Page 38—Boy Land

Page 38—Boy LandThat Nice Boy"Nice child—very nice child," observed an old gentleman, crossing to the other side of the car and addressing the mother of the boy who had just hit him in the eye with a wad of paper. "How old are you, my son?""None of your business," replied the youngster, taking aim at another passenger."Fine boy," smiled the old man, as the parent regarded her offspring with pride. "A remarkably fine boy. What is your name, my son?""Puddin' Tame!" shouted the youngster, with a giggle at his own wit."I thought so," continued the old man, pleasantly. "If you had given me three guesses at it, that would have been the first one I would have struck on. Now, Puddin', you can blow those things pretty straight, can't you?""You bet!" squealed the boy, delighted at the compliment. "See me take that old fellow over there!""No, no!" exclaimed the old gentleman, hastily. "Try it on the old woman I was sitting with. She has boys of her own, and she won't mind.""Can't you hit the lady for the gentleman, Johnny?" asked the fond parent.Johnny cleverly landed the pellet on the end of the old woman's nose.But she did mind it, and rising in her wrath soared down on the small boy like a hawk. She put him over the line, reversed him, ran him backwards, till he didn't know which end of him was front, and finally dropped him into the lap of the scared mother, with a benediction whereof the purport was that she'd be back in a moment to skin him alive."She didn't seem to like it, Puddin'," smiled the old gentleman, softly. "She's a perfect stranger to me; but I understand she is the matron of an Orphans' Home, and I thought she would like a little fun; but I was mistaken."And the old man smiled sweetly as he went back to his seat. He was sorry for the poor little boy, but he couldn't help it.A Wicked BoyOf all the small boys in our townThat Jones boy was the worst,And if the "bad man" came aroundHe'd take that Jones boy first.One day he slipped away from homeAnd went out for a skateDown on a deep and dangerous pondBeyond the garden gate.His mother missed him after a while,And thought he'd gone to skate;And running to the fatal pond,She found she was too late.For there, upon the cruel ice,Beyond an air-hole wide,She saw his pretty little hat,And a mitten by it's side.He was her boy, and all the loveThat fills a mother's heartCame forth in tears and sobs and moansBeyond the strength of art.She called the neighbours quick to come,They scraped along the ground;Beneath the water and the ice—The boy could no be found.At last their search was given upUntil a thaw should come;The mother's sobs began afresh,Her sorrow was not dumb.They turned to leave the fatal pool,A voice came clear and free—"Hallo! If you want Frankie Jones,You'll find him up this tree."And so it was—the mother's tearsWere changed to smiles of joy;But gracious heaven, how she spankedHer darling, fair-haired boy!L'EnvoiCooley's BoyThe boy not only preys on my melon-patch and fruit trees, and upon those of my neighbours, but he has an extraordinary aptitude for creating a disturbance in whatever spot he happens to be. Only last Sunday he caused such a terrible commotion in church that the services had to be suspended for several minutes until he could be removed. The interior of the edifice was painted and varnished recently, and I suppose one of the workers must have left a clot of varnish upon the back of Cooley's pew, which is directly across the aisle from mine. Cooley's boy was the only representative of the family at church upon that day, and he amused himself during the earlier portions of the service by kneeling upon the seat and communing with Dr. Jones' boy, who occupied the pew immediately in the rear. Sometimes, when young Cooley would resume a proper position, Jones's boy would stir him up afresh by slyly pulling his hair, whereupon Cooley would wheel about and menace Jones with his fist in a manner which betrayed utter indifference to the proprieties of the place and the occasion, as well as the presence of the congregation. When Cooley finally sank into a condition of repose, he placed his head, most unfortunately, directly against the lump of undried varnish, while he amused himself by reading the commandments and the other scriptural texts upon the wall behind the pulpit.In a few moments he attempted to move, but the varnish had mingled with his hair, and it held him securely. After making one or two desperate but ineffectual efforts to release himself, he became very angry; and supposing that Jones's boy was holding him, he shouted:"Leg go o' my hair! Leg go o' my hair, I tell you!"The clergyman paused just as he was entering upon consideration of "secondly," and the congregation looked around in amazement, in time to perceive young Cooley, with his head against the back of the pew, aiming dreadful blows over his shoulder with his fist at some unseen person behind him. And with every thrust he exclaimed:"I'll smash yer nose after church! I'll go for you, Bill Jones, when I ketch you alone! Leg go o' my hair, I tell you, or I'll knock the stuffin' out o' yer," etc, etc.Meanwhile, Jones's boy sat up at the very end of his pew, far away from Cooley, and looked as solemn as if the sermon had made a deep impression upon him.Max AdelerThree White Boys Dressed in Sunday Best.Three Black Boys Dressed in Sunday Best.Previous-Index-NextPage 39—Boy LandJack The Glutton"Do look at those pigs, as they lay in the straw,"Little Richard said to his papa;"They keep eating longer than ever I saw,What nasty fat gluttons they are!""I see they are feasting" his father replied,"They eat a great deal I allow;But let us remember, before we deride,'Tis the nature, my dear, of a sow."But when a great boy, such as you, my dear Dick,Does nothing but eat all dayAnd keeps sucking things till he makes himself sick,What a glutton! indeed, we may say."When plumcake and sugar forever he picks,And sweetmeats, and comfits, and figs;Pray let him get rid of his own nasty tricks,And then he may laugh at the pigs."Tom the Dainty BoyNever be dainty and throw food away;'Tis sinful, as you must have heard many say;Besides, you yourself may require food some day,Though well fed.So don't smell your plate and turn over your food,And doubt if it's wholesome, or pleasant, or good;Such conduct is not only senseless,—but rudeAnd ill-bred.There was a young boy, who so dainty became,That whether his dinner was fish, flesh or game,He turned up his nose at them all, just the same,And would cry,"I cannot eat this,"—and, "I do not like that;"—"This chicken's too lean,"—and "That mutton's too fat;The dog he may eat it up all, or the cat,But not I.The consequence was that he soon became thin;His bones they stuck out, and his cheeks they sunk in,And his hands were not stronger nor thicker than tin,If so strong.And his legs grew as slender as little hat-pegs,And almost as small was his waist as his legs;And he looked like the laths that are fastened round kegs,Thin and long.And thinner, and thinner, and thinner he grew,A shadow had been rather fat, of the two;In fact, you might easily look him right through,If you tried.And when he was quite the skeleton grown,As weak as a reed, and as cold as a stoneHe fell all to pieces, and with a faint groan,So he died.Boy that robbed the Bird's nest"To-whit! To-whit! To-whee!Will you listen to me?Who stole four eggs I laid,And the nice nest I made?""Not I," said the cow. "Oh, no;Such a thing I'd never do;I gave you a wisp of hay,But didn't take your nest away.""Coo, coo! said the dove,I'll speak a word my love;Who stole that pretty nestFrom a little red-breast?""Not I," said the sheep. "Oh, no.I wouldn't treat a poor bird so;I gave wool the nest to line,But the nest was none of mine."Boy Carried Away By Crows."Caw! Caw!" cried the crow,"I should like to knowWhat thief took awayA bird's nest to-day.""Cluck! Cluck!" said the hen,Don't ask me again!Why I hav'nt a chickWould do such a trick.We all gave her a feather,And she wove them together;I'd scorn to intrudeOn her and her brood.""Chirr-a-whirr! Chirr-a-whirr!We will make a great stir;Let us find out his name,And all cry for shame!""I would not rob a bird,"Said little Mary Green;"I think I never heardOf anything so mean.""'Tis very cruel too,"Said little Alice Neil:"I wonder if he knewHow sad the bird would feel?"A little boy hung down his head,And hid his face, so crimson red;For he stole that pretty nestFrom little robin redbreast;And he felt so full of shame,I do not like to tell his name.But during next weekDressed in his Sunday bestThis boy set out to seekAll for another nest.He robbed a nest up high,Suspended in a tree;Two birds came through the sky,What happened you can see.Cruel BoyWhat! go to see the kittens drownedOn purpose in the yard!I did not think there could be foundA little heart so hard.Poor kittens! No more pretty playWith pussy's wagging tail:Why! I'd go far enough awayBefore I'd see the pail.Poor things! the little child that canBe pleased to go and see,Most likely, when he grows a man,A cruel man will be.And many a wicked thing he'll doBecause his heart is hard:A great deal worse than killing you,Poor kittens in the yard.Tyrannical PatWhat became of tyrannical Pat,Who pelted the dog, and beat the cat,Why, puss scratched his face and tore his hat;And Dash knocked him over as flat as a mat.Mind that!The little boy who bit his NailsSee here a naughty boy, John Thales,Who had a shocking wayOf picking at his finger nails,And biting them all day.And though he had, like other boys,Both soldiers, kites and drums,He liked, much better than these toys,His fingers and his thumbs.Boy who tore his HatAbove on a chair, a little boy sat,For he had torn his nice new hat;And so was punished for doing that.Thief CharleyCharley, Charley, stole the barleyOut of the baker's shop;The baker came out, and gave him a clout,And made that Charley hop.Previous-Index-NextPage 40—Whipping MachineSnooks' Patent Whipping Machine.Snook's Patent Whipping Machine for Flogging Naughty Boys in School"The Snooks' Whipping Machine has proved a total failure."—"Times."Declaration of a Distracted Schoolmaster.A year a go I took charge of a school of 1000 boys. They were a very bad lot indeed, and I could do nothing with them. Being of a mild disposition, I attempted to reason with them; but I might as well have reasoned with the pigs. I then thought of punishing them, but that was a big task, and, besides, what mode of punishment should I adopt? In my utmost perplexity I wrote to Professor Wilderspin—a great authority on the management of boys—and he wrote as follows:"Nearly all boys can be managed by an intelligent schoolmasterwithout punishment, but in a few cases it seems impossible to dowithout it. In every large school in England, Ireland, and Scotlandsome corporal punishment is used, and some must continue to be usedas long as very vicious children continue to exist, or as long asparents spoil their children by over indulgence or by wilfulcriminal neglect before they send them to school.—Yours truly,Professor Wilderspin."I then wrote to twenty-seven of the principal headmasters in the world, and the following are the replies:—From the High School of Eton wrote head-master, Mr. Squeers:"If they don't behave as they should do, why, soundly box their ears."From the Grammar School of Harrow wrote head-master, Mr. Phfool:"If they do not behave themselves, expel them from the school."From the Training School of Rugby wrote head-master, Mr Wist:"Just take a handful of their hair, and give a sharp, short twist."From the College School of Oxford wrote Professor Rarey Hook:"Instead of nearly killing, overawe them with a look."From the Bible School of Cambridge wrote Professor William Brying:"Well whip them with a birchen rod, and never mind their crying."From the Blue Coat School of London wrote Professor Rupert Gower:"At arm's length make them hold a book the space of half-an-hour."From the Naval School of Liverpool wrote head-master Mr. Jointer:"Just rap them on the knuckles with a common teacher's pointer."From the People's School of Manchester wrote head-master Mr. Flowers:"Make them kneel down as still as death for just about two hours."From the Infant School of Birmingham wrote Professor Dory Heller:"Just put on them a fool's cap, marked 'dunce,' 'thief,' or 'story-teller'."From the Charity school of Sheffield wrote head-master, Mr. Clay:"If the boys are disobedient, do not let them out to play."From the Gentleman's School at Brighton wrote Professor Robert Flask:"If the boys will act unruly, why, just make them do a task."From the National School of Bristol wrote Professor Mark Groom:"If the boys are extra naughty, shut them in a dark room."From the District School of Edenburgh wrote head-master, Mr. Glass:"The naughty boys should all be sent to the bottom of the class."From the Mixed School of Glasgow wrote Professor Duncan Law:"To keep a proper kind of school, just use the three-tailed taw."From the Latin School of Dublin wrote Professor Patrick Clayrence:"If the boys are very bad boys, write a letter to their parents."From the Mission School, Calcutta, wrote the Rev. Mr. Mac Look:"Try them by a boy jury, write the verdict in a black-book."From the Lyceum of New York wrote Professor Henry Bothing:"Take your delinquent boys one hour and make them sit on nothing."From the Public School, Chicago, wrote head-master, Mr. Norrids:"If they will not behave themselves, why, just you slap their foreheads."From, the Academy of San Francisco wrote head-master, Mr. Power:"Make them stoop and hold their fingers on the floor for just an hour."From the Mormon School of Utah wrote Professor Orson Pratt:"First strip and make them fast, and then just use the little cat."From the King's College, Lisbon, wrote Professor Don Cassiers:"If you want to make them good boys, pull, pinch, and twist their ears."From the Cadet's School of Paris wrote Professor Monsieur Sour:"Just make them hold their hands above their heads for one full hour."From the Royal School of Amsterdam wrote Professor Vander Tooler:"If they will not behave themselves, just trounce them with a ruler."From the Model School of Pekin wrote Professor Cha Han Coo:"Just put their hands into the stocks and beat with a bamboo."From the Normal School of Moscow wrote Professor Ivan Troute:"To make your boys the best of boys, why, just use the knout."From the Muslim School of Cairo wrote the Mufti, Pasha Saido:"Upon the bare soles of their feet give them the bastinado."From the Common School of Berlin wrote Professor Von de Rind:"There's nothing like the old, old way that ever could I find;Just lay them right across your knee and cane them well behind.I've only just been speaking mit mine goot frien', Doctor Whistim,And he says that it does no harm, but is felt throughout the system."At last, as I was thinking deep how puzzling all this looks,I received a tempting offer from a certain Mr. Snooks.His "great machine to whip with speed" I brought with flusteration,But to see just how it did succeed you view the illustration.And then look at "Professor Cole's Gentle Persuader." next page.Previous-Index-NextPage 41—Whipping MachineCole's Patent Whipping Machine.Cole's Patent Whipping Machine for Flogging Naughty Boys in SchoolTestimonial from a Schoolmaster(To Mr. Cole, Book Arcade, Melbourne)SIR—Your Patent Flogger is a "keen"Success as a labor-saving machine;'Twill yet be held in great esteem,Already 'tis the Poet's theme;It's the greatest patent that's ever beenIn or out of a schoolroom seen;And as you have got it to go by steam,School-life will now be all serene.I have not had a bad boy remaining now, but before I used your machine they used to be a frightful lot of young scamps. For instance, in my school of 1000, the first day the machine was introduced, 741 were punished for various misdeeds, and 103 for single offences, were flogged as follows:—John Hawking, for talkingWilliam Winning, for grinningGeorge Highing, for cryingEdward Daring, for swearingHenry Wheeling, for stealingPeter Bitting, for spittingRobert Hocking, for smokingFrederick Mention, for inattentionJoseph Footing, for pea-shootingLuke Jones, for throwing stonesMatthew Sauter, for squirting waterNicholas Storms, for upsetting formsReuben Wrens, for spoiling pensSamuel Jinks, for spilling inkSimon McLeod, for laughing aloudTimothy Stacies, for making facesVictor Bloomers, for taking lunarsVincent James, for calling namesCaleb Hales, for telling talesDaniel Padley, for writing badlyDavid Jessons, for cribbing lessonsEdmond Gate, for coming lateEzra Lopen, for leaving the door openEdwin Druent, for playing the truantCharles Case, for leaving his placeErnest Jewell, for eating during schoolCoo Ah Hi, for using a shanghaiFrancis Berindo, for breaking a windowHarold Tate, for breaking his slateIsaac Joys, for making noiseJacob Crook, for tearing his bookChristopher Moyes, for teasing other boysElisha Sewell, for bolting from schoolConrad Draper, for throwing chewed paperEbenezer Good, for telling a falsehoodFelix Snooks, for coming without booksCyril Froude, for speaking too loudElijah Rowe, for speaking too lowGregory Meek, for refusing to speakHannibal Hartz, for throwing paper dartsHorace Poole, for whistling in schoolHubert Shore, for slamming the doorJesse Blane, for hiding the caneJonah Platts, for hiding boys' hatsAaron Esk, for cutting the deskAbner Rule, for sleeping in schoolAdam Street, for changing his seatAlbert Mayne, for splitting the teacher's caneAlexander Tressons, for reading during other lessonsAlfred Hoole, for eating lollies in schoolAmbrose Hooke, for blotting his copy-bookAmos Blair, for not combing his hairAndrew Grace, for not washing his faceAnthony Sands, for not washing his handsArnold Cootz, for coming in with dirty bootsBenjamin Guess, for coming with untidy dressClarence Hyneman, for annoying a stray ChinamanMichael McToole, for bringing stones to schoolCuthbert Flindow, for climbing through the windowEdgar Gasking, for going without askingEric Grout, for kicking boys' hats aboutEnoch McKay, for pinching the next boyGabriel Cook, for tearing a boy's bookHyram Pope, for pulling the bell ropeHumphrey Proof, for getting on the roofJonah Earls, for chasing school-girlsJonathan Spence, for climbing over the fencePhillip Cannister, for sliding down the bannisterLambert Hesk, for sliding on a deskLawrence Storm, for standing on a formLazarus Beet, for stamping with his feetLeopold Bate, for swinging on the gateLewis Lesks, for kicking legs of desksMark Vine, for overstepping the toe-lineNathan Corder, for not marching in orderNorman Hall, for scribbling on the wallJames Mace, for hitting a boy in the faceThomas Sayers, for pushing boys down the stairsOswald Hook, for losing a school-bookRalph Chesson, for not knowing his lessonSampson Skinner, for eating another boy's dinnerSolomon Brook, for scribbling in his bookStephen Platt, for chasing the master's catNeal M'Kimney, dropping a brick down the chimneyTheodore Le Soof, for throwing stones on the roofValentine Rapp, for turning on the water-tapWalter Hope, for climbing up the bell-ropeJoshua Gail, for catching flies on the wallRaymond Esk, for sticking pins in the deskJulian State, for drawing pictures on his slateGerald Astor, for being impudent to the masterAugustus Roff, for not taking his hat offRupert Keats, for fixing pens in boys' seatsMaurice Took, for having a dirty copybookEsau Klaster, for drawing caricatures of the masterPaul Bhool, for letting a bird loose in schoolJabez Breeding, for not knowing the place at readingLevi Stout, for stopping too long when let outGuy M'Gill, sharpening a knife on the window-sillDuncan Heather, pinning two boys' coat-tails togetherEzekiel Black, pinning paper on another boy's backPatrick O'Toole, for bursting a paper-bag in schoolEli Teet, for putting cobbler's wax on master's seatPrevious-Index-NextPage 42—Dolly LandGirl Showing Dolly to Polly.My Lady DollMy Lady-doll is pretty,My Lady-doll is sweet;I like to show my Lady-dollTo every one I meetMy Sweet Dolly RoseO sweet, so sweet,Is my Dolly Rose!Just all that I knowMy Dolly knows;And when I am gladThe darling is gladAnd when I am sadThe darling is sad.How dear she is,O, nobody knows,No, no, not evenMy precious RosePolly's DollyShining eyes, very blue,Opened very wide;Yellow curls, very stiff,Hanging side by side;Chubby cheeks, very pink,Lips red as holly;No ears, and only thumbs—That's Polly's Dolly.Pretty DollOh dear! what a beautiful dollMy sister has bought at the fairShe says I must call it Miss Poll,And make it a bonnet to wear.Oh pretty new doll, it looks fine!It's cheeks are all covered with red.But pray will it always be mine?And please may I take it to bed?How kind was my sister to buyThis dolly with hair that will curl;Perhaps, if you want to know why,It's because I've been a good girl.POEMS FOR CHILDRENPuss with Doll.Puss's DollNow Puss had a dollThat Dame Trot bought to please her,And gave it the beautifulName of LouisaAnd when Kitty was lonesomeOr wanted to play,She'd cry for Loo! Loo!In a comical way.The dolly was petted,Was kissed and caressed,Though often quite roughlyIt must be confessedAnd so pleased was Miss PussWith Louisa's fair charms,She took her cat's meat,With the doll in her armsPussy and Doggy Fighting for Dolly.Pussy and Doggy Fighting for DollyAnd once, I remember,Oh, sad was the day,The cat answered backIn an impudent way.And tray was so jealous,The two had a fight,And between them the dollWas a terrible frightPrevious-Index-NextPage 43—Dolly LandDolly Tumbled out of Bed.Dolly Tumbled out of Bed'Tis very well to smile—now,But you gave me such a fright,When I missed you, darling Dolly,In the middle of the night.I thought we played together,And you fell into a stream;Yet I said—just half awaking—"'Tis nothing but a dream."For safe upon my pillowLies her curly golden hair,"Then I reached my hand to touch you,But I couldn't find you there.I felt so sad and lonelyThat I cried, but all in vain;So to see if I could find you,I went off to sleep again.Now, fancy! in the morningThere you were, all safe and right;And nurse said, "Here's poor Dolly,Been upon the floor all night!"Your pretty curls are tangled,They were so nice and smooth before;So promise, Dolly darling,You will tumble out no more!Dolly and II love my dear dolly;I'll tell you her name,I called her "Sweet Polly"The day that she came.My Uncle John brought herFrom over the sea;And no one shall part us,My dolly and me.She has cheeks like red roses,And eyes blue and bright,That open with daylight,And close with the night.She cries, and says, "Mam-ma,Mam-mam-ma," so well,That it is not a babyYou scarcely can tell.You know, I'm her own ma;A small one, you'll say,But just right for dolly,Who wants nought but play.No teaching, no training,Few clothes and no food;And I like being her ma,Because she's so good.Dolly's Broken ArmMamma, do send for Doctor Man,And tell him to be quick,My dolly fell and broke her arm,So she is very sick.I thought that she was fast asleep,And laid her on her bed,But down she dropped upon the floor;O dear! she's almost dead!Poor dolly! she was just as brave,And did not cry at all;Do you suppose she ever canGet over such a fall?But when the doctor mends her arm,And wraps it up so tight,Then I will be her little nurse,And watch her all the night.And if she only will get well,And does not lose her arm,I'll never let her fall again,Nor suffer any harm.Little PollyLittle Polly,Had a dolly,With a curly wig;And Miss PollyAnd her dolly,Often danced a jig.Also Pollyhad a collie,A fine dog was he;Blithe and jolly,Jumped round Polly,Barking loud with glee.One day PollyKnocked her dolly,Broke its pretty head."Oh, fie, Polly!Don't hurt dolly,"Said her brother Ned.Then did PollyTake up Dolly,Throw it on the floor.Said Miss Polly,In her folly"I will play no more."Up ran collie,Seized poor dolly,Ran off to a friend.Friend helped collieTo tear up dolly—That was poor dolly's end.Reading Dolly Land.Two Dollies Getting Up.Previous-Index-NextPage 44—Dolly LandGirl with Dolly.A Little Girl's Song to Her DollyLie down, little Dolly.Lie still on my lap,It's time now to put onYour night dress and cap;You have not been to sleepAll through this long dayOh, what a long timeFor a Dolly to play!The bright sun went downMore than two hours ago;It is long past your bedtime,You very well know:The stars are now peepingFrom out the blue skies;Then go to sleep, Dolly!Come, shut your blue eyes.Mamma says the flowersWere asleep long ago—Sweet roses and lilies,Their heads bending low;She says 'tis a lessonFor me and for you—That children and dolliesShould be asleep too.Hark! Susan is calling—Now out goes the light;I will tug you up snugly,And kiss you good night.It is time you were sleepingFor do you not knowThe dear little birdsWent to sleep long ago?Don't Cry My DollyHushy, baby, my dolly,I pray you don't cry,And I'll give you some breadAnd some milk by and by;Or perhaps you like custard,Or maybe a tart,—Then to either you're welcome,With all my whole heart.The Little Girl and Her DollThere, got to sleep, Dolly,In own mother's lap,I've put on your nightgownAnd neat little cap.So sleep, pretty baby,And shut up your eye,Bye-bye, little Dolly,Lie still, and bye-bye.I'll lay my clean handkerchiefOver your head,And then make believeThat my lap is your bed;So hush, little dear,And be sure you don't cry.Bye-bye, little Dolly,Lie still, and bye-bye.There, now it is morningAnd time to get up,And I'll give you some milkIn my doll's china cup.So wake up, little babyAnd open your eye,For I think it high timeTo have done with bye-bye.Jane TaylorSleep, Dolly SleepSleep, Dolly, sleep.You must not, must not weep.Now close your eyes so brown,And let me lay you down.Sleep, Dolly, sleep.Wake, Dolly, wake,Too long a nap you take;It's time to make the tea,And you must help, you see.Wake, Dolly, wake.Run, Dolly, run,Run out in golden sun;Run up the hill with me,And then to the apple-tree.Run, Dolly, run.Mrs HibbertMy DollyShut your eyes, my darling!When the shadows creep,When the flowers are closingLittle ones must sleep.Don't be frightened, Dolly!In my arms you lie;Nestle down and slumberTo my lullabyDolly is so active,Always full of fun,Wakeful still and smilingE'en when day is doneHush thee now, my dearest,To my slumber-song;Children lose their roses,Sitting up too long.My DollyI must go home to dolly,And put her to bed;I know she's so tired,She can't raise her head.Some dolls are so old,They can sit up till eight,But mine gets quite illIf she stays up so late!Dolly's AsleepTell me a storyJust one, mother dear.Candles are comingBedtime is nearThere is my hand to holdBend down your head,Don't speak too loud, mother,Dolly's in bedNo! not the storyOf old Jack and JillThey were so stupidTo tumble down the hill.I'm tired of Jack HornerAnd Little Bo-peep.