Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
by E. W. Cole · English · Gutenberg #30726 · 873,689 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
Author: E. W. Cole
Release date: December 21, 2009 [eBook #30726]
Most recently updated: January 5, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30726
Credits: Produced by Brian McPherson
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLE'S FUNNY PICTURE BOOK NO. 1 ***
Produced by Brian McPherson
Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
Written And Compiled By E.W. Cole (1832-1918)
First Published 1879 By Cole Publications, Melbourne, Australia.
73rd Edition Totalling 920,000 copies. [*]
[Illustration: Front Cover.]
Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
Or Family Amuser And Instructor;
To Delight The Children And Make Home Happier;
The Best Child's Picture Book In All The World.
It Contains Also Choice Riddles, Games
and pieces of reading for Adults.
Look through it yourself.
Long ago the Rainbow was a Sign it is said,
Now 'tis the Sign of Cole's Book Arcade.
So, when in the sky a bow is displayed,
Be sure that you think of the Book Arcade.
Cole's Book Arcade strange as it looks,
Contains more than a million books.
New and second-hand, common and rare,
Can get most any book you want there.
[*] BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE: The reprintings of this book since Cole's
death in 1918 have involved very few changes, and in most cases it
has been bibliographically misleading to term them "editions".
Undoubtedly, somewhere in the past, the distinction between a
"printing" and an "edition" has not been understood. However, with
due cognisance of the irregularity, the practice of giving each
reprint a new edition number accompanied by a running sales total is
being maintained for statistical interest.
[Illustration: Portrait of E. W. Cole.]
Edward William Cole
Born Woodchurch, Kent, England
4th January, 1832
Died Essendon, Victoria, Australia
16th December, 1918
[Page 1--Australia]
Australia Is The Best Country On Earth
Australia a Grand Country
I think that Australia, for it's size, is, all-round, the best
country in the world. It's climate is pleasant and health-giving. It
has no desolating blizzards, no frost bites, and few sunstrokes. In
edible produce, for both size and quality, it stands very high, if
not the highest. I have been in many lands, but never saw a country
supply such a variety of products as Australia does--potatoes,
onions, cabbages, carrots, peas, beans and scores of other vegetables
in abundance. In fruits it produces apples, pears, plums, peaches,
oranges, grapes, and Northern Australia also produces all the
tropical fruits in abundance wherever cultivated. In corn Australia
produces superior wheat, oats, barley, maize and all other kinds in
abundance, especially when scientifically irrigated. As a milk,
butter and meat country, it is one of the best in the world. It is
the largest and best wool-producing country in the world. It contains
the largest area in the world especially suitable for growing cotton,
the most extensively-used clothing material. Flowers grow luxuriantly
and beautifully whenever cultivated and watered. A few years ago when
writing on the "White Australia" question, I stated that with high
culture, water irrigation, and scientific irrigation, Australia was
capable of supporting 400 millions of inhabitants. A high literary
authority, in reviewing the book, remarked that this seemed like a
"gross exaggeration"; but probably he had not thought so much on the
subject as I had.
I will here concisely state the principle reasons for my opinion. The
great want of Australia, to make it amazingly fruitful, is the
complete conservation of water and it's scientific application to the
soil. Water, warmth, and soil will grow anything in Australia, if
rationally managed. Australia has abundance of water now running to
waste. On thousands of house-roofs water enough is caught for the
domestic use of the respective families. Over large areas of the
country there are 30 inches of rainfall, and the average rainfall
over vast areas is 24 inches, and could be made much greater by
cultivation. Four-fifths of this water now runs to waste. Again
surface-parched Australia has vast areas of underground water which
only require to be tapped and brought to the surface, to irrigate and
fertilise the soil.
Australia is also a country where timber grows well and fast, if
planted in trenched ground and slightly irrigated. Hundreds of
straight trees can be grown upon an acre of land if they are first
planted thickly and some gradually thinned out. Many kinds of trees
will grow upon very poor soil if they are properly planted and
irrigated, as the bulk of their sustenance is derived from the air.
One more remark about trees and their possibilities as food
providers. Wherever any kind of tree will grow some kind of fruit
tree will grow. There are hundreds of millions of gum trees growing
in Australia. Where every one of these trees is, some kind of fruit
tree would grow if properly planted and looked after.
Again, to utilise Australia to it's full extent the whole world
should be sought through for the best plants and trees of every kind,
and only the very best grown, and those in situations and soil best
adapted for them.
One argument against Australia is that much of its surface is sandy,
but experiments and developments in various countries show that the
planting of marram grass, lupins, and other plants ties even the
drifting sand together and gradually, through their decay, turns the
sandy wastes into fertile soil. Besides, science can, in many other
ways, utilise the elements in the air to enrich the soil.
Australia's Mineral Resources
It has been objected that in the above epitome no mention is made of
the great mineral wealth of Australia. The reason is that minerals,
exceedingly useful as they are in the arts, are not absolutely
necessary (with the exception perhaps of iron) to the feeding,
clothing, and housing of mankind. Vast multitudes have lived without
them; but it may be remarked that Australia is a country very rich in
minerals; some hold it the richest in the world. It possesses immense
deposits of iron not yet utilised, and the most extensive gold-fields
yet discovered. Australia and Tasmania have, according to the latest
estimate of our Commonwealth Statistician, produced minerals to the
value of £660,252,694--comprising in round numbers, Gold
£474,000,000; Tin £24,000,000; and other kinds £8,000,000. The bulk
of the above has been produced during the last 60 years, in a
population rising from about 300,000 to 4,000,000 and it forecasts
how vast the mineral-producing future of Australia is likely to be.
Altogether Australia is a country as highly favoured by nature as any
other of equal size upon earth, for the bountiful production of
useful animals, vegetables, minerals, and men.
The Best Country On Earth--Unknown Australia
"'If we Australians took as much trouble to prepare for our summer
as the Canadians take to forestall their winter, Australia would be
THE MOST PROSPEROUS COUNTRY ON EARTH.'
The speaker was the Rev. A. R. Edgar, head of the Central Mission,
Melbourne.
"'After circling the globe, then, you are still satisfied that
Australia is not a bad country to live in?'
"'The best,' said Mr Edgar, emphatically. 'I have no hesitation in
saying that Canada and America are not to be compared with Australia.
Unfortunately, England doesn't know it. Australia herself doesn't
half realise it, and as for America and Canada, they haven't the
remotest ghost of a notion of it. In England they learn with
regrettable slowness, and their knowledge is scanty indeed; but
across the Atlantic the ignorance is deplorable. "Australia?" says
the Canadian. "Oh yes! Let's see, that's the place where it's always
droughty--yes, yes, to be sure, the place where y' can't get a drink
of water." He laughs at the idea of Australia producing as much wool
and wheat as Canada, and bluntly tells you there's no country on the
face of the planet can grow wheat and wool like his. But the fact is,
there isn't a bit of territory fit to compare with the Western
District of Victoria, for example, and conditions are infinitely
harder for the agriculturist than in Australia. Canada's western
district is icebound in winter, and her eastern lands are strewn over
with great boulders, between which the plough works laboriously in
and out'."--From the "New Idea."
I often feel for the dweller in Canada; for notwithstanding his
beautiful spring and autumn he has six months of ice and snow and
freezing winds, and I feel selfishly grateful that my lot is cast in
more genial Australia.
Let us well ponder Mr. Edgar's concise and forcible statement: "If we
Australians took as much trouble to prepare for our summer as the
Canadians take to forestall their winter, Australia would be the most
prosperous country on earth."
This is quite true. The Canadian must thoughtfully and rationally
prepare for his winter, or he would freeze and starve. We have no
frigid climate to prepare against, but we have possible drought, and
our first and greatest consideration should be the conservation of
water for irrigation.
This water conservation is exceedingly important thing. Men do not
think, and the waste is enormous. When the rain falls it runs into
the gully, from the gully to the creek, from the creek to the river,
from the river into the sea; and then in the dry season water is
deplorably scarce.
I once asked a young squatter from the New South Wales side of the
Murray "Have you got a garden?" He answered: "No: it is too dry up
our way!" I said, "How do you get water for domestic purposes?" He
answered, "We catch it off the roof; we catch it in 11 tanks and are
never out of a supply." I asked, "How large an area have all your
roofs put together?" He answered, "I think about 20 feet by 100
feet." This would be about a twentieth of an acre. Now just reflect!
One acre of rainfall would supply, if caught, 20 establishments like
that squatter's home, for the rain would fall fairly alike over that
part of the country. A rainfall of 30 inches over an acre of ground
measures about 680,000 gallons and weighs about 3000 tons, the bulk
of which is allowed to run away every year!
A gentleman said to me the other day, "Since the water was brought to
Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie, under Sir John Forrest's great scheme, they
have very beautiful gardens right along the line of supply. Wherever
the water touches the land the vegetation is splendid, and, what is
more, the evaporation is bringing heavier rainfall." Of course,
wherever cultivation and irrigation are carried on, more evaporation
takes place, and, in most cases, causes additional rainfall.
When I affirmed that Australia was capable of supporting 400 millions
of people I did not mean Australia as we now have it, but as it might
be, and probably will be, when water is carefully conserved and its
soil scientifically irrigated and cultivated.
E.W. Cole
[Page 2--Cole's Funny Picture Book]
[Illustration: I Want Cole's Funny Picture Book.]
[Page 3--Index]
This Is The Funniest Picture Book In The World For Children
If you search through the World you will not get a book that will so
please a child, if you pay £100 or even £1000 for it. To parents,
Grandparents, Uncles, Aunts, and Friends--Every Good Child should be
given one of these Books for being Good. Every Bad Child should be
given one to try to make it Good.
