LITTLE ONES AT HOME.

is ai tibetan OA

THE BLACKBERRY-GIRL.
“Why, Phebe, are you come so soon?
Where are your berries, child?

You cannot, sure, have sold them all,
You had a. basket piled.”

“No, mother, as I climbed the fence,
The nearest way to town,
My apron caught upon the stake,
And so I tumbled down.

“T scratched my arm, and tore my hair,
But still did not complain ;
And had my blackberries been safe,
Should not have cared a grain.

“But when I saw them on the ground,
All scattered by my side,
I picked my empty basket up,
And down I sat and cried.

“ Just then a pretty little Miss

Chanced to be walking by ;
She stopped, and looking pitifal,

She begged me not to cry.

“'Poor little girl, you fell,’ said she,
‘And must be sadly hurt?’

‘O no, I cried; ‘but see my fruit,

All mixed with sand and dirt.’