What in the world they had to forgive, n.o.body knows; but then, so long as forgiveness proved such an eminently satisfactory arrangement, all round--why, n.o.body need care.
The children waited outside the gate while d.i.c.k coaxed his mother to let him go, and standing there, hand in hand, Daisy plucked up heart of grace and with very rosy cheeks and an air about her of general penitence, said something very sweet in a very small voice:
"I"m sorry you were whipped, and oh, Tommy, I wish I hadn"t said you"d holler!"
Mrs. AMY TERESE POWELSON.
Baby thinks it fine, In the summer-time, To wade in the brook clear and bright.
But a big green frog Jumped off of a log, And gave Baby Charlotte quite a fright.
THE THREE FISHERS.
Three fishers went sailing away to the West-- Away to the West as the sun went down; Each thought on the woman who loved him best, And the children stood watching them out of the town; For men must work, and women must weep, And there"s little to earn and many to keep, Though the harbor-bar be moaning.
Three wives sat up in the light-house tower And trimmed the lamps as the sun went down; They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, And the night-wrack came rolling up, ragged and brown.
But men must work and women must weep, Though storms be sudden and waters deep, And the harbor-bar be moaning.
Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down, And the women are weeping and wringing their hands, For those who will never come back to the town; For men must work, and women must weep-- And the sooner it"s over, the sooner to sleep-- And good-by to the bar and its moaning.
CHARLES KINGSLEY.
Lion with your s.h.a.ggy mane, Tell me, are you wild or tame?
On little boys do you like to sup, If I come near, will you eat me up?
"APPLES FINKEY"--THE WATER-BOY.
"Apples Finkey!" Many a name Has a grander sound in the roll of fame;
Many a more resplendent deed Has burst to light in the hour of need;
But never a one from a truer heart, Striving to know and to do its part.
Striving, under his skin of tan, With the years of a lad to act like a man.
And who was "Apples?" I hear you ask.
To trace his descent were indeed a task.
Winding and vague was the family road-- And, perhaps, like Topsy, "he only growed."
But into the camp he lolled one noon, Barefoot, and whistling a darky tune,
Into the camp of his dusky peers-- The gallant negro cavaliers--
The Tenth, preparing, at break o" day, To move to the transport down in the bay.
Boom! roared the gun--the ship swung free, With her good prow turned to the Carib Sea.
"Pity it was, for the little cuss, We couldn"t take "Apples" along with us,"
The trooper said, as he walked the deck, And Tampa became a vanishing speck.
What"s that? A stir and a creak down there In the piled-up freight--then a tuft of hair,
Crinkled and woolly and unshorn-- And out popped "Apples" "ez sh.o.r.e"s yer born!"
Of course he wasn"t provided for In the colonel"s roll or the rules of war;
But somehow or other the troop was glad To welcome the little darky lad.
You know how our brave men, white and black, Landed and followed the Spaniard"s track;
And the Tenth was there in the very front, Seeking and finding the battle"s brunt.
Onward they moved through the living h.e.l.l Where the enemy"s bullets like raindrops fell,
Down through the brush, and onward still Till they came to the foot of San Juan hill--
Then up they went, with never a fear, And the heights were won with a mad, wild cheer!
And where was "the mascot Finkey" then?
In the surging ranks of the fighting men!
Wherever a trooper was seen to fall, In the open field or the chaparral;
Wherever was found a wounded man; "Apples" was there with his water and can.
About him the shrapnel burst in vain-- He was up and on with his work again.
The sharpshooters rattled a sharp tattoo, The singing mausers around him flew.
But "Apples" was busy--too busy to care For the instant death and the danger there.
Many a parched throat burning hot, Many a victim of Spanish shot,
Was blessed that day; ere the fight was won Under the tropical, deadly sun,
By the cool drops poured from the water-can Of the dusky lad who was all a man.
In the forward trenches, at close of day, Burning with fever, "Finkey" lay.