Page 26—Good Girls

Page 26—Good GirlsJenny LeeAn 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 roseLong 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 accidentBeneath 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 proudAs 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 cheerfullyAs any busy bee.If down upon the cottage floorHer 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 stepCame 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 beA useful little daughter;That's why I cannot playWith 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 goAnd 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 beA 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.'"Lucy Gray and Father.Lucy GrayOft I had heard of Lucy Gray;And, when I crossed the wild,I managed to see at break of dayThe solitary child.No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;She dwelt on a wide moor,—The sweetest thing that ever grewBesides a human door!You yet may spy the fawn at play,The hare upon the green;But the sweet face of Lucy GrayWill never more be seen."To-night will be a stormy night—You to the town must go;And take a lantern, child, to lightYour 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 bookAnd snapped a faggot band;He piled his work,—and Lucy tookThe lantern in her hand.Not blither is the mountain roe;With many a wanton strokeHer 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 nightWent shouting far and wide,But there was neither sound or sightTo serve them for a guide.At day-break on a hill they stoodThat overlooked the moor;And thence they saw the bridge of woodA furlong from their door.And, turning homeward, now they cried"In heaven we shall meet!"When in the snow the mother spiedThe print of Lucy's feet.Then downwards from the steep hill's edgeThey 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 bankThe footmarks, one by one,Into the middle of the plank;And further there were none!Yet some maintain that to this dayShe is a living child;That you may see sweet Lucy GrayUpon the lonesome wild.O'er rough and smooth she trips along,And never looks behind;And sings a solitary songThat whistles in the wind.Mary's Little LambMary had a little lamb,It's fleece was white as snow;And everywhere that Mary wentThe 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 aboutTill Mary did appear.At once he ran to her, and laidHis 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 27—Girl LandWe are SevenI met a little cottage girl;She was eight years old, she said;Her head was thick with many a curlThat 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 IDwell 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 stillThe little maid would have her will,And say, "Nay, we are seven."The Poor, but Kind GirlYoung 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 bringThat 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.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 prideOf 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 rewardIs the joy of her own brave heart.The Tidy GirlWho 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 SisterI 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 togetherAnd I begin to find,To make my sister happy,I must be very kind.Previous-Index-NextPage 28—Ruby Cole And Her Clever FrogMusic score for 'What Our Ruby Did'.What Our Ruby DidShe 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!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.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 tendedBut one dead lamb is there!There is no fireside, howsoever defendedBut has one vacant chair!There is no death! what seems so is transitionThis life of mortal breath,Is but a suburb of life ElysianWhose portal we call death.She is not dead—the child of our affection—But gone unto that schoolWhere she no longer needs our poor protectionAnd GOD himself doth rule.Previous-Index-NextPage 29—Vally Cole And His Clever DogVally Cole.Our Vally had a Clever Dog,whose name was EBENEZER.Sometimes this dog was very good,At other times a TEASER.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.Ebenezer and Tom snoozing.This funny Dog one Christmas day,Directly after dinner,Just lean'd his sleepy head againstOld Tom, our snoozing sinner.Previous-Index-NextPage 30—Boy's StoriesTommy 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 storyAbout Jack Nory,—And now my story's begun:I'll tell you anotherAbout Jack his brother,—And now my story's done.—Poor old Robinson Crusoe!Poor old Robinson Crusoe!They made him a coatOf 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 fiddleFor any wife in town."—Jacky, come give me thy fiddleIf ever thou mean'st to thrive;Nay, I'll not give my fiddleTo any man alive.If I should give my fiddle,They'll think that I'm gone mad,For many a joyful dayMy fiddle and I have had.—Jack was a fishermanWho 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 HeartsHe stole those tartsAnd took them clean away.The King of HeartsCalled for the tarts,And beat the knave full sore;The Knave of HeartsBrought back the tarts,And vowed he'd steal no more.—Charley WagAte the pudding and left the bag.—Tom, The Piper's SonTom, 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 playWas, "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."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 playA merry tune that led his graceInto a very muddy place.The mayor then said he would not failTo 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 ColeWas 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 31—Boy LandThe House That Jack BuiltThis is the house that Jack built.This is the maltThat 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.Simple Simon Meets Pieman.Simple SimonSimple Simon met a piemanGoing 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-fishingFor to catch a whale—All the water he had gotWas in his mother's pail.Simple Simon went to lookIf 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 failBecause he'd got a little saltTo 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-skatingWhen the ice was thin,And Simon was astonished quiteTo find he tumbled in.And Simon he would honey eatOut of the mustard pot;He bit his tongue until he cried:"That was all the good he got."Ten Little NiggersTen 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 32—Boy LandJack the Giant KillerOnce 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.Jack Climbing Beanstalk.Jack and the BeanstalkAt 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 33—Boy LandHop O' My ThumbOnce upon a time there was a woodman and his wife who had so many children that they did not know how to find food for them. So one night, when they were all in bed, the father told his wife that he thought they had better take them into the forest and lose them there. The youngest child, who was so very small that he was called Hop o' my Thumb, overheard his father, and as he was a very clever boy he made up his mind to find his way home again. So he went down to the brook very early the next morning, and filled his pocket with large smooth pebbles as white as snow. Bye-and-bye the woodman and his wife told the children that they might go with them into the wood to have a good game of play. They were all glad except Hop o' my Thumb who knew what his father intended. So they set out; the woodman and his wife first, then the boys, and last Hop o' my Thumb, who sprinkled pebbles all the way they went.They spent a merry day; but bye-and-bye the parents stole away, and left the children all by themselves. They were very much frightened when they missed their father and mother, and called loudly for them; but when Hop o' my Thumb told them what he had heard, and how they could find their way home by following the track of the pebbles, which marked the way they had come, they set out, and reached home safely, and their father and mother pretended to be very glad to see them back.But soon after they again resolved to lose their children, if possible, in the forest. This time all the boys feared that they should be left behind, and the eldest brother said he would take some peas to sprinkle, to mark the pathway that led home. By-and-bye the cruel parents stole away, and left the little ones in the dark wood. At first they did not care, for they thought that they could easily find their way home; but, alas! when they looked for the line of peas which they had sprinkled, they found they were all gone—the wood-pigeons had eaten them up, and the children were lost in the wood. Holding each-others' hands and crying sadly they walked on to seek a place to sleep in. By-and-bye they came to a giant's castle, where they were taken in, and told that they might sleep in the nursery with the seven baby