Chapter I: WOULDN'T be a growler, I wouldn't be a bear;

I wouldn't be an owlet, always on a stare;

I wouldn't be a monkey, doing foolish tricks;
I wouldn't be a donkey, full of sullen kicks.

I wouldn't be a goose,
Nor a peacock full of pride,
But I would be a big boy,
With a pocket on each side.

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NELL AND HER BIRD.

GOOD-BY, little birdie!
Fly to the sky,
Singing and singing
A merry good-by.

Tell all the birdies,
Flying above,
Nell, in the garden,
Sends them her love.

Tell how I found you,
Hurt, in a tree;
Then, when they're wounded,
They'll come right to me.

I'd like to go with you
If I could fly;
It must be so beautiful
Up in the sky!

Why, little birdie!
Why don't you go?
You sit on my finger,
And shake your head, "No!"--

He's off! Oh! how quickly
And gladly he rose!
I know he will love me
Wherever he goes.

I know--for he really
Seemed trying to say,
"My dear little Nelly,
I can't go away."

But just then some birdies
Came flying along,
And sang as they neared us
A chirruping song;

And he felt just as I do
When girls come and shout
Right under the window,
"Come, Nelly! come out!"

It 's wrong to be sorry;
I _ought_ to be glad;
But he's the best birdie
That ever I had.

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THERE was an old weather-vane high on a shed,
The wind came a courting and turned his head;
And all it could utter for lack of mouth
Was--East, and West, and North, and South.

----------

DUMPY DICKY said, "I can't;"
Joe said, "By and by;"
Grumpy Jacky said, "I shan't;"
Tommy said, "I'll try."

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"HAVE you heard the news, good neighbor?"
"No. What is the news, I pray?"
"Why the cat went down to a concert
And frightened the music away."

----------

----------

THE NEW SLATE.

SEE my slate! I dot it new,
Tos I b'oke the other,
Put my 'ittle foot right froo,
Running after mother.

I tan make you lots o' sings,
Fass as you tan tell 'em,
T's and B's and big O rings,
Only I tan't spell 'em.

I tan make a funny pig
Wid a turly tail-y,
'Ittle eyes, and snout so big
Pokin' in a pail-y.

I tan make a elephant,
Wid his trunk a-hangin';
An' a boy--who says I tan't?--
Wid his dun a-bangin'.

An' the smoke a-tummin' out
(Wid my t'umb I do it,
Rubbin' all the white about),
Sparks a-flyin' froo it.

I tan make a bu-ful house
Wid a tree behind it,
An' a 'ittle mousy-mouse
Runnin' round to find it.

I tan put my hand out flat
On the slate, and draw it
(Ticklin' is the worst of that)!
Did you ever saw it?

I tan do _me_ runnin' 'bout--
Mamma's 'ittle posset
(Slate's so dusty, rubbin' out,
Dess oo'd better wass it).

Now, then, s'all I make a tree
Wid a birdie in it?
All my picsurs you s'all see
If you'll wait a minute.

No, I dess I'll make a man
Juss like Uncle Rolly.
See it tummin', fass's it tan?
Bet my slate is jolly!

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LITTLE POT SOON HOT.

FUME and fury! I have cause
To tear about and break the laws.

But, on the whole, I'd better not;
"Little pots are soon hot."

Little souls slights discover;
Big souls pass 'em over.

Big souls bear their trouble;
Little souls sizz and bubble.

Little souls oft ferment;
Big souls are content.

Big souls tumble slowly;
Little souls--roly poly!

Big souls, like as not,
When it's fitting, _do_ get hot.

But "little pots" all grandeur spoil.
I'll think a bit before I boil!

----------

NELL'S NOTIONS.

THREE-YEAR-OLD Nell by the window-pane stood,
A good little girl, and as pretty as good,
Watching the snow come down--
Falling so lightly,
So swiftly and brightly,
It whitened all the town.

"See, Aunty!" she cried, in a joyous strain,
"Oh, Aunty, look out! and see the popped rain!
The air is as full as can be;
And it never stops,
But it jumps and hops,
Like the corn that you pop for me."

Winter passed on; and Spring-time was here--
Spring with its flowers, its brightness and cheer,
And the birds were wild with song.
Ah, sweet was the note
From each tiny throat!
Nell listened the whole day long.

"Tell me, dear Aunty, what do they eat,
These dear little birds, that they sing so sweet?"
Nell asked, in her wonder and glee.
"Oh, Aunty, _I_ think
They have sky to drink,
And flowers for their breakfast and tea."

The quick, green-winged katydids filled her with awe,
Such wonderful creatures she'd ne'er seen before;
For hours she would question and tease,
Till, "They're leaves!" she said,
"With legs and a head,
And they're huntin' about for their trees.

