd me not to cry. 
 
 Poor little girl, you fell, said she, 
 
 And must be sadly hurt — 
 Oh ! no, I cried, but see my fruit 
 
 All mix'd with sand and dirt. 
 
 Well, do not grieve for that, she said, 
 Go home, and get some more ; 
 
 Ah, no, for I have stripped the vines, 
 These were the last they bore. 
 
 My father, miss, is very poor — 
 
 He works in yonder stall — 
 And has so many little ones, 
 
 He cannot clothe us all. 
 
102 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 I always long'd to go to church, 
 
 But never could I go ; 
 For when I ask'd him for a gown, 
 
 He always answered, no. 
 
 There's not a father in the world, 
 That loves his children more ; 
 
 I'd get you one with all my heart, 
 But, Phebe, I am poor. 
 
 But when the blackberries were ripe, 
 
 He said to me one day, 
 Phebe, if you will take the time, 
 
 That's given you for play, 
 
 And gather blackberries enough, 
 
 And carry them to town, 
 To buy your bonnet and your shoes, 
 
 I'll try to get your gown. 
 
THE NURSERY. 103 
 
 Oh, miss, I fairly jump'd for joy, 
 
 My spirits felt so light, 
 And so when I had leave to play, 
 
 I pick'd with all my might. 
 
 She caught her bonnet from her head, 
 Here, here, she cried, take this ; 
 
 Oh, no, indeed, I fear your ma 5 
 Would be offended, miss. 
 
 My ma 5 ! no, never ! she delights 
 
 All sorrow to beguile — 
 And 'tis the sweetest joy she feels, 
 
 To make the wretched smile. 
 
 She taught me when I had enough, 
 
 To share it with the poor, 
 And never let a needy child 
 
 Go empty from the door. 
 
104 GLEA1VTXGS FOR 
 
 GRATITUDE. 
 
 What have you in that basket, child ? 
 
 They're blackberries, miss, all pick'd to- 
 day, 
 They're very large and fully ripe, 
 
 Do look at them and taste them, pray, 
 
 O, yes, they're very nice, indeed, 
 
 Here's four-pence, that will buy a few, 
 
 Not quite so many as I could eat, 
 However, I must make it do. 
 
 Nay, miss, but you must take the whole — 
 I can't, indeed, my money's spent, 
 
 I should be glad to buy them all, 
 But I have not another cent. 
 
 And if you had a thousand, miss, 
 I'd not accept of one from you, 
 
THE NURSERY. 105 
 
 Pray take them, they are all your own, 
 And take the little basket too. 
 
 Have you forgot that little girl, 
 You gave, last year, a bonnet to ? 
 
 You may perhaps, but ever will 
 That little girl remember you. 
 
 While I was weeping on the ground, 
 
 As if my heart would break, 
 Think you I have forgot so soon, 
 
 The tear that wetted that dear cheek. 
 
 No, for it dropp'd upon my heart, 
 Though I'm a poor and lowly child, 
 
 That temper I must always love, 
 So kind, compassionate and mild. 
 
 And ever since, I've been to church, 
 
 For much do I delight to go, 
 And there I've learn'd that works of love 
 
 Are all that children have to do. 
 
106 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 And then I thought within myself, 
 
 That little basket Billy wove, 
 I'll fill with fruit for that dear miss, 
 
 For sure 'twill be a work of love. 
 
 And so, this morning up I rose, 
 
 While yet the fields were wet with dew, 
 And pick'd the nicest I could find, 
 
 And brought them fresh and sweet for you. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 107 
 
 STEAM-BOAT ON LAKE ONTARIO. 
 
 Onward, speed onward, bright bird of the Lake ! 
 Firm on thy course, though waves crest around thee, 
 Thy wings dipt in green — thy soul all awake, 
 The night hath pass'd safe, and the morning hath found 
 thee, 
 
 Onward, tread onward, 'mid islands and tides, 
 While gold hangs above, and pure airs embrace thee ; 
 Gems gild thy path, and rainbows thy sides, 
 No cares ever check, no troubles deface thee. 
 
 Away, and away, o'er the beautiful waves, 
 Firm in thy course, thou home of the stranger ! 
 Along the bright shores, that Ontario laves, * 
 We sleep in thy bosom, nor dream we of danger. 
 
108 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Spring, summer, and autumn are fled, 
 And the flowers and fruits disappear, 
 
 The trees are disrob'd of their dress, 
 For this is the night of the year. 
 