daughters of the giant, who were lying all in a row in one bed, with gold crowns on their heads. Hop o' my Thumb thought it was strange that the giant should be so kind, as he had been told that the ogres eat children. So in the night he got up softly and took off the little giantesses' crowns and put them on his brothers' heads and his own, and lay down again. It was lucky for him that he did so, for in the night the giant came up in the dark to kill the boys, that they might be ready for the next day's breakfast. He felt the beds, and finding the crowns on the boy's heads took them for his own children, left them and went to the other bed and cut off the heads of his daughters instead. Then he went back to bed. Directly he was gone, Hop o' my Thumb and his brothers got up, stole down stairs, opened the door and fled away from the castle. But they did not go far. Hop o' my Thumb knew that the giant would come after them in his seven-league boots. So they got into a hole in the side of a hill and hid. Very soon after, they saw the giant coming at a great pace in his wonderful boots; but he took such long steps that he passed right over their heads. They were afraid to move out till they had seen him go home again. So they remained quietly where they were.By-and-bye the giant, who had been many miles in an hour, came back tired, and lay down on the hill-side and fell asleep. Then Hop o' my Thumb got out of the hole, and pulled off the giant's seven-league boots, and put them on his own feet. They fitted him exactly, for being fairy boots they would grow large or small just as one liked. He then got his brothers out of the hole, took them in his boots, marched for home, and although it was a great distance, got there in almost no time, but when he arrived at the house his father and mother were not there. He then hastened to make inquiries for them, and found they had been suspected of murdering their children,—who had all disappeared suddenly—that they had owned to leaving them in the wood, and that they were to be put to death for their crime. "We must go and save them," he said. So he took his brothers into the seven-league boots, and set out to the place where their parents were in prison. They arrived only just in time, for the guards were bringing out the woodsman and his wife to put them to death. Hop o' my Thumb took off the boors, and all the children called out, "We are alive! we are alive! Do not kill our mother and father."Then there was great joy. The woodman and his wife were set free, and embraced their children. They had repented their wickedness, and were never unkind and cruel any more; and Hop o' my Thumb kept them all in comfort by going on errands for the king in his seven-league boots.Tom Thumb Chased By Cat.Tom ThumbIn 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 34—Naughty BoysMr. 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 LeaveI remember, I remember,When I was a little Boy,One fine morning in SeptemberUncle brought me home a toy.I remember how he pattedBoth 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 uponMy 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 HawkinsCame, and with his pewter squirtSquibbed my pantaloons and stockingsTill they were all over dirt.To my mother for protectionI 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 DecemberDid I venture out to play.And the moral which they taught, IWell remember: thus they said—"Little Boys, when they are naughty,Must be whipp'd and sent to bed!"Previous-Index-NextPage 35—Boy LandDirty JackThere was one little Jack,Not very long back,And 't is said to his lasting disgrace,That he never was seenWith his hands at all clean,Nor yet ever clean was his face.His friends were much hurtTo see so much dirtAnd often and well did they scour,But all was in vain,He was dirty againBefore they had done it an hour.When to wash he was sent,He reluctantly wentWith water to splash himself o'er,But he left the black streaksRunning down both his cheeks,And made them look worse than before.The pigs in the dirtCould not be more expertThan he was, in grubbing about;And people have thoughtThis gentleman oughtTo be made with four legs and a snout.The idle and badMay, like to this lad,Be dirty and black, to be sure.But good boys are seenTo be decent and clean,Although they be ever so poor.Throwing StonesJohnny Jones, why do you do it?Those who throw stonesSurely 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 bringingUpon you some day.Someone is watching,Armed by the law,Truncheon from pocketSoon 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 DickDirty, noisy, mischievous Dick,Struggled and tore, and wanted to fightSusan, the nurse, who in the bathBegan 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 madeA 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 calledDirty, noisy, mischievous Dick.Boy That Stole the ApplesA 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 gotBy a climbing lad like me:I'll try and steal a lot,So here goes up the tree."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 FingersPretty little fingers,Wherefore were they made?Like ten smart young soldiers,All in pink arrayed.Apt and quick obedientTo your lightest thought,Doing in an instantEverything they're taught.'T was for play or study,Pen to wield or ball;Kite, top, needle, pencil,Prompt at parents' call.Picking, poking, soilingCostly things and dear,Wrecking, cracking, spoilingAll that they come near.Thus 't was with Robert Chivers,Brandishing a swish,Broke a vase to shiversFilled with silver fish."Tick, tick" says the Dutch clock.Robert fain would knowHow it's pendulum swingingMade it's wheels go.Who not ask? No! foolishRobert takes a stick,Pokes and breaks the clock, whichCeases soon to tick."Puff, puff," sighs the bellows.Robert wants to find,Yet he will not ask, whenceComes it's stock of wind.With a knife upripping,Finds them void and flat.Ah! be sure a whippingRobert caught for that.The Boy who Played with FireListen about a naughty boyWho might have been a parent's joy,But that he had a strong desireTo 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 strewedSome 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 36Wicked WillieWillie 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 stuckIn a prickly thicket.Oh no! for the boys all saidWillie 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-booksThey would never show him,And their tops they would not spin,If they saw him near them,And they treated him with scornTill 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!Naughty Boy Covered In Mud.This is the Naughty Boywho would go making MudPies, and get his nice newclothes 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 BoyBoys, 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 boysThis wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold, dirty-faced boy!Previous-Index-NextPage 37This 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 worldAnd 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 chooseTo stand upon my head."So little Chinkey ran away,His tail flew in the wind;He thought not of his good mammaWho was so very kind:He knew she could not follow himAlong the crowded street,Because mammas in China haveSuch very tiny feet.Now, as he went along he sawSuch 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 tooQuite took him by surprise.He listened to the music ofThe fiddle and the gong,And felt that it was jolly, thoughHe knew that it was wrong.But after that he began to thinkThings were not so bright;The men were going, and there cameThe 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-ChowWoke up with early light,And wandered far away from whereHe passed the dreary night;He was so very worn and cold,And sadly wanted food,So he sat upon a wellIn not a pleasant mood.He saw the well was very deep,The water too was clear,And soon he saw a golden fishThat looked so very near.He stretched his hand to catch the fish;But oh! how sad to tell,He tumbled over and he sankTo the bottom of the well.Some other boys were playing thereAnd saw him disappear,And ran along the road to seeIf 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 calledHim 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 againHis tail hung down behind.He wandered past the painted shops,Where they put up the tea,And I am sure the boys at schoolWere happier than he.Poor Chinkey Chow was very tired,And very sore his feet,When his mother saw him fromThe corner of a street.She said he was a wicked boy,And ought to have a smack!And yet I think she loved him moreBecause 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 aboutWhen I this story tell,Is the GREAT BIG Market GardenerThat raised him from the wellFrom Calvert's Australian Toy BooksPrevious-Index-Next

