. St. Nicholas [serial]. angedesk. How tender a nurse she made when, the motheraway nursing a sick father, her little Beth took scarletfever; and how she made peace with Lauries irate 668 ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE [May, grandfather, when both were angry and hurt, althoughshe, herself, was angry when Laurie played such arude trick on Meg. As for Beth, with her piano, her dolls, her dish-tub,and dusting,—gentle, shy, little Beth did every onegood by her patient duty-loving ways and manners,even to harum-scarum Jo. Meg overcame her vanity and walked unscathedthrough vanity fair, growing, when the mothe
. St. Nicholas [serial]. angedesk. How tender a nurse she made when, the motheraway nursing a sick father, her little Beth took scarletfever; and how she made peace with Lauries irate 668 ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE [May, grandfather, when both were angry and hurt, althoughshe, herself, was angry when Laurie played such arude trick on Meg. As for Beth, with her piano, her dolls, her dish-tub,and dusting,—gentle, shy, little Beth did every onegood by her patient duty-loving ways and manners,even to harum-scarum Jo. Meg overcame her vanity and walked unscathedthrough vanity fair, growing, when the mother wassuddenly called away, from girl to woman, striving tocare for the younger sisters and keep the home. The little artist Amy learned a hard lesson withAunt March, growing to think of others before herselfand curb her vanity. Louisa M. Alcott knew girls were not perfect, butwhat reward could be more than Mr. Marchs ob-servations on his return from the war, when he wasable to remark upon such improvement in his girls?. tin*** AT WORK. BY FRANK L. HAYES, JR., AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.) IN YE WYNTER TYME(An Acrostic in Archaic Spelling) BY ELEANOR E. CARROLL (AGE 14) (Silver Badge)In ye joyeuse wynter tyme,Neare ye fyre I lyke to blazes upwarde clymbe,Ever leaping: neer they ye blyzzards rage outsyde,Younge and olde together synge,Now aboute some ancyente bryde,Telling usse of her wedding ;Else, about a vallyante knyghteRoving rounde throughout the lande,Tyll he fynds some wronge to righte;Yea, he does onne every fly past, eache as a gueste,Every one lykes wynter beste ! SPRING BY ELIZABETH MACDONALD (AGE 10) Spring on the hillside,Ankle-deep in flowers, Her favorites flocking round her,Or hanging back in bowers. Resting in the valley Like a tired child from, play,Lying in the fern and moss, Breathing scents of May. Spring is in the woodlandMore beautiful than all, Budding blossoms round herOpening at her call. Birds singing oer her, Blue sk
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Keywords: ., bookauthordodgemar, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1873
