Grandma loves her birdy, And when he gaily sings, She will laugh and chat with him, At which he hops and springs.
Fearing though, that birdy Might not understand, Grandma from the toy-shop, Brought a whistle grand.
Tuning now the whistle, To his sweet bird-note, He in singing back to her, Nearly burst his throat,
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Birdy, free outflying, Often comes to light On Grandma's tip-of-finger Or chair-back, pretty sight!
From her hand she feeds him, And he oft will take From her mouth the sugar, With a merry shake.
Yester-morn the window Being open wide, Birdy thought it brighter On the outer side.
Grandma mourning sadly, Shed of tears a few, Then she prayed the Father, "Show me what to do."
Soon she set his cage out On the window-sill, Saying, "Birdy'll come now, Oh, I'm sure he will!"
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Then she, hopeful, praying, "Bring my birdy home,"
Took the sweet bird-whistle, Playing "Birdy, come."
And the birdy hearing, Quickly came and lit On the cage, and shortly Flitted into it.
Thankful now was Grandma, To the dear Lord, who, Listening to her prayer Taught her what to do.
{236}
_A BABY'S FAITH_.
Our Maude was dancing with her doll, In childhood's chattering glee; A brimming bucket standing by, The maiden failed to see, And skipping, tripped; the bucket tipped; The water, cool and clear, {237} Was rudely swayed, but, undismayed, And quickly kneeling near, Both little hands she spread above The water's merry surge.
"And what's she doing there," we ask?
No answer, till we urge, And then, "Why mamma, don't you know God stilled the waves so wild, With His great hand? And so I thought, Although I'm but a child, That I might still these little waves With my two hands so small; And mamma, see, they're quiet now!
But where's my baby-doll?"
_HEALTH AND HAPPINESS_.
Mamma keeps her children In the happiest mood When she feeds them only With the simplest food.
Viands clog and pain them, Then they fret and cry, And then when she whips them, Everything's awry.
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_THE MEADOW QUAILS_.
Over in the meadow where the men make hay, In an elm-tree shadow on a bright summer day, Two speckled quails ponder as to what will be best, Should the stout mower blunder on their pretty home-nest.
But a cloud in a minute from her great white bed Threw a big silver bonnet o'er the sun's golden head And the quails, though they wondered would their home be beset, Cried aloud, and it thundered: "More wet! more wet!"
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Then the great sturdy yeoman coming close to the nest, With the heart of a true man beating soft in his breast, Saw the parent-quails watching, with what fear who can tell?
Saw the baby-quails hatching, hardly out of the shell.
And who knows but he thought of his own precious baby His dear little daughter in her mother's arms, maybe?
For he quickly made over that portion of meadow With the sweetest of clover, and the softest of shadow.
To the quails who all summer lived alongside the lane, Ever warning the farmer of the forth-coming rain; For long ere it thundered and I hear the cry yet They would call as they wandered, "More wet! More wet!"
DIDN'T-THINK is a heedless lad And never takes the prize: Remember-well wins every time.
For he is quick and wise.
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_THE LITTLE HOUSEWIFE_.
This little girl knows how to make A batch of bread, or loaf of cake; She helps to cook potatoes, beets, To boil or bake the fish and meats.
She knows to sweep and make a bed, Can hem a handkerchief for Ned; In short, a little housewife she, As busy as the busy bee.
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Let every girl learn how to do All things that help to make life true; That serve to keep the home-hearth bright; That o'er life's burdens throw a light.
And then if she may never need Herself to labor, she may lead Her household in the better way, That eft shall bring a brighter day.
The boys, too, let them learn to know Of household duties, and to sew; For oft a button, oft a rip, By sewing they may save a "fip."
Yes, let them know that "woman's work"
With many a turn and many a quirk, Is not "a play with straws," as some.
Would seem to think. 'Tis making home.
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_MOTHER-LOVE_.