—Stay! let me seeIf Dolly's asleep.Hush, Dolly darling!I'm watching, you knowNo one shall hurt you;I will not go.You are so warm,—Like a bird in it's nest.Go to sleep, darling,—Rest, Dolly, rest.Ah! there is MaryJust come in with a light:Now there is no timeFor a story to-night,Please make the boys, mother,Mind how they tread.Their boots are so heavy,And—Dolly's in bed.Good night, dear mother!Ask papa, please,When he comes home,Not to cough or to sneezeGive me your hand, MaryHush! softly creep;We must not wake her,—Dolly's asleep.If at all restlessOr wakeful she seems,Don't be to anxious;I fancy she dreams.Say to her softly,Just shaking your head;"Go to sleep, Dolly,—Adie's in bed."HUSH! (Dolls are sleeping.)Previous-Index-NextPage 45—Dolly LandGirl with Doll.Lost DollyThe sunflowers hang their heavy headsAnd wish the sun would shine;The clouds are grey; the wind is cold."Where is that doll of mine?The dark is coming fast," said she."I'm in a dreadful fright.I don't know where I left my doll,And she'll be out all night"Twice up and down the garden-walksI looked; but she's not there,Oh! yes, I've hunted in the hay;I've hunted everywhere.I must have left her out of doors,But she is not in sight.No Dolly in the summer-house,And she'll be out all night."The dew will wet her through and throughAnd spoil her dear best dress;And she will wonder where I amAnd be in such distress;The dogs may find her in the grass,And bark or even bite;And all the bats will frighten herThat fly about at night."I've not been down into the woodsOr by the brook to-day.I'm sure I had her in my armsWhen I came out to play,Just after dinner; then I know,I watched Tom make his kite.Will anybody steal my dollIf she stays out all night."I wonder where Papa has gone?Why, here he comes; and seeHe's bringing something in his hand;That's Dolly certainly!And so you found her in the chaise,And brought her home all right?I'll take her to the baby-house.I'm glad she's home tonight."Sarah O. JewettTalking To DollyWell, Dolly, what are you saying,When you blink and wink your eyes?I'm sure your thoughts are straying,For you look so very wise.I wonder what you think about,And why you never talk,And how it is you never shout,And never try to walk!I wonder if you're ever sad,And if you ever weep;I wonder if you're ever gladWhen I rock you off to sleep.I wonder if you love me well—As well as I love you.I do so wish you'd try and tell;Come, Dolly, darling, do!Darling DollyDarling Dolly's house shall beHigh as lofty apple-tree;It shall have a door inlaid,Of the sweetest light and shade.It shall have for pictures fairFancies that are rich and rare;It shall have a golden roof,And tapestry with stars for woof.And it shall have a dome of blueWith the moonlight streaming through,And stately pillars, straight as firs,Bending to each wind that stirs.Darling Dolly's house shall beHigh as a lofty apple-tree;It shall have a door inlaid,Of the sweetest light and shade.Girl Showing Doll to Another Girl.Sour Grapes"Such a doll! I wouldn't have it,With its trailing baby dress!Pooh! a dolly twice as handsomeI could have for asking, Bess.Needn't ask me if it's pretty,No, I do not care to wait,I am in an awful hurry,If you keep me, I'll be late."Off went Nannie, proud lip curling,Head uplifted in disdain,Bessie hugged her dolly closely,Laughing over truth so plain."Nan was envious, Dolly darling,'Twasn't aught of wrong in you,But the trouble lay in Nannie,She would like to own you too."My Dolly House.Previous-Index-NextPage 46—Dolly LandOh, you Naughty Dog to Bite my Dolly.Boo! Boo! Boo! He has Swallowed my Dolly.Ten Little DolliesTen little dolliesStanding in a line,One tumbled down,And then there were nine.Nine little dolliesSitting up so late,One went to sleepThen there were eight.Eight little dollies—All their ages even,One grew up tallAnd then there were seven.Seven little dollies,Full of funny tricks,One snapt her head offThen there were six.Six little dollies—Looked almost alive,One lost her "pin-back,"Then there were five.Five little dollies,Walking by a door,One got her nose pinched,Then there were four.Four little dolliesOn their mamma's knee,One cried her eyes out,Then there were three.Three little dollies,Didn't know what to do,One tore her bows off,Then there were two.Two little dollies,Very fond of fun,One melts her nose off,Then there was one.One little dolly,Living all alone,Died broken-hearted,Then there were none.Teaching Dolly ABC.Kissing after a Doll Quarrel.Previous-Index-NextPage 47—Dolly LandWashing Dolly's Clothes.My WeekOn Monday I wash my dollies' clothes,On Tuesday smoothly press 'em,On Wednesday mend their little hose,On Thursday neatly dress 'em.On Friday I play they're taken ill,On Saturday something or other;But when Sunday comes, I say, "Lie still,I'm going to church with mother."Giving Dolly a Bath.Dirty DollyNaughty Miss Dolly played out in the mud,And got all her clothes quite black;And now such a rubbing, and scrubbing and tubbingAs we have to give them, good lack!'Tis hard to be mothers and laundresses too,And nurses and cooks beside.Grown people don't know all we chicks have to do,For how can they tell till they've tried?Washing Day TroublesI know a little girl who tried,To wash her dolly's clothes, one day,In Bridget's great, big tub, and criedBecause mamma sent her awayTo find her own small dolly-tub,More fit for little girls to use.But naughty Sally shook her headAnd all suggestions did refuse.And when she found herself alone,She went to Bridget's tub again,But, as is sure to be the case,Her disobedience brought her pain.For, what do you think? she tumbled in,And gave herself an awful fright,And no one pitied her; in fact,They all laughed at her in her plight.Washing DollyMiss Mary standing at the tubGiving dolly a thorough scrub.Trying to make her nice and sweetBefore she dresses for the street.If health an happiness you'd gleanRemember always to keep clean.Doll Rosy's Bath'Tis time Doll Rosy had a bath,And she'll be good, I hope;She likes the water well enough,But she doesn't like the soap.Now soft I'll rub her with a sponge,Her eyes and nose and ears,And splash her fingers in the bowlAnd never mind the tears.There now—oh, my! what have I done?I've washed the skin off—see!Her pretty pink and white are goneEntirely! oh, dear me!The New Tea-ThingsCome, Dolly, come quick,For I want you to seeThe present mammaHas just given to me;A set of new tea-thingsThat really hold tea.A dear little teapotTo keep the tea hot,And tiny white cupsWith a pretty blue spot,And a glass sugar-basin.How nice, is it not?And I am to use themThis same afternoon;So Dolly I'll give youSome tea very soonIn a little white cup,With a saucer and spoon.Tea With Dolls.Previous-Index-NextPage 48—Dolly LandSewing Doll Clothes.Doll Dress-makingMaking Dolly's dresses,Don't you think it's fun?Here is one already,That I've just begunOh, how many stitches!And such a tangly thread!When I pricked my fingerI just guess it bledThere! the needle's broken—Bending all about—That's a sign my dolly'llWear the dresses outYouth's CompanionDolly TownHave you ever been down to Dolly Town?The sight would do you goodThere the dollies walk,And the dollies talk,And they ride aboutIn a grand turn-out,With a coachman thinWho is made of tin,And a footman made of woodThere are very fine houses in Dolly Town,Red, and green and blue;And a doctor, too,Who has much to do,Just to mend their toesAnd their arms and nose,When they tumble downAnd crack their crownAnd the stuff they take is glueBut the finest sight in Dolly TownThat place to children dear—Is no dolly at all,Though so neat and smallIf you've time to spare,Go on tiptoe there,See the pretty girl, the rose, the pearl,Who is Queen of Dolly TownMy Little Doll RoseI have a little doll,I take care of her clothesShe has soft flaxen hair,And her name is RoseShe has pretty blue eyes,And a very small nose,And a cunning little mouth,And her name is RoseI have a little sofaWhere my dolly may repose,Or sit up like a lady;And her name is RoseMy doll can move her arms,And can stand upon her toes,She can make a pretty curtseyMy dear little RoseHow old is your dolly?Very young I suppose,For she cannot go alone,My pretty little RoseIndeed I cannot tellIn poetry or proseHow beautiful she is,My darling little Rose.E. FollenSewing For DollySuch a busy little mother!Such a pretty little "child"!Did you ever see a dollyWith a face more sweet and mild?Such a comfort to her mother,Who is busy all the day,And who never finds a momentWith her little girl to playThere are dresses to be altered,There are aprons to be made,"For my child in wardrobe mattersMust not be thrown in shade"Says the busy little mother,As she clips and works away,And a brand new dress for DollyWill be made this very dayThe Lost DollI once had a sweet little doll, dears,The prettiest doll in the world;Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,And her hair was so charmingly curled.But I lost my poor little doll, dears,As I played in the heath one day;I cried for her more than a week, dears,But I could never find where she lay.Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,For her paint is all washed away,And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears,And her hair is not the least bit curled;Yet for old sake's sake she is still, dears,The prettiest doll in the world.Charles KingsleyDolly's Patchwork CounterpaneOh, Mary, see what the nurse has found,Such store of pieces in my box!Some green, and some with lilac ground.They'll make such lovely blocksShe says she'll teach me how to makeA counterpane for Dolly's bed,This lovely piece I first will take,With sprays of roses white and redAnd thin this piece with purple spotsWill look so pretty next to that!I'll keep my cotton free from knots,And make my stitches neat and flatAnd "when I've finished it," she saysShe'll line it with a square of white.Oh, Dolly dear! your little bedWill be a most enchanting sight!The Wooden DollI'm but a wooden doll,Have neither wit nor grace;And very clumsy in my jointsAnd yet I know my place.Most people laugh at a wooden doll,And wooden I may be,But little children love me muchAnd that's enough for me.When I am dressed in fine long clothes,In fur, and silk, and lace,I think myself I'm not so badAnd yet I know my place.Let people laugh—I know I'm wood:Wax I can never be;But little children think I'm grand—That's quite enough for me.Buy My DollsCome buy my dolls, my pretty dolls:Come buy my dolls, I pray:I've such a heap,And I sell so cheap,I almost give them away.I've waxen dolls, and china dolls,And dollies made of gum,Some are small,And some are tall,Some talk and some are dumb.Bald head dolls, and dolls with hair,All beauties in their way—So very nice,So low in price,Please buy my dolls to-day.Laughing dolls, and crying dolls;Dolls of various ages,Infant dolls,And lady dolls,Dolls in all the stages.Go where you may, you will not findSuch bargains as are theseMake my heart light,Buy them to night,To grace your Christmas trees.Finishing Dolls.Previous-Index-NextPage 49—Dolly LandDoctor Charlie and His Patient.Doctor Charlie and His PatientRun for the doctor!Dolly's very sick!Mary, you'll have to go,I cannot leave her;Tell him to pack his bottlesAnd come quick;I think she has gotA very dangerous fever."In stalks a hat and cane;If you look close,You'll see Doctor Charlie,Somewhere under;He takes a pinch of snuffAnd blows his nose,While poor sick DollySeems to stare in wonder.He feels her pules, heGravely shakes his head:His hat dropped o'er his eyesWith the shake he gave it;He says poor dollyMust be put to bedAnd have her head shaved—He, in fact, will shave it.Poor mamma sober looks,But says at onceThat "Dolly's head shallNot be shaved! I guess not!Her hair would never growAgain, you dunce!""It shall!" "It shan't!""She'll die then, if it's not!"But Mary, ere the quarrelGets too grave(Already in her handA bowl of gruel),Says, "Don't you knowThat doctors do not shave?And then besides,It really would be cruel!""I'll give her pills, then,When she's safe in bed,Plenty and sweet—of sugarI will make them;As dolly cannot eat,'Twill do insteadFor you and me andMary here to take them."Dollies' Broken NosesTwo little babiesIn carriages two,Two little nursesWith duty to do.Both little nursesWere careful at first,Soon both grew careless—Which was the worst.O what a pitifulWail from the street!One broken railTrips four little feet.Over went carriages,Babies and all,And two china nosesWere cracked in the fall.The Soldier DollyThere once was a sweet tiny maiden,A wee little woman of four,Who scarce could reach up to the table,Or open the nursery door;And this poor little maid, she was crying—Her dolly had such a fall!Yes there on the ground he was lying—Her darling, the best of them all.This dolly had been a brave soldier,With uniform, sabre, and all,And worshipp'd a doll in the doll's-house,That stood by the side of the wall.She was only a poor tiny maiden,A wee little woman of four,And she sat with her heart nearly breaking,With the doll in her lap on the floor.And the poor, tiny, sorrowful maiden,The wee little woman of four,Now lies with her dead soldier dolly,Asleep on the nursery floor.The Dead DollYou needn't be trying to comfort me—I tell you my dolly is dead!There's no use saying she isn't—With a crack like that on her head.It's just like you said it wouldn't hurtMuch to have my tooth out that day.And then when they most pulledMy head off, you hadn't a word to say.And I guess you must think I'm a baby,When you say you can mend it with glue!As if I didn't know better than that!Why, just suppose it was you?You might make her look all mended—But what do I care for looks?Why, glue's for chairs and tables,And toys, and the backs of books!My dolly! my own little daughter!Oh, but it's the awfullest crack!It just makes me sick to think of the soundWhen her poor head went whackAgainst this horrible brass thingThat holds up the little shelf.Now, Nursey, what makes you remind me?I know that I did it myself?I think you must be crazy—You'll get her another head!What good would forty heads do her?I tell you my dolly is dead!And to think that I hadn't quite finishedHer elegant New Year's hat!And I took a sweet ribbon of hersList night to tie on that horrid cat!When my mamma gave me that ribbon—I was playing out in the yard—She said to me most expressly:"Here's a ribbon for Hildegarde."And I went and put it on Tabby,And Hildegarde saw me do it;But I said to myself, "Oh, never mind,I don't believe she knew it!"But I know that she knew it now,And I just believe, I do,That her poor little heart was broken,And so her head broke too.Oh, my baby! my little baby!I wish my head had been hit!For I've hit it over and over,And it hasn't cracked a bit.But since the darling is dead,She'll want to be buried of course;We will take my little wagon, Nurse,And you shall be the horse;And I'll walk behind and cry;And we'll put her in this—you see,This dear little box—and we'll buryThem under the maple tree.And papa will make a tombstone,Like the one he made for my bird;And he'll put what I tell him on it—Yes, every single word!I shall say: "Here lies Hildegarde,A beautiful doll that is dead;She died of a broken heart,And a dreadful crack in her head."Margaret VandegriftDolly's DoctorDolly, my darling, is dreadfully sick;Oh, dear! what shall I do?Despatch to the doctor a telephone quickTo bring her a remedy new.Hush! that is the doctor's tap! tap! tap!Don't make such a terrible noise—Don't you see how the darling lies still on my lap,And never looks up at you boys!Come, doctor, and tell me now just what you thinkWould be best for my darling so sweet.'Give dolly a bucket of water to drink,In a bowl of hot gruel put her feet.'Giving Sick Dolly Medicine.Previous-Index-NextPage 50—Dolly LandDollies Courting.Christening DollySee, this is my Christmas dolly,Two weeks ago she came;And, oh! the trouble I have hadTo find a pretty name.At first I thought of Marguerite—A French name, meaning "pearl"—But Nellie said, "Oh! that's too stiffFor such a graceful girl."And then I mentioned, one by one,Susanna, Ruth, and Poll,"But they are too old-fashioned namesSaid Nell, "to suit your doll."So the next day I got a great big book,And searched it through and through,Then shook my head and sadly said:"There's not one name will do."My brother Tom was sitting near,He raised his eyes and smiled;"Why, Pussy dear," he kindly said,"Suppose I name your child.""Oh! will you Brother Tom?" I cried,And then I hugged him, so; (hugging her doll.)"We'll play you are the parsonThat christens folks, you know."So then, he took her in his armsAnd solemnly and slowHe said: "This baby's name shall beMiss Josephine, or Jo."And there, before I knew it,My baby had a name;And what I like about it, is,That mine is just the same.E.C. and J.T. RookThe Dollies VisitThree little girls brought each a doll,To pass an afternoon;The dresses all were soon displayed,Their bangles made a tune;And when they parted to go home,One young girl shrewdly said:"Our dollies have behaved real nice—They have no scandal spread."W.The Little Girl Over The WayWhenever I'm tired of reading,Or lonely in my play,I come to the window here, and watchThe little girl over the way.But she will not look nor listen,Nor stand for a moment still;And though I watch her the livelong day,I'm afraid she never will.For some day some one will buy her,And carry her quite away;—She is only a doll in a great glass-case,The little girl over the way.Maggie's Talk to DollMy dolly dear,Come sit up here!And say why you don't cry.I've struck your headAgainst the bed,And cracked your pretty eye,My dolly dear,Do sit up here,And let me see your face;And say, my pet,Why you don't fretNow Pug has got your place.My pretty PollMy dear, dear doll,Why don't you eat or talk?Like sister Jane,And Sally Blane,And then go for a walk?You have an eye,But never cry,And lips, but never prattle;You've fingers ten,Like brother Ben,But never shake the rattle.You never eat,Nor drink, nor sleep,Nor move unless you're carried:And when I pinch,You never flinch,Nor say that you are worried.Minnie to DollyYour hair is so pretty,Your eyes are so blue,Your cheeks are so rosy,Your frock is so new,You're the prettiest dollyI ever did see.Though your hair is so pretty,And your eyes are so blue,I'd rather be MinnieThan I would be you,For you can't see the flowersWhen they come up in spring;You can't hear the birdies,How sweetly they sing;Nor run out of doorsTo look in the sky,And see the white cloudsAs they pass swiftly by.You've no kind of papaOr mamma to be near,To love you and teach you;So, dolly, my dear,Though your cheeks are so rosy,And your dress is so new,I'd rather be MinnieThan I would be you.My DollyMy Dolly, Polly Angelina Brown,Has a pretty little bonnet,And a pretty little gown;A pretty little bonnet,With a lovely feather on it;Oh, there's not another like itTo be found in all the town!My Dolly, Polly, is a precious little pet;Her eyes are bright as jewels,And her hair is black as jet;I hug her, and I kiss her!And oh, how I should miss herIf she were taken from me;Oh how I should grieve and fret!My little brother Charley,Says my Dolly is "a muff,"And he calls her other horrid namesThough that is bad enough;And though he's very clever,I never, no, I neverLet him handle her or dandle her,For boys, you know, are rough.My Dolly's always smiling;She was never known to frown.And she looks so very charmingIn her Sunday hat and gown.You really ought to see herTo get a good ideaOf the beauty of my Dolly,Polly Angelina Brown.Dolly's WeddingCome along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!Charley has got his night-gown on.Mary has put the chairs:Charley is the clergymanWho'll marry them up-stairs.Come along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!Sambo has got an old white hat,And a coat with but one tail;Sambo's face is very black,Dolly's is rather pale.Come along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!Sambo has got a woolly pate,Dolly has golden hair.When Sambo marries Dolly,They'll be a funny pair!Come along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!Wedding For Dolls.Previous-Index-Next