BABY RHYMES
Baby Going to Bed 4
Baby, Getting up 5
This Pig Went to Market 6
Baby Riding 6
Naughty Baby 7
LITTLE CHILDREN'S STORIES
Tom Thumb's Alphabet 8
Sing a Song-a-Sixpence 8
A Apple Pie 8
Captain Duck 8
Hey-Diddle-Diddle 9
GIRL LAND
Cry-Baby Belle 10
A Naughty Little Girl 10
Paulina Pry 10
Tearful Annie 10
Hattie's Birthday 11
Youth and Age 11
A Lost Child 11
Little Mary 11
Girl and Angel 11
Girl Who Wouldn't go to Bed 12
Girl That Beat Her Sister 12
The Sulky Girl 12
Girl Who Sucked Her Fingers 12
The Greedy Little Girl 12
Girl Who Played With Fire 12
The Vulgar Little Lady 12
Peggy Won't 13
The Wonderful Shadows 13
Little Bo-Peep 14
Pammy Was A Pretty Girl 14
The Little Husband 14
I'm Governess 14
Meddlesome Matty 15
Girl Who Spilled the Ink 15
Girl Who Was Always Tasting 15
Sally the Lazy Girl 15
Girl Who Wouldn't Comb Her Hair 15
The Nasty Cross Girls 15
Little Red Riding Hood 16
I'm Grandmama 16
The Babes in the Wood 16
Cinderella 17
The Three Bears 17
Bluebeard 17
My Girl 18
My Little Daughter's Shoes 18
The Old Cradle 18
A Little Goose 18
Girls 19
Girls Names 19
Vain Sarah 19
Several Kinds of Girls 19
Jumping Jennie 20
I Don't Care 20
Little Miss Meddlesome 20
Careless Matilda 20
Forty Little School Girls 21
Funny Monkeys 21
Tangle Pate 22
A Careless Girl 22
The Naughty Girl 22
Mopy Maria 22
Disobedient May 22
Sluttishness 22
Jane Who Bit Her Nails 22
Poking Fun 22
The Pin 23
Stupid Jane 23
Pouting Polly 23
Untidy Emily 23
Maidenhood 24
Girls That Are in Demand 24
Girls' Names 24
Name of Kate 24
Girl-Scolding Machine 25
Jenny Lee 26
Work Before Play 26
Lucy Grey 26
Mary Had a Little Lamb 26
We Are Seven 27
The poor But Blind Girl 27
Grace Darling 27
The Tidy Girl 27
Ruby Cole 28
BOY LAND
Vally Cole 29
Tom The Piper's Son 30
House That Jack Built 31
Simple Simon 31
Ten Little Niggers 31
Jack the Giant Killer 32
Jack and the Beanstalk 32
Hop-o-my-Thumb 33
Tom Thumb 33
Naughty Boys 34
Dirty Jack 35
Mischievous Fingers 35
Boy Stealing Apples 35
Playing With Fire 35
Wicked Willie 36
Rude, Bad, Naughty Boy 36
Little Chinky Chow 37
That Nice Boy 38
A Wicked Joking Boy 38
Jack the Glutton 39
Tom the Dainty Boy 39
A birds Nest Robber 39
A Cruel Boy 39
Boy Whipping Machine 40-41
DOLLY LAND
Puss's Doll 42
Pretty Doll 42
Dolly and I 43
Dolly's Broken Arm 43
Polly and Her Dolly 43
Singing to Dolly 44
My Dolly 44
Dolly's Asleep 44
Lost Dolly 45
Talking To Dolly 45
Darling Dolly 45
Ten Little Dollies 46
Washing-Day Troubles 47
New Tea Things 47
Doll Dress Making 48
Dolly Town 48
The Lost Doll 48
Dolly's Counterpane 48
Sewing For Dolly 48
My Little Doll Rose 48
The Wooden Doll 48
Buy My Dolls 48
Dolly's Doctor 49
Dolly's Broken Nose 49
The Dead Dolly 49
The Soldier Dolly 49
Christening Dolly 50
Maggie's Talk to Dolly 50
Minnie's Talk to Dolly 50
My Dolly 50
Dolly's Wedding 50
Grandmamma's Visit 51
Lucy's Dolls 51
The Doll Show 52
A Doll's Adventures 53
Story of a Doll 53
I'm Homesick Dolly Dear 54
A Thousand Names For
Dollies and Babies 55, 56, 57
NAUGHTINESS LAND
Good Mamma 58
How They Made Up 58
Cross Patch 58
Sulky Sarah 58
A New Year's Gift 59
Angry Words 59
Love One Another 59
Anger 60
Girl That Beat Her Sister 60
Little Dick Snappy 60
Where Do You Live 61
Govern Your Temper 61
The Ragged Girl's Sunday 62
Foolish Fanny 62
Pride 63
Finery 63
A Fop 63
Greedy Ned 64
Greedy Girl 64
Greedy Richard 64
Story Of an Apple 64
The Plum Cake 65
The Glutton 65
Hoggish Henry 65
Selfishness 65
Truthful Dottie 66
False Alarms 66
Girl That Told A Lie 66
Idle Mary 67
Lazy Sal 67
The Work Bag 67
The Two Gardens 67
Doing Nothing 67
Lazy Sam 68
The Beggar Man 68
Lazyland 68
The Lazy Boy 69
The Sluggard 69
Idle Dicky and the Goat 69
Come and Go 69
The Cruel Boy 70
Story of Cruel Fred 70
The Worm 70
No One Will See Me 71
Boy and His Mother 71
Boys and the Apple Tree 72
Thou Shalt Not Steal 72
The Thief 72
The Thieves' Ladder 73
SANTA CLAUS LAND
Santa Claus Land 74
A Visit From St. Nicholas 75
What Santa Claus Brings 75
Little Mary 75
Christmas 75
Christmas Eve Adventure 76
Little Bennie 76
Old Santa Claus 77
Night Before Christmas 77
Annie and Willie's Prayer 78
Budd's Stocking 79
Christmas Morning 79
Nellie And Santa Claus 80
Hang Up Baby's Stocking 80
PLAY LAND
Rabbit on the Wall 81
Little Romp 81
Tired of Play 82
The Lost Playmate 82
In The Toy Shop 83
Playing Store 83
Neat Little Clara 83
Hide and Seek 83
Little Sailors 84
Come Out to Play 84
Mud Pies 84
Hay Making 84
Johnny the Stout 85
Training Time 86
Playtime 87
Romping 87
Nurse's Song 87
Swinging 88
Skating 88
The skipping Rope 88
The Baby's Debut 89
READING LAND
Reading 90
Mrs Grammar's Ball 90
Grammar in Rhyme 90
Reading Land 91
WRITING LAND
Little Flo's Letter 92
The First Letter 92
Baby's Letter to Uncle 92
Nell's Letter 92
Two Letters 92
Going to Write to Papa 93
Papa's Letter 93
Polly's Letter to Ben 94
The Sunday Fisherman 95
Essay on Pictures 96
DRAWING LAND
The New Slate 97
Learning to Draw 98
A Lesson in Drawing 99
OLD MEN TALES
Old Man and His Wife 100
John Ball Shot Them All 100
Funny Old Man 100
Strange Men 100
Jack Sprat 101
Cross Old Man 101
Very Funny Men 101
Utter Nonsense 102
History Of John Gilpin 103
Australian Native Choir 104
OLD WOMEN TALES
Woman Who Lived in a Shoe 106
Mother Goose 107
Old Women of Stepney 107
Funny Old Women 108
Old Woman Who Went
Up in a Basket 108
Twenty-six Funny Women 109
TRAVELLING LAND
Forty Ways of Travelling 110-113
Flying Machines 114-117
NAME LAND
555 Boys' Names 118
555 Girls' Names 119
GAME LAND
Cole's Game of Hats
and Bonnets 120-123
Riddles and Catches 124-127
Picture Puzzles 128-143
Shadows on the Wall 144
Deaf and Dumb Alphabet 145
Language of Flowers 146
Kindness to Animals 147
Funny Australian Natives 148-149
PUSSY LAND
My Pussy 150
Pussy-Cat and Mousey 150
Puss and the Monkey 150
Mary's Puss Drowned 150
Dame Trot's Puss 151
Daddy Hubbard's Cat 152
Story of a Little Mouse 153
Tom, Puss, and the Rats 154
Puss in Boots 155
Monkey and the Cats 155
Dick Whittington 155
More Pussy Land 156
The White Kitten 157
Little Pussy 158
Puss and the Crab 158
Puss in the Corner 159
Tabby 159
Old Puss 159
Dead Kitten 160
My Own Puss 161
Putting Kitty to Bed 161
DOGGY LAND
Mother Hubbard and Dog 162
Puss and Rover 163
No Breakfast for Growler 163
Poor Old Tray 163
GOAT LAND
O'Grady's Goat 164
The Goat and the Swing 164
MONKEY LAND
Meddlesome Jacko 165
A Fruitless Sorrow 165
GEE-GEE LAND
The Wonderful Horse 166
The Horse 166
Good Dobbin 166
Horse Sentenced to Die 167
The Arab and His Horse 167
Farmer John 168
DONKEY LAND
The Cottager's Donkey 169
Old Jack the Donkey 169
Poor Donkey's Epitaph 169
MOO-MOO LAND
The Cow and the Ass 170
The Cowboy's Song 171
That Calf 171
BA-BA LAND
The Lost Lamb 172
The Pet Lamb 172-173
PIGGY LAND
The Pig is a Gentleman 174
Five Little Pigs 174
The Self-willed pig 174
Three Naughty Pigs 175
The Spectre Pig 175
The Chinese Pig 176
Dame Crump and Her Pig 176
Old Woman and Her Pig 177
The Three Little Pigs 177
BUNNY LAND
Disobedient Bunny 178
The Wild Rabbits 178
The Pet Rabbit 178
The Little Hare 179
The Poor Hunted Hare 179
Epitaph on a Hare 179
RAT LAND
Pied Piper of Hamelin 180
Wicked Bishop Hatto 181
MOUSEY LAND
The Three Mice 182
The Foolish Mouse 182
Run, Mousey, Run! 182
The Gingerbread Cat 182
A Clever Mother Mouse 183
The Mouse's Call 183
The Foolish Mouse 183
FROGGY LAND
The Foolish Frogs 184
Marriage of Mr. Froggie 184
Frogs at School 184
Frog That Went a Wooing 185
Mixed Animal Land 186-187
The Squirrel 188
Wonderful Bird Nests 189
Cole's Poems on Books 190
COMIC ADVERTISER
Serious Sambo 191
Laughter as a Medicine 191
Man Made to Laugh 191
Josh Billings' Prayer 191
Fun Better Than Physic 192
Fun About Music 193
Going to Coles' Book
Arcade 194-195
Wonderful Sea Serpent 196
Funny, Foolish and
Useful Fashions 197-201
Boy Smoking 202-203
Narcotics and Intoxicants 204
Pipes of the World 205
READER--There are only 365 pieces mentioned in this index, but the
Book contains 2,000 pieces and pictures, large and small. It is a
complete cyclopoedia of child-lore, and first-class kindergarten
book--to amuse and teach at the same time. No child's book ever
published has been, nor is now, so great a favourite as this one.
[Page 4--Baby Rhymes]
[Illustration: Tired And Going To Bed.]
A Piece of Poetry for Mother and Father to Read
I suppose if all the children,
Who have lived through ages long,
Were collected and inspected
They would make a wondrous throng.
Oh the babble of the Babel!
Oh, the flutter and the fuss;
To begin with Cain and Abel,
And to finish up with us!
Some have never laughed nor spoken,
Never used their rosy feet;
Some have even flown to heaven,
Ere they knew that earth was sweet.
And indeed, I wonder whether,
If we reckon every birth,
And bring such a flock together,
There is room for them on earth.
Think of all the men and women
Who are now and who have been;
Every nation since creation
That this world of ours has seen.
And of all of them not any
But was once a baby small;
While of children, oh, how many
Never have grown up at all.
[Page 5--Baby Rhymes]
[Illustration: Getting Up As Happy As Larks.]
Who will wash their smiling faces?
Who their saucy ears will box?
Who will dress them and caress them?
Who will darn their little socks?
Where are arms enough to hold them?
Hands to pat each smiling head?
Who will praise them? who will scold them?
Who will pack them off to bed?
Little happy Christian children,
Little savage children too,
In all stages of all ages,
That our planet ever knew;
Little princes and princesses,
Little beggars, wan and faint--
Some in very handsome dresses,
Naked some, bedaubed with paint.
Only think of the confusion
Such a motley crowd would make;
And the clatter of their chatter,
And the things that they won't break
Oh the babble of the Babel!
Oh, the flutter and the fuss;
To begin with Cain and Abel,
And to finish up with us!
[Page 6--Children's Rhymes]
Children's Rhymes
[Illustration: This Pig Went To Market.]
1. This pig went to market:
2. This pig stayed at home:
3. This pig had meat:
4. This pig had none:
5. And this pig cried, "Wee, wee," all the way home.
Game of Child's Features
Here sits the Lord Mayor! (forehead)
Here sits his two men! (eyes)
Here sits the cock! (right cheek)
Here sits the hen! (left cheek)
Here sit the little chickens! (tip of nose)
Here they run in; (mouth)
Chinchopper, chinchopper,
Chinchopper, chin! (chuck the chin)
Face Game
Ring the bell! (giving its hair a pull)
Knock at the door! (tapping its forehead)
Draw the latch! (pulling up it's nose)
And walk in! (putting finger in mouth)
Face Game
(Eye) Bo Peeper! (Nose) Nose dreeper!
(Chin) Chinchopper!
(Teeth) White Lopper!
(Mouth) little gap! (Tongue) and red rag!
