THE BROWNIES' DANCING-SCHOOL.
HEN flitting bats commenced to wheel
Around the eaves to find their meal,
And owls to hoot in forests wide,
To call their owlets to their side,
The Brownie Band, in full array,
Through silent streets pursued their way.
But as they neared a building high,
Surprise was shown in every eye.
They heard the strains of music sweet,
And tripping of the dancers' feet;
While o'er the tap of heel and toe,
The twang of harp and scrape of bow,
Arose the clear and ringing call
Of those who had control of all.
The Brownies slackened their swift pace,
Then gathered closely round the place,
To study out some way to win
A peep or two at those within.
Said one: "In matters of this kind
Opinions differ, you will find.
And some might say, with sober thought,
That children should not thus be taught
To hop around on toe and heel
So actively to fiddle's squeal,
For fear 'twould turn their minds away
From graver duties of the day."
Another said: "The dancing art
Doth ease to every move impart.
It gives alike to city-bred
And country-born a graceful tread,
And helps them bear themselves along
Without offense in greatest throng.
The nimble step, the springing knee,
And balanced body all agree.
The feet, my friends, may glide with grace
As well as trudge from place to place.
And in the parlor or without
They best can stand or walk about
Who found in early life a chance
To mingle in the sprightly dance."
The Brownies need no ladders long,
No hoists, nor elevators strong,
To lift them to an upper flight,
A window-sill, or transom light.
The weather-vane upon the spire,
That overlooks the town entire,
Is not too high above the base
If fancy leads them to the place.
'Tis said the very fleecy clouds
They can bestride in eager crowds,
Around the world their way to find,
And leave the lagging winds behind.
Said one: "We've scaled the dizzy heights
Of mountain-peaks on other nights,
And crossed the stream from shore to shore
Where but the string-piece stretched before;
And cunning Brownies, never fear,
Will find some way to enter here."
HEN once the Brownies' plans were laid,
No formal, tiresome speech was made.
In mystic ways, to Brownies known,
They clambered up the walls of stone.
They clung to this and that, like briers,
They climbed the smooth electric wires;
Some members lending ready aid
To those who weaker nerves displayed.
And in five minutes at the most,
By vine, by bracket, and by post,
By every scroll, and carving bold,
That toes could touch or fingers hold
They made their way, and gained a chance
To view, unnoticed, every dance.
Said one: "How pleasant is the sight
To see those children young and bright
While skipping blithely to and fro,
Now joined in pairs, now in a row,
Or formed in circles, hand in hand,
And lightly moving at command—
Like butterflies through balmy air
When summer spreads attractions fair,
And blends with every whispering breeze
The drowsy hum of working bees."
Another said: "When this is o'er
The Brownie Band will take the floor.
We'll bide our time and not be slow
To take possession when they go.
Then up and down the spacious hall
We'll imitate the steps of all.
We'll show that not in Frenchmen's bones
Lies all the grace that nature owns;
That others at the waltz can shine
As well as Germans from the Rhine;
That we some capers can enjoy
As well as natives of Savoy."
While thus they talked, the moments flew,
And soon the master's task was through.
When children's cloaks were wrapped around,
And heavier shoes their feet had found
They hastened home; but while they slept
The Brownies in that building crept
To take their turn at lively reel,
At graceful glide, or dizzy wheel,
Till all the dances people know,
From Cuba's palms to Russia's snow
Were tried, and soon in every case
Were mastered with surprising grace.
Imagine how they skipped about,
And how they danced, with laugh and shout!
O sooner had the Brownies run
Into the hall than 'twas begun.
Some round the harp, with cunning stroke,
The music in the strings awoke.
The violins to others fell,
Who scraped, and sawed, and fingered well,
Until the sweet and stirring air
Would rouse the feet of dullest there.
Like people in the spring of life,
Of joys and countless blessings rife,
Who yield themselves to Pleasure's hand—
So danced that night the Brownie Band.
First one would take his place to show
The special step for heel or toe,
Just how to edge about with care,
And help around the partner fair,
Nor plant his feet upon a dress—
To cause confusion and distress.
Then more would play the master's part,
And give some lessons in the art:
Would show the rest some figures new
From Turkey, China, or Peru.
Now smoothly glide, as if on wings,
Then bob around, as if on springs,
Until the sprightly steps would call
Loud acclamations from them all.
They danced in twos with skip and bound,
They danced in circles, round and round;
They danced in lines that coiled about
As runs the serpent in and out,
Some moving slow, some standing still—
More cutting capers with a will.
At length, by joining hand in hand,
The set included all the band.
A happier crowd was never seen
On ball-room floor or village green.
By turns they danced, by turns would go
And try their skill at string and bow—
They almost sawed the fiddle through,
So fast the bow across it flew.
And louder still the harp would ring,
As nimbler fingers plucked the string.
Alike they seemed a skillful band
Upon the floor or music-stand.
The night wore on, from hour to hour,
And still they danced with vim and power;
For supple-kneed and light of toe
The Brownies are, as well you know,
And such a thing as tiring out
Gives them but small concern, no doubt.
As long as darkness hung her pall
In heavy folds around the hall,
The Brownies stayed to dance and play,
Until the very break of day.
O dance the figures o'er and o'er,
They lingered on the polished floor;
No sooner was one party done
Than others the position won.
They chose their partners for the set,
And bowed, and scraped, and smiling, met.
