My Treasure Part 1

My Treasure.

by Thomas W. Handford.

I WONDER, I WONDER.

MY TREASURE.

THOMAS W. HANDFORD.

Bright with smiles and wreathed with flowers.

Happy be thy morning hours; Cloudless skies above thy head, Fair the earth for thee to tread, Songs of birds thy path attend;-- All the good that heaven can send, Crown with joy thy morning hours, Wreathed with smiles and bright with flowers.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

A RECKLESS RIDE.

Reckless Ina, she was called, because she did so many reckless things.

But her name was Ina Bradford. She had no brothers, so she used to tell her father that she would be his boy. And it was no trial to Ina do boy's work.

Dish-was.h.i.+ng she particularly disliked. And as to sewing--why, she had rather go ragged any time than sew up the rents in her dress.

The one thing that Ina enjoyed more than anything else in the world, was riding on horseback. Her father kept several horses. And he was perfectly willing she should use any of the farm horses whenever she liked. But Black Jupiter she must never touch. He was a large, high-spirited horse, very unsafe for a young girl. But oh! how Ina longed to get on Jupiter's back.

One day when her father had gone away Ina resolved to try. She put bridle and saddle on without trouble. But the moment Black Jupiter felt her weight on his back, he started on a run up the street. At first Ina thought it great fun, but by and by her arms ached so she could scarcely hold the bridle. And when Jupiter jumped at the cackling of a goose, Ina would have fallen if a strong, brave boy had not caught the bridle. Ina did not care to ride Black Jupiter again.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A RECKLESS RIDE.]

THE FIs.h.i.+NG BOAT NANCY.

Here is the fish-ing boat Nan-cy. But where is the fish-er-man? Oh! he has gone up the beach to his house to see his wife and his lit-tle daugh-ter. He was in a great hur-ry, for he did not wait to take down his sails, but on-ly made the boat fast to an old pile.

The rea-son of his haste was that his lit-tle daugh-ter Bess is quite ill. He had to go to sea this morn-ing, for he is a poor man, and must work ev-er-y day, but when he left Bess was in a fe-ver. All day long he has been ve-ry anx-ious. But now good news is wait-ing him. At four o'clock the fe-ver left her, and she is much bet-ter, and is wait-ing for her pa-pa to come in. How glad he will be! But he can-not stop long now, on-ly just to give her a kiss, for the boat must be ta-ken care of, and the fish that he has caught must be sent to mar-ket; so back he will go, but he will work now with a light-er heart, for his fear is gone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FIs.h.i.+NG BOAT NANCY.]

THE LITTLE RILL.

Drop by drop the lit-tle rill Feeds the lim-pid stream be-low, Gleam-ing, spark-ling down the hill, Till it joins the riv-er's flow.

Drop by drop the whole night long; Drop by drop the long night through, Sing-ing low and soft its song; Leaps the rill, in meas-ure true.

Drop by drop like gems of light, Danc-ing where the sun-beams play, Grows the stream-let clear and bright, Where the sweet ferns line the way.

Like a mol-ten sil-ver tide Led by fai-ries, here and there; Now by rug-ged moun-tain side; Now by pas-ture green and fair.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LITTLE RILL.]

THE ROBIN.

LIT-TLE rob-in, wild bird, Sing-ing sweet and blithe, Care-less of Time's hour gla.s.s And his crook-ed scythe, Prod-i-gal of pleas-ure In a harm-less way, Greet-ing in the sun-s.h.i.+ne This thy hol-i-day.

When the or-phan chil-dren Wan-dered in the wood, We shall stillre-mem-ber Thou wert kind and good; As their cheeks grew pa-ler, And with tears were wet, Thou didst sprin-kle o'er them Man-y a vi-o-let.

Cheer us in the au-tumn, When the rains be-gin, While the gay flow-ers with-er, And the woods grow thin.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE BLACKSMITH.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CLANG, cling, clang, cling!

Bel-lows, you must roar; and, an-vil, you must ring; Ham-mer, you and I must work, for ding, dong, ding!

Must dress my Kate and ba-by, and bread for us must bring.

COWSLIPS.

Yel-low, yel-low cow-slip, Grow-ing in the gra.s.s, Thou dost bloom so bright-ly, Thou dost smell so sweet-ly, That the ve-ry cat-tle Light-ly o'er thee pa.s.s.

Yel-low, yel-low cow-slip, Chil-dren gath-er thee In the ear-ly sum-mer, In the dew-y morn-ing, When his nest be-side thee, Leaves the lark so free.

Yel-low, yel-low cow-slip, s.h.i.+n-ing in the sun, When the tall gra.s.s mead-ows Yield un-to the mow-ers, Then thy life is end-ed, Pen-sive lit-tle one.