Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

About five or six months after, Jack was journeying through Wales, when, losing his way, he could find no place of entertainment, and was about giving up all hopes of obtaining shelter during the night when he came to a gate, and, on knocking, to his utter astonishment it was opened by a Giant, who did not seem so fierce as the others. Jack told him his distress, when the Giant invited him in, and, after giving him a hearty supper, showed him to bed. Jack had scarcely got into bed when he heard the Giant muttering to himself:

"Though you lodge with me this night,
You shall not see the morning light;
My club shall dash your brains out quite."

"Oh, Mr. Giant, is that your game?" said Jack to himself; "then I shall try and be even with you." So he jumped out of bed and put a large lump of wood there instead. In the middle of the night the Giant went into the room, and thinking it was Jack in the bed, he belaboured the wood most unmercifully; he then left the room, laughing to think how he had settled poor Jack. The following morning Jack went boldly into the Giant's room to thank him for the night's lodging. The Giant was startled at his appearance, and asked him how he slept, or if anything had disturbed him in the night? "Oh, no," says Jack, "nothing worth speaking about: I believe that a rat gave me a few slaps with his tail, but, being rather sleepy, I took no notice of it." The Giant wondered how Jack survived the terrific blows of his club, yet did not answer a word, but went and brought in two monstrous bowls of hasty pudding, placed one before Jack, and began eating the other himself. Determined to be revenged on the Giant somehow, Jack unbuttoned his leather provision bag inside his coat, and slyly filling it with hasty pudding, said, "I'll do what you can't." So saying, he took up a large knife, and ripping up the bag, let out the hasty pudding. The Giant, determined not to be outdone, seized hold of the knife, and saying, "I can do that," instantly ripped up his belly, and fell down dead on the spot.

After this Jack fought and conquered many giants, married the king's daughter and lived happily.

Jack and the Beanstalk

At some distance from London, in a small village, lived a widow and her son, whose name was Jack. He was a bold, daring fellow, ready for any adventure which promised fun or amusement. Jack's mother had a cow, of which she was very fond, and which, up to this time, had been their chief support. But as she had for some time past been growing poorer every year, she felt that now she must part with the cow. So she told Jack to take the cow to be sold, and he was to be sure to get a good round sum for her. On the road to market Jack met a butcher, who was carrying in his hat some things which Jack thought to be very pretty. The butcher saw how eagerly Jack eyed his beans, and said, "If you want to sell your cow, my fine fellow, I will give you this whole hatful of beans in exchange for her."

Jack was delighted; he seized the hat, and ran back home. Jack's mother was surprised to see him back so soon, and at once asked him for the money. But when Jack said he had sold the cow for a hatful of beans, she was so angry that she opened the window and threw them all out into the garden. When Jack rose up next morning he found that one of the beans had taken root, and had grown up, up, up, until its top was quite lost in the clouds. Jack resolved instantly to mount the Beanstalk. So up, up, up, he went till he had reached the very top. Looking round he saw at a distance a large house. Tired and weary, he crawled towards it and knocked on the door. The door was opened by a timid looking woman who started when she saw him, and besought him to run away as her husband was a cruel Giant who would eat him up if he found him there. But Jack begged so earnestly to be admitted that the woman, who was very kind-hearted, had pity on him, and so she brought him into the kitchen, and set before him on a table some bread, meat, and ale. Jack ate and drank, and soon felt quite refreshed. Presently the woman started and said, "My husband! quick, quick! he comes--he comes!" and opened the door to the oven and bid Jack jump in. The Giant was in a dreadful passion when he came in, and almost killed his wife by a blow which he aimed at her. He then began to sniff and smell--at last he roared out:

"Fee, fa, fi, fo, fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishman!
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make me bread!"

His wife gave him an evasive answer, and proceeded to lay before him his supper. When the Giant could swallow no more, he called out to his wife to bring him his hen, which, after being brought, whenever the Giant said "Lay," the hen laid a golden egg. The Giant soon fell asleep, and Jack crept out softly and seized the hen, and made off without disturbing the Giant. Away ran Jack till he came to the Beanstalk; he was much sooner at the bottom of it now than at the top in the morning; and running to his mother he told all his adventure.

The hen laid as many golden eggs as Jack liked, and his mother before long had another cow and everything which she desired. A second time Jack climbed the Beanstalk, when he ran away with the Giant's bag of money. A third time Jack climbed the Beanstalk, and again gained admission to the Giant's house. He saw the Giant's wife, and asked her for a night's lodging. She at first said she could not let him into the house, but Jack begged so hard that at last she consented, and gave him some supper and put him to sleep in the copper boiler near the kitchen fireplace, where she thought the Giant would not find him.

