The Brownies: Their Book

Or sighs to break his scribbled slate
And spring at once to man's estate.
How oft from shades of yonder grove
I've viewed at eve the shouting drove
As from the door they crowding broke,
Like oxen from beneath the yoke."

Another said: "The teacher's chair,
The ruler, pen, and birch are there,
The blackboard hangs against the wall;
The slate's at hand, the books and all.
We might go in to read and write
And master sums like scholars bright."

"I'll play," cried one, "the teacher's part;
I know some lessons quite by heart,
And every section of the land
To me is plain as open hand."
"With all respect, my friend, to you,"
Another said, "that would not do.
You're hardly fitted, sir, to rule;

Your place should be the dunce's stool.
You're not with great endowments blessed;

I'll be the teacher, if you please;
I know the rivers, lakes, and seas,
And, like a banker's clerk, can throw
The figures nimbly in a row.
I have the patience, love, and grace,
So requisite in such a case."

Now some bent o'er a slate or book,
And some at blackboards station took.
They clustered 'round the globe with zeal,
And kept it turning like a wheel.

And buried up in Polar snows
You find the hardy Eskimos;
While here and there some scorching spots
Are set apart for Hottentots.
And see the rivers small and great,
That drain a province or a state;
The name and shape of every nation;
Their faith, extent, and population:
And whether governed by a King,
A President, or council ring."

The teacher had enough to do,
To act his part to nature true:
He lectured well the infant squad,
He rapped the desk and shook the rod,
And stood the dunce upon the stool,
A laughing-stock to all the school—
But frequent changes please the crowd,

They noticed not the hours depart,
Until the sun commenced to dart
A sheaf of lances, long and bright,
Above the distant mountain height;
Then from the schoolroom, in a heap,
They jumped and tumbled, twenty deep,
In eager haste to disappear
In deepest shades of forests near.

When next the children gathered there,
With wondering faces fresh and fair,
It took an hour of morning prime,
According to the teacher's time,
To get the books in place once more,
And order to the room restore.
So great had been the haste to hide,
The windows were left open wide;
And scholars knew, without a doubt,
That Brownies had been thereabout.

And while the rogues went prying 'round,
The farmer's mare at rest they found;
And peeping through the stable-door,
They saw the harness that she wore.
The sight was tempting to the eye,
For there the cart was standing nigh.

Went bouncing in beside the bay.
In this same cart, old Farmer Gill
Takes all his corn and wheat to mill;
It must be strong, though rude and rough;
It runs on wheels, and that's enough."

Now, Brownies seldom idle stand
When there's a chance for fun at hand.

While some prepared a rein or trace,
Another slid the bit in place;
More buckled bands with all their might,
Or drew the harness close and tight.

When every strap a buckle found,
And every part was safe and sound,
Then 'round the cart the Brownies flew,—
The hardest task was yet to do.
It often puzzles bearded men,
Though o'er and o'er performed again.

Some held the shafts to steer them straight,
More did their best to balance weight,
While others showed both strength and art
In backing Mag into the cart.
At length the heavy job was done,
And horse and cart moved off as one.

Now down the road the gentle steed
Was forced to trot at greatest speed.

For use of road demanding pay,
Nor were they startled by the cry
Of robbers shouting, "Stand or die!"
Across the bridge and up the hill
And through the woods to Warren's mill,—
A lengthy ride, ten miles at least,—
Without a rest they drove the beast,
And then were loath enough to rein
Old Mag around for home again.

Nor was the speed, returning, slow;
The mare was more inclined to go,

Because the feed of oats and hay
Unfinished in her manger lay.
So through the yard she wheeled her load
As briskly as she took the road.
No time remained to then undo
The many straps which tight they drew.
For in the east the reddening sky
Gave warning that the sun was nigh.

When Farmer Gill that morning fair
Came out and viewed his jaded mare,
I may not here in verse repeat
His exclamations all complete.
He gnashed his teeth, and glared around,
And struck his fists, and stamped the ground,
And chased the dog across the farm,
Because it failed to give alarm.
"I'd give a stack of hay," he cried,
"To catch the rogue who stole the ride!"
But still awry suspicion flew,—
Who stole the ride he never knew.