Game on the Toes
1. Let us go to the wood, says this pig;
2. What to do there? says that pig;
3. Too look for my mother, says this pig;
4. What to do with her? says that pig;
5. Kiss her to death, says this pig.
Going to Market
To market, to market, to buy a fat pig;
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog;
Home again, home again, joggety-jog.
Baby Riding
Ride baby, ride, pretty baby shall ride,
And have a little puppy-dog tied to her side.
And a little pussy-cat tied to the other,
And away she shall ride to see her grand-mother,
To see her grandmother.
Ride a Cock-Horse
Ride a cock-horse to banbury-cross,
To see what Tommy can buy;
A penny white loaf, a penny white cake,
And a two-penny apple pie.
Ride a cock-horse to banbury-cross,
To see a young lady on a white horse,
Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes,
And so she makes music wherever she goes.
Baby Riding
This is the way the ladies ride;
Tre, tre, tree,
This is the way the ladies ride;
Tre, tre, tree.
This is the way the gentlemen ride;
Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot!
This is the way the gentlemen ride;
Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot!
This is the way the farmers ride;
Hobbledy-hobbledy-hoy!
This is the way the farmers ride;
Hobbledy-hobbledy-hoy!
Clap Hands
Clap hands, clap hands,
Till father comes home;
For father's got money,
But mother's got none.
When Dad Comes Home
You shall have an apple,
You shall have a plum,
You shall have a rattle,
When your dad comes home.
Pat-A-Cake
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man!
So I will, master, as fast as I can,
Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T,
Put it in the oven for Tommy and me.
Come, Butter, Come
Churn, butter, churn! come, butter, come!
Peter stands at the gate,
Waiting for a butter cake;
Come, butter, come!
Baby Crying
When Jacky's a very good boy,
He shall have cakes and a custard;
But when he does nothing but cry,
He shall have nothing but mustard.
[Page 7--Children's Rhymes]
Hickup, go away.
Hickup, hickup, go away!
Come again another day:
Hickup, hickup, when I bake,
I'll give to you a butter-cake.
Dance, Baby.
Dance, little baby, dance up high,
Never mind, baby, mother is nigh;
Crow and caper, caper and crow--
There, little baby, there you go!
Up to the ceiling, down to the ground,
Backwards and forwards, round and round.
Dance, little baby, and mother will sing!
Merrily, merrily, ding, dong, ding!
Dance, Little Baby.
Dance to your daddy,
My little babby,
Dance to your daddy,
My little lamb.
You shall have a fishy
In a little dishy;
You shall have a fishy
When the boat comes in.
Danty Baby Diddy.
Danty baby diddy,
What can a mammy do wid'e,
But sit in a lap,
And give 'un a pap?
Sing danty baby diddy.
Hush-a-bye Baa Lamb.
Hush-a-bye, a baa lamb,
Hush-a-by a milk cow,
You shall have a little stick
To beat the naughty bow-wow.
Bye, Baby Bunting.
Bye, baby bunting,
Daddy's gone a hunting,
To get a little rabbit skin
To wrap a baby bunting in.
Hush-a-bye Baby.
Hush-a-bye baby, on the tree top,
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall;
Down will come baby, bough, cradle, and all.
Hush-a-bye baby, Daddy is near:
Mammy's a lady, and that's very clear.
Rock-a-bye Baby.
Rock-a-bye baby, thy cradle is green;
Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen;
And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring,
And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king.
Kissing Baby.
My dear cockadoodle, my jewel, my joy,
My darling, my honey, my pretty, sweet boy;
Before I do rock thee with soft lullaby,
Give me thy dear lips to be kiss'd, kiss'd, kiss'd.
Good-night Baby
Baby, baby, lay your head
On your pretty cradle bed;
Shut your eye-peeps, now the day
And the light are gone away;
All the clothes are tucked in tight,
Little baby, dear, good night.
Lie still with Daddy.
Hush thee, my babby,
Lie still with thy daddy,
Thy mammy has gone to the mill,
To grind thee some wheat,
To make thee some meat,
And so, my babby, lie still.
[Illustration: Monkey Feeding Baby.]
Monkey feeding Baby.
Oh, my lady! my lady! my lady!
Here's that funny monkey
Has put on your night-cap,
And is feeding
The baby! the baby! the baby!
Baby getting up
Baby, baby ope your eye,
For the sun is in the sky,
And he's peeping once again
Through the pretty window pane:
Little baby, do not keep
Any longer fast asleep.
Washing Baby's Hands
Wash hands, wash,
Daddy's gone to plough;
If you want your hands wash'd,
Have them washed now.
Combing Baby's Hair
Comb hair, comb,
Daddy's gone to plough;
If you want your hair comb'd
Have it combed now.
Baby Brother
My pretty baby-brother
Is six months old to-day,
And though he cannot speak,
He knows whate'er I say.
Whenever I come near,
He crows for very joy;
And dearly do I love him,
The darling baby-boy.
Baby
He opens his mouth when he kisses you;
He cries very loud when he misses you;
He says "Boo! boo! boo!" for "How-do-you-do?"
And he strokes down your face when he's loving you.
Learning to walk alone
Come, my darling, come away,
Take a pretty walk to-day;
Run along, and never fear,
I'll take care of baby dear;
Up and down with little feet,
That's the way to walk, my sweet.
See-Saw
See-saw sacradown,
Which is the way to London town,
One foot up is the other down,
That is the way to London town.
Naughty Baby
Baby, baby Charlie,
Naughty in his play,
Slapping little Annie,
Pushing her away.
Patting with his soft hands,
Laughing in his fun;
Slapping with such good-will,
That the tear-drops run.
Do not cry, dear Annie,
Wipe away the tear;
Keep away from Charlie,
Do not come so near,
Or his little hands will
Pull your curly hair;
Peep at baby, Annie--
Peep behind the chair.
Kiss the baby, darling,
Kiss the little one;
He is only playing,
In his baby fun.
[Page 8--Little Children's Stories]
Tom Thumb's Alphabet
A was an archer, who shot at a frog;
B was a butcher, who had a great dog;
C was a captain, all covered with lace;
D was a drunkard, and had a red face;
E was an esquire, with pride on his brow;
F was a farmer, who followed the plough;
G was a gamer, who had but ill luck;
H was a hunter, and hunted a buck;
I was an innkeeper, who loved to bouse;
J was a joiner, and built up a house;
K was King William, once governed this land;
L was a lady, who had a white hand;
M was a miser, and hoarded up gold:
N was a nobleman, gallant and bold;
O was an oyster girl, and went about town;
P was a parson, and wore a black gown;
Q was a queen, who wore a silk slip;
R was a robber, and wanted a whip;
S was a sailor, and spent all he got;
T was a tinker, and mended a pot;
U was an usurer, a miserable elf;
V was a vintner, who drank all himself;
W was a watchman, and guarded the door;
X was expensive, and so became poor;
Y was a youth, that did not love school;
Z was a Zany, a poor harmless fool;
Sing a Song-a-Sixpence
Sing a song-a-sixpence,
A pocket full of rye;
Four-and-twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing:
Was that not a dainty dish
To set before the king?
The king was in his counting-house,
Counting out his money,
The queen was in the parlour,
Eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden,
Hanging out the clothes;
Down came a blackbird,
And snapt off her nose.
Old Chairs to Mend
If I'd as much money as I could spend,
I never would cry old chairs to mend;
Old chairs to mend, old chairs to mend;
I never would cry old chairs to mend.
If I'd as much money as I could tell,
I never would cry old clothes to sell;
Old clothes to sell, old clothes to sell;
I never would cry old clothes to sell.
Dad's gane to Ploo
Cock-a-doodle-doo,
My dad's gane to ploo;
Mammy's lost her pudding-poke
And knows not what to do.
Hot Cross Buns
Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns!
One a penny, two a penny,
Hot-cross buns!
Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns!
If you have no daughters,
Give them to your sons.
Rabbit Pie
Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit-pie!
Come, my ladies, come and buy;
Else your babies they will cry.
[Illustration: Baker With Pie.]
A--Apple-Pie
A apple pie;
B bit it;
C cut it;
D danced for it;
E eat it;
F fought for it;
G got it;
H had it;
I ignored it;
J jumped for it;
K kept it;
L longed for it;
M mourned for it;
N nodded at it;
O opened it;
P peeped in it;
Q quartered it;
R ran for it;
S stole it;
T took it;
U uncovered it;
V viewed it;
W wanted it;
X ax'ed for it;
Y yawned for it:
Z cried, "Zounds! let's eat it up."
Three Men in a Tub
Rub a dub, dub,
Three men in a tub;
And who do you think they were?
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker,
They all came out of a rotten potato.
Dinner
Hey ding a ding, what shall I sing?
How many holes in a skimmer?
Four-and-twenty, my stomach is empty;
Pray mamma, give me some dinner.
The Barber
Barber, barber, shave a pig,
How many hairs will make a wig?
"Four-and-twenty, that's enough,"
Give the barber a pinch of snuff.
Punch and Judy
Punch and Judy fought for a pie;
Punch gave Judy a blow on the eye.
Pease Pudding
Pease pudding hot,
Pease pudding cold,
Pease pudding in the pot,
Nine days old.
Porridge
A little bit of powdered beef,
And a great net of cabbage,
The best meal I have to-day
Is a good bowl of porridge.
Shaving
The barber shaved the mason,
As I suppose cut of his nose,
And popp'd it in a basin.
Captain Duck
I saw a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea;
And, oh! it was all laden
With pretty things for thee.
There were comfits in the cabin,
And apples in the holds;
The sails were made of silk,
And the masts were made of gold.
The four-and-twenty sailors
That stood between the decks,
Were four-and-twenty white mice,
With chains about their necks.
The captain was a duck,
With a packet on his back;
And when the ship began to move,
The captain said "Quack quack!"
Little Tee Wee
Little Tee Wee' he went to sea
In an open boat; and while afloat
The little boat bended,
And my story's ended.
[Page 9--Children's Rhymes]
Jack be Quick
Jack be nimble, and Jack be quick;
And Jack jump over the candle-stick.
Jack Sprat
Jack Sprat had a cat,
It had but one ear;
It went to buy butter
When butter was dear.
Jack Horner
Little Jack Horner sat in the corner,
Eating a Christmas Pie;
He put in his thumb, and he took out a plum,
And said, "What a good boy am I!"
Tom Tucker
Little Tom Tucker
Sings for his supper;
What shall he eat?
White bread and butter.
How shall he cut it
Without e'er a knife?
How will he be married
Without e'er a wife?
Georgie Porgie
Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
When the girls came out to play
Georgie Porgie ran away.
See-Saw
See-saw, Margery Daw,
Little Jacky shall have a new master;
Little Jacky shall have but a penny a day,
Because he can't work any faster.
Little Lad
Little lad, little lad, where wast thou born?
Far off in Lancashire, under a thorn,
Where they sup sour milk in a ram's horn.
Jack-a-Dandy
Handy Spandy, Jack-a-dandy,
Loved plum-cake and sugar-candy;
He bought some at a grocer's shop,
And out he came, hop, hop, hop.
My Son John
Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John
Went to bed with his stockings on;
One shoe off, the other shoe on.
Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John
Jack and Jill
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.
Who Can Draw Best
Willie drew a little pig,
Harry drew a mouse,
Tommy drew a ladder tall
Leaning on a house.
Baa, Baa Black Sheep
Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, marry have I,
Three bags full:
One for my master,
And one for my dame,
But none for the little boy
Who cries in the lane.
[Illustration: Cat With Fiddle.]
Hey diddle diddle
Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon;
The little dog laughed to see such sport,
And the dish ran after the spoon.