"Why, Aunty, hold still! there's a girl in your eyes!"
And queer little Nell fairly screamed with surprise.
"Why, Aunty, it's Nell in there!
I can see it as plain--
There! I see it again!
Why, you're full of me everywhere!"

----------

NEVER a night so dark and drear,
Never a cruel wind so chill,
But loving hearts can make it clear,
And find some comfort in it still.

----------

SNOW, snow, everywhere!
Snow on frozen mountain peak,
Snow on Flippit's sunny hair,
Snow flakes melting on his cheek.
Snow, snow, wherever you go,
Shifting, drifting, driving snow.

But Flippit does not care a pin,
It's Winter without and Summer within.
So, tumble the flakes, or rattle the storm,
He breathes on his fingers and keeps them warm.

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SOME one we cannot hear,
Some one we cannot see,
Shakes the baby,
Wakes the baby,
Makes him laugh with glee.

----------

A STRANGER IN THE PEW.

POOR little Bessie! She tossed back her curls,
And, though she is often the sweetest of girls,
This was something she couldn't and wouldn't endure;
'Twas the meanest, most impolite act, she was sure,
And a thing, she declared, that _she_ never would do:
To go to a church where one didn't belong,
Then walk down the aisle like the best in the throng,
And seat one's self plump in another one's pew.

Humph! Didn't her father own his out and out,
And didn't they fill it up full, just about,
When Mamma and Papa, and herself and the boys,
Were seated? And didn't their boots make a noise
In moving along to make room for a stranger?
And wasn't it cool, with the brazenest face,
To expect at each hymn Pa would find out the place
(If Ben didn't, or Bob, but there wasn't much danger)?

With such feelings at heart, and their print on her face,
Last Sunday our Bessie hitched out of her "place"
To make room for a girl, very shabby and thin,
Who had stood in the aisle till mamma asked her in.
The poor little thing tried her best not to crowd
And Bessie, forgetting, soon had the mishap
To slip from her drowsiness into a nap,
From which she soon wakened by crying aloud.

Poor Bessie sat upright, with cheeks all a-flame
At sleeping in church, and trembled with shame;
But 'twas strange at the close of the service to see
Our Bessie, now gentle as gentle could be,
Take the hand of the shabby young girl in the pew,
And walk with her out of the church with a smile
That shone through the tears in her eyes all the while,
And brightened her face with a radiance new.

"Good-by," whispered Bessie at parting, "and mind
Our pew's forty-five, with a pillar behind."
Then she stole to her mother: "Oh, Mother, I dreamed
Such a curious dream! 'Twas no wonder I screamed.
I thought I was sitting in church in this dress,
With a girl like a beggar-girl right in our pew--
We were sitting alone on the seat, just we two--
And I felt more ashamed than you ever could guess;

"When, all in a moment, the music grew loud,
And on it came floating a beautiful crowd;
They were angels, I knew, for they joined in the song,
And all of them seemed in the church to belong.
Slowly and brightly they sailed through the air;
The rays from the window streamed crimson and blue,
And lit them in turn as their forms glided through;--
I could feel their soft robes passing over my hair.

"One came to my side. Very sadly she said,
'There's a stranger in here.' I lifted my head,
And looked at the poor shabby girl with disdain.
'Tis not she,' said the angel; 'the haughty and vain
Are the strangers at church. She is humble and true.'
Then I cried out aloud, and the minister spoke,
And just as they floated away I awoke,
And there sat that dear little girl in our pew!"

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THE QUEEN O' MAY.

THE Queen o' May
Held court one day,--
The fields had nought to give her;
All in their best
Her maids were drest,
And they began to shiver.

"Now, never sneeze,
But warm your knees,
And look for daisies growing;
You'll find the air
Quite soft and fair,
Unless it fall a-snowing."

"Quite soft!" they said,
Each loyal maid.
"So fair!" the boys went chaffing;
But soon the May
Came down that way,
And set them all a-laughing.

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PUSSY'S CLASS.

"NOW children," said Puss, as she shook her head,
"It is time your morning lesson was said:"
So her kittens drew near with footsteps slow,
And sat down before her, all in a row.

"Attention, class!" said the cat-mamma,
"And tell me quick where your noses are."
At this all the kittens sniffed the air
As though it were filled with a perfume rare.

"Now what do you say when you want a drink?"
The kittens waited a moment to think,
And then the answer came clear and loud--
You ought to have heard how those kittens meow'd!

"Very well. 'Tis the same, with a sharper tone,
When you want a fish or a bit of bone.
Now what do you say when children are good?"
And the kittens purred as soft as they could.

"And what do you do when children are bad?
When they tease and pull?" each kitty looked sad.
"Pooh!" said their mother, "that isn't enough;
You must use your claws when children are rough!"

"And where are your claws? no, no, my dear,
(As she took up a paw) see! they're hidden here:"
Then all the kittens crowded about
To see their sharp little claws brought out.

