Books by Juliana Horatia Ewing

A soldier's children
Series Title:
Verse books for children by Juliana Horatia Ewing, illustrated in colors by R. Andre
Creator:
Ewing, Juliana Horatia Gatty, 1841-1885 
Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge (Great Britain) ( Publisher ) 
S.P.C.K (Society for Promoting Christian _Knowledge) and E. & J.B. Young & Co ( Publisher ) 
Emrik & Binger ( Printer of plates)
Place of Publication:
London
New York
1885

Dedicated to the »Queer Ones«

In memory of

The South Camp Aldershot

J.H.E.

A Soldier’s Children

written by

Juliana Horatia Ewing

depicted by

R. Andre

Our home used to be in the dear old Camp,
with lots of bands and trumpets and
bugles and dead marches, and three
times a day there was a gun.
But now we live in View Villa at the top of
the village, and it isn't nearly such fun.

We never see any soldier, except one day we saw

a Volunteer, and we ran after him as hard as ever

we could go, for we thought he looked rather brave;

But there's only be one funeral since we

come, an ugly black thing with no Dead March

or Union Jack, and not even a firing party

at the grave.

There is a man in

uniform to bring the

letters, but he's nothing

like our old Orderly Brown.

I told him, through the

hedge, "Your facings are dirty,

and you'd have to wear your belt, if my

father was at home," and, oh, how he did frown!

But things can't be expected to go right when Old

Father's away, and he's gone to the War;

Which is why we play at soldiers and fighting

battles more than ever we did before.

And I try to keep things together: every morning I have a parade of myself and Dick,

To see that we are clean, and to drill him and sword.

= exercise with poor Grandpapa's stick.

Grandpapap's dead, so he doesn't want it now, and Dick's

too young

for a real

tin sword

like mine:

he's so

young he

won't make

up his mind

whether he'll go into the Artillery or the Line.

I want him to

be a gunner,

for his frock's dark

blue, and Captain

Powder gave us a

wooden gun with an

elastic that shoots

quite a big ball.

It's nonsense Dick's

saying he'd like to be a Chaplain,

for that's not being a soldier

at all.

Besides, he always wants to be Drum-Major

when we've funerals, to stamp the stick

and sing RUM - TUM - TUM!

To the Dead March in Saul (that's the

name of the tune, and you play it

on a drum).

Mary is so good, she might

easily be a Chaplain, but

of course she can't be any=

=thing that wants a man;

She likes nursing her

doll, but when we have

battles she moves the

lead soldiers about,

and does what she can.

She never grumbles about being

able to grow up into a General, though

I should think it must be a great

bore.

I asked her what she would do if she were

grown up into a woman, and belonged

to some one who was wounded in the

war;

She said she'd go out and nurse him; so I said, "but supposing you

couldn't get him better and he died; how would you behave?"

And she said if she couldn't get a ship to bring him home in"

she should stay out there ad grow a garden, and make

wreaths for his grave.

Nurse says we oughtn't to have battles now

father's gone to battle, but that's just the

reason why.

And I don't believe one bit what

she said about its making Mother cry.

Only she does like us to

put away our toys on

Sunday, so we can't

have the soldiers or the

gun;

But yesterday Dick said, "I was thinking in Church, and I thought of

a game about soldiers, and it's a perfectly Sunday one;

It' a Church Parade: you'll have to be a lot of Officers

and men, Mary'll do for

a few wives and

families, and I'll

be Chaplain to the

forces and pray for

everyone at the War."

So he put his night=

"gown over his knick

=er bocker suit, and

Knelt on the Ashantee

stool, and Mary

and I Knelt on the floor.

I think it was rather nice of a Dick, for he said what put it into

his head.

Was thinking they

mightn't have much time for their prayers on active service,

and we ought to say them instead.

I should have liked to parade the lead

soldiers, but I did'nt, for Mother says,

"What's the good of being a soldier's

son if you can't do as you're bid?"

But we thought there'd be no harm

in letting the box be there if we kept

on the lid.

Dick couldn't pray out of the

Prayer Book, because he's backward

with being delicate, and he can't read.

So he had to make a prayer out of

his own head, and I think he did it

very well indeed.

He began, "God save the Queen, and

the Army and the Navy, ant the Irregular

Forces and the Volunteer's!

Especially Old Father (he went out with

the first draft, and he's a Captain in the

Royal Engineers) -"

But I said, "I don't think 'GOD save -

the Queen' is a proper prayer, I think

it's only a sort of three cheers."

So he said, "GOD bless the Generals

and the Colonels, and the Majors, and the

Captains, and the Lieutenants, and the

Sub-lieutenats, and the Quartermas=

ters, and the non-commissioned Officers,

and the Men;

"And the bands, and the colours, and the guns, and the horses, and

the wagons, and the gun-carriage they use for the funerals; and

please I should like them all to come home safe again.

"Don't Mary! I haven't finished; it is'nt time for you to say Amen.)

"I hav'nt prayed for the Chaplains, or the Doctors who help the poor

men left groaning on the ground when the victories are won;

"And I want to pray particularly for the very poor ones who die

of fever and miss all the fighting and fun.

"God bless the good soldiers.

like Old Father, and Captain Powder, and the men with good -

conduct medals; and please let the naughty ones all be forgiven!

"And if the black men

kill our men, send down

white angles to take their

poor dear souls to Heaven! -

"Now you may both say

Amen, and I shall give out Hymn

four hundred and thirty seven." -

There are eight verses and eight Alleluias. and we

cant sing very well, but we did our best,

Only Mary would cry in the verse about Soon

to faithful warriors comes their rest!"