The Quaker's Version
"Hey! diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped under the moon;
The little dog barked
to see such sport
And the cat ran after the spoon!" [*]
[*] Our friend, the Quaker, holds that the last verse is the proper
one, as it is the truest; but the wonderful is taken out of it, and
children, accordingly, prefer the first. There is nothing wonderful
in the cow jumping "under" the moon, but there is in the cow jumping
"over" the moon, so with the black-birds baked in a pie. It is the
fact of their singing when the pie is opened that pleases the
children--'twas the wonder of the thing; so with the freaks of
Mother Hubbard's Dog, etc. In nearly all nursery rhymes it is the
ludicrous and wonderful that arrests the attention and pleases.
E. W. Cole
Frightened Boy
There was a little boy, went into a barn,
And lay down on some hay;
An owl came out, and flew about,
And the little boy ran away.
Frightened Boys
Tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee
Resolved to have a battle,
For tweedle-dum said tweedle-dee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Just then flew by a monstrous crow,
As big as a tar-barrel,
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.
Baked in a Pie
Baby and I
Were baked in a pie,
The gravy was wonderful hot;
We had nothing to pay
To the baker that day
And so we crept out of the pot.
Maid not at Home
High diddle doubt, my candle's out,
My little maid is not at home;
Saddle my hog, and bridle my dog,
And fetch my little maid home.
Dame not at Home
Rowsty dowt, my fire's all out,
My little dame is not at home;
I'll saddle my goose and bridle my hen,
And fetch my little dame home again;
Home she came, tritty trot;
And asked for the porridge she left in the pot.
All in the Dumps
We're all in the dumps,
For diamonds are trumps;
The kittens are gone to St. Paul's!
The babies are bit,
The moon's in a fit,
And the houses are built without walls.
Hot Rolls
Blow, wind, blow! and go, mill, go!
That the miller may grind his corn;
That the baker may take it,
And into rolls make it,
And send us some hot in the morn.
Rosemary green,
And lavender blue,
Thyme and sweet marjoram,
Hyssop and rue.
Bed Time
Come, let's to bed, says Sleepy-head
Tarry a while says Slow;
Put on the pot, says Greedy-Jock,
Let's sup before we go.
Go to Bed First
Go to bed first,
A golden purse;
Go to bed second,
A golden Pheasant;
Go to bed third,
A golden bird.
[Page 10--Girl Land]
[Illustration: The three Cry-Babies.]
Cry-Baby Belle
Cry-baby Belle
Is always in tears
Nothing you can give her can ease her!
Sugar and spice,
And everything nice,
Kisses and cakes will not please her.
She'll cry if she happens
To get a slight fall,
She'll cry if the naughty boys tease her;
She'll cry for a spoon,
And she'll cry for the moon;
So there's no use in trying to please her.
If the food set before her
Don't happen to suit--
Oh, then just as loud as she's able,
This cry-baby Belle
Will set up a yell,
And scare all the folks at the table.
If she wants to go out
In the street she will cry;
If she wants to come in how she screeches!
For nothing at all
She will set up and bawl,
Unmindful of comforting speeches,
She screams in the morning
Because she's not dress'd;
And at night when they want to undress her
More loudly she'll roar,
And roll over the floor
As if she had pains to distress her.
She cries when she's sick,
And she cries when she's well,
And often cries when she's sleeping,
So that heavy and red,
And most out of her head
Are her eyes, on account of such weeping.
She always is fretful,
Unhappy, and cross,
No matter what she may be doing,
And cry-baby Belle
Pleases nobody well
Because of her constant boo-hooing.
For a Naughty Little Girl
My sweet little girl should be careful and mild,
And should not be fretful, and cry!
Oh! why is this passion? remember, my child,
God sees you, who lives in the sky.
That dear little face, which I like so to kiss,
How frightful and sad it appears!
Do you think I can love you, so naughty as this,
Or kiss you so wetted with tears?
Remember, tho' God is in heaven, my love,
He sees you within and without,
And he always looks down from His glory above,
To notice what you are about.
If I am not with you, or if it be dark,
And nobody is in the way,
His eye is as able your doings to mark,
In the night as it is in the day.
Then dry up your tears, and look smiling again
And never do things that are wrong;
For I'm sure you must feel it a terrible pain,
To be naughty, and crying so long.
Paulina Pry
Paulina Pry
Would eat nothing but pie;
Pie was her daily diet;
Apple or plum,
She must have some
Or else she wouldn't be quiet.
She would not eat
Any bread or meat,
Though plenty of these were handy,
But would pout and cry
For a piece of pie,
Or a stick of sugar-candy.
They heard her cry
In the Land of Pie,
And sent her dozens and dozens,
Both tender and tough,
Till she'd had more than enough
For her sisters, her aunts and her cousins.
Tearful Annie
Poor little Annie, you will find,
Is very gentle, good, and kind,
But soon a a fault appears.
The slightest thing will give her pain,
Her feelings she can ne'er restrain,
But gives way to her tears.
The other day when Ferdinand--
And if you search throughout the land,
No nicer boy you'll find--
Said something which he never meant
To cause the slightest discontent,
For hours she sobbed and whined.
Her father grieved, said: "This must cease
We never have a moment's peace,
She cries both day and night."
A portrait painter then he paid,
To paint his little tearful maid,
Crying with all her might.
He set to work that very day,
Directly he received his pay;
The picture soon was done.
Yes, there she was, all sobs and sighs,
Large tear-drops streaming from her eyes.
"How like!" said every one.
It was in truth a great success;
Quite perfect, neither more nor less;
Her father was so glad.
He hung the portrait in her room;
It filled her with the deepest gloom;
She felt annoyed and sad.
With every relative who came,
And saw the picture, 'twas the same,
All startled with affright.
Uncles, and aunts, and cousins too,
Found it so striking, life-like, true
That soon they took to flight.
Annie not long could this endure;
It brought about a speedy cure,
She ceased to cry and moan.
Her father ceased to scold and frown,
He had the picture taken down,
And in the garret thrown.
[Illustration: Tearful Annie's Likeness.]
[Page 11--Girl Land]
[Illustration: Our Christmas Hamper.]
Hattie's Birthday
Oh! This is a happy, beautiful world!
My heart is light and gay;
The birds in the trees sing blithely to me
And I'm six years old to-day.
Yes, six, and father has bought me a book,
And mother, the sweetest doll,
All dressed in white with blue eyes bright,
And the nicest hat and shawl.
My kitty sat quietly near the fire
As Dolly and I came by;
Miss Dolly bowed, and pussy meowed,
And opened her yellow eye.
Ah me! if Kit could only talk,
And Dolly could but chat,
We'd social be as any three--
Talk, sing, and all of that.
I dressed all up in grandma's cap,
And put on her glasses too;
"Why, Grandma!" I said, as I looked at myself,
"I'm almost as old as you."
My mother softly kissed my cheek,
And then she blessed me too,
Praying that I, as years went by,
Might be as good and true.
My birthday song is a merry one,
And my heart is warm and light;
Kind father, mother, and dear grandma,
Sweet dolly and pussy, good night.
Youth and Age
A funny thing I heard to-day,
I might as well relate.
Our Lil is six, and little May
Still lacks a month of eight.
And, through the open play-room door,
I heard the elder say:
"Lil, run downstairs and get my doll;
Go quick, now--right away!"
And Lillie said--(and I agreed
That May was hardly fair):--
"You might say 'please,' or go yourself--
I didn't leave it there."
"But, Lillie," urged the elder one,
"Your little legs, you know,
Are younger than mine are, child,
And so you ought to go!"
Children
"I would not be a girl," said Jack,
"Because they have no fun;
They cannot go a-fishing, nor
A-shooting with a gun;
They cannot climb up trees for fruit,
Nor bathe without a bathing dress,
Which is no fun at all."
"I would not be a boy," said May,
"For boys are nasty things,
With pockets filled with hooks and knives,
And nails, and tops and strings
And when a boy becomes a man,
He's got to buy girls rings;"
A Lost Child
"I'm losted! Could you find me, please?"
Poor little frightened baby!
The wind had tossed her golden fleece,
The stones had scratched her dimpled knees,
I stooped and lifted her with ease,
And softly whispered "Maybe."
"Tell me your name, my little maid:
I can't find you without it."
"My name is Shiny-eyes," she said,
"Yes; but your last name?" She shook her head:
"Up to my house 'ey never said
A single word about it."
"But, dear," I said, "what is your name?"
"Why, didn't you hear me told you?
Dust Shiny-eyes." A bright thought came:
"Yes, when you're good. But when they blame
You little one,--is it just the same
When mamma has to scold you?"
"My mamma never scolds," she moans,
A little blush ensuing,
"'Cept when I've been a-frowing stones;
And then she says (the culprit owns),--
Mehitabel Sapphira Jones.
What has you been a-doing?"
Anna E. Burnham
Little Mary
Here stands little, little Mary,
With her face of winning grace,
Chattering tongue that runs apace,
And her ways contrary
Who so gay as Mary?
With her laughs of rippling glee
Brimming o'er with melody,--
Bonny, blithesome Mary.
Household pet is Mary--
Such a merry, joyous sprite,
Filling all our home with light--
Pretty winsome Mary!
Mischief-loving Mary,
Busy as the busiest bee,
Full of sunshine, life, and glee
Is our heart's sweet Mary!
Girl and Angel
As Peter sat at Heaven's gate
A maiden sought permission,
And begged of him, if not too late,
To give her free admission.
"What claim hast thou to enter here?"
He cried with earnest mien.
"Please sir," said she, 'twixt hope and fear,
"I'm only just sixteen!"
"Enough," the hoary guardian said,
And the gate wide open threw.
"That is the age when every maid
Is girl and angel too."
[Illustration: Our Country Cousin.]
[Page 12--Naughty Girls]
Girl Who Wouldn't Go to Bed
Once I knew a little girl,
Who wouldn't go to bed,
And in the morning always had
A very sleepy head.
At night she'd stop upon the stairs,
And hold the railings tight
Then with a puff she'd try to blow
Out Mary Ann's rushlight.
The bed at last they tuck'd her in,
The light she vow'd to keep;
Left in the dark she roar'd and cried;
Till tired she went to sleep.
Little Girl that Beat her Sister
Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss
Your little sister dear;
I must not have such things as this,
Nor noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scold and fight
Who ought to be so mild;
Oh! Mary, 'tis a shocking sight
To see an angry child.
I can't imagine for my part,
The reason of your folly,
As if she did you any hurt
By playing with your dolly.
Children Should not Quarrel
Let dogs delight to bark an bite,
For God hath made them so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight:
For 'tis their nature to.
But children you should never let
Such angry passions rise;
Your little hands were never made
To tear each other's eyes.
The Sulky Girl
Why is Mary standing there,
Leaning down upon the chair,
With pouting lip and frowning brow?
I wonder what's the matter now.
Come here, my dear, and tell me true,
Is it because I spoke to you
About what you just now had done,
That you are such a naughty one?
When, then, indeed, I'm grieved to see
That you can so ill-tempered be:
You make your faults a great deal worse
By being sulky and perverse.
Oh! how much better it appears,
To see you melting into tears,
And then to hear you humbly say,
"I'll not do so another day!"
The Little Girl that did not Like to be Washed
What! cry when I wash you! not love to be clean?
There, go and be dirty, unfit to be seen;
And till you leave off, and I see you have smiled,
I'll not take the trouble to wash such a child.
The Girl who Sucked her Fingers
A little girl, named Mary Kate,
Whom you may have chance to see,
Would have been loved by small and great,
But for one thing, which I'll relate;
So listen now to me.
A silly habit she's acquired
Of putting in her mouth,
The pretty fingers of her hand,
And sucking them, for hours she'd stand,
In a manner most uncouth.
Her play-companions used to laugh,
And jeeringly would say,
"Oh, pray bring Mary Kate some crumbs,
Poor thing! she's dining off her thumbs,
She'll eat them all away."
[Illustration: Girl Stealing Treacle.]
Girl Stealing Treacle
This is Nelly Pilfer;
I'll tell you what she earned
By stealing off the treacle
When Mary's back was turned.