When the Giant came in, his good nose served him in a moment: for he cried out "I smell fresh meat." Jack laughed at this, but it was no laughing matter; for the Giant looked all around the room, and even put his finger on the lid of the copper, till it seemed as if a stone of a hundredweight had fallen upon the lid. Just then his wife came in with a whole roasted bullock smoking hot, which the Giant sat down and ate for his supper, and then went down into the cellar, and drank about six gallons of Jamaica rum. The Giant now sat down and went to sleep, and Jack tried to run away with his golden harp, an instrument which, when the Giant said "play," played the most beautiful tunes. Now the harp was a fairy, and as soon as he touched it, it called out "Master! Master!" so loud that the Giant awoke, but he was some time before he could understand what was the matter. He tried to run after Jack, but Jack got to the top of the beanstalk first. When he had descended a little way he looked up, and how great was his horror to see the huge hand of the Giant stretched down to seize him by the hair of the head! He slid and scrambled down the Beanstalk, hardly knowing how, and seeing the Giant just putting his feet over the top, he called out, "Quick, mother! A hatchet, a hatchet!" Jack seized it and chopped away at the beanstalk, when down it fell, bringing along with it the Giant. Jack instantly cut off his head. After this Jack and his mother lived very happily, and Jack was a great comfort to her in her old age.

[Page 33--Boy Land]

Hop O' My Thumb

Once upon a time there was a woodman and his wife who had so many children that they did not know how to find food for them. So one night, when they were all in bed, the father told his wife that he thought they had better take them into the forest and lose them there. The youngest child, who was so very small that he was called Hop o' my Thumb, overheard his father, and as he was a very clever boy he made up his mind to find his way home again. So he went down to the brook very early the next morning, and filled his pocket with large smooth pebbles as white as snow. Bye-and-bye the woodman and his wife told the children that they might go with them into the wood to have a good game of play. They were all glad except Hop o' my Thumb who knew what his father intended. So they set out; the woodman and his wife first, then the boys, and last Hop o' my Thumb, who sprinkled pebbles all the way they went.

They spent a merry day; but bye-and-bye the parents stole away, and left the children all by themselves. They were very much frightened when they missed their father and mother, and called loudly for them; but when Hop o' my Thumb told them what he had heard, and how they could find their way home by following the track of the pebbles, which marked the way they had come, they set out, and reached home safely, and their father and mother pretended to be very glad to see them back.

But soon after they again resolved to lose their children, if possible, in the forest. This time all the boys feared that they should be left behind, and the eldest brother said he would take some peas to sprinkle, to mark the pathway that led home. By-and-bye the cruel parents stole away, and left the little ones in the dark wood. At first they did not care, for they thought that they could easily find their way home; but, alas! when they looked for the line of peas which they had sprinkled, they found they were all gone--the wood-pigeons had eaten them up, and the children were lost in the wood. Holding each-others' hands and crying sadly they walked on to seek a place to sleep in. By-and-bye they came to a giant's castle, where they were taken in, and told that they might sleep in the nursery with the seven baby daughters of the giant, who were lying all in a row in one bed, with gold crowns on their heads. Hop o' my Thumb thought it was strange that the giant should be so kind, as he had been told that the ogres eat children. So in the night he got up softly and took off the little giantesses' crowns and put them on his brothers' heads and his own, and lay down again. It was lucky for him that he did so, for in the night the giant came up in the dark to kill the boys, that they might be ready for the next day's breakfast. He felt the beds, and finding the crowns on the boy's heads took them for his own children, left them and went to the other bed and cut off the heads of his daughters instead. Then he went back to bed. Directly he was gone, Hop o' my Thumb and his brothers got up, stole down stairs, opened the door and fled away from the castle. But they did not go far. Hop o' my Thumb knew that the giant would come after them in his seven-league boots. So they got into a hole in the side of a hill and hid. Very soon after, they saw the giant coming at a great pace in his wonderful boots; but he took such long steps that he passed right over their heads. They were afraid to move out till they had seen him go home again. So they remained quietly where they were.

By-and-bye the giant, who had been many miles in an hour, came back tired, and lay down on the hill-side and fell asleep. Then Hop o' my Thumb got out of the hole, and pulled off the giant's seven-league boots, and put them on his own feet. They fitted him exactly, for being fairy boots they would grow large or small just as one liked. He then got his brothers out of the hole, took them in his boots, marched for home, and although it was a great distance, got there in almost no time, but when he arrived at the house his father and mother were not there. He then hastened to make inquiries for them, and found they had been suspected of murdering their children,--who had all disappeared suddenly--that they had owned to leaving them in the wood, and that they were to be put to death for their crime. "We must go and save them," he said. So he took his brothers into the seven-league boots, and set out to the place where their parents were in prison. They arrived only just in time, for the guards were bringing out the woodsman and his wife to put them to death. Hop o' my Thumb took off the boors, and all the children called out, "We are alive! we are alive! Do not kill our mother and father."

Then there was great joy. The woodman and his wife were set free, and embraced their children. They had repented their wickedness, and were never unkind and cruel any more; and Hop o' my Thumb kept them all in comfort by going on errands for the king in his seven-league boots.

Tom Thumb

In the days of good King Arthur there lived a ploughman and his wife who wished very much to have a son; so the man went to Merlin, the enchanter, and asked him to let him have a child, even, if it were "_no bigger than his thumb._" "Go home and you will find one," said Merlin; and when the man came back to his house he found his wife nursing a very, very, wee baby, who in four minutes grew to the size of the ploughman's thumb, and never grew any more. The fairy queen came to his christening and named him "Tom Thumb." She then dressed him nicely in a shirt of spider's web, and a doublet and hose of thistledown.