Page 26—Good GirlsJenny LeeAn 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 roseLong 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 accidentBeneath 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 proudAs 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 cheerfullyAs any busy bee.If down upon the cottage floorHer 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 stepCame 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 beA useful little daughter;That's why I cannot playWith 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 goAnd 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 beA 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.'"Lucy Gray and Father.Lucy GrayOft I had heard of Lucy Gray;And, when I crossed the wild,I managed to see at break of dayThe solitary child.No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;She dwelt on a wide moor,—The sweetest thing that ever grewBesides a human door!You yet may spy the fawn at play,The hare upon the green;But the sweet face of Lucy GrayWill never more be seen."To-night will be a stormy night—You to the town must go;And take a lantern, child, to lightYour 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 bookAnd snapped a faggot band;He piled his work,—and Lucy tookThe lantern in her hand.Not blither is the mountain roe;With many a wanton strokeHer 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 nightWent shouting far and wide,But there was neither sound or sightTo serve them for a guide.At day-break on a hill they stoodThat overlooked the moor;And thence they saw the bridge of woodA furlong from their door.And, turning homeward, now they cried"In heaven we shall meet!"When in the snow the mother spiedThe print of Lucy's feet.Then downwards from the steep hill's edgeThey 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 bankThe footmarks, one by one,Into the middle of the plank;And further there were none!Yet some maintain that to this dayShe is a living child;That you may see sweet Lucy GrayUpon the lonesome wild.O'er rough and smooth she trips along,And never looks behind;And sings a solitary songThat whistles in the wind.Mary's Little LambMary had a little lamb,It's fleece was white as snow;And everywhere that Mary wentThe 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 aboutTill Mary did appear.At once he ran to her, and laidHis 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 27—Girl LandWe are SevenI met a little cottage girl;She was eight years old, she said;Her head was thick with many a curlThat 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 IDwell 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 stillThe little maid would have her will,And say, "Nay, we are seven."The Poor, but Kind GirlYoung 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 bringThat 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.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 prideOf 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 rewardIs the joy of her own brave heart.The Tidy GirlWho 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 SisterI 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 togetherAnd I begin to find,To make my sister happy,I must be very kind.Previous-Index-NextPage 28—Ruby Cole And Her Clever FrogMusic score for 'What Our Ruby Did'.What Our Ruby DidShe 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!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.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 tendedBut one dead lamb is there!There is no fireside, howsoever defendedBut has one vacant chair!There is no death! what seems so is transitionThis life of mortal breath,Is but a suburb of life ElysianWhose portal we call death.She is not dead—the child of our affection—But gone unto that schoolWhere she no longer needs our poor protectionAnd GOD himself doth rule.Previous-Index-NextPage 29—Vally Cole And His Clever DogVally Cole.Our Vally had a Clever Dog,whose name was EBENEZER.Sometimes this dog was very good,At other times a TEASER.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.Ebenezer and Tom snoozing.This funny Dog one Christmas day,Directly after dinner,Just lean'd his sleepy head againstOld Tom, our snoozing sinner.Previous-Index-NextPage 30—Boy's StoriesTommy 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 storyAbout Jack Nory,—And now my story's begun:I'll tell you anotherAbout Jack his brother,—And now my story's done.—Poor old Robinson Crusoe!Poor old Robinson Crusoe!They made him a coatOf 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 fiddleFor any wife in town."—Jacky, come give me thy fiddleIf ever thou mean'st to thrive;Nay, I'll not give my fiddleTo any man alive.If I should give my fiddle,They'll think that I'm gone mad,For many a joyful dayMy fiddle and I have had.—Jack was a fishermanWho 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 HeartsHe stole those tartsAnd took them clean away.The King of HeartsCalled for the tarts,And beat the knave full sore;The Knave of HeartsBrought back the tarts,And vowed he'd steal no more.—Charley WagAte the pudding and left the bag.—Tom, The Piper's SonTom, 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 playWas, "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."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 playA merry tune that led his graceInto a very muddy place.The mayor then said he would not failTo 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 ColeWas 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 31—Boy LandThe House That Jack BuiltThis is the house that Jack built.This is the maltThat 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.Simple Simon Meets Pieman.Simple SimonSimple Simon met a piemanGoing 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-fishingFor to catch a whale—All the water he had gotWas in his mother's pail.Simple Simon went to lookIf 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 failBecause he'd got a little saltTo 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-skatingWhen the ice was thin,And Simon was astonished quiteTo find he tumbled in.And Simon he would honey eatOut of the mustard pot;He bit his tongue until he cried:"That was all the good he got."Ten Little NiggersTen 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 32—Boy LandJack the Giant KillerOnce 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.Jack Climbing Beanstalk.Jack and the BeanstalkAt 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 33—Boy LandHop O' My ThumbOnce upon a time there was a woodman and his wife who had so many children that they did not know how to find food for them. So one night, when they were all in bed, the father told his wife that he thought they had better take them into the forest and lose them there. The youngest child, who was so very small that he was called Hop o' my Thumb, overheard his father, and as he was a very clever boy he made up his mind to find his way home again. So he went down to the brook very early the next morning, and filled his pocket with large smooth pebbles as white as snow. Bye-and-bye the woodman and his wife told the children that they might go with them into the wood to have a good game of play. They were all glad except Hop o' my Thumb who knew what his father intended. So they set out; the woodman and his wife first, then the boys, and last Hop o' my Thumb, who sprinkled pebbles all the way they went.They spent a merry day; but bye-and-bye the parents stole away, and left the children all by themselves. They were very much frightened when they missed their father and mother, and called loudly for them; but when Hop o' my Thumb told them what he had heard, and how they could find their way home by following the track of the pebbles, which marked the way they had come, they set out, and reached home safely, and their father and mother pretended to be very glad to see them back.But soon after they again resolved to lose their children, if possible, in the forest. This time all the boys feared that they should be left behind, and the eldest brother said he would take some peas to sprinkle, to mark the pathway that led home. By-and-bye the cruel parents stole away, and left the little ones in the dark wood. At first they did not care, for they thought that they could easily find their way home; but, alas! when they looked for the line of peas which they had sprinkled, they found they were all gone—the wood-pigeons had eaten them up, and the children were lost in the wood. Holding each-others' hands and crying sadly they walked on to seek a place to sleep in. By-and-bye they came to a giant's castle, where they were taken in, and told that they might sleep in the nursery with the seven baby daughters of the giant, who