Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

"So now to bed, my little maid,
For you _will not_ be dressed to-day;
Then Peggy will be taught to think
Before acting in such a way."

Oh, for the tears that Peggy shed!
But now every morn, I am told,
A wee young maid is quietly dressed,
And is always as good as gold.

The Shadows

"Mamma! I see something
Quite dark on the wall;--
It moves up and down,
And it looks very strange!
Sometimes it is large,
And sometimes it is small;
Pray, tell me what it is,
And why does it change?"

"It is Mamma's shadow
That puzzles you so,
And there is your own
Close beside it, my love!
Now run round the room,
It will go where you go;
It rests where you sit,
When you rise it will move.

"These wonderful shadows
Are caused by the light
From fire and from candles
Upon us that falls;
If we were not here,
All that place would be bright,
But light can't shine
Through us to lighten the wall.

"And when you are out
Some fine day in the sun,
I'll take you where shadows
Of apple-trees lie;
And houses and cottages too--
Every one
Repose on their shadows
Beneath the bright sky.

"Now hold up your mouth,
And give me a sweet kiss;
Our shadows kiss too!--
Don't you see it quite plain?"
"O yes! and I thank you
For telling me this,
I'll not be afraid
Of a shadow again."

Mary Lundie

[Page 14--Naughty Girls]

Little Bo-Peep

Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,
And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they'll come home
And bring their tails behind them.

Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep,
And dreamed she heard them bleating,
But when she awoke, 'twas all a joke--
Alas! they still were fleeting.

Then up she took her little crook,
Determined for to find them;
She found them, indeed, bit it made her heart bleed,
They'd left their tails behind them.

It happened one day, as Bo-Peep did stray
Over the meadows hard by,
That there she espied their tails side by side,
All hung on a tree to dry.

She heaved a sigh, and gave by-and-by
Each careless sheep a banging;
And as for the rest, she thought it was best
Just to leave their tails a-hanging.

Mary's Little Lamb

Mary had a little lamb
Whose fleece was white as snow,
And everywhere that Mary went
That Lamb it would not go;

So Mary took that little Lamb
And put it on the spit,
And soon it was so nicely done
She ate it every bit.

Pemmy

Pemmy was a pretty girl,
But Fanny was a better;
Pemmy look'd like any churl,
When little Fanny let her.

Pemmy had a pretty nose,
But Fanny had a better;
Pemmy oft would come to blows,
But Fanny would not let her.

Pemmy had a pretty song,
But Fanny had a better;
Pemmy would sing all day long,
But Fanny would not let her.

Little Husband

I had a little husband,
No bigger than my thumb;
I put him in a pint pot,
And there I bid him drum.

I bought a little horse,
That galloped up and down;
I bridled him, and saddled him,
And sent him out of town.

I gave him some garters,
To garter up his hose,
And a little handkerchief,
To wipe his pretty nose.

I'm Governess

Now children dear, you all come near
And do not make a noise;
But listen here, just take and clear
That desk of all those toys.

For now I'm Governess you'll find,
That its myself will make you mind;
So Alice Brown you do your sum,
And Betty Snooks don't look so glum.

And Sarah White sit down at once,
And Susan Black you are a dunce,
And Annie Grey you needn't think
I didn't see you spill the ink.

And find your thimble Maggie More,
And mind your sewing Jennie Shore;
And Linda Cole you know 'tis wrong
To make a stitch two inches long.

And you Kate Ross, stop pinching there,
Don't scratch! nor pull your sister's hair;
And you, you naughty Lucy Moyes,
Must not be talking to the boys.

And Bridget Mace don't make that face;
And Norah Finn keep your tongue in.
Don't be a Tom-boy Emma Pyke,
You really must act lady-like.

Now I want all good children in my school,
Don't want a single dunce, bad girl or fool,
So I will kindly ask you to be brave,
And try to very, very well behave.

Yes all be good and learn your lessons well,
And then I'll ring the little bell to tell
That school is over for the day,
And you can all run out to play.

Little Governess

Little Nellie Nipkin, brisk, and clean, and neat,
Keeps a little baby-school in the village street;
Teaches little pupils all that she can find,
And keeps a little birch that teaches them to mind.

My Mamma's Maid

Dingty diddledy, My mamma's maid,
She stole oranges, I'm afraid;
Some in her pockets, some in her sleeve,
She stole oranges, I believe.

My Dolly

I have a little doll, I take care of her clothes;
She has soft flaxen hair, and her name is Rose.
She has pretty blue eyes, and a very small nose,
And a funny little mouth, and her name is Rose.

Tommy Snooks

As Tommy Snooks and Bessy Brooks
Were walking out one Sunday,
Says Tommy Snooks to Bessy Brooks,
"To-morrow will be Monday."

Little Betty Blue

Little Betty Blue, lost her left shoe,
What can little Betty do?
Give her another, to match the other,
And then she may walk in two.

Cross Patch

Cross patch, draw the latch,
Sit by the fire and spin;
Take a cup, and drink it up,
Then call your neighbours in.

Jumping Joan

Hinx, minx! the old witch winks,
The fat begins to fry;
There's nobody at home but jumping Joan,
Father, mother, and I.

Princess Lost Her Shoe

Doodle, doodle, doo,
The Princess lost her shoe;
Her highness hopp'd
The fiddler stopp'd
Not knowing what to do.

Hobble Gobble

The girl in the lane that couldn't speak plain,
Cried "Gobble, gobble, gobble;"
The man on the hill that couldn't stand still,
Went "Hobble, hobble, hobble."

Our Girl's Rabbits

Mary, Kate, and Maria went down as agreed,
To the hutch in the garden, the rabbits to feed;
There was the mother, a steady old bunny,
Moving her nose in a manner so funny.

