_JULY_

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Leo_]

The July house was an old, old house, With an old, old man inside, Who told them stories of other days, Stories of pluck and pride.

His beard was long and his hair was white, But his keen eyes were not dim, As he told them things that old, old men Had long ago told him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The July house was an old, old house, With an old, old man inside_]

At first Amos and Ann stood a little in awe of the old man in the July house; but he looked so jolly and friendly, and J. M. seemed to know him so well, that they were soon set at ease.

Little Ann made bold to ask him a question. "Do you remember the American Revolution?" she said.

"My sakes alive, Ann!" cried Amos, a good deal embarra.s.sed.

But the old man did not seem at all offended. "Well," he answered slowly, "I can tell you this much about it:

"The little boys of '76-- They did their ch.o.r.es and swam and fished, And hunted hares and whittled sticks, While all the time they wished and wished To hear a sudden summons come, Each waiting day, each listening night: 'We need the boys for flag and drum, So send them to the fight!'

"The little girls of '76-- They rocked their dollies to and fro, And taught the kittens pretty tricks, And heard their mothers talking low; Then climbed into the hayloft high, They peered through every glimmering crack, And longed to raise a joyful cry: 'The men are marching back!'"

Amos was inclined to think that maybe Ann's question hadn't been such a foolish one, after all.

"Perhaps," he ventured, "you knew my great-great-great-grandfather. Can you tell me anything about him, sir?"

"I can tell you this," the old man said:--

"Your great-great-great-grandfather Was a little chap like you, When suddenly one summer Bugles of battle blew, And bells rang in the towers, And flags at windows flew.

"He heard the tramp of horses And the fall of marching feet; He saw a dust on the hill road, Regiments in the street, While men were thick in the highway And drums in the market beat.

"He watched how the townsfolk hurried Eagerly to and fro; He heard the voice of his mother, Quiet and brave and low; And he saw his father shoulder A queer old gun and go.

"Your great-great-great-grandfather, St.u.r.dy and strong like you, Glad of the blowing bugles, Proud of the flags that flew, Was glad and proud as you, lad-- Son of a soldier, too!"

"Why, I _am_ the son of a soldier!" Amos cried, delighted. "Though I don't know how you found it out, to be sure."

"Now, Amos," the Journeying Man put in, "it's only fair that you should give us your poem about a band."

Amos turned red. "My poem about a band!" he echoed. "I don't know any poem about a band."

"One--two--three," chimed an old grandfather clock on the stairs; and all at once the little boy, much to his astonishment, began to recite. This is what he recited:--

"A band is such a brave, bright thing, With ta.s.sels tossed, and burnished bra.s.s, And music quick and fluttering-- I love to see one pa.s.s.

"Sometimes it sounds for turning wheels,-- A circus coming into town,-- And then the tune gets in my heels And shakes them up and down.

"Sometimes it sounds for marching men, With cry of bugles in the street, And fair flags blowing free--and then I cannot hold my feet.

"I follow, follow on and on; I let it lead me where it will; And when the last clear notes are gone, Somehow I hear them still."

The old man was plainly pleased with the verses; he told Amos that little boys had always felt that way about bands, and probably always would.

"Wait a moment," he said, as the Journeying Man made the move to go. "Did the June fellow tell them the story of Contrary Mary?"

"Yes, he did," the children answered in duet. "And oh, wasn't she curious, sure enough?"

"Well, she had a right to be queer," the old man said meditatively. "She inherited queerness. Fact of the matter is, her family name was Queeribus.

Let me tell you about _her_ great-great-great-grandfather!

"Old Quin Queeribus-- He loved his garden so, He wouldn't have a rake around, A shovel or a hoe.

"For each potato's eyes he bought Fine spectacles of gold, And m.u.f.flers for the corn, to keep Its ears from getting cold.

"On every head of lettuce green-- What do you think of that?-- And every head of cabbage, too, He tied a garden hat.

"Old Quin Queeribus-- He loved his garden so, He couldn't eat his growing things, He only let them grow!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

AUGUST

_VIII_

_AUGUST_

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Virgo_]

Oh, such a funny August house-- It really was like a zoo, For animals roamed in all the rooms (Even a kangaroo); Such sociable, smiling, friendly beasts!

As soon as the travelers came, They hurried out with extended paws, Announcing, each, his name.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Oh, such a funny August house-- It really was like a zoo_]

"Why, how in the world did they learn to talk?" the young visitors cried.

"Did they go to school, J. M.?"

By that time the various animals, having performed their duties as hosts, had scampered off to play again, and so they were out of hearing.

"Did they go to school?" the children repeated.

The Journeying Man shook his head and made answer:--

"The birds and beasts don't go to school; I guess 't would make them mad to; They wouldn't pa.s.s an hour in cla.s.s.