One day, while Tom's mother was making a plum-pudding, Tom stood on the edge of the bowl, with a lighted candle in his hand, that she might see to make it properly. Unfortunately, however, while her back was turned, Tom fell into the bowl, and his mother not missing him, stirred him up in the pudding, and put it and him into the pot. Tom no sooner felt the hot water than he danced about like man; the woman was nearly frightened out of her wits to see the pudding come out of the pot and jump about, and she was glad to give it to a tinker who was passing that way.

The tinker was delighted with his present; but as he was getting over a style, he happened to sneeze very hard, and Tom called out from the middle of the pudding, "Hallo, Pickens!" which so terrified the tinker that he threw the pudding into the field, and scampered away as fast as he could. The pudding tumbled to pieces in the fall, and Tom, creeping out, went home to his mother, who was in great affliction because she could not find him. A few days afterwards Tom went with his mother into the fields to milk the cows, and for fear he should be blown away by the wind, she tied him to a thistle with a small piece of thread. Very soon after a cow ate up the thistle and swallowed Tom Thumb. His mother was in sad grief again; but Tom scratched and kicked in the cow's throat till she was glad to throw him out of her mouth again.

One day Tom Thumb went ploughing with his father, who gave him a whip made of barley straw, to drive the oxen with; but an eagle, flying by, caught him up in his beak, and carried him to the top of a great giant's castle. The giant would have eaten Tom up; but the fairy dwarf scratched and bit his tongue and held on by his teeth till the giant in a passion took him out again and threw him into the sea, when a very large fish swallowed him up directly. The fish was caught soon after and sent as a present to King Arthur, and when the cook opened it there was Tom Thumb inside. He was carried to the king, who was delighted with the little man.

The king ordered a little chair to be made, in order that Tom might sit on his table, and also a palace of gold a span high, with a door an inch wide, for little Tom to live in. He also gave him a coach drawn by six small mice.

This made the queen angry, because she had no a new coach too; therefore, resolving to ruin Tom, she complained to the king that he had spoken insolently to her. The king sent for him. Tom, to escape his fury, crept into an empty snail shell, and lay there till he was almost starved; when peeping out of the shell he saw a fine butterfly settled on the ground: he now ventured out, and getting on it, the butterfly took wing, and mounted into the air with little Tom on his back. Away he flew from field to field, from tree to tree, till at last he flew to the king's court. The king, queen, and nobles all strove to catch the butterfly but could not. At length poor Tom, having neither bridle or saddle, slipped from his seat and fell into a pool of water, where he was found nearly drowned. The queen vowed he should be beheaded, and while the scaffold was getting ready, he was secured in a mouse-trap; when the cat seeing something stir supposing it to be a mouse, patted the trap about till she broke it, and set Tom at liberty.

Sometimes Tom rode out on a mouse for a horse. One day a big black met him along the road, and wanted to kill the mouse. Tom jumped off the mouse's back, drew his sword, and fought the cat, and made her run away.

In order to show his courage and please the queen, the new knight undertook a terrible adventure.

In one corner of the palace garden there was found a great black spider, of which the lady was very much afraid.

Tom undertook to kill this insect; so he took a gold button for a shield, and his sharp needle-sword, and went out to attack the spider; the knights went also, to witness the combat.

Tom drew his sword and fought valiantly, but the spider's poisonous breath overcame him.

King Arthur and his whole Court went into mourning for little Tom Thumb. They buried him under a rose-bush, and raised a nice white marble monument over his grave.

[Page 34--Naughty Boys]

Mr. Brown, the grocer, having nearly emptied a cask of sugar in front of his shop, a number of naughty boys, seeing his back turned, commenced to steal some. Mr. Brown, spying them through the window, came out, and the reader can see what happened--A bystander informs us that muttered howls of agony arose from the cask, and all the boys' interest in sugar was at an end.

Boy Who Stole Out Without Leave

I remember, I remember,
When I was a little Boy,
One fine morning in September
Uncle brought me home a toy.

I remember how he patted
Both my cheeks in his kindliest mood;
"Then," said he, "you little Fat-head,
There's a top because you're good."

Grandmamma--a shrewd observer--
I remember gazed upon
My new top, and said with fervour,
"Oh! how kind of Uncle John."

While mamma, my form caressing--
In her eyes the tear-drop stood,
Read me this fine moral lesson,
"See what comes of being good."

I remember, I remember,
On a wet and windy day,
One cold morning in December,
I stole out and went to play.

I remember Billy Hawkins
Came, and with his pewter squirt
Squibbed my pantaloons and stockings
Till they were all over dirt.

To my mother for protection
I ran, quaking every limb;
She exclaim'd, with fond affection,
"Gracious goodness! look at him!"

Pa cried, when he saw my garment,
'Twas a newly purchased dress--
"Oh! you nasty little varment,
How came you in such a mess?"

Then he caught me by the collar,
--Cruel only to be kind--
And to my exceeding dolour,
Gave me--several slaps behind.

Grandmamma, while I yet smarted,
As she saw my evil plight,
Said--'twas rather stony-hearted--
"Little rascal! serve him right!"

I remember, I remember,
From that sad and solemn day,
Never more in dark December
Did I venture out to play.

And the moral which they taught, I
Well remember: thus they said--
"Little Boys, when they are naughty,
Must be whipp'd and sent to bed!"