As night advanced, and morning gray
Nigh and still nigher cast its ray,
The lively Brownies faster flew,
Across and back, around and through;
Now down the center, up the side,
Then back to place with graceful glide—
Until it seemed that even day
Would hardly drive the band away.
At length some, more upon their guard
Against surprises, labored hard
To urge their comrades from the place
Before the sun would show his face.
They pulled and hauled with all their might
At those half crazy with delight,
Who still would struggle for a chance
To have, at least, another dance—
Some figure that was quite forgot,
Although "the finest of the lot."
Another wished to linger still—
In spite of warning words—until
Each member present on the floor
Had been his partner twice or more.
Meantime, outside, the tell-tale dyes
Of morn began to paint the skies,
And, one by one, the stars of night
Grew pale before the morning's light.
Alone, bright Venus, in the west,
Upheld her torch and warned the rest;
While from the hedge the piping note
Of waking birds began to float;
And crows upon the wooded hills
Commenced to stir and whet their bills,
When Brownies scampered from the place,
And undertook the homeward race.
Nor made a halt in street or square,
Or verdant park, however fair;
But farther from the sight of man
And light of day, they quickly ran.
They traveled at their highest speed,
And swiftly must they go, indeed;
For, like the spokes of some great wheel,
The rays of light began to steal
Still higher up the eastern sky,
And showed the sun was rolling nigh.
THE BROWNIES' CANDY-PULL.
NE evening, while the Brownies sat
Enjoying free and friendly chat,
Some on the trees, some on the ground,
And others perched on fences round—
One Brownie, rising in his place,
Addressed the band with beaming face.
The listeners gathered with delight
Around the member, bold and bright,
To hear him tell of scenes he'd spied
While roaming through the country wide.
"Last eve," said he, "to shun the blast,
Behind a cottage fence I passed.
While there, I heard a merry rout,
And as the yard was dark without,
I crawled along through weeds and grass,
Through melon-vines and broken glass,
Until I might, unnoticed, win
A glimpse of all the sport within.
At length, below the window-pane,
To reach the sill I stretched in vain;
But, thanks to my inquiring mind
And sundry bricks, I chanced to find
The facts I can relate in full
About that lively candy-pull.
"An hour or more, I well believe,
I stood, their actions to perceive,
With elbows resting on the sill,
And nose against the window still.
I watched them closely at their fun,
And learned how everything was done.
The younger members took the lead,
And carried on the work with speed.
With nimble feet they ran about
From place to place, with laugh and shout;
But older heads looked on the while,
And cheered the youngsters with a smile,
And gave advice in manner kind
To guide the inexperienced mind.
They placed the sugar in a pot,
And stirred it round till boiling hot;
Then rolled and worked it in their hands,
And stretched it out in shining bands,
Until it reached across the floor,
From mantel-piece to kitchen door.
"These eyes of mine for many a night
Have not beheld a finer sight.
To pull the candy was the part
Of some who seemed to know the art.
The moon had slipped behind the hill,
And hoarse had grown the whip-poor-will;
But still, with nose against the pane,
I kept my place through wind and rain.
There, perched upon the shaky pile,
With bated breath I gazed the while.
I watched them with the sharpest sight
That I might tell the tale aright;
For all the active youngsters there
Appeared to have of work their share.
Some put fresh sugar in the pot,
Some kept the fire blazing hot,
And worked away as best they could
To keep the stove well filled with wood.
Indeed, ourselves, with all our skill,
At moving here and there at will,
Would have to 'lively' be and 'tear
Around' to beat those children there!
Some cut it up, more passed it round,
While others ate it by the pound!"
At this, a murmur of surprise
On every side began to rise;
Then smiles o'er every visage flitted,
As wide as cheeks and ears permitted,
That told what train of thought had sped
At once through every Brownie's head—
A thought of pleasure near at hand
That well would suit the cunning band.
HE Brownies act without delay
When new ideas cross their way,
And soon one raised a finger small
And close attention gained from all.
They crowded near with anxious glance
To learn what scheme he could advance—
What methods mention or employ
To bring about the promised joy.
Said he: "A vacant house is near.
The owner leaves it every year
For several months, and pleasure seeks
On ocean waves or mountain peaks.
The range is there against the wall,
The pots, the pans, the spoons, and all,
While cans of syrup may be found
In every grocer's store around.
The Brownie must be dull and tame,
And scarce deserves to bear the name,
Who will not join with heart and hand
To carry out a scheme so grand."
Another cried: "When to his bed
The sun to-morrow stoops his head,
Again we'll muster in full force
And to that building turn our course."
Next eve they gained the street at last
That through the silent city passed;
And soon they paused, their eyes they raised
And on the vacant mansion gazed.
In vain the miser hides his store,
In vain the merchant bars his door,
In vain the locksmith changes keys—
The Brownies enter where they please.
Through iron doors, through gates of brass,
And walls of stone they safely pass,
And smile to think how soon they can
Upset the studied schemes of man.
Within that house, without delay,
Behind the guide they worked their way,
More happy far and full of glee
Than was the owner, out at sea.
The whale, the shark, or fish that flies
Had less attraction for his eyes
Than had the shining candy-balls
For Brownies, swarming through his halls.
Soon coal was from the cellar brought
And kindling wood came, quick as thought;
Then pots and pans came rattling in
And syrup sweet, in cans of tin.
Just where the syrup had been found
It matters not. It was around.
The cunning band was soon possessed
Of full supplies and of the best;
Next tablespoons of silver fine
In every hand appeared to shine,
And ladles long, of costly ware,
That had been laid away with care.
