So Nanny learned to "overhand,"
And "hem" so fine and neat, To "backstitch," "run," and many a join That she could scarce repeat.
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She learned to "catch-stitch" and to "cross,"
To "patch" and "darn," as well, To "gather," "plait," "box-plait" and "side,"
To "feather-stitch" and "fell."
She sewed the buttons fast, and "worked The buttonholes" so neat, That many an eld accomplishes With less success, the feat.
"Be sure your thread is smooth and strong, A goodly knot or two, A double stitch for first, and then A fastening sure when through;
"And thus your seams will never rip, Your sewing never wear,-- Like buttons loose and hooks awry,-- A slip-shod, shiftless air."
All this and more her mother taught, And Nanny conned it o'er Till she was versed in all the arts That point the seamster's lore.
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Her ninth birthday, and mother said "You're old enough to care For all your clothing now, my child, Except the best you wear.
"And here, within this little chest, And in this drawer wide, You'll keep them ranged so neat and nice, Whatever may betide.
"A place for this, a place for that, Each garment grouped aright, That you may lay your little hand Upon it, day or night.
"No garment must be laid within, Except it ready be, To don and wear, for thus you spare Us trouble, you and me."
And Nanny, pleased with mother's trust, Accepted it with pride, And, in her heart, the lessons learned Forevermore abide.
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_NANNY'S RIDE._
Our Nanny oft in fancy Soared up, the earth above, And sailed the great air-ocean With skylark or with dove.
And in this fashion musing, One sunny summer's day, Half-watching mother mending And baby-brother play,
Without a word of warning The old umbrella came, Opened upside down before her, And whispered soft her name.
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"Come, Nanny you've been longing For a ride, and now's your time: Jump in,--be quick! And careful, too, For I'm o'erpast my prime."
So, springing in, she sat there As happy as you please, And through the open window, Was borne upon the breeze.
The sparrows eyed her keenly, The doves left off their cooing, And children, cause they couldn't go, Set up a grand boo-hoo-ing.
She bobbed against a clothes-line, And all the wash went flying; {278} The good dame cried, "A witch! a witch!
The saints forefend my drying."
And next she got entangled In the telegraphic wires; And when she jerked away from them, She bumped against the spires.
She hit the tallest chimneys, And set the smoke a-curling, Then knocked a flag-pole all awry, The stars and stripes a-whirling.
Now, far beyond the city, With mountains in her face, An eagle pounced to catch her, But she quickly won the race.
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Within a mountain cavelet, Two baby-bears so young, Smiled on her as she passed them, And greetings to her flung.
She heard the thunder rolling.
And saw the lightning's glare, From clouds away beneath her, While 'round her all was fair.
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She met a cherub driving A brace of butterflies, While dancing on a gorgeous one, Away in wonder-skies.
She saw an angel lighting The stars up one by one, As he balanced on a cloudlet That was left behind the sun.
She heard angelic music, Far up, the blue along, And knew 'twas Mary crooning o'er Her first sweet cradle-song.
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She saw such wondrous pictures, So beautiful and grand, Such skyscapes and such cloudscapes, Such waterscapes and land.
But now the fluttering insects All round her plainly told That she was nearing Mother Earth Far o'er the daisy-wold;
And startled at the distance From home, the baby screaming And mother still a-mending there, Told Nanny she'd been dreaming.
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_THE RACE._
A hop, a skip, and a gambol, A run, a tumble, a scramble, An up-and-a-going, A laughing-and-crowing, A weal-and-a-woe-ing,-- Yes, a race for a ball Or a toy we may call, This race that is human,-- For child, man, or woman, Tis one and the same, A mysterious game That is played by us all, And we each get a fall; And so many it may be That forever a baby We feel in the race For a name and a place.
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