Said one: "That pleasure might be ours—
We have the feet and motive powers;
No mortal need us Brownies teach,
If skates were but within our reach."

A place to muster near the town,
And meeting hour they noted down;
And then retiring for the night,
They soon were lost to sound and sight.

When evening next her visit paid
To fold the earth in robes of shade,

The skates that would their fun insure.
As mice can get to cake and cheese
Without a key whene'er they please,
So, cunning Brownies can proceed
And help themselves to what they need.

For bolts and bars they little care
If but a nail is wanting there!
Or, failing this, with ease descend
Like Santa Claus and gain their end
As children to the windows fly
At news of Jumbo passing by,
So rushed the eager band away
To fields of ice without delay.

In bringing journeys to an end.
They had their slips and sudden spreads,
Where heels flew higher than their heads,
As people do, however nice,
When venturing first upon the ice.
But soon they learned to curve and wheel
And cut fine scrolls with scoring steel,
To race in clusters to and fro,
To jump and turn and backward go,

The pleasure would be fine indeed
If we could thus in line proceed."

"Last night," another answer made,
"As by the river's bank I strayed,
Where here and there a building stands,
And town and country-side join hands,
Before me stood a massive wall
With engine-rooms and chimneys tall.

"To scale the place a way I found,
And, creeping in, looked all around;
There bicycles of every grade
Are manufactured for the trade;
Some made for baby hands to guide,
And some for older folk to ride.

"Though built to keep intruders out,
With shutters thick and casings stout,
I noticed twenty ways or more,
By roof, by window, wall and door,
Where we, by exercising skill,
May travel in and out at will."

Their band to venture daring deeds,
The miser's gold, the merchant's ware
To them is open as the air.

The rogues ere long began to show
As many colors as the bow;
For paint and varnish lately spread
Besmeared them all from foot to head.
Some turned to jay-birds in a minute,
And some as quick might shame the linnet;
While more with crimson-tinted breast
Seemed fitted for the robin's nest.

But whether red or green or blue,
The work on hand was hurried through;
They took the wheels from blacksmith fires,
Though wanting bolts and even tires,
And rigged the parts with skill and speed
To answer well their pressing need.
And soon, enough were made complete
To give the greater part a seat,
And let the rest through cunning find
Some way of hanging on behind.
And then no spurt along the road,
Or 'round the yard their courage showed,
But twenty times a measured mile
They whirled away in single file,
Or bunched together in a crowd
If width of road or skill allowed.
At times, while rolling down the grade,
Collisions some confusion made,
For every member of the band,
At steering wished to try his hand;
Though some, perhaps, were not designed
For labor of that special kind.

But Brownies are the folk to bear
Misfortunes with unruffled air;
So on through rough and smooth they spun
Until the turning-point was won.
Then back they wheeled with every spoke,
An hour before the thrush awoke.

And soon a building, quaint and small,
Appeared to draw the gaze of all.
Said one: "This place contains, no doubt,
The tools of workmen hereabout."
Another said: "You're quite astray,
The workmen's tools are miles away;
Within this building may be found
The fixtures for the tennis ground.
A meadow near, both long and wide,
For half the year is set aside,
And marked with many a square and court,
For those who love the royal sport.
On afternoons assembled there,
The active men and maidens fair
Keep up the game until the day
Has faded into evening gray."
"In other lands than those we tread,
I played the game," another said,
"And proved my skill and muscle stout,
As 'server' and as 'striker-out.'
The lock that hangs before us there
Bears witness to the keeper's care,
And tramps or burglars might go by,
If such a sign should meet the eye.

Ere long, the path that lay between
The building and the meadow green,
Was crowded with the bustling throng,
All bearing implements along;
Some lugging stakes or racket sets,
And others buried up in nets.
To set the posts and mark the ground
The proper size and shape around,
With service-line and line of base,
And courts, both left and right, in place,
Was work that caused but slight delay;
And soon the sport was under way.
And then a strange and stirring scene
Was pictured out upon the green.

