Over the river and through the wood
Trot fast, my dapple-gray!
Spring over the ground,

Like a hunting-hound!

For this is Thanksgiving-Day.

Over the river and through the wood,

And straight through the barn-yard gate.
We seem to go

Extremely slow,

It is so hard to wait!

Over the river and through the wood

Now grandmother's cap I spy!

Hurrah for the fun!

Is the pudding done?

Hurrah for the pumpkin-pie !

-L. Maria Child.

THE CLOCKING HEN.

"WILL you take a walk with me,
My little wife, to-day?
There's barley in the barley-field,
And hay-seed in the hay."

"Thank you," said the clocking hen;
"I've something else to do ;

I'm busy sitting on my eggs,

I cannot walk with you."

"Clock, clock, clock, clock," Said the clocking hen;

"My little chicks will soon be hatched, I'll think about it then."

The clocking hen sat on her nest,

She made it in the hay;

And warm and snug beneath her breast, A dozen white eggs lay.

Crack, crack, went all the eggs,

Out dropt the chickens small! "Clock," said the clocking hen, "Now I have you all."

A HUNTSMAN, bearing his gun afield,

Went whistling merrily;

When he heard the blackest of black crows
Call out from a withered tree :-

"You are going to kill the thievish birds,
And I would if I were you;
But you mustn't touch my family,
Whatever else you do!"

"I'm only going to kill the birds

That are eating up my crop;
And if your young ones do such things,
Be sure they'll have to stop."

"O," said the crow, "my children Are the best ones ever born; There is n't one among them all

Would steal a grain of corn."

"But how shall I know which ones they are?

Do they resemble you?"

"O no," said the crow, "they're the prettiest birds, And the whitest that ever flew !"

So off went the sportsman, whistling,
And off, too, went his gun;
And its startling echoes never ceased
Again till the day was done.

And the old crow sat untroubled,
Cawing away in her nook;

For she said, "He'll never kill my birds,
Since I told him how they look.

"Now there's the hawk, my neighbor,
She'll see what she will see, soon;
And that saucy, whistling blackbird
May have to change his tune !"

When, lo! she saw the hunter,

Taking his homeward track,

With a string of crows as long as his gun,
Hanging down his back.

Alack, alack!" said the mother,
"What in the world have you done?
You promised to spare my pretty birds,
And you've killed them every one."

"Your birds!" said the puzzled hunter;

66

'Why, I found them in my corn;

And besides, they are black and ugly
As any that ever were born!"

"Get out of my sight, you stupid !"
Said the angriest of crows;

"How good and fair the children are,

There's none but a parent knows!"

"Ah! I see, I see," said the hunter,
"But not as you do, quite ;

It takes a mother to be so blind

She can't tell black from white !"

- Phœbe Cary.

DAME DUCK'S FIRST LECTURE ON EDUCATION.

OLD Mother Duck has hatched a brood
Of ducklings small and callow;
Their little wings are short; their down
Is mottled gray and yellow.

Close by the margin of the brook

The old duck made her nest,

Of straw, and leaves, and withered grass,
And down from her own breast.

And there she sat for four long weeks,
In rainy days and fine,

Until the ducklings all came out

Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.

One peeped out from beneath her wing,
One scrambled on her back;

"That's very rude," said old Dame Duck;

"Get off! quack, quack, quack, quack!"