Cinderella by - (e ink ebook reader txt) 📕

>“I sha’n’t play with him if he comes,” Fay kept saying to every

name Lonnie wrote.

 

“You can have your party,” said Lonnie, getting up out of the

easy-chair and sitting down in a smaller one, “you and your

girls. I’m going to learn some new pieces,” taking up his little

silver blower.

 

“I don’t like boys,” Fay kept saying, jumping down off the arm of

the chair, and aiming a blow at the spot where her brother had

sat with the rustic stick their sister Lucia had brought home May

Day.

 

Lucia was passing the door just then, so she thought she would

see what all the noise was about.

 

“I’d better call you to lunch,” said she, and there they were

just through breakfast.

 

Mamma herself came hurrying in at sound of the bell. When they

told her about the invitations, she said, “I shall not let you

have any party at all, now.”

 

“What makes you change your mind?” said Fay.

 

“Mamma will give her little girl just one week to find out why

she has changed her mind,” said Mrs. Miller.

 

And for all Fay’s coaxing, she could not be persuaded to stay a

minute longer.

 

CLARA’S “FUNERAL.”

 

Clara was the most unfortunate of dollies. She had had the mumps

and whooping cough; and no sooner did she recover from the

scarlet fever than she contracted pneumonia and nearly died. One

morning Blanche was applying hot bandages to relieve bronchitis,

and before night Clara had the small-pox.

 

The next day mamma stopped at the nursery door.

 

“Good morning, little nurse,” she said; “how is poor Clara this

morning?”

 

“She’s DEADED,” said Blanche, with a long face.

 

“Dreadful! What did she die of, small-pox? It seems to me that

that was what she was suffering from last evening.”

 

“No’m’” said Blanche, “‘twasn’t small-pox. She DID have that

bad; but I think she DIED of measles. The SUNERAL (Blanche could

not say ‘funeral’) is to be at twelve sharp. Will you come,

mamma?”

 

“I’m so sorry, darling, but I must go to lunch with Mrs. Mathews

at one. But Jack will go.”

 

The “suneral” took place at noon, and Blanche and Daisy, Jack and

old Hector followed poor Clara in Benny’s wagon to the grave yard

at the bottom of the orchard. It was rather a jolly “suneral,”

for they had “refreshments” under the trees afterward.

 

In the afternoon, as mamma, came up the orchard path, she was

surprised to see a doll’s foot and leg sticking straight up out

of the ground.

 

“Why did you leave her foot out in this way?” asked mamma.

 

“Well,” said Blanche, “I thought perhaps she could get to Heaven

easier.”

 

THE CHICKADEE-DEE.

 

Little darling of the snow,

Careless how the winds may blow,

Happy as a bird can be,

Singing, oh, so cheerily,

Chickadee-dee! Chickadee-dee!

 

When the skies are cold and gray,

When he trills his happiest lay,

Through the clouds he seems to see

Hidden things to you and me.

Chickadee-dee! chickadee-dee!

 

Very likely little birds

Have their thoughts too deep for word,

But we know, and all agree,

That the world would dreary be

Without birds, dear chickadee!

 

THE CHILDREN’S PARTY.

 

What a merry, merry rout!

See the wee ones dance about!

Dickie’s leading off the ball;

There,—he almost had a fall.

 

Who’s his partner in the whirls,

—Rosiest of all the girls?

But a doll—a DOLL you say;

Dancing in that sprightly way?

 

Well I never! Oh, see there,

See—just see those horses tear!

Meg and Madge will sure be thrown.

What a vicious looking roan!

 

Not a real live horse you say,

Prancing in that frightful way?

Well, I never! Toys to-day

Surely seem more “real” than “play.”

 

BRAVE TOMASSO.

 

There were once two very beautiful cats named Tomasso and Lilia.

It would be very hard indeed to say which was more beautiful than

the other, Tomasso the husband, or Lilia his wife.

 

They were about the same size, although, perhaps, Tomasso was a

little the stouter of the two. There could be no question that at

times the expression of his face was decidedly more fierce than

that of his gentle wife.

 

The fur of each of them was as white as the driven snow, and as

soft, and fine, and glossy as the most perfect silk gloss.

 

Add to these natural charms the fact that they always kept

themselves beautifully clean, and always wore round their necks

cravats made of the richest satin ribbon, and I am sure you will

agree with me in thinking that they were cats of very high

degree.

 

Their neighbors considered them extremely proud and haughty. They

never were known to play with any of the cats in their street. To

be with each other was all they asked. Sometimes these neighbors

took a great deal of pains to get a glimpse of Tomasso and Lilia

as, paw in paw, they danced a minuet together.

 

Even the most grumpy grimalkin declared it was a beautiful sight.

There was no doubt the young couple was very graceful and their

manners were perfect. Then he said that cats brought up as

Tomasso and his wife had always lived, OUGHT to be amiable and

beautiful. He understood that a jar of Orange County cream was

ordered for them every day. Then he muttered something which

sounded very much as if he thought Tomasso would be not over

courageous in a moment of danger. “Alone, white tail is all very

fine,” said he, “but mark my word, at a sudden fright it would

turn into a white feather. I should pity his wife if she had no

one but him to protect her.”