[Page 35--Boy Land]

Dirty Jack

There was one little Jack,
Not very long back,
And 't is said to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With his hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face.

His friends were much hurt
To see so much dirt
And often and well did they scour,
But all was in vain,
He was dirty again
Before they had done it an hour.

When to wash he was sent,
He reluctantly went
With water to splash himself o'er,
But he left the black streaks
Running down both his cheeks,
And made them look worse than before.

The pigs in the dirt
Could not be more expert
Than he was, in grubbing about;
And people have thought
This gentleman ought
To be made with four legs and a snout.

The idle and bad
May, like to this lad,
Be dirty and black, to be sure.
But good boys are seen
To be decent and clean,
Although they be ever so poor.

Throwing Stones

Johnny Jones, why do you do it?
Those who throw stones
Surely will rue it;
Little of pleasure, evil may flow,
Mischief past measure comes of a blow.

Yes, yes! stone flinging.
Laugh as you may,
Woe may be bringing
Upon you some day.

Someone is watching,
Armed by the law,
Truncheon from pocket
Soon he will draw.
Off he will march you--
Dreadful to think!--to a dark prison:
Light through a chink,
Bread without butter, water for drink.

Dirty Dick

Dirty, noisy, mischievous Dick,
Struggled and tore, and wanted to fight
Susan, the nurse, who in the bath
Began to wash him on Saturday night.

Her hair he tried to pull up by the roots,
The water he splashed all over the floor,
Which ran downstairs, and one night made
A terrible slop at the parlour door.

To give him advice was a waste of time,
So his father resolved to try a stick,
And never since then has he been called
Dirty, noisy, mischievous Dick.

Boy That Stole the Apples

A boy looked over a wall,
And spied some lovely apples;
"But," says he "the tree is tall,
And belongs to 'Grumpie Chapples!'
Still, I think some could be got
By a climbing lad like me:
I'll try and steal a lot,
So here goes up the tree."

The wall he then got over,
And up the tree he went;
But Chapples, mowing clover,
Espied the wicked gent.
He let him fill his school-bag--
Get over the wall again;
Rushed up and played at touch-tag,
Which surprised him much, and then:--

_Look at the Picture!!!_

Mischievous Fingers

Pretty little fingers,
Wherefore were they made?
Like ten smart young soldiers,
All in pink arrayed.

Apt and quick obedient
To your lightest thought,
Doing in an instant
Everything they're taught.

'T was for play or study,
Pen to wield or ball;
Kite, top, needle, pencil,
Prompt at parents' call.

Picking, poking, soiling
Costly things and dear,
Wrecking, cracking, spoiling
All that they come near.

Thus 't was with Robert Chivers,
Brandishing a swish,
Broke a vase to shivers
Filled with silver fish.

"Tick, tick" says the Dutch clock.
Robert fain would know
How it's pendulum swinging
Made it's wheels go.

Who not ask? No! foolish
Robert takes a stick,
Pokes and breaks the clock, which
Ceases soon to tick.

"Puff, puff," sighs the bellows.
Robert wants to find,
Yet he will not ask, whence
Comes it's stock of wind.

With a knife upripping,
Finds them void and flat.
Ah! be sure a whipping
Robert caught for that.

The Boy who Played with Fire

Listen about a naughty boy
Who might have been a parent's joy,
But that he had a strong desire
To always meddle with fire.

One day when his mamma went out,
She said "Mind, dear, what you're about:
With your nice books and playthings stay,
And with the fire, oh! do not play."

But as soon as his mamma was gone,
And this bad boy left all alone,
Thought he, "In spite of all ma says,
Now we'll have a glorious blaze.

"No one is by, 't is quickly done,
And oh! 't will be such famous fun."
Quick then about the hearth he strewed
Some scraps of paper and of wood.

Then lighted them and drew them out,
And with them, laughing, ran about.
But soon he changed his merry note--
The flames, alas, had caught his coat,
And every moment, mounting higher,
His body soon was all on fire;
And though he screamed with shriek and shout,
No one came near to put it out:
So it happened, sad to say,
That boy was burned to death that day.

[Page 36]

Wicked Willie

Willie was a wicked boy,
Snubbed his poor old mother;
Willie was a dreadful boy,
Quarrelled with his brother;
Willie was a spiteful boy,
Often pinched his sister,
Once he gave her such a blow,
Raised a great big blister!

Willy was a sulky boy,
Sadly plagued his cousins,
Often broke folks' window panes,
Throwing stones by dozens,
Often worried little girls,
Bullied smaller boys,
Often broke their biggest dolls,
Jumped upon their toys.

If he smelled a smoking tart,
Willie longed to steal it;
If he saw a pulpy peach,
Willie tried to peel it;
Could he reach a new plum-cake,
Greedy Willie picked it,
If he spied a pot of jam,
Dirty Willie licked it.

If he saw a poor old dog,
Wicked Willie whacked it;
If it had a spot of white,
Silly Willy blacked it,
If he saw a sleeping cat,
Horrid Willie kicked it;
If he caught a pretty moth,
Cruel Willie pricked it.

If his pony would not trot,
Angry Willie thrashed it;
If he saw a clinging snail,
Thoughtless Willie smashed it;
If he found a sparrow's nest,
Unkind Willie hit it.
All the mischief ever done,
Folks knew Willie did it.

