Various
The Nursery, June 1873, Vol. XIII.
THE OLD BLIND MAN AND HIS GRANDDAUGHTER
Silver-white his locks are straying
As upon the bench he sits,
While his little grandchild, playing,
Round about him sings and flits.
Calmly there, and unrepining,
Waits he—he is old and blind;
But the sun is brightly shining,
And the soft spring airs are kind.
"Ah! if he could once, once only,
See the splendor of the vale!
He, so old and weak and lonely,
See the trees wave in the gale!"
Then his little daughter, pressing
Up against the old man's knee,
With her childish, soft caressing,
Filled his heart with boyish glee.
Through her eyes once more beholding
All the glories of the spring,
Now his youth once more unfolding,
Hope and joy and beauty bring.
From the German.
PAPA'S STORY
"Now, papa, for another army story," said little Eddie, as he climbed into papa's lap, and prepared himself to listen.
Papa closed his eyes, stroked his whiskers; and Eddie knew the story was coming. This is it,—
One day, when we were camping in Virginia, some of us got leave to go into the woods for chestnuts, which grew there in great abundance. We were busy picking up the nuts, when we heard a scrambling in the bushes. We thought it was a dog.
"Was it a dog?" asks Eddie.
"No, it was not a dog."
"Was it a cat?"
"No, it was not a cat."
"O papa! was it a bear?"
"No, it was not a bear."
"Do tell me what it was!"
"Well, let me go on with my story, and you shall hear."
It was a fox. How he did run when he saw us! We ran after him, and chased him into a pile of rails, in one corner of the camp.
You see, the soldiers had torn down all the fences, and piled them up for fire-wood. The fox ran right in among the rails; and, the more he tried to get out, the more he couldn't.
"A fox, a fox!" we shouted; hearing which, all the men, like so many boys, rushed up, and made themselves into a circle around the wood-pile, so that poor foxy was completely hemmed in.
Then a few of us went to work, and removed the rails one by one, until at last he was clear, and we could all see him. With a bound, he tried to get away; but the men kept their legs very close together, and he was a prisoner. We got one of the tent-ropes and tried to tie him.
Such a time as we had! One man got bitten; but after a while foxy was caught. Then what did the cunning little thing do but make believe he was dead! Foxes are very cunning: they can play dead at any time.
He lay on the ground quite still, while he was tied, and the rope was made fast to a tree. When we all stepped back, he tried again to get away. The rope held him fast; but he bit so nearly through it, that we feared we should lose him, after all.
So off rushed one of the boys, and borrowed a chain from one of the wagons at headquarters. With this Master Fox was made quite secure.
We tried to tame him; for, being away from all little children, we were glad of any thing to pet. But it was of no use; for, even when foxes are taken very young, they cannot be tamed. They do not attach themselves to men, as dogs and some other animals do. He would not play with us at all; but we enjoyed watching him, as we had not many amusements.
One day we had to go off on a march, and left our little fox tied to a tree. When we came back, he was gone. We never knew how he got away; but we were not very sorry, for he was not happy with us. It was much better for him to be in the woods with his own friends. If he was smart enough to stay there, he may be living now; but he must be a pretty old fox by this time.
Here papa stopped; and his little boy drew a long breath, as though very glad that the little fox got into the woods again.
Mary Myrtle.