Happy little girl and boy,
Dancing hand in hand
Over hill and valley land,
Filled with summer joy.
[A LITTLE BRAZILIAN.]
(A FACT.)
'Twas in Brazil last Christmas day,
While at a family feast,
A little girl of five years old
The merriment increased,
By crying out,—as glasses held
The ice she ne'er had seen,—
"Oh see! what pretty little stones.
What for? Where have they been?"
"Here, give her one," the host exclaimed,
Pleased with her childish glee.
"'Twill show her as no words could show
What ice is, and must be."
She grasped the "white stone" in her hand,
All watching eagerly,
When suddenly she let it fall,
And cried, "It's burning me."
But, anxious still to see it more,
She asked a servant near
To hand it in a napkin wrapped—
Then there would be no fear.