that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

TENNYSON

MAGGIE TULLIVER

Maggie and Tom came in from the garden with their father and their Uncle
Glegg. Maggie had thrown her bonnet off very carelessly, and, coming in
with her hair rough as well as out of curl, rushed at once to Lucy. The
contrast between the two cousins was like the contrast between a rough,
dark, overgrown puppy and a white kitten. Lucy put up the neatest little
rosebud mouth to be kissed: everything about her was neat.

"Heyday!" said Aunt Glegg, with loud emphasis. "Do little boys and girls
come into a room without taking notice of their uncles and aunts? That
wasn't the way when I was a little girl."

"Go and speak to your aunts and uncles, my dears," said Mrs. Tulliver.
She wanted to whisper to Maggie a command to go and have her hair
brushed.

"Well, and how do you do? And I hope you're good children, are you?"
said Aunt Glegg, in the same loud, emphatic way. "Look up, Tom, look up.
Look at me now. Put your hair behind your ears, Maggie, and keep your
frock on your shoulder."

Aunt Glegg always spoke to them in this loud, emphatic way, as if she
considered them deaf.

"Well, my dears," said Aunt Pullet, "you grow wonderfully fast,--I doubt
they'll outgrow their strength. I think the girl has too much hair. I'd
have it thinned and cut shorter, sister, if I were you; it isn't good
for her health. It's that makes her skin so brown,--don't you think so,
sister Deane?"

"I can't say, I'm sure, sister," said Mrs. Deane, shutting her lips
close and looking at Maggie.

"No, no," said Mr. Tulliver, "the child's healthy enough: there's
nothing ails her. There's red wheat as well as white, for that matter,
and some like the dark grain best. But it would be as well if Bessie
would have the child's hair cut so it would lie smooth."

"Maggie," said Mrs. Tulliver, beckoning Maggie to her, and whispering in
her ear, "go and get your hair brushed,--do, for shame! I told you not
to come in without going to Martha first; you know I did."

"Tom, come out with me," whispered Maggie, pulling his sleeve as she
passed him; and Tom followed willingly enough.