No sooner was the syrup hot
Than some around the kettle got,
And dabbed away in eager haste
To be the first to get a taste.
Then some were scalded when the spoon
Let fall its contents all too soon,
And gave the tongue too warm a mess
To carry without some distress.
Then steps were into service brought
That dancing-masters never taught,
And smothered cries and swinging hand
Would wake the wonder of the band.
And when the candy boiled until
It could be pulled and hauled at will,
Take every shape or twist, and seem
As free as fancy in a dream,
The busy, happy-hearted crew
Enjoyed the moments as they flew.
The Brownies in the building stayed
And candy ate as fast as made.
But when at length the brightening sky
Gave warning they must homeward fly,
They quickly sought the open air
And had but little time to spare.
The shortest way, as often found,
Was o'er the roughest piece of ground,
Where rocks as large as houses lay
All scattered round in wild array.
Some covered o'er with clinging vines,
Some bearing up gigantic pines,
Or spreading oaks, that rooted fast,
For centuries had stood the blast.
But over all the rugged ground
The Brownies passed with lightsome bound,
Now jumping clear from block to block,
Now sliding down the shelving rock,
Or cheering on the lagging kind
Who here and there would fall behind.
THE BROWNIES AND THE LOCOMOTIVE.
NIGHT the Brownies found their way
To where some tracks and switches lay,
And buildings stood, such as are found
In every town on railroad ground.
They moved about from place to place,
With prying eyes and cautious pace
They peeped in shops and gained a view,
Where cars were standing bright and new;
While others, that had service known,
And in some crash were overthrown,
On jack-screws, blocks, and such affairs,
Were undergoing full repairs.
The table that turns end for end
Its heavy load, without a bend,
Was next inspected through and through
And tested by the wondering crew.
They scanned the signal-lights with care
That told the state of switches there,—
Showed whether tracks kept straight ahead,
Or simply to some siding led.
Then round a locomotive strong
They gathered in an earnest throng,
Commenting on the style it showed,
Its strength and speed upon the road.
Said one: "That 'pilot' placed before
Will toss a cow a block or more;
You'd hardly find a bone intact
When such a thing her frame has racked—
Above the fence, and, if you please,
Above the smoke-stack and the trees
Will go the horns and heels in air,
When hoisted by that same affair."
"Sometimes it saves," another cried,
"And throws an object far aside
That would to powder have been ground,
If rushing wheels a chance had found.
I saw a goat tossed from the track
And landed on a farmer's stack,
And though surprised at fate so strange,
He seemed delighted at the change;
And lived content, on best of fare,
Until the farmer found him there."
Another said: "We'll have some fun
And down the road this engine run.
The steam is up, as gauges show;
She's puffing, ready now to go;
The fireman and the engineer
Are at their supper, in the rear
Of yonder shed. I took a peep,
And found the watchman fast asleep.
So now's our time, if we but haste,
The joys of railway life to taste.
I know the engine-driver's art,
Just how to stop, reverse, and start;
I've watched them when they little knew
From every move I knowledge drew;
We'll not be seen till under way,
And then, my friends, here let me say,
The man or beast will something lack
Who strives to stop us on the track."
Then some upon the engine stepped,
And some upon the pilot crept,
And more upon the tender found
A place to sit and look around.
And soon away the engine rolled
At speed 'twas fearful to behold;
It seemed they ran, where tracks were straight,
At least at mile-a-minute rate;
And even where the curves were short
The engine turned them with a snort
That made the Brownies' hearts the while
Rise in their throats, for half a mile.
But travelers many dangers run
On safest roads beneath the sun.
They ran through yards, where dogs came out
To choke with dust that whirled about,
And so could neither growl nor bark
Till they had vanished in the dark;
Some pigs that wandered late at night,
And neither turned to left nor right,
But on the crossing held debate
Who first should squeeze beneath the gate,
Were helped above the fence to rise
Ere they had time to squeal surprise,
And never after cared to stray
Along the track by night or day.
But when a town was just in sight,
And speed was at its greatest height,—
Alas! that such a thing should be,—
An open switch the Brownies see.
Then some thought best at once to go
Into the weeds and ditch below;
But many on the engine stayed
And held their grip, though much dismayed.
And waited for the shock to fall
That would decide the fate of all.
In vain reversing tricks were tried,
And brakes to every wheel applied;
The locomotive forward flew,
In spite of all that skill could do.
But just as they approached the place
Where trouble met them face to face,
Through some arrangement, as it seemed,
Of which the Brownies never dreamed,
The automatic switch was closed,
A safety signal-light exposed,
And they were free to roll ahead,
And wait for those who'd leaped in dread;
Although the end seemed near at hand
Of every Brownie in the band,
And darkest heads through horrid fright
Were in a moment changed to white,
The injuries indeed were small.
A few had suffered from their fall,
And some were sprained about the toes,
While more were scraped upon the nose;
But all were able to succeed
In climbing to a place with speed,
And there they stayed until once more
They passed the heavy round-house door.
Then jumping down on every side
The Brownies scampered off to hide;
And as they crossed the trestle high
The sun was creeping up the sky,
And urged them onward in their race
To find some safe abiding place.
THE BROWNIES' FANCY BALL.
T was the season of the year
When people, dressed in fancy gear,
From every quarter hurried down
And filled the largest halls in town;
And there to flute and fiddle sweet
Went through their sets with lively feet.
The Brownies were not slow to note
That fun indeed was now afloat;
And ere the season passed away,
Of longest night and shortest day,
They looked about to find a hall
Where they could hold their fancy ball.
