Des Moines courier. ([Ottumwa] Iowa) 1848-1854, 1850-07-26
Children.

DlCcS tuCH we love 10 near lllGIT
sweet voices ringing cheerily and clear
under the open sky. We lore those moi
sy games of which they are SO fond
the mirth that startles Echo from sleep:
And shews the native gladnecs Of their
hearts,.
Here they are, bareheaded, and some
of them barefooted, but health blooming
upon their cheeks, and rapture sparkling
in their eyes. Look at this little party
gamboling on the greenswald. Over
they go-heels over head What care
they for the hard knocks they get in fall
ing |! And how delighted are they-what
shout of merriment is set up-when
one of their number rolls into the ditch!
Happy children, tumble on!-gambol
whilst We may THE days are coming
when you must toll for the poor pittance
that buys your daily bread; when the
care of life will weigh heavily on your
hearts, noD SO bounding and so elatcd!
Enjoy the blissful present, then, as much
as you can-there is no time to be lost.
Over again!
See that young urchin, with red cheeks
and iiaxen cnrls, padding in the runnel
that BUSHES along under yon hedge side!
How he loves to feel the cool water
dance over his toes! How eagerly he
pounces upon the minnow that darts
from beneath the messy stone before
him, or comes fitting down the stream |!
He fogs the tall weed with his stick; and
delights in making a puddle of the crys-
tai brooklet.
Observe that pretty, black-eyed girl,
in the blue frock, with the toddlng
youngster by her side! She is making
garden in the dust, with twigs of trees,
flowers plucked from the hedge.row,
white pebbles, and bits of broken crock
cry picked up in the lane. And how
pleased is little Davie with the contri-
vance! Now he fetches a stone and
stops up the gap in the border-now
blade of grass, or an unmeaning straw,
sticking it'with profoundest judgemen in
the middle of the miniature acalk, or ex-
actly in the place where it should mol be.
With the spirit Of mischief, he now runs
over the labored work, and destroys
their little Eden, trampling under foot its
flowere.s and its bowers,
And laughs to see the ruin he has wrought
See, he is now astride the grazing
horse, supported by his sister. How he
kicks and jumps, and opens wide his
eyes. and fancies himself going to mar
ket! Now he is unsnpported-his sis
ter has withdrawn her arm. How grave,
how motionless! His tiny faculties
seem to be busily questioning the danger.
The horse lifts leg-Davie's courage
fails him-he makes comical wry face,
and begins to whimper--and Dayie
stretches out his little arms for help -
What a delightful poem is that Of Mary
Howitt's on little children! Here il is.
Reader! if thou, like ourself, arr fond
of the prattling and engaging creatures
Of which it speaks. thou wilt love i, and
take it 10 thy heart forever.
Sporting through the forest wide,
Playing by the water side,
Wandering DER the healthy fells,
Down within the woodland dells,
All among the mountains wild,
Dwelleth many little child
In the baron's hall Of pride,
By the poor mans dull fireside,
Mid the mighty and the mean,
Little children may be seen;
Like the flowers that spring up fair,
Bright and countless everywherei
In the far isles Of the main.
In the deserts lone domain,
In the savage mountain glen,
,Monu the trshoc If e,ua thu ,.no,,. sts