That Nice Boy"Nice child—very nice child," observed an old gentleman, crossing to the other side of the car and addressing the mother of the boy who had just hit him in the eye with a wad of paper. "How old are you, my son?""None of your business," replied the youngster, taking aim at another passenger."Fine boy," smiled the old man, as the parent regarded her offspring with pride. "A remarkably fine boy. What is your name, my son?""Puddin' Tame!" shouted the youngster, with a giggle at his own wit."I thought so," continued the old man, pleasantly. "If you had given me three guesses at it, that would have been the first one I would have struck on. Now, Puddin', you can blow those things pretty straight, can't you?""You bet!" squealed the boy, delighted at the compliment. "See me take that old fellow over there!""No, no!" exclaimed the old gentleman, hastily. "Try it on the old woman I was sitting with. She has boys of her own, and she won't mind.""Can't you hit the lady for the gentleman, Johnny?" asked the fond parent.Johnny cleverly landed the pellet on the end of the old woman's nose.But she did mind it, and rising in her wrath soared down on the small boy like a hawk. She put him over the line, reversed him, ran him backwards, till he didn't know which end of him was front, and finally dropped him into the lap of the scared mother, with a benediction whereof the purport was that she'd be back in a moment to skin him alive."She didn't seem to like it, Puddin'," smiled the old gentleman, softly. "She's a perfect stranger to me; but I understand she is the matron of an Orphans' Home, and I thought she would like a little fun; but I was mistaken."And the old man smiled sweetly as he went back to his seat. He was sorry for the poor little boy, but he couldn't help it.A Wicked BoyOf all the small boys in our townThat Jones boy was the worst,And if the "bad man" came aroundHe'd take that Jones boy first.One day he slipped away from homeAnd went out for a skateDown on a deep and dangerous pondBeyond the garden gate.His mother missed him after a while,And thought he'd gone to skate;And running to the fatal pond,She found she was too late.For there, upon the cruel ice,Beyond an air-hole wide,She saw his pretty little hat,And a mitten by it's side.He was her boy, and all the loveThat fills a mother's heartCame forth in tears and sobs and moansBeyond the strength of art.She called the neighbours quick to come,They scraped along the ground;Beneath the water and the ice—The boy could no be found.At last their search was given upUntil a thaw should come;The mother's sobs began afresh,Her sorrow was not dumb.They turned to leave the fatal pool,A voice came clear and free—"Hallo! If you want Frankie Jones,You'll find him up this tree."And so it was—the mother's tearsWere changed to smiles of joy;But gracious heaven, how she spankedHer darling, fair-haired boy!L'EnvoiCooley's BoyThe boy not only preys on my melon-patch and fruit trees, and upon those of my neighbours, but he has an extraordinary aptitude for creating a disturbance in whatever spot he happens to be. Only last Sunday he caused such a terrible commotion in church that the services had to be suspended for several minutes until he could be removed. The interior of the edifice was painted and varnished recently, and I suppose one of the workers must have left a clot of varnish upon the back of Cooley's pew, which is directly across the aisle from mine. Cooley's boy was the only representative of the family at church upon that day, and he amused himself during the earlier portions of the service by kneeling upon the seat and communing with Dr. Jones' boy, who occupied the pew immediately in the rear. Sometimes, when young Cooley would resume a proper position, Jones's boy would stir him up afresh by slyly pulling his hair, whereupon Cooley would wheel about and menace Jones with his fist in a manner which betrayed utter indifference to the proprieties of the place and the occasion, as well as the presence of the congregation. When Cooley finally sank into a condition of repose, he placed his head, most unfortunately, directly against the lump of undried varnish, while he amused himself by reading the commandments and the other scriptural texts upon the wall behind the pulpit.In a few moments he attempted to move, but the varnish had mingled with his hair, and it held him securely. After making one or two desperate but ineffectual efforts to release himself, he became very angry; and supposing that Jones's boy was holding him, he shouted:"Leg go o' my hair! Leg go o' my hair, I tell you!"The clergyman paused just as he was entering upon consideration of "secondly," and the congregation looked around in amazement, in time to perceive young Cooley, with his head against the back of the pew, aiming dreadful blows over his shoulder with his fist at some unseen person behind him. And with every thrust he exclaimed:"I'll smash yer nose after church! I'll go for you, Bill Jones, when I ketch you alone! Leg go o' my hair, I tell you, or I'll knock the stuffin' out o' yer," etc, etc.Meanwhile, Jones's boy sat up at the very end of his pew, far away from Cooley, and looked as solemn as if the sermon had made a deep impression upon him.Max AdelerThree White Boys Dressed in Sunday Best.