Said one: "A room can soon be found
Where all the band can troop around;
But want of costumes, much I fear,
Will bar our pleasure all the year."
Another said: "One moment wait!
My eyes have not been shut of late,—
Don't show a weak and hopeless mind
Because your knowledge is confined,—
For I'm prepared to take the band
To costumes, ready to the hand,
Of every pattern, new or old:
The kingly robes, with chains of gold,
The cloak and plume of belted knight,
The pilgrim's hat and stockings white,
The dresses for the ladies fair,
The gems and artificial hair,
The soldier-suits in blue and red,
The turban for the Tartar's head,
All can be found where I will lead,
If friends are willing to proceed."
Those knowing best the Brownie way
Will know there was no long delay,
Ere to the town he made a break
With all the Brownies in his wake.
It mattered not that roads were long,
That hills were high or winds were strong;
Soon robes were found on peg and shelf,
And each one chose to suit himself.
The costumes, though a world too wide,
And long enough a pair to hide,
Were gathered in with skill and care,
That showed the tailor's art was there.
Then out they started for the hall,
In fancy trappings one and all;
Some clad like monks in sable gowns;
And some like kings; and more like clowns;
And Highlanders, with naked knees;
And Turks, with turbans like a cheese;
While many members in the line
Were dressed like ladies fair and fine,
And swept along the polished floor
A train that reached a yard or more.
By happy chance some laid their hand
Upon the outfit of a band;
The horns and trumpets took the lead,
Supported well by string and reed;
And violins, that would have made
A mansion for the rogues that played,
With flute and clarionet combined
In music of the gayest kind.
In dances wild and strange to see
They passed the hours in greatest glee;
Familiar figures all were lost
In flowing robes that round them tossed;
And well-known faces hid behind
Queer masks that quite confused the mind.
The queen and clown, a loving pair,
Enjoyed a light fandango there;
While solemn monks of gentle heart,
In jig and scalp-dance took their part.
The grand salute, with courteous words,
The bobbing up and down, like birds,
The lively skip, the stately glide,
The double turn, and twist aside
Were introduced in proper place
And carried through with ease and grace.
So great the pleasure proved to all,
Too long they tarried in the hall,
And morning caught them on the fly,
Ere they could put the garments by!
Then dodging out in great dismay,
By walls and stumps they made their way;
And not until the evening's shade
Were costumes in their places laid.
THE BROWNIES
AND THE TUGBOAT.
WHILE Brownies strayed along a pier
To view the shipping lying near,
A tugboat drew their gaze at last;
'Twas at a neighboring wharf made fast.
Cried one: "See what in black and red
Below the pilot-house is spread!
In honor of the Brownie Band,
It bears our name in letters grand.
Through all the day she's on the go;
Now with a laden scow in tow,
And next with barges two or three,
Then taking out a ship to sea,
Or through the Narrows steaming round
In search of vessels homeward bound;
She's stanch and true from stack to keel,
And we should highly honored feel."
Another said: "An hour ago,
The men went up to see a show,
And left the tugboat lying here.
The steam is up, our course is clear,
We'll crowd on board without delay
And run her up and down the bay.
We have indeed a special claim,
Because she bears the 'Brownie' name.
Before the dawn creeps through the east
We'll know about her speed at least,
And prove how such a craft behaves
When cutting through the roughest waves.
Behind the wheel I'll take my stand
And steer her round with skillful hand,
Now down the river, now around
The bay, or up the broader sound;
Throughout the trip I'll keep her clear
Of all that might awaken fear.
When hard-a-port the helm I bring,
Or starboard make a sudden swing,
The Band can rest as free from dread
As if they slept on mossy bed.
I something know about the seas,
I've boxed a compass, if you please,
And so can steer her east or west,
Or north or south, as suits me best.
Without the aid of twinkling stars
Or light-house lamps, I'll cross the bars.
I know when north winds nip the nose,
Or sou'-sou'-west the 'pig-wind' blows,
As hardy sailors call the gale
That from that quarter strikes the sail."
A third replied: "No doubt you're smart
And understand the pilot's art,
But more than one a hand should take,
For all our lives will be at stake.
In spite of eyes and ears and hands,
And all the skill a crew commands,
How oft collisions crush the keel
And give the fish a sumptuous meal!
Too many rocks around the bay
Stick up their heads to bar the way.
Too many vessels, long and wide,
At anchor in the channel ride
For us to show ourselves unwise
And trust to but one pair of eyes."
Ere long the tugboat swinging clear
Turned bow to stream and left the pier,
While many Brownies, young and old,
From upper deck to lower hold
Were crowding round in happy vein
Still striving better views to gain.
Some watched the waves around them roll;
Some stayed below to shovel coal,
From hand to hand, with pitches strong,
They passed the rattling loads along.
Some at the engine took a place,
More to the pilot-house would race
To keep a sharp lookout ahead,
Or man the wheel as fancy led.
But accidents we oft record,
However well we watch and ward,
And vessels often go to wreck
With careful captains on the deck;
They had mishaps that night, for still,
In spite of all their care and skill,
While running straight or turning round
In river, bay, or broader sound,
At times they ran upon a rock,
And startled by the sudden shock
Some timid Brownies, turning pale,
Would spring at once across the rail;
And then, repenting, find all hope
Of life depended on a rope,
That willing hands were quick to throw
And hoist them from the waves below.
Sometimes too near a ship they ran
For peace of mind; again, their plan
Would come to naught through lengthy tow
Of barges passing to and fro.
