They sailed away in a paper boat,
Nellie and Flo and Dan did,
Wondering how they managed to float,
For rather unsafe is a paper boat,
Better it is to be candid!
And after a voyage across the seas
They came to an island of flowers and trees.
And, wishing to feel rather more at ease,
They anchored their craft and landed!
A bright little Fairy cried out from the strand,
"You're welcome my darlings, to Buttercup Land!"
They gazed around on a lovely scene,
Nellie and Dan and Flo did,
Golden the leaves of the trees, not green,
No wonder they thought it a lovely scene,
Happiness surely it boded!
And buttercups grew on each inch of ground,
No room for a pin could between be found,
They gathered, and gathered, you may be bound,
Till pinafores all were loaded!
The bright little Fairy said, "Isn't it grand
To rule o'er the kingdom of Buttercup Land?"
"Alas!" they cried, "it is late, so late,
Home we must all be sailing!"
Sorrowful they that they could not wait,
But they were good darlings 'tis right to state,
Duty was ever prevailing!
And so they embarked in their paper boat,
And soon on the sea were again afloat,
A merry cheer rang from each childish throat,
Tho' tears down their cheeks were trailing!
The bright little Fairy cried, waving her hand,
"Come soon again, darlings, to Buttercup Land!"
At last they came to their native shore,
Nellie and Flo and Dan did,
Noticing what they'd not noticed before,
That beautiful too was their native shore,
Better it is to be candid!
Then one to the other remarked, "I say
I think that the sun must be hot to-day!
I've been fast asleep, and sailed far away,
Where I on an Island landed!"
They laughed for they lay, gather'd flow'rs in each hand,
Mid buttercups sweet as in Buttercup Land!
E. Oxenford.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"TEASING NED."
Such a terrible tease was Ned! Mother's patience lasted longer than any
one else's, but even _she_ was perhaps not altogether sorry when
holidays were over and the boys were safely back at boarding-school. He
teased the cats and the dogs and the chickens, teased the servants
terribly with his mess and pranks; teased his bigger brother George, and
more than all teased his good little sister Lizzie. "Lizababuff," she
called herself, which was as near as her wee mouth could get to
Elizabeth. George was something of a tease too, if the truth must be
owned, only, beside Ned, people didn't notice him so much. Yet tease as
they might, by hanging her dolls high out of reach in the walnut-tree,
setting her dear black kitty afloat on the pond in a box, or laughing at
her when she failed to catch little birds by putting salt on their
tails, or any other way, and they had a great many, Lizzie never sulked;
she forgave them directly, and wherever the boys played, in garden,
orchard, or paddock, Lizzie's little fat face and white sun-bonnet could
always be seen close by.
A very favorite place with the children was the paddock gate; here they
would often swing for hours or amuse themselves by watching anything
that might come along the road. Not much traffic passed that way, to be
sure, but knowing every one in the village, they seemed to find enough
to interest them.
"Here comes Tom Crippy with two baskets," cried Ned, as they all leaned
over the gate one sunny afternoon,--an afternoon on which even Lizzie's
sunny temper had almost given way, for both boys were in an especially
teasing mood, and had brought tears very near her blue eyes more than
once. "Don't they look heavy?" he went on. "My! He's got carrots and
ripe apples in one. All ours are as hard as wood."
"Going to take them up to the house, Tom?"
"Not to yours, Master Ned," Tom answered, setting down his baskets and
resting on a low wall. "This one is for you; but this one, with the
apples, is for Mrs. Veale."
George looked at the baskets. "It is very hot, and you look tired right
out," he said. "Suppose you leave Mrs. Veale's basket here while you
take ours."
Tom Crippy agreed at once, and gladly made his way up to the house with
his lightened load, Ned shouting after him, "I say, Tom, you may as well
spare us an apple when you come back!"
"Wouldn't it be fun to hide his basket?" Ned went on; but, having
offered to take care of it, both boys dismissed the idea as _mean_.
"Now for the apple," they said, when he returned.
In vain Tom protested, "I never promised it. It isn't mine to give! not
even father's! Mrs. Veale has bought and paid for these apples."
George would have let him go after a bit; but Ned was somewhat greedy,
and hankered after the apple, as well as after what he called a bit of
_fun_.
"Well, it won't be more than a mouthful apiece," said Tom, at last.
"Who'll have first bite?" and he took a ripe, red apple from the basket.
"I," cried Ned at once.
"Well!" said Tom, "I should have thought you would have let the little
lady!"
He looked at George, who at once blinded Ned's eyes. Widely, eagerly, he
opened his mouth, to close his teeth upon--a carrot.
People who tease can rarely stand being teased themselves. Frantic with
rage, Ned struck out right and left, then dashing the basket over,
trampled and smashed the delicious apples with his feet.
Well, the apples had to be paid for, and the boys had to be punished;
even mother couldn't overlook such an afternoon's work as _this_.
The boys' pocket-money would be stopped till the two shillings were made
up. Threepence a week each, and a month seemed long to look forward to.
Gloomily they leaned over the gate in the evening. Patter, patter,
nearer and nearer came little feet. "Lizababuff has opened her
money-box, and here is sixpence for George and sixpence for Ned."
How they hugged the sun-bonnet! "Lizzie, you are a brick! But we won't
take your money, nor tease you any more!"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"DAISY."
Far in the Highlands of Scotland, nestling amid their rugged mountains,
lay a beautiful farm. Here one of our boys lived with the good old
farmer for two or three years, to be taught sheep-farming. Every summer
he came to see us; and one year, as we were staying at a country house,
he brought us a dear little pet lamb, which he had carried on his
shoulder for many a mile across the country. It was a poor little
orphan, its mother having died; but Willie had brought her up on warm
new milk, which the farmer had given him. We at once named her Daisy,
she was so white and fluffy, just like a snowball; and twice a day we
used to feed her with warm milk out of a bottle. She very quickly got
tame, roaming about and following us in our walks. She knew Sunday quite
well, and never attempted to go to church with us but once; when we were
half way there who should come panting after us but Daisy, so she had to
be taken home, and very sulkily lay down beside Hero, the watch-dog,
perhaps for a little sympathy. Of course she grew into a very big lamb,
and as we had to go back to town for the winter a farmer offered to take
Daisy and put her amongst his own flock of sheep. Next summer when we
returned the first thing we did was to go and see Daisy. The flock was
feeding in a meadow, and as we opened the gate a sheep darted from among
them, came straight to us, and bleating out her welcome, trotted home
with us. She went back to live with the farmer, and died at a good old
age.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------