All through this Summer's day!
No one to grumble.

In the hat, in the hay,
Arthur we'll smother;
Bring armfuls, heap them high,
Pile them up--now good-bye,
Poor little brother!

In the hay, in the hay,
Snugly reclining,
Shaded from the noontide heat,
Smelling the clover sweet,
See us all dining;

While the haymakers sit
Under the willows,
Each with his bread and cheese
Spread out upon his knees,
Hay for their pillows.

Hark! how the laugh and chat,
Happy, light hearted!
Now to their work they go,
Raking up one long row,
Fit to be carted.

Now comes the wagon near,
Quickly they're loading;
Rake away! rake away!
While it's fine make the hay--
Rain is foreboding.

Now that the sunset ray
Says the day's over,
Homeward we make our way,
In the cart strewn with hay,
Smelling of clover.

Mrs. Hawtrey

[Illustration: American Indian Boys at Play.]

[Page 85--Play Land]

[Illustration: Thomas Mending his Bat.]

[Illustration: My Dog and I Dancing.]

Johnny the Stout

"Ho! for a frolic!"
Said Johnny the stout;
"There's coasting and sledding;
I'm going out."

Scarcely had Johnny
Plunged in the snow,
When there came a complaint
Up from his toe:

"We're cold" said the toe,
"I and the rest;
There's ten of us freezing,
Standing abreast."

Then up spoke an ear;
"My, but it's labor--
Playing in winter. Eh!
Opposite neighbour!"

"Pooh!" said his nose,
Angry and red;
"Who wants to tingle?
Go home to bed!"

Eight little fingers,
Four to a thumb,
All cried together--
"Johnny, we're numb!"

But Johnny the stout
Wouldn't listen a minute;
Never a snow-bank
But Johnny was in it.

Tumbling and jumping,
Shouting with glee,
Wading the snow-drifts
Up to his knee.

Soon he forgot them,
Fingers and toes,
Never once thought of
The ear and the nose.

Ah! What a frolic!
All in a glow,
Johnny grew warmer
Out in the snow.

Often his breathing
Came with a joke;
"Blaze away, Johnny!
I'll do the smoke."

"And I'll do the fire,"
Said Johnny the bold.
"Fun is the fuel
For driving off cold."

[Illustration: Going to dig Sand.]

[Illustration: Sorry He Played.]

[Page 86--Play Land]

[Illustration: Our Lamb Playin