A Kentucky Cardinal
Dedication This to her from one who in childhood used to stand at the windows of her room and watch for the Cardinal among the snow-buried cedars. I All this New-year's Day of 1850 the sun shone cloudless but wrought no thaw. Even the landscapes of frost on the window-panes did not melt a flower, and the little trees still keep their silvery boughs arched high above the jeweled avenues. During the afternoon a lean hare limped twice across the lawn, and there was not a creature stirring to chase it. Now the night is bitter cold, with no sounds outside but the cracking of the porches as they freeze tighter. Even the north wind seems grown too numb to move. I had determined to convert its coarse, big noise into something sweet--as may often be done by a little art with the things of this life--and so
child by her arm. But at that moment Tiktok raised his dinner-pail
and pounded it so forcibly against the colonel's head that the big
officer sat down upon the floor with a sudden bump, looking both dazed
and very much astonished.
"Help!" he shouted, and the ten lean soldiers sprang to assist
their leader.
There was great excitement for the next few moments, and Tiktok had
knocked down seven of the army, who were sprawling in every direction
upon the carpet, when suddenly the machine paused, with the
dinner-pail raised for another blow, and remained perfectly motionless.
"My ac-tion has run down," he called to Dorothy. "Wind me up, quick."
She tried to obey, but the big colonel had by this time managed to get
upon his feet again, so he grabbed fast hold of the girl and she was
helpless to escape.
"This is too bad," said the machine. "I ought to have run six hours
lon-ger, at least, but I sup-pose my long walk and my fight with the
Wheel-ers made me run down fast-er than us-u-al."
"Well, it can't be helped," said Dorothy, with a sigh.
"Will you exchange heads with me?" demanded the Princess.
Dedication This to her from one who in childhood used to stand at the windows of her room and watch for the Cardinal among the snow-buried cedars. I All this New-year's Day of 1850 the sun shone cloudless but wrought no thaw. Even the landscapes of frost on the window-panes did not melt a flower, and the little trees still keep their silvery boughs arched high above the jeweled avenues. During the afternoon a lean hare limped twice across the lawn, and there was not a creature stirring to chase it. Now the night is bitter cold, with no sounds outside but the cracking of the porches as they freeze tighter. Even the north wind seems grown too numb to move. I had determined to convert its coarse, big noise into something sweet--as may often be done by a little art with the things of this life--and so