Some watched the game and noted well
Where this or that one would excel.

But when "deuce set!" the scorer cried,
Applause would ring on every side.
At times so hot the contest grew,
Established laws aside they threw,
And in the game where four should stand,
At least a dozen took a hand.
Some tangled in the netting lay
And some from base-lines strayed away.
Some hit the ball when out of place
Or scrambled through unlawful space.
But still no game was forced to halt
Because of this or greater fault.

And there they sported on the lawn
Until the ruddy streaks of dawn
Gave warning that the day was near,
And Brownies all must disappear.

Are much in need of light and air;
The turnip withers where it lies,
The beet and carrot want to rise.
'Oh, pull us up!' they seem to cry
To every one that passes by;
'The frost will finish our repose,
The grubs are working at our toes;

Who've such a shameful waste allowed
So wrapped in self some men can be,
Beyond their purse they seldom see;
'T is left for us to play the friend
And here a helping hand extend.
But as the wakeful chanticleer
Is crowing in the stable near,
Too little of the present night
Is left to set the matter right.

"To-morrow eve, at that dark hour
When birds grow still in leafy bower
And bats forsake the ruined pile
To exercise their wings awhile,
In yonder shady grove we'll meet,
With all our active force complete,
Prepared to give this farmer aid
With basket, barrel, hook, and spade.

We'll dose the dog to keep him still.
For barking dogs, however kind,
Can oft disturb a Brownie's mind."
—When next the bat of evening flew,
And drowsy things of day withdrew,
When beetles droned across the lea,
And turkeys sought the safest tree
To form aloft a social row
And criticise the fox below,—
Then cunning Brownies might be seen
Advancing from the forest green;
Now jumping fences, as they ran,
Now crawling through (a safer plan);
Now keeping to the roads awhile,
Now "cutting corners," country style;
Some bearing hoes, and baskets more,
Some pushing barrows on before,
While others, swinging sickles bright,
Seemed eager for the grain in sight.
But in advance of all the throng
Three daring Brownies moved along,
Whose duty was to venture close
And give the barking dog his dose.

While workers every effort strain
The rolling pumpkins to regain;

And long before the stars withdrew,
The crop was safe, the work was through.
In shocks the corn, secure and good,
Now like a Sioux encampment stood;
The wheat was safely stowed away;
In bins the "Early Roses" lay,

While carrots, turnips, beets, and all
Received attention, great and small.
When morning dawned, no sight or sound
Of friendly Brownies could be found;
And when at last old Towser broke
The spell, and from his slumber woke,
He rushed around, believing still
Some mischief lay behind the pill.
But though the field looked bare and strange,
His mind could hardly grasp the change.
And when the farmer learned at morn
That safe from harm were wheat and corn,
That all his barley, oats, and rye
Were in the barn, secure and dry,
That carrots, beets, and turnips round
Were safely taken from the ground,
The honest farmer thought, of course,

Their mystic art, as may be found
On pages now in volumes bound,
Was quite enough to bear them in
Through walls of wood and roofs of tin.

Thus skill and strength and wind they tried
By means they found on every side.

A few remained upon the spot
To build a fire beneath the pot;
Some gathered bark from trunks of trees,
While others, on their hands and knees,
Around the embers puffed and blew
Until the sparks to blazes grew;
And scarcely was the kindling burned
Before the absent ones returned.
All loaded down they came, in groups,
In couples, singly, and in troops.

Upon their shoulders, heads, and backs
They bore along the floury sacks;
With plums and currants others came,
Each bag and basket filled the same;

From some one's line had hauled a sheet,
The monstrous pudding to infold
While in the boiling pot it rolled.
The rogues were flour from head to feet
Before the mixture was complete.
Like snow-birds in a drift of snow
They worked and elbowed in the dough,
Till every particle they brought
Was in the mass before them wrought.
And soon the sheet around the pile

Until, in spite of height and heat,
They had performed the trying feat.

No traces of their sumptuous feast

Whate'er they take they can restore
In greater plenty than before.