A young rabbit also, tho' seeming to dose,
Kept munching his breakfast and moving his nose;
Mary, Kate, and Maria gave the rabbits some food,
And lovingly stroked them because they were good.

[Page 15--Naughty Girls]

Meddlesome Matty

One ugly trick has often spoiled
The sweetest and the best;
Matilda, though a pleasant child,
One ugly trick possessed,
Which, like a cloud before the skies,
Hid all her better qualities.

Sometimes she'd lift the teapot lid
To peep at what was in it;
Or tilt the kettle, if you did
But turn your back a minute.
In vain you told her not to touch--
Her trick of meddling grew so much.

Her grandma went out one day,
And by mistake she laid
Her spectacles and snuff-box gay
Too near the little maid;
"Ah! well," thought she, "I'll try them on,
As soon as grandmamma is gone,"

Forthwith she placed upon her nose
The glasses large and wide;
And looking round, as I suppose,
The snuff box she too spied:
"Oh! what a pretty box is that;
I'll open it." said little Matt.

"I know grandmamma would say,
'Don't meddle with it, dear;'
But then she's far enough away,
And no one else is near;
Besides, what can there be amiss
In opening such a box as this?"

So thumb and finger went to work
To move the stubborn lid;
And presently a mighty jerk
The mighty mischief did;
For all at once, ah! woeful case,
The snuff came puffing in her face.

Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth beside,
A dismal sight presented;
In vain, as bitterly she cried,
Her folly she repented.
In vain she ran about for ease;
She could do nothing now but sneeze.

She dashed the spectacles away,
To wipe her tingling eyes;
And as in twenty bits they lay,
Her grandmamma she spies.
"Heyday! and what's the matter now?"
Says grandmamma, with lifted brow.

Matilda, smarting with the pain,
And tingling still and sore,
Made many a promise to refrain
From meddling evermore.
And 'tis a fact, as I have heard,
She ever since has kept her word.

The Girl who Spilled the Ink

"Oh! Lucy! Fanny! Make haste here!
Mamma will be so vexed, I fear,
For I've upset the ink!
See, on my frock and pinafore,
Such great black stains! And there are more
Upon my socks, I think."

And Lucy cries, with open eyes,
And hands extended in surprise,
"Oh, naughty Mary Ann,
Those stains can never be washed out;
Whatever have you been about?
Look at her, sister Fan!"

Mamma comes in: "Heyday! what's this?
Why, Mary Ann, I told you, Miss,
The inkstand ne'er to move;
And little girls who won't obey,
And mind each word their parents say,
Good people ne'er will love."

The Naughty Girl

A naughty girl had got no toy,
And didn't know what to do,
So she rumpled her frock
And tore her sock,
And tried to eat her shoe.

The Girl who was Always Tasting

Little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside,
Was known as a taster, far and wide;
Picking and licking, spying and prying,
Each bottle and dish with her fingers trying.
Dangerous practice! dreadful little fact is!
Once almost poisoned, and very near dying.
Little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside,
Has got some poison in paper tied;
Harmless she deems it, yes, she must taste,
Like sugar seems it, ah! but 'tis paste.
Rat's-bane, the mixture. Oh! woe the day!
Run for the doctor, bid him not stay.
Dreadful her anguish--nearly she died,
Did little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside.

Children Stealing Jam

Four naughty little children thought
Some jam they'd try and steal;
But see how nicely they were caught
With a crash that made them squeal.

Their mother who was just next door,
And heard the horrid noise,
Came in and shook those naughty girls,
And whipped those naughty boys.

Sally, the Lazy Girl

Her sister would come to the bedside and call,
"Do you mean to sleep here all the day?"
I saw Kitty Miles up two hours ago,
A-washing and working away.

"The water is boiling, the table is spread,
Your father is just at the door;
If you are not quick, we shall eat all the bread,
And you will not find any more."

Then Sally sat up and half opened her eyes,
And gave both a grunt and a groan;
And yawning she said, in a quarrelsome voice,
"I wish you would let me alone."

But though she was lazy, she always could eat,
And wished for a plentiful share,
So tumbled her clothes on, and smeared her white face,
Forgetting her hands and her hair.

Her frock was all crumpled and twisted away,
Her hair was entangled and wild,
Her stockings were down and her shoes were untied,
She looked a most slovenly child.

She sauntered about till the old village clock
Had sounded and then died away,
Before she put on her torn bonnet and went
To school without further delay.

But soon as she came to the little cake shop,
She loitered with lingering eyes,
Just wishing that she had a penny to spend,
For one of the pretty jam pies.

Again she went on, and she loitered again
In the same foolish way as before,
And the clock in the school was just warning for ten,
As she lifted the latch of the door.

The governess frowned as she went to her place,
She had often so spoken in vain,
And now only said, with a sorrowful sigh,
"There's Sally the latest again!"

She hated her reading, and never would write,
She neither could cypher nor sew,
And little girls whispered, "We never will be
So silly as Miss Sally Slow."

Girl who Wouldn't Comb her Hair

I tell you of a little girl, who would herself have been,
As pretty a young lady as ever could be seen,
But that about her little head she had no cleanly care.
And never, never could be made to brush and comb her hair.

She would have been a pretty child,
But, oh! she was a fright--
She looked just like a girl that's wild,
Yes, quite as ugly, quite;
She looked just like a girl that's wild--
A frightful ugly sight.

The Nasty, Cross Girls

The school was closed one afternoon,
And all the girls were gone;
Some walked away in company,
And some walked on alone.

Some plucked the flowers upon the banks,
Some chatted very fast,
And some were talking secretly,
And whispered as you passed.