The painted buoys around the bay
At times occasioned some dismay—
They took them for torpedoes dread
That might the boat in fragments spread,
Awake the city's slumbering crowds,
And hoist the band among the clouds.
But thus, till hints of dawn appeared
Now here, now there, the boat was steered
With many joys and many fears,
That some will bear in mind for years;
But at her pier once more she lay
When night gave place to creeping day.
THE BROWNIES' TALLY-HO.
S shades of evening closed around,
The Brownies, from some wooded ground,
Looked out to view with staring eye
A Tally-Ho, then passing by.
Around the park they saw it roll,
Now sweeping round a wooded knoll,
Now rumbling o'er an arching bridge,
Now hid behind a rocky ridge,
Now wheeling out again in view
To whirl along some avenue.
They hardly could restrain a shout
When they observed the grand turnout.
The long, brass horn, that trilled so loud,
The prancing horses, and the crowd
Of people perched so high in air
Pleased every wondering Brownie there.
Said one: "A rig like this we see
Would suit the Brownies to a T!
And I'm the one, here let me say,
To put such pleasures in our way:
I know the very place to go
To-night to find a Tally-Ho.
It never yet has borne a load
Of happy hearts along the road;
But, bright and new in every part
'Tis ready for an early start.
The horses in the stable stand
With harness ready for the hand;
If all agree, we'll take a ride
For miles across the country wide."
Another said: "The plan is fine;
You well deserve to head the line;
But, on the road, the reins I'll draw;
I know the way to 'gee' and 'haw,'
And how to turn a corner round,
And still keep wheels upon the ground."
Another answered: "No, my friend,
We'll not on one alone depend;
But three or four the reins will hold,
That horses may be well controlled.
The curves are short, the hills are steep,
The horses fast, and ditches deep,
And at some places half the band
May have to take the lines in hand."
That night, according to their plan,
The Brownies to the stable ran;
Through swamps they cut to reach the place,
And cleared the fences in their race
As lightly as the swallow flies
To catch its morning meal supplies.
Though, in the race, some clothes were soiled,
And stylish shoes completely spoiled,
Across the roughest hill or rock
They scampered like a frightened flock,
Now o'er inclosures knee and knee,
With equal speed they clambered free
And soon with faces all aglow
They crowded round the Tally-Ho;
But little time they stood to stare
Or smile upon the strange affair.
As many hands make labor light,
And active fingers win the fight,
Each busy Brownie played his part,
And soon 't was ready for the start.
But ere they took their seats to ride
By more than one the horns were tried,
Each striving with tremendous strain
The most enlivening sound to gain,
And prove he had a special right
To blow the horn throughout the night.
Though some were crowded in a seat,
And some were forced to keep their feet
Or sit upon another's lap,
And some were hanging to a strap,
With merry laugh and ringing shout,
And tooting horns, they drove about.
A dozen miles, perhaps, or more,
The lively band had traveled o'er,
Commenting on their happy lot
And keeping horses on the trot,
When, as they passed a stunted oak
A wheel was caught, the axle broke!
Then some went out with sudden pitch,
And some were tumbled in the ditch,
And one jumped off to save his neck,
While others still hung to the wreck.
Confusion reigned, for coats were rent,
And hats were crushed, and horns were bent,
And what began with fun and clatter
Had turned to quite a serious matter.
Some blamed the drivers, others thought
The tooting horns the trouble brought.
More said, that they small wisdom showed,
Who left the root so near the road.
But while they talked about their plight
Upon them burst the morning light
With all the grandeur and the sheen
That June could lavish on the scene.
So hitching horses where they could,
The Brownies scampered for the wood.
And lucky were the Brownies spry:
A dark and deep ravine was nigh
That seemed to swallow them alive
So quick were they to jump and dive,
To safely hide from blazing day
That fast had driven night away,
And forced them to leave all repairs
To other heads and hands than theirs.
THE BROWNIES ON
THE RACE-TRACK.
HILE Brownies moved around one night
A seaside race-track came in sight.
"'T is here," said one, "the finest breed
Of horses often show their speed;
Here, neck and neck, and nose and nose,
Beneath the jockeys' urging blows,
They sweep around the level mile
The people shouting all the while;
And climbing up or crowding through
To gain a better point of view,
So they can see beyond a doubt
How favorites are holding out."
Another said: "I know the place
Where horses wait to-morrow's race;
We'll strap the saddles on their back,
And lead them out upon the track.
Then some will act the jockey's part,
And some, as judges, watch the start,
And drop the crimson flag to show
The start is fair and all must go."
Ere long, the Brownies turned to haul
Each wondering race-horse from his stall.
They bridled them without delay,
And saddles strapped in proper way.
Some restless horses rearing there
Would toss their holders high in air,
And test the courage and the art
Of those who took an active part.
Said one: "I've lurked in yonder wood,
And watched the races when I could.
I know how all is done with care
When thus for racing they prepare;
How every buckle must be tight,
And every strap and stirrup right,
Or jockeys would be on the ground
Before they circled half way round."
When all was ready for the show
Each Brownie rogue was nowise slow
At climbing up to take a place
And be a jockey in the race.
Full half a dozen Brownies tried
Upon one saddle now to ride;
But some were into service pressed
As judges to control the rest—
To see that rules were kept complete,
And then decide who won the heat.
A dozen times they tried to start;
Some shot ahead like jockeys smart,
And were prepared to take the lead
Around the track at flying speed.