And even Brownies were not free
From evil snag or stubborn tree
That split toboggans like a quill,
And scattered riders down the hill.

With pitch and toss and plunge they flew,—
Some skimmed the drifts, some tunneled through;
Then out across the frozen plain
At dizzy speed they shot amain,

While rambling through the forest shade,
A sudden halt some Brownies made;
For spread about on bush and ground
An old balloon at rest they found,
That while upon some flying trip
Had given aeronauts the slip.
And, falling here in foliage green,
Through all the summer lay unseen.
The Brownies gathered fast to stare
Upon the monster lying there,

The bag with gas must be supplied,
That will insure a lengthy ride;

As best we can, this burden there;
And when inflated, fit to rise,
We'll take a sail around the skies."

But Brownies, persevering still,
Will keep their course through every ill,
And in the main, as history shows,
Succeed in aught they do propose.

So, though it cost them rather dear,
In scratches there and tumbles here,
They worked until the wondrous feat
Of transportation was complete.
Then while some busy fingers played
Around the rents that branches made,
An extra coil of rope was tied
In long festoons around the side,
That all the party, young and old,
Might find a trusty seat or hold.
And while they worked, they chatted free
About the wonders they would see.
Said one: "As smoothly as a kite,
We'll rise above the clouds to-night,
And may the question settle soon,
About the surface of the moon."
Now all was ready for the gas,

But strong it grew and stronger still,
As every wrinkle seemed to fill;
And when at last it bounded clear,
And started on its wild career,
A rooted stump and garden gate,
It carried off as special freight.

As though content to there abide
And take the chances of the ride.
On passing through a heavy cloud,
One thus addressed the moistened crowd:
"Although the earth, from which we rise,
Now many miles below us lies,
To sharpest eye, strain as it may,
The moon looks just as far away."
"The earth is good enough for me!"

They little thought of at the start.
At length, in spite of sweeping blast,
Some friendly branches held them fast:
And then, descending, safe and sound,
The daring Brownies reached the ground
But in the tree-top on the hill
The old balloon is hanging still,
And saves the farmers on the plain
From placing scare-crows in their grain.

By men of keenest judgment ripe,
As those of humbler, home-made type.
And soon away sailed all the fleet
With every Brownie in his seat.

The start was promising and fine;
With little skill and less design
They steered along as suited best,
And let the current do the rest.

All nature seemed to be aware
That something strange was stirring there.
The owl to-whooed, the raven croaked;
The mink and rat with caution poked

So every river, great and small,
Must have its rapids and its fall;
And those who on its surface glide
O'er rough as well as smooth must ride.
The stream whereon had started out
The Brownie band in gleeful rout

Ere long each watchful Brownie there,
Of all these facts grew well aware;
Some losing faith, as people will,
In their companions' care or skill,
Would seize the paddle for a time,

Canoes throughout the trying race
Kept right side up in every case.
But sport that traveled hand in hand
With horrors hardly pleased the band,
As pallid cheek and popping eye
On every side could testify;
And all agreed that wisdom lay
In steering home without delay.

So landing quick, the boats they tied
To roots or trees as chance supplied,
And plunging in the woods profound,
They soon were lost to sight and sound.

To Brownies, as to children dear,
The monkey seemed a creature queer;
They watched its skill to climb and cling,
By either toe or tail to swing;
Perhaps they got some hints that might
Come well in hand some future night,
When climbing up a wall or tree,
Or chimney, as the case might be.

"We'll leave that snake performance out!
I grant you all the power you claim
To charm, to tie, to twist and tame;
But let me still suggest you try
Your art when no one else is nigh.
Of all the beasts that creep or crawl
From Rupert's Land to China's wall,
In torrid, mild, or frigid zone,
The snake is best to let alone."

So, harmlessly as silken bands
The snakes were twisted in their hands.
Some hauled them freely 'round the place;
Some braided others in a trace;
And every knot to sailors known,
Was quickly tied, and quickly shown.

