I wish that I could see their faces, Or know at least that they were near; Ah! gladly would I cross the sea, So that with them I might but be, For now my days pass wearily, And all are strangers here. A DAY OF HARD WORK. A CONVERSATION BETWEEN HARRY AND KITTY. KITTY.--Well, now you’ve been running about so, pray can’t you sit still? I want to have some talk with you, and I certainly will: I’ve got all this unpicking to do, for while I talk I must work; You boys can run about idling--I sit stitching like a Turk, Come, now tell me, can’t you, something about the farm-yard? How many eggs has the turkey laid--and is that muddy place dry and hard? Come, tell me in a minute, I haven’t patience to wait; And till you begin, sir, there’s a thimble-pie for you on the top of your pate. HARRY.--Oh Kitty! you’ve knocked me so, I’ll tell my mother, that I will! If you do so, miss, nobody will like you, so you’d better be still. KITTY.--Well, then, tell me something! why should I be still and nobody talking? HARRY.--Oh! I’m tired with this running about, and this riding, and this walking; I wish there was no such thing as running or walking at all; And I wish every horse were in the fields, or else tied up in its stall! What’s your work, Kitty? sitting still in the house at ease; You’ve nothing to do but to sit down, and get up again, just as you please; And yet you talk of your work, as if ’twas the hardest that e’er was done, Why compare it with mine, child, and I’m sure it’s nothing but fun! KITTY.--Child! I’m no more child than you; I’m but younger by a year, I desire you to speak respectfully to me, now, sir,--do you hear? HARRY.--Yes, yes, I hear! But I really am so tired, as I was just now saying; I wish you’d get your work done, and let’s begin playing! You can’t believe, I’m sure, all the work I’ve done this day-- I’ve weeded two carrot beds, and the onions-- and carried all the weeds away; And I’ve been down to Thomas Jackson’s to tell him to get the horse shod; And in coming back there was a great, big, rusty nail, upon which I trod, And it lamed me so, I don’t believe I shall walk for a week, At least as I ought to do, for my ancle has quite a creak! KITTY.--Oh dear, let me look at it! Why, I’m sure it is quite shocking-- See, there’s a hole as large as my thimble in the ancle of your stocking!