The Brownies: Their Book Part 13

To gaze upon the scene sublime."

A second cried: "And there's the bay From which our vessel bore away!"

"And I," another cried, "can see The shady grove, the very tree We met beneath the night we planned To build a s.h.i.+p and leave the land!"

All in confusion now at last, The birds upon the sh.o.r.e were cast.

Some, tumbling through thick branches, fell And spilled the load that clung so well.

Some, "topsy-turvy" to the ground, Dispersed their riders all around; And others still could barely get To sh.o.r.es where land and water met.

Congratulations then began, As here and there the Brownies ran,

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To learn if all had held their grip And kept aboard throughout the trip.

"And now," said one, "that all are o'er In safety to our native sh.o.r.e, You see, so wasted is the night, Orion's belt is out of sight; And ere the lamp of Venus fades We all must reach the forest shades.

THE BROWNIES' SINGING-SCHOOL.

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AS mists of evening deeper grew, The Brownies 'round a comrade drew, An interesting tale to hear About a village lying near.

"Last night," said he, "I heard arise From many throats discordant cries.

At once I followed up the sound, And soon, to my amazement, found It issued from a building small That answered for the county hall.

"I listened there around the door, By village time, an hour or more; Until I learned beyond a doubt A singing-school caused all the rout.

Some, like the hound, would keep ahead, And others seemed to lag instead.

Some singers, struggling with the tune, Outscreamed the frightened northern loon.

Some mocked the pinched or wheezing cry Of locusts when the wheat is nigh, While grumbling ba.s.sos shamed the strain Of bull-frogs calling down the rain."

The Brownies labor heart and hand All mysteries to understand; And if you think those Brownies bold Received the news so plainly told, And thought no more about the place, You're not familiar with the race.

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When scholars next their voices tried, The Brownies came from every side; With ears to knot-holes in the wall, To door-jambs, thresholds, blinds, and all, They listened to the jarring din Proceeding from the room within.

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Said one at length, "It seems to me The master here will earn his fee, If he from such a crowd can bring A single person trained to sing."

Another said, "We'll let them try Their voices till their throats are dry, And when for home they all depart, We'll not be slow to test our art."

That night the Brownies cheered to find The music had been left behind; And when they stood within the hall, And books were handed 'round to all, They pitched their voices, weak or strong, At solemn verse and lighter song.

[Ill.u.s.tration: John-ny Mor-gan play'd the organ, The father beat the drum, The sis-ter play'd the tam-bou-rine.]

Some sought a good old hymn to try; Some grappled with a lullaby; A few a painful effort made To struggle through a serenade; While more preferred the lively air That, hinting less of love or care, Possessed a chorus kind and bright In which they all could well unite.

At times some member tried to rule, And took control of all the school; But soon, despairing, was content To let them follow out their bent.

They sung both high and low, the same, As fancy led or courage came.

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Some droned the tune through teeth or nose, Some piped like quail, or cawed like crows That, hungry, wait the noonday horn To call the farmer from his corn.

By turns at windows some would stay To note the signs of coming day.

At length the morning, rising, spread Along the coast her streaks of red, And drove the Brownies from the place To undertake the homeward race.

But many members of the band Still kept their singing-books in hand, Determined not with those to part Till they were perfect in the art.

And oft in leafy forest shade, In after times, a ring they made, To pitch the tune, and raise the voice, To sing the verses of their choice, And scare from branches overhead The speckled thrush and robin red, And make them feel the time had come When singing birds might well be dumb.

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THE BROWNIES' FRIENDLY TURN.

ONE night while snow was lying deep On level plain and mountain steep, A sheltered nook the Brownies found, Where conversation might go 'round.

Said one: "The people hereabout Their wood supply have taken out; But while they stripped the timber lot, The village parson they forgot.

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Now that good man, the story goes, As best he can, must warm his toes."

Another spoke: "The way is clear To show both skill and courage here.

You're not the sort, I know, to s.h.i.+rk: And coward-like to flee from work.

You act at once whene'er you find A chance to render service kind, Nor wait to see what others do In matters that appeal to you.

"This task in waiting must be done Before another day has run.

The signs of change are in the air; A storm is near though skies are fair; As oft when smiles the broadest lie, The tears are nearest to the eye.

To work let every Brownie bend, And prove to-night the parson's friend.

We'll not take oxen from the stall, That through the day must pull and haul, Nor horses from the manger lead; But let them take the rest they need.

Since mystic power is at our call, By our own selves we'll do it all.

Our willing arms shall take the place Of clanking chain and leathern trace, And 'round the door the wood we'll strew Until we hide the house from view."

At once the Brownies sought the ground Where fuel could with ease be found,-- A place where forest-fires had spread, And left the timber scorched and dead.

And there throughout the chilly night They tugged and tore with all their might; Some bearing branches as their load; With lengthy poles still others strode,

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Or struggled till they scarce could see, With logs that bent them like a V; While more from under drifts of snow Removed old trees, and made them go Like plows along the icy street, With half their limbs and roots complete.

Some found it hard to train their log To keep its place through jolt and jog, While some, mistaking ditch for road, Were almost buried with their load, And but for friends and promptest care, The morning light had found them there.

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The wind that night was cold and keen, And frosted Brownies oft were seen.

They clapped their hands and stamped their toes, They rubbed with snow each numbing nose, And drew the frost from every face Before it proved a painful case.

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