They caught the greedy Nelly
With treacle on her hand,
They put her in the corner,
And there they made her stand.
The Girl who Soiled her Clothes
Little Polly Flinders,
Sat among the cinders,
Warming her pretty toes;
Her mother came and caught her,
And scolded her little daughter,
For spoiling her nice new clothes.
The Greedy Little Girl
I knew a greedy little girl,
Who all day long did roar;
Whatever toys were given her,
She always wanted more.
Five dolls she had--one was black,
A ball and battledore,
But held them all so very tight,
The roar'd and scream'd for more.
Now this was wicked of the child,
As everyone must own;
So for the whole of one long day
They shut her up alone.
The Girl Who Played with Fire
Mamma, a little girl I met,
Had such a scar, I can't forget!
All down her arms and neck and face;
I could not bear to see the place.
Poor little girl! and don't you know
The shocking trick that made her so?
'Twas all because she went and did
A thing her mother had forbid.
For once, when nobody was by her,
This silly child would play with fire;
And long before her mother came,
Her pinafore was all in flame.
In vain she tried to put it out,
Till all her clothes were burnt about;
And then she suffer'd ten times more,
All over with a dreadful sore.
For many months before 'twas cured,
Both day and night the pain endured;
And still you see, when passing by her,
How sad it is to play with fire.
Little Miss Consequence
Little Miss Consequence strutted about,
Turned up her nose, pointed her toes,
And thought herself quite a grand person, no doubt.
Gave herself airs; took many cares,
To appear old; was haughty and cold.
She spoke to the servants like a dog or a cat
And fussed about this, and fussed about that.
The Vulgar Little Lady
"But, mamma, now," said Charlotte, "pray don't you believe
That I'm better than Jenny my nurse?
Only see my red shoes, and the lace on my sleeve;
Her clothes are a thousand times worse.
"I ride in my coach, and have nothing to do.
And the country folks stare at me so;
And nobody dares to control me but you,
Because I'm a lady, you know.
"Then servants are vulgar and I am genteel;
So, really, 'tis out of the way,
To think that I should not be better a deal
Than maids, and such people as they."
"Gentility, Charlotte," her mother replied,
"Belongs to no station or place;
And nothing's so vulgar as folly and pride,
Though dressed in red slippers and lace.
"Not all the fine things that fine ladies possess
Should teach them the poor to despise;
For 'tis in good manners, and not in good dress,
That the truest gentility lies."
[Page 13--Naughty Girls]
[Illustration: Girl Who Wouldn't be Dressed.]
[Illustration: Naughty, Dirty Girl.]
Peggy Won't
"I won't be dressed, I won't, I won't!"
Cried Peggy one morn to mamma.
"Very well, dear," was quietly said,
"I'll teach you how silly you are."
Peggy then frowned and set her lips
Expecting a kiss as of old,
But mother had gravely walked away,
And Peggy was getting so cold.
The minutes passed, and Peggy sighed,
For thoughts of her breakfast arose,
And "Mammy, dear," she loudly wept,
While stamping her bare little toes.
Then mother came, and firmly said,
"I'm taking you, dear, at your word;
'I won't be dressed--I won't, I won't!'
Has many times lately been heard.
"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
[Illustration: Girl in Disgrace.]
[Illustration: Another Naughty Girl.]
[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.
[Illustration: I'm Governess.]
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.
[Illustration: Children Stealing Jam.]
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.
[Illustration: I'm Grandmamma.]
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.
[Illustration: The Three Bears.]
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]
[Illustration: Our three Little Belles.]
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]
[Illustration: The Playmates.]
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.
[Illustration: Puzzle, Where are the cats?]
[Page 20--Girl Land]
[Illustration: Jumping Jennie.]
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]
[Illustration: 40 Girls in Hats.]
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.
N.B.--Any little girl is invited to walk, run, jump, dance, skip,
hop, swim, fly, or come into Cole's Book Arcade in any way she
chooses, the same as the Forty Little School Girls.
Story Of The Funny Monkeys
Once there was a funny old monkey--and this old monkey had six young
monkeys. There was one white monkey, and one black monkey, and one
yellow monkey, and one red monkey, and one blue monkey, and one green
monkey; and the white monkey's name was Linda, and the black monkey's
name was Eddie, and the yellow monkey's name was Vally, and the red
monkey's name was Ruby, and the blue monkey's name was Pearl, and the
green Monkey's name was Ivy Diamond. And the white monkey liked
apples, and the black monkey liked grapes, and the yellow monkey
liked cherries, and the red monkey liked strawberries, and the blue
monkey liked oranges, and the green monkey liked nuts, and that's all
about these FUNNY MONKEYS. The names of any children can be told in
this story instead of Linda, Eddie, Vally, Ruby, Pearl, and Diamond.
[Page 22--Girl Land]
[Illustration: Tangle Pate.]
Tangle Pate
There was a girl, named tanglepate,
She lived--I won't say where--
Who was not willing any one
Should comb or curl her hair.
She cried and made a dreadful fuss,
At morning, noon, or night,
And did not seem at all ashamed
Of looking like a fright.
Her hair stood out around her head
Just like a lion's mane,
And she was scolded, coaxed, and teased
About it--but in vain.
It caught on buttons, hooks, and boughs
As here and there she rushed,
And yet she would not consent
To have it combed or brushed.
And so she fell asleep one day
Within the woods, and there
Two birdies came and built a nest
Amid her tangled hair.
A Careless Girl
I know a very careless girl,
Her hair is always out of curl,
In rags and tatters are her clothes,
And she's a fright, you may suppose.
Her skirts she catches on a nail,
And leaves behind and ugly trail;
Her sashes always are untied,
Her dresses always gaping wide.
'Tis her delight to tear and rend,
She does not like to patch or mend,
And 'tis no wonder that she goes
So out at elbows and at toes.
Naughty Girl
The naughty girl
Never minds mamma,
Always says, "I won't!"
To dear papa!
Makes a great deal of noise
About the house.
When her mother wants her
As still as a mouse.
She pinches the cat,
She pulls her tail;
And takes the bird-cage
Down from the nail;
Teases her brothers,
And spoils her hair,
And reproved says,
"I don't care!"
She worries poor grandma,
Makes baby cry;
She cannot please him,
And I know why:--
She lets him lie
In the crib and moan,
While she is amusing
Herself alone.
At school she forgets
What the teacher said,
Sits idly leaning her hands
On her head;
She never learns
The task that's given,
And cannot tell even
Seven times seven.
At table she's careless,
And spills her drink,
Can never be taught
To "stop and think;"
Gets down from the table
And goes to play,
To do the same over
Another day.
Mopy Maria
Mopy Maria
Would sit by the fire,
It seemed to be
Her greatest desire;
Bent and bowed
As if wrapped in a shroud,
And her face as black
As a thunder-cloud.
She filled the room
So full of gloom,
The place was as
Dismal as a tomb;
And few would admire
Her, or desire
To spend much time
With Mopy Maria,
She moped and pined
Yet no-one could find
That any trouble
Disturbed her mind;
Nor reasons good
Why she should brood
An such a
Ridiculous attitude.
It wasn't her style
To laugh and smile
She didn't think
It was worth her while;
So dull and flat
She daily sat
Like a Chinese idol,
Or worse than that,
If the children came
To propose a game
Of any sort,
It was all the same;
She wouldn't play,
She wouldn't be gay,
But sat and pouted
The livelong day.
Her face grew thin;
And at length her chin
Grew long and sharp;
Oh! as sharp as a pin!
And one windy day
She blew away
Like a great big kite
That had gone astray.
The winds were high,
And she had to fly
Away at their bidding;
It made her cry;
But she couldn't get higher
Than the tall church spire,
So there she stuck--
Poor Mopy Maria!
Disobedient May
Naughty May will not obey,
But will always have her way
Every moment of the day.
If you say do this, or that,
She will be amazed thereat,
Show her claws like any cat.
O she is a naughty child!
Very fond of running wild,
Never gentle, meek, or mild.
Some fine day, I don't know when--
She'll be popp'd in piggy's pen,
And be most unhappy then.
Pigs are stubborn things indeed,
Will not go as you would lead,
Never words of counsel heed.
And pig-headed folks are they
Who will always have their way,
Spite of anything you say.
Sluttishness
Oh! Mary, my mary,
Why, where is your dolly?
Look here, I protest, on the floor:
To leave her about
In the dirt so is folly,
You ought to be trusted no more.
I thought you were pleas'd.
And receiv'd her quite gladly,
When on your birthday she came home;
Did I ever suppose
You would use her so sadly,
And strew her things over the room?
Her bonnet of straw
You once thought a great matter,
And tied it so pretty and neat;
Now see how 'tis crumpled,
No trencher is flatter,
It grieves your mamma thus to see't.
Suppose (you're my Dolly,
You know, little daughter,
Whom I love to dress neat, and see good),
Suppose in my care of you,
I were to falter,
And let you get dirty and rude!
But Dolly's mere wood,
You are flesh and bone living,
And deserves better treatment and care;
That is true, my sweet girl,
'Tis the reason I'm giving
This lesson so sharp and severe.
'Tis not for the Dolly
I'm anxious and fearful,
Tho' she cost too much to be spoil'd;
I'm afraid lest yourself
Should get sluttish, not careful,
And that were a sad thing, my child.
Jane, who Bit her Nails
When I was living down in Wales,
I knew a girl who bit her nails;
Her finger-ends became so sore,
The blood flowed from them to the floor.
The more she bit the more they bled,
Until upon herself she fed;
And as she nibbled day by day,
The fingers slowly wore away.
See, here she is: she sadly stands
With only stumps instead of hands;
The silly girl can never play,
Yet she was cautioned every day.
Her father said, "You naughty thing,
Some wooden fingers I must bring,
And try to get them fastened to
Your hands with little bits of glue."
Poking Fun
When little Lizzie came across
A birdie, or a chick,
A duckling, or a gosling,
she would poke it with a stick.
She chased the dog, she chased the cat,
But when she saw a mouse
She gave a scream so very loud
It echoed through the house.
She poked the turtles and the frogs
And thought it was fine fun,
But when the geese poked out their necks
At her, she had to run.
One day she chanced to find a hive
With not a bee about,
And said, "Is any one at home?
"I'll very soon find out!"
And so she did. As soon as she
Had poked her stick inside,
The bees flew out and stung her so
She very nearly died.
[Page 23--Girl Land]
The Pin
"Dear me! what signifies a pin,
Wedg'd in a rotten board?
I'm certain that I won't begin,
At ten years old, to hoard!
I never will be called a miser;
That I'm determined," said Eliza.
So onward tripped the little maid,
And left the pin behind,
Which very snug and quiet lay,
To its hard fate resign'd;
Nor did she think (a careless chit)
'Twas worth her while to stoop for it.
Next day a party was to ride
To see an air balloon;
And all the company beside
Were dressed and ready soon:
But she a woful case was in,
For want of just a single pin.
In vain her eager eyes she brings
To ev'ry darksome crack,
There was not one! and yet her things
Were dropping off her back.
She cut her pincushion in two,
But no, not one had slidden through.
At last, as hunting on the floor,
Over a crack she lay,
The carriage rattled to the door,
Then rattled fast away:
But poor Eliza was not in,
For want of just a single pin.
There's hardly anything so small,
So trifling or so mean,
That we may never want at all,
For service unforseen;
And wilful waste, depend upon't
Brings, almost always, woful want!
Ann Taylor
Stupid Jane
Oh! she was such a stupid Jane,
They tried in vain
To make things plain,
But she would ask and ask again,
As if there wasn't any brain
Inside the head of stupid Jane.
If she was set to do a task,
So many questions she would ask,
'Twas easier far her teachers said
To do the work themselves instead,
Than try to make her understand
The lesson she had in hand.