That Nice Boy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Wicked Boy

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

One day he slipped away from homeAnd went out for a skateDown on a deep and dangerous pondBeyond the garden gate.

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

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

He was her boy, and all the loveThat fills a mother's heartCame forth in tears and sobs and moansBeyond the strength of art.

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

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

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

And so it was—the mother's tearsWere changed to smiles of joy;But gracious heaven, how she spankedHer darling, fair-haired boy!

L'Envoi

Cooley's Boy

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max Adeler

Three Black Boys Dressed in Sunday Best.

Previous-Index-Next

Jack The Glutton"Do look at those pigs, as they lay in the straw,"Little Richard said to his papa;"They keep eating longer than ever I saw,What nasty fat gluttons they are!""I see they are feasting" his father replied,"They eat a great deal I allow;But let us remember, before we deride,'Tis the nature, my dear, of a sow."But when a great boy, such as you, my dear Dick,Does nothing but eat all dayAnd keeps sucking things till he makes himself sick,What a glutton! indeed, we may say."When plumcake and sugar forever he picks,And sweetmeats, and comfits, and figs;Pray let him get rid of his own nasty tricks,And then he may laugh at the pigs."Tom the Dainty BoyNever be dainty and throw food away;'Tis sinful, as you must have heard many say;Besides, you yourself may require food some day,Though well fed.So don't smell your plate and turn over your food,And doubt if it's wholesome, or pleasant, or good;Such conduct is not only senseless,—but rudeAnd ill-bred.There was a young boy, who so dainty became,That whether his dinner was fish, flesh or game,He turned up his nose at them all, just the same,And would cry,"I cannot eat this,"—and, "I do not like that;"—"This chicken's too lean,"—and "That mutton's too fat;The dog he may eat it up all, or the cat,But not I.The consequence was that he soon became thin;His bones they stuck out, and his cheeks they sunk in,And his hands were not stronger nor thicker than tin,If so strong.And his legs grew as slender as little hat-pegs,And almost as small was his waist as his legs;And he looked like the laths that are fastened round kegs,Thin and long.And thinner, and thinner, and thinner he grew,A shadow had been rather fat, of the two;In fact, you might easily look him right through,If you tried.And when he was quite the skeleton grown,As weak as a reed, and as cold as a stoneHe fell all to pieces, and with a faint groan,So he died.Boy that robbed the Bird's nest"To-whit! To-whit! To-whee!Will you listen to me?Who stole four eggs I laid,And the nice nest I made?""Not I," said the cow. "Oh, no;Such a thing I'd never do;I gave you a wisp of hay,But didn't take your nest away.""Coo, coo! said the dove,I'll speak a word my love;Who stole that pretty nestFrom a little red-breast?""Not I," said the sheep. "Oh, no.I wouldn't treat a poor bird so;I gave wool the nest to line,But the nest was none of mine."Boy Carried Away By Crows.

Jack The Glutton

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

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

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

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

Tom the Dainty Boy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boy that robbed the Bird's nest

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

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

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

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

"Caw! Caw!" cried the crow,"I should like to knowWhat thief took awayA bird's nest to-day.""Cluck! Cluck!" said the hen,Don't ask me again!Why I hav'nt a chickWould do such a trick.We all gave her a feather,And she wove them together;I'd scorn to intrudeOn her and her brood.""Chirr-a-whirr! Chirr-a-whirr!We will make a great stir;Let us find out his name,And all cry for shame!""I would not rob a bird,"Said little Mary Green;"I think I never heardOf anything so mean.""'Tis very cruel too,"Said little Alice Neil:"I wonder if he knewHow sad the bird would feel?"A little boy hung down his head,And hid his face, so crimson red;For he stole that pretty nestFrom little robin redbreast;And he felt so full of shame,I do not like to tell his name.But during next weekDressed in his Sunday bestThis boy set out to seekAll for another nest.He robbed a nest up high,Suspended in a tree;Two birds came through the sky,What happened you can see.Cruel BoyWhat! go to see the kittens drownedOn purpose in the yard!I did not think there could be foundA little heart so hard.Poor kittens! No more pretty playWith pussy's wagging tail:Why! I'd go far enough awayBefore I'd see the pail.Poor things! the little child that canBe pleased to go and see,Most likely, when he grows a man,A cruel man will be.And many a wicked thing he'll doBecause his heart is hard:A great deal worse than killing you,Poor kittens in the yard.Tyrannical PatWhat became of tyrannical Pat,Who pelted the dog, and beat the cat,Why, puss scratched his face and tore his hat;And Dash knocked him over as flat as a mat.Mind that!The little boy who bit his NailsSee here a naughty boy, John Thales,Who had a shocking wayOf picking at his finger nails,And biting them all day.And though he had, like other boys,Both soldiers, kites and drums,He liked, much better than these toys,His fingers and his thumbs.Boy who tore his HatAbove on a chair, a little boy sat,For he had torn his nice new hat;And so was punished for doing that.Thief CharleyCharley, Charley, stole the barleyOut of the baker's shop;The baker came out, and gave him a clout,And made that Charley hop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But during next weekDressed in his Sunday bestThis boy set out to seekAll for another nest.

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

Cruel Boy

What! go to see the kittens drownedOn purpose in the yard!I did not think there could be foundA little heart so hard.

Poor kittens! No more pretty playWith pussy's wagging tail:Why! I'd go far enough awayBefore I'd see the pail.

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

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

Tyrannical Pat

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

The little boy who bit his Nails

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

Boy who tore his Hat

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

Thief Charley

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

Previous-Index-Next

Snooks' Patent Whipping Machine.

Snook's Patent Whipping Machine for Flogging Naughty Boys in School"The Snooks' Whipping Machine has proved a total failure."—"Times."Declaration of a Distracted Schoolmaster.A year a go I took charge of a school of 1000 boys. They were a very bad lot indeed, and I could do nothing with them. Being of a mild disposition, I attempted to reason with them; but I might as well have reasoned with the pigs. I then thought of punishing them, but that was a big task, and, besides, what mode of punishment should I adopt? In my utmost perplexity I wrote to Professor Wilderspin—a great authority on the management of boys—and he wrote as follows:"Nearly all boys can be managed by an intelligent schoolmasterwithout punishment, but in a few cases it seems impossible to dowithout it. In every large school in England, Ireland, and Scotlandsome corporal punishment is used, and some must continue to be usedas long as very vicious children continue to exist, or as long asparents spoil their children by over indulgence or by wilfulcriminal neglect before they send them to school.—Yours truly,Professor Wilderspin."I then wrote to twenty-seven of the principal headmasters in the world, and the following are the replies:—From the High School of Eton wrote head-master, Mr. Squeers:"If they don't behave as they should do, why, soundly box their ears."From the Grammar School of Harrow wrote head-master, Mr. Phfool:"If they do not behave themselves, expel them from the school."From the Training School of Rugby wrote head-master, Mr Wist:"Just take a handful of their hair, and give a sharp, short twist."From the College School of Oxford wrote Professor Rarey Hook:"Instead of nearly killing, overawe them with a look."From the Bible School of Cambridge wrote Professor William Brying:"Well whip them with a birchen rod, and never mind their crying."From the Blue Coat School of London wrote Professor Rupert Gower:"At arm's length make them hold a book the space of half-an-hour."From the Naval School of Liverpool wrote head-master Mr. Jointer:"Just rap them on the knuckles with a common teacher's pointer."From the People's School of Manchester wrote head-master Mr. Flowers:"Make them kneel down as still as death for just about two hours."From the Infant School of Birmingham wrote Professor Dory Heller:"Just put on them a fool's cap, marked 'dunce,' 'thief,' or 'story-teller'."From the Charity school of Sheffield wrote head-master, Mr. Clay:"If the boys are disobedient, do not let them out to play."From the Gentleman's School at Brighton wrote Professor Robert Flask:"If the boys will act unruly, why, just make them do a task."From the National School of Bristol wrote Professor Mark Groom:"If the boys are extra naughty, shut them in a dark room."From the District School of Edenburgh wrote head-master, Mr. Glass:"The naughty boys should all be sent to the bottom of the class."From the Mixed School of Glasgow wrote Professor Duncan Law:"To keep a proper kind of school, just use the three-tailed taw."From the Latin School of Dublin wrote Professor Patrick Clayrence:"If the boys are very bad boys, write a letter to their parents."From the Mission School, Calcutta, wrote the Rev. Mr. Mac Look:"Try them by a boy jury, write the verdict in a black-book."From the Lyceum of New York wrote Professor Henry Bothing:"Take your delinquent boys one hour and make them sit on nothing."From the Public School, Chicago, wrote head-master, Mr. Norrids:"If they will not behave themselves, why, just you slap their foreheads."From, the Academy of San Francisco wrote head-master, Mr. Power:"Make them stoop and hold their fingers on the floor for just an hour."From the Mormon School of Utah wrote Professor Orson Pratt:"First strip and make them fast, and then just use the little cat."From the King's College, Lisbon, wrote Professor Don Cassiers:"If you want to make them good boys, pull, pinch, and twist their ears."From the Cadet's School of Paris wrote Professor Monsieur Sour:"Just make them hold their hands above their heads for one full hour."From the Royal School of Amsterdam wrote Professor Vander Tooler:"If they will not behave themselves, just trounce them with a ruler."From the Model School of Pekin wrote Professor Cha Han Coo:"Just put their hands into the stocks and beat with a bamboo."From the Normal School of Moscow wrote Professor Ivan Troute:"To make your boys the best of boys, why, just use the knout."From the Muslim School of Cairo wrote the Mufti, Pasha Saido:"Upon the bare soles of their feet give them the bastinado."From the Common School of Berlin wrote Professor Von de Rind:"There's nothing like the old, old way that ever could I find;Just lay them right across your knee and cane them well behind.I've only just been speaking mit mine goot frien', Doctor Whistim,And he says that it does no harm, but is felt throughout the system."At last, as I was thinking deep how puzzling all this looks,I received a tempting offer from a certain Mr. Snooks.His "great machine to whip with speed" I brought with flusteration,But to see just how it did succeed you view the illustration.And then look at "Professor Cole's Gentle Persuader." next page.