They felt quite sure they never should need
To use such weapons--oh, no, indeed!
But their wise mamma gave a pussy's "_pshaw_!"
And boxed their ears with her softest paw.

"Now 'Stpisss!' as hard as you can," she said--
But every kitten hung down its head--
"Stpisss! I say," cried the mother cat,
But they said, "O mammy we can't do that!"

"Then go and play," said the fond mamma;
"What sweet little idiots kittens are!
Ah well, I was once the same, I suppose"--
And she looked very wise and rubbed her nose.

----------

TWISTAN TURNEM, let me see,
Which is the way to Tweedle-dee?
Why, turn about the way you've come,
And take the road to Tweedle-dum.

----------

WANDERING JOE.

TELL me, O wandering Joe!
How many miles did you go?
Why, one to my mother's,
And three to my brother's,
And just half a dozen
To hunt up a cousin;
And half a mile yonder
A hen-roost to plunder;
And three half miles back
To cover the track.
Then a half and a half
To water the calf,
And a half and a quarter
Before I found water;
Add a quarter to that,
When I chased a black bat;
Then two to town,
To see Jim Brown;
And two, and none,
And one for fun,
And one for luck,
And one for pluck;
And one for trouble,
And two for double;
And then 'twas best
To sit and rest.
And now, my friend, says Joe,
How many miles _did_ I go?

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WHETHER fair, whether foul,
Be it wet or dry,
Cloudy time or shiny time
The sun's in the sky.
Gloomy-night, sparkle-night,
Be it glad or dread,
Cloudy time or shiny time,
Stars are overhead.

----------

THE RATS.

WHEN I'm sitting
At my knitting
After tea--
Deary me!
Such commotion,
Land o' Goshen!
And it's all
In the wall.

Rumble, tumble,
Flurry, scurry.
Now a rushing,
And a crushing;
Now a rattle,
And a battle;
Now a squeak
And a fall

So I sit
And I knit;
And I ponder
And wonder,
And scarcely know how,
In the racket and row,
My wits to recall.

But the clatter,
For that matter,
And the rumble
And tumble
And scratching
And catching
Keep on
Through it all.

Rats in dozens,
With their cousins,
Or in droves,
With their loves:
Now it's raps,
Now it's taps,
Or it's crunching,
Or munching;
Or a creak,
Or a shriek;
If I knew
What to do,
Or you'd show
Where to go,
I'd be off
Like a streak.

But no, I must stay
While they clamor away.
Traps, cats,
Sticks or rats--
Bane or gun,
It's all one.
No, it's fudge,
They won't budge!

Rat are rats,
Spite of cats
And the rest.
But--my star!--
Beginning or end
Or middle, depend
The things are a pest;
And they're all
In the wall,
So they are!

----------

IN THE WOOD.

"WHAT says the book, my lassie?
What says the book to thee?"
"It says the wood is beautiful,
The blossoms fair to see;
It says the brook tells merrily
A little tale of glee,
And birds, brimful of melody,
Do sing their songs for me."

"Then close the page, my lassie,
And lift thy pretty head,
And what the book would say to thee
The wood shall say instead.
The brook shall tell its merry tale,
The flowers their brightness shed,
And the birds shall sing--for life is life,
And printed words are dead.

"Hear what the bird sings, lassie:
'O little lady fair!
The breath of flowers is over thee,
The sunlight in thy hair;
The heart of a little maiden
Is free as birds in the air--
And God is good to thee and me,
O little lady fair!'"

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COMB MUSIC.

TWO children once sat in the twilight gray
Playing a tune in a comical way;
They both pressed a comb to their rosy red lips,
And little they cared for tickles and slips,
For wheezings, and paper that always would fall,
For oh! such loud music, or no note at all.
'Twas sweet to their ears, as fondly they heard
This musical strain coming forth, word for word:
"_W-h-h-wome, w-h-h-wome, szzzeeet, zhhweet zome,
Bheet wev zo hhumble, therzzz nho blazzze liew zhhome!_"

Now they are grown, and sing in the choir
Of their own village church with the beautiful spire;
So sweet are her notes, so perfect her skill,
Not a bird of the air but might envy her trill,
Not a wind of the night but right gladly would know
How to make his rich music so plaintive and low.

Together their voices in harmony blend,
And steep all their days in a joy without end;
And yet in their hearts they have always confessed
That lovely duet long ago was the best,
When they tingled their lips at the musical comb,
And told all the world there was "zno blaizzz liew zhome."

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IN THE BASKET.

SAY, do you hear my basket
Go "kippy! kippy! pe-ek"?
Maybe my funny basket
Is learning how to speak.

If you want to know the secret,
Go ask the speckled hen,
And tell her when I've warmed them
I'll bring them back again.

----------

COMING.