If on an errand told to go,
And cautioned to do thus and so,
Turn here and there along the way,
Oh! Jane was sure to go astray;
For she hade such a crooked pate,
She could not do an errand straight.
She did not care for books or toys,
She could not play with girls or boys;
Because so oft she blocked their games,
They used to call her dreadful names,
And in loud, angry tones complain,
"Oh, what a horrid, Stupid Jane!"
Brought to the parlour nicely drest
To be presented to a guest,
With finger in her mouth she'd stand
And stare about on every hand,
Nor answer by a single word,
Nor even act as if she heard.
Oh! she was such a stupid Jane,
They tried in vain
To make things plain,
But she would ask and ask again,
As if there wasn't any brain
Inside the head of stupid Jane.
Little Girl who wouldn't eat Crusts
The awfullest times that ever could be
They had with a bad little girl of Dundee,
Who never would finish her crust
In vain they besought her,
And patiently taught her
And told her she must.
Her grandma would coax,
And so would the folks,
And tell her the sinning
Of such a beginning.
But no, she wouldn't.
She couldn't, she shouldn't,
She'd have them to know--
So they might as well go.
And what do you think came to pass?
This little girl of Dundee, alas!
Who wouldn't take crusts the regular way,
Sat down to a feast one summer's day;
And what did the people that little girl give?
Why, a dish of bread pudding--as sure as I live!
Pouting Polly
Polly was a little girl,
Pretty as a posy;
Rather straight, and rather tall;
Very round and rosy.
Other little girls and boys
Always were delighted,
So if to pretty Polly's house
They had been invited.
There they'd romp, and have great fun,
Frolicking and shouting;
But alas! they soon would find
Pretty Polly pouting!
What had any one done?
How had they displeased her?
Was she sad or mad because
Johnny Dean had teased her?
Why are you so cross and glum
When the rest are jolly?
With your under-lip thrust out,
Tell us, pouting Polly!
Polly loves to have her way;
Ah! no one can doubt it;
And whenever she's displeased
She will pout about it.
Such a funny under-lip!
You would like to grab it,
So that little Polly might
Break this naughty habit.
In the house or out-of-doors,
Little Polly Horner
You will find a dozen times
Pouting in a corner.
Once, when in the garden she
Stood thus melancholy,
On her under-lip a bee
Stung Miss Pouting Polly.
Then she danced, and then she screamed;
People heard her yelling
Half-a-mile or more away,
While her lip was swelling.
Oh, it swelled, and swelled, and swelled,
Like a great big blister,
And the pain was very great
Where the bee had kissed her.
Many days she kept her bed;
And there is no doubting
That the sorry little maid
Had her fill of pouting.
For the buzzing busy-bee
Cured her of her folly;
And the remedy will cure
Any pouting Polly.
Untidy Emily
Oh, here's a sad picture!
Pray carefully look!
As sad as was ever
Yet seen in a book.
'Tis Emily's portrait:
Not at all flattered.
Slovenly, dirty, untidy,
And tattered.
Her mother implores her,
Again and again,
To make herself tidy;
But all is in vain.
Her trimmings are torn;
There's a hole in her dress;
Another, still larger;
Her shoes in a mess;
Stockings down, buttons missing;
Shabby old hat,
Not for worlds would I
Wear it, battered and flat.
Her mother does nothing
But patch, darn and mend,
Till, saddened and weary,
She says, "This must end.
"All, all is in vain.
And now, happen what may,
I can do nothing more;
So go your own way."
A terrible thing
Very soon now befell,
Oh, horror! I shudder
The story to tell.
This girl ran quite wild;
Till at last she became
All tatters and rags,
With no feeling of shame.
A man, who was passing,
Then took her one day,
And in his field placed her,
To scare birds away.
She is still standing there;
Stands there day and night.
The sparrows fly round her,
And cry in affright:
"Look at this dreadful thing!
Take care now, take care!
Beware of the scarecrow!
Beware, now, beware!"
[Illustration: Untidy Emily.]
[Page 24--Girl Land]
[Illustration: My Five Sisters.]
Maidenhood
Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes,
In whose orbs a shadow lies,
Like a dusk in evening skies!
Thou, whose locks outshine the sun,
Golden tresses, wreathed in one,
As the braided streamlets run!
Standing, with reluctant feet,
Where the brook and river meet!
Womanhood and childhood fleet!
Gazing, with a timid glance,
On the brooklet's swift advance,
On the river's broad expanse!
Deep and still, that gliding stream
Beautiful to thee must seem,
As the river of a dream.
Then why pause with indecision,
When bright angels in thy vision
Beckon thee to fields of Elysian?
Seest thou shadows sailing by,
As the dove, with startled eye,
Sees the falcon's shadow fly?
Hearest thou voices on the shore,
That our ears perceive no more,
Deafen'd by the cataract's roar?
O, thou child of many prayers!
Life hath quicksands--Life hath snares!
Care and age come unawares!
Like the swell of some sweet tune,
Morning rises into noon,
May glides onward into June
Childhood is the bough where slumber'd
Birds and blossoms many-number'd--
Age, that bough with snows encumber'd
Gather, then each flower that grows,
When the young heart overflows,
To embalm that tent of snows
Bear a lily in thy hand;
Gates of brass cannot withstand
One touch of that magic wand
Bear, through sorrow, wrong, and ruth,
In thy heart the dew of youth,
On thy lips the smile of truth.
Oh! that dew, like balm, shall steal
Into wounds, that cannot heal,
Even as sleep our eyes doth seal:
And that smile, like sunshine, dart
Into many a sunless heart,
For a smile of God thou art.
Longfellow
Girls that are in Demand
The girls that are wanted are good girls--
Good from the heart to the lips;
Pure as the lily is white and pure,
From it's heart to its sweet leaf tips.
The girls that are wanted are home girls--
Girls that are a mother's right hand,
That fathers and brothers can trust to,
And the little ones understand.
The girls that are fair on the hearthstone,
And pleasant when nobody sees;
Kind and sweet to their own folks,
Ready and anxious to please.
The girls that are wanted are wise girls,
That know what to do and to say;
That drive with a smile and soft word
The wrath of the household away.
The girls that are wanted are girls of sense,
Whom fashion can never deceive;
Who can follow whatever is pretty,
And dare what is silly to leave.
The girls that are wanted are careful girls,
Who count what a thing will cost.
Who use with a prudent generous hand,
But see that nothing is lost.
The girls that are wanted are girls with hearts,
They are wanted for mothers and wives,
Wanted to cradle in loving arms
The strongest and frailest lives.
The clever, the witty, the brilliant girl,
There are few who can understand,
But, oh! for the wise, loving home girls
There's a constant steady demand.
Girl's Names
Francis, is "unrestrained and free;"
Bertha, "pellucid, purely bright;"
Clara, "clear" as the crystal sea;
Lucy, a star of radiant "light;"
Catherine, is "pure" as mountain air;
Barbara, cometh "from afar;"
Mabel, is "like a lily fair;"
Henrietta, a soft, sweet "star;"
Felicia, is a "happy girl;"
Matilda, is a "lady true;"
Margaret, is a shining "pearl;"
Rebecca, "with the faithful few;"
Susan, is a "lily white;"
Jane has the "willow's" curve and grace;
Cecilia, dear, is "dim of sight;"
Sophia, shows "wisdom" on her face;
Constance, is firm and "resolute;"
Grace, a delicious "favour meet;"
Charlotte, "noble, of good repute;"
Harriet, a fine "odour sweet;"
Isabella, is "a lady rare;"
Lucinda, "constant" as the day;
Maria, means a "lady fair;"
Abigail, "joyful as the May;"
Elizabeth, "an oath of trust;"
Adeline, "nice princess, proud;"
Agatha, "is truly good and just;"
Leila, "a joy of love avowed;"
Jemima, "a soft sound in air;"
Caroline, "a sweet spirit, hale;"
Cornelia, "harmonious and fair;"
Selina, "a sweet nightingale;"
Lydia, "a refreshing well;"
Judith, "a song of sacred praise;"
Julia, "a jewel none excel;"
Priscilla, "ancient of days."
Kate
There's something in the name of Kate
Which many will condemn;
But listen now while I relate
The traits of some of them.
There's deli-Kate, a modest dame,
She's worthy of your love!
She's nice and beautiful a flame,
And gentle as a dove,
Communi-Kate's intelligent,
As we may well suppose;
Her fruitful mind is ever bent
On telling all she knows.
There's intri-Kate, she's so obscure
'Tis hard to find her out;
For she is often very sure
To put your wits to rout.
Prevari-Kate's a surly maid,
She's sure to have her way;
The cavilling, contrary jade,
Objects to all you say.
There's alter-Kate, a perfect pest;
Much given to dispute;
Her prattling tongue can never rest,
You cannot her refute.
Then dislo-Kate, is quite a fret,
Who fails to gain her point;
Her case is quite unfortunate
And sorely out of joint.
Equivo-Kate no one will woo--
The thing would be absurd.
She is so faithless and untrue,
You cannot take her word.
There's vindi-Kate, she's good and true,
And strives with all her might
Her duty faithfully to do
And battles for the right.
There's rusti-Kate, a country lass,
Quite fond of rural scenes;
She likes to ramble through the grass
And through the evergreens.
Of all the maidens you can find,
There's none like edu-Kate;
Because she elevates the mind
And aims at something great.
[Illustration: My Five Cousins.]
[Page 25--Girl Land]
[Illustration: Electro-Micro Scolding Machine.]
Coles Electro-micro Scolding Machine For Scolding Naughty Girls
Cole's Electro-micro Scolding Machine is a combination of three
instruments, the Phonograph, the Microphone, and the Wonderphone.
The Phonograph is an instrument that will preserve words for any
length of time. Any person can speak, sing, whistle, or scold into a
Phonograph, and months or years afterwards by simply turning a handle
the same sounds can be reproduced a dozen, a hundred, or a thousand
times in the exact voice of the person who spoke them in; so that if
a man or a woman, who is a great scold, speak some good, loud, severe
scolding into a Phonograph, the mildest teacher can then scold her
pupils, or the kindest mother her children, just by turning the
handle.
The Microphone is an instrument that magnifies sound in the same way
as a microscope magnifies objects; a very powerful microphone
magnifies the sound of a fly walking into a loud tramping footstep,
the tick of a watch into a deafening clatter, and a whisper into a
loud shout. Take a Microphone, then properly affix it to the
Phonograph described above, and you have a good Scolding Machine;
turn the handle, and as the Phonograph gives out the scoldings, the
microphone part magnifies them so loudly that they are heard for a
considerable distance.
The Wonderphone (Cole's own secret) is another remarkable instrument;
it will cause sound to travel very distinctly, but frightfully and
equally loud, for forty miles in all directions; by attaching this
powerful instrument to the combination of the other two, Cole's
Electro-micro Scolding Machine is formed--and which is the first
Scolding Machine ever invented. If the machine is already _charged_
by having had some scolding spoken, or even whispered into it, give
the handle a turn, and forty miles to the east, forty miles to the
west, forty to the north, forty to the south, forty up in the sky,
and down in the mines forty miles deep, in fact forty miles in every
direction, everybody can clearly hear every word being said to the
girl being scolded. Suppose for instance, Hannah Maria Smith had done
something wrong in school, the schoolmistress could give the handle
of the machine a turn, and it would scold her so loudly that her
mother, and father, and brothers, and sisters, and uncles, and aunts,
and friends, and those she didn't like would all hear her scolded.
The machine can be charged on the instant by anyone scolding into it.
In fact the whole value of Cole's Scolding Machine lies in its power
to repeat out exceedingly loud whatever is spoken into it.