Thus, 'round from cage to cage they went,
For some to smile, and some comment

Of extra length, and then deny
To something else a fair supply.
—But when the bear and tiger growled,
And wolf and lynx in chorus howled,
And starting from its broken sleep,
The lion rose with sudden leap,
And, bounding 'round the rocking cage,
With lifted mane, roared loud with rage,
And thrust its paws between the bars,
Until it seemed to shake the stars,—

A panic seized the Brownies all,
And out they scampered from the hall,
As if they feared incautious men
Had built too frail a prison pen.

One night the circus was in town
With tumbling men and painted clown,
And Brownies came from forest deep
Around the tent to climb and creep,
And through the canvas, as they might
Of inner movements gain a sight.

To see what offered most delight.
Cried one, "If I can only find
The whip, I'll have a happy mind;

With such remarks away they went
At this or that around the tent;
The wire that not an hour before
The Japanese had traveled o'er
From end to end with careful stride,
Was hunted up and quickly tried.
Not one alone upon it stepped,
But up by twos and threes they crept,
Until the strand appeared to bear
No less than half the Brownies there.
Some showed an easy, graceful pose,
But some put little faith in toes,
And thought that fingers, after all,
Are best if one begins to fall.

When weary of a sport they grew,
Away to other tricks they flew.
They rode upon the rolling ball
Without regard to slip or fall;
Both up and down the steep incline
They kept their place, with balance fine,
Until it bounded from the road,
And whirled away without its load.
They galloped 'round the dusty ring
Without a saddle, strap or string,
And jumped through hoops both large and small,
And over banners, poles and all.

In time the elephant was found
And held as though in fetters bound;
Their mystic power controlled the beast,—
He seemed afraid to move the least,
But filled with wonder, limp and lax,
He stood and trembled in his tracks,
While all the band from first to last
Across his back in order passed.

So thus they saw the moments fly
Till dawn began to paint the sky;
And then by every flap and tear
They made their way to open air,
And off through lanes and alleys passed
To reach their hiding-place at last.

In case of mishap on the way,
Or loss, or breakage during play.
The night was clear, the road was good,
And soon within the field they stood.

The umpires noting all with care
To tell if hits were foul or fair,

The "strikes" and "balls" to plainly shout,
And say if men were "safe" or "out,"
And give decision just and wise
When knotty questions would arise.

While others, freed from games on hand,
In merry groups aside would stand,
And pitch and catch with rarest skill
To keep themselves in practice still.

Now "double plays" and balls well curved
And "base hits" often were observed,
While "errors" were but seldom seen
Through all the games upon that green.
Before the flush of morn arose
To bring their contests to a close,
The balls and bats in every case
Were carried back and put in place;
And when the Brownies left the store,
All was in order as before.

The bees heard o'er the clamor high;
And held their bearing for this pine
As straight as runs the county line.
With taxes here, and failures there,
The man can ill such losses bear.
In view of this, our duty's clear:
To-morrow night we'll muster here,
And when we give this tree a fall,
In proper shape we'll hive them all,
And take the queen and working throng
And lazy drones where they belong."

Next evening, at the time they'd set,
Around the pine the Brownies met
With tools collected, as they sped
From mill and shop and farmer's shed;
While some, to all their wants alive,
With ready hands procured a hive.

Ere work began, said one: "I fear
But little sport awaits us here.
Be sure a trying task we'll find;
The bee is fuss and fire combined.

But trouble, as one may divine,
Occurred at points along the line.

'Twas bad enough on level ground,
Where, now and then, one exit found;

But when the Brownies lacked a road,
Or climbed the fences with their load,—
Then numbers of the prisoners there
Came trooping out to take the air,
And managed straight enough to fly
To keep excitement running high.

With branches broken off to suit,
And grass uplifted by the root,
In vain some daring Brownies tried
To brush the buzzing plagues aside.
Said one, whose features proved to all
That bees had paid his face a call:
"I'd rather dare the raging main
Than meddle with such things again."
"The noble voice," another cried,
"Of duty still must rule and guide,—
Or in the ditch the sun would see
The tumbled hive for all of me."

