th hop and leap,
Were passing through a forest deep,
When in an open space they spied
A heavy caldron, large and wide,
Where woodmen, working at their trade,
A rustic boiling-place had made.
"My friends," said one, "a chance like this
No cunning Brownie band should miss,
All unobserved, we may prepare
And boil a pudding nicely there;

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

Some dying embers smolder still
Which we may soon revive at will;
And by the roots of yonder tree
A brook goes babbling to the sea.
At Parker's mill, some miles below,
They're grinding flour as white as snow
An easy task for us to bear
Enough to serve our need from there:
I noticed, as I passed to-night,
A window with a broken light,
And through the opening we'll pour
Though bolts and bars be on the door."
"And I," another Brownie cried,
"Will find the plums and currants dried;
I'll have some here in half an hour
To sprinkle thickly through the flour;
So stir yourselves, and bear in mind
That some must spice and sugar find."

[Illustration]

"I know," cried one, "where hens have made
Their nest beneath the burdock shade--
I saw them stealing out with care
To lay their eggs in secret there.
The farmer's wife, through sun and rain,
Has sought to find that nest in vain:
They cackle by the wall of stones,
The hollow stump and pile of bones,
And by the ditch that lies below,
Where yellow weeds and nettles grow;
And draw her after everywhere
Until she quits them in despair.

[Illustration]

The task be mine to thither lead
A band of comrades now with speed,
To help me bear a tender load
Along the rough and rugged road."
Away, away, on every side,
At once the lively Brownies glide;
Some after plums, more 'round the hill--
The shortest way to reach the mill--
While some on wings and some on legs
Go darting off to find the eggs.
A few remained upon the spot
To build a fire beneath the pot;
Some gathered bark from trunks of trees,