Part 105

Sometimes when I am tired of play My mother says to me, "Come, daughter, we will call to-day On Great-aunt Lucy Lee."

And soon, by mother's side, I skip Along the quiet street, Where tall old trees, on either side, Throw shadows at my feet.

The houses stand in solemn rows, And not a child is seen; The blinds are drawn, the doors are shut, The walks are span and clean.

Then when we come to number three, I stretch my hand up--so! And find the old brass knocker's ring; I rap, and in we go.

There Great-aunt Lucy, small and prim, Sits by the chimney-piece; Her knitting-needles clicking go, And never seem to cease.

Aunt Lucy's eyes are blue and kind, Her wrinkled face is fair; She hides with cap or snowy lace Her pretty silver hair.

Aunt Lucy's voice is sweet and low, Her smile is quick and bright; She wears a gown of lavender, And kerchief soft and white.

I fold my hands in front of me And sit quite still and staid, Till Great-aunt Lucy, smiling, says, "Come hither, little maid!"

There Great-aunt Lucy small and prim Sits by the chimney-piece Her knitting needles clicking go And never seem to cease]

And from her silken bag she takes A peppermint or two, And questions me about my play, My school, my dolls, the Zoo.

And then she rings for Hannah, who Comes hobbling stiffly in, With sugared cakes and jelly-tarts Upon a shining tin.

When I have eaten all I can, Aunt Lucy bids me go Into the garden, where all kinds Of lovely flowers grow.

Pale roses of a hundred leaves, Sweet-william, four-o'clocks, Pinks, daisies, bleeding-hearts and things All bordered 'round with box.

And there's an arbor, where the grapes Hang low enough to reach; A plum-tree just across the path, And by the wall a peach.

And oh! I think it very nice To come and visit here; The house, the garden and the folks All seem so very queer!

And though I am well satisfied A while to romp and play,-- A wee old lady, kind and dear, I want to be some day;

And so I hope that when I, too, Have grown to eighty-three, I'll be a lovely lady like My Great-aunt Lucy Lee.

Our Visitors

By Isabel Lyndall

When grandma comes to visit, She very often brings Her satchel full of cookies, And ginger cakes and things.

Grandpa carries in his grip For Dorothy and me, One of the newest toys that moves, When wound up with a key.

Aunt Sarah says there is no need To have so many toys! She seems to think that useful things Are best for girls and boys.

Uncle Jack we're glad to see Although he is a tease. He gives us each a quarter To spend just as we please!

BEAUTIFUL GRANDMAMMA

Grandmamma sits in her quaint arm-chair-- Never was lady more sweet and fair! Her gray locks ripple like silver shells, And her brow its own calm story tells Of a gentle life and a peaceful even, A trust in God and a hope in heaven!

Little girl Mary sits rocking away In her own low seat, like some winsome fay; Two dolly babies her kisses share, And another one lies by the side of her chair. Mary is fair as the morning dew-- Cheeks of roses and ribbons of blue!

"Say, grandmamma," says the pretty elf, "Tell me a story about yourself. When you were little, what did you play? Was you good or naughty, the whole long day? Was it hundreds and hundreds of years ago? And what makes your soft hair as white as snow?

"Did you have a mamma to hug and kiss? And a dolly like this, and this, and this? Did you have a pussy like my little Kate? Did you go to bed when the clock struck eight? Did you have long curls and beads like mine? And a new silk apron, with ribbons fine?"