ON GUARD.—Drawn by Sol Eytinge, Jun.
ON GUARD.
Halt! Not a step farther! Don't move for your life!
You're a very nice squirrel, I haven't a doubt
(Although you've forgotten, I see, to put on
Your kilt and your jacket before you came out),
But where you now are you must stop for an hour
Or two, and quite silent meanwhile you must keep,
For a weary long way we have travelled to-day,
And my dear little master lies there fast asleep.
Of course you don't know—you've grown up in the woods,
With no one to teach you—how fine 'tis to be
Great artists as we are! You've heard but the birds,
And seen only squirrels jump round in a tree.
My master the sweetest of music can make
(Sh! you rustled a leaf—he half-opened his eyes),
And a gun I can handle, a drum I can beat,
And I dance like a fairy—I tell you no lies.
My dear little master! full oft he has shared,
Bite for bite, with me, squirrel, his very last crust,
And he's patiently carried me many a mile,
And that now I guard him I am sure is but just.
Curl your tail up still tighter, and don't let it fall
Lest a noise it should make—it's remarkably big—
And, if you are good, by-and-by we may all
Have a right merry tune and a right merry jig.
THE LITTLE GENIUS.
THE LITTLE GENIUS.
Little five-year-old Bertie was very fond of sitting at the study table with his brothers and sisters, especially when they were doing their drawing lessons. But he was not satisfied with watching them. He too wanted to draw and paint, and the older children, who were very fond of him, were always glad to indulge him by lending him their brushes, paints, and pencils. But they soon found that he was very wasteful of their materials, and would use up colors and paper faster than they could be supplied. At last they thought of a better plan. As Bertie was too young to draw nicely, they bought him some wonderful picture-books, all in outline, a box of cheap water-colors, and some brushes. Then Bertie was happy. He would sit for hours painting the pictures in Jack the Giant-killer, Mother Goose, and other story-books for little folks. When he had finished all his little books his mamma brought out some old papers which she had saved, and cutting out the nice pictures, gave them to him to paint. This he did very beautifully. Sometimes he would make funny mistakes, putting green on the horses, and blue on the little dogs and pussy-cats, but this did not happen often. In a little while he had so many nice things painted that his sisters made him a big scrap-book to keep them in, to look at when he grows up.