were lying all in a row in one bed, with gold crowns on their heads. Hop o' my Thumb thought it was strange that the giant should be so kind, as he had been told that the ogres eat children. So in the night he got up softly and took off the little giantesses' crowns and put them on his brothers' heads and his own, and lay down again. It was lucky for him that he did so, for in the night the giant came up in the dark to kill the boys, that they might be ready for the next day's breakfast. He felt the beds, and finding the crowns on the boy's heads took them for his own children, left them and went to the other bed and cut off the heads of his daughters instead. Then he went back to bed. Directly he was gone, Hop o' my Thumb and his brothers got up, stole down stairs, opened the door and fled away from the castle. But they did not go far. Hop o' my Thumb knew that the giant would come after them in his seven-league boots. So they got into a hole in the side of a hill and hid. Very soon after, they saw the giant coming at a great pace in his wonderful boots; but he took such long steps that he passed right over their heads. They were afraid to move out till they had seen him go home again. So they remained quietly where they were.By-and-bye the giant, who had been many miles in an hour, came back tired, and lay down on the hill-side and fell asleep. Then Hop o' my Thumb got out of the hole, and pulled off the giant's seven-league boots, and put them on his own feet. They fitted him exactly, for being fairy boots they would grow large or small just as one liked. He then got his brothers out of the hole, took them in his boots, marched for home, and although it was a great distance, got there in almost no time, but when he arrived at the house his father and mother were not there. He then hastened to make inquiries for them, and found they had been suspected of murdering their children,—who had all disappeared suddenly—that they had owned to leaving them in the wood, and that they were to be put to death for their crime. "We must go and save them," he said. So he took his brothers into the seven-league boots, and set out to the place where their parents were in prison. They arrived only just in time, for the guards were bringing out the woodsman and his wife to put them to death. Hop o' my Thumb took off the boors, and all the children called out, "We are alive! we are alive! Do not kill our mother and father."Then there was great joy. The woodman and his wife were set free, and embraced their children. They had repented their wickedness, and were never unkind and cruel any more; and Hop o' my Thumb kept them all in comfort by going on errands for the king in his seven-league boots.Tom Thumb Chased By Cat.Tom ThumbIn 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 34—Naughty BoysMr. 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 LeaveI remember, I remember,When I was a little Boy,One fine morning in SeptemberUncle brought me home a toy.I remember how he pattedBoth 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 uponMy 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 HawkinsCame, and with his pewter squirtSquibbed my pantaloons and stockingsTill they were all over dirt.To my mother for protectionI 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 DecemberDid I venture out to play.And the moral which they taught, IWell remember: thus they said—"Little Boys, when they are naughty,Must be whipp'd and sent to bed!"Previous-Index-NextPage 35—Boy LandDirty JackThere was one little Jack,Not very long back,And 't is said to his lasting disgrace,That he never was seenWith his hands at all clean,Nor yet ever clean was his face.His friends were much hurtTo see so much dirtAnd often and well did they scour,But all was in vain,He was dirty againBefore they had done it an hour.When to wash he was sent,He reluctantly wentWith water to splash himself o'er,But he left the black streaksRunning down both his cheeks,And made them look worse than before.The pigs in the dirtCould not be more expertThan he was, in grubbing about;And people have thoughtThis gentleman oughtTo be made with four legs and a snout.The idle and badMay, like to this lad,Be dirty and black, to be sure.But good boys are seenTo be decent and clean,Although they be ever so poor.Throwing StonesJohnny Jones, why do you do it?Those who throw stonesSurely 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 bringingUpon you some day.Someone is watching,Armed by the law,Truncheon from pocketSoon 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 DickDirty, noisy, mischievous Dick,Struggled and tore, and wanted to fightSusan, the nurse, who in the bathBegan 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 madeA 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 calledDirty, noisy, mischievous Dick.Boy That Stole the ApplesA 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 gotBy a climbing lad like me:I'll try and steal a lot,So here goes up the tree."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 FingersPretty little fingers,Wherefore were they made?Like ten smart young soldiers,All in pink arrayed.Apt and quick obedientTo your lightest thought,Doing in an instantEverything they're taught.'T was for play or study,Pen to wield or ball;Kite, top, needle, pencil,Prompt at parents' call.Picking, poking, soilingCostly things and dear,Wrecking, cracking, spoilingAll that they come near.Thus 't was with Robert Chivers,Brandishing a swish,Broke a vase to shiversFilled with silver fish."Tick, tick" says the Dutch clock.Robert fain would knowHow it's pendulum swingingMade it's wheels go.Who not ask? No! foolishRobert takes a stick,Pokes and breaks the clock, whichCeases soon to tick."Puff, puff," sighs the bellows.Robert wants to find,Yet he will not ask, whenceComes it's stock of wind.With a knife upripping,Finds them void and flat.Ah! be sure a whippingRobert caught for that.The Boy who Played with FireListen about a naughty boyWho might have been a parent's joy,But that he had a strong desireTo 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 strewedSome 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.Previous-Index-NextPage 36Wicked WillieWillie 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 stuckIn a prickly thicket.Oh no! for the boys all saidWillie 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-booksThey would never show him,And their tops they would not spin,If they saw him near them,And they treated him with scornTill 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!Naughty Boy Covered In Mud.This is the Naughty Boywho would go making MudPies, and get his nice newclothes 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 BoyBoys, 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 boysThis wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold, dirty-faced boy!Previous-Index-NextPage 37This 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 worldAnd 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 chooseTo stand upon my head."So little Chinkey ran away,His tail flew in the wind;He thought not of his good mammaWho was so very kind:He knew she could not follow himAlong the crowded street,Because mammas in China haveSuch very tiny feet.Now, as he went along he sawSuch 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 tooQuite took him by surprise.He listened to the music ofThe fiddle and the gong,And felt that it was jolly, thoughHe knew that it was wrong.But after that he began to thinkThings were not so bright;The men were going, and there cameThe 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-ChowWoke up with early light,And wandered far away from whereHe passed the dreary night;He was so very worn and cold,And sadly wanted food,So he sat upon a wellIn not a pleasant mood.He saw the well was very deep,The water too was clear,And soon he saw a golden fishThat looked so very near.He stretched his hand to catch the fish;But oh! how sad to tell,He tumbled over and he sankTo the bottom of the well.Some other boys were playing thereAnd saw him disappear,And ran along the road to seeIf 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 calledHim 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 againHis tail hung down behind.He wandered past the painted shops,Where they put up the tea,And I am sure the boys at schoolWere happier than he.Poor Chinkey Chow was very tired,And very sore his feet,When his mother saw him fromThe corner of a street.She said he was a wicked boy,And ought to have a smack!And yet I think she loved him moreBecause 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 aboutWhen I this story tell,Is the GREAT BIG Market GardenerThat raised him from the wellFrom Calvert's Australian Toy BooksPrevious-Index-Next