But others were so far behind,
On horses of unruly mind,
The judges from the stand declare
The start was anything but fair.
So back they'd jog at his command,
In better shape to pass the stand.
Indeed it was no simple trick
To ride those horses, shy and quick,
And only for the mystic art
That is the Brownies' special part,
A dozen backs, at least, had found
A resting-place upon the ground.
The rules of racing were not quite
Observed in full upon that night.
Around and round the track they flew,
In spite of all the judge could do.
The race, he tried to let them know,
Had been decided long ago.
But still the horses kept the track,
With Brownies clinging to each back.
Some racers of the jumping kind
At times disturbed the riders' mind
When from the track they sudden wheeled,
And over fences took the field,
As if they hoped in some such mode
To rid themselves of half their load.
But horses, howsoever smart,
Are not a match for Brownie art,
For still the riders stuck through all,
In spite of fence, or ditch, or wall.
Some clung to saddle, some to mane,
While others tugged at bridle rein.
So all the steeds found it would pay
To let the Brownies have their way,
Until a glimpse of rising sun
Soon made them leave the place and run.
THE BROWNIES' BIRTHDAY DINNER.
HEN people through the county planned
To give their public dinners grand,
The Brownies met at day's decline
To have a birthday banquet fine.
"The proper things," a speaker cried,
"Await us here on every side;
We simply have to reach and take
And choose a place to boil and bake.
With meal and flour at our feet,
And wells of water pure and sweet,
That Brownie must be dull indeed
Who lacks the gumption to proceed.
We'll peel the pumpkins, ripened well,
And scoop them hollow, like a shell,
Then slice them up the proper size
To make at length those famous pies,
For which the people, small and great,
Are ever quick to reach a plate."
This pleased them all; so none were slow
In finding work at which to go.
A stove that chance threw in their way
Was put in shape without delay.
Though doors were cracked, and legs were rare,
The spacious oven still was there,
Where pies and cakes and puddings wide
Might bake together side by side.
The level top, though incomplete,
Gave pots and pans a welcome seat,
Where stews could steam and dumplings found
A fitting place to roll around.
Some lengths of pipe were raised on high
That made the soot and cinders fly,
And caused a draught throughout the wreck
That door or damper failed to check.
The rogues who undertook the part,
That tries the cook's delightful art,
Had smarting hands and faces red
Before the table-cloth was spread;
But what cared they at such an hour
For singeing flame or scalding shower?
Such ills are always reckoned slight
When great successes are in sight.
There cakes and tarts and cookies fine,
Of both the "leaf" and "notched" design,
Were ranged in rows around the pan
That into heated ovens ran;
Where, in what seemed a minute's space,
Another batch would take their place;
While birds, that had secured repose
Above the reach of Reynard's nose,
Without the aid of wings came down
To be at midnight roasted brown.
They found some boards and benches laid
Aside by workmen at their trade,
And these upon the green were placed
By willing hands with proper haste.
Said one, who board and bench combined:
"All art is not to cooks confined,
And some expertness we can show
As well as those who mix the dough."
And all was as the speaker said;
In fact, they were some points ahead;
For when the cooks their triumphs showed,
The table waited for its load.
The knives and forks and dishes white
By secret methods came to light.
Much space would be required to tell
Just how the table looked so well;
But kitchen cupboards, three or four,
Must there have yielded up their store;
For all the guests on every side
With full equipments were supplied.
When people find a carver hacked,
A saucer chipped, or platter cracked,
They should be somewhat slow to claim
That servants are the ones to blame;
For Brownies may have used the ware
And failed to show the proper care.
A few, as waiters, passed about
New dishes when the old gave out,
And saw the plates, as soon as bare,
Were heaped again with something rare.
No member, as you may believe,
Was anxious such a place to leave,
Until he had a taste at least
Of all the dishes in the feast.
The Brownies, when they break their fast,
Will eat as long as viands last,
And even birds can not depend
On crumbs or pickings at the end:
The plates were scraped, the kettles clean,
And not a morsel to be seen,
Ere Brownies from that table ran
To shun the prying eyes of man.
THE BROWNIES' HALLOW-EVE.
N Hallow-eve, that night of fun,
When elves and goblins frisk and run,
And many games and tricks are tried
At every pleasant fireside,
The Brownies halted to survey
A village that below them lay,
And wondered as they rested there
To hear the laughter fill the air
That from the happy children came
As they enjoyed some pleasant game.
Said one: "What means this merry flow
That comes so loudly from below,
Uncommon pleasures must abound
Where so much laughter can be found."
Another said: "Now, by your leave,
I'll tell you 't is All-Hallow-eve,
When people meet to have their sport
At curious games of every sort;
I know them all from first to last,
And now, before the night has passed,
For some convenient place we'll start
Without delay to play our part."
Two dozen mouths commenced to show
Their teeth in white and even row;
Two dozen voices cried with speed,
"The plan is good we're all agreed."
And in a trice four dozen feet
Went down the hill with even beat.
Without a long or wearying race
The Brownies soon secured a place
That answered well in every way
For all the games they wished to play.
There tubs of water could be found,
By which to stoop or kneel around,
And strive to bring the pennies out
That on the bottom slipped about.
Then heads were wet and shoulders, too,
Where some would still the coin pursue,
And mouth about now here and there
Without a pause or breath of air
Until in pride, with joyful cries,
They held aloft the captured prize.
More stood the tempting bait beneath,
And with a hasty snap of teeth
The whirling apple thought to claim
And shun the while the candle's flame,—
But found that with such pleasure goes
An eye-brow singed, or blistered nose.