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

Declaration of a Distracted Schoolmaster.

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

"Nearly all boys can be managed by an intelligent schoolmasterwithout punishment, but in a few cases it seems impossible to dowithout it. In every large school in England, Ireland, and Scotlandsome corporal punishment is used, and some must continue to be usedas long as very vicious children continue to exist, or as long asparents spoil their children by over indulgence or by wilfulcriminal neglect before they send them to school.—Yours truly,Professor Wilderspin."

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

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

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

Previous-Index-Next

Cole's Patent Whipping Machine.

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

Testimonial from a Schoolmaster(To Mr. Cole, Book Arcade, Melbourne)SIR—Your Patent Flogger is a "keen"Success as a labor-saving machine;'Twill yet be held in great esteem,Already 'tis the Poet's theme;It's the greatest patent that's ever beenIn or out of a schoolroom seen;And as you have got it to go by steam,School-life will now be all serene.

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

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

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

John Hawking, for talkingWilliam Winning, for grinningGeorge Highing, for cryingEdward Daring, for swearingHenry Wheeling, for stealingPeter Bitting, for spittingRobert Hocking, for smokingFrederick Mention, for inattentionJoseph Footing, for pea-shootingLuke Jones, for throwing stonesMatthew Sauter, for squirting waterNicholas Storms, for upsetting formsReuben Wrens, for spoiling pensSamuel Jinks, for spilling inkSimon McLeod, for laughing aloudTimothy Stacies, for making facesVictor Bloomers, for taking lunarsVincent James, for calling namesCaleb Hales, for telling talesDaniel Padley, for writing badlyDavid Jessons, for cribbing lessonsEdmond Gate, for coming lateEzra Lopen, for leaving the door openEdwin Druent, for playing the truantCharles Case, for leaving his placeErnest Jewell, for eating during schoolCoo Ah Hi, for using a shanghaiFrancis Berindo, for breaking a windowHarold Tate, for breaking his slateIsaac Joys, for making noiseJacob Crook, for tearing his bookChristopher Moyes, for teasing other boysElisha Sewell, for bolting from schoolConrad Draper, for throwing chewed paperEbenezer Good, for telling a falsehoodFelix Snooks, for coming without booksCyril Froude, for speaking too loudElijah Rowe, for speaking too lowGregory Meek, for refusing to speakHannibal Hartz, for throwing paper dartsHorace Poole, for whistling in schoolHubert Shore, for slamming the doorJesse Blane, for hiding the caneJonah Platts, for hiding boys' hatsAaron Esk, for cutting the deskAbner Rule, for sleeping in schoolAdam Street, for changing his seatAlbert Mayne, for splitting the teacher's caneAlexander Tressons, for reading during other lessonsAlfred Hoole, for eating lollies in schoolAmbrose Hooke, for blotting his copy-bookAmos Blair, for not combing his hairAndrew Grace, for not washing his faceAnthony Sands, for not washing his handsArnold Cootz, for coming in with dirty bootsBenjamin Guess, for coming with untidy dressClarence Hyneman, for annoying a stray ChinamanMichael McToole, for bringing stones to schoolCuthbert Flindow, for climbing through the windowEdgar Gasking, for going without askingEric Grout, for kicking boys' hats aboutEnoch McKay, for pinching the next boyGabriel Cook, for tearing a boy's bookHyram Pope, for pulling the bell ropeHumphrey Proof, for getting on the roofJonah Earls, for chasing school-girlsJonathan Spence, for climbing over the fencePhillip Cannister, for sliding down the bannisterLambert Hesk, for sliding on a deskLawrence Storm, for standing on a formLazarus Beet, for stamping with his feetLeopold Bate, for swinging on the gateLewis Lesks, for kicking legs of desksMark Vine, for overstepping the toe-lineNathan Corder, for not marching in orderNorman Hall, for scribbling on the wallJames Mace, for hitting a boy in the faceThomas Sayers, for pushing boys down the stairsOswald Hook, for losing a school-bookRalph Chesson, for not knowing his lessonSampson Skinner, for eating another boy's dinnerSolomon Brook, for scribbling in his bookStephen Platt, for chasing the master's catNeal M'Kimney, dropping a brick down the chimneyTheodore Le Soof, for throwing stones on the roofValentine Rapp, for turning on the water-tapWalter Hope, for climbing up the bell-ropeJoshua Gail, for catching flies on the wallRaymond Esk, for sticking pins in the deskJulian State, for drawing pictures on his slateGerald Astor, for being impudent to the masterAugustus Roff, for not taking his hat offRupert Keats, for fixing pens in boys' seatsMaurice Took, for having a dirty copybookEsau Klaster, for drawing caricatures of the masterPaul Bhool, for letting a bird loose in schoolJabez Breeding, for not knowing the place at readingLevi Stout, for stopping too long when let outGuy M'Gill, sharpening a knife on the window-sillDuncan Heather, pinning two boys' coat-tails togetherEzekiel Black, pinning paper on another boy's backPatrick O'Toole, for bursting a paper-bag in schoolEli Teet, for putting cobbler's wax on master's seat

Previous-Index-Next

Girl Showing Dolly to Polly.

My Lady DollMy Lady-doll is pretty,My Lady-doll is sweet;I like to show my Lady-dollTo every one I meetMy Sweet Dolly RoseO sweet, so sweet,Is my Dolly Rose!Just all that I knowMy Dolly knows;And when I am gladThe darling is gladAnd when I am sadThe darling is sad.How dear she is,O, nobody knows,No, no, not evenMy precious RosePolly's DollyShining eyes, very blue,Opened very wide;Yellow curls, very stiff,Hanging side by side;Chubby cheeks, very pink,Lips red as holly;No ears, and only thumbs—That's Polly's Dolly.Pretty DollOh dear! what a beautiful dollMy sister has bought at the fairShe says I must call it Miss Poll,And make it a bonnet to wear.Oh pretty new doll, it looks fine!It's cheeks are all covered with red.But pray will it always be mine?And please may I take it to bed?How kind was my sister to buyThis dolly with hair that will curl;Perhaps, if you want to know why,It's because I've been a good girl.POEMS FOR CHILDRENPuss with Doll.

My Lady Doll

My Lady-doll is pretty,My Lady-doll is sweet;I like to show my Lady-dollTo every one I meet

My Sweet Dolly Rose

O sweet, so sweet,Is my Dolly Rose!Just all that I knowMy Dolly knows;And when I am gladThe darling is gladAnd when I am sadThe darling is sad.How dear she is,O, nobody knows,No, no, not evenMy precious Rose

Polly's Dolly

Shining eyes, very blue,Opened very wide;Yellow curls, very stiff,Hanging side by side;Chubby cheeks, very pink,Lips red as holly;No ears, and only thumbs—That's Polly's Dolly.

Pretty Doll

Oh dear! what a beautiful dollMy sister has bought at the fairShe says I must call it Miss Poll,And make it a bonnet to wear.

Oh pretty new doll, it looks fine!It's cheeks are all covered with red.But pray will it always be mine?And please may I take it to bed?

How kind was my sister to buyThis dolly with hair that will curl;Perhaps, if you want to know why,It's because I've been a good girl.

POEMS FOR CHILDREN

Puss's DollNow Puss had a dollThat Dame Trot bought to please her,And gave it the beautifulName of LouisaAnd when Kitty was lonesomeOr wanted to play,She'd cry for Loo! Loo!In a comical way.The dolly was petted,Was kissed and caressed,Though often quite roughlyIt must be confessedAnd so pleased was Miss PussWith Louisa's fair charms,She took her cat's meat,With the doll in her armsPussy and Doggy Fighting for Dolly.

Puss's Doll

Now Puss had a dollThat Dame Trot bought to please her,And gave it the beautifulName of LouisaAnd when Kitty was lonesomeOr wanted to play,She'd cry for Loo! Loo!In a comical way.

The dolly was petted,Was kissed and caressed,Though often quite roughlyIt must be confessedAnd so pleased was Miss PussWith Louisa's fair charms,She took her cat's meat,With the doll in her arms

Pussy and Doggy Fighting for DollyAnd once, I remember,Oh, sad was the day,The cat answered backIn an impudent way.And tray was so jealous,The two had a fight,And between them the dollWas a terrible fright

Pussy and Doggy Fighting for Dolly

And once, I remember,Oh, sad was the day,The cat answered backIn an impudent way.And tray was so jealous,The two had a fight,And between them the dollWas a terrible fright

Previous-Index-Next

Dolly Tumbled out of Bed.

Dolly Tumbled out of Bed'Tis very well to smile—now,But you gave me such a fright,When I missed you, darling Dolly,In the middle of the night.I thought we played together,And you fell into a stream;Yet I said—just half awaking—"'Tis nothing but a dream."For safe upon my pillowLies her curly golden hair,"Then I reached my hand to touch you,But I couldn't find you there.I felt so sad and lonelyThat I cried, but all in vain;So to see if I could find you,I went off to sleep again.Now, fancy! in the morningThere you were, all safe and right;And nurse said, "Here's poor Dolly,Been upon the floor all night!"Your pretty curls are tangled,They were so nice and smooth before;So promise, Dolly darling,You will tumble out no more!Dolly and II love my dear dolly;I'll tell you her name,I called her "Sweet Polly"The day that she came.My Uncle John brought herFrom over the sea;And no one shall part us,My dolly and me.She has cheeks like red roses,And eyes blue and bright,That open with daylight,And close with the night.She cries, and says, "Mam-ma,Mam-mam-ma," so well,That it is not a babyYou scarcely can tell.You know, I'm her own ma;A small one, you'll say,But just right for dolly,Who wants nought but play.No teaching, no training,Few clothes and no food;And I like being her ma,Because she's so good.Dolly's Broken ArmMamma, do send for Doctor Man,And tell him to be quick,My dolly fell and broke her arm,So she is very sick.I thought that she was fast asleep,And laid her on her bed,But down she dropped upon the floor;O dear! she's almost dead!Poor dolly! she was just as brave,And did not cry at all;Do you suppose she ever canGet over such a fall?But when the doctor mends her arm,And wraps it up so tight,Then I will be her little nurse,And watch her all the night.And if she only will get well,And does not lose her arm,I'll never let her fall again,Nor suffer any harm.Little PollyLittle Polly,Had a dolly,With a curly wig;And Miss PollyAnd her dolly,Often danced a jig.Also Pollyhad a collie,A fine dog was he;Blithe and jolly,Jumped round Polly,Barking loud with glee.One day PollyKnocked her dolly,Broke its pretty head."Oh, fie, Polly!Don't hurt dolly,"Said her brother Ned.Then did PollyTake up Dolly,Throw it on the floor.Said Miss Polly,In her folly"I will play no more."Up ran collie,Seized poor dolly,Ran off to a friend.Friend helped collieTo tear up dolly—That was poor dolly's end.Reading Dolly Land.

Dolly Tumbled out of Bed

'Tis very well to smile—now,But you gave me such a fright,When I missed you, darling Dolly,In the middle of the night.

I thought we played together,And you fell into a stream;Yet I said—just half awaking—"'Tis nothing but a dream.

"For safe upon my pillowLies her curly golden hair,"Then I reached my hand to touch you,But I couldn't find you there.

I felt so sad and lonelyThat I cried, but all in vain;So to see if I could find you,I went off to sleep again.

Now, fancy! in the morningThere you were, all safe and right;And nurse said, "Here's poor Dolly,Been upon the floor all night!"

Your pretty curls are tangled,They were so nice and smooth before;So promise, Dolly darling,You will tumble out no more!

Dolly and I

I love my dear dolly;I'll tell you her name,I called her "Sweet Polly"The day that she came.

My Uncle John brought herFrom over the sea;And no one shall part us,My dolly and me.

She has cheeks like red roses,And eyes blue and bright,That open with daylight,And close with the night.

She cries, and says, "Mam-ma,Mam-mam-ma," so well,That it is not a babyYou scarcely can tell.

You know, I'm her own ma;A small one, you'll say,But just right for dolly,Who wants nought but play.

No teaching, no training,Few clothes and no food;And I like being her ma,Because she's so good.

Dolly's Broken Arm

Mamma, do send for Doctor Man,And tell him to be quick,My dolly fell and broke her arm,So she is very sick.

I thought that she was fast asleep,And laid her on her bed,But down she dropped upon the floor;O dear! she's almost dead!

Poor dolly! she was just as brave,And did not cry at all;Do you suppose she ever canGet over such a fall?

But when the doctor mends her arm,And wraps it up so tight,Then I will be her little nurse,And watch her all the night.

And if she only will get well,And does not lose her arm,I'll never let her fall again,Nor suffer any harm.

Little Polly

Little Polly,Had a dolly,With a curly wig;And Miss PollyAnd her dolly,Often danced a jig.

Also Pollyhad a collie,A fine dog was he;Blithe and jolly,Jumped round Polly,Barking loud with glee.

One day PollyKnocked her dolly,Broke its pretty head."Oh, fie, Polly!Don't hurt dolly,"Said her brother Ned.

Then did PollyTake up Dolly,Throw it on the floor.Said Miss Polly,In her folly"I will play no more."

Up ran collie,Seized poor dolly,Ran off to a friend.Friend helped collieTo tear up dolly—That was poor dolly's end.

Two Dollies Getting Up.

Previous-Index-Next

Girl with Dolly.