No one liked that horrid boy,
Can you wonder at it?
None who saw his ugly head,
Ever tried to pat it.
No one ever took him for a ride--
Folks too gladly skipped him.
No one ever gave him bats or balls,
No one ever "tipped" him.

No one taught him how to skate,
Or to play at cricket;
No one helped him if he stuck
In a prickly thicket.
Oh no! for the boys all said
Willie loved to tease them,
And that if he had the chance,
Willie would not please them.

And they shunned him every one,
And they would not know him,
And their games and picture-books
They would never show him,
And their tops they would not spin,
If they saw him near them,
And they treated him with scorn
Till he learned to fear them.

They all left him to himself,
And he was so lonely,
But of course it was his fault,
Willie's own fault only.
If a boy's a wicked boy,
Shy of him folks fight then,
If it makes him dull and sad,
Why, it serves him right then!

This is the Naughty Boy
who would go making Mud
Pies, and get his nice new
clothes all over mud.

He said he would be Good,
but he got into the mud,
and was a Naughty, Bad,
Bad Boy!!!

The Wicked, Rude, Bad, Naughty, Cross, Nasty, Bold, Dirty-faced Boy

Boys, stop your noise! Girls, stop your jumping and skipping!
While I tell you about a bad boy, who often deserves a whipping.
If this boy to you were named, to speak to him you'd feel ashamed,
So to-day I'll only say--He's a wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross,
nasty, bold, dirty-faced boy!

I won't tell you his age, nor the colour of his hair,
Nor say anything about the clothes he sometimes does wear;
You never see them neat and clean, and seldom without a tear,
Because--He's a wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold,
dirty-faced boy!

If he's sent on a message, such a long time he stops,
To pelt stones at Chinamen, and stare in the shops;
Running behind drays, and wastes time so many ways,
That when he gets home his mother says--
Oh you wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold, dirty-faced
boy!

If his mother gives him lolly, cake, piece of beef or mutton,
In a corner he'll eat it by himself, he's such a nasty, greedy
glutton.
And he'll smug from his playmates a marble, top or button,
That scarcely any one can with him have any fun,
Because--He's a wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold,
dirty-faced boy!

He's been going to school for years, I can't tell you how long,
If you ask him to spell three words, two are sure to be wrong;
If you saw the dirty books and broken slate which to him belong,
You'd easily guess from such a mess that--
He's a wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold, dirty-faced
boy!

You can't believe a word he says, he tells so many lies.
He's such a coward, he'll only hit a girl or boy much less than his
size,
But if he gets a blow himself, he howls, bawls, yelps, and cries,
That anyone who sees him never tries to please him,
Because--He's a wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold,
dirty-faced boy!

He won't play any game without being always cheating,
I often wonder how he so many times escapes a beating,
And he never says grace before or after eating.
He's scarcely better in the least than a brute beast,
Because--He's a wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold,
dirty-faced boy!

What school he goes to at present I won't tell,
But I mean to watch him, and if he don't mind and behave well,
I'll go to every school and ring a little bell,
I'll make a great noise, and show all the girls and boys
This wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold, dirty-faced
boy!

[Page 37]

Little Chinkey Chow-Chow
(The Boy That Ran Away)

There was a little Chinese Boy,
That ran away from home--
"Ha! ha!" he said, "I'll see the world
And through the streets I'll roam.

"I won't go any more to school,
Or go so soon to bed,
Nor yet be scolded if I choose
To stand upon my head."

So little Chinkey ran away,
His tail flew in the wind;
He thought not of his good mamma
Who was so very kind:

He knew she could not follow him
Along the crowded street,
Because mammas in China have
Such very tiny feet.

Now, as he went along he saw
Such strange and lovely sights,
Such pretty painted houses--
Such tops! and oh! such kites!

He saw so many gilded toys,
and ivory things so white,
That he forgot about the time,
Until he found it night.

Ah! then he saw such fireworks!
They glistened in his eyes;
The crackers and the lanterns too
Quite took him by surprise.

He listened to the music of
The fiddle and the gong,
And felt that it was jolly, though
He knew that it was wrong.

But after that he began to think
Things were not so bright;
The men were going, and there came
The watchman of the night;

And sleep was stealing over him,
He scarce could lift his head,
So he lay on the cold, cold stones,
Which served him for a bed.

Little Chinkey Chow-Chow
Woke up with early light,
And wandered far away from where
He passed the dreary night;

He was so very worn and cold,
And sadly wanted food,
So he sat upon a well
In not a pleasant mood.

He saw the well was very deep,
The water too was clear,
And soon he saw a golden fish
That looked so very near.

He stretched his hand to catch the fish;
But oh! how sad to tell,
He tumbled over and he sank
To the bottom of the well.

Some other boys were playing there
And saw him disappear,
And ran along the road to see
If anyone was near.

A Great BIG Market Gardener,
Was soon upon the ground,
And caught our little Chinkey up,
Who soon would have been drowned.

The boys began to jeer at him,
For he was very wet;
They pulled his dripping tail, and called
Him names that I forget.

One took his wooden shoes away,
Another took his hat,
And someone said, "It serves him right,"
Now only think of that!