More named the oats as people do
To try which hearts are false, which true,
And on the griddle placed the pair
To let them part or smoulder there;
And smiled to see, through woe or weal,
How often hearts were true as steel.
Still others tried to read their fate
Or fortune in a dish or plate,
Learn whether they would ever wed,
Or lead a single life instead;
Or if their mate would be a blessing,
Or prove a partner most distressing.
Then others in the open air,
Of fun and frolic had their share;
Played "hide and seek," and "blindman's buff,"
And "tag" o'er places smooth or rough,
And "snap the whip" and "trip the toe,"
And games that none but Brownies know.
As if their lives at stake were placed,
They jumped around and dodged and raced,
And tumbled headlong to the ground
When feet some hard obstruction found;
At times across the level mead,
Some proved their special claims to speed,
And as reward of merit wore
A wreath of green till sport was o'er.
The hours flew past as hours will
When joys do every moment fill;
The moon grew weak and said good-night,
And turned her pallid face from sight;
Then weakening stars began to fail,
But still the Brownies kept the vale;
Full many a time had hours retired
Much faster than the band desired,
And pleasure seemed too sweet to lay
Aside, because of coming day,
But never yet with greater pain
Did they behold the crimson stain
That morning spread along the sky,
And told them they must homeward fly
THE BROWNIES' FLAG-POLE.
HE Brownies through a village bound,
Paused in their run to look around,
And wondered why the central square
Revealed no flag-pole tall and fair.
Said one: "Without delay we'll go
To woods that stand some miles below.
The tall spruce lifts its tapering crest
So straight and high above the rest,
We soon can choose a flag-pole there
To ornament this village square.
Then every one a hand will lend
To trim it off from end to end,
To peel it smooth and paint it white,
And hoist it in the square to-night."
Then to the woods the Brownies ran
At once to carry out their plan;
While some ran here and there with speed
For implements to serve their need,
Some rambled through the forest free
To find the proper kind of tree,
Then climbed the tree while yet it stood
To learn if it was sound and good,
Without a flaw, a twist, or bend,
To mar its looks from end to end.
When one was found that suited well,
To work the active Brownies fell;
And soon with sticks beneath their load,
The band in grand procession strode;
It gave them quite enough to do
To safely put the project through,
But when they reached the square, at last,
Some ropes around the pole were passed
And from the tops of maples tall
A crowd began to pull and haul,
While others gathered at the base
Until the flag-pole stood in place.
For Brownies seldom idle stand
When there is fun or work on hand.
At night when darkness wraps us round
They come from secret haunts profound,
With brushes, pots of paint, and all,
They clamber over fence and wall;
And soon on objects here and there
That hold positions high in air,
And most attract the human eye,
The marks of Brownie fingers lie.
Sometimes with feet that never tire
They climb the tall cathedral spire;
When all the town is still below,
Save watchmen pacing to and fro,
By light of moon, and stars alone,
They dust the marble and the stone,
And with their brushes, small and great,
They paint and gild the dial-plate;
And bring the figures plain in sight
That all may note Time's rapid flight.
And accidents they often know
While through the heavy works they go,
Where slowly turning wheels at last
In bad position hold them fast.
But Brownies, notwithstanding all
The hardships that may them befall,
Still persevere in every case
Till morning drives them from the place.
And then with happy hearts they fly
To hide away from human eye.
THE BROWNIES ON THE CANAL.
NE night the Brownies stood beside
A long canal, whose silent tide
Connected seaboard cities great
With inland sections of the state.
The laden boats, so large and strong,
Were tied to trees by hawsers long;
No boatmen stood by helm or oar,
No mules were tugging on the shore;
All work on land and water too
Had been abandoned by the crew.
Said one: "We see, without a doubt,
What some dispute has brought about.
Perhaps a strike for greater pay,
For even rates, or shorter day,
Has caused the boats to loiter here
With cargoes costing some one dear.
These cabbages so large and round
Should, long ere this, the dish have found,
Upon some kitchen-stove or range
To spread an odor rich and strange;
Those squashes, too, should not be lost
By long exposure to the frost,
When they would prove so great a prize
To old and young, if baked in pies.
And then those pippins, ripe and fair,
From some fine orchard picked with care,
Should not to rot and ruin go,
Though work is hard or wages low,
When thousands would be glad to stew
The smallest apples there in view."
Another said: "We lack the might
To set the wrongs of labor right,
But by the power within us placed
We'll see that nothing goes to waste.
So every hand must be applied
That boats upon their way may glide."
Then some ran here and there with speed
To find a team to suit their need.
A pair of mules, that grazed about
The grassy banks, were fitted out
With straps and ropes without delay
To start the boats upon their way;
And next some straying goats were found,
Where in a yard they nibbled round
Destroying plants of rarest kind
That owners in the town could find.
Soon, taken from their rich repast,
They found themselves in harness fast;
Then into active service pressed
They trod the tow-path with the rest.
On deck some Brownies took their stand
To man the helm, or give command,
And oversee the work; while more
Stayed with the teams upon the shore.
At times the rope would drag along
And catch on snags or branches long,
And cause delays they ill could bear,
For little time they had to spare.
With accidents they often met,
And some were bruised and more were wet;
Some tumbled headlong down the hold;
And some from heaping cargoes rolled.
But what care Brownies for a bruise,
Or garments wet, from hat to shoes,
When enterprises bold and new
Must ere the dawn be carried through?