And if, perchance, a girl came near,
Then one of these would say,
"Don't listen to our secrets, Miss,
You'll please to go away."

As Nelly White ran home from school,
Her work-bag in her hand,
She chanced to pass near Lucy Bell,
And her friend Susan Brand.

"We don't want you," said Lucy Bell,
"You little tiresome chit;
Our secrets are not meant for you,
You little tell-tale-tit."

Then both girls cried, "Tell-tale-tit,"
And pushed her roughly by;
Poor Nelly said, "I'm no such thing,"
And then began to cry.

[Page 16--Girl's Stories]

Little Red Riding Hood

Once upon a time there was a dear little girl whose mother made her a scarlet cloak with a hood to tie over her pretty head; so people called her (as a pet name) "Little Red Riding-Hood." One day her mother tied on her cloak and hood and said,

"I wish you to go to-day, my darling, to see your grandmamma, and
take her a present of some butter, fresh eggs, a pot of honey,
and a little cake with my love."

Little Red Riding-Hood loved her grandmother, and was very glad to go. So she ran gaily through the wood, gathering wild flowers and gambolling among the ferns as she went; and the birds all sang their sweetest songs to her, and the bluebells nodded their pretty heads, for everything loved the gentle child.

By and by a great hungry Wolf came up to her. He wished to eat her up, but as he heard the woodman Hugh's axe at work close by, he was afraid to touch her, for fear she should cry out and he should get killed. So he only asked her where she was going. Little Red Riding-Hood innocently told him (for she did not know he was a wicked Wolf) that she was going to visit her grandmother, who lived in a cottage on the other side of the wood. Then the Wolf made haste, and ran through the wood, and came to the cottage of which the child had told him. He tapped at the door.

"Who's there?" asked the old woman, who lay sick in bed.

"It is Little Red Riding-Hood, Grandmamma," answered the Wolf in
a squeaky tone, to imitate the voice of her grandchild.

"Pull the string, and the latch will come up," said the old lady,
"for I am ill and cannot open the door."

The cruel Wolf did so, and, jumping on the bed, ate the poor grandmother up.

Then he put on her night-cap and got into bed. By and by Little Red Riding-Hood, who had lingered gathering flowers as she came along, and so was much later than the Wolf, knocked at the door.

"Who's there?" asked the Wolf, mimicking her grandmother's voice.
"It is Little Red Riding-Hood, dear Grandmamma," said the child.
"Pull the string and the latch will come up," said the Wolf.

So Red Riding-Hood came in, and the Wolf told her to put down her basket, and come and sit on the bed. When Little Red Riding-Hood drew back the curtain and saw the Wolf, she began to be rather frightened and said,

"Dear Grandmamma, what great eyes you have got!"
"All the better to see you with, my dear," said the Wolf, who
liked a grim joke.
"And what a large nose you have, Grandmamma!" cried the child.
"All the better to smell you with, my dear."
"And, oh! Grandmamma, what long white teeth you have!"

Alas! she reminded the greedy Wolf of eating.

"All the better to eat you with!" he growled; and, jumping out of
bed, sprang at Red Riding-Hood.

But just at that moment Hugh the woodman, who had seen the sweet child go by, and had followed her, because he knew there was a Wolf prowling about the forest, burst the door open, and killed the wicked animal with his good axe. Little Red Riding-Hood clung round his neck and thanked him, and cried for joy; and Hugh took her home to her mother; and after that she was never allowed to walk in the greenwood by herself.

It was said at first that the Wolf had eaten the child, but that was not the case; and everybody was glad to hear that the first report was not correct, and that the Wolf had not really killed Little Red Riding-Hood.

Little Miss Jewel

Little Miss Jewel
Sat on a stool,
Eating of curds and whey;
There came a little spider
Who sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Jewel away.

Little Girl

Little girl, little girl, where have you been;
Gathering Roses to give to the Queen.
Little girl, little girl, what gave she you?
She gave me a diamond as big as my shoe.

Little Betty Blue

Little Betty Blue lost her pretty shoe;
What can Little Betty do?
Give her another, to match the other,
And then she can walk in two.

I'm Grandmamma

Last night when I was in bed,
Such fun it seemed to me;
I dreamt that I was Grandmamma,
And Grandmamma was me.

But she was such a tiny girl,
And dressed in baby clothes;
And I thought I smacked her face, because
She wouldn't blow her nose.

An I went walking up the street,
And she ran by my side;
And because I walked too quick for her,
My goodness, hoe she cried.

And after tea I washed her face;
And when her prayers were said,
I blew the candle out, and left
Poor Grandmamma in bed.

The Babes In The Wood

A long time ago there lived in an old mansion in the country a rich gentleman and his wife, who had two dear little children, of whom they were very fond. Sad to relate, the gentleman and lady were both taken ill, and, feeling they were about to die, sent for the uncle of the children, and begged him to take care of them till they were old enough to inherit the estates.

Now this uncle was a bad and cruel man, who wanted to take the house, the estates, and the money for himself,--so after the death of the parents he began to think how he could best get rid of the children. For some time he kept them till he claimed for them all the goods that should have been theirs. At last he sent for two robbers, who had once been his companions, and showing them the boy and girl, who were at play, offered them a large sum of money to carry them away and never let him see them more.

One of the two robbers began coaxing the little boy and girl, and asking them if they would not like to go out for a nice ride in the woods, each of them on a big horse. The boy said he should if his sister might go too, and the girl said she should not be afraid if her brother went with her. So the two robbers enticed them away from the house, and, mounting their horses, went off into the woods, much to the delight of the children, who were pleased with the great trees, the bright flowers, and the singing of the birds.