A Little Girl's Song to Her DollyLie down, little Dolly.Lie still on my lap,It's time now to put onYour night dress and cap;You have not been to sleepAll through this long dayOh, what a long timeFor a Dolly to play!The bright sun went downMore than two hours ago;It is long past your bedtime,You very well know:The stars are now peepingFrom out the blue skies;Then go to sleep, Dolly!Come, shut your blue eyes.Mamma says the flowersWere asleep long ago—Sweet roses and lilies,Their heads bending low;She says 'tis a lessonFor me and for you—That children and dolliesShould be asleep too.Hark! Susan is calling—Now out goes the light;I will tug you up snugly,And kiss you good night.It is time you were sleepingFor do you not knowThe dear little birdsWent to sleep long ago?Don't Cry My DollyHushy, baby, my dolly,I pray you don't cry,And I'll give you some breadAnd some milk by and by;Or perhaps you like custard,Or maybe a tart,—Then to either you're welcome,With all my whole heart.The Little Girl and Her DollThere, got to sleep, Dolly,In own mother's lap,I've put on your nightgownAnd neat little cap.So sleep, pretty baby,And shut up your eye,Bye-bye, little Dolly,Lie still, and bye-bye.I'll lay my clean handkerchiefOver your head,And then make believeThat my lap is your bed;So hush, little dear,And be sure you don't cry.Bye-bye, little Dolly,Lie still, and bye-bye.There, now it is morningAnd time to get up,And I'll give you some milkIn my doll's china cup.So wake up, little babyAnd open your eye,For I think it high timeTo have done with bye-bye.Jane TaylorSleep, Dolly SleepSleep, Dolly, sleep.You must not, must not weep.Now close your eyes so brown,And let me lay you down.Sleep, Dolly, sleep.Wake, Dolly, wake,Too long a nap you take;It's time to make the tea,And you must help, you see.Wake, Dolly, wake.Run, Dolly, run,Run out in golden sun;Run up the hill with me,And then to the apple-tree.Run, Dolly, run.Mrs HibbertMy DollyShut your eyes, my darling!When the shadows creep,When the flowers are closingLittle ones must sleep.Don't be frightened, Dolly!In my arms you lie;Nestle down and slumberTo my lullabyDolly is so active,Always full of fun,Wakeful still and smilingE'en when day is doneHush thee now, my dearest,To my slumber-song;Children lose their roses,Sitting up too long.My DollyI must go home to dolly,And put her to bed;I know she's so tired,She can't raise her head.Some dolls are so old,They can sit up till eight,But mine gets quite illIf she stays up so late!Dolly's AsleepTell me a storyJust one, mother dear.Candles are comingBedtime is nearThere is my hand to holdBend down your head,Don't speak too loud, mother,Dolly's in bedNo! not the storyOf old Jack and JillThey were so stupidTo tumble down the hill.I'm tired of Jack HornerAnd Little Bo-peep.—Stay! let me seeIf Dolly's asleep.Hush, Dolly darling!I'm watching, you knowNo one shall hurt you;I will not go.You are so warm,—Like a bird in it's nest.Go to sleep, darling,—Rest, Dolly, rest.Ah! there is MaryJust come in with a light:Now there is no timeFor a story to-night,Please make the boys, mother,Mind how they tread.Their boots are so heavy,And—Dolly's in bed.Good night, dear mother!Ask papa, please,When he comes home,Not to cough or to sneezeGive me your hand, MaryHush! softly creep;We must not wake her,—Dolly's asleep.If at all restlessOr wakeful she seems,Don't be to anxious;I fancy she dreams.Say to her softly,Just shaking your head;"Go to sleep, Dolly,—Adie's in bed."HUSH! (Dolls are sleeping.)

A Little Girl's Song to Her Dolly

Lie down, little Dolly.Lie still on my lap,It's time now to put onYour night dress and cap;You have not been to sleepAll through this long dayOh, what a long timeFor a Dolly to play!

The bright sun went downMore than two hours ago;It is long past your bedtime,You very well know:The stars are now peepingFrom out the blue skies;Then go to sleep, Dolly!Come, shut your blue eyes.

Mamma says the flowersWere asleep long ago—Sweet roses and lilies,Their heads bending low;She says 'tis a lessonFor me and for you—That children and dolliesShould be asleep too.

Hark! Susan is calling—Now out goes the light;I will tug you up snugly,And kiss you good night.It is time you were sleepingFor do you not knowThe dear little birdsWent to sleep long ago?

Don't Cry My Dolly

Hushy, baby, my dolly,I pray you don't cry,And I'll give you some breadAnd some milk by and by;Or perhaps you like custard,Or maybe a tart,—Then to either you're welcome,With all my whole heart.

The Little Girl and Her Doll

There, got to sleep, Dolly,In own mother's lap,I've put on your nightgownAnd neat little cap.So sleep, pretty baby,And shut up your eye,Bye-bye, little Dolly,Lie still, and bye-bye.I'll lay my clean handkerchiefOver your head,And then make believeThat my lap is your bed;So hush, little dear,And be sure you don't cry.Bye-bye, little Dolly,Lie still, and bye-bye.

There, now it is morningAnd time to get up,And I'll give you some milkIn my doll's china cup.So wake up, little babyAnd open your eye,For I think it high timeTo have done with bye-bye.

Jane Taylor

Sleep, Dolly Sleep

Sleep, Dolly, sleep.You must not, must not weep.Now close your eyes so brown,And let me lay you down.Sleep, Dolly, sleep.Wake, Dolly, wake,Too long a nap you take;It's time to make the tea,And you must help, you see.Wake, Dolly, wake.Run, Dolly, run,Run out in golden sun;Run up the hill with me,And then to the apple-tree.Run, Dolly, run.

Mrs Hibbert

My Dolly

Shut your eyes, my darling!When the shadows creep,When the flowers are closingLittle ones must sleep.

Don't be frightened, Dolly!In my arms you lie;Nestle down and slumberTo my lullaby

Dolly is so active,Always full of fun,Wakeful still and smilingE'en when day is done

Hush thee now, my dearest,To my slumber-song;Children lose their roses,Sitting up too long.

My Dolly

I must go home to dolly,And put her to bed;I know she's so tired,She can't raise her head.

Some dolls are so old,They can sit up till eight,But mine gets quite illIf she stays up so late!

Dolly's Asleep

Tell me a storyJust one, mother dear.Candles are comingBedtime is nearThere is my hand to holdBend down your head,Don't speak too loud, mother,Dolly's in bed

No! not the storyOf old Jack and JillThey were so stupidTo tumble down the hill.I'm tired of Jack HornerAnd Little Bo-peep.—Stay! let me seeIf Dolly's asleep.

Hush, Dolly darling!I'm watching, you knowNo one shall hurt you;I will not go.You are so warm,—Like a bird in it's nest.Go to sleep, darling,—Rest, Dolly, rest.

Ah! there is MaryJust come in with a light:Now there is no timeFor a story to-night,Please make the boys, mother,Mind how they tread.Their boots are so heavy,And—Dolly's in bed.

Good night, dear mother!Ask papa, please,When he comes home,Not to cough or to sneezeGive me your hand, MaryHush! softly creep;We must not wake her,—Dolly's asleep.

If at all restlessOr wakeful she seems,Don't be to anxious;I fancy she dreams.Say to her softly,Just shaking your head;"Go to sleep, Dolly,—Adie's in bed."

Previous-Index-Next

Girl with Doll.

Lost DollyThe sunflowers hang their heavy headsAnd wish the sun would shine;The clouds are grey; the wind is cold."Where is that doll of mine?The dark is coming fast," said she."I'm in a dreadful fright.I don't know where I left my doll,And she'll be out all night"Twice up and down the garden-walksI looked; but she's not there,Oh! yes, I've hunted in the hay;I've hunted everywhere.I must have left her out of doors,But she is not in sight.No Dolly in the summer-house,And she'll be out all night."The dew will wet her through and throughAnd spoil her dear best dress;And she will wonder where I amAnd be in such distress;The dogs may find her in the grass,And bark or even bite;And all the bats will frighten herThat fly about at night."I've not been down into the woodsOr by the brook to-day.I'm sure I had her in my armsWhen I came out to play,Just after dinner; then I know,I watched Tom make his kite.Will anybody steal my dollIf she stays out all night."I wonder where Papa has gone?Why, here he comes; and seeHe's bringing something in his hand;That's Dolly certainly!And so you found her in the chaise,And brought her home all right?I'll take her to the baby-house.I'm glad she's home tonight."Sarah O. JewettTalking To DollyWell, Dolly, what are you saying,When you blink and wink your eyes?I'm sure your thoughts are straying,For you look so very wise.I wonder what you think about,And why you never talk,And how it is you never shout,And never try to walk!I wonder if you're ever sad,And if you ever weep;I wonder if you're ever gladWhen I rock you off to sleep.I wonder if you love me well—As well as I love you.I do so wish you'd try and tell;Come, Dolly, darling, do!Darling DollyDarling Dolly's house shall beHigh as lofty apple-tree;It shall have a door inlaid,Of the sweetest light and shade.It shall have for pictures fairFancies that are rich and rare;It shall have a golden roof,And tapestry with stars for woof.And it shall have a dome of blueWith the moonlight streaming through,And stately pillars, straight as firs,Bending to each wind that stirs.Darling Dolly's house shall beHigh as a lofty apple-tree;It shall have a door inlaid,Of the sweetest light and shade.Girl Showing Doll to Another Girl.

Lost Dolly

The sunflowers hang their heavy headsAnd wish the sun would shine;The clouds are grey; the wind is cold."Where is that doll of mine?The dark is coming fast," said she."I'm in a dreadful fright.I don't know where I left my doll,And she'll be out all night

"Twice up and down the garden-walksI looked; but she's not there,Oh! yes, I've hunted in the hay;I've hunted everywhere.I must have left her out of doors,But she is not in sight.No Dolly in the summer-house,And she'll be out all night.

"The dew will wet her through and throughAnd spoil her dear best dress;And she will wonder where I amAnd be in such distress;The dogs may find her in the grass,And bark or even bite;And all the bats will frighten herThat fly about at night.

"I've not been down into the woodsOr by the brook to-day.I'm sure I had her in my armsWhen I came out to play,Just after dinner; then I know,I watched Tom make his kite.Will anybody steal my dollIf she stays out all night.

"I wonder where Papa has gone?Why, here he comes; and seeHe's bringing something in his hand;That's Dolly certainly!And so you found her in the chaise,And brought her home all right?I'll take her to the baby-house.I'm glad she's home tonight."

Sarah O. Jewett

Talking To Dolly

Well, Dolly, what are you saying,When you blink and wink your eyes?I'm sure your thoughts are straying,For you look so very wise.

I wonder what you think about,And why you never talk,And how it is you never shout,And never try to walk!

I wonder if you're ever sad,And if you ever weep;I wonder if you're ever gladWhen I rock you off to sleep.

I wonder if you love me well—As well as I love you.I do so wish you'd try and tell;Come, Dolly, darling, do!

Darling Dolly

Darling Dolly's house shall beHigh as lofty apple-tree;It shall have a door inlaid,Of the sweetest light and shade.

It shall have for pictures fairFancies that are rich and rare;It shall have a golden roof,And tapestry with stars for woof.

And it shall have a dome of blueWith the moonlight streaming through,And stately pillars, straight as firs,Bending to each wind that stirs.

Darling Dolly's house shall beHigh as a lofty apple-tree;It shall have a door inlaid,Of the sweetest light and shade.

Sour Grapes"Such a doll! I wouldn't have it,With its trailing baby dress!Pooh! a dolly twice as handsomeI could have for asking, Bess.Needn't ask me if it's pretty,No, I do not care to wait,I am in an awful hurry,If you keep me, I'll be late."Off went Nannie, proud lip curling,Head uplifted in disdain,Bessie hugged her dolly closely,Laughing over truth so plain."Nan was envious, Dolly darling,'Twasn't aught of wrong in you,But the trouble lay in Nannie,She would like to own you too."My Dolly House.

Sour Grapes

"Such a doll! I wouldn't have it,With its trailing baby dress!Pooh! a dolly twice as handsomeI could have for asking, Bess.Needn't ask me if it's pretty,No, I do not care to wait,I am in an awful hurry,If you keep me, I'll be late."

Off went Nannie, proud lip curling,Head uplifted in disdain,Bessie hugged her dolly closely,Laughing over truth so plain."Nan was envious, Dolly darling,'Twasn't aught of wrong in you,But the trouble lay in Nannie,She would like to own you too."

Previous-Index-Next

Oh, you Naughty Dog to Bite my Dolly.

Boo! Boo! Boo! He has Swallowed my Dolly.

Ten Little DolliesTen little dolliesStanding in a line,One tumbled down,And then there were nine.Nine little dolliesSitting up so late,One went to sleepThen there were eight.Eight little dollies—All their ages even,One grew up tallAnd then there were seven.Seven little dollies,Full of funny tricks,One snapt her head offThen there were six.Six little dollies—Looked almost alive,One lost her "pin-back,"Then there were five.Five little dollies,Walking by a door,One got her nose pinched,Then there were four.Four little dolliesOn their mamma's knee,One cried her eyes out,Then there were three.Three little dollies,Didn't know what to do,One tore her bows off,Then there were two.Two little dollies,Very fond of fun,One melts her nose off,Then there was one.One little dolly,Living all alone,Died broken-hearted,Then there were none.Teaching Dolly ABC.

Ten Little Dollies

Ten little dolliesStanding in a line,One tumbled down,And then there were nine.

Nine little dolliesSitting up so late,One went to sleepThen there were eight.

Eight little dollies—All their ages even,One grew up tallAnd then there were seven.

Seven little dollies,Full of funny tricks,One snapt her head offThen there were six.

Six little dollies—Looked almost alive,One lost her "pin-back,"Then there were five.

Five little dollies,Walking by a door,One got her nose pinched,Then there were four.

Four little dolliesOn their mamma's knee,One cried her eyes out,Then there were three.

Three little dollies,Didn't know what to do,One tore her bows off,Then there were two.

Two little dollies,Very fond of fun,One melts her nose off,Then there was one.

One little dolly,Living all alone,Died broken-hearted,Then there were none.

Kissing after a Doll Quarrel.

Previous-Index-Next

Washing Dolly's Clothes.

My WeekOn Monday I wash my dollies' clothes,On Tuesday smoothly press 'em,On Wednesday mend their little hose,On Thursday neatly dress 'em.On Friday I play they're taken ill,On Saturday something or other;But when Sunday comes, I say, "Lie still,I'm going to church with mother."Giving Dolly a Bath.

