Читать книгу Our Little Tot's Own Book of Pretty Pictures, Charming Stories, and Pleasing Rhymes and Jingles - Anonymous - Страница 7
ОглавлениеIII.—THE LITTLE POND.
Out in the pasture, was a little pond. This little pond was quite deep in the time of the spring and autumn rains. At such seasons Myra and I would take our little raft made of boards, and by means of some stout sticks would push the raft around on that little pond for hours. The wind would raise little waves, and these waves would splash up against the sides of our little raft with a delicious sort of noise.
We used to dress a smooth stick of wood in doll’s clothes. We used to call this wooden dolly by the name of Mrs. Pippy. We would take Mrs. Pippy on board our ship as passenger. Somehow, Mrs. Pippy always contrived to fall overboard. And then, such screaming, such frantic pushing of that raft as there would he, before that calmly-floating Mrs. Pippy was rescued!
Just beyond the further edge of the pond was a little swampy place where great clumps of sweet-flag used to grow. Sweet-flag is a water-plant whose leaves are very long and slender and their stem-ends, where they wrap about each other, are good to eat. In summer this little sweet-flag swamp was perfectly dry. But when the rains had come and the little pond was full, this little sweet-flag swamp was covered with water.
Right between the pond and the swamp lay a big timber, stretching away like a narrow bridge, with the pond-water lapping it on one side and the swamp-water lapping it on the other. Such exciting times as we used to have running across that little bridge after sweet-flag!
“Run! run!” we would cry to each other; and then, away we would go, running like the wind, yet very carefully, for the least misstep was sure to plump us into the water!
When the water in the swamp had nearly dried up, a bed of the very nicest kind of mud was left. Taking off our shoes and stockings, we would dance in that sticky mud until we were tired. Then we would hop over the timber and wash our small toes clean in the pond.
Percia V. White.
