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(Sleep, my little child.
So gentle, sweet and mild!
The little lamb has gone to rest,
The little bird is in its nest,--

“Put in the donkey!” cries Laura. The golden voice goes on without a pause--

The little donkey in the stable
Sleeps as sound as he is able;
All things now their rest pursue,
You are sleepy too!)

Again, she would sing passionate songs of love or battle, or hymns of lofty faith and aspiration. One and all, we listened eagerly; one and all, we too began to see visions and dream dreams.

Now and then, the Muse and Humanity had to stand aside and wait while the children had a party; such a party as no other children ever had. What wonder, when both parents turned the full current of their power into this channel?

Our mother writes of one such festival:--

My guests arrived in omnibus loads at four o'clock. My notes to parents concluded with the following P. S.: “Return-omnibus provided, with insurance against plum-cake and other accidents.” A donkey carriage afforded great amusement out of doors, together with swing, bowling-alley, and the Great Junk. While all this was going on, the H.'s, J. S., and I prepared a theatrical exhibition, of which I had made a hasty outline. It was the story of “Blue beard.” We had curtains which drew back and forth, and regular footlights. You can't think how good it was! There were four scenes. My antique cabinet was the “Blue beard”

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