My Week

On Monday I wash my dollies' clothes,On Tuesday smoothly press 'em,On Wednesday mend their little hose,On Thursday neatly dress 'em.

On Friday I play they're taken ill,On Saturday something or other;But when Sunday comes, I say, "Lie still,I'm going to church with mother."

Dirty DollyNaughty Miss Dolly played out in the mud,And got all her clothes quite black;And now such a rubbing, and scrubbing and tubbingAs we have to give them, good lack!'Tis hard to be mothers and laundresses too,And nurses and cooks beside.Grown people don't know all we chicks have to do,For how can they tell till they've tried?Washing Day TroublesI know a little girl who tried,To wash her dolly's clothes, one day,In Bridget's great, big tub, and criedBecause mamma sent her awayTo find her own small dolly-tub,More fit for little girls to use.But naughty Sally shook her headAnd all suggestions did refuse.And when she found herself alone,She went to Bridget's tub again,But, as is sure to be the case,Her disobedience brought her pain.For, what do you think? she tumbled in,And gave herself an awful fright,And no one pitied her; in fact,They all laughed at her in her plight.Washing DollyMiss Mary standing at the tubGiving dolly a thorough scrub.Trying to make her nice and sweetBefore she dresses for the street.If health an happiness you'd gleanRemember always to keep clean.Doll Rosy's Bath'Tis time Doll Rosy had a bath,And she'll be good, I hope;She likes the water well enough,But she doesn't like the soap.Now soft I'll rub her with a sponge,Her eyes and nose and ears,And splash her fingers in the bowlAnd never mind the tears.There now—oh, my! what have I done?I've washed the skin off—see!Her pretty pink and white are goneEntirely! oh, dear me!

Dirty Dolly

Naughty Miss Dolly played out in the mud,And got all her clothes quite black;And now such a rubbing, and scrubbing and tubbingAs we have to give them, good lack!

'Tis hard to be mothers and laundresses too,And nurses and cooks beside.Grown people don't know all we chicks have to do,For how can they tell till they've tried?

Washing Day Troubles

I know a little girl who tried,To wash her dolly's clothes, one day,In Bridget's great, big tub, and criedBecause mamma sent her away

To find her own small dolly-tub,More fit for little girls to use.But naughty Sally shook her headAnd all suggestions did refuse.

And when she found herself alone,She went to Bridget's tub again,But, as is sure to be the case,Her disobedience brought her pain.

For, what do you think? she tumbled in,And gave herself an awful fright,And no one pitied her; in fact,They all laughed at her in her plight.

Washing Dolly

Miss Mary standing at the tubGiving dolly a thorough scrub.Trying to make her nice and sweetBefore she dresses for the street.If health an happiness you'd gleanRemember always to keep clean.

Doll Rosy's Bath

'Tis time Doll Rosy had a bath,And she'll be good, I hope;She likes the water well enough,But she doesn't like the soap.

Now soft I'll rub her with a sponge,Her eyes and nose and ears,And splash her fingers in the bowlAnd never mind the tears.

There now—oh, my! what have I done?I've washed the skin off—see!Her pretty pink and white are goneEntirely! oh, dear me!

The New Tea-ThingsCome, Dolly, come quick,For I want you to seeThe present mammaHas just given to me;A set of new tea-thingsThat really hold tea.A dear little teapotTo keep the tea hot,And tiny white cupsWith a pretty blue spot,And a glass sugar-basin.How nice, is it not?And I am to use themThis same afternoon;So Dolly I'll give youSome tea very soonIn a little white cup,With a saucer and spoon.Tea With Dolls.

The New Tea-Things

Come, Dolly, come quick,For I want you to seeThe present mammaHas just given to me;A set of new tea-thingsThat really hold tea.

A dear little teapotTo keep the tea hot,And tiny white cupsWith a pretty blue spot,And a glass sugar-basin.How nice, is it not?

And I am to use themThis same afternoon;So Dolly I'll give youSome tea very soonIn a little white cup,With a saucer and spoon.

Previous-Index-Next

Sewing Doll Clothes.

Doll Dress-makingMaking Dolly's dresses,Don't you think it's fun?Here is one already,That I've just begunOh, how many stitches!And such a tangly thread!When I pricked my fingerI just guess it bledThere! the needle's broken—Bending all about—That's a sign my dolly'llWear the dresses outYouth's CompanionDolly TownHave you ever been down to Dolly Town?The sight would do you goodThere the dollies walk,And the dollies talk,And they ride aboutIn a grand turn-out,With a coachman thinWho is made of tin,And a footman made of woodThere are very fine houses in Dolly Town,Red, and green and blue;And a doctor, too,Who has much to do,Just to mend their toesAnd their arms and nose,When they tumble downAnd crack their crownAnd the stuff they take is glueBut the finest sight in Dolly TownThat place to children dear—Is no dolly at all,Though so neat and smallIf you've time to spare,Go on tiptoe there,See the pretty girl, the rose, the pearl,Who is Queen of Dolly TownMy Little Doll RoseI have a little doll,I take care of her clothesShe has soft flaxen hair,And her name is RoseShe has pretty blue eyes,And a very small nose,And a cunning little mouth,And her name is RoseI have a little sofaWhere my dolly may repose,Or sit up like a lady;And her name is RoseMy doll can move her arms,And can stand upon her toes,She can make a pretty curtseyMy dear little RoseHow old is your dolly?Very young I suppose,For she cannot go alone,My pretty little RoseIndeed I cannot tellIn poetry or proseHow beautiful she is,My darling little Rose.E. FollenSewing For DollySuch a busy little mother!Such a pretty little "child"!Did you ever see a dollyWith a face more sweet and mild?Such a comfort to her mother,Who is busy all the day,And who never finds a momentWith her little girl to playThere are dresses to be altered,There are aprons to be made,"For my child in wardrobe mattersMust not be thrown in shade"Says the busy little mother,As she clips and works away,And a brand new dress for DollyWill be made this very dayThe Lost DollI once had a sweet little doll, dears,The prettiest doll in the world;Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,And her hair was so charmingly curled.But I lost my poor little doll, dears,As I played in the heath one day;I cried for her more than a week, dears,But I could never find where she lay.Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,For her paint is all washed away,And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears,And her hair is not the least bit curled;Yet for old sake's sake she is still, dears,The prettiest doll in the world.Charles KingsleyDolly's Patchwork CounterpaneOh, Mary, see what the nurse has found,Such store of pieces in my box!Some green, and some with lilac ground.They'll make such lovely blocksShe says she'll teach me how to makeA counterpane for Dolly's bed,This lovely piece I first will take,With sprays of roses white and redAnd thin this piece with purple spotsWill look so pretty next to that!I'll keep my cotton free from knots,And make my stitches neat and flatAnd "when I've finished it," she saysShe'll line it with a square of white.Oh, Dolly dear! your little bedWill be a most enchanting sight!The Wooden DollI'm but a wooden doll,Have neither wit nor grace;And very clumsy in my jointsAnd yet I know my place.Most people laugh at a wooden doll,And wooden I may be,But little children love me muchAnd that's enough for me.When I am dressed in fine long clothes,In fur, and silk, and lace,I think myself I'm not so badAnd yet I know my place.Let people laugh—I know I'm wood:Wax I can never be;But little children think I'm grand—That's quite enough for me.Buy My DollsCome buy my dolls, my pretty dolls:Come buy my dolls, I pray:I've such a heap,And I sell so cheap,I almost give them away.I've waxen dolls, and china dolls,And dollies made of gum,Some are small,And some are tall,Some talk and some are dumb.Bald head dolls, and dolls with hair,All beauties in their way—So very nice,So low in price,Please buy my dolls to-day.Laughing dolls, and crying dolls;Dolls of various ages,Infant dolls,And lady dolls,Dolls in all the stages.Go where you may, you will not findSuch bargains as are theseMake my heart light,Buy them to night,To grace your Christmas trees.Finishing Dolls.

Doll Dress-making

Making Dolly's dresses,Don't you think it's fun?Here is one already,That I've just begun

Oh, how many stitches!And such a tangly thread!When I pricked my fingerI just guess it bled

There! the needle's broken—Bending all about—That's a sign my dolly'llWear the dresses out

Youth's Companion

Dolly Town

Have you ever been down to Dolly Town?The sight would do you goodThere the dollies walk,And the dollies talk,And they ride aboutIn a grand turn-out,With a coachman thinWho is made of tin,And a footman made of wood

There are very fine houses in Dolly Town,Red, and green and blue;And a doctor, too,Who has much to do,Just to mend their toesAnd their arms and nose,When they tumble downAnd crack their crownAnd the stuff they take is glue

But the finest sight in Dolly TownThat place to children dear—Is no dolly at all,Though so neat and smallIf you've time to spare,Go on tiptoe there,See the pretty girl, the rose, the pearl,Who is Queen of Dolly Town

My Little Doll Rose

I have a little doll,I take care of her clothesShe has soft flaxen hair,And her name is Rose

She has pretty blue eyes,And a very small nose,And a cunning little mouth,And her name is Rose

I have a little sofaWhere my dolly may repose,Or sit up like a lady;And her name is Rose

My doll can move her arms,And can stand upon her toes,She can make a pretty curtseyMy dear little Rose

How old is your dolly?Very young I suppose,For she cannot go alone,My pretty little Rose

Indeed I cannot tellIn poetry or proseHow beautiful she is,My darling little Rose.

E. Follen

Sewing For Dolly

Such a busy little mother!Such a pretty little "child"!Did you ever see a dollyWith a face more sweet and mild?

Such a comfort to her mother,Who is busy all the day,And who never finds a momentWith her little girl to play

There are dresses to be altered,There are aprons to be made,"For my child in wardrobe mattersMust not be thrown in shade"

Says the busy little mother,As she clips and works away,And a brand new dress for DollyWill be made this very day

The Lost Doll

I once had a sweet little doll, dears,The prettiest doll in the world;Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,And her hair was so charmingly curled.

But I lost my poor little doll, dears,As I played in the heath one day;I cried for her more than a week, dears,But I could never find where she lay.

Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,For her paint is all washed away,And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears,And her hair is not the least bit curled;Yet for old sake's sake she is still, dears,The prettiest doll in the world.

Charles Kingsley

Dolly's Patchwork Counterpane

Oh, Mary, see what the nurse has found,Such store of pieces in my box!Some green, and some with lilac ground.They'll make such lovely blocks

She says she'll teach me how to makeA counterpane for Dolly's bed,This lovely piece I first will take,With sprays of roses white and red

And thin this piece with purple spotsWill look so pretty next to that!I'll keep my cotton free from knots,And make my stitches neat and flat

And "when I've finished it," she saysShe'll line it with a square of white.Oh, Dolly dear! your little bedWill be a most enchanting sight!

The Wooden Doll

I'm but a wooden doll,Have neither wit nor grace;And very clumsy in my jointsAnd yet I know my place.

Most people laugh at a wooden doll,And wooden I may be,But little children love me muchAnd that's enough for me.

When I am dressed in fine long clothes,In fur, and silk, and lace,I think myself I'm not so badAnd yet I know my place.

Let people laugh—I know I'm wood:Wax I can never be;But little children think I'm grand—That's quite enough for me.

Buy My Dolls

Come buy my dolls, my pretty dolls:Come buy my dolls, I pray:I've such a heap,And I sell so cheap,I almost give them away.

I've waxen dolls, and china dolls,And dollies made of gum,Some are small,And some are tall,Some talk and some are dumb.

Bald head dolls, and dolls with hair,All beauties in their way—So very nice,So low in price,Please buy my dolls to-day.

Laughing dolls, and crying dolls;Dolls of various ages,Infant dolls,And lady dolls,Dolls in all the stages.

Go where you may, you will not findSuch bargains as are theseMake my heart light,Buy them to night,To grace your Christmas trees.

Previous-Index-Next

Doctor Charlie and His Patient.

Doctor Charlie and His PatientRun for the doctor!Dolly's very sick!Mary, you'll have to go,I cannot leave her;Tell him to pack his bottlesAnd come quick;I think she has gotA very dangerous fever."In stalks a hat and cane;If you look close,You'll see Doctor Charlie,Somewhere under;He takes a pinch of snuffAnd blows his nose,While poor sick DollySeems to stare in wonder.He feels her pules, heGravely shakes his head:His hat dropped o'er his eyesWith the shake he gave it;He says poor dollyMust be put to bedAnd have her head shaved—He, in fact, will shave it.Poor mamma sober looks,But says at onceThat "Dolly's head shallNot be shaved! I guess not!Her hair would never growAgain, you dunce!""It shall!" "It shan't!""She'll die then, if it's not!"But Mary, ere the quarrelGets too grave(Already in her handA bowl of gruel),Says, "Don't you knowThat doctors do not shave?And then besides,It really would be cruel!""I'll give her pills, then,When she's safe in bed,Plenty and sweet—of sugarI will make them;As dolly cannot eat,'Twill do insteadFor you and me andMary here to take them."Dollies' Broken NosesTwo little babiesIn carriages two,Two little nursesWith duty to do.Both little nursesWere careful at first,Soon both grew careless—Which was the worst.O what a pitifulWail from the street!One broken railTrips four little feet.Over went carriages,Babies and all,And two china nosesWere cracked in the fall.The Soldier DollyThere once was a sweet tiny maiden,A wee little woman of four,Who scarce could reach up to the table,Or open the nursery door;And this poor little maid, she was crying—Her dolly had such a fall!Yes there on the ground he was lying—Her darling, the best of them all.This dolly had been a brave soldier,With uniform, sabre, and all,And worshipp'd a doll in the doll's-house,That stood by the side of the wall.She was only a poor tiny maiden,A wee little woman of four,And she sat with her heart nearly breaking,With the doll in her lap on the floor.And the poor, tiny, sorrowful maiden,The wee little woman of four,Now lies with her dead soldier dolly,Asleep on the nursery floor.The Dead DollYou needn't be trying to comfort me—I tell you my dolly is dead!There's no use saying she isn't—With a crack like that on her head.It's just like you said it wouldn't hurtMuch to have my tooth out that day.And then when they most pulledMy head off, you hadn't a word to say.And I guess you must think I'm a baby,When you say you can mend it with glue!As if I didn't know better than that!Why, just suppose it was you?You might make her look all mended—But what do I care for looks?Why, glue's for chairs and tables,And toys, and the backs of books!My dolly! my own little daughter!Oh, but it's the awfullest crack!It just makes me sick to think of the soundWhen her poor head went whackAgainst this horrible brass thingThat holds up the little shelf.Now, Nursey, what makes you remind me?I know that I did it myself?I think you must be crazy—You'll get her another head!What good would forty heads do her?I tell you my dolly is dead!And to think that I hadn't quite finishedHer elegant New Year's hat!And I took a sweet ribbon of hersList night to tie on that horrid cat!When my mamma gave me that ribbon—I was playing out in the yard—She said to me most expressly:"Here's a ribbon for Hildegarde."And I went and put it on Tabby,And Hildegarde saw me do it;But I said to myself, "Oh, never mind,I don't believe she knew it!"But I know that she knew it now,And I just believe, I do,That her poor little heart was broken,And so her head broke too.Oh, my baby! my little baby!I wish my head had been hit!For I've hit it over and over,And it hasn't cracked a bit.But since the darling is dead,She'll want to be buried of course;We will take my little wagon, Nurse,And you shall be the horse;And I'll walk behind and cry;And we'll put her in this—you see,This dear little box—and we'll buryThem under the maple tree.And papa will make a tombstone,Like the one he made for my bird;And he'll put what I tell him on it—Yes, every single word!I shall say: "Here lies Hildegarde,A beautiful doll that is dead;She died of a broken heart,And a dreadful crack in her head."Margaret VandegriftDolly's DoctorDolly, my darling, is dreadfully sick;Oh, dear! what shall I do?Despatch to the doctor a telephone quickTo bring her a remedy new.Hush! that is the doctor's tap! tap! tap!Don't make such a terrible noise—Don't you see how the darling lies still on my lap,And never looks up at you boys!Come, doctor, and tell me now just what you thinkWould be best for my darling so sweet.'Give dolly a bucket of water to drink,In a bowl of hot gruel put her feet.'Giving Sick Dolly Medicine.