Now, one of these men was not so bad and cruel as the other, and he would not consent to kill the poor little creatures, as the other had threatened he would do. He said that they should be left in the woods to stray about, and perhaps they might then escape. This led to a great quarrel between the two, and at last the cruel one jumped off his horse, saying he would kill them, let who would stand in the way. Upon this the other drew his sword to protect the children, and after a fierce fight succeeded in killing his companion.

But though he had saved them from being murdered, he was afraid to take them back or convey them out of the wood, so he pointed out a path, telling them to walk straight on and he would come back to them when he had bought some bread for their supper; he rode away and left them there all alone, with only the trees, and birds and flowers. They loved each other so dearly, and were so bold and happy, that they were not much afraid though they were both very hungry.

The two children soon got out of the path, which led into the thickest part of the wood, and then they wandered farther and farther into the thicket till they were both sadly tired, but they found some wild berries, nuts and fruits, and began to eat them to satisfy their hunger. The dark night came on and the robber did not return. They were cold, and still very hungry, and the boy went about looking for fresh fruit for his sister, and tried to comfort her as they lay down to sleep on the soft moss under the trees.

The next day, and the next, they roamed about, but there was nothing to eat but wild fruits; and they lived on them till they grew so weak that they could not go far from the tree where they had made a little bed of grass and weeds. There they laid down as the shades of night fell upon them, and in the morning they were both in heaven, for they died there in the forest, and as the sun shone upon their little pale faces, the robins and other birds came and covered their bodies with leaves, and so died and were buried the poor Babes in the Wood.

[Page 17--Girl's Stories]

Cinderella

Cinderella's mother died while she was a very little child, leaving her to the care of her father and her step-sisters, who were very much older than herself; for Cinderella's father had been twice married, and her mother was his second wife. Now, Cinderella's sisters did not love her, and were very unkind to her. As she grew older they made her work as a servant, and even sift the cinders: on which account they used to call her in mockery "Cinderella." It was not her real name, but she became afterwards so well known by it that her proper one has been forgotten.

She was a sweet tempered, good girl, however, and everybody except her cruel sisters loved her. It happened, when Cinderella was about seventeen years old, that the King of that country gave a ball, to which all the ladies of the land, and among the rest the young girl's sisters were invited. So they made her dress them for this ball, but never thought of allowing her to go.

"I wish you would take me to the ball with you, sisters," said
Cinderella, meekly.

"Take you, indeed!" answered the elder sister with a sneer, "it
is no place for a cinder-sifter: stay at home and do your work."

When they were gone, Cinderella, whose heart was sad, sat down and cried; but as she sorrowful, thinking of the unkindness of her sisters, a voice called to her from the garden, and she went to see who was there. It was her godmother, a good old Fairy.

"Do not cry, Cinderella," she said; "you also shall go to the ball,
because you are a kind, good girl. Bring me a large pumpkin."

Cinderella obeyed, and the fairy touched it with her wand, turned it into a grand coach. Then she turned a rat into a coach-man, and some mice into footmen; and touching Cinderella with her wand, the poor girl's rags became a rich dress trimmed with costly lace and jewels, and her old shoes became a charming pair of glass slippers, which looked like diamonds. The fairy told her to go to the ball and enjoy herself, but to be sure and leave the ball-room before the clock struck eleven. "If you do not," she said, "your fine clothes will all turn to rags again.

So Cinderella got into the coach, and drove off with her six footmen behind, very splendid to behold, and arrived at the King's Court, where she was received with delight. She was the most beautiful young lady at the ball, and the Prince would dance with no one else. But she made haste to leave before the hour fixed and had time to undress before her sisters came home. They told her a beautiful Princess had been at the ball, with whom the Prince was delighted. They did not know it was Cinderella herself.

Three times Cinderella went to royal balls in this manner, but the third time she forgot the Fairy's command, and heard eleven o'clock strike. She darted out of the ball-room and ran down stairs in a great hurry. But her dress all turned to rags before she left the palace and she lost one of her glass slippers. The Prince sought for her everywhere, but the guard said no one had passed the gate but a poor beggar girl. However, the prince found the slipper, and in order to discover where Cinderella was gone, he had it proclaimed that he would marry the lady who could put on the glass slipper. All the ladies tried to wear the glass slipper in vain, Cinderella's sisters also, but when their young sister begged to be allowed to try it also, it was found to fit her exactly, and to the Prince's delight, she drew the fellow slipper from her pocket, and he knew at once that she was his beautiful partner at the ball. So she was married to the Prince, and the children strewed roses in their path as they came out of church.

Cinderella forgave her sisters, and was so kind to them that she made them truly sorry for their past cruelty and injustice.

The Three Bears

Once upon a time three bears lived in a nice little house in a great forest.

There was Father Bear, Mother Bear, and Baby Bear.

They had each a bed to sleep in, a chair to sit on, and a basin and a spoon for eating porridge, which was their favourite food.

One morning the three bears went to take a walk before breakfast; but before they went out they poured the hot porridge into their basins, that it might get cool by the time they came back. Mr and Mrs Bear walked arm-in-arm, and Baby Bear ran by their side. Now, there lived in that same forest a sweet little girl who was called Golden Hair. She, also, was walking that morning in the wood, and happening to pass by the bear's house, and seeing the window open, she peeped in.

There was no one to be seen, but three basins of steaming hot porridge all ready to be eaten, seemed to say "Come in and have some breakfast." So Golden Hair went in and tasted the porridge in all the basins, then she sat down in Baby Bear's chair, and took up his spoon, and ate up all his porridge. Now this was very wrong. A tiny bear is only a tiny bear, still he has the right to keep his own things. But Golden Hair didn't know any better.

