When Thomas PooleFirst went to school,He was but scarcely seven,Yet knew as wellTo read and spellAs most boys of eleven.He took his seat,And wrote quite neat,And never idly acted;And then besideHe multiplied,Divided, and subtracted.His master said,And stroked his head,"If thus you persevere,My little friend,You may dependUpon a prize next year."
When Thomas PooleFirst went to school,He was but scarcely seven,Yet knew as wellTo read and spellAs most boys of eleven.
He took his seat,And wrote quite neat,And never idly acted;And then besideHe multiplied,Divided, and subtracted.
His master said,And stroked his head,"If thus you persevere,My little friend,You may dependUpon a prize next year."
'Tis winter, cold winter, and William has beenTo look at the place on the poolWhere Henry was drown'd by the ice breaking in,About half a mile from the school.And Henry was told on that very same dayHe must not go into that field,But then, as he thought, if he did disobey,The fault might for once be conceal'd.A lesson for William, who hangs down his head,Without any spirits for play;His favourite friend and companion is deadBecausehe would have his own way.
'Tis winter, cold winter, and William has beenTo look at the place on the poolWhere Henry was drown'd by the ice breaking in,About half a mile from the school.
And Henry was told on that very same dayHe must not go into that field,But then, as he thought, if he did disobey,The fault might for once be conceal'd.
A lesson for William, who hangs down his head,Without any spirits for play;His favourite friend and companion is deadBecausehe would have his own way.
Yesterday Rebecca Mason,In the parlour by herself,Broke a handsome china basin,Plac'd upon the mantel-shelf.Quite alarm'd, she thought of goingVery quietly away,Not a single person knowingOf her being there that day.But Rebecca recollectedShe was taught deceit to shun;And the moment she reflected,Told her mother what was done;Who commended her behaviour,Lov'd her better, and forgave her.
Yesterday Rebecca Mason,In the parlour by herself,Broke a handsome china basin,Plac'd upon the mantel-shelf.
Quite alarm'd, she thought of goingVery quietly away,Not a single person knowingOf her being there that day.
But Rebecca recollectedShe was taught deceit to shun;And the moment she reflected,Told her mother what was done;
Who commended her behaviour,Lov'd her better, and forgave her.
"Mamma, dear mamma," cried in haste Mary Anne,As into the parlour she eagerly ran,"I hear that a giant is just come to town,So tall, he is often obliged to stoop down;Oh, pray let us see him, oh, do let us go;Indeed, dear mamma, he's a wonderful show.""You are earnest, my love, and shall not be denied,"Her truly affectionate mother replied."A lady this morning has also arrivedWho of arms and of legs from her birth was deprived,Yet is in a number of ways as expertAs if she were able these limbs to exert."We'll visit Miss Beffin to-morrow, and thenI'll speak of the giant and lady again;You are not mistaken, his overgrown sizeWe cannot behold without feeling surprise,Whilst Beffin's example most forcibly standsA silent rebuke to all—indolent hands."
"Mamma, dear mamma," cried in haste Mary Anne,As into the parlour she eagerly ran,"I hear that a giant is just come to town,So tall, he is often obliged to stoop down;Oh, pray let us see him, oh, do let us go;Indeed, dear mamma, he's a wonderful show."
"You are earnest, my love, and shall not be denied,"Her truly affectionate mother replied."A lady this morning has also arrivedWho of arms and of legs from her birth was deprived,Yet is in a number of ways as expertAs if she were able these limbs to exert.
"We'll visit Miss Beffin to-morrow, and thenI'll speak of the giant and lady again;You are not mistaken, his overgrown sizeWe cannot behold without feeling surprise,Whilst Beffin's example most forcibly standsA silent rebuke to all—indolent hands."
Maria intended a letter to write,But could not begin (as she thought) to indite,So went to her mother with pencil and slate,Containing "Dear Sister," and also a date."With nothing to say, my dear girl, do not thinkOf wasting your time over paper and ink;But certainly this is an excellent way,To try with your slate to find something to say."I will give you a rule," said her mother, "my dear,Just think for a moment your sister is here:And what would you tell her? consider, and then,Though silent your tongue, you can speak with your pen."
Maria intended a letter to write,But could not begin (as she thought) to indite,So went to her mother with pencil and slate,Containing "Dear Sister," and also a date.