And when at last the fence they found
That girt the farmer's orchard 'round,
And laid the hive upon the stand,
There hardly was, in all the band,
A single Brownie who was free
From some reminders of the bee.

But thoughts of what a great surprise
Ere long would light the farmer's eyes
Soon drove away from every brain
The slightest thought of toil or pain.

And learn the nature of the sport
Of which we hear such good report."

To reach the bridge that led to town,
With eager steps they hastened down;
But recent rains had caused a rise—
The stream was now a fearful size;
The bridge was nearly swept away,
Submerged in parts, and wet with spray.

Some walked the dripping logs with ease,
While others crept on hands and knees
With movements rather safe than fast,
And inch by inch the danger passed.

Now, guided by the rumbling sound
That told where skaters circled 'round,
Through dimly lighted streets they flew,
And close about the building drew.

Without delay the active band,
By spouts and other means at hand,
Of skill and daring furnished proof
And gained possession of the roof;
Then through the skylight viewed the show
Presented by the crowds below.

Said one: "While I survey that floor
I'm filled with longing more and more,

"My plans," the leader answer made,
"Are in my mind already laid.
Within an hour the folk below
Will quit their sport and homeward go;

The Brownies hurried down to find
The roller skates they'd left behind.

Then such a scene was there as few
May ever have a chance to view.

While some who strove their friends to aid,
Upon the floor themselves were laid,
To spread confusion there awhile,
As large and larger grew the pile.

Some rose with fingers out of joint,
Or black and blue at every point;

But stars at length began to wane,
And dawn came creeping through the pane;
And much against the will of all,
The rogues were forced to leave the hall.

When one, arising in his place
With sparkling eyes and beaming face
Soon won attention from the rest,
And thus the listening throng addressed:
"For years and years, through heat and cold,
Our home has been this forest old;
The saplings which we used to bend
Now like a schooner's masts ascend.

If pleasure in the sea is found
Not offered by the streams around,
The Brownie band at once should haste

'T was hard to say, of all the lot,
Who foremost reached the famous spot.

Another spoke, "For such demands,
The building large that yonder stands,

As one can see on passing by,
Is full of garments clean and dry.
There every fashion, loose or tight,
We may secure with labor light."

Though Brownies never carry keys,
They find an entrance where they please;
And never do they chuckle more
Than when some miser bars his door;
For well they know that, spite of locks,

And made the best of what they found,
However strange it hung around.

Then, when a boat was manned with care
To watch for daring swimmers there,—

As step by step they ventured out;
While others were content to stay
In shallow surf, to duck and play
Along the lines that people laid
To give the weak and timid aid.

For sad and painful is the fate
Of those who roam abroad too late;
And well may Brownies bear in mind
The hills and vales they leave behind,
When far from native haunts they run,
As oft they do, in quest of fun.

Another said: "The wool, I know,
Went through the mill a month ago.
I saw them when they bore the sack
Tip yonder hill, a wondrous pack
That caught the branches overhead,
And round their heels the gravel spread.
Her spinning-wheel is lying there
In fragments quite beyond repair.
A passing goat, with manners bold,
Mistook it for a rival old,

Across the tail-race of a mill,
And through a churchyard on the hill.

They found the wheel, with head and feet,
And band and fixtures, all complete;

And soon beneath the trying load
Were struggling on the homeward road.

They had some trouble, toil, and care,
Some hoisting here, and hauling there;

At times, the wheel upon a fence
Defied them all to drag it thence,
As though determined to remain
And serve the farmer, guarding grain.
But patient head and willing hand
Can wonders work in every land;
And cunning Brownies never yield,
But aye as victors leave the field.

Before the door they set the wheel,
And near at hand the winding reel,
That some might wind while others spun,
And thus the task be quickly done.

And ere the night began to fade,
The borrowed wheel at home was laid;
And none the worse for rack or wear,
Except a blemish here and there,
A spindle bent, a broken band,—
'T was ready for the owner's hand.

With axes, hammers, saws, and rules,
Dividers, squares, and boring tools,
The active Brownies scattered 'round,
And every one his labor found.