TWO fair ships are sailing,
Sailing over the sea,--
Willie's ship and my ship--
Full as full can be;
Side by side, my Willie says,
Like as pin to pin.
Oh, the happy, happy days
When our ships come in!
While our ships are sailing,
Sailing over the sea,--
Willie's ship and my ship,--
Full as full can be,
Sailing on the sunny tide,
Grieving would be sin:
Soon or late, and side by side,
Shall our ships come in.

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THE DAINTY MISS ROSE.

OH, a perfect nose,
And dainty toes,
And woolen hose,
Had Miss Rose!

A dog was she of high degree,
Born of an ancient family.
From her mother's side
Came her Spanish pride;
She had royal ways,
And her pedigree reckoned
From the glorious days
Of Charles the Second!

Well, she needed an escort
To a party of some sort,
One evening in May.
And to see her bother
'Twixt one dog and t'other,
Was good as a play.

Many pups came to say
They would be at her service,
But she sent them away
With a manner quite nervous.
In fact, I must own,
Of dogs fully grown,
She snubbed them by name
As fast as they came:
Sir Rover was coarse,
And Ponto was cruel;
Old Bounce was a horse,
Young Pip lived on gruel;
Spitz was a sneak,
Fido was surly;
Pomp was too sleek,
Carlo too curly;
Even elegant Pap,
Who wore a gold collar,
She said, with a snap,
Wasn't worth a lead dollar.

Then came a brave wight
For a desperate pull;
He had been in a fight,
Old Major de Bull.
He was cross as a bear,
And scanty of hair.

Also young Isle of Skye,
Rather down at the heel;
And the well-mannered Guy,
Who was sour, but genteel.

But dainty Miss Rose
Still tossed up her nose--
She oughtn't, she couldn't,
She wouldn't, she shouldn't
With one of them go,
She'd thank 'em to know.

By this time it was growing late,
And dainty Rose bemoaned her fate;
When, in the sky, there sprang in sight
A throbbing, sparkling thing of light.
"What's that," she cried, "I see afar?"
And Guy replied, "The great Dog Star--

Too Sirius, dear, for such as you,
And very much above you, too."
"Not so, indeed!" cried dainty Rose,
No longer tossing up her nose.
"Now, I am matched at last, you see,
The Dog Star shall my escort be!"

Then off she started, quite content,
And gallantly the Dog Star went.
For all the way he kept in sight,
And held her in his tender light,
Guiding her steps with steady rays,
And blinking when he met her gaze.

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POOR little mousie, what a mishap!
Why did you put your nose in the trap?
Hold still, mousie, and trust to me--
I'll touch the spring, and set you free!

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WAITING FOR FATHER.

In the gray of the twilight and glow of the fire,
A little girl sat on the rug.
She was warming a slipper; and pussy sat nigh her,
And also her friend, Mr. Pug.
And the song in the heart of the glad little girl,
As the light of the fire played over each curl,
Was, "Father is coming--hurrah! hurrah!
Father is coming--hurrah!"

She had spread out his soft woolen gown on the chair,
With its facings of beautiful blue;
Had picked up her playthings that lay here and there,
And arranged things as well as she knew.
"For the room must be tidy and pretty and bright,"
She said to herself, "when he comes, every night,
And soon he is coming--hurrah! hurrah!
Father is coming--hurrah!"

How rosy her cheeks, and how sparkling her eyes!
How dimpled her soft little hand!
While Pussy and Pug look as solemn and wise
As if the whole scene they had planned.
But you never would think, so demure are the three,
That the little maid's heart could be singing with glee,
"Father is coming--hurrah! hurrah!
Father is coming--hurrah!"
The sunlight has vanished, and bleak is the street,
And beggars are dreading the night.
The pavement is noisy with home-speeding feet,
And only the windows are bright;
When quickly the little maid springs from the rug,
Leaving Pussy half sleeping, but followed by Pug;
"Father is coming--hurrah! hurrah!
Father is coming--hurrah!"

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WHAT SHALL I BUY?[1]

I've got a penny,
What shall I buy?
I'll buy a--whistle,
That's what I'll buy.

I've got two pence,
What shall I buy?
I'll buy a--pop-gun,
That's what I'll buy.

I've got three pence,
What shall I buy?
I'll buy a--horsey,
That's what I'll buy.

[1] The charm of this thrilling ditty lies in allowing baby to suggest the last word of the third lines.

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RUT-A-TUT-TUTS!
Who can crack nuts?
Squirrels, can you?
"That we can, true--
Rut-a-tut-tuts,
We can crack nuts!"

Chicketty-chack,
Cracketty-crack.
"Pooh!" said the hammer,
"Silence your clamor,
Rut-a-tut-tuts--
Who can't crack nuts?"

----------

HALLOO, OLD SCUTTLE!