Unluckily, Baby Bear's chair was too small for her, and she broke the seat and fell through, basin and all.

Then Golden Hair went upstairs, and there she saw three beds all in a row. Golden Hair lay down on Father Bear's bed first, but that was too long for her, then she lay down on Mother Bear's bed, and that was too wide for her, last of all she lay down on Baby Bear's bed, and there she fell asleep, for she was tired.

By-and-by the bears came home, and Old Father Bear looked at his chair, and growled:

"Somebody has been here!"
Mother Bear growled more softly:
"Somebody has been here!"

Baby Bear, seeing his chair broken, squeeled out "Somebody has been here, and broken my chair right through!"

Then they went to the table, and looked at their porridge, and Father Bear Growled:

"Who has touched my basin?"
And Mother Bear growled:
"Who has touched my basin?"
And Baby Bear squeaked:
"Somebody has broken mine and eaten up all my porridge!"
They went upstairs and Father Bear growled:
"Who has been lying on my bed?"
And Mother Bear growled:
"Who has been lying on my bed?"
And Baby Bear squeaked out:
"O! here is a little girl in my bed; and it must be she who has
eaten my breakfast and broken my chair and basin!"
Then Father Bear growled:
"Let us eat her up!"
Then Mother Bear growled:
"Let us eat her up!"
And Tiny Bear squeaked:
"Let us eat her up!"

But the noise they made awoke Golden Hair; she startled out of bed (on the opposite side) and jumped out of the window. The three bears all jumped out after her, but they fell one on the top of the other, and rolled over and over, and while they were picking themselves up, little Golden Hair ran home, and they were not able to catch her.

Bluebeard

Once there lived in a lovely castle a very rich man called Bluebeard. A short distance off lived an old gentleman with two lovely daughters, named Fatima and Annie. Bluebeard visited their house, and at length proposed to Fatima, was accepted by her, and they were married with great splendour. He took her home with him to his castle, and permitted her sister Annie to reside with her for company for a time.

She lived very happily in her new home, her new husband was very kind to her, and allowed her to have everything she wished for, but one day he suddenly told her that business called him away from home, that he should be away some days, and handed her the keys to his wardrobe, treasures, and all parts of the castle, he also gave her one key of a small closet, and told her that she might unlock every door in the castle, but not the closet door, for if she did so, she should not live an hour longer. He then left home fondly kissing her at the door.

Her sister and herself returned into the castle, and enjoyed themselves in unlocking room after room, looking over the curiosities, treasures, &c, until Annie became tired and lay down to rest on a rich sofa, and fell asleep. Fatima, as soon as she saw that her sister was asleep, felt a womanly curiosity, an irresistible temptation to unlock the forbidden closet, and take a peep.

She tripped lightly up to the door, turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and, oh! horror! there were five or six dead ladies lying in the closet, with their marriage rings on their fingers. She at once concluded that they were Bluebeard's previous wives, she let the key drop in her fright into the blood on the floor, she picked it up and attempted to wipe it, but the blood would not come off. She awoke her sister, and they both tried, but they could not get it off, and gave it up in despair.

Just then Bluebeard suddenly returned, and asked his wife if she could please to hand him the keys. She trembling did so. He said "How came the blood on the closet key? You have disobeyed me, and shall die at once."

She begged a few minutes to say her prayers and just as he was going to chop her head off, her two brothers arrived at the castle, burst open the door, killed the cruel wretch, and rescued their sisters.

[Page 18--Girl Land]

My Girl

A little corner with it's crib.
A little mug, a spoon, a bib,
A little tooth so pearly white,
A little rubber-ring to bite.

A little plate all lettered round,
A little rattle to resound,
A little creeping--see! she stands!
A little step 'twixt outstretched hands.

A little doll with flaxen hair.
A little willow rocking chair,
A little dress of richest hue,
A little pair of gaiters blue.

A little school day after day,
A little "schoolma'am" to obey,
A little study--soon 'tis past--
A little graduate at last.

A little muff for wintry weather,
A little jockey-hat and feather,
A little sac with funny pockets,
A little chain, a ring, and lockets.

A little while to dance and bow,
A little escort homeward now,
A little party somewhat late,
A little lingering at the gate.

A little walk in leafy June,
A little talk while shines the moon,
A little reference to papa,
A little planning with mamma.

A little ceremony grave,
A little struggle to be brave,
A little cottage on the lawn,
A little kiss--my girl was gone!

Good and Bad

There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead
When she was good
She was very good,
But when she was bad, she was horrible.

My little Daughter's Shoes

Two little rough-worn, stubbed shoes
A plump, well-trodden pair;
With striped stockings thrust within,
Lie just beside my chair.

Of very homely fabric they,
A hole is in each toe,
They might have cost, when they were new,
Some fifty cents or so.

And yet this little, worn-out pair
Is richer far too me
Than all the jewelled sandals are
Of Eastern luxury.

This mottled leather, cracked with use,
Is satin in my sight;
These little tarnished buttons shine
With all a diamond's light.

Search through the wardrobe of the world!
You shall not find me there
So rarely made, so richly wrought,
So glorious a pair.

And why? Because they tell of her,
Now sound asleep above,
Whose form is moving beauty, and
Whose heart is beating love.

They tell me of her merry laugh;
Her rich, whole-hearted glee;
Her gentleness, her innocence,
And infant purity.

They tell me that her wavering steps
Will long demand my aid;
For the old road of human life
Is very roughly laid.

High hills and swift descents abound;
And, on so rude a way,
Feet that can wear these coverings
Would surely go astray.