"With nothing to say, my dear girl, do not thinkOf wasting your time over paper and ink;But certainly this is an excellent way,To try with your slate to find something to say.
"I will give you a rule," said her mother, "my dear,Just think for a moment your sister is here:And what would you tell her? consider, and then,Though silent your tongue, you can speak with your pen."
When Sarah's papa was from home a great way,She attempted to write him a letter one day.First ruling the paper, an excellent plan,In all proper order Miss Sarah began.She said she lamented sincerely to tellThat her dearest mamma had been very unwell;That the story was long, but that when he came back,He would hear of the shocking behaviour of Jack.Though an error or two we by chance may detect,It was better than treating papa with neglect;And Sarah, when older, we know will learn better,And write single "I" with a capital letter.
When Sarah's papa was from home a great way,She attempted to write him a letter one day.First ruling the paper, an excellent plan,In all proper order Miss Sarah began.She said she lamented sincerely to tellThat her dearest mamma had been very unwell;That the story was long, but that when he came back,He would hear of the shocking behaviour of Jack.Though an error or two we by chance may detect,It was better than treating papa with neglect;And Sarah, when older, we know will learn better,And write single "I" with a capital letter.
Maria's aunt, who lived in Town,Once wrote a letter to her niece,And sent, wrapp'd up, a new half-crown,Besides a pretty pocket-piece.Maria jump'd with joy and ranTo tell her sister the good news;She said, "I mean to buy a fan,Come, come along with me to choose."They quickly tied their hats, and talk'dOf yellow, lilac, pink, and green;But far the sisters had not walk'd,Before the saddest sight was seen.Upon the ground a poor lame man,Helpless and old, had tumbled down;She thought no more about the fan,But gave to him her new half-crown.
Maria's aunt, who lived in Town,Once wrote a letter to her niece,And sent, wrapp'd up, a new half-crown,Besides a pretty pocket-piece.
Maria jump'd with joy and ranTo tell her sister the good news;She said, "I mean to buy a fan,Come, come along with me to choose."
They quickly tied their hats, and talk'dOf yellow, lilac, pink, and green;But far the sisters had not walk'd,Before the saddest sight was seen.
Upon the ground a poor lame man,Helpless and old, had tumbled down;She thought no more about the fan,But gave to him her new half-crown.
Miss Alice was quietly seated at workWhen Susan, her cousin, came quite in a hurry,Exclaiming, "Come, Alice, and look at a Turk,Oh, if you don't see him, I shall be so sorry."His dress is so grand, but you don't seem to stir.""I cannot," said Alice, "mamma has requir'd meTo stop in this room; I am waiting for her,And hope I shall finish the work she desir'd me.""All nonsense," said Susan, "I beg you will come";But Alice resolv'd on obedient behaviour,For which she felt glad, when her mother came home,And gave her a smile of approval and favour.
Miss Alice was quietly seated at workWhen Susan, her cousin, came quite in a hurry,Exclaiming, "Come, Alice, and look at a Turk,Oh, if you don't see him, I shall be so sorry.
"His dress is so grand, but you don't seem to stir.""I cannot," said Alice, "mamma has requir'd meTo stop in this room; I am waiting for her,And hope I shall finish the work she desir'd me."
"All nonsense," said Susan, "I beg you will come";But Alice resolv'd on obedient behaviour,For which she felt glad, when her mother came home,And gave her a smile of approval and favour.
"See, Fanny," said Miss Charlotte Pride,"How fine I am to-day:A new silk hat, a sash beside;Am I not very gay?"Look at my necklace—real pearls!My ear-rings, how they shine;I think I know some little girlsWould like to be as fine."Said Fanny, "Your papa, 'tis true,Your dress can well afford;But if you think I envy you,I don't—upon my word."My father loves to see me dressQuite modest, neat, and clean;In plain white muslin, I confess,I'm happy as a queen."YourParents after pleasures roam,Not like papa, for heDelights to stay with me at home—Nowdon't you envy me?"
"See, Fanny," said Miss Charlotte Pride,"How fine I am to-day:A new silk hat, a sash beside;Am I not very gay?
"Look at my necklace—real pearls!My ear-rings, how they shine;I think I know some little girlsWould like to be as fine."
Said Fanny, "Your papa, 'tis true,Your dress can well afford;But if you think I envy you,I don't—