 Not a bird wings his way through the air, 
 Not a spire of green grass can be found, 
 
 The icicles hang from the bough, 
 
 And the snow mantles over the ground. 
 
 The river that gurgled so sweet, 
 Is confin'd with a bandage of ice ; 
 
 And the villagers crowd in the sleighs, 
 And scour o'er the plain in a trice. 
 
 The husbandman looks with delight, 
 To see how his garners are stor'd, 
 
 He spar'd not the sweat of his brow, 
 And now he enjoys his reward. 
 
 To break the hard soil of his farm, 
 He toil'd in the morn of the year, 
 
 And now has his crib filPd with corn, 
 Enough for himself, and to spare. 
 
THE NURSERY, 109 
 
 Beneath the fierce rays of the sun, 
 
 He mow'd through the long summer's day, 
 
 And now he rejoices to see 
 
 His barn crowded full of sweet hay. 
 
 The Being who governs mankind, 
 
 And prospers the work of their hands, 
 
 Will certainly smile on the child, 
 That tries to obey his commands. 
 
 Then let me look back on the year, 
 
 And if I have wasted my time, 
 I will double my diligence now, 
 
 To improve what remains of my prime. 
 
 And if every hour is employ'd, 
 
 In improving the benefits given, 
 At each closing year I shall find 
 
 I've advanc'd a year nearer to heaven. 
 
110 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE CROWD. 
 
 My dear little girl, now keep close by my side, 
 Or in this great crowd, we shall surely divide ; 
 I've here got you fast, so take hold of my gown, 
 And then the rude people will not push you down ; 
 For the Lord Mayor's fine coach it is passing along, 
 Which makes all the people now eagerly throng. 
 
 But Sally, she foolishly stared so about, 
 And when the crowd lessen'd she ran in and out, 
 Then carelessly stopping to look at some toys, 
 Was jostled and laugh'd at by many rude boys. 
 
 The mother soon missing her little girl's hand, 
 
 Became so alarm'd that she hardly could stand, 
 
 And for two anxious hours she was searching the street, 
 
 In hopes that her lost little girl she might meet, 
 
 Who indeed had become quite an object of pity, 
 
 And had wander'd along almost out of the city, 
 
 When, alas ! in a mean and dark dirty alley, 
 
 Some women took hold of our poor little Sally, 
 
 When instantly all her good clothes they were stripping, 
 
 And if she cried out, were preparing a whipping. 
 
THE NURSERY. Ill 
 
 But a gentleman hearing a bustle so odd, 
 And seeing some women had got a great rod, 
 Was luckily passing that instant close by, 
 And heard with astonishment Sally's loud cry. 
 
 He order'd the women to put down the child, 
 And spoke to the trembler in accents so mild, 
 And whilst he attended poor Sally's redressing, 
 She, terribly frighten'd her faults was confessing ; 
 And having escap'd from so cruel a beating, 
 O, think of the joy of the mother at meeting ; 
 And the poor little girl ever after took warning, 
 From what she had sufFer'd on that fatal morning, 
 
112 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE REMEDY. 
 
 Louisa was a pretty child, 
 Her temper flexible and mild, 
 She learnt her lessons all with ease, 
 And very seldom fail'd to please. 
 
 But still Louisa had a fault, 
 So fond of tasting sugar, salt, 
 Or any thing, in short, to eat, 
 Puddings, pies, or wine, or meat. 
 
 And as she was so often sick, 
 Mama soon guess'd the foolish trick, 
 And, planning for her little daughter, 
 By stratagem she fairly caught her. 
 
 Unseen, Louisa would remain, 
 And all the dirty glasses drain, 
 Or, carefully the closet shut, 
 Until a slice of cake she cut. 
 
THE NURSERY. 113 
 
 The dinner done, one winter's day, 
 And guests remov'd, their cards to play, 
 Louisa stole where they deserted, 
 And with her usual pranks diverted. 
 
 Here see this foolish greedy lass, 
 Draining the bottom of each glass, 
 Eating the parings of the fruit, 
 And scraping a pine-apple root. 
 
 When lo ! a tumbler caught her sight, 
 Which gave Louisa new delight, 
 For it appear'd half full of wine, 
 So sparkling and so clear and fine. 
 
 She drank it quick, and hardly tasted, 
 Not one drop of the liquor wasted ; 
 Had you that moment seen her face, 
 So much distorted by grimace, 
 
 8 
 
114 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 How she cried and stamp'd and sputter'd, 
 Complain'd, grew sick and faintly mutter'd, 
 Then sought the nursery and her bed, 
 And glad thereon to lay her head : 
 
 You soon, I think, had understood, 
 That wine, Louisa thought so good, 
 Was mix'd with physic, by her mother, 
 And slily plac'd there by her brother, 
 And from the sickness she endur'd, 
 Her love of tasting soon was cur'd. 
 
