THERE is ice on the hill, hurrah, hurrah!

We can slide quite down to the pas-

ture-bar,

Where the cows at night, in the summer

weather,

Would stand a-waiting and lowing together.

"Tie your tippet closer, John,"

That was what their mother said;

"All of you put mittens on—

The broom will answer for a sled!"

They had never a sled, but dragged in its room,

Just as gayly, behind them, the worn kitchen-

broom;

John, Sammy, and Tom, and their sweet lit-

tle sister,

With her cheeks cherry-red, where the wind

had kissed her.

"You can watch, sis, that's enough,"

That was what her brother's said;

"Keep your hands warm in your muff—

Girls can't slide without a sled! "

"Oh! where in the world is there aught so nice

As to slide down the pasture-hill on the ice?

Quite down to the bar, sis, see, we are going,

Where the cows each night in summer stood lowing.

"If I were a boy, like you—"

This was what their sister said,

Watching as they downward flew—

"I would make a girl a sled!"