When little Chinkey ran away,
His tail flew in the wind;
But when our Chinkey turned again
His tail hung down behind.

He wandered past the painted shops,
Where they put up the tea,
And I am sure the boys at school
Were happier than he.

Poor Chinkey Chow was very tired,
And very sore his feet,
When his mother saw him from
The corner of a street.

She said he was a wicked boy,
And ought to have a smack!
And yet I think she loved him more
Because she'd got him back.

Now when I see a Chinaman,
And that is every day,
I wonder if he is, grown up,
The boy that ran away.

But what I still think most about
When I this story tell,
Is the GREAT BIG Market Gardener
That raised him from the well

_From Calvert's Australian Toy Books_

[Page 38--Boy Land]

That Nice Boy

"Nice child--very nice child," observed an old gentleman, crossing to the other side of the car and addressing the mother of the boy who had just hit him in the eye with a wad of paper. "How old are you, my son?"

"None of your business," replied the youngster, taking aim at another passenger.

"Fine boy," smiled the old man, as the parent regarded her offspring with pride. "A remarkably fine boy. What is your name, my son?"

"Puddin' Tame!" shouted the youngster, with a giggle at his own wit.

"I thought so," continued the old man, pleasantly. "If you had given me three guesses at it, that would have been the first one I would have struck on. Now, Puddin', you can blow those things pretty straight, can't you?"

"You bet!" squealed the boy, delighted at the compliment. "See me take that old fellow over there!"

"No, no!" exclaimed the old gentleman, hastily. "Try it on the old woman I was sitting with. She has boys of her own, and she won't mind."

"Can't you hit the lady for the gentleman, Johnny?" asked the fond parent.

Johnny cleverly landed the pellet on the end of the old woman's nose.

But she did mind it, and rising in her wrath soared down on the small boy like a hawk. She put him over the line, reversed him, ran him backwards, till he didn't know which end of him was front, and finally dropped him into the lap of the scared mother, with a benediction whereof the purport was that she'd be back in a moment to skin him alive.

"She didn't seem to like it, Puddin'," smiled the old gentleman, softly. "She's a perfect stranger to me; but I understand she is the matron of an Orphans' Home, and I thought she would like a little fun; but I was mistaken."

And the old man smiled sweetly as he went back to his seat. He was sorry for the poor little boy, but he couldn't help it.

A Wicked Boy

Of all the small boys in our town
That Jones boy was the worst,
And if the "bad man" came around
He'd take that Jones boy first.

One day he slipped away from home
And went out for a skate
Down on a deep and dangerous pond
Beyond the garden gate.

His mother missed him after a while,
And thought he'd gone to skate;
And running to the fatal pond,
She found she was too late.

For there, upon the cruel ice,
Beyond an air-hole wide,
She saw his pretty little hat,
And a mitten by it's side.

He was her boy, and all the love
That fills a mother's heart
Came forth in tears and sobs and moans
Beyond the strength of art.

She called the neighbours quick to come,
They scraped along the ground;
Beneath the water and the ice--
The boy could no be found.

At last their search was given up
Until a thaw should come;
The mother's sobs began afresh,
Her sorrow was not dumb.

They turned to leave the fatal pool,
A voice came clear and free--
"Hallo! If you want Frankie Jones,
You'll find him up this tree."

And so it was--the mother's tears
Were changed to smiles of joy;
But gracious heaven, how she spanked
Her darling, fair-haired boy!

L'Envoi

Cooley's Boy

The boy not only preys on my melon-patch and fruit trees, and upon those of my neighbours, but he has an extraordinary aptitude for creating a disturbance in whatever spot he happens to be. Only last Sunday he caused such a terrible commotion in church that the services had to be suspended for several minutes until he could be removed. The interior of the edifice was painted and varnished recently, and I suppose one of the workers must have left a clot of varnish upon the back of Cooley's pew, which is directly across the aisle from mine. Cooley's boy was the only representative of the family at church upon that day, and he amused himself during the earlier portions of the service by kneeling upon the seat and communing with Dr. Jones' boy, who occupied the pew immediately in the rear. Sometimes, when young Cooley would resume a proper position, Jones's boy would stir him up afresh by slyly pulling his hair, whereupon Cooley would wheel about and menace Jones with his fist in a manner which betrayed utter indifference to the proprieties of the place and the occasion, as well as the presence of the congregation. When Cooley finally sank into a condition of repose, he placed his head, most unfortunately, directly against the lump of undried varnish, while he amused himself by reading the commandments and the other scriptural texts upon the wall behind the pulpit.

In a few moments he attempted to move, but the varnish had mingled with his hair, and it held him securely. After making one or two desperate but ineffectual efforts to release himself, he became very angry; and supposing that Jones's boy was holding him, he shouted:

"Leg go o' my hair! Leg go o' my hair, I tell you!"

The clergyman paused just as he was entering upon consideration of "secondly," and the congregation looked around in amazement, in time to perceive young Cooley, with his head against the back of the pew, aiming dreadful blows over his shoulder with his fist at some unseen person behind him. And with every thrust he exclaimed:

"I'll smash yer nose after church! I'll go for you, Bill Jones, when I ketch you alone! Leg go o' my hair, I tell you, or I'll knock the stuffin' out o' yer," etc, etc.