THE NURSERY. 115 
 
 THE MILLER'S WIFE. 
 
 Mrs. Stanhope. 
 
 Well, my dear children, I am glad 
 Your holydays are come ; 
 
 For much does it rejoice my heart, 
 To see you all at home. 
 
 But that you have behav'd so well, 
 Gives me still sweeter joy ; 
 
 For greatly does your happiness 
 Your mother's thoughts employ. 
 
116 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 The promise which I made you all, 
 
 Most strictly I regard, 
 And dearly do I love to give 
 
 My children their reward. 
 
 So here's a guinea, Charles, for you, 
 
 To buy that pretty sword, 
 Which, w T hen you ask'd me for, last spring, 
 
 I could not Avell afford. 
 
 And, Emma, one for you and Ann, 
 
 Between you to divide ; 
 As Charles is older than yourselves, 
 
 I hope you're satisfied. 
 
 Emma and Ann. 
 
 O ! yes, mama, there's quite enough, 
 
 We do not wish for more, 
 We never in our lives, indeed, 
 
 Had half so much before. 
 
THE NURSERY. 117 
 
 Mrs. Stanhope. 
 
 Well, now, my children, may I ask 
 
 What you intend to do 
 With all this money ! 'tis a sum 
 
 Of consequence to you. 
 
 Charles. 
 
 Why, I shall buy the sword, mama, 
 
 Before I sleep again — 
 Because our little company 
 
 To-morrow, mean to train. 
 
 Emma. 
 
 And I shall buy a locket, ma', 
 
 That I may always wear, 
 What I so long have wish'd to do, 
 
 A lock of your dear hair. 
 
 Ann. 
 
 Well, I shall buy a bosom-pin, 
 And have your name inscrib'd, 
 
118 GLEANIKGS FOR 
 
 That I may wear it next my heart, 
 Upon the under side. 
 
 Charles. 
 
 But, ma', methinks you look perplex'd, 
 
 With some unpleasant care — 
 You smile, — but then 'tis not the smile 
 That you are us'd to wear. 
 
 Pray tell me, is it any thing 
 
 That I have said or done ? 
 I hope, mama, I never shall 
 
 Be an ungrateful son. 
 
 Mrs. Stanhope. 
 
 Oh, no, my child, you ever have 
 
 Been dutiful and kind ; 
 Yet still there is a circumstance 
 
 That has perplex'd my mind. 
 
THE NURSERY. 119 
 
 You know the worthy family 
 
 Who liv'd below the hill ; 
 Poor Mr. Smith's — that clever man, 
 
 Who us'd to tend the mill. 
 
 Last spring, his wife and little ones, 
 
 Were very sick, you know ; 
 When they recovered, he was seiz'd, 
 
 And died a week ago. 
 
 This very morning, Mrs. Smith 
 
 Came here to ask relief; 
 Poor woman ! she look'd pale and thin, 
 
 And overwhelmed with grief. 
 
 Dear madam, I was loth to come, 
 
 And trouble you, she said ; 
 But new distresses seem'd to fall 
 
 Like torrents on my head. 
 
120 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 About the time my husband died, 
 
 We ow'd a quarter's rent ; 
 He laid it up, and would no doubt 
 
 Have paid it every cent. 
 
 But when our earnings all were stopp'd, 
 
 And we so long were ill, 
 I was oblig'd to take it all 
 
 To pay the doctor's bill. 
 
 My poor dear husband bought a cow, 
 
 Awhile before he died ; 
 Should I be taken now, said he, 
 
 You will be well supplied. 
 
 My eldest son can tend the mill, 
 
 He's now about sixteen, 
 My eldest daughter's turn'd of twelve. 
 
 And she has learn'd to spin. 
 
THE NURSERY. 121 
 
 I have besides, four little ones, 
 
 At home to be maintain'd ; 
 But still we made a shift to live, 
 
 And I have not complained : 
 
 'Till yesterday, our landlord came, 
 
 And sternly bade me pay ; 
 I told him all, and begg'd he'd grant 
 
 A little longer day. 
 
 Wait longer ? no, indeed, I won't, 
 
 Too long I've waited now — 
 So pay — or you'll march out of doors, 
 
 And I shall take your cow. 
 