If the schoolmistress chooses she can put the scolding into verse, so
that all who hear it in the forty miles around, can more easily
remember it. The machine that I have before me now, was charged this
morning for an aristocratic school and speaks as follows:--Silence!!
Attention!!!
Ada Alice Arabella Angelina Andal,
Why do you talk for ever, such a tittle-tattling scandal?
Betsy Bertha Bridget Belinda Bowing,
Will you be quiet and go on with your sewing?
Cora Caroline Christina Clarinda Clare,
Now do look in the glass at your untidy hair.
Dorah Dinah Dorothy Dorinda Dresson,
You really must get on with your short drawing lesson.
Edith Ellen Evelina Elizabeth Eadle,
This makes this day your nineteenth broken needle.
Fanny Florence Frederica Florinda Flynn,
How cruel of you to prick Jane with a pin.
Grace Gertrude Genevieve Georgina Grimble,
You careless girl to lose your silver thimble.
Hilda Hanna Harriet Henrietta Hawker,
You really are a most inveterate talker.
Ida Izod Irene Isabella Inching,
You spiteful--stop that scratching and pinching.
Jane Julia Josephine Jemima Jesson,
Sit down at once and learn your music lesson.
Kate Kester Katrina Kathleen Kent,
You're vulgar, saucy, rude and insolent.
Lizzie Letitia Lucretia Lorinda Loeries,
You're the champion of the world for telling stories.
Maud Mary Martha Matilda Moyes,
Sends letters to, and flirts with, naughty boys.
Nancy Nelly Ninette Naomi Nations,
Shame of you to talk 'gainst other girls' relations.
Olive Osberta Orphelia Octavia O'Dyke,
Your conduct is outrageous and unladylike.
Polly Patience Prudence Paulina Pitt,
You really are our champion tell-tale-tit.
Quilla Quintina Quinburga Quendrida Quirk,
How very, very, dirty you have made your fancy-work.
Rose Ruth Rachel Rebecca Ritting,
Now stop that crying and get on with your knitting.
Sarah Sophia Selina Susannah Stacies,
Don't spoil your face by making those grimaces.
Tilda Theresa Tabitha Theodora Tapping,
You'd gain the prize if one was given for slapping.
Una Ursula Urica Urania Urls,
You'd gain the prize for teasing little girls.
Venus Violet Victoria Veronica Vo-shi,
Just learn your task and put away that crochet.
Wilmett Walberg Winefride Wilhelmina Wriggling,
Now once for all do stop that stupid giggling.
Xenodice Xanthippe Xanthisa Xenophona X-cess,
You think and talk of nothing else but dress! dress!
Yana Yulga Yapeena Yestina Young,
Will you behave yourself and just draw in your tongue.
And lastly and worst of all, you,
Zoe Zora Zillah Zenobia Zeen,
How dare you! how dare you!! yes, how dare you!!!
Sneer at the boy's new whipping Machine.
Notice To The Public
If a schoolmistress chooses to live a hundred or a thousand miles
away from her school, she can use the Scolding Machine by means of a
_Telephone_ attached thereto.
One great advantage of the Electro-micro Scolding Machine is, that
after it has been in use a short time the girls will all have been
shamed into good behaviour; but the Machine will not become useless,
as it can, without a farthing outlay, be turned into a Praising
Machine, for it can be made to praise in a gentle voice as well as
scold in a harsh one. In fact, as said above it will repeat in exact
tones, anything that is recited, preached, sung, whistled, whispered,
shouted, scolded or praised into it--and any of which will be heard
for forty miles around.
Cole can supply Scolding Machines from £5 to £50. A very good one
(The Excelsior), price £10, can be charged in one minute, and set
going like a musical box, and will sing, whistle, recite, preach, or
scold away for a full hour without stopping. Cole would particularly
recommend this one to the ladies, it would make a fine ornament for
their own table.
Final Notice Extraordinary--If the champion male scold of the world,
and the champion female scold of the world, will call on Professor
Cole, at the Book Arcade, Melbourne, he will give them both good
wages, and find them constant employment at charging Scolding
Machines. If any wife has got the champion male scold for a husband,
she will please to let me know. If any husband has got the champion
female scold for a wife, he will please to let me know--£10 bonus
for information in each case.
E.W. Cole
[Page 26--Good Girls]
Jenny Lee
An orphan child was Jenny Lee;
Her father, he was dead.
And very hard her mother worked;
To get the children bread.
In winter time, she often rose
Long ere the day was light,
And left her orphan family,
Till dark again at night.
And she would always say to Jane,
Before she went away;
"Be sure you mind the little ones,
And don't go out to play.
"Keep baby quiet in his bed,
As long as he will lie;
Then take him up, and dance him well,
Don't leave him there to cry.
"And don't let little Christopher,
Get down into the street,
For fear he meets an accident
Beneath the horse's feet.
"And mind about the fire, child,
And keep a tidy floor;
We never need be dirty, Jane,
Although we may be poor.
"Good-by my precious comforter,
For all the neighbours say,
That I can trust my little maid,
Whenever I'm away."
Then Jenny she was quite as proud
As England's noble Queen,
And she resolved to do the work,
And keep the dwelling clean.
She did not stop to waste her time,
But very brisk was she,
And worked as hard and cheerfully
As any busy bee.
If down upon the cottage floor
Her little brother fell,
She stroked the places tenderly,
And kissed and made them well.
And when the little babe was cross,
As little babes will be,
She nursed and danced it merrily,
And fed it on her knee.
But when they both were safe in bed,
She neatly swept the hearth,
And waited until her mother's step
Came sounding up the path.
Then open flew the cottage door,
The weary mother smiled.
"Ah! Jenny dear, what should I do,
Without my precious child!"
Work Before Play
"Mother has sent me to the well,
To fetch a jug of water,
And I am very glad to be
A useful little daughter;
That's why I cannot play
With you and Mary Ann to-day.
"Some afternoon I'll come with you,
And make you wreaths and posies;
I know a place where blue-bells grow,
And daisies and primroses;
But not to-day, for I must go
And help my mother, dears, you know.
"She says, that I am nearly eight,
So I can fill the kettle,
And sweep the room and clean the grate,
And even scrub a little;
Oh! I'm so very glad to be
A little useful girl, you see.
"So Johnny, do not ask to-day--
Perhaps I'll come to morrow;
But you'd not wish me now to stay,
And give my mother sorrow.
When she can spare me, she will say,
'Now, Susan, you may go and play.'"
[Illustration: Lucy Gray and Father.]
Lucy Gray
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray;
And, when I crossed the wild,
I managed to see at break of day
The solitary child.
No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor,--
The sweetest thing that ever grew
Besides a human door!
You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.
"To-night will be a stormy night--
You to the town must go;
And take a lantern, child, to light
Your mother through the snow."
"That, father, will I gladly do!
'Tis scarcely afternoon--
The minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon."
At this the father raised his book
And snapped a faggot band;
He piled his work,--and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.
Not blither is the mountain roe;
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.
The storm came on before it's time;
She wandered up and down;
And many a hill did Lucy climb,
But never reached the town.
The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide,
But there was neither sound or sight
To serve them for a guide.
At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlooked the moor;
And thence they saw the bridge of wood
A furlong from their door.
And, turning homeward, now they cried
"In heaven we shall meet!"
When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.
Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
They tracked the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn edge,
And by the long stone wall.
And then an open field they crossed--
The marks were still the same;
They tracked them on, nor ever lost;
And to the bridge they came.
They followed from the snowy bank
The footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank;
And further there were none!
Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living child;
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome wild.
O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.
Mary's Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb,
It's fleece was white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go.
He followed her to school one day--
That was against the rule;
It made the children laugh and play,
To see a lamb at school.
The teacher therefore turned him out;
But still he lingered near,
And on the grass he played about
Till Mary did appear.
At once he ran to her, and laid
His head upon her arm,
As if to say, I'm not afraid--
You'll keep me from all harm.
"What makes the lamb love Mary so?"
The little children cry;
"Oh! Mary loves the lamb you know,"
The teacher did reply.
[Page 27--Girl Land]
We are Seven
I met a little cottage girl;
She was eight years old, she said;
Her head was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair,
Her beauty made me glad.
"Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said,
And wondering, looked at me.
"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
"Two of us in the churchyard lie--
My sister and my brother;
And in the churchyard cottage I
Dwell near them with my mother."
"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea;
Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid how this may be?"
Then did the little maid reply,
Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree."
"You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive!
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little maid replied;
"Twelve steps or more, from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.
"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
I sit and sing to them.
"And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was little Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain,
And then she went away.
"So in the churchyard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.
"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."
"How many are you then? said I,
"If they two are in heaven!"
The little maiden did reply
"O master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead;
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little maid would have her will,
And say, "Nay, we are seven."
The Poor, but Kind Girl
Young Lucy Payne lives on the Village Green;
Mary, you know the cottage, I am sure,
Under the hawthorn! 'Tis so neat and clean,
Though Widow Payne, alas! is blind and poor.
She plies her needles, and she plies them well,
And Lucy never spends an idle hour;
On market days their mits and socks they sell,
And thus their balls of worsted turn to flour.
I pass'd one morning by their cottage door;
Lucy was talking to a little child,
A ragged thing that lives upon the moor;
It's parents leave it to run rude and wild.
Hanger had tamed the little wilding thing,
It's cheeks were hollow, but it's air was light;
Young Lucy did not know I saw her bring
That porringer she kept so clean and bright.
It was her breakfast--all the darling had;
But oh! she gave it with a heart so glad.
[Illustration: Grace Darling Rowing in Storm.]
Grace Darling
"Over the wave, the stormy wave,
Hasten, dear father, with me,
The crew to save from a wat'ry grave,
Deep in the merciless sea.
Hear ye the shriek, the piercing shriek,
Hear ye the cry of despair?
With courage quick the wreck we'll seek;
Danger united we'll dare.
"Out with the boat, the gallant boat;
Not a moment to be lost;
See! she's afloat, proudly afloat,
And high on the waves we're tossed;
Mother, Adieu, a short adieu;
Your prayers will rise to heaven;
Father to you--your child and you--
Power to save is given.
"I have no fear, no maiden fear;
My heart is firm to the deed,
I shed no tear, no coward tear;
I've strength in time of need.
Hear ye the crash, the horrid crash?
Their mast over the side is gone;
Yet on we dash, 'mid lightning flash,
Safe through the pelting storm.
"The wreck we near, the wreck we near,
Our bonny boat seems to fly,
List to the cheer, their welcome cheer,
They know that succour is nigh."
And on that night, that dreadful night,
The father and daughter brave,
With strengthened might they both unite,
And many dear lives they save.
Hail to the maid, the fearless maid,
The maid of matchless worth;
She'll e'er abide the cherished pride
Of the land that gave her birth.
The send her gold, her name high uphold,
Honour and praise to impart;
But, with true regard, the loved reward
Is the joy of her own brave heart.
The Tidy Girl
Who is it each day in the week may be seen,
With her hair short and smooth, and her hands and face clean;
In a stout cotton gown, of dark and light blue,
Though old, so well mended, you'd take it for new;
Her handkerchief tidily pinned o'er her neck.
With a neat little cap, and an apron of check;
Her shoes and her stockings all sound and all clean?
She's never fine outside and dirty within.
Go visit her cottage, though humble and poor.
'Tis so neat and so clean you might eat off the floor;
No rubbish, no cobwebs, no dirt can be found,
Though you hunt every corner, and search all around.
Who sweeps it so nicely, who makes all the bread,
Who tends her sick mother, and works by her bed?
'Tis the neat, tidy girl--she needs no other name;
Abroad or at home, she is always the same.
I Will be Good To-Day
"I will be good, dear mother,"
I heard a sweet child say;
"I will be good; now watch me--
I will be good all day."
Oh, many, many, bitter tears
'Twould save us, did we say,
Like that dear child, with earnest heart,
"I will be good to-day."
