Читать книгу Our Little Tot's Own Book of Pretty Pictures, Charming Stories, and Pleasing Rhymes and Jingles онлайн

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Wild strawberries grew red and sweet down in the tall grass, and great purple violets, and tall buttercups nid-nodding in the wind.

Very often Myra and I would take off our shoes and stockings, and wade. The roguish little brook would tickle my small toes, and try and trip me up on one of its little mossy stones. Once I did slip and sat right down in the water with a great splash! And the little brook took all the starch out of my clothes, and ran off with it in a twinkling.

Now and then, I would fasten a bent pin to a string and tie the string to the end of a stick and fish for the tiny minnows and tadpoles. But, somehow, I never caught one of the little darting things. I used to believe the brook whispered them to keep away from that little shining hook.

Sometimes, I would take a big white chip and load it with pebbles or violets and send it down stream. The sly little brook would slip my boat over one of its tiny waterfalls just as quick as it could! If my little boat was loaded with pebbles, down would go my heavy cargo to the bottom! But if it were loaded with violets, then a fleet of fairy purple canoes would float on and on, and away out of sight.