SLIDING DOWN HILL.
THERE is ice on the hill, hurrah, hurrah!
We can slide quite down to the pas-
ture-bar,
Where the cows at night, in the summer
weather,
Would stand a-waiting and lowing together.
"Tie your tippet closer, John,"
That was what their mother said;
"All of you put mittens on—
The broom will answer for a sled!"
They had never a sled, but dragged in its room,
Just as gayly, behind them, the worn kitchen-
broom;
John, Sammy, and Tom, and their sweet lit-
tle sister,
With her cheeks cherry-red, where the wind
had kissed her.
"You can watch, sis, that's enough,"
That was what her brother's said;
"Keep your hands warm in your muff—
Girls can't slide without a sled! "
"Oh! where in the world is there aught so nice
As to slide down the pasture-hill on the ice?
Quite down to the bar, sis, see, we are going,
Where the cows each night in summer stood lowing.
"If I were a boy, like you—"
This was what their sister said,
Watching as they downward flew—
"I would make a girl a sled!"