Baltimore daily commercial. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1865-1867, 1866-04-07
The Minnows with Silver Tails.
A STORY ToLD TO a CHILD.
RY JEAN INGELOW

Ihere was CUCKOO CLOCK hanging in Iopl
| Turner's cottage. When it struck one, Toms
wife laid the baby IN the cradle and took
sauce pan off the fire, from which came a very
| sayory smell
Her two little children, who had been
playing in the open doorway, ran to the table,
and began softly to drum upon it with their
pewter spoons, looking earnestly at their
mother as she turned nice little piece of
pork into dish, and set greens and potatoes
around it. They fetched the salt; then thew
set chair for their father; brought their own
stools; and pulled their mother rocBing-chair
close to the table.
''Run to the door, Billy" said the mother,
land see if fathers coming" Billy ran to
the door; and, after the fashion of little
children, looked first the right way, and then
| the wrong way but no father was to be seen.
Presently the mother followed him, and
shaded her eyes with her hand, for the sun
was hot. eff father doesn't come soon," she
| observed, ''the apple-dumpling will be too
much DONE by deal"
''Ihere he is, i" cried the little boy, che is
coming round by the bridge. 0, father, make
haste, and have some apple-dumplingn
''Tom," said his wife, as he came near,
art tired to-day?'
'Uncommon tired said Tom, and he
threw himself on the bench in the shadow of
the thatch
Has anything gone wrong?' asked his
wife. ''What' the matter?"
'Matter?' repeated Tom, lis anything the
matter? The matter is this, mother that I'm
miserable, hardworked slave" and he
clapped his hands upon his knees, and muttered
in a deep voice, which frightened the children
ia miserable slave.'
BLESS us ~ said the wife, and could not
| make out what he meant.
"a miserable, ill-used slave" continued
Tom, ''and always have been"
always have been?' said his wife, ''why,
| father, | thought thou used to say, at the
| election time, that thou vast a free born
| Britoni
| "Women have no business with politics."
| said Tom, getting up rather sulkily. And
whether it was the force of habit, or the smell
of the dinner that made him do it, has not
| been ascertained, but it is certain he walked
| into the house, ate plenty of pork and greens,
| and then took a tolerabe share in demolishng
| the apple-dumpling.
When the children were gone out to play,
his wife said to him, ''Tom, hope thou and
| master haven't had hard words to day."
"Naster," said Tom, Eyes, a pretty master
he has been; and a pretty slave I've been.
| Don't talk to me of masters"
80, Tom, Tom, cried his wife, 'but he's
| been good master to you; fourteen shillings
| a week. regular wages-that' S not thing to
| make a sheer at; and think how warm the
| children are Tapped up O. winter nights, and
| you with as good shoes to your feet as ever
| keep him out Of the mud"
| "What of that" said Tom, ''isn't my labor
| worth the money? I'm not beholden to my
| employer, He gets as good from me as he
| sir-oo.i
every like, Tom There's not man for
| miles around that can match you at a graft
| and as to early peas-but if master cant do
without you, Pm sure you can't do without
him. Oh, dear, to think that you and he
should have had Words
''We've had no words,' said Tom, i'm
| patiently; ''but I'm sick Of being at another
| mans beck and call. It's Tom do this and
| Tom do that, and nothing but work, work,
work, work, from Monday morning till Satur-
| day night; and | was thinking, as l walked
| over to Squire Morton's to ask for the turnip
seed for master, l was thinking, Sally, that /
| am nothing but poor working man after all.
IN short, I'm slave, and my spirit won't
| stand 1t much longer
So saying, Tom flung himself out at the
cottage door, and his wife thought he was
| going back to his work as usual But she
| was mistaken he walked to the wood, and
| there, when he came to the border of little
/ tinkling stream, he sat down and began to
| brood over his grievances 1t was very hot
day,
''Now, I'll tell You what, said Tom to
| himself its great deal pleasanter sitting
| here in the shade than broiling over celery
| trenches; and then thinning of wall fruit with
/ a baking sun at ones back, and hot wall
| before ones eyes. But I'm miserable slave.
| | must either work or see 'em starve; u very
| hard lot it is to be working man. But it is
| not only the work that | complain of, but
| being obliged to work just as he pleases. It's
| enough to spoil any mans temper to be told to
| dig up those asparagus beds just when they
were getting to be the very pride Of the parish.
| And what for? Why, to make room for
| Madame's new gravel walk, that she may not
| wet her feet going over the grass. Now, l
ask you," continued Tom, still speaking to
| himself, whether that isn't enough to spoil
| any mans temper?"
"Ahem.' said voice close to him.
Tom started, and to his great surprise saw q
| small man, about the size Of his own baby,
| sitting composedly at his elbow. He was
| dressed in green-green hat, green coat, and
| green shoes. He had very bright black eyes,
| and they twinkled very much as he looked at
| Tom and smiled.
Servant, sir!'' said Tom edging little
| further off.
miserable slave said the man, "art thou
| so far lost to the noble sense of freedom that
| thy very salutatlon acknowledges stranger as
| Thy master?'
f'Who are your" said Tom, land how dare
| you call me slave?"
| Tom" said the small man, with knowing
look, ''don't speak roughly-keep your rough
words for your wife, my man, she is bound to
bear them-what else is she for, in fact?"
'I'll thank you to let my affairs alone
interrupted Tom shortly.
Tom, I'm your friend can help you out
| Of difficulty. | admire your spirit. Would 1
lemean myself to work for a master, and
| attend to all his whims p
| Concluded in next
| .
CRIES OF ANIMALS The voices of animals have &
timily character not to be mistaken. All the CANT
fe bark and howl; the fox. the wolf, the dog have
ne same kind of utterance, though on somewhat
.iferent pitch. All the bears grow from the white
Dear of the Artc SHOWS to the small bear OF the An
des All the cats new, from our quiet freside COM
, yanOn to the hons anu useIs anu PantnerS OF the
forest and Jungle.
. This last may seem strange assertion, but to any
ne who has listened critically to their sounds and
aalyzed their voices the roar of the lion is but a
csantic NEW, bearing about the same proportion to
nat of cat as It's stately and majestic form does to
smaller softer, more peaceful aspect of the cat.
let, Notwithstanding the difference in the size, who
| IN look at the lion, whether in his more sleepy
ode as he lies cured up in the corner of his cage,
a us mercer moments OF hunger or OF rage without
icing reminded of the cat? And this not merely
/ The resemblance of one carniyerous animal to an
other, for no one reminded OF dog or wolf
/ oy lion.
Again all the horses and donkeys neigh; for the
bray OF the donkey is only harSher neigh, pitched
different key ii is true, but sound of the same
! characters a donkey himself is but clumsy and
dwarfsh horse All the COWS low, from the buffalo
roamiu, the prairie the mask OF the Arctic ice
fields or the YAK of Asia, to the cattle feeding in our
AmonT the BIRDS this similarity of voice in fami-
lies il st more remarked W need only recall ~
harsh and Loisy parrots similar in their peculiar
/ utterance.
Or take for example the web-footed family-do not
( ali the geese and the innumerabe hosts of dnnIs
quack! Does not every member of the crow fami1yS
cav whether he be the jackdaw, the jay, the magpie
the rock IN some green rookery of the Old World or
the crow of our woods with his long melancholy cav
that seems to make the silence and solitude deeper
Prot, Agasnz. "~'FSA'