Doctor Charlie and His Patient

Run for the doctor!Dolly's very sick!Mary, you'll have to go,I cannot leave her;Tell him to pack his bottlesAnd come quick;I think she has gotA very dangerous fever."

In stalks a hat and cane;If you look close,You'll see Doctor Charlie,Somewhere under;He takes a pinch of snuffAnd blows his nose,While poor sick DollySeems to stare in wonder.

He feels her pules, heGravely shakes his head:His hat dropped o'er his eyesWith the shake he gave it;He says poor dollyMust be put to bedAnd have her head shaved—He, in fact, will shave it.

Poor mamma sober looks,But says at onceThat "Dolly's head shallNot be shaved! I guess not!Her hair would never growAgain, you dunce!""It shall!" "It shan't!""She'll die then, if it's not!"

But Mary, ere the quarrelGets too grave(Already in her handA bowl of gruel),Says, "Don't you knowThat doctors do not shave?And then besides,It really would be cruel!"

"I'll give her pills, then,When she's safe in bed,Plenty and sweet—of sugarI will make them;As dolly cannot eat,'Twill do insteadFor you and me andMary here to take them."

Dollies' Broken Noses

Two little babiesIn carriages two,Two little nursesWith duty to do.

Both little nursesWere careful at first,Soon both grew careless—Which was the worst.

O what a pitifulWail from the street!One broken railTrips four little feet.

Over went carriages,Babies and all,And two china nosesWere cracked in the fall.

The Soldier Dolly

There once was a sweet tiny maiden,A wee little woman of four,Who scarce could reach up to the table,Or open the nursery door;

And this poor little maid, she was crying—Her dolly had such a fall!Yes there on the ground he was lying—Her darling, the best of them all.

This dolly had been a brave soldier,With uniform, sabre, and all,And worshipp'd a doll in the doll's-house,That stood by the side of the wall.

She was only a poor tiny maiden,A wee little woman of four,And she sat with her heart nearly breaking,With the doll in her lap on the floor.

And the poor, tiny, sorrowful maiden,The wee little woman of four,Now lies with her dead soldier dolly,Asleep on the nursery floor.

The Dead Doll

You needn't be trying to comfort me—I tell you my dolly is dead!There's no use saying she isn't—With a crack like that on her head.It's just like you said it wouldn't hurtMuch to have my tooth out that day.And then when they most pulledMy head off, you hadn't a word to say.

And I guess you must think I'm a baby,When you say you can mend it with glue!As if I didn't know better than that!Why, just suppose it was you?You might make her look all mended—But what do I care for looks?Why, glue's for chairs and tables,And toys, and the backs of books!

My dolly! my own little daughter!Oh, but it's the awfullest crack!It just makes me sick to think of the soundWhen her poor head went whackAgainst this horrible brass thingThat holds up the little shelf.Now, Nursey, what makes you remind me?I know that I did it myself?

I think you must be crazy—You'll get her another head!What good would forty heads do her?I tell you my dolly is dead!And to think that I hadn't quite finishedHer elegant New Year's hat!And I took a sweet ribbon of hersList night to tie on that horrid cat!

When my mamma gave me that ribbon—I was playing out in the yard—She said to me most expressly:"Here's a ribbon for Hildegarde."And I went and put it on Tabby,And Hildegarde saw me do it;But I said to myself, "Oh, never mind,I don't believe she knew it!"

But I know that she knew it now,And I just believe, I do,That her poor little heart was broken,And so her head broke too.Oh, my baby! my little baby!I wish my head had been hit!For I've hit it over and over,And it hasn't cracked a bit.

But since the darling is dead,She'll want to be buried of course;We will take my little wagon, Nurse,And you shall be the horse;And I'll walk behind and cry;And we'll put her in this—you see,This dear little box—and we'll buryThem under the maple tree.

And papa will make a tombstone,Like the one he made for my bird;And he'll put what I tell him on it—Yes, every single word!I shall say: "Here lies Hildegarde,A beautiful doll that is dead;She died of a broken heart,And a dreadful crack in her head."

Margaret Vandegrift

Dolly's Doctor

Dolly, my darling, is dreadfully sick;Oh, dear! what shall I do?Despatch to the doctor a telephone quickTo bring her a remedy new.

Hush! that is the doctor's tap! tap! tap!Don't make such a terrible noise—Don't you see how the darling lies still on my lap,And never looks up at you boys!

Come, doctor, and tell me now just what you thinkWould be best for my darling so sweet.'Give dolly a bucket of water to drink,In a bowl of hot gruel put her feet.'

Previous-Index-Next

Dollies Courting.

Christening DollySee, this is my Christmas dolly,Two weeks ago she came;And, oh! the trouble I have hadTo find a pretty name.At first I thought of Marguerite—A French name, meaning "pearl"—But Nellie said, "Oh! that's too stiffFor such a graceful girl."And then I mentioned, one by one,Susanna, Ruth, and Poll,"But they are too old-fashioned namesSaid Nell, "to suit your doll."So the next day I got a great big book,And searched it through and through,Then shook my head and sadly said:"There's not one name will do."My brother Tom was sitting near,He raised his eyes and smiled;"Why, Pussy dear," he kindly said,"Suppose I name your child.""Oh! will you Brother Tom?" I cried,And then I hugged him, so; (hugging her doll.)"We'll play you are the parsonThat christens folks, you know."So then, he took her in his armsAnd solemnly and slowHe said: "This baby's name shall beMiss Josephine, or Jo."And there, before I knew it,My baby had a name;And what I like about it, is,That mine is just the same.E.C. and J.T. RookThe Dollies VisitThree little girls brought each a doll,To pass an afternoon;The dresses all were soon displayed,Their bangles made a tune;And when they parted to go home,One young girl shrewdly said:"Our dollies have behaved real nice—They have no scandal spread."W.The Little Girl Over The WayWhenever I'm tired of reading,Or lonely in my play,I come to the window here, and watchThe little girl over the way.But she will not look nor listen,Nor stand for a moment still;And though I watch her the livelong day,I'm afraid she never will.For some day some one will buy her,And carry her quite away;—She is only a doll in a great glass-case,The little girl over the way.Maggie's Talk to DollMy dolly dear,Come sit up here!And say why you don't cry.I've struck your headAgainst the bed,And cracked your pretty eye,My dolly dear,Do sit up here,And let me see your face;And say, my pet,Why you don't fretNow Pug has got your place.My pretty PollMy dear, dear doll,Why don't you eat or talk?Like sister Jane,And Sally Blane,And then go for a walk?You have an eye,But never cry,And lips, but never prattle;You've fingers ten,Like brother Ben,But never shake the rattle.You never eat,Nor drink, nor sleep,Nor move unless you're carried:And when I pinch,You never flinch,Nor say that you are worried.Minnie to DollyYour hair is so pretty,Your eyes are so blue,Your cheeks are so rosy,Your frock is so new,You're the prettiest dollyI ever did see.Though your hair is so pretty,And your eyes are so blue,I'd rather be MinnieThan I would be you,For you can't see the flowersWhen they come up in spring;You can't hear the birdies,How sweetly they sing;Nor run out of doorsTo look in the sky,And see the white cloudsAs they pass swiftly by.You've no kind of papaOr mamma to be near,To love you and teach you;So, dolly, my dear,Though your cheeks are so rosy,And your dress is so new,I'd rather be MinnieThan I would be you.My DollyMy Dolly, Polly Angelina Brown,Has a pretty little bonnet,And a pretty little gown;A pretty little bonnet,With a lovely feather on it;Oh, there's not another like itTo be found in all the town!My Dolly, Polly, is a precious little pet;Her eyes are bright as jewels,And her hair is black as jet;I hug her, and I kiss her!And oh, how I should miss herIf she were taken from me;Oh how I should grieve and fret!My little brother Charley,Says my Dolly is "a muff,"And he calls her other horrid namesThough that is bad enough;And though he's very clever,I never, no, I neverLet him handle her or dandle her,For boys, you know, are rough.My Dolly's always smiling;She was never known to frown.And she looks so very charmingIn her Sunday hat and gown.You really ought to see herTo get a good ideaOf the beauty of my Dolly,Polly Angelina Brown.Dolly's WeddingCome along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!Charley has got his night-gown on.Mary has put the chairs:Charley is the clergymanWho'll marry them up-stairs.Come along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!Sambo has got an old white hat,And a coat with but one tail;Sambo's face is very black,Dolly's is rather pale.Come along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!Sambo has got a woolly pate,Dolly has golden hair.When Sambo marries Dolly,They'll be a funny pair!Come along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!Wedding For Dolls.

Christening Dolly

See, this is my Christmas dolly,Two weeks ago she came;And, oh! the trouble I have hadTo find a pretty name.

At first I thought of Marguerite—A French name, meaning "pearl"—But Nellie said, "Oh! that's too stiffFor such a graceful girl."

And then I mentioned, one by one,Susanna, Ruth, and Poll,"But they are too old-fashioned namesSaid Nell, "to suit your doll."

So the next day I got a great big book,And searched it through and through,Then shook my head and sadly said:"There's not one name will do."

My brother Tom was sitting near,He raised his eyes and smiled;"Why, Pussy dear," he kindly said,"Suppose I name your child."

"Oh! will you Brother Tom?" I cried,And then I hugged him, so; (hugging her doll.)"We'll play you are the parsonThat christens folks, you know."

So then, he took her in his armsAnd solemnly and slowHe said: "This baby's name shall beMiss Josephine, or Jo."

And there, before I knew it,My baby had a name;And what I like about it, is,That mine is just the same.

E.C. and J.T. Rook

The Dollies Visit

Three little girls brought each a doll,To pass an afternoon;The dresses all were soon displayed,Their bangles made a tune;And when they parted to go home,One young girl shrewdly said:"Our dollies have behaved real nice—They have no scandal spread."W.

The Little Girl Over The Way

Whenever I'm tired of reading,Or lonely in my play,I come to the window here, and watchThe little girl over the way.

But she will not look nor listen,Nor stand for a moment still;And though I watch her the livelong day,I'm afraid she never will.

For some day some one will buy her,And carry her quite away;—She is only a doll in a great glass-case,The little girl over the way.

Maggie's Talk to Doll

My dolly dear,Come sit up here!And say why you don't cry.I've struck your headAgainst the bed,And cracked your pretty eye,

My dolly dear,Do sit up here,And let me see your face;And say, my pet,Why you don't fretNow Pug has got your place.

My pretty PollMy dear, dear doll,Why don't you eat or talk?Like sister Jane,And Sally Blane,And then go for a walk?

You have an eye,But never cry,And lips, but never prattle;You've fingers ten,Like brother Ben,But never shake the rattle.

You never eat,Nor drink, nor sleep,Nor move unless you're carried:And when I pinch,You never flinch,Nor say that you are worried.

Minnie to Dolly

Your hair is so pretty,Your eyes are so blue,Your cheeks are so rosy,Your frock is so new,You're the prettiest dollyI ever did see.Though your hair is so pretty,And your eyes are so blue,I'd rather be MinnieThan I would be you,

For you can't see the flowersWhen they come up in spring;You can't hear the birdies,How sweetly they sing;Nor run out of doorsTo look in the sky,And see the white cloudsAs they pass swiftly by.

You've no kind of papaOr mamma to be near,To love you and teach you;So, dolly, my dear,Though your cheeks are so rosy,And your dress is so new,I'd rather be MinnieThan I would be you.

My Dolly

My Dolly, Polly Angelina Brown,Has a pretty little bonnet,And a pretty little gown;A pretty little bonnet,With a lovely feather on it;Oh, there's not another like itTo be found in all the town!

My Dolly, Polly, is a precious little pet;Her eyes are bright as jewels,And her hair is black as jet;I hug her, and I kiss her!And oh, how I should miss herIf she were taken from me;Oh how I should grieve and fret!

My little brother Charley,Says my Dolly is "a muff,"And he calls her other horrid namesThough that is bad enough;And though he's very clever,I never, no, I neverLet him handle her or dandle her,For boys, you know, are rough.

My Dolly's always smiling;She was never known to frown.And she looks so very charmingIn her Sunday hat and gown.You really ought to see herTo get a good ideaOf the beauty of my Dolly,Polly Angelina Brown.

Dolly's Wedding

Come along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!

Charley has got his night-gown on.Mary has put the chairs:Charley is the clergymanWho'll marry them up-stairs.Come along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!

Sambo has got an old white hat,And a coat with but one tail;Sambo's face is very black,Dolly's is rather pale.Come along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!

Sambo has got a woolly pate,Dolly has golden hair.When Sambo marries Dolly,They'll be a funny pair!Come along; come along;The rain has gone away.Dingle-dong! dingle dong;It is Dolly's wedding-day!

Previous-Index-Next

Back to Index Next