My Own Dear Little Sister
I have a little sister,
She's only three years old;
I do most dearly love her,
She's worth her weight in gold.
We often play together
And I begin to find,
To make my sister happy,
I must be very kind.
[Page 28--Ruby Cole And Her Clever Frog]
[Illustration: Music score for 'What Our Ruby Did'.]
What Our Ruby Did
She danced like a Fairy,
She sung like a Frog,
She squeaked like a Pig,
She barked like a dog.
Oh yes! Oh yes! She did! She Did!
And Frog-gy played a tune.
She mooed like a Bullock,
She baaed like a Ram,
She leaped like a Goat,
She skipped like a Lamb--Oh yes!
She brayed like a Donkey,
She cried like a Hare,
She neighed like a Horse,
She growled like a Bear!--Oh yes!
She munched like a Rabbit,
She gnawed like a Rat,
She popped like a Mouse,
She flew like a Bat--Oh yes!
She talked like a Parrot,
She quacked like a Drake,
She mewed like a Cat,
She hissed like a Snake--Oh yes!
She climbed like a Squirrel,
She flopped like a Seal,
She ran like a Deer,
She slid like an Eel--Oh yes!
She crept like a Tortoise,
She soared like a Lark,
She drank like a Fish,
She ate like a Shark--Oh yes!
She roared like a Lion,
She dived like a Whale,
She swam like a Goose,
She crawled like a Snail--Oh yes!
She croaked like a Raven,
She screeched like an Owl,
She cawed like a Crow,
She crowed like a Fowl--Oh yes!
She grinned like a Monkey,
She hummed like a Bee,
She buzzed like a Fly,
She jumped like a Flea--Oh yes!
[Illustration: Ruby Cole dancing.]
Our dear little daughter once went to a children's ball dressed as a
fairy. She was proud of being a fairy, and looked so nice that I put
together the above nursery doggerel to please her, and in honour of
the event, little thinking that she would soon leave this world. It
might be considered better by some to remove this page, but as
children like it I venture to let it stand with this explanation.
E. W. C.
[Illustration: Clever Frog playing Fiddle.]
Sacred to the Memory of our dear LITTLE RUBY, who departed this life
March 27th, 1890, aged 8 years. She was intelligent, industrious,
affectionate and sociable, and is deeply regretted by all who knew
her.
There is no flock, however watched and tended
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoever defended
But has one vacant chair!
There is no death! what seems so is transition
This life of mortal breath,
Is but a suburb of life Elysian
Whose portal we call death.
She is not dead--the child of our affection--
But gone unto that school
Where she no longer needs our poor protection
And GOD himself doth rule.
[Page 29--Vally Cole And His Clever Dog]
[Illustration: Vally Cole.]
Our Vally had a Clever Dog,
whose name was EBENEZER.
Sometimes this dog was very good,
At other times a TEASER.
[Illustration: Vally and Ebenezer sitting on rail.]
One day they went to take a bath,
And both sat on a rail;
Our Vally hung his legs right down,
The dog hung down his tail.
[Illustration: Ebenezer and Tom snoozing.]
This funny Dog one Christmas day,
Directly after dinner,
Just lean'd his sleepy head against
Old Tom, our snoozing sinner.
[Page 30--Boy's Stories]
Tommy Trot, a man of law,
Sold his bed and lay upon straw;
Sold the straw and slept on grass,
To buy his wife a looking-glass.
---
Little Jack Jingle,
He used to live single;
But when he got tired of this kind of life,
He left off being single, and lived with his wife.
---
I'll tell you a story
About Jack Nory,--
And now my story's begun:
I'll tell you another
About Jack his brother,--
And now my story's done.
---
Poor old Robinson Crusoe!
Poor old Robinson Crusoe!
They made him a coat
Of an old nanny-goat,
I wonder how they could do so!
With a ring and a ting tang,
And a ring and a ting tang,
Poor old Robinson Crusoe!
---
"John, come sell thy fiddle,
And buy thy wife a gown."
"No; I'll not sell my fiddle
For any wife in town."
---
Jacky, come give me thy fiddle
If ever thou mean'st to thrive;
Nay, I'll not give my fiddle
To any man alive.
If I should give my fiddle,
They'll think that I'm gone mad,
For many a joyful day
My fiddle and I have had.
---
Jack was a fisherman
Who went out one day,
But couldn't catch a single fish,
And so he came away.
And then he came home,
This angler so bold,
And found he'd caught something--
For he'd caught a cold.
---
The Queen of Hearts,
She made some tarts,
All on a summer day;
The Knave of Hearts
He stole those tarts
And took them clean away.
The King of Hearts
Called for the tarts,
And beat the knave full sore;
The Knave of Hearts
Brought back the tarts,
And vowed he'd steal no more.
---
Charley Wag
Ate the pudding and left the bag.
---
Tom, The Piper's Son
Tom, Tom, the piper's son,
Stole a pig and away did run!
The pig he eat, and Tom they beat,
And Tom went roaring down the street.
Tom, he was a piper's son:
He learned to play when he was young:
But all the tunes that he could play
Was, "Over the hills and far away;
Over the hills and a great way off,
And the wind will blow my topknot off."
Now Tom with his pipe made such a noise,
That he pleased both the girls and the boys,
And they stopped to hear him play
"Over the hills and far away."
[Illustration: Tom Piping, Pigs Dancing.]
Tom with his pipe did play with such skill,
That those who heard him could never keep still:
Whenever they heard they began for to dance,
Even the pigs on their hind legs would after him prance.
As Dolly was milking her cow one day,
Tom took out his pipe and began for to play;
So Doll and the cow danced "the Cheshire round,"
Till the pail they broke and the milk ran on the ground.
He met old Dame Trot with a basket of eggs,
He used his pipe and she used her legs;
She danced about till all the eggs she broke,
She began for to fret, but he laughed at the joke.
He saw a cross fellow beating an ass,
Heavily laden with pots, pans, dishes and glass;
He took out his pipe and played them a tune,
And the jackass did kick off his load very soon.
Tom met the parson on his way,
Took out his pipe, began to play
A merry tune that led his grace
Into a very muddy place.
The mayor then said he would not fail
To send poor Tommy off to gaol.
Tom took his pipe, began to play,
And all the court soon danced away.
'Twas quite a treat to see the rout,
How clerks and judges hopped about;
While Tommy still kept playing the tune,
"I'll be free this afternoon."
The Policeman Grab, who held him fast,
Began to dance about at last;
Whilst Tom, delighted at the fun,
Slipped out of court and off did run.
---
Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief,
Taffy came to my house, and stole a piece of beef.
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was not at home;
Taffy came to my house and stole a marrow-bone.
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was not in.
Taffy came to my house, and stole a silver pin.
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was in bed.
I took up a poker and flung it at his head.
---
Old King Cole
Was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe,
And he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.
---
Peter White will ne'er go right;
Would you know the reason why?
He follows his nose where'er he goes,
And that stands all awry.
[Page 31--Boy Land]
The House That Jack Built
This is the house that Jack built.
This is the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cock that crowed in the morn,
That awaked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the farmer sowing his corn,
That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,
That awaked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
[Illustration: Simple Simon Meets Pieman.]
Simple Simon
Simple Simon met a pieman
Going to the fair;
Says Simple Simon to the pieman:
"Let me taste your ware."
Says the pieman to Simple Simon,
"Show me first the penny."
Says Simple Simon to the pieman:
"Indeed I have not any."
Simple Simon went a-fishing
For to catch a whale--
All the water he had got
Was in his mother's pail.
Simple Simon went to look
If plums grew on a thistle;
He pricked his fingers very much,
Which made poor Simon whistle.
He went to catch a dicky bird,
And thought he could not fail
Because he'd got a little salt
To put upon it's tail.
Then Simple Simon went-a-hunting,
For to catch a hare.
He rode on a goat about the street,
But could not find one there.
Simon made a great snowball,
And brought it in to roast;
He laid it down before the fire,
And soon the ball was lost.
Simple Simon went a-skating
When the ice was thin,
And Simon was astonished quite
To find he tumbled in.
And Simon he would honey eat
Out of the mustard pot;
He bit his tongue until he cried:
"That was all the good he got."
Ten Little Niggers
Ten little Niggers going out to dine,
One choked his little self, and then there were Nine.
Nine little Niggers crying at his fate,
One cried himself away, and then there were Eight.
Eight little Niggers to travelling were given.
But one kicked the bucket, and then there were Seven.
Seven little Niggers playing at their tricks,
One cut himself in halves, and then there were Six.
Six little Niggers playing with a hive,
A bumble bee killed one, and then there were Five.
Five little Niggers went in for law,
One got into Chancery, and then there were Four.
Four little Niggers going out to sea,
A ref herring swallowed one, and then there were Three.
Three little Niggers walking in the Zoo,
A big bear cuddled one, and then there were Two.
Two little Niggers sitting in the sun,
One got frizzled up, and then there was One.
One little Nigger living all alone,
He got married, and then there were None.
[Page 32--Boy Land]
Jack the Giant Killer
Once upon a time there lived in Cornwall, England, a lad whose name
was Jack, and who was very brave and knowing. At the same time there
was a great Giant, twenty feet high and nine feet round, who lived in
a cave, on an island near Jack's house. The Giant used to wade to the
mainland and steal things to live upon, carrying five or six bullocks
at once, and stringing sheep, pigs, and geese around his waist-band;
and all the people ran away from him in fear, whenever they saw him
coming.
Jack determined to destroy this Giant; so he got a pickaxe and
shovel, and started in his boat on a dark evening; by the morning he
had dug a pit deep and broad, then covering it with sticks and
strewing a little mould over, to make it look like plain ground, he
blew his horn so loudly that the Giant awoke, and came roaring
towards Jack, calling him a villain for disturbing his rest, and
declaring he would eat him for breakfast. He had scarcely said this
when he fell into the pit. "Oh! Mr. Giant," says Jack, "where are you
now? You shall have this for your breakfast." So saying, he struck
him on the head so terrible blow with his pickaxe that the Giant fell
dead to the bottom.
Just at this moment, the Giant's brother ran out roaring vengeance
against Jack; but he jumped into his boat and pulled to the opposite
shore, with the Giant after him, who caught poor Jack, just as he was
landing, tied him down in his boat, and went in search of his
provisions. During his absence, Jack contrived to cut a large hole in
the bottom of the boat, and placed therein a piece of canvas. After
having stolen some oxen, the Giant returned and pushed off the boat,
when, having got fairly out to sea, Jack pulled the canvas from the
hole, which caused the boat to fill and quickly capsize. The Giant
roared and bellowed as he struggled in the water, but was very soon
exhausted and drowned, while Jack dexterously swam ashore.
One day after this, Jack was sitting by a well fast asleep. A Giant
named Blundebore, coming for water, at once saw and caught hold of
him, and carried him to his castle. Jack was much frightened at
seeing the heaps of bodies and bones strewed about. The Giant then
confined him in an upper room over the entrance, and went for another
Giant to breakfast off poor Jack. On viewing the room, he saw some
strong ropes, and making a noose at one end, he put the other through
a pulley which chanced to be over the window, and when the Giants
were unfastening the gate he threw the noose over both their heads,
and pulling it immediately, he contrived to choke them both. Then
releasing three ladies who were confined in the castle, he departed
well pleased.
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.
[Illustration: Jack Climbing Beanstalk.]
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.
[Illustration: Tom Thumb Chased By Cat.]
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]
[Illustration: Mr. Brown caning boys stealing sugar.]
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."
[Illustration: Apple Thief Hanging From Wall With Dog Below.]
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!
[Illustration: Naughty Boy Covered In Mud.]
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]
[Illustration: This is the Man who picked the Bad Boy out of the Mud.]
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 da
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