Sweet little girl! be mine the task
Thy feeble steps to tend!
To be thy guide, thy counsellor,
Thy playmate and thy friend!

And when my steps shall faltering grow,
And thine be firm and strong,
Thy strength shell lead my tottering age
In cheerful peace along.

The Old Cradle

And this was your cradle?
Why, surely, my Jenny,
Such slender dimensions
Go somewhat to show
You were a delightfully
Small picaninny
Some nineteen or twenty
Short summers ago.

Your baby-day flowed
In a much troubled channel;
I see you as then
In your impotent strife,
A tight little bundle
Of wailing and flannel,
Perplexed with that
Newly-found fardel called Life,

To hint at an infantine
Frailty is scandal;
Let bygones be bygones--
And somebody knows
It was bliss such a baby
To dance and to dandle,
Your cheeks were so velvet,
So rosy your toes.

Ay, here is your cradle,
And Hope, a bright spirit,
With love now is watching
Beside it, I know.
They guard the small nest
You yourself did inherit
Some nineteen or twenty
Short summers ago.

It is Hope gilds the future--
Love welcomes it smiling;
Thus wags this old world,
Therefore stay not to ask,
"My future bids fair,
Is my future beguiling?"
If masked, still it pleases--
Then raise not the mask.

Is life a poor coil
Some would gladly be doffing?
He is riding post-haste
Who their wrongs will adjust;
For at most 'tis a footstep
From cradle to coffin--
From a spoonful of pap
To a mouthful of dust.

Then smile as your future
Is smiling, my Jenny!
Tho' blossoms of promise
Are lost in the rose,
I still see the face
Of my small picaninny
Unchang'd, for these cheeks
Are as blooming as those.

Ay, here is your cradle!
Much, much to my liking,
Though nineteen or twenty
Long winters have sped;
But, hark! as I'm talking
There's six o'clock striking,
It is time Jennie's baby
Should be in its bed.

Frederick Locker

A Little Goose

The chill November day was done,
The working world home a-faring,
The wind came roaring through the streets,
And set the gas lamps flaring.

And hopelessly and aimlessly
The seared old leaves were flying,
When, mingled with the sighing wind,
I heard a small voice crying,

And shivering on the corner stood
A child of four or over;
No hat nor cloak her small soft arms
Or wind-blown curls to cover.

Her dimpled face was stained with tears;
Her round blue eyes ran over;
She crushed within her wee, cold hands
A bunch of faded clover.

And one hand round her treasures,
While she slipped in mine the other,
Half-scared, half-confidential, said
"Oh! please, I want my mother."

"Tell me your street name and number, pet;
Don't cry, I'll take you to it,"
Sobbing, she answered, "I forget--
The organ made me do it."

"He came and played at Miller's steps;
The monkey took the money;
And so I followed down the street,
That monkey was so funny.

I've walked about a _hundred hours_,
From one street to another;
The monkey's gone; I've spoiled my flowers:
Oh! please, I want my mother."

"But what's your mother's name?
And what's the street? now think a minute."
"My mother's name is mamma dear,
The street--I can't begin it."

"But what is strange about the house,
Or new--not like the others?"
I guess you mean my trundle bed--
Mine and my little brother's.

Oh! dear, I ought to be at home,
to help him say his prayers;
He's such a baby, he forgets,
And we are both such players.

"And there's a bar between, to keep
From pitching on each other;
For Harry rolls when he's asleep--
Oh! dear, I want my mother."

The sky grew stormy, people passed,
All muffled, homeward faring;
"You'll have to spend the night with me,"
I said at last, despairing.

I spied a ribbon about her neck.
"What ribbon's this, my blossom?"
"Why, don't you know?" she smiling asked,
And drew it from her bosom.

A card with number, street, and name!
My eyes astonished, met it.
"For," said the little one, "you see
I might some tome forget it.

And so I wear a little thing
That tells you all about it;
For mother says she's very sure
I might get lost without it.

Eliza S. Turner

[Page 19--Girl Land]

Girls

There's the pretty girl,
And the witty girl,
And the girl that bangs her hair;
The girl that's a flirt,
And the girl that is pert,
And the girl with the baby stare.

There's the dowdy girl,
And the rowdy girl,
And the girl that's always late;
There's the girl of style,
And the girl of wile,
And the girl with the mincing gaits

There's the tender girl,
And the well-read girl,
And the girl with the sense of duty
There's the dainty girl
And the fainty girl
And the girl that has no beauty.

There's the lazy girl,
And the daisy girl,
And the girl that has two faces;
There's the girl that's shy,
And the girl that's fly
And the girl that bets on races

There are many others,
Oh! men and brothers,
Than are named in this narration.
There are girls _and_ girls,
Yet they're all of them pearls,
Quite the best sorts in creation.

Girl's Names

There is a strange deformity
Combined with countless graces,
As often in the ladies' names,
As in the ladies faces;
Some names fit for every age,
Some only fit for youth;
Some passing sweet and musical,
Some horribly uncouth;
Some fit for dames of loftiest grades,
Some only fit for scullery maids
Ann is too plain and common,
And Nancy sounds but ill;
Yet Anna is endurable,
And Annie better still,
There is a grace in Charlotte,
In Eleanor a state,
An elegance in Isabel,
A haughtiness in Kate;
And Sarah is sedate and neat,
And Ellen innocent and sweet
Matilda has a sickly sound,
Fit for a nurse's trade;
Sophie is effeminate,
And Esther sage and staid;
Elizabeth's a matchless name,
Fit for a queen to wear
In castle, cottage, hut, or hall--
A name beyond compare;
And Bess, and Bessie follow well,
But Betsy is detestable.
Maria is too forward,
And Gertrude is too gruff,
Yet, coupled with a pretty face,
Is pretty name enough'
And Adelaide is fanciful,
And Laura is too fine,
But Emily is beautiful,
And Mary is divine
Maud only suits a high-born dame,
And Fanny is a baby name
Eliza is not very choice,
Jane is too blunt and Bold,
And Martha somewhat sorrowful,
And Lucy proud and cold;
Amelia is too light and gay,
Fit for only a flirt;
And Caroline is vain and shy,
And Flora smart and pert;
Louisa is too soft and sleek
But Alice--gentle, chaste and meek
And Harriet is confiding,
And Clara grave and mild.
And Emma is affectionate,
And Janet arch and wild!
And Patience is expressive,
And Grace is cold and rare,
And Hannah warm and dutiful,
And Margaret frank and fair
And Faith, and Hope and Charity
Are heavenly names for sisters three.