If half the band were drenched, no doubt
The work would still be carried out,
For extra strength would then be found
In those who still were safe and sound.
But once, when "low bridge!" was the shout
They stood and stared or ran about
Till in the water, heels o'er head,
Some members of the band were spread.
A few could swim, and held their own;
But more went downward like a stone
Until, without the plummet's aid,
They learned how deep canals are made.
In spite of all the kicks and flings
That fright at such a moment brings,
Through lack of art, or weight of fear,
It looked as if their end was near.
The order now to stop the team
Would pass along with sign and scream,
And those on land would know by this
That something startling was amiss;
And those on board could plainly see
Unless assistance there could be,
In shape of ropes and fingers strong,
There'd be some vacancies, ere long!
By chance a net was to be had,
That boatmen used for catching shad—
A gill-net of the strongest kind,
For heavy catches well designed;
Few shad against its meshes ran
But left their bones on some one's pan,
This bulky thing the active crew
Far overboard with promptness threw.
A hold at once some Brownies found,
While others in its folds were bound,
Until like fish in great dismay
Inside the net they struggling lay.
But willing hands were overhead,
And quickly from the muddy bed
Where shedder crabs and turtles crawled
The dripping net was upward hauled,
With all the Brownies clinging fast,
Till safe on deck they stood at last.
Sometimes a mule fell off the road
And in the stream with all its load.
Then precious time would be consumed
Before the trip could be resumed.
Thus on they went from mile to mile,
With many strange mishaps the while,
But working bravely through the night
Until the city came in sight.
Said one: "Now, thanks to bearded goats
And patient mules, the heavy boats
For hours have glided on their way,
And reached the waters of the bay.
But see, the sun's about to show
His colors to the world below,
And other birds than those of night
Begin to take their morning flight.
Our time is up; we've done our best;
The ebbing tide must do the rest;
Now drifting downward to their pier
Let barges unassisted steer,
While we make haste, with nimble feet,
To find in woods a safe retreat."
THE BROWNIES IN THE STUDIO.
THE Brownies once approached in glee
A slumbering city by the sea.
"In yonder town," the leader cried,
"I hear the artist does reside
Who pictures out, with patient hand,
The doings of the Brownie band."
"I'd freely give," another said,
"The cap that now protects my head,
To find the room, where, day by day,
He shows us at our work or play."
A third replied: "Your cap retain
To shield your poll from snow or rain.
His studio is farther down,
Within a corner-building brown.
So follow me a mile or more
And soon we'll reach the office door."
Then through the park, around the square,
And down the broadest thoroughfare,
The anxious Brownies quickly passed,
And reached the building huge at last.
They paused awhile to view the sight,
To speak about its age and height,
And read the signs, so long and wide,
That met the gaze on every side.
But little time was wasted there,
For soon their feet had found the stair.
And next the room, where oft are told
Their funny actions, free and bold,
Was honored by a friendly call
From all the Brownies, great and small.
Then what a gallery they found,
As here and there they moved around—
For now they gaze upon a scene
That showed them sporting on the green;
Then, hastening o'er the fields with speed
To help some farmer in his need.
Said one, "Upon this desk, no doubt,
Where now we cluster round about,
Our doings have been plainly told
From month to month, through heat and cold.
And there's the ink, I apprehend,
On which our very lives depend.
Be careful, moving to and fro,
Lest we upset it as we go.
For who can tell what tales untold
That darksome liquid may unfold!"
A telephone gave great delight
To those who tried it half the night,
Some asking after fresh supplies;
Or if their stocks were on the rise;
What ship was safe; what bank was firm;
Or who desired a second term.
Thus messages ran to and fro
With "Who are you?" "Hallo!" "Hallo!"
And all the repetitions known
To those who use the telephone.
"Oh, here's the pen, as I opine,"
Said one, "that's written every line;
Indebted to this pen are we
For all our fame and history."
"See here," another said, "I've found
The pointed pencil, long and round,
That pictures all our looks so wise,
Our smiles so broad and staring eyes;
'Tis well it draws us all aright,
Or we might bear it off to-night.
But glad are we to have our name
In every region known to fame,
To know that children lisp our praise,
And on our faces love to gaze."
Old pistols that brave service knew
At Bunker Hill, were brought to view
In mimic duels on the floor,
And snapped at paces three or four;
While from the foils the Brownies plied,
The sparks in showers scattered wide,
As thrust and parry, cut and guard,
In swift succession followed hard.
The British and Mongolian slash
Were tried in turn with brilliant dash,
Till foils, and skill, and temper too,
Were amply tested through and through.
They found old shields that bore the dint
Of spears and arrow-heads of flint,
And held them up in proper pose;
Then rained upon them Spartan blows.
Lay figures, draped in ancient styles,
From some drew graceful bows and smiles,
Until the laugh of comrades nigh
Led them to look with sharper eye.
A portrait now they criticize,
Which every one could recognize:
The features, garments, and the style,
Soon brought to every face a smile.
Some tried a hand at painting there,
And showed their skill was something rare;
While others talked and rummaged through
The desk to find the stories new,
That told about some late affair,
Of which the world was not aware.
But pleasure seemed to have the power
To hasten every passing hour,
And bring too soon the morning chime,
However well they note the time.
Now, from a chapel's brazen bell,
The startling hint of morning fell,
And Brownies realized the need
Of leaving for their haunts with speed.
So down the staircase to the street
They made their way with nimble feet,
And ere the sun could show his face,
The band had reached a hiding-place.
