382 
AMEEIOAK AGETOULTURIST. 
[September, 
At the Ferry. 
Down the woodland patli comes Qiieenie, pretty 
Queenie ! with her bonny brown eyes and fair w.av- 
ing liair ! tlie purple haze of tlie summer twilight 
enwrapping her as with a mantle, and the Last r.ays 
of tlie setting sun glancing o’er her white dress, 
pale cheek, and the gay-hued flowers she is carry¬ 
ing to grandma, who lives in the old red house 
just across the river. 
The sleepy birds twitter 
a bappy lullaby in the 
tree tops, the water- 
lilies float calmly on the 
rippling stream, and all 
nature seems to rejoice 
at the evening hour. As 
Queenie reaches the lit¬ 
tle rustic pier jutting 
out into' the river, she 
takes a small whistle 
from her pocket, and 
sends a clear, sweet sig¬ 
nal ringing across to the 
old boatman, to come 
and row her over the 
ferry. A sad, dreamy 
look creeps into her dark 
eyes, and the droop of 
her rosy lip show's that 
her thoughts are not all 
without alloy, for “the 
thoughts of youth arc 
long, long thoughts ! ” 
“ If it were but Ronald 
coming to row me over,” 
she sighs, as memory 
flies like a white bird to 
the friend and playmate 
of her earliest years; 
the brave, handsome 
lad, w’ho tw'elve months 
before had left his coun¬ 
try home, and gone to 
seek his fortune in the 
great city. “ How hap¬ 
py we were together! 
and what meny rambles 
we had in the green¬ 
wood,and what pleasant 
sails on the dear, old 
river ! The ripest ber¬ 
ries and brightest leaves 
were all for me, and to¬ 
gether we sought the 
nest of the earliest birds, 
and the sheltered nooks 
where the May flowers 
first breathed forth their 
spicy fragrance.—Sweet 
little secrets, dear to our 
childish hearts! How 
Ronald always teased 
old Carl to let him row 
me across the river to 
school, and how we an¬ 
noyed the old man by 
lingering on the way, to 
gather the great golden- 
hearted lilies, or watch 
thetinyfish dart through 
the blue water! Some¬ 
times he was ‘ Prince Charming,’ and I his ‘ Lady 
Fair,’ whom he carried away to his beautiful 
castle in Fairyland ; and he would heap a wealth 
of wild flowers at my feet, and crown me with a 
wreath of woven oak leaves. He always ended the 
play by saying, ‘ Just wait, Queenie, until I am a 
man, and you will see 'what I can do,’ and then 
bending to the oars while I reclined in the stern of 
the little boat, he sang merrily, 
‘And jewels so fair, you shall twine in your hair, 
And a lady you'll surely be.’ 
■While I laughed, and pelted him with pink and 
white laurel blossoms, telling him I was quite con¬ 
tent to be pl.ain little Queenie, so long as he came 
to row me over the ferry. But, ah me ! I fear he 
will never come again, for it is six long months 
since a word has come from that big, cruel town, 
that has swallowed up my bonny, golden-haired, 
little boatman ; and there is none but crabbed old 
Carl to row me across. No\v I never loiter by the 
way, but hasten as fast as ever I can,” and some¬ 
thing that glistened like deW'drojis fell upon 
flowers she was c.arrying to her dear grandma. 
The gray shadows deepen and darken, and 
Queenie has to strain her eyes to catch a glimpse 
WAITING- AT THE FERE'?. 
Drawn and Engraved for the American Agricuttiirist. 
of the little boat now bounding toward her from 
the opposite shore. “ Old Carl’s rheumatism must 
be better,” she thinks, “for he never rowed so fast 
before,” and she prepares with a sigh to clamber 
down by herself into the rickety little boat, for 
the ancient ferryman is anything but gallant. 
Nearer and nearer it comes, and the girl covers her 
eyes with her hands, to shut out the wrinkled old 
face, if only for a moment, but — is she dreaming? 
A merry laugh sounds in her ears, her hands are 
pulled quickly dowu from her eyes, and a happy 
boj’ish voice cries ; “ Will you not look at me, 
Queenie ? I came back to row you over the ferry.” 
Jack, the Bridge Mouse. 
S. C. A. 
“ Mary, we are to have a visitor next week; I for¬ 
got to tell you before,” remarked Farmer Ellis, as 
having finished his supper, he leaned back in his 
arm-chair, and smiled contentedly on his wife at the 
other end of the table. — “'Who?” asked Mrs. 
Ellis in some surprise, and “Oh! pa, who is it?” 
exclaimed three eager childish voices. — “ I don’t 
know his name,” said the farmer, “but this after¬ 
noon I met the minister, 
and he asked if I would 
entertain one of the chil¬ 
dren sent out by the 
‘ Fresh Air Society ’ for 
a couple of weeks.”— 
“But you did not say 
yes ?” cried his wife.— 
“Of course I did I Why ! 
I should be ashamed to 
refuse a poor little chap 
a home and glimpse of 
the green fields for a 
few days.”—“Yes, but 
think of the association 
for our own children,” 
and Mrs. Ellis glanced 
anxiously-at the bright, 
innocent faces round the 
board. “ These boys 
and girls come from the 
lowest slums of New 
York, where they must 
see .all forms of misery 
and wickedness.”—“The 
more reason why we 
should do them good 
when we can, and give 
them a happy time while 
they are with us,” said 
the kind-hearted farm¬ 
er, “and I hope Harry 
and May will take pains 
to be very kind to the 
poor little one, whoever 
he is.’’—“Yes, indeed 
we will,” cried the two 
elder chOdren, whose 
sympathies were easily 
enlisted, whi le four-year- 
old Lilly, the baby and 
pet of the household, 
nodded her golden head, 
lisping, “ and me too ! 
me show poor ’ittle boy 
my kittens !” for a trio 
of gray and white kit¬ 
tens housed in the wood¬ 
shed were at present 
her dearest treasures. 
As it seemed settled, 
Mrs. Ellis made no fur¬ 
ther objection, but she 
felt many misgivings 
about letting this black 
sheep in among her care¬ 
fully tended flock, al¬ 
though her motherly 
heart was filled with pity 
for the wretched little 
waifs, whose one bright 
spot in the whole year is 
their fortnight spent in 
the country. So five days later, Harry and May 
stood one fine summer evening on the platform of 
the little railroad station, eagerly watching for the 
incoming train that was to bring them “their 
boy,” as they liked to call him. A visitor of any 
kind was a raiity in their quiet home, and they had 
planned all sorts of fun and frolics for the next 
two weeks. It came at last! the iron horse steamin >■ 
and puffing like some monster in distress; and from 
the long line of cars alighted such a bevy of little 
folks, in shabby though neat clothing, wearing the 
blue ribbon badges of the Society, and with eager, 
expectant faces, that the children were quite puz- 