Meanwhile, Jones's boy sat up at the very end of his pew, far away from Cooley, and looked as solemn as if the sermon had made a deep impression upon him.

Max Adeler

[Page 39--Boy Land]

Jack The Glutton

"Do look at those pigs, as they lay in the straw,"
Little Richard said to his papa;
"They keep eating longer than ever I saw,
What nasty fat gluttons they are!"

"I see they are feasting" his father replied,
"They eat a great deal I allow;
But let us remember, before we deride,
'Tis the nature, my dear, of a sow.

"But when a great boy, such as you, my dear Dick,
Does nothing but eat all day
And keeps sucking things till he makes himself sick,
What a glutton! indeed, we may say.

"When plumcake and sugar forever he picks,
And sweetmeats, and comfits, and figs;
Pray let him get rid of his own nasty tricks,
And then he may laugh at the pigs."

Tom the Dainty Boy

Never be dainty and throw food away;
'Tis sinful, as you must have heard many say;
Besides, you yourself may require food some day,
Though well fed.

So don't smell your plate and turn over your food,
And doubt if it's wholesome, or pleasant, or good;
Such conduct is not only senseless,--but rude
And ill-bred.

There was a young boy, who so dainty became,
That whether his dinner was fish, flesh or game,
He turned up his nose at them all, just the same,
And would cry,

"I cannot eat this,"--and, "I do not like that;"--
"This chicken's too lean,"--and "That mutton's too fat;
The dog he may eat it up all, or the cat,
But not I.

The consequence was that he soon became thin;
His bones they stuck out, and his cheeks they sunk in,
And his hands were not stronger nor thicker than tin,
If so strong.

And his legs grew as slender as little hat-pegs,
And almost as small was his waist as his legs;
And he looked like the laths that are fastened round kegs,
Thin and long.

And thinner, and thinner, and thinner he grew,
A shadow had been rather fat, of the two;
In fact, you might easily look him right through,
If you tried.

And when he was quite the skeleton grown,
As weak as a reed, and as cold as a stone
He fell all to pieces, and with a faint groan,
So he died.

Boy that robbed the Bird's nest

"To-whit! To-whit! To-whee!
Will you listen to me?
Who stole four eggs I laid,
And the nice nest I made?"

"Not I," said the cow. "Oh, no;
Such a thing I'd never do;
I gave you a wisp of hay,
But didn't take your nest away."

"Coo, coo! said the dove,
I'll speak a word my love;
Who stole that pretty nest
From a little red-breast?"

"Not I," said the sheep. "Oh, no.
I wouldn't treat a poor bird so;
I gave wool the nest to line,
But the nest was none of mine."

"Caw! Caw!" cried the crow,
"I should like to know
What thief took away
A bird's nest to-day."

"Cluck! Cluck!" said the hen,
Don't ask me again!
Why I hav'nt a chick
Would do such a trick.

We all gave her a feather,
And she wove them together;
I'd scorn to intrude
On her and her brood."

"Chirr-a-whirr! Chirr-a-whirr!
We will make a great stir;
Let us find out his name,
And all cry for shame!"

"I would not rob a bird,"
Said little Mary Green;
"I think I never heard
Of anything so mean."

"'Tis very cruel too,"
Said little Alice Neil:
"I wonder if he knew
How sad the bird would feel?"

A little boy hung down his head,
And hid his face, so crimson red;
For he stole that pretty nest
From little robin redbreast;
And he felt so full of shame,
I do not like to tell his name.

But during next week
Dressed in his Sunday best
This boy set out to seek
All for another nest.

He robbed a nest up high,
Suspended in a tree;
Two birds came through the sky,
What happened you can see.

Cruel Boy

What! go to see the kittens drowned
On purpose in the yard!
I did not think there could be found
A little heart so hard.

Poor kittens! No more pretty play
With pussy's wagging tail:
Why! I'd go far enough away
Before I'd see the pail.

Poor things! the little child that can
Be pleased to go and see,
Most likely, when he grows a man,
A cruel man will be.

And many a wicked thing he'll do
Because his heart is hard:
A great deal worse than killing you,
Poor kittens in the yard.

Tyrannical Pat

What became of tyrannical Pat,
Who pelted the dog, and beat the cat,
Why, puss scratched his face and tore his hat;
And Dash knocked him over as flat as a mat.
Mind that!

The little boy who bit his Nails

See here a naughty boy, John Thales,
Who had a shocking way
Of picking at his finger nails,
And biting them all day.
And though he had, like other boys,
Both soldiers, kites and drums,
He liked, much better than these toys,
His fingers and his thumbs.

Boy who tore his Hat

Above on a chair, a little boy sat,
For he had torn his nice new hat;
And so was punished for doing that.

Thief Charley

Charley, Charley, stole the barley
Out of the baker's shop;
The baker came out, and gave him a clout,
And made that Charley hop.

[Page 40--Whipping Machine]

Snook's Patent Whipping Machine for Flogging Naughty Boys in School
"The Snooks' Whipping Machine has proved a total failure."
--"Times."

Declaration of a Distracted Schoolmaster.