 

Now it happened that that very afternoon Tomasso’s courage was

put to the test. As he and Lilia were taking a quiet walk,

suddenly a huge dog rushed out at them. In an instant Tomasso

placed himself across Lilia’s trembling body. She had fallen to

the ground in terror. The great dog made a jump at Tomasso, but

was met with such a snarl, and then such a blow from a set of

sharp claws that he ran away howling.

 

That night the news of Tomasso’s bravery spread through the whole

neighborhood. But he was very quiet and modest. His proud wife

was much disturbed at a bad scratch Tomasso had received in the

struggle. They both examined it carefully with the aid of a

hand-glass.

 

“I hope it will not leave a scar,” said Lilia, “but if it does it

will only be a proof of the noble courage of my brave Tomasso.”

 

TOMMY FROST SEES A BEAR.

 

Tommy Frost was making his first visit in the country. He was

enjoying it very much. He liked to ramble about in the woods

close by the house of his aunt, Mrs. Drew. Tommy had never even

seen any birds before this, but pigeons and sparrows. That is,

any birds out of cages. He had lived all his short life in the

centre of a great city. He wanted very much to see a wild animal.

He had heard Mr. Drew and some of his friends talking about “bear

tracks” in the woods. Mr. Drew said they must go off some day and

hunt for that bear.

 

Now Tommy had no idea what a bear was like. He wished very much

that he might see one. Every day he said to himself, “If I could

only find the one the big men were talking about I’d feel proud.”

One day as he was strolling about, he suddenly saw something

moving in one of the trees. He stopped, and looked up excitedly,

then he rushed for the house screaming at the top of his voice,

“Aunt Maria! Aunt Maria! come quick, I’ve seen it, it’s in the

woods.”

 

“What is in the woods?” asked Mrs. Drew.

 

“The bear!” cried Tommy.

 

“The bear?” repeated Mrs. Drew, hardly understanding.

 

Then she drew a long breath and turned very white as she stood a

moment shielding her eyes from the sun, looking in the direction

in which Tommy pointed. Then she ran back into the house, and

came out in a moment, bringing with her a huge horn. It was a

megaphone. She was trembling so she could scarcely lift it, but

she managed to raise it to her mouth and call through it. “John!

Murray! come! come this instant! The bear is in the woods back of

the house.”

 

In a few moments her husband and brother came running from the

field where they were at work.

 

They stopped for no questions, but rushed into the house for

their guns. But as they came out Mr. Drew asked, “Who saw it?

When, where?”

 

“I did, said Tommy, not a bit frightened, but feeling very

excited and proud. “I did, back there in a tree.”

 

“In a tree?” cried Mrs. Drew’s brother, stopping in his quick run

for the woods.

 

“Yes,” said Tommy, “it was a bear, but it looked,—it LOOKED just

like my picture of a wiggle-tail.”

 

“Oh,” cried Mrs. Drew, as she sank on the door-step, “the child

has seen a gray squirrel!”

 

MYSELF.

 

One little head so smooth and round,

With soft hair covered, golden or brown,

One little forehead smooth and white,

Two little eye-brows dark or light.

Two little eyes that we see through.

See us looking, now, at you?

Two little cheeks so plump and round,

Where the red rose of health is found.

Two little ears where sound comes in;

One little nose and mouth and chin.

Rows of little teeth all in white;

Ready for use when lunch is in sight.

One little tongue kind words to say—

Bright little smiles which round them play.

One little head where all are seen.

One little neck which stands between

Head and shoulders to hold them fast.

Now are we ready to find, at last,

One little body with arms and hands

Two legs and two feet on which it stands.

 

TWO STRANGE SIGHTS.

 

“Oh come into the dining-room!”

Cries Fred, “come, grandma, dear.

For something very strange indeed

Is going on in here!”

And sure enough, when grandma comes,

Perhaps at first with fright,

She stands quite still, astonished at

An unexpected sight.

 

For there upon the woollen rug,

A jug between her feet,

Sits Freddy’s little sister Bess

Absorbed in pleasures sweet.

Her finger in the syrup now

Behold she slyly dips,

And carries it with great delight

To her own rosy lips.

 

“You little witch!” cries grandmama,

“You’re like the naughty rat

I found within the cellar once,

Who on a barrel sat,

Filled with molasses, which he reached

By dipping in the hole

His great long tail from which he licked

The sweets he thus had stole.

 

“The rat was shot, but grandma’s babe,

Well, till she’s learned to know

Such tricks are wrong, why we of course

Must naught but patience show.”

Then grandma took her little pet,

And washed her sticky face,

Then put that tempting syrup-jug

Up in a safer place.

 

A CAT’S INSTINCTS.

 

“Take that! and that! and that!” These words came from an angry

little girl. She was leaning over a big gray puss which she was

holding down with one hand, while with the other she struck him a

sharp blow every time she said “THAT.”

 

It is a wonder puss did not bite her, for he was so strong he

could have done so. He was a very gentle cat. “Gentle?” I hear

some one ask. Then why did he deserve such a whipping as the

little