Six Little Bunkers at Grandma Bell's

Vi as nice a ride as he had given the two boys,
and the girls clapped their hands in glee and laughed joyously as they
rattled along over the paths.

Then came the turn of Margy and Mun Bun, and they liked it more than any
one, I guess, and didn't want to get out of the cart.

"But Zip is tired now," said Mrs. Bunker. "See how fast he is breathing,
and how his tongue hangs out of his mouth," for the dog had been pulling
the cart for over an hour. "Get out, Mun and Margy, and you may have
another ride after Zip rests."

The little children loved the dog, and wanted to be kind to him; so, when
their mother told them this, they got out of the cart, and Zip was
unharnessed and given some cold water to drink and a nice bone on which to
gnaw.

"If he was a horse he could have oats," said Russ. "But I guess he likes a
bone better."

"I guess so, too," said Grandma Bell, and she smiled.

With the dog-cart, taking rowing trips on the lake now and then, going
fishing, hunting for berries and walking in the woods, the six little
Bunkers at Grandma Bell's had a fine time that early summer. There seemed
to be something new to do every day, or, if there wasn't, Russ or Laddie
made it.

"And I've thought up a new riddle," said the smaller boy one day.

"What's it about?" asked Russ.

"It's about Zip," Laddie replied. "Why is Zip like a little boy when he's
tired? I mean when Zip is tired. Why is he like a little boy then?"

"'Cause he wants to sit down and rest," answered Russ.

"Nope; that isn't the answer," said Laddie, shaking his head.

"Why isn't it?"

"'Cause it isn't. I know the answer, and it isn't that. Tom helped me
think the riddle up. Maybe it's an old one, but Tom said it was good. Why
is Zip, when he's tired, like a little boy?"

Russ thought for a while, and then he said:

"I don't know. I give up. Why is he, Laddie?"

"'Cause his breath comes in short pants. You see when Zip is tired his
breath is short--he pants, Tom told me. And a little boy, like you and me,

Reverend Nehemiah Adams (born February 19, 1806; died October 6, 1878) was an American clergyman and writer. He was born in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1806 to Nehemiah Adams and Mehitabel Torrey Adams. He graduated from Harvard University in 1826, and from Andover Theological Seminary in 1829. He was ordained as co-pastor of First Congregational Church in Cambridge, Massachusetts, that same year. In 1832, he married Martha Hooper.

wiersze Święta Wiersze - poezyjka.pl Kamocki Stanislaw Wyspianski

Joanna Baillie (September 11, 1762February 23, 1851) was a Scottish poet and dramatist. Baillie was very well-known during her lifetime and, though a woman, intended her plays not for the closet but for the stage. Admired both for her literary powers and her sweetness of disposition, her cottage at Hampstead was the centre of a brilliant literary society. Baillie died at the age of 88, her faculties remaining unimpaired to the last.