 I could not answer him a word, 
 
 I'm willing to be poor — 
 But yet to lose my only cow, 
 
 And be turn'd out of door ! 
 
122 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 And then, and then — she stopp'd and chok'd, 
 
 And then, how could I live, 
 And hear my children cry for bread, 
 
 And have no bread to give. 
 
 I ask'd how much she ow'd the man 1 
 
 Two guineas, ma'am, said she, 
 And that's a heavy sum indeed, 
 
 For one so poor as me. 
 
 Poor woman, I am griev'd, said I, 
 
 To see you so distressed, 
 I'll think what can be done, and then 
 
 Advise you for the best. 
 
 But if the money can't be rais'd, 
 
 I know what must be done — 
 She'll have to give her children up, 
 
 And cast them on the town. 
 
THE NURSERY. 123 
 
 Charles. 
 
 Here, take this guinea, ma 5 , and pay 
 
 As far as that will go ; 
 I'd rather never have a sword, 
 
 Than see them suffer so, 
 
 Emma and Ann. 
 
 And ours, mama, do take it all, 
 
 And pay that cruel man ; 
 And pray make haste, before he comes 
 
 To frighten them again. 
 
 Mrs. Stanhope. 
 
 Come to my arms, my dearest loves — 
 
 I only meant to see, 
 Whether your little hearts were warm, 
 
 With sweet humanity. 
 
 I sav'd the money for the debt — 
 And never did I pay 
 
124 
 
 GLEAXIJVGS FOR 
 
 A sum away with such delight, 
 As I shall do this day. 
 
 Come, then, my children, let us go — 
 
 It is a blest employ 
 To cheer the fatherless and fill 
 
 The widow's heart with joy. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 125 
 
 PRIDE UNHAPPY. 
 
 Amelia. 
 
 What makes you wear that cotton frock 7 
 And such a plain morocco shoe ? 
 
 And homespun stockings, cambric gloves, 
 And such a coarse straw bonnet too ? 
 
 Look here, my shoes are yellow kid — 
 And spangled too — see how they shine- 
 
 My stockings silk — my bonnet's trimm'd, 
 And only see, the straw — how fine ! 
 
126 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 My frock is muslin work'd complete, 
 My gloves are of the nicest kid — 
 
 I've bracelets — and a breast-pin too — 
 They're very elegant indeed ! 
 
 Why, I should fret myself to death, 
 If I were dress'd as mean as you ; 
 
 I always cry and teaze mama 
 For every thing I see that's new. 
 
 Sometimes she scolds at me, and says, 
 I have a monstrous share of pride, 
 
 For let her buy me what she will, 
 I never can be satisfied. 
 
 And true enough, for when I'm dress'd 
 
 As much as ever I can be, 
 'Twould spoil the whole, if I beheld 
 
 Another better dress'd than me. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 127 
 
 Pray don't it vex you now to see, 
 
 My clothes so rich and yours so mean 1 
 
 If I were you I'd cry for things, 
 More fit and proper to be seen. 
 
 Rachel. 
 
 What, cry and teaze my dear mama 
 For finery ? that will not I — 
 
128 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 I would not grieve her for the world, 
 And she would grieve to see me cry. 
 
 She gives me every thing she can. 
 And that is every thing I want, 
 
 And I should be a cruel child, 
 
 To ask for more than she could grant. 
 
 Besides, from what you say yourself, 
 
 You're not content with what you have ; 
 
 The more fine things your mother gives, 
 The more fine things you say you crave. 
 
 My frock is clean — my stockings white, 
 My bonnet's good enough for me — 
 
 My shoes are whole — and I am dress'd 
 As well as I could wish to be. 
 
 We are not very rich, indeed ; 
 
 But then we're very far from poor : 
 We have enough to eat and drink ; 
 
 And what do people wish for more ? 
 
THE 1STTRSERY. 129 
 
 Amelia. 
 
 But what if there should be a ball, 
 And you should have a chance to go ? 
 
 And all the misses richly dress'd — 
 Would you appear among them so ? 
 
 Rachel. 
 
 A ball ! I never went to one — 
 
 We do not care for things like this ; 
 
 And yet we have amusement too, — 
 And I will tell you what it is, 
 
 I and my sisters take our turns, 
 
 To help our mother through the day ; 
 
 The others spin till day-light dawn, 
 And then the wheels are put away. 
 
