Happy Days for Boys and Girls Part 34

THE FORCED RABBIT.

A FUNNY FACT TOLD IN VERSE.

You have heard of forced potatoes, have you not, dear little folks?

Of melons forced, and cuc.u.mbers, and grapes in purple cloaks?

But I have seen, and handled, too--and oh, the sight was funny!-- A rabbit forced, a tiny one, a snow-white little Bunny.

Two little girls of ten and twelve--I love them very much-- Once thought a tenant they would like for their new rabbit-hutch, So off to town they drove one day, and there a rabbit bought, And home the furry tenant in their pony-carriage brought.

They petted, nursed and fondled it, and showed it every care, And said before it went to bed its sheets of straw they'd air; They also begged it very hard itself at home to make, And hoped, although its bed was strange, it would not lie awake.

How happy was this Bunny white I really cannot tell, But certainly it happy looked, and was extremely well; Its eyes were bright, its nose was cool, its tongue a lovely pink.

And for its pulse--well, that was strong and regular, I think.

When summer came, the little girls were taken to the sea, And left their rabbit with the groom--a youth of twenty-three.

They bathed and dug upon the sh.o.r.e, and played with Cousin Jack; They heard the band upon the sand, and rode on donkey-back.

Then home they came, and went at once to see their Bunny dear, To stroke his ribs, and pat his head, and feel each wiry ear; But oh! alas! they found him not--the rabbit was not there!

His hutch, like Mrs. Hubbard's shelf, was very, very bare.

Now, where is he? They called the groom, the youth of twenty-three, And said, "Oh, George, where's Bunny gone? Oh where, oh where is he?"

"He's in the hot-house," George replied; "the gardener put him there, For he was growing thinner, miss, and losing all his hair."

They trotted to the garden then, and there the Bunny found, And 'neath a vine beheld their pet reposing on the ground.

"Why, what is that?" they both exclaimed; "can that a rabbit be?

I never in my life before so strange a thing did see!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RABBIT.]

They were surprised, and certainly the sight was strange to view, For Bunny looked so very huge, and such a bundle too!

Such fat he had, and lots of hair, they longed a bit to pull; He was exactly like a ball of living cotton-wool.

No tailor ever did produce a coat so superfine, 'Twas white as snow, and very thick on stomach, chest and spine-- As thick as heads of stupid boys with countenances glum; And oh! the hair was very long--as long as any sum!

A host of friends and neighbors came the funny sight to see, To one and all a rabbit forced was quite a novelty; And everybody petted him, and loved him very much, And brought him goody-goodies for the larder in his hutch.

One day--and now my pen and ink the deepest mourning wear-- They let him out upon the lawn for exercise and air; They turned their backs, two dogs rushed up, and one, with swelling chest, Seized Bunny by his woolly throat, and--you must guess the rest.

UP AND DOING.

Boys, be up and doing, For the day's begun; Soon will come the noontide, Then the set of sun; At your tasks toil bravely Till your work is done.

Let your hands be busy In some useful way; Don't neglect your study, Don't forget your play; There is time enough for each Every blessed day.

A DARING FEAT.

Remarkable for its spire, the loftiest of St. Petersburg, is the church of St. Peter and St. Paul. An anecdote connected with this church, and not known, I believe, out of Russia, is worth telling. The spire, which rises

"Lofty, and light, and small,"

and is probably represented in an engraving as fading away almost into a point in the sky, is, in reality, terminated by a globe of considerable dimensions, on which an angel stands, supporting a large cross. This angel was out of repair; and some suspicions were entertained that he designed visiting, uninvoked, the surface of the earth. The affair caused some uneasiness, and the government at length became greatly perplexed. To raise a scaffolding to such a height would cost a large sum of money; and in meditating fruitlessly on this circ.u.mstance, without knowing how to act, some time was suffered to elapse.

Among the crowd of gazers below, who daily turned their eyes and their thoughts towards the angel, was a mujik called Telouchkine. This man was a roofer of houses (a slater, as he would be called in countries where slates were used); and his speculations by degrees a.s.sumed a more practical character than the idle wonders and conjectures of the rest of the crowd. The spire was entirely covered with sheets of gilded copper, and presented to the eye a surface as smooth as if it had been one ma.s.s of burnished gold. But Telouchkine knew that the sheets of copper were not even uniformly closed upon each other, and, above all, that there were large nails used to fasten them, which projected from the side of the spire.

Having thought on these circ.u.mstances till his mind was made up, Telouchkine went to the government and offered to repair the angel without scaffolding, and without a.s.sistance, on condition of being reasonably paid for the time expended in the labor. The offer was accepted.

The day fixed for the adventure arrives. Telouchkine, provided with nothing more than a coil of ropes, ascends the spire in the interior to the last window. Here he looks down at the concourse of the people below, and up at the glittering "needle," as it is called, tapering far above his head. But his heart does not fail him; and stepping gravely out upon the window, he sets about his task.

He cuts a portion of the cord in the form of two large stirrups, with a loop at each end. The upper loops he fastens upon two of the projecting nails above his head, and places his foot in the others.

Then digging the fingers of one hand into the interstices of the sheets of copper, he raises one of the stirrups with the other hand, so as to make it catch a nail higher up. The same operation he performs on behalf of the other leg, and so on alternately. And thus he climbs, nail by nail, step by step, and stirrup by stirrup, till his starting-point is undistinguished from the golden surface, and the spire dwindles in his embrace till he can clasp it all round.

So far, so well. But he now reaches the ball--a globe of between nine and ten feet in circ.u.mference. The angel, the object of this visit, is above this ball, and concealed from his view by its smooth, round, and glittering expanse. Only fancy the wretch at this moment, turning up his grave eyes, and graver beard, to an obstacle that seems to defy the daring and intrepidity of man!

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SEA.]

But Telouchkine is not dismayed. He is prepared for the difficulty; and the means he used to surmount it exhibits the same remarkable simplicity as the rest of the feat.

Suspending himself in his stirrups, he girds the "needle" with a cord, the ends of which he fastens around his waist; and so supported, he leans gradually back, till the soles of his feet are planted against the spire. In this position, he throws, by a strong effort, a coil of cord over the ball; and so coolly and accurately is the aim taken, that at the first trial it falls in the required direction, and he sees the end hang down on the opposite side.

To draw himself into his original position, to fasten the cord firmly around the globe, and with the a.s.sistance of this auxiliary to climb to the summit, is now an easy part of his task; and in a few minutes more Telouchkine stands by the side of the angel, and listens to the shout that bursts like sudden thunder from the concourse below, yet comes to his ear only like a faint and hollow murmur.

The cord, which he had an opportunity of fastening properly, enabled him to descend with comparative facility; and the next day he carried up with him a ladder of ropes, by means of which he found it easy to effect the necessary repairs.

THE WORLD.

Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world, With the wonderful water around you curled, And the wonderful gra.s.s on your breast-- World, you are beautifully dressed.

The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree; It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.

You friendly Earth, how far do you go, With the wheat-fields that nod, and the rivers that flow, With cities, and gardens, and cliffs, and isles, And people upon you for thousands of miles?