UNCLE PETER'S SONG.
"Christmas comes but once a year, once a year, once a year! So follow me, my children dear, children dear, children dear: So follow me, my children dear, on Christmas Eve so joyful!"
(After dancing, he takes EMILY and MARY by the hand, and runs off with them, followed by the rest.)
As this is Emily's first play, and she is only nine years old, I hope the critics will not be too severe upon it. If well performed, it will be found, I think, far more amusing in the acting than in the reading.
BABY'S PINK THUMBS.
The snow had quite covered the ground,
The wind whistled fiercely and chill,
When a poor little storm-beaten bird
Flew down on the broad window-sill.
Within, there was comfort and wealth;
Gay pictures half covered the wall;
The children were happy at play;
And the fire shone bright over all.
Without, there was famine and frost;
Not a morsel of fruit or of grain;
And the bird gave a piteous chirp,
And tapped with his beak at the pane.
Then baby climbed up on a chair,
Forgetting his trumpets and drums:
He doubled his two little fists,
And pointed with both his pink thumbs.
"See, see!" and he laughed with delight,
"Pretty bird, pretty bird: here he comes!"
When the bird, with a bob of his head,
Made a peck at the baby's pink thumbs.
Then the children called out with great glee,
"He thinks they are cherries, or plums,
Or pieces of apple; and so
He tries to eat baby's pink thumbs."
"Poor birdie!" said mamma: "we know
That God for his creatures will care;
But he gives to his thoughtfuller ones
The pleasure of doing their share.
"We softly will open the sash,
And scatter a handful of crumbs;
And, when birdie wants breakfast again,
He needn't peck baby's pink thumbs.
"He may come day by day, if he will,
To a feast on the broad window-ledge,
And fly, when he's eaten his fill,
To his home in the evergreen hedge."
OLIVE A. WADSWORTH.
ABOUT FLAX, BARLEY, AND RYE.
Arthur had been looking at some pictures in a book; but he did not quite understand what they were: so he called on Uncle Oscar to explain.
Uncle Oscar took him on his knee, and said, "This, Arthur, is a picture of the flax-plant, a very useful plant indeed; for from it we make linen. Your apron is linen: so are the collar and wristbands on my shirt.
"
The flax-plant bears delicate blue flowers, which look very pretty when in bloom. Flax is raised very largely in Kentucky, and other States in the Union. Do you know what part of the plant is the stalk? I will point it out to you in the picture.
FLAX.
"Well, from this stalk the thread, or fibres, are got, out of which linen cloth is made. The flax is pulled a little before the seeds are ripe: it is stripped, and the stalks are soaked in water. The flax is then dried, and broken and beaten till the threads, or fibres, of the bark are fit for spinning. From the seeds, linseed-oil is made.
"Is it not strange, Arthur, that out of the stalk of this little plant should be made the nice white linen of your apron and my handkerchief?"
Arthur thought it very strange. Then, pointing to another picture, he said, "What's this, Uncle Oscar?"
BARLEY.
"That, Arthur, is a picture of barley as it grows in the field. It yields a very useful kind of grain. You have eaten it in soup, and also boiled. Stripped of the husk, and rounded and polished in a mill, the grains are pearly white; and then they are known as pearl-barley."
"Here's another picture, Uncle Oscar."
"Did you ever eat rye-bread, Arthur?"
"Why, yes, Uncle Oscar! we had it for breakfast."
Well, here is a picture of rye as it grows in the field. It is one of the best of grain-bearing grasses. It will grow
where the weather is very cold. The straw is often worth almost as much as the grain.
RYE.
"Rye grows on poor, light soils, which are altogether unfit for the wheat out of which we make our white bread. Sometimes we mix rye-flour with wheaten-flour, or with corn-meal, and so get a very good kind of bread."
"Can I plant some flax-seed, and barley, and rye?" asked Arthur.
"Yes, my boy," said Uncle Oscar. "You shall have some to plant in your garden next May. I think you will be pleased with the flax-plant, because of its pretty blue-flower."