 For then our father comes from work, 
 
 So after supper down we sit, 
 For that is what he loves to see, 
 
 And one will sew, another knit. 
 9 
 
130 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 And then he'll read some wondrous thing, 
 How mighty nations rose and fell ; 
 
 And sometimes lay aside the book, 
 And some amusing story telL 
 
 How some would climb the highest hill, 
 And yet go muttering all the way ; 
 
 And some would walk along the vale, 
 As pleasant as a summer's day.. 
 
 But this one thing I notic'd still, 
 
 Those who were good came off the best 
 
 And families who liv'd in love,, 
 Forever were the happiest. 
 
 My children, he would often say, 
 You know I cannot give you wealth, 
 
 But you have treasures richer far, 
 And these are innocence and healths 
 
THE NURSERY. 131 
 
 And while you live in peace and love, 
 Contented with the blessings given, 
 
 I trust you always will obtain 
 The favor of protecting heaven. 
 
 My children, these are golden hours, 
 They leave behind no stinging smart ; 
 
 And while I labor in the field, 
 The thought of evening cheers my heart. 
 
 No monarch's happier than me, 
 
 I envy not the rich their joys, 
 When I can see this smiling group 
 
 Of dear obedient girls and boys. 
 
 Now, Miss Amelia, should you think, 
 When I have pleasures such as these* 
 
 That I would cry for spangled shoes, 
 And my indulgent parents teaze 1 
 
132 
 
 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 But see ! while I stand talking here, 
 The sun has set and evening's come ; 
 
 80 you may go and dance at balls, 
 And I'll enjoy my friends at home. 
 
THE NURSERY. 133 
 
 POUTING CURED. 
 
 " My dear little Susan, now pray let me ask, 
 Why you are so careless in learning your task, 
 For crying and sulking will answer no end, 
 You had better by half to your lesson attend." 
 
 Thus spoke a good governess, prudent and mild, 
 To an obstinate, wilful, and tiresome child, 
 All methods attempted, both kind and severe, 
 But seldom call'd forth sensibility's tear, 
 And the scowl that such sulkiness left on her face, 
 Soon tarnish'd the bloom of each infantine grace. 
 
 So the governess finding no measures would do, 
 
 Adopted a plan efficacious and new ; 
 
 And then in the book where the child learn'd her spelling, 
 
 Which often had made her both sulky and swelling, 
 
 The governess fastened a small pocket glass, 
 
 Which reflecting the features of this little lass, 
 
 Show'd all their expressions so frightfully just, 
 
 That it fill'd her young bosom with shame and disgust, 
 
 And from this experiment, T understood, 
 
 Poor Susan was tractable, pleasing and good. 
 
134 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 NEVER PLAY WITH FIRE, 
 
 No little girl should play with fire, 
 
 When she is left alone ; 
 For from it accidents I've heard, 
 
 And one I've lately known. 
 
 The maid was careless, left the room, 
 
 And when again she came, 
 A screaming child she found, alas ! 
 
 Envelop'd in a flame. 
 
 The child had been too near the grate, 
 
 To throw some paper in, 
 Which blazing fast, she quickly felt 
 
 The heat upon her skin. 
 
 And when the fire had reach'd her frock, 
 
 Her terror was so great, 
 She ran about in wild dismay, 
 
 And saw her dreadful fate. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 135 
 
 Papa ! Mama ! she loudly call'd, 
 But, ah ! she call'd in vain ; 
 
 The maid put out the blazing fire, 
 Yet could not cure its pain. 
 
 And when mama came home at night, 
 How many tears sire shed, 
 
 To find her little girl so ill, 
 And helpless in her bed. 
 
 Good little children, now attend, 
 And mind mama's desire ; 
 
 That if, by chance, you're left alone, 
 You go not near the fire. 
 
136 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE GHOST. 
 
 Ye little children, all attend, 
 Whilst I a story mention, 
 
 And if I add it is quite true, 
 Say not, it is invention. 
 
 A pretty girl, of eight years old, 
 
 Was such a little fool, 
 That oftentimes, I have been told, 
 
 She cried at home and school. 
 
 And now the reason of her tears, 
 My verse shall quickly tell, 
 
THE NURSERY. 137 
 
 And how she overcame her fears, 
 When in the dark she fell ! 
 
 Yet why was she afraid ? you'll say ; 
 
 For children that are good, 
 Will learn their book, and then they'll play 
 
 All in a merry mood. 
 
 But to pursue my little tale, 
 
 This child, when in the dark, 
 Would creep along, and then turn pale, 
 
 And murmur out, O hark ! 
 
 She listen'd to each foolish story, 
 
 'Bout witches, goblin, ghost, 
 And all as true as Jack o' Nory ; 
 
 But fairies fear'd the most. 
 