A year ago I took charge of a school of 1000 boys. They were a very bad lot indeed, and I could do nothing with them. Being of a mild disposition, I attempted to reason with them; but I might as well have reasoned with the pigs. I then thought of punishing them, but that was a big task, and, besides, what mode of punishment should I adopt? In my utmost perplexity I wrote to Professor Wilderspin--a great authority on the management of boys--and he wrote as follows:

"Nearly all boys can be managed by an intelligent schoolmaster without punishment, but in a few cases it seems impossible to do without it. In every large school in England, Ireland, and Scotland some corporal punishment is used, and some must continue to be used as long as very vicious children continue to exist, or as long as parents spoil their children by over indulgence or by wilful criminal neglect before they send them to school. --Yours truly, Professor Wilderspin."

I then wrote to twenty-seven of the principal headmasters in the world, and the following are the replies:--

From the High School of Eton wrote head-master, Mr. Squeers:
"If they don't behave as they should do, why, soundly box their
ears."
From the Grammar School of Harrow wrote head-master, Mr. Phfool:
"If they do not behave themselves, expel them from the school."
From the Training School of Rugby wrote head-master, Mr Wist:
"Just take a handful of their hair, and give a sharp, short twist."
From the College School of Oxford wrote Professor Rarey Hook:
"Instead of nearly killing, overawe them with a look."
From the Bible School of Cambridge wrote Professor William Brying:
"Well whip them with a birchen rod, and never mind their crying."
From the Blue Coat School of London wrote Professor Rupert Gower:
"At arm's length make them hold a book the space of half-an-hour."
From the Naval School of Liverpool wrote head-master Mr. Jointer:
"Just rap them on the knuckles with a common teacher's pointer."
From the People's School of Manchester wrote head-master Mr.
Flowers:
"Make them kneel down as still as death for just about two hours."
From the Infant School of Birmingham wrote Professor Dory Heller:
"Just put on them a fool's cap, marked 'dunce,' 'thief,' or
'story-teller'."
From the Charity school of Sheffield wrote head-master, Mr. Clay:
"If the boys are disobedient, do not let them out to play."
From the Gentleman's School at Brighton wrote Professor Robert
Flask:
"If the boys will act unruly, why, just make them do a task."
From the National School of Bristol wrote Professor Mark Groom:
"If the boys are extra naughty, shut them in a dark room."
From the District School of Edenburgh wrote head-master, Mr. Glass:
"The naughty boys should all be sent to the bottom of the class."
From the Mixed School of Glasgow wrote Professor Duncan Law:
"To keep a proper kind of school, just use the three-tailed taw."
From the Latin School of Dublin wrote Professor Patrick Clayrence:
"If the boys are very bad boys, write a letter to their parents."
From the Mission School, Calcutta, wrote the Rev. Mr. Mac Look:
"Try them by a boy jury, write the verdict in a black-book."
From the Lyceum of New York wrote Professor Henry Bothing:
"Take your delinquent boys one hour and make them sit on nothing."
From the Public School, Chicago, wrote head-master, Mr. Norrids:
"If they will not behave themselves, why, just you slap their
foreheads."
From, the Academy of San Francisco wrote head-master, Mr. Power:
"Make them stoop and hold their fingers on the floor for just an
hour."
From the Mormon School of Utah wrote Professor Orson Pratt:
"First strip and make them fast, and then just use the little cat."
From the King's College, Lisbon, wrote Professor Don Cassiers:
"If you want to make them good boys, pull, pinch, and twist their
ears."
From the Cadet's School of Paris wrote Professor Monsieur Sour:
"Just make them hold their hands above their heads for one full
hour."
From the Royal School of Amsterdam wrote Professor Vander Tooler:
"If they will not behave themselves, just trounce them with a
ruler."
From the Model School of Pekin wrote Professor Cha Han Coo:
"Just put their hands into the stocks and beat with a bamboo."
From the Normal School of Moscow wrote Professor Ivan Troute:
"To make your boys the best of boys, why, just use the knout."
From the Muslim School of Cairo wrote the Mufti, Pasha Saido:
"Upon the bare soles of their feet give them the bastinado."
From the Common School of Berlin wrote Professor Von de Rind:
"There's nothing like the old, old way that ever could I find;
Just lay them right across your knee and cane them well behind.
I've only just been speaking mit mine goot frien', Doctor Whistim,
And he says that it does no harm, but is felt throughout the
system."
At last, as I was thinking deep how puzzling all this looks,
I received a tempting offer from a certain Mr. Snooks.
His "great machine to whip with speed" I brought with flusteration,
But to see just how it did succeed you view the illustration.

And then look at "Professor Cole's Gentle Persuader." next page.

[Page 41--Whipping Machine]

Cole's Patent Whipping Machine for Flogging Naughty Boys in School

Testimonial from a Schoolmaster
_(To Mr. Cole, Book Arcade, Melbourne)_

SIR--Your Patent Flogger is a "keen"
Success as a labor-saving machine;
'Twill yet be held in great esteem,
Already 'tis the Poet's theme;
It's the greatest patent that's ever been
In or out of a schoolroom seen;
And as you have got it to go by steam,
School-life will now be all serene.

I have not had a bad boy remaining now, but before I used your machine they used to be a frightful lot of young scamps. For instance, in my school of 1000, the first day the machine was introduced, 741 were punished for various misdeeds, and 103 for single offences, were flogged as follows:--