Sleep, little sister, a sweet, sweet sleep,
Dear little sister with eyes so blue,
Daylight is dying
And shadows are lying,
Lying where lately the sunbeams grew!
The pretty birds, little one, cease to sing,
Cosy are they in the mossy nest,
Birdies like we, dear,
Weary must be, dear,
Glad in the gloaming to get to rest!
The flowers are closing their petals fair,
Closing them up till the dawn of day,
Then in their beauty,
Doing their duty,
All will uncurtain their colours gay!
Sleep, little sister, a sweet, sweet sleep,
Dear little sister with eyes so blue,
Sleep without fear, love,
Sissie is near, love,
She will keep watch, and be guard over you!
E. Oxenford.
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"LITTLE ME."
I cannot tell how she came to be called "Little Me." She was a shy
little girl, and almost afraid of her own voice; though to hear her
playing with her brothers you would not have fancied that she was shy.
And now they were on their way to the country. There was Emma the nurse,
and Miss Brown the governess, Little Me, Tommy, aged seven, and Jack,
aged ten. There was first a long journey in a cab, with many boxes; then
a long journey in a train very full of people.
It seemed to Little Me as if that train had been going on all the day,
and the sandwiches and milk which nurse had in a little hamper tasted
quite warm; and Little Me's legs ached from dangling from a seat too
high for her feet to reach the ground, and at last she fell asleep.
She awoke suddenly with a start to find every one turning out of the
train, and she felt cross and inclined to cry, but there was no time.
[Illustration: "LITTLE ME."]
At last all three children, Miss Brown, and nurse were safely packed
into a carriage which was waiting for them. The luggage came behind in a
cart.
Little Me was really tired, so nurse put her to sit on a soft rug at the
bottom of the carriage. Here she could just see green trees overhead,
and the tops of green hedges, and soft white clouds turning to gold and
red, as the sun set behind some hills in the far-off distance.
They reached at last a pretty cottage, with a thatched roof and a white
wall quite covered with red roses. There was a little path of round
stones leading up to the front door, and all the windows had small
diamond panes.
A stout old lady, in a spotless white cap with pink ribbons, met them at
the door, and took Little Me in her strong arms and carried her up some
narrow stairs into a bedroom with white curtains to the bed and windows,
and white walls.
After a good wash Little Me felt quite wide-awake, and very hungry, and
was glad to be taken down to tea.
It _was_ a delightful tea! There were tiny little loaves for each of the
children, home-made cakes with plenty of plums, and strawberries and
cream, and ducks' eggs. These the farmer's wife showed Little Me had
pretty pale green shells, instead of white or brown like the hens' eggs,
and Mrs. White promised to show the children some baby chickens and
ducklings the next day.
How Little Me _did_ sleep that night, to be sure! She never heard her
father and mother and Bob, her elder brother, arrive at all; and it was
eight o'clock before she woke the next morning, and found they had all
gone out and left Me in kind Mrs. White's care. Mrs. White took her to
feed the chickens--such dear little fluffy balls of yellow and white and
black down, and Mrs. White let Little Me feed them out of a saucer, and
some of them jumped over Me's hand, and were most friendly; and then
Mrs. White took her to a pretty pond, and showed her a beautiful duck
and nine baby ducks, not so fluffy and small as the chickens, but yet
very soft and clean-looking.
Bob was rather too grown up to play much with Little Me, and Tommy
always played with Jack, so that Little Me spent much of her time
wandering about by herself.
The pond where the duck and ducklings lived had a little waterfall at
one end, and then it became a little stream, and ran over pebbles under
a bridge, and wandered away into the fields with a border of
forget-me-nots.
Little Me was very fond of this stream, and one day Tommy persuaded her
to take off her shoes and socks and walk through the stream with him.
This was very delightful; but when they were just in the middle of the
stream there came in sight some cows, and a boy and man driving them.
Now, if there was one thing Little Me dreaded more than another it was
cows; and her ideas of propriety were greatly shocked at the idea of a
strange man and boy seeing her bare feet, so she raced back to her shoes
and socks, picked them up, and tumbled over a stile as fast as her
short, fat little legs could go, and hid behind a hedge, all out of
breath.
There poor Little Me crouched till she heard the last slow step of the
last cow plash through the stream, where some of them stopped to drink,
and the sound of voices died away over the bridge; then in much hurry
and alarm she thrust her wet little feet into her damp socks, which she
had in her fright dropped into the water, and the wet feet and socks
were hastily put into the shoes, and Little Me again climbed the stile
to join her brother, to whom she was ashamed to own that she had been
afraid of the cows.
Being a city child, and not a very strong one, Little Me was unused to
wet feet, and she caught a bad cold, which ended by her spending many
days in bed; but the boys brought her flowers, and Mrs. White made her
many little loaves and cakes, and gave her honey and cream, and
altogether Me thought being ill at a farmhouse much better than being
well in the city.
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