 If sent up stairs by candle-light, 
 She'd quickly run and sing, 
 
138 GLEANINGS FOE. 
 
 Lest she should Fancy, in her fright, 
 She saw some great black thing. 
 
 One winter's eve, she ran so fast, 
 
 Her candle it extinguish'd ; 
 And in the dark a something pass'd, 
 
 But what, was not distinguish'd. 
 
 This something warm clung round her leg, 
 And made a murmuring sound ; 
 
 At first the child began to beg, 
 But soon fell on the ground. 
 
 It now pass'd over both her arms, 
 She scream'd in new dismay, — 
 
 But soon to quiet her alarms, 
 She saw a candle ray. 
 
 For Betty, hearing such a pother, 
 Had scream'd in concert wild, 
 
THE NURSERY- 139 
 
 Which so alarmed Anna's mother, 
 They both ran to the child* 
 
 And now what think you was the cause, 
 
 Of all her tears and cries 1 
 My little readers, make a pause, 
 
 And I will you surprise. 
 
 A purring kitten soon jump'd out, 
 
 'Twas Anna's little pet ; 
 For which there'd been so great a rout, 
 
 Because by chance they met. 
 
i40 
 
 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE SAILOR AND THE MONKEYS. 
 
 Once in the hope of honest gain, 
 
 From Afric's golden store, 
 A brisk young sailor cross'd the main, 
 
 And landed on her shore. 
 
THE NURSERY. 141 
 
 And leaving soon the sultry strand, 
 
 Where his fair vessel lay, 
 He traveled o'er the neighboring land, 
 
 To trade in peaceful way. 
 
 Full many a toy had he to sell, 
 
 And caps of scarlet dye, 
 All such things as he knew full well 
 
 Would please the native's eye. 
 
 But as he travel'd through the woods, 
 
 He long'd to take a nap, 
 And opening there his pack of goods, 
 
 Took out a scarlet cap. 
 
 And drew it on his head, thereby 
 
 To shield him from the sun, 
 Then soundly slept, nor thought an eye 
 
 Had seen what he had done. 
 
142 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 But many a monkey, dwelling there, 
 Though hidden from his view* 
 
 Had closely watch'd the whole affair, 
 And long'd to do so too. 
 
 And while he slept did each one seize 
 
 A cap to deck his brows, 
 Then climbing up the highest trees, 
 
 Sat chatt'rins; on the boughs. 
 
 The sailor wak'd, his caps were gone, 
 And loud and long he grieves, 
 
 Till looking up with heart forlorn, 
 He spied the little thieves* 
 
 With cap of red upon each head, 
 
 Full fifty faces grim, 
 The sailor sees amid the trees, 
 
 With eyes all fix'd on him. 
 
THE NURSERY* 143 
 
 He brandish'd quick a mighty stick, 
 But could not reach their bower, 
 
 Nor yet could stone, for every one 
 Was far beyond his power. 
 
 Alas ! he thought, I've safely brought 
 
 My caps far over seas, 
 But could not guess it was to dress 
 
 Such little rogues as these. 
 
 Then quickly down he threw his own* 
 
 And loud in anger cried, 
 Take this one too, you thievish crew, 
 
 Since you have all beside. 
 
 But quick as thought, the caps were caught 
 
 From every monkey's crown, 
 And like himself, each little elf 
 
 Threw his directly down. 
 
144 
 
 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 He then with ease did gather these, 
 
 And in his pack did bind, 
 Then through the woods, convey'd his goods, 
 
 And sold them to his mind. 
 
THE NURSERY. 145 
 
 THE SNOW-STORM. 
 
 The night was dark, and lone the spot, 
 Where stood the distant mountain-cot. 
 
 With many trees surrounded ; 
 And wearied with our journey drear, 
 We found a welcome shelter here, 
 
 Where kindness e'er abounded. 
 
 Thick gloom enclosed the mountain's brow, 
 And not a star was shining now, 
 
 While winds were loudly howling ; 
 The air was bleak and deadly cold, — 
 The falling snow in sheets was rolPd, 
 
 And wolves around were prowling. 
 
 We sat around the cottage hearth, 
 And told our names, our homes, and birth ; 
 The evening hour beguiling, 
 10 
 
146 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 But soon each tongue its prattle still'd, 
 And doubt and dread each bosom fill'd — 
 No face was longer smiling. 
 
 For every blast that whistled by, 
 Was charg'd with sorrow's bitter cry, 
 
 And moans of human sighing ; 
 We thought some wretch had lost his way, 
 And ere the dawn of morrow's day, 
 
 That stranger might be dying. 
 