HALLOO, old scuttle! good old soul,
What's become of all your coal?
"Why the tongs he came with a gobbledy-gun,
And took my coals out, one by one;
And the blaze ran in with a tricksy-spire
And set the pretty things a-fire;
And the blower came with a roaring-roar,
And made them burn up more and more;
And then the poker with koppitty-hop,
He poked their ashes and made 'em drop--
And that, O Gobbledy-Koppitty-dole!
Is what's become of all my coal."

----------

OH, NO!

IF blue-birds bloomed like flowers in a row,
And never could make a sound,
How would the daisies and violets know
When to come out of the ground!
They would wait and wait the seasons round;
Never a flower could on earth be found.
And what would birds and butterflies do
If the flowers had wings to fly?
Why, birds and blossoms, and butterflies too,
Would stay far up in the sky;
And then the people would droop and sigh,
And all the children on earth would cry.

----------

THE SAND MAN.

OHO! but he travels the country over,
The queer little, kind little, elfish rover!
Lightly he bears in his tricksome hand
A silvery horn full of sleepy sand,
Shaking it here, and shaking it there,
Till the blossoms nod in the drowsy air;
Till the sunlight creeps up hill to bed,
Or slips through the sky where clouds are red;
Till the lambkins bleat a soft "good-night!"
And birds grow still in the tree-tops bright,
While sweet little eyelids, all over the land,
Droop with the weight of the silvery sand.

Oho! Oho! where the Sand Man goes
Every one wonders and nobody knows;
For just when the right time comes to peep,
Little and big are falling asleep.
He steals to the cradles, the cribs, the beds,
And sprinkles his sand over children's heads,
Till bright little faces lie warm and still,
Smiling or grave, at the Sand Man's will.
He catches them often at full midday,
And bids them stop in their merry play--
With a "Ho! my darling," "Hi! my dear,"
"I'll sing a dream-song into your ear."

Some on the carpet, some on the chairs,
Some curled up on the nursery stairs;
Some in the grass where the shadows play,
Some hidden deep in the fragrant hay,
And some who, folded in mother's embrace,
Float in a lullaby, pressing her face.
Oho! but he travels the country over,
The queer little, kind little, elfish rover!
And whence he comes, and whither he goes,
Every one wonders, and nobody knows;
For just when the right time comes to peep,
All the children are falling asleep.

----------

TROUBLE IN THE GREENHOUSE.

THREE big cats in a greenhouse.
Oh! they look so meek,
So sage and sleek,
That but for the clash
And the sudden crash,
And the broken pots
Of forget-me-nots,
And upset roses,
And dingy noses,
And draggled vines,
And tangled twines,
And broken pink,
You'd never think
What a fearful fuss
And hopeless muss
Could be made in a hurry
And velvet flurry
By three meek cats in a greenhouse.

----------

TEN KINDS.

WINNIE WHINEY, all things grieve her;
Fannie Fibber, who'd believe her?
Lotty Loozem, late to school, sir;
Albert Allplay, quite a fool, sir;
Kitty Kissem, loved by many,
Georgy Grump, not loved by any.
Ralphy Ruff--beware his fist, sir!
Tillie Tattle, like a blister,
Gus Goodaction, bright and cheery,
Sammy Selfish, sour and dreary.
Do you know them, as I've sung them?
Easy 'tis to choose among them.

----------

HAVE YOU APPLES?

"HAVE you apples, good grocer?"
"O yes, ma'am, how many?"
"How do you sell them, Sir?"
"Two for a penny."

"I'll have two, Mr. Grocer,
They're good for my baby;
Send 'em home in an hour, Sir."
"That I will, lady."

----------

THERE was an old woman of Wigg,
Who fattened her favorite pig.
"I'll eat him," she said,
"From his tail to his head"--
This greedy old woman of Wigg.

----------

THERE was a brave knight of Lorraine,
Who hated to give people pain.
"I'll skeer them," he said,
"But won't kill 'em dead"--
This noble young knight of Lorraine.

----------

THERE was an old doctor of Brille,
Who gave all his patients a pill.
"It will cure 'em," he said,
Or else kill 'em dead"--
This skillful old doctor of Brille.

----------

FAIRY TALES.

"'Et me see," thought little May,
Waking from her slumber,
"How many 'tories do I know?
Oh, a mons'rous number!
First Cin'rella with her shoe,
All d'essed up so sp'ended;
"'Es, an' naughty B'ue Beard too,
Always gettin' 'fended;
'Fended with his wives he was,
All account of keys,
Then a-comin' back to say
'DIE MA'AM! on your knees!'
Oh my! if she hadn't had
Her faithful sister Ann,
No one ever would have come
To kill that wicked man!

