PETERLIN ON HIS TRAVELS
Peterlin was a chick just five days out of the shell. He began to think he was somebody now. The old cornfield became too narrow for him. He must start out on his travels, and see something of the world.
Biddy, his mother, clucked and scolded away at him, and told him how he might lose himself in the grass, and never find his way home.
But it was of no use. The mother's warnings were unheeded. Off started Peterlin; and, before he was well aware of it, the cornfield lay far behind him, and he found himself standing on a rock, and gazing forth over the wide world.
The valley lay open before him. Dear me, what a world it seemed!—so very vast! With fright and amazement Peterlin looked down on all the magnificence till he felt himself growing giddy.
He stood on the brink of an abyss; and far beneath him flowed a stream through the blooming land; and over the waters moved proud vessels with their white sails and their waving flags.
All at once Peterlin saw a bird in the air. "Oh, dear! what if it should be a vulture?" thought he, trembling in every joint. "Oh, if I were only once more under my good old mother's wing! Oh! how I wish I had minded her warning!"
Off ran Peterlin back through the grass, back over the ploughed field, along by the edge of the wood; and then he heard a noise,—"cluck, cluck, cluck!" "Oh, joy, joy! That is my mother's voice!" thought he.
Yes, it was Biddy's voice, calling her runaway child. She approached him at a quick run; and it was not till he was safe under her wing that the quick beat of his heart slackened, and he felt once more at peace. Peterlin then and there resolved that he would wait till he was older before he started again on his travels.
From the German.
ON THE GATE
Where are you going? Have you got
Any thing good to eat
In that big basket? Let me peek!
Do you live on our street?
I'm six years old to-day; aren't you
Surprised? I wish you'd wait!
I'll tell you something, if you will,
And swing you on our gate.
This is my grandpa's house. I wish
He was your grandpa too!
I guess your mother'll let you come
And stay with me; don't you?
I'm making patchwork: it's to keep
The heathens warm. I hate
To keep in-doors. I wish I could
Swing all day on the gate!
Have you a doll? Yes? Mine got drowned:
Joe threw her down the well;
But pretty soon I'm going to buy
A new one; don't you tell!
My bank is almost full; I'll let
You shake it, if you'll wait:
Pa said he'd fill it if I would
Stop swinging on the gate.
We've got some kittens in the barn;
They're way up in the loft:
I like to hold them in my lap,
They feel so warm and soft.
Joe broke my little spade one day,
Digging the earth for bait:
Does your big brother call you names,
And pull you off the gate?
I go to school. I'm at the head:
You ought to hear me spell!
I and another girl are in
The class. There goes the bell!
I'll have to run, and get my books.
Oh, dear! I shall be late:
Another scolding I shall get
For swinging on the gate!
H. B.
GEORGE'S BOAT
George had a boat on a little stream that ran not far from the house. The boat was flat; and George pushed it along with a pole. It did not go fast.
One day Mabel asked her brother if she might go in the boat with him. George said, "Oh, yes!" So he pushed up to the shore, and helped Mabel in. Then he pushed off.
How far did they go in the boat? As far as the bridge, by the great elm-tree. George thought that was far enough.
Rover saw George and Mabel in the boat, and he wanted to go too. He ran down to the shore, and barked. But George said there would not be room for him.
There was a place where the grapevines hung over the water. George pushed the boat to the place; and he and Mabel picked some grapes.
By and by the sun was almost down. George and Mabel thought it was time to go home. Their mother had told them to come home before dark.
W. O. C.