Jenny LeeAn 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 roseLong 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 accidentBeneath 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 proudAs 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 cheerfullyAs any busy bee.If down upon the cottage floorHer 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 stepCame 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 beA useful little daughter;That's why I cannot playWith 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 goAnd 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 beA 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.'"Lucy Gray and Father.

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 roseLong 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 accidentBeneath 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 proudAs 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 cheerfullyAs any busy bee.

If down upon the cottage floorHer 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 stepCame 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 beA useful little daughter;That's why I cannot playWith 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 goAnd 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 beA 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.'"

Lucy GrayOft I had heard of Lucy Gray;And, when I crossed the wild,I managed to see at break of dayThe solitary child.No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;She dwelt on a wide moor,—The sweetest thing that ever grewBesides a human door!You yet may spy the fawn at play,The hare upon the green;But the sweet face of Lucy GrayWill never more be seen."To-night will be a stormy night—You to the town must go;And take a lantern, child, to lightYour 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 bookAnd snapped a faggot band;He piled his work,—and Lucy tookThe lantern in her hand.Not blither is the mountain roe;With many a wanton strokeHer 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 nightWent shouting far and wide,But there was neither sound or sightTo serve them for a guide.At day-break on a hill they stoodThat overlooked the moor;And thence they saw the bridge of woodA furlong from their door.And, turning homeward, now they cried"In heaven we shall meet!"When in the snow the mother spiedThe print of Lucy's feet.Then downwards from the steep hill's edgeThey 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 bankThe footmarks, one by one,Into the middle of the plank;And further there were none!Yet some maintain that to this dayShe is a living child;That you may see sweet Lucy GrayUpon the lonesome wild.O'er rough and smooth she trips along,And never looks behind;And sings a solitary songThat whistles in the wind.Mary's Little LambMary had a little lamb,It's fleece was white as snow;And everywhere that Mary wentThe 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 aboutTill Mary did appear.At once he ran to her, and laidHis 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.

Lucy Gray

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray;And, when I crossed the wild,I managed to see at break of dayThe solitary child.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;She dwelt on a wide moor,—The sweetest thing that ever grewBesides a human door!

You yet may spy the fawn at play,The hare upon the green;But the sweet face of Lucy GrayWill never more be seen.

