Caleb in the Country Part 18

"Then should not you like to stay here next winter? And then we can make one," said David.

"Perhaps I could make one in Boston," said Caleb.

"Ho!" said Dwight, with a tone of contempt, "_you_ couldn't make a snow-house."

"But there are enough other boys in Boston to help me," said Caleb.

"There is not any good place," said Mary Anna, in a mild and pleasant tone. "There is only a very small yard, and that is full of wood piles."

"I can make it on the common," said Caleb. "The common is large enough I can tell you."

Here Dwight suddenly called out in a tone of great eagerness and delight, to look off to a little bush near them, to which he pointed with his finger.

"See! see! there is a squirrel!--a large grey squirrel!"

"Where?" said Caleb, "where? I don't see him."

"Hus.h.!.+" said Mary Anna, in a low tone: "All keep perfectly still. I'll shew him to you, Caleb. There, creeping along the branch."

"I see him," said David. "Let us catch him, and put him in with Mungo."

"I'm afraid it is Mungo," said Mary Anna.

"Mungo!" said Dwight, with surprise.

"Yes," said Mary Anna, "it looks like him. I am afraid he has got out of some hole, and is going away. Sit still, and we will see what he will do."

"O, no," said Dwight, "I will go and catch him."

"No, by no means," said Mary Anna, holding Dwight back, "let us see what he will do."

It was Mungo. He had gnawed himself a hole, and escaped from his prison.

He did not, however, seem disposed to go away very fast. He came down from the bush, and crept along upon the ground towards the brook, and then finding that he could not get across very well, he ran about the gra.s.s a little while, and then went back by degrees to the tree. He climbed up to the great branch, playing a minute or two about the grating over the hole, and then ran along out to the end of the branch, the children watching him all the time, and walking slowly along up towards the tree.

"I'll go and get him some corn," said Mary Anna, "and see if he will not come down for it to his hole, when I call him. You stand here perfectly still, till I come back."

So she went in and got a nut instead of corn, and put it down by the hole, calling "Mungo!" "Mungo!" as usual. The squirrel came creeping down the branch, and Mary Anna left the nut upon the grating, and went away. He crept down cautiously, seized the nut, stuffed it into his cheek, and ran off to one of the topmost branches; and there standing upon his hind legs, and holding his nut in his forepaws, he began gnawing the sh.e.l.l, watching the children all the time.

The next morning, Mary Anna tore off the netting, and the squirrel lived in the tree a long while. Caleb, however, saw but little more of him at this time, for he went to Boston the next week with his father.

What befell him there may perhaps be described in another book, to be called "CALEB IN TOWN."

END OF CALEB IN THE COUNTRY.

POETRY.

Pa.s.sING AWAY.

Mothers! where are they?--where?

They are gone from this pa.s.sing scene, Gone with the dreams of joy that were, As if they ne'er had been.

Husbands! where are they?--where?

The visions of life are fled; But they live--beneath--above--in air, For spirits can ne'er be dead.

Children! where are they?--where?

Will the sun or stars reply?

Nor earth, nor sea, nor air, Will answer to the cry.

Return they not with the early morn?

Where are the lost ones? say-- Gone to a land whence none return, But _where_,--Oh, where are they?

Dear ones! where are they?--where?

They are gone from the village home; We ponder and gaze on the empty chair, And recall the voice's tone.

Loved ones! where are they?--where?

We stand by the vacant bed, On the spot where we breathed the prayer, When we raised the dying head.

The friends! where are they?--where?

Their spirits have left the clay; Are they gone to weep in black despair, Or to sing in eternal day?

Where are they? Oh tell us where!

That our aching hearts may rest; Do they breathe the rich man's prayer, Or are they among the blest?

Lost ones! where are they?--where?

We ask--but we ask in vain; The sound goes round on the waves of air, And echo says, "Where?" Again-- Where are they?--where?

WEEP NOT FOR ME.

Weep not, my child, weep not for _me_, Though heavy is the stroke, And thou must early learn indeed To bear affliction's yoke.

Yet weep not, for you all have heard, Oft from these lips, in health, How Death will often s.n.a.t.c.h away Mothers by mystic stealth.

How often, when within the home The sun of joy doth glow, Some deed of his insidious hand Will fill that home with woe.

But when thy mother far has soared To regions all divine, A livelier voice, my precious one, Shall speak to thee, than mine.

Weep not for me--all tears remove-- I die without a fear; My G.o.d, to whom you are a.s.signed, Your early prayers shall hear.

When twilight opes the dappled morn, And clothes the east in grey, When sunbeams deck the west at eve, Oh then, beloved one--PRAY.