Sarah

Oh, Sarah mine, hark to my song
Your slumbers soft invading.
For here beneath your window-sill
I come a-Sarah-nading.

You know my fond heart beats for you
In tenderest adoration,
And then, you know, I long to have
You be my own Sal-vation.

The day's not far when you'll be mine--
The thought makes my soul merry;
You'll be the pride of all my life,
But not my adver-Sarey.

The tender fates shall crown your lot,
And sweet contentment parcel;
And while you're just the world to me,
Love will be univer-Sal.

With bridal altar draped with flowers
And everything so tony,
In crowded church we will be wed
With lots of Sarah-money.

There's nothing I'll not do for you
Till life comes to an end, dear.
I'd brave the battles of the world
And fight a Sara-cen, dear.

I must to sleep, Sal, soda you,
For here I must not dally,
For that bull-dog I hear, like me,
Is bound to have a Sally.

Several Kinds of Girls

A good girl to have--Sal Vation.
A disagreeable girl--Anna Mosity.
A fighting girl--Hittie Magginn.
Not a Christian girl--Hettie Rodoxy.
A sweet girl--Carrie Mel.
A pleasant girl--Jennie Rosity.
A sick girl--Sallie Vate.
A smooth girl--Amelia Ration.
A seedy girl--Cora Ander.
One of the best girls--Ella Gant.
A clear case of girl--E. Lucy Date.
A geometrical girl--Rhoda Dendron.
A musical girl--Sarah Nade.
A profound girl--Mettie Physics.
A star girl--Meta Oric.
A clinging girl--Jessie Mine.
A nervous girl--Hester Ical.
A muscular girl--Callie Sthenici.
A lively girl--Anna Mation.
An uncertain girl--Eva Nescent.
A sad girl--Ella G.
A serene girl--Molly Fy.
A great big girl--Ella Phant.
A warlike girl--Millie Tary.
The best girl of all--Your Own.

[Page 20--Girl Land]

Jumping-Jennie

Jennie has a jumping-rope
As slender as a whip.
And all about the street and house
She'd skip, and skip, and skip.

She knocked the vases from the shelf,
Upset the stools and chairs,
And one unlucky day, alas!
Went headlong down the stairs.

Against the wall, against the door
Her head she often bumped,
And stumbled here, and stumbled there,
Yet still she jumped, and jumped.

She jumped so high, she jumped so hard,
That--so the story goes--
She wore her shoes and stockings out,
Likewise her heels and toes.

I Don't Care

Matilda was a pretty girl,
And she had flaxen hair;
And yet she used those naughty words
"I'm sure I do not care."

She once her lessons would not learn,
But talk'd about the fair,
And lost her tickets, but she said,
"I'm sure I do not care."

As she advanced to riper years,
I'm sorry to declare,
She still preserved those naughty words,
"I'm sure I do not care."

She grew a woman, and for life
'Twas time she should prepare,
But still she said "there's time enough,
If not, I do not care."

Duties neglected, warnings spurn'd,
Her mother in despair;
And though she saw the evil done,
She said, "I do not care."

Still on she went from bad to worse,
She spurned her father's prayer;
Who feared she'd find an awful end,
Because she would not care.

Afflictions came, and death in view,
Which filled her with despair;
Her God neglected, and she feared
For her He would not care.

Could you have then Matilda seen,
Or heard her broken prayer,
She urged her friends never to use
Those awful words--Don't Care.

Little Miss Meddlesome

Little Miss Meddlesome
Scattering crumbs,
Into the library
Noisily comes--
Twirls off her apron,
Tilts open some books,
And into a work-basket
Rummaging, looks.

Out goes the spools spinning
Over the floor,
Beeswax and needle-case
Stepped out before;
She tosses the tape-rule
And plays with the floss,
And says to herself,
"Now won't mamma be cross!"

Little Miss Meddlesome
Climbs to the shelf,
Since no-one is looking,
And mischievous elf,
Pulls down the fine vases,
The cuckoo-clock stops,
And sprinkles the carpet
With damaging drops.

She turns over the ottoman,
Frightens the bird,
And sees that the chairs
In a medley are stirred;
Then creeps on the sofa,
And, all in a heap,
Drops out of her
Frolicsome mischief asleep.

But here comes the nurse,
Who is shaking her head,
And frowns at the mischief
Asleep on her bed.
But let's hope when Miss Meddlesome's
Slumber is o'er,
She may wake from good dreams
And do mischief no more.

Careless Matilda

"Again, Matilda,
Is your work astray,
Your thimble is gone!
Your scissors, where are they?

Your needles, pins, your thread,
And tapes all lost--
Your housewife here,
And there your work-bag tost.

Fie, fie, my child!
Indeed this will not do,
Your hair uncomb'd,
Your frock in tatters too;

I'm now resolv'd
No more delays to grant,
This day I'll send you
To your stern old aunt."