"To-night will be a stormy night—You to the town must go;And take a lantern, child, to lightYour 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 bookAnd snapped a faggot band;He piled his work,—and Lucy tookThe lantern in her hand.

Not blither is the mountain roe;With many a wanton strokeHer 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 nightWent shouting far and wide,But there was neither sound or sightTo serve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stoodThat overlooked the moor;And thence they saw the bridge of woodA furlong from their door.

And, turning homeward, now they cried"In heaven we shall meet!"When in the snow the mother spiedThe print of Lucy's feet.

Then downwards from the steep hill's edgeThey 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 bankThe footmarks, one by one,Into the middle of the plank;And further there were none!

Yet some maintain that to this dayShe is a living child;That you may see sweet Lucy GrayUpon the lonesome wild.

O'er rough and smooth she trips along,And never looks behind;And sings a solitary songThat whistles in the wind.

Mary's Little Lamb

Mary had a little lamb,It's fleece was white as snow;And everywhere that Mary wentThe 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 aboutTill Mary did appear.

At once he ran to her, and laidHis 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.

Previous-Index-Next

We are SevenI met a little cottage girl;She was eight years old, she said;Her head was thick with many a curlThat 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 IDwell 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 stillThe little maid would have her will,And say, "Nay, we are seven."The Poor, but Kind GirlYoung 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 bringThat 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.Grace Darling Rowing in Storm.

We are Seven

I met a little cottage girl;She was eight years old, she said;Her head was thick with many a curlThat 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 IDwell 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 stillThe 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 bringThat 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.

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 prideOf 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 rewardIs the joy of her own brave heart.The Tidy GirlWho 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 SisterI 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 togetherAnd I begin to find,To make my sister happy,I must be very kind.

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 prideOf 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 rewardIs 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 togetherAnd I begin to find,To make my sister happy,I must be very kind.

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Music score for 'What Our Ruby Did'.

What Our Ruby DidShe 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!Ruby Cole dancing.

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!

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.Clever Frog playing Fiddle.

E. W. C.

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 tendedBut one dead lamb is there!There is no fireside, howsoever defendedBut has one vacant chair!There is no death! what seems so is transitionThis life of mortal breath,Is but a suburb of life ElysianWhose portal we call death.She is not dead—the child of our affection—But gone unto that schoolWhere she no longer needs our poor protectionAnd GOD himself doth rule.

There is no death! what seems so is transitionThis life of mortal breath,Is but a suburb of life ElysianWhose portal we call death.

She is not dead—the child of our affection—But gone unto that schoolWhere she no longer needs our poor protectionAnd GOD himself doth rule.

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Vally Cole.

Our Vally had a Clever Dog,whose name was EBENEZER.Sometimes this dog was very good,At other times a TEASER.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.Ebenezer and Tom snoozing.

This funny Dog one Christmas day,Directly after dinner,Just lean'd his sleepy head againstOld Tom, our snoozing sinner.

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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 storyAbout Jack Nory,—And now my story's begun:I'll tell you anotherAbout Jack his brother,—And now my story's done.—Poor old Robinson Crusoe!Poor old Robinson Crusoe!They made him a coatOf 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 fiddleFor any wife in town."—Jacky, come give me thy fiddleIf ever thou mean'st to thrive;Nay, I'll not give my fiddleTo any man alive.If I should give my fiddle,They'll think that I'm gone mad,For many a joyful dayMy fiddle and I have had.—Jack was a fishermanWho 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 HeartsHe stole those tartsAnd took them clean away.The King of HeartsCalled for the tarts,And beat the knave full sore;The Knave of HeartsBrought back the tarts,And vowed he'd steal no more.—Charley WagAte the pudding and left the bag.—Tom, The Piper's SonTom, 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 playWas, "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."Tom Piping, Pigs Dancing.

—

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 storyAbout Jack Nory,—And now my story's begun:I'll tell you anotherAbout Jack his brother,—And now my story's done.

—

Poor old Robinson Crusoe!Poor old Robinson Crusoe!They made him a coatOf 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 fiddleFor any wife in town."

—

Jacky, come give me thy fiddleIf ever thou mean'st to thrive;Nay, I'll not give my fiddleTo any man alive.If I should give my fiddle,They'll think that I'm gone mad,For many a joyful dayMy fiddle and I have had.

—

Jack was a fishermanWho 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 HeartsHe stole those tartsAnd took them clean away.

The King of HeartsCalled for the tarts,And beat the knave full sore;The Knave of HeartsBrought back the tarts,And vowed he'd steal no more.

—

Charley WagAte 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 playWas, "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."

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 playA merry tune that led his graceInto a very muddy place.The mayor then said he would not failTo 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 ColeWas 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.

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 playA merry tune that led his graceInto a very muddy place.

The mayor then said he would not failTo 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 ColeWas 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.

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The House That Jack BuiltThis is the house that Jack built.This is the maltThat 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.Simple Simon Meets Pieman.

The House That Jack Built

This is the house that Jack built.

This is the maltThat 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.

Simple SimonSimple Simon met a piemanGoing 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-fishingFor to catch a whale—All the water he had gotWas in his mother's pail.Simple Simon went to lookIf 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 failBecause he'd got a little saltTo 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-skatingWhen the ice was thin,And Simon was astonished quiteTo find he tumbled in.And Simon he would honey eatOut of the mustard pot;He bit his tongue until he cried:"That was all the good he got."Ten Little NiggersTen 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.

Simple Simon

Simple Simon met a piemanGoing 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-fishingFor to catch a whale—All the water he had gotWas in his mother's pail.

Simple Simon went to lookIf 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 failBecause he'd got a little saltTo 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-skatingWhen the ice was thin,And Simon was astonished quiteTo find he tumbled in.

And Simon he would honey eatOut 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.

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Jack the Giant KillerOnce 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:

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.Jack Climbing Beanstalk.

