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XXVII. THE CHILDREN WHO WENT INTO THE WIDE

WORLD.

PART II.

1. In the mean time Paul and May had been missed at home, and called and sought for throughout the house; they were then sought in the town, but no one had seen them. Their mother wept, and searched till it grew dusk; but she could not find her loved ones.

2. Then the father came home from his fields, and they told him Paul and May could not be found. He shook his head and looked grave, and showed two nine-pins he had picked up on the road. "These may help us to find the track," he said. go to the place I found them in ;" and he went one way, and sent men to search an-other way.

"We will

3. But the night passed, and Paul and May were not found. Then the father and his wife called his hound, showed him the nine-pin, and set out on the road to-geth'er. It was just dawn; all was still and cool, and a soft breeze sighed through the trees.

4. The hound sprang on with his head to the ground, now on this side of the road, now on that, to find the scent of the children's foot-steps. They had reached the rye-field, when, all at once, the dog made a bound into the waving rye.

5. "They have gone into the rye," cried the father; while the mother, with joyful haste, tried to keep up with the dog. She called to the father that she had found the doll, and the children could not be far off.

6. The true, good hound went so fast through the thick rye, that they could not keep quite close up with him. He was out of sight, when they heard his glad bark, which told them he had found the lost ones.

7. Breath'less they came to the spot. There lay Paul and May, hand in hand, their cheeks like roses wet with dew. Their curl'y heads lay on a heap of green rye, and at their side was the nose' 'gay. The rays of the rising sun fell on the calm group.

8. The father and mother could not speak their joy and thanks. Paul woke first, and then May. She held out her hands to her mother, and laughed. "We have had such nice dreams!" she said; "and whenever we woke we could hear the quails, and look at our nosegay."

9. The father looked grave, and said, "You might have been lost, and died of cold or want of food. Your mother and I have been in grief all night. We have had no sleep."

10. Then Paul said, "O, dear father! I will go out no more in the wide world. I did not know we should be lost! I did not know the world was so large!"

XXVIII. -THE LITTLE GIRL'S ADDRESS TO THE RIVER.

(8, 15, 18, 19, 20, 26, 38.)

1. GENTLE river, gentle river!

Tell us whith'er do you glide,

Through the green and sun'ny meadows,
With your sweetly-murmuring tide?

2. Gentle river, gentle river,

Do you hear a word we say?
I am sure you ought to love us,
For we come here every day.

3. O! I pray you, wait a moʼment, And a mes'sage bear from me To a darling little cousin,

We should dearly love to see.

4. You will know her, if you see her, By her clear and laugh'ing eyes; For they sparkle like your waters 'Neath the bright blue summer skies.

5. O! do tell her, gentle river,

That we think of her each day;
That we have not ceased to miss her,
Ever since she went a-way.

6. Tell her, too, that mother wishes

She could hear her voice once more, See her eyes, as bright as sun'shine, Peep in at the parlor-door.

7. Say we will a token send her,

Which upon thy waves we'll fling; Flowers from out our little garden, Fra'grant with the breath of spring.

8. Gentle river, gentle river!

Though you stop not to re-ply,
Yet you seem to smile up-on us,
As you quick'ly pass us by.

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(1, 2, 6, 7, 8, 33, 38, 43, 124, 162, 299, 201, 313-15, 338.)

1. My name is Ellen; or rath'er Ellen is my first name; the rest of my name I shall not tell you, for I do not wish to have it put in print. I will tell you now a-bout my lamb.

2. I live in the State of Ver-mont. Some of our neighbors keep sheep; but my fath'er does not keep sheep: he is a doc'tor.

3. One day last March, when it was quite cold, and there was snow on the ground, my fath'er, who had been many miles to visit a poor patient, heard a moan'ing noise by the road-side, as he was driv'ing home.

4. He looked a-round, and at last spied a poor little lamb in the snow. He stopped his old horse (his horse's name is Jack), and got out of his chaise, and picked up the lamb.

5. The poor little thing had lost its moth'er, and was al-most dead with cold. My fath ́er took it in his lap, and put the buffa-lo skin a-bout it, and so drove home.

6. When he came in to the house, he said to me, "Ellen, there is a present for you in my chaise; run and get it." I ran, and what should I see but the poor little lamb!

7. Was I not glad? I took the poor little thing in my arms in'to the house, and fed it with some milk, and then made a lit'tle warm bed for it in the woodshed, and let it go to sleep.

8. In the morning it was quite well, and it could say "bah!" and run a-bout. It followed me in'to the parlor, and it was so clean and small, that I could take it on the so'fa.

9. It is now the month of May; the trees are in leaf, and the grass has grown. My lamb has grown, too. But I still feed him ev'er-y morn'ing with a pan of milk. You may see by the pict'ure how I do it.

10. My lamb's wool is getting to be quite thick. I have to keep him tethered to a stake; for, if I do not, he will get in'to my flower-bed. He can nib'ble the grass; he seems quite happy. He will follow me like a dog. I do not mean to have my lamb killed; but I shall have his wool sheared off next spring; for that will not hurt him.

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