It mattered little whence it came,
Or who a loss of stock might claim;
Supply kept even with demand,
Convenient to the rigger's hand.

'T was marvelous to see how fast
The vessel was together cast;

And when it rode upon the sea,
The Brownies thronged the deck with glee,
And veering 'round in proper style,
They bore away for nearest isle.

For now the ship to ruin flew,
As though it felt its work was through,
And soon it stranded, "pitch and toss,"
Upon the rocks, a total loss.
The masts and spars went by the board—
The hull was shivered like a gourd!
But yet, on broken plank and rail,
On splintered spars and bits of sail
That strewed for miles the rugged strand,
The Brownies safely reached the land.

Now, Brownies lack the power, 'tis said,
Of making twice what once they've made;
So all their efforts were in vain
To build and launch the ship again;—
And on that island, roaming 'round,
That Brownie band for years was found.

Once while the Brownies lay at ease
About the roots of rugged trees,
And listened to the dreary moan
Of tides around their island lone
Said one: "My friends, unhappy here,
We spend our days from year to year
We're cornered in, and hardly boast
A run of twenty leagues at most
You all remember well, I ween,
The night we reached this island green,
When flocks of fowl around us wailed,
And followed till their pinions failed.
And still our ship at every wave
To sharks a creaking promise gave,
Then spilled us out in breakers white,
To gain the land as best we might.
Since then how oft we've tried in vain
To reach our native haunts again,
Where roaming freely, unconfined,
Would better suit our roving mind.

"To-night, while wandering by the sea
A novel scheme occurred to me,
As I beheld in groups and rows
The weary fowl in deep repose.
They sat as motionless as though
The life had left them years ago.
The albatross and crane are there,
The loon, the gull, and gannet rare.
An easy task for us to creep
Around the fowl, while fast asleep.
And at a given signal spring
Aboard, before they spread a wing,
And trust to them to bear us o'er.
In safety to our native shore."

Another spoke: "I never yet
Have shunned a risk that others met,
But here uncommon dangers lie,
Suppose the fowl should seaward fly,
And never landing, course about,
And drop us, when their wings gave out?"

To shallow schemes that will not bring
A modest risk, let cowards cling!
The first replied. "A Brownie shows
The best where dangers thickest close.
But, hear me out: by sea and land,
Their habits well I understand.
When rising first they circle wide,
As though the strength of wings they tried,
Then steering straight across the bay,
To yonder coast a visit pay.
But granting they for once should be
Inclined to strike for open sea,
The breeze that now is rising fast,
Will freshen to a whistling blast,
And landward sweeping, stronger still,
Will drive the fowl against their will."

Some seized a neck and some a head,
And some a wing, and some a shred
Of tail, or aught that nearest lay,
To help them mount without delay.
Then rose wild flaps and piercing screams,
As sudden starting from their dreams
The wondering fowl in sore dismay
Brought wings and muscles into play.
Some felt the need of longer sleep,
And hardly had the strength to "cheep;"
While others seemed to find a store
Of screams they'd never found before
—But off like leaves or flakes of snow
Before the gale the Brownies go,
Away, away, through spray or cloud
As fancy led, or load allowed.
Some birds to poor advantage showed,
As, with an oddly balanced load,
Now right or left at random cast,

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 shores where land and water met.

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

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,

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,

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.

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.

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.

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

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 shirk:
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.

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,

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.

And thus, in spite of every ill,
The task was carried forward still.
Some were by nature well designed
For work of this laborious kind,
And never felt so truly great,
As when half crushed beneath a weight.
While wondering comrades stood aghast,
And thought each step must be the last.

Though at some sport or cunning plan
They far beyond their comrades ran.

Around the house some staid to pile
The gathered wood in proper style;
Which ever harder work they found
As high and higher rose the mound.

Above the window-sill it grew,
And next, the cornice hid from view;
And, ere the dawn had forced a stop,
The pile o'erlooked the chimney-top.

That morning, when the parson rose,
Against the pane he pressed his nose,
And tried the outer world to scan
To learn how signs of weather ran.