Then the Bean-stalk--that was nice!
Wis' I'd one this minute,
Guess, though, I'd be most af'aid--
Might be giants in it.
Wonder if I was to be
Jack the Giant-killer
Nursey'd be af'aid o' me?
Why, I wouldn't kill her!
Not unless she combed too hard--
Then I'd shake my axe
Jus' a 'ittle--wis' I had
A real one jus' like Jack's.
Wis' I had a pair o' boots
Like Puss, who went a-walkin'!
Wis' I had a Pussy too,
Sittin' up a-talkin'.
I wouldn't like to go get lost
Like 'ittle Hop my T'umb
'Way 'n the forest (don't I wish
My mamma'd only come!)
A'most makes me feel af'aid
T'inkin' 'bout 'em now;
Gettin' lef' that way I t'ink
Was dreffle, any how;--
But, oh, the chil'ren in the wood,
They must have been so f'ightened

A-list'nin, to the t'under, or
A-watchin' when it lighten'd.
Don't see why they didn't go;
Maybe, though, they couldn't--
_My_ Uncle wouldn't t'eat me so,
Uncle Rodney wouldn't.
Maybe in the mornin', too,
They heard a lion roarin'--
Here comes Nursey! now I'll play
I'm fast as'eep, a-snorin'.

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OLD Can-an'-must is a giant bold,
But one thing scares him, I've been told;
"I'm afraid when a youngster wastes his crust,
He'll never be thrifty," says Can-an'-must.

Old Can-an'-must is a giant bold,
And only one thing makes him scold:
"If I catch a youngster leaving a crust,
I'll gobble him up!" says Can-an'-must.

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MOTHERLESS.

"I wish she had not died," she said,
The words were soft and low;
"Most little girls like me, papa,
Have dear mammas, you know.

"There's Lulu Hart, next door. I think
It's nice to live that way;
With some one sitting at the blinds
To watch you while you play;

"I often see her look up quick,
And smile at some one there;
And when she laughs and hides away,
She knows some one will care.

"Why didn't Doctor Bishop cure
My mother, dear papa?
That's what he did one time, you know,
For Lulu Hart's mamma.

"Say, papa, was God good to take
My own mamma away?
For I was just a baby then--
Papa, why don't you say?"

"Yes, always good," he sobbed. "Mamma
Is very happy, dear."
His little girl sprang up, nor cared
Another word to hear.

"Why, papa! crying? Please don't cry.
Do you feel sorry, too?
Now, papa, see; I never meant
I didn't care for you.

"If mamma's happy in the sky--
You told me so before--
We mustn't cry. I think it's wrong
To want her any more.

"Laugh, papa, quick! I'll pull your hair!
I'll kiss your funny nose;
Laugh, quick, for Minnie; else I'll try
To jump right on your toes.

"Poor eyes! all wet. I'll kiss them dry.
What's in your pocket? See.
Oh! where's your watch? Now, won't you please
Just make it tick for me?

"It's nice to have a dear papa.
(How big it is, and bright.
I hear it ticky, ticky, tick.
It's very loud to-night.)

"Ride me to Banbury Cross, papa!
Now, don't you let me fall.
When I was littler, how I slipped!
I couldn't keep on at all.

"Oh! there's the tea-bell. Now you've tossed
My hair like everything!
I'll toss yours too. Oho! Oho!
You look just like a king--

"For kings have crowns, you know, papa,
And your hair's standing straight.
I knew you'd laugh! There, now, you're good--
Come quick, and show Aunt Kate."

Aunt, at the table, glanced at one,
And then glanced at the other;
She could not guess what hidden thing
Had happened to her brother.

His shining hair stood like a crown,
His smile was warm and bright;
"Why, John," she said, "you really seem
Like your old self to-night."

----------

OLD SIMON.

OLD SIMON and his boys were glad,
To take the plainest fare;
They brightened everything they had,
With gratitude and prayer.

"Give thanks," said Simon, "when ye rise,
Give thanks when day is done."
And none than Simon were more wise,
Or happy, under the sun.

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THE LITTLE MOTE.

A LITTLE mote lived in a sunbeam,
And danced in its light all day;
But she jumped with surprise one morning,
At hearing the housemaid say:--

"Oh, the dust! How it keeps one a-working!
It settles all over the room--
And the air is so full, it is folly
To labor with duster and broom!"

"Poor thing!" sighed the mote, "well, I'm sorry.
I think I'll go hide in her hair--
I'm such a wee speck of a dustlet
She never will know I am there."

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WHEN I was little,
Thought I was big;
Now I'm a giant,
Don't care a fig.

When I was nobody,
Felt quite a chap;
Now that I'm somebody,
Don't care a snap.

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WHAT makes baby brave and bright?
Angels guard him day and night.

----------

THE ALPHABET.

LITTLE boys with pockets,
Little boys with none,
Little bright-eyed lassies
Gather, every one!
Crowd around me closely.
Would you master books?
You must first discover
How each letter looks.

=A= has a bar
Where a fairy might ride;

=B= is a post
With two loops at the side.

=C= might be round
If a piece you would lend;

=D= is a buck-saw
Standing on end.

=E= has a peg
In the middle, they say;

=F= is an E
With the bottom away.

