[C] From "Arabella and Araminta Stories." Used by permission of publishers, Small, Maynard & Co., Boston.

THE GO-SLEEP STORY[D]

BY EUDORA S. b.u.mSTEAD

"How can I go to bed," said Penny, the flossy dog, "till I say good-night to Baby Ray? He gives me part of his bread and milk, and pats me with his little, soft hand. It is bedtime now for dogs and babies. I wonder if he is asleep?"

So he trotted along in his silky, white nightgown till he found Baby Ray on the porch in mamma"s arms.



And she was telling him the same little story that I am telling you:

The doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep, Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said Snowdrop and Thistledown, the youngest children of Tabby, the cat, "till we have once more looked at Baby Ray?

He lets us play with his blocks and ball, and laughs when we climb on the table. It is bedtime now for kitties and dogs and babies. Perhaps we shall find him asleep." And this is what the kitties heard:

One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep, Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep, Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said the three little Bunnies, "till we have seen Baby Ray?" Then away they went in their white, velvet nightgowns as softly as three flakes of snow. And they, too, when they got as far as the porch, heard Ray"s mamma telling the same little story:

One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep, Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep, Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap, Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said the four white Geese, "till we know that Baby Ray is all right? He loves to watch us sail on the duck-pond, and he brings us corn in his little blue ap.r.o.n. It is bedtime now for geese and rabbits and kitties and dogs and babies, and he really ought to be asleep."

So they waddled away in their white, feather nightgowns, around by the porch, where they saw Baby Ray, and heard mamma tell the "Go-Sleep"

story:

One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep, Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep, Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap, Four geese from the duck-pond, deep, deep, deep, Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said the five white Chicks, "till we have seen Baby Ray once more? He scatters crumbs for us and calls us. Now it is bedtime for chicks and geese and rabbits and kittens and dogs and babies, so little Ray must be asleep."

Then they ran and fluttered in their downy, white nightgowns till they came to the porch, where little Ray was just closing his eyes, while mamma told the "Go-Sleep" story:

One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep, Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep, Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap, Four geese from the duck-pond, deep, deep, deep, Five downy little chicks, crying peep, peep, peep, All saw that Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

[D] Used by permission of _The Youth"s Companion_.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LAND OF NOD]

THE GENTLE DARK[E]

BY W. GRAHAME ROBERTSON

So it is over, the long bright Day, And little Maid Twilight, quiet and meek, Comes stealing along in her creep-mouse way Whispering low--for she may not speak-- "The Gentle Dark is coming to play At a game of Hide and Seek."

Some babies are cross when she whispers them this, And some are afraid and begin to cry.

I never can think what they find amiss.

Afraid of the Dark! I wonder why.

The Gentle Dark that falls like a kiss Down from the sleepy sky.

O Gentle Dark, we know you are kind By the lingering touch of your cool soft hand; As over our eyes the veil you bind We shut them tight at word of command, You are only playing at Hoodman-Blind, A game that we understand.

The voice is tender (O little one, hark!), The eyes are kindly under the hood, Blow out the candle, leave not a spark, Trusting your friend as a playmate should.

Hold up your arms to the Gentle Dark, The Dark that is kind and good.

[E] From "A Year of Song," by W. Grahame Robertson; used by permission of the publishers, John Lane Company.

THE FERRY FOR SHADOWTOWN

Sway to and fro in the twilight gray; This is the ferry for Shadowtown; It always sails at the end of the day, Just as the darkness closes down.

Rest little head, on my shoulder, so; A sleepy kiss is the only fare, Drifting away from the world, we go, Baby and I in the rocking-chair.

See where the fire-logs glow and spark, Glitter the lights of the shadowland, The raining drops on the window, hark!

Are ripples lapping upon its strand.

There, where the mirror is glancing dim, A lake lies shimmering, cool and still.

Blossoms are waving above its brim, Those over there on the window-sill.

Rock slow, more slow in the dusky light, Silently lower the anchor down; Dear little pa.s.senger, say "Good-night."

We"ve reached the harbor of Shadowtown.

HUSH-A-BYE, BABY

Hush-a-bye, baby, in the tree top: When the wind blows, the cradle will rock; When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, Down will come baby, cradle, and all.

THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

See the kitten on the wall, Sporting with the leaves that fall, Withered leaves--one--two--and three-- From the lofty elder tree!

Through the calm and frosty air Of this morning bright and fair, Eddying round and round they sink Softly, slowly: one might think From the motions that are made, Every little leaf conveyed Sylph or fairy hither tending, To this lower world descending, Each invisible and mute, In his wavering parachute.

But the kitten, how she starts, Crouches, stretches, paws and darts!

First at one and then its fellow, Just as light and just as yellow; There are many now--now one-- Now they stop and there are none: What intenseness of desire In her upward eye of fire!

With a tiger-leap, halfway, Now she meets the coming prey; Lets it go as fast and then Has it in her power again.

Now she works with three or four, Like an Indian conjuror; Quick as he in feats of art, Far beyond in joy of heart.

LATE

By Josephine Preston Peabody

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