Читать книгу The Haven Children; or, Frolics at the Funny Old House on Funny Street онлайн

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“Little work of love and praise

That we may do for Jesus’ sake;”

but we might play Sunday-school, with chairs, if Charlotte would be teacher, and she can tell stories good as any book, except Mamma.”

The Sunday-school idea was eagerly seized upon, and the chairs were soon arranged in Sunday-school order. Then Nan and her class of little ones stood up in most proper order whilst they sang Charlotte’s favorite hymn—

“All hail the power of Jesus’ name,

Let angels prostrate fall,

Bring forth the royal diadem,

And crown Him Lord of all.”

Bear’s sweet treble blended nicely with the two women’s clear notes, whilst Rosie and Jack sang true to their own idea of time, and enjoyed the discord very much.

Then followed a mild amount of Catechism, and Bear chose, “Jerusalem the Golden,” for another “sing,” then Jack asked—

“Miss Sunday-school teacher, can’t we each another tell a true Bible story, and me begin?”

The teacher assented, and Jack began, at first, very confidently—

“Well, now, there was a little fellow, so big as me, and his name was Jofef, and his Papa made him a coat, very buful one, blue and red and buful brass buttons, like Fourth of July soldiers’ coats, only there wasn’t no pantaloons with stripes, and—and two little pockets like mine with hankshef, his Mamma put in, with his name Jack (I mean Jofef) in the corner, and he took and—and popped some corn and—er, and—er, I guess it’s your turn, Rosie.”