=G= is like C,
With a block on one end;

=H= has a seat
That would hold you, depend.

=I= is so straight
It would do for a prop;

=J= is a crook
With a bar at the top.

=K= is a stick
With a crotch fastened to it.

=L= is a roost,
If the chickens but knew it.

=M= has four parts,
As you quickly may see;

=N=, the poor fellow!
Is made out of three.

=O= is so round
It would do for a hoop;

=P= is a stick
With a top like a loop.

=Q= to be curly
Is constantly trying;

=R= is like B,
With the bottom loop flying.

=S= is a snake,
All crooked and dread;

=T= is a pole
With a bar for a head.

=U= it is plain,
Would make a good swing;

=V= is as sharp
As a bumble-bee's sting.

=W= ought
To be called double-V;

=X= is a cross,
As you plainly can see;

=Y= is just formed
Like a V on a stand;

=Z= is the crookedest
Thing in the land!

----------

EARLY to bed and early to rise:
If _that_ would make me wealthy and wise
I'd rise at daybreak, cold or hot,
And go back to bed at once. Why not?

----------

THE COOK'S LITTLE BOY.

A REAL apple-pudding for Mammy and me!
A-boiling as hard as I ever did see!
O Mammy! I'm going to jump up and look,
And tell the old pudding to hurry and cook.

Is it looking in, Mammy, that hinders the boil?
Well, I'd feel very bad for my pudding to spoil;
So I'll cover it up, like a good little son,
And play on the floor till you tell me it's done.

There's the chil'ren up-stairs--they're dressed up so fine,
But their pudding's no better than Mammy's and mine.
Oh! isn't it nice when your Mammy's the cook,
And whenever you want you can climb up and look!

----------

HARRY.

HURRAH for the bouncer, exactly fourteen;
The blithest old schoolboy that ever was seen,
Hurrah for the Harry who went by, this way,
Last Valentine's eve, _thirteen_ and a day!

There was Harry, aged _twelve_, I remember him well
A hawk from a hernshaw he always could tell;
And Harry, _eleven_--ah! how he would fiddle
And scrape with his bow from the end to the middle.

Then the bold boy of _ten_ that my Harry appeared,
A few years ago, when the war-mists were cleared;
A chubby young fellow he flourished at _nine_,
A right chubby fellow, this Harry of mine.

At _eight_ he was slender; at _seven_, quite fat;
At _six_ he was saucy--depend upon that!
At _five_ he put on his first trowsers and jacket;
At _four_ who could match him for making a racket?

At _three_ the young rascal was always in trouble;
At _two_ he was teething (his front teeth, and double);
At _one_ he was precious and something to carry,
And the year before that there was never a Harry!

----------

THREE WAYS.

"HOW sweet," said the swan,
"To glide and plash!
And not, like a frog,
To dive and dash."

"How fine," said the frog,
"To dive and dash!
And not, like a swan,
To glide and plash."

"But better than either
To float with grace,"
A pond lily whispered,
"Yet keep your place."

----------

TOM of Clapham used to say
He loved his mother dearly;
Yet he vexed her sorely every day--
Does that strike you queerly?

----------

WHAT THEY SAY.

WHAT does the drum say? "Rub-a-dub-dub!
Rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub! Pound away, bub!
Make as much racket as ever you can.
Rub-a-dub! rub-a-dub! Go it, my man!"

What does the trumpet say? "Toot-a-toot-too!
Toot-a-toot, toot-a-toot! Hurrah for you!
Blow in this end, sir, and hold me out, so.
Toot-a-toot! toot-a-toot! Why don't you blow?"

What does the whip say? "Snaperty-snap!
Call _that_ a crack, sir--flipperty flap!
Up with the handle, and down with the lash.
Snaperty! snaperty! Done in a flash."

What does the gun say? "Put in my stick,
I'm a real pop-gun. Fire me quick!
See that you fire in nobody's eye.
Steady! my manikin. Now let it fly!"

What does the sword say? "Swishy-an-swish!
Flash in the sunlight, and give me a wish.
Wish I was real, sir--cut 'em in bits!
Wouldn't I scare all the world into fits!"

What do they _all_ say, trumpet and gun,
Whip, sword, and drum-stick? "Hurrah for fun!
Babies no longer, but stout little men,
Racket forever! and racket again!"

----------

ONE step--two step,
Three step--four.
Who says my baby
Can't travel the floor?
Five step--six step--
Seven step--eight!
Now shall my baby
Rest him in state!

----------

MELONS.

MELONS! melons!
All day long
Joe's mother sits
Selling melons.
"Ho! ripe and rich!"
Is her song,
All day long
Selling melons.

Melons! melons!
All day long,
Joe walks the street
Selling melons.
"Ho! ripe and sweet!"
Is his song,
All day long
Selling melons.

----------

HOW MANY THINGS IN MY POCKET?