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

Jack and the BeanstalkAt 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:

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.

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.

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Hop O' My ThumbOnce upon a time there was a woodman and his wife who had so many children that they did not know how to find food for them. So one night, when they were all in bed, the father told his wife that he thought they had better take them into the forest and lose them there. The youngest child, who was so very small that he was called Hop o' my Thumb, overheard his father, and as he was a very clever boy he made up his mind to find his way home again. So he went down to the brook very early the next morning, and filled his pocket with large smooth pebbles as white as snow. Bye-and-bye the woodman and his wife told the children that they might go with them into the wood to have a good game of play. They were all glad except Hop o' my Thumb who knew what his father intended. So they set out; the woodman and his wife first, then the boys, and last Hop o' my Thumb, who sprinkled pebbles all the way they went.They spent a merry day; but bye-and-bye the parents stole away, and left the children all by themselves. They were very much frightened when they missed their father and mother, and called loudly for them; but when Hop o' my Thumb told them what he had heard, and how they could find their way home by following the track of the pebbles, which marked the way they had come, they set out, and reached home safely, and their father and mother pretended to be very glad to see them back.But soon after they again resolved to lose their children, if possible, in the forest. This time all the boys feared that they should be left behind, and the eldest brother said he would take some peas to sprinkle, to mark the pathway that led home. By-and-bye the cruel parents stole away, and left the little ones in the dark wood. At first they did not care, for they thought that they could easily find their way home; but, alas! when they looked for the line of peas which they had sprinkled, they found they were all gone—the wood-pigeons had eaten them up, and the children were lost in the wood. Holding each-others' hands and crying sadly they walked on to seek a place to sleep in. By-and-bye they came to a giant's castle, where they were taken in, and told that they might sleep in the nursery with the seven baby daughters of the giant, who were lying all in a row in one bed, with gold crowns on their heads. Hop o' my Thumb thought it was strange that the giant should be so kind, as he had been told that the ogres eat children. So in the night he got up softly and took off the little giantesses' crowns and put them on his brothers' heads and his own, and lay down again. It was lucky for him that he did so, for in the night the giant came up in the dark to kill the boys, that they might be ready for the next day's breakfast. He felt the beds, and finding the crowns on the boy's heads took them for his own children, left them and went to the other bed and cut off the heads of his daughters instead. Then he went back to bed. Directly he was gone, Hop o' my Thumb and his brothers got up, stole down stairs, opened the door and fled away from the castle. But they did not go far. Hop o' my Thumb knew that the giant would come after them in his seven-league boots. So they got into a hole in the side of a hill and hid. Very soon after, they saw the giant coming at a great pace in his wonderful boots; but he took such long steps that he passed right over their heads. They were afraid to move out till they had seen him go home again. So they remained quietly where they were.By-and-bye the giant, who had been many miles in an hour, came back tired, and lay down on the hill-side and fell asleep. Then Hop o' my Thumb got out of the hole, and pulled off the giant's seven-league boots, and put them on his own feet. They fitted him exactly, for being fairy boots they would grow large or small just as one liked. He then got his brothers out of the hole, took them in his boots, marched for home, and although it was a great distance, got there in almost no time, but when he arrived at the house his father and mother were not there. He then hastened to make inquiries for them, and found they had been suspected of murdering their children,—who had all disappeared suddenly—that they had owned to leaving them in the wood, and that they were to be put to death for their crime. "We must go and save them," he said. So he took his brothers into the seven-league boots, and set out to the place where their parents were in prison. They arrived only just in time, for the guards were bringing out the woodsman and his wife to put them to death. Hop o' my Thumb took off the boors, and all the children called out, "We are alive! we are alive! Do not kill our mother and father."Then there was great joy. The woodman and his wife were set free, and embraced their children. They had repented their wickedness, and were never unkind and cruel any more; and Hop o' my Thumb kept them all in comfort by going on errands for the king in his seven-league boots.Tom Thumb Chased By Cat.

Hop O' My Thumb

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

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

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

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

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

Tom ThumbIn 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.

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.

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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 LeaveI remember, I remember,When I was a little Boy,One fine morning in SeptemberUncle brought me home a toy.I remember how he pattedBoth 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 uponMy 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 HawkinsCame, and with his pewter squirtSquibbed my pantaloons and stockingsTill they were all over dirt.To my mother for protectionI 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 DecemberDid I venture out to play.And the moral which they taught, IWell remember: thus they said—"Little Boys, when they are naughty,Must be whipp'd and sent to bed!"

Boy Who Stole Out Without Leave

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

I remember how he pattedBoth 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 uponMy 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 HawkinsCame, and with his pewter squirtSquibbed my pantaloons and stockingsTill they were all over dirt.

To my mother for protectionI 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 DecemberDid I venture out to play.

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

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Dirty JackThere was one little Jack,Not very long back,And 't is said to his lasting disgrace,That he never was seenWith his hands at all clean,Nor yet ever clean was his face.His friends were much hurtTo see so much dirtAnd often and well did they scour,But all was in vain,He was dirty againBefore they had done it an hour.When to wash he was sent,He reluctantly wentWith water to splash himself o'er,But he left the black streaksRunning down both his cheeks,And made them look worse than before.The pigs in the dirtCould not be more expertThan he was, in grubbing about;And people have thoughtThis gentleman oughtTo be made with four legs and a snout.The idle and badMay, like to this lad,Be dirty and black, to be sure.But good boys are seenTo be decent and clean,Although they be ever so poor.Throwing StonesJohnny Jones, why do you do it?Those who throw stonesSurely 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 bringingUpon you some day.Someone is watching,Armed by the law,Truncheon from pocketSoon 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 DickDirty, noisy, mischievous Dick,Struggled and tore, and wanted to fightSusan, the nurse, who in the bathBegan 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 madeA 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 calledDirty, noisy, mischievous Dick.Boy That Stole the ApplesA 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 gotBy a climbing lad like me:I'll try and steal a lot,So here goes up the tree."Apple Thief Hanging From Wall With Dog Below.