(437 "Ancient & Modern Hymns": 196 Church Hymns" S.P.C.K." for all the Saints &c" afine Hymn by Bishop Walsham How. -)

But we're both

very glad Dick

has found out a

Sunday game

about fighting for

we never had one before;

And now we can play at Soldiers every day till Old Father

comes from the War. - . - . - .

But we're both

very glad Dick

has found out a

Sunday game

about fighting for

we never had one before;

And now we can play at Soldiers every day till Old Father

comes from the War. - . - . - .

T H E   E N D

A sweet little dear

A sweet little dear

Series Title:
Verse books for children by Juliana Horatia Ewing, illustrated in colors by R. Andre

Creator:
Ewing, Juliana Horatia Gatty, 1841-1885
Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge (Great Britain) (Publisher) 
E. & J.B. Young & Co (Publisher) 
Emrik & Binger (Printer of plates)

Place of Publication:
London
New York
1885 

A sweet little dear

Written by Juliana Horatia Ewing

Depicted by R. Andre

I always was a
remarkable child;
so old for my age,
and such a sensitive
nature!— Mamma
often says so.
And I'm the sweetest,
little dear in my blue
ribbons, and quite a
picture in my Pomp-
adour hat! Mrs.
Brown told her so on
Sunday, and that's how I know.

And I'm
a sacred
responsibility
to my parents
(it was what
the clergyman's
wife at the
seaside
said),

And a solemn charge, and a fair white page, and a
tender bud, and a spotless nature of wax to be
moulded; — but the rest of it has gone out of my head.

There was a lot more,
and she left two books
as well, and I think she
called me a Privilege,
and Mamma said "Yes,"
and began
to cry.
And nurse
came in with
luncheon on a tray,
and put away the
books, and said she
was as weak as a
kitten, and worried to
fiddlestrings, as anyone
with common sense could see with half an eye.

I was hopping round the room, but I stopped and said:
"My kitten's not weak, and I don't believe anybody could
see with only half an eye. Could they, Mamma?"

And Nurse
said, "Go and
play, my dear,
and let your
Mamma rest;"
but Mamma
said, "No, my
love, stay
where you are.

Dear Nurse, lift me up, and put a pillow
to my back, I know you mean to be kind;
But she does ask such
remarkable questions, and
while I've strength to
speak, don't let me check
the inquiring mind.

If I should fail to be all a mother ought —
oh, how my head throbs when the dear
child jumps!"
and then Nurse said, "Ugh!
When you're worried into your grave,
she'll have no mother at all, and'll have to
tumble up as other folks do.

There's the poor master at his wits'
end — a child's not all a grown person
has to think of—and Miss Jane

would do well enough if
she'd less of her own way.

But there's more children spoilt with care than the want of
it, and more mothers murdered.
Than there's folks hanged for,
and that's what I say.

Children learns what you
teach 'em, and Miss Jane's
old enough to have learned
to wait upon you:
"And if her mother thought
less of her and she thought
more of her mother, it would
be better for her too."

But Nurse is a nasty
cross old thing — I hate her;

and I hate the doctor,
for he wanted me to be
left behind.
When Mamma went to the
sea for her health; but I
begged and begged till she
promised I should go, for
Mamma is always kind.

And she bought me a new
wooden spade and a basket,

and a red and green ship with three masts,

and a one-and-sixpenny telescope to look at the sea;

But when I got
on to the sands, I
thought I'd rather be
on the esplanade, for
there was a little girl there who was looking at me,
Dressed in a navy-blue suit and a sailor hat, with
fair hair tied with ribbons; so I told Mamma,

And she got me a suit, ready-made (but she said it
was dreadfully dear), and a hat to match, in the
Pebble Brooch Repository and Universal Bazaar.

It faded in
the sun, and
came all to
pieces in the
wash; but I
was tired of
it before.

For the esplanade is very dull,
and the little girl with fair hair
had got sand-boots and a
shrimping-net,
and was playing
on the shore.

And when my sand-boots came home, and I'd got a better
net than hers,
she went donkey-riding,
and I knew it was to tease me.

But Nurse was so cross, and said if they sent a man in
a herring-boat to the moon for what I wanted that
nothing would please me.

So I said the seaside was a very disagreeable
place, and
I wished I
hadn't come.
And I told
Mamma so,
and begged

her to try and get
well soon, to take
us all home.
But now we've

got home, it's very hot, and
I'm afraid of the wasps; and I'm sure it was cooler at the
sea.

And the Smiths won't be back for a
fortnight, so I can't even have
Matilda to tea.
I don't care much for my new
doll—I think I'm too old for
dolls now; I like
books better, though
I didn't like the
last.
And I've
read all I
have: I
always skip

the dull parts,
and when you
skip a good deal you get through them so fast.

I like toys if they're the best kind, with works; though
when I've had one good game with them, I don't
much care to play with them again.

I feel as if I wanted
something new to amuse me, and Mamma says
it's because I've got such an active brain.

Nurse says I don't know
what I want, and I know I don't,
and that's just what it is.
It seems so sad a young
creature like me should feel
unhappy, and not know what's
amiss.
But Nurse never thinks of
my feelings, any more than
the cruel nurse in the story
about the little girl who
was so good.
And if I die early as
she did, perhaps then people
will be sorry I've been
misunderstood.

I shouldn't like to die early,
but I should like people to be sorry
for me, and to praise me
when I was dead:
If I could only
come to life again when they
had missed me very much,
and I'd heard what they
said.
Of course that's
impossible, I know, but
I wish I knew what
to do instead!
It seems such
a pity that a sweet
little dear like me should
ever be sad!
And Mamma
says she buys everything I want,

and has taught me
everything I will learn, and reads every book,

and takes every hint she can pick up, and keeps me with her
all day, and worries about me all night, till she's nearly mad:

And if any kind person can think of any better way
to make me happy we shall both of us be glad.