 But fainter soon the shrieking grew, 
 And wilder still the night-wind blew, 
 
 While all was dark and cheerless ; 
 And every sigh was hush'd at last, 
 Or lost amid the raging blast, 
 
 Which swept along so fearless. 
 
 Then by the light our lanterns cast, 
 We quickly o'er the mountain past, 
 
THE NURSERY. 147 
 
 To find the stranger weary ; 
 We called aloud that help was near, 
 And bid the sufferer cease to fear, — ' 
 
 But all was still and dreary. 
 
 Thus long we searched the mountain round. 
 And paus'd to catch the slightest sound, 
 
 That on the breeze was stirring ; — 
 Then slowly back, our steps retrace, 
 While silent speaks each pallid face, 
 
 What each is now inferring. 
 
 Our dreams that night were sore distress'd, 
 For shrouded fiends before us press'd, 
 
 Like shadows o'er a fountain, 
 We heard their groans, we heard their cry, 
 Begirt with snows we saw them lie, 
 
 All freezing on the mountain. 
 
 'Twas morn — the howling storm had fled, 
 The sun around his glory shed, 
 
148 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 The golden east forsaking ; 
 And now again we search the hill, 
 While gloomy fears our bosoms fill, 
 
 And every heart is aching. 
 
 And soon, beside the leafless birch, 
 We find the object of our search, — 
 
 A female calmly sleeping ; 
 But cold and stiff was every part, 
 The chill of death had touch'd her heart, 
 
 And clos'd her eyes while weeping. 
 
 She near her breast had clasp'd her child, 
 That e'en in death so sweetly smiled, 
 
 We thought it still was breathing ; 
 But pure and white as drifted snow, — 
 The infant's blood had ceas'd to flow, 
 
 Its heart had ceas'd its heaving ! 
 
 We stood — we dropp'd a silent tear, 
 Then laid them on a fragile bier, 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 149 
 
 And down the hill descended ; 
 We plac'd them in a peaceful grave, 
 Where weeping willows gently wave, 
 
 And where our sighs were blended. 
 
150 
 
 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE WINTER KING. 
 
 O what will become of thee, poor little bird ? 
 The muttering storm in the distance is heard ; 
 The rough winds are waking, the clouds growing black, 
 They'll soon scatter snow-flakes all over thy back ! 
 From what sunny clime hast thou wandered away, 
 And what art thou doing this cold winter's day ? 
 I'm picking the gum from the old peach-tree, 
 The storm does not trouble me ! Pee, dee, dee. 
 
 But what makes thee seem so unconscious of care, 
 The brown earth is frozen, the branches are bare : 
 And how canst thou be so light-hearted and free, 
 Like liberty's form with the spirit of glee. 
 
THE NURSERY. 151 
 
 When no place is near for thy evening nest, 
 No leaf for thy screen, for thy bosom no rest ? 
 
 Because the same hand is a shelter for me, 
 That took off the summer-leaves, Pee, dee, dee. 
 
 But man feels a burden of care and of grief, 
 While plucking the cluster, and binding the sheaf, 
 In the summer we faint, in the winter we're chill'd, 
 With ever a void that is yet to be filPd, 
 We take from the ocean, the earth, and the air, 
 Yet all their rich gifts do not silence our care. 
 
 A very small portion, sufficient will be, 
 If sweeten'd with gratitude, Pee, dee, dee. 
 
 I thank thee, bright monitor, what thou hast taught 
 Will oft be the theme of the happiest thought ; 
 We look at the clouds — while the birds have an eye 
 To him who reigns over them changeless and high, 
 So now, little hero, just tell me thy name, 
 That I may be sure whence my oracle came. 
 
 Because in all weather I'm happy and free, 
 They call me the Winter King, Pee, dee, dee. 
 
152 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 But soon there'll be ice weighing down the light bough, 
 
 On which thou art flitting so playfully now ; 
 
 And though there's a vesture well fitted and warm, 
 
 Protecting the rest of thy delicate form, 
 
 What then wilt thou do with thy little bare feet, 
 
 To save them from pain 'mid the frost and the sleet ? 
 
 I can draw them right up in my feathers you see, 
 To warm them, and fly away ! Pee, dee, dee. 
 
 (ftfffia 
 
THE NURSERY. 153 
 
 LOVE OF HOME. 
 