Dirty Jack

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

His friends were much hurtTo see so much dirtAnd often and well did they scour,But all was in vain,He was dirty againBefore they had done it an hour.

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

The pigs in the dirtCould not be more expertThan he was, in grubbing about;And people have thoughtThis gentleman oughtTo be made with four legs and a snout.

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

Throwing Stones

Johnny Jones, why do you do it?Those who throw stonesSurely 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 bringingUpon you some day.

Someone is watching,Armed by the law,Truncheon from pocketSoon 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 fightSusan, the nurse, who in the bathBegan 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 madeA 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 calledDirty, 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 gotBy a climbing lad like me:I'll try and steal a lot,So here goes up the tree."

The wall he then got over,And up the tree he went;But Chapples, mowing clover,Espied the wicked gent.He let him fill his school-bag—Get over the wall again;Rushed up and played at touch-tag,Which surprised him much, and then:—Look at the Picture!!!Mischievous FingersPretty little fingers,Wherefore were they made?Like ten smart young soldiers,All in pink arrayed.Apt and quick obedientTo your lightest thought,Doing in an instantEverything they're taught.'T was for play or study,Pen to wield or ball;Kite, top, needle, pencil,Prompt at parents' call.Picking, poking, soilingCostly things and dear,Wrecking, cracking, spoilingAll that they come near.Thus 't was with Robert Chivers,Brandishing a swish,Broke a vase to shiversFilled with silver fish."Tick, tick" says the Dutch clock.Robert fain would knowHow it's pendulum swingingMade it's wheels go.Who not ask? No! foolishRobert takes a stick,Pokes and breaks the clock, whichCeases soon to tick."Puff, puff," sighs the bellows.Robert wants to find,Yet he will not ask, whenceComes it's stock of wind.With a knife upripping,Finds them void and flat.Ah! be sure a whippingRobert caught for that.The Boy who Played with FireListen about a naughty boyWho might have been a parent's joy,But that he had a strong desireTo 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 strewedSome 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.

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 obedientTo your lightest thought,Doing in an instantEverything they're taught.

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

Picking, poking, soilingCostly things and dear,Wrecking, cracking, spoilingAll that they come near.

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

"Tick, tick" says the Dutch clock.Robert fain would knowHow it's pendulum swingingMade it's wheels go.

Who not ask? No! foolishRobert takes a stick,Pokes and breaks the clock, whichCeases soon to tick.

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

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

The Boy who Played with Fire

Listen about a naughty boyWho might have been a parent's joy,But that he had a strong desireTo 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 strewedSome 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.

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Wicked WillieWillie 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 stuckIn a prickly thicket.Oh no! for the boys all saidWillie 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-booksThey would never show him,And their tops they would not spin,If they saw him near them,And they treated him with scornTill 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!Naughty Boy Covered In Mud.

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 stuckIn a prickly thicket.Oh no! for the boys all saidWillie 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-booksThey would never show him,And their tops they would not spin,If they saw him near them,And they treated him with scornTill he learned to fear them.

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

This is the Naughty Boywho would go making MudPies, and get his nice newclothes 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 BoyBoys, 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 boysThis wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold, dirty-faced boy!

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 boysThis wicked, rude, bad, naughty, cross, nasty, bold, dirty-faced boy!

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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 worldAnd 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 chooseTo stand upon my head."So little Chinkey ran away,His tail flew in the wind;He thought not of his good mammaWho was so very kind:He knew she could not follow himAlong the crowded street,Because mammas in China haveSuch very tiny feet.Now, as he went along he sawSuch 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 tooQuite took him by surprise.He listened to the music ofThe fiddle and the gong,And felt that it was jolly, thoughHe knew that it was wrong.But after that he began to thinkThings were not so bright;The men were going, and there cameThe 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-ChowWoke up with early light,And wandered far away from whereHe passed the dreary night;He was so very worn and cold,And sadly wanted food,So he sat upon a wellIn not a pleasant mood.He saw the well was very deep,The water too was clear,And soon he saw a golden fishThat looked so very near.He stretched his hand to catch the fish;But oh! how sad to tell,He tumbled over and he sankTo the bottom of the well.Some other boys were playing thereAnd saw him disappear,And ran along the road to seeIf 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 calledHim 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 againHis tail hung down behind.He wandered past the painted shops,Where they put up the tea,And I am sure the boys at schoolWere happier than he.Poor Chinkey Chow was very tired,And very sore his feet,When his mother saw him fromThe corner of a street.She said he was a wicked boy,And ought to have a smack!And yet I think she loved him moreBecause 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 aboutWhen I this story tell,Is the GREAT BIG Market GardenerThat raised him from the wellFrom Calvert's Australian Toy Books

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 worldAnd 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 chooseTo stand upon my head."

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

He knew she could not follow himAlong the crowded street,Because mammas in China haveSuch very tiny feet.

Now, as he went along he sawSuch 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 tooQuite took him by surprise.

He listened to the music ofThe fiddle and the gong,And felt that it was jolly, thoughHe knew that it was wrong.

But after that he began to thinkThings were not so bright;The men were going, and there cameThe 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-ChowWoke up with early light,And wandered far away from whereHe passed the dreary night;

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

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

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

Some other boys were playing thereAnd saw him disappear,And ran along the road to seeIf 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 calledHim 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 againHis tail hung down behind.

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

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

She said he was a wicked boy,And ought to have a smack!And yet I think she loved him moreBecause 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 aboutWhen I this story tell,Is the GREAT BIG Market GardenerThat raised him from the well

From Calvert's Australian Toy Books

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