In vain Matilda wept,
Repented, pray'd,
In vain a promise
Of amendment made.

Arriv'd at Austere Hall,
Matilda sigh'd.
By Lady Rigid,
When severely eyed.

"You read, and write,
And work well, as I'm told,
Are gentle, kind, good-natur'd,
Far from bold.

But very careless,
Negligent, and wild--
When you leave me,
You'll be a different child."

The little girl
Next morn a favour asks:
"I wish to take a walk,"
"Go learn your tasks,"

The lady harsh replies,
"Nor cry nor whine.
Your room you leave not
Till you're call'd to dine."

As thus Matilda sat,
O'erwhelm'd with shame,
A dame appear'd,
Disorder was her name.

Her hair and dress neglected,
Soil'd her face,
She squinted leer'd,
And hobbled in her pace.

"Here, child," she said,
"My mistress sends you this,
A bag of silks--
A flow'r not work'd amiss--

A polyanthus bright,
And wondrous gay;
You'll copy it by noon,
She bade me say."
Disorder grinn'd,
Then shuffling walk'd away.

Entangled were
The silks of every hue,
Confus'd and mix'd
Were shades of pink, green, blue;

She took a thread,
Compar'd it with the flow'r;
"To finish this is
Not within my pow'r.

Well-order'd silks
Had Lady Rigid sent,
I might have work'd,
If such was her intent."

She sigh'd, and melted
Into sobs and tears,
She hears a noise
And at the door appears

A pretty maiden, clean,
Well-dress'd, and neat
Her voice was soft,
Her looks sedate, yet sweet.

"My name is Order,
Do not cry my love;
Attend to me,
And thus you may improve."

She took the silks,
And drew out shade for shade,
In sep'rate skeins,
Each hue with care she laid;
Then smiling kindly,
Left the little maid.

Matilda now resumed
Her sweet employ,
And sees the flow'r complete--
How great her joy.

She leaves the room,
"I've done my task," she cries.
But soon her harshness
The lady look'd
With disbelieving eyes,
Chang'd to glad surprise.

"Why this is well!
A very pretty flow'r,
Work'd clean, exact,
And done within the hour!

And now amuse yourself,
Ride, walk or play."
Thus passed Matilda
This much-dreaded day.

At all her tasks
Disorder would attend
At all her tasks
Still Order stood her friend.

With tears and sighs
Her studies oft began,
These into smiles
Were changed by Order's plan;

No longer Lady Rigid
Seem'd severe,
Her looks the negligent
Alone need fear.

And when the day
The wish'd-for day is come
When young Matilda's
Suffer'd to go home:

"You quit me, child,
But oft to mind recall
The time you spent
With me at Austere Hall.

And now, my dear,
I'll give you one of these,
Your servant she will be;
Take which you please."

"From me," Disorder asked,
"Old friend, why start?"
Matilda clasped
Sweet Order to her heart.
"My dearest girl," she cried,
"We'll never part."

[Page 21--Girl Land]

Forty Little School Girls

Forty little school girls, running, but not flirty;
Ten ran into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but thirty.

Thirty little school girls swimming the river Plenty;
Ten swam into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but twenty.

Twenty little school girls jumping in velveteen;
One jumped into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were nineteen.

Nineteen little school girls going out a-skating;
One skated into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but eighteen.

Eighteen little school girls dancing with the queen;
One danced into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were seventeen.

Seventeen little school girls driving a bullock team;
One drove into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were sixteen.

Sixteen little school girls creeping out unseen;
One crept into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were fifteen.

Fifteen little school girls hopping on the green;
One hopped into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were fourteen.

Fourteen little schoolgirls floating down a stream;
One floated into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were thirteen.

Thirteen little school girls leaping out to delve;
One leaped into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but twelve.

Twelve little school girls racing out for leaven;
One raced into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were eleven.

Eleven little school girls dodging a lion when--
One dodged into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but ten.

Ten little school girls, all skipping in a line;
One skipped into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but nine.

Nine little school girls swinging on a gate;
One swung into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but eight.

Eight little school girls, trying to fly to heaven;
One flew into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but seven.

Seven little school girls tripping out for sticks;
One tripped into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but six.

Six little school girls, going for a dive;
One dived into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but five.

Five little school girls, sailing to explore;
One sailed into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but four.

Four little school girls steaming on the sea;
One steamed into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but three.

Three little school girls, riding on a moo;
One rode into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there were but two.

Two little school girls, sliding about for fun;
One slid into Cole's Book Arcade,
And then there was but one.

One little school girl, the nicest, last and best,
She walked into Cole's Book Arcade,
And read books with all the rest.

The following is the way that each girl went into Cole's Book Arcade:

Ada ran into it.
Agnes ran into it.
Alice ran into it.
Amy ran into it.
Annie ran into it.
Angelina ran into it.
Bessie ran into it.
Bridget ran into it.
Carrie ran into it.
Clara ran into it.
Edith swam into it.
Eliza swam into it.
Emily swam into it.
Emma swam into it.
Fanny swam into it.
Florence swam into it.
Hannah swam into it.
Harriet swam into it.
Jane swam into it.
Jessie swam into it.
Kate jumped into it.
Lillie skated into it.
Lizzie danced into it.
Lottie drove into it.
Louisa crept into it.
Lucy hopped into it.
Mary floated into it.
Martha leaped into it.
Matilda raced into it.
Maggie dodged into it.
Maria skipped into it.
Mabel swung into it.
Maude flew into it.
May tripped into it.
Minnie dived into it.
Nellie sailed into it.
Olive Steamed into it.
Rose rode into it.
Sarah slid into it.
Tottie walked into it.