 Why woukTst thou leave me, oh ! gentle child ? 
 Thy home on the mountain is bleak and wild, 
 A straw-roofed cabin with lowly wall — 
 Mine is a fair and pillar'd hall, 
 Where many an image of marble gleams, 
 And the sunshine on pictures forever streams. 
 
 Oh green is the turf where my brothers play, 
 
 Through the long bright hours of the summer day ; 
 
 They find the red cup-moss where they climb, 
 
 And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme ; 
 
 And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know, 
 
 Lady, kind lady, oh ! let me go ! 
 
 Content thee boy in my bower to dwell ! 
 Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well ; 
 Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, 
 Harps which the wandering breezes tune ; 
 And the silvery wood-note of many a bird, 
 Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard. 
 
154 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 My mother sings, at the twilight's fall, 
 A song of the hills far more sweet than all, 
 She sings it under our own green tree, 
 To the babe half slumbering on her knee, 
 I dreamt last night of that music low, — 
 Lady, kind lady, oh ! let me go ! 
 
 Thy mother hath gone from her cares to rest, 
 She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast ; 
 Thou wouldst meet her footstep my boy no more, 
 Nor hear her song at the cabin door ; 
 Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh, 
 And we'll pluck the grapes of the richest dye. 
 
 Is my mother gone from her home away ? 
 
 But I know that my brothers are there at play ! 
 
 I know they are gathering the foxglove's bell, 
 
 And the long fern leaves by the sparkling well, 
 
 Or they launch their boats where the blue streams flow,- 
 
 Lady, kind lady, oh ! let me go ! 
 
 Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now, 
 They sport no more on the mountains brow, 
 
THE NURSERY, 
 
 155 
 
 They hare left the fern by the spring's green side, 
 And the streams where the fairy barks were tied. 
 Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot, 
 For thy cabin-home is a lonely spot. 
 
 Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hill ? 
 But the bird and the blue-fly rove o'er it still ; 
 And the red deer bound in their gladness free, 
 And the heath is bent by the singing bee, 
 And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow, 
 Lady, sweet lady, oh ! let me go ! 
 
156 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 WHAT IS PLEASURE. 
 
 It is, I hear a bright butterfly say, 
 'Mid the bells of the lily to revel all day, 
 And sip from the cup of each flowret gay, 
 
 Sweet honey-drops clear and bright : 
 To float upon airy and beautiful wings, 
 When the air with the sweetest music sings ; 
 In a rose-bud to sleep, when the nightingale 
 sings, 
 
 And bask in the morning light. 
 
 It is, says a wild bounding deer, to leap 
 O'er rocks and crags, and mountains steep ; 
 And drink where the pure, clear waters meet, 
 
 And never grow weary of life : 
 To recline w^herethe purling stream rolls by, 
 And on the green banks securely to lie, 
 Where the hunter's horn and the hunter's cry 
 
 Is never heard in strife. 
 
THE NURSERY. 
 
 157 
 
 It is, says a child with a laughing eye, 
 To sport with the kite as it rises high, 
 Or the trundling hoop as it passes by, 
 
 To grasp with an eager hand : 
 It is, says the Christian, to love and obey 
 The God who hath made us, and fervently 
 
 pray, 
 When the world and its charms are passing 
 away, 
 
 To have hope of the " better land/ 5 
 
158 GLEANINGS FOR 
 
 THE PARTING BIBLE. 
 
 Remember, love, who gave thee this, 
 When other days shall come, 
 
 When she who had thy earliest kiss, 
 Sleeps in her narrow home. 
 
 Remember 'twas a mother gave 
 
 The gift to one she'd die to save. 
 
 That mother sought a pledge of love, 
 
 The holiest for her son ; 
 And from the gifts of God above, 
 
 She chose a goodly one. 
 
THE NURSERY. 159 
 
 She chose, for her beloved boy, 
 The source of life and light and joy. 
 
 And bade him keep the gift, that when 
 The parting hour would come, 
 
 They might have hope to meet again 
 In an eternal home. 
 
 She said his faith in that would be 
 
 Sweet incense to her memory. 
 
 And should the scoffer in his pride, 
 Laugh that fond faith to scorn, 
 
 And bid him cast the pledge aside, 
 That he from youth had borne ; 
 
 She bade him pause, and ask his breast, 
 
 If he, or she, had loved him best ? 
 
 A parent's blessing on her son 
 Goes with this holy thing ; 
 
160 
 
 GLEANINGS, &C. 
 
 The heart that would retain the one 
 
 Must to the other cling. 
 Remember ! 'tis no idle toy, 
 A mother's gift— remember, boy ! 
 
 
I