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قراءة كتاب St. Nicholas Vol XIII. No. 8 June 1886 An Illustrated Magazine for Young Folks
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St. Nicholas Vol XIII. No. 8 June 1886 An Illustrated Magazine for Young Folks
A JUNE MORNING.
ST. NICHOLAS.
Vol. XIII. JUNE, 1886. No. 8.
[Copyright, 1886, by The Century Co.]
"ONCE-ON-A-TIME."
By Emily Huntington Miller.
Heigh-ho! What frolics we might see,
If it only had happened to you and me
To be born in some beautiful far-off clime,
In the country of Somewhere, once-on-a-time!
Why, once-on-a-time there were mountains of gold,
And cans full of jewels, and treasures untold;
There were birds just waiting to fly before
And show you the way to the magical door.
And, under a tree, there was sure to be
A queer little woman to give you the key;
And a tiny, dancing, good-natured elf,
To say, with his scepter: "Help yourself!"
For millions of dollars grew from a dime
In the country of Somewhere, once-on-a-time.
If we lived in the country of Somewhere, you
Could do whatever you chose to do.
Instead of a boy, with the garden to weed,
You might be a knight, with a sword and a steed.
Instead of a girl, with a towel to hem,
I might be a princess, with robe and gem;
With a gay little page, and a harper old,
Who knew all the stories that ever were told,—
Stories in prose, and stories in rhyme,
That happened somewhere, once-on-a-time.
In the country of Somewhere, no one looks
At maps and blackboards and grammar books;
For all your knowledge just grows and grows,
Like the song in a bird, or the sweet in a rose.
And if ever I chance, on a fortunate day,
To that wonderful region to find my way,
Why then, if the stories all are true,
As quick as I can, I'll come for you,
And we'll row away to its happy shores,
In a silver shallop with golden oars.
LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.
By Frances Hodgson Burnett.
Chapter VIII.
Lord Dorincourt had occasion to wear his grim smile many a time as the days passed by. Indeed, as his acquaintance with his grandson progressed, he wore the smile so often that there were moments when it almost lost its grimness. There is no denying that before Lord Fauntleroy had appeared on the scene, the old man had been growing very tired of his loneliness and his gout and his seventy years. After so long a life of excitement and amusement, it was not agreeable to sit alone even in the most splendid room, with one foot on a gout-stool, and with no other diversion than flying into a rage, and shouting at a frightened footman who hated the sight of him. The old Earl was too clever a man not to know perfectly well that his servants detested him, and that even if he had visitors, they did not come for love of him—though some found a sort of amusement in his sharp, sarcastic talk, which spared no one. So long as he had been strong and well, he had gone from one place to another, pretending to amuse himself, though he had not really enjoyed it; and when his health began to fail, he felt tired of everything and shut himself up at Dorincourt, with his gout and his newspapers and his books. But he could not read all the time, and he became more and more "bored," as he called it. He hated the long nights and days, and he grew more and more savage and irritable. And then Fauntleroy came; and when the Earl saw the lad, fortunately for the little fellow, the secret pride of the grandfather was gratified at the outset. If Cedric had been a less handsome little fellow the old man might have taken so strong a dislike to the boy that he would not have given himself the chance to see his grandson's finer qualities. But he chose to think that Cedric's beauty and fearless spirit were the results of the Dorincourt blood and a credit to the Dorincourt rank. And then when he heard the lad talk, and saw what a well bred little fellow he was, notwithstanding his boyish ignorance of all that his new position meant, the old Earl liked his grandson more, and actually began to find himself rather entertained. It had amused him to give into those childish hands the power to bestow a benefit on poor Higgins. My lord cared nothing for poor Higgins, but it pleased him a little to think that his grandson would be talked about by the country people and would begin to be popular with the tenantry, even in his childhood. Then it had gratified him to drive to church with Cedric and to see the excitement and interest caused by the arrival. He knew how the people would speak of the beauty of the little lad; of his fine, strong, straight little body; of his erect bearing, his handsome face, and his bright hair, and how they would say (as the Earl had heard one woman exclaim to another) that the boy was "every inch a lord." My lord of Dorincourt was an arrogant old man, proud of his name, proud of his rank, and therefore proud to show the world that at last the House of Dorincourt had an heir who was worthy of the position he was to fill.
The morning the new pony had been tried, the Earl had been so pleased that he had almost forgotten his gout. When the groom had brought out the pretty creature, which arched its brown, glossy neck and tossed its fine head in the sun, the Earl had sat at the open window of the library and had looked on while Fauntleroy took his first riding lesson. He wondered if the boy would show signs of timidity. It was not a very small pony, and he had often seen children lose courage in making their first essay at riding.
Fauntleroy mounted in great delight. He had never been on a pony before, and he was in the highest spirits. Wilkins, the groom, led the animal by the bridle up and down before the library window.
"He's a well plucked un, he is," Wilkins remarked in the stable afterward with many grins. "It weren't no trouble to put him up. An' a old un wouldn't ha' sat any straighter when he were up. He ses—ses he to me, 'Wilkins,' he ses, 'am I sitting up straight? They sit up straight at the circus,' ses he. An' I ses, 'As straight as a arrer, your lordship!'—an' he laughs, as pleased as could be, an' he ses, 'That's right,' he ses, 'you tell me if I don't sit up straight, Wilkins!'"
But sitting up straight and being led at a walk were not altogether and completely satisfactory. After a few minutes, Fauntleroy spoke to his grandfather—watching him from the window:
"Can't I go by myself?" he asked; "and can't I go faster? The boy on Fifth Avenue used to trot and canter!"
"Do you think you could trot and canter?" said the Earl.
"I should like to try," answered Fauntleroy.
His lordship made a sign to Wilkins, who at the signal brought up his own horse and mounted it and took Fauntleroy's pony by the leading-rein.
"Now," said the Earl, "let him trot."
The next few minutes were rather exciting