But, 'round the house, behind, before,
In front of window, shed, and door,
The wood was piled to such a height
But little sky was left in sight!

His hearers knew they had no claim
To such a blessing if it came,
But whispered: "We don't understand—
It must have been the Brownie Band."

When Independence Day was nigh,
And children laid their pennies by,
Arranging plans how every cent
Should celebrate the grand event,
The Brownies in their earnest way
Expressed themselves about the day.

Will celebrate with booming gun
Their liberties so dearly won!"

"A fitting time," another cried,
"For us, who many sports have tried,

"There, Roman candles are in store,
And bombs that like a cannon roar;
While 'round the room one may behold
Designs of every size and mold,—
The wheels that turn, when all ablaze,
And scatter sparks a thousand ways;
The eagle bird, with pinions spread;
The busts of statesmen ages dead;
And him who led his tattered band
Against invaders of the land

We'll take position, come what may,
And celebrate the Nation's Day."

That eve, when stars began to shine,
The eager band was formed in line,
And, acting on the plans well laid,
A journey to the town was made.

The Brownies never go astray,
However puzzling is the way;
With guides before and guards behind,
They cut through every turn and wind,
Until a halt was made at last
Before a building bolted fast.
But those who think they'd turn around
And leave because no keys are found
Should entertain the thought no more,
But study up the Brownie lore.

They rummaged boxes piled around
And helped themselves to what they found,
Some eager to secure the wheel
That would so many sparks reveal.
Some active members of the band
To bombs and crackers turned their hand,
While more those emblems sought to find
That call the Nation's birth to mind,
And bring from every side the shout
When all their meaning blazes out.

Ere long, upon the homeward road
They hastened with their novel load:
And when the bell in chapel tower
Gave notice of the midnight hour,
The ruddy flame, the turning wheel,
The showering sparks and deafening peal
Showed Brownies in the proper way
Gave welcome to the glorious day.

The lighted eagles, through the night,
Looked down like constellations bright;
The rockets, whizzing to and fro,
Lit up the slumbering town below;

But there, while darkness wrapped the hill,
The Brownies celebrated still;
For, pleasures such as this they found
But seldom in their roaming 'round;
And with reluctant feet they fled
When morning tinged the sky with red.

As shades of evening settled down,
The Brownies rambled through the town,
To pry at this, to pause at that;
By something else to hold a chat,
And in their free and easy vein
Express themselves in language plain.

There horses stood for boys to ride;
Here boats were waiting for the tide,

While ships of war, with every sail
Unfurled, were anchored to a nail;
There soldiers stood in warlike bands;
And naked dolls held out their hands,
As though to urge the passers-by
To take them from the public eye.
This way and that, the Brownies ran;
To try the toys they soon began.

The Jack-in-box, so quick and strong,
With staring eyes and whiskers long,
Now o'er and o'er was set and sprung
Until the scalp was from it flung

They learned the arts of war, as told
By printed books and veterans old;
With swords of tin and guns of wood,
They wheeled about, and marched or stood,

Till, yielding to the pleasing sound,
They danced with dolls a lively round.

There fish were working tail and fin
In seas confined by wood and tin;
The canvas shark and rubber whale
Seemed ill content in dish or pail,
And leaping all obstructions o'er
Performed their antics on the floor.

Some found at marbles greatest fun,
And still they played, and still they won,
Until they claimed as winners, all
The shop could furnish, large and small.

Was forced to bear so great a load
It seemed to founder on the road,
Then tumble feebly to the floor,
Never to lift a rocker more.

No building in the country wide
With more attractions was supplied.
No shop or store throughout the land
Could better suit the Brownie band.
For when some flimsy toy gave way

'Twas hardly missed in such a store,
With wonders fairly running o'er:
To something else about the place
The happy Brownie turned his face,
And only feared the sun would call
Before he'd had his sport with all.

Thus, through the shop in greatest glee,
They rattled 'round, the sights to see,
Till stars began to dwindle down,
And morning crept into the town.
And then, with all the speed they knew,
Away to forest shades they flew.