TAP at your brain and unlock it,
Then count all the things in my pocket:
A nail and a screw,
A screw-driver, too;
A cent and a dollar,
A tumbled-up collar;
A neck-tie and glove,
A note from my love;
Two peppermint-drops,
A couple of tops;
A buckle, a ball,
The head of a doll;
A top-snare, of course,
A six-penny horse;
Four pins, always handy,
And three sticks of candy;
Ten nuts and a pen,
A squirt--and what then?
Why, my knife, to be sure,
And an old wooden skewer;
That's all--oh! a string,
A galvanized ring;
A pistol (but no one could cock it),
And that's all I had in my pocket.

----------

THE GALLANT OUTRIDERS.

"WHERE have you been, my children;
Where have you been, I pray?"
"Oh, but we've been a-riding,
A-riding the live-long day."

"And how did you ride, my darlings;
And where did all of you go?"
"We all of us went on horseback,
A-galloping in a row.

"Jack had the whole of the saddle;
I held on to the tail;
And Leslie, under the fore-feet,
Managed to ride the rail;

"Jackey galloped and cantered,--
Played he galloped, I mean;
For Les. and I did the rocking,
And Jack just rode between.

"Oh, didn't our animal caper
As he hitched himself along!
We might have kept on forever,
If they'd only made him strong.

"But when I pitched on the carpet,
His tail so tight in my hand,
And Les. from the rail fell kicking,
Why, horsey came to a stand.

"If Les. had only kept quiet,
We might have played we were dead;
I don't see the sense in yelling
Because you have bumped your head.

"Jackey held on like a good one,
And looked as fine as a fiddle,--
But it's nothing to ride a-horseback
If a fellow is on the middle."

----------

"BUSY bee! busy bee!
Where is your home?"
"In truth, pretty maiden,
I live in a comb."

"And you, little Rabbit,
Where do you rush?"
"I rush to my home, dear,
Under the brush!"

----------

DOBBIN'S FRIEND.

DOBBIN has a little friend,
Spotted white and sable;
Every day she goes to him,
In his lonely stable.

Not a might of dread has she,
Not a thought of danger;
Lightly runs between his hoofs,
Jumps upon his manger;

Lays her soft, warm cheek to his,
Purrs her meek "Good morning!"
Gives the flies that hover near,
_Such_ a look of warning!

"Dobbin, dear," she sometimes says,
"Feel my winter mittens;
Nice and warm, you see, and made
Purposely for kittens.

"Dobbin, dear, such times at home!
Mother has caught a rat!
Brought it home to show to us--
What do you think of that?"

"Dobbin!" she whispers, purring still,
"You often get so weary,
Why don't you balk or run away,
And get your freedom, dearie?"

Then Dobbin gives his head a toss,
And says, "For shame, Miss Kitty!
If I could do so mean a thing,
'Twould be a monstrous pity.

"No, no; my master's good and kind;
I'll never vex him, never!"
And pussy, pleased, still rubs his cheek,
And likes him more than ever.

----------

THE WAY TO DO IT.

I'LL tell you how I speak a piece:
First, I make my bow;
Then I bring my words out clear
And plain as I know how.

Next, I throw my hands up _so_!
Then I lift my eyes--
That's to let my hearers know
Something doth surprise.

Next, I grin and show my teeth,
Nearly every one;
Shake my shoulders, hold my sides:
That's the sign of fun.

Next I start and knit my brow,
Hold my head erect:
Something's wrong, you see, and I
Decidedly object.

Then I wabble at my knees,
Clutch at shadows near,
Tremble well from top to toe:
That's the sign of fear.

Now I start, and with a leap
Seize an airy dagger.
"WRETCH!" I cry. That's tragedy,
Every soul to stagger.

Then I let my voice grow faint,
Gasp and hold my breath;
Tumble down and plunge about:
That's a villain's death.

Quickly then I come to life,
Perfectly restored;
With a bow my speech is done.
Now you'll please applaud.

----------

WILLY AND HIS PIPE.

WILLY lay by the dimpling brook,
Where the sun had lain before;
And, strange to say, when its place he took,
The spot just brightened the more.

The birds were singing in the blue,
A song that was like a hymn;
While the baby ducklings, two by two,
Strayed into the water to swim.

"Heigho!" sighed Willy, "I cannot fly,
Nor even so much as float;
And as for singing like robins, why,
I never could raise a note.

"But I can play on my pipe," said he;
And soon the music came--
So clear and sweet, so blithesome free,
That it put the birds to shame.

The baby ducklings softly splashed,
The robins yet harder tried,
The sprinkled grass in sunlight flashed,
As it nodded by Willy's side.

And, before he knew, he was floating free
On a sparkling river of thought;
While the birds in the air came down to see
What wonder the pipe had wrought.

And still the music softly rose,
Still Willy was floating free;
And the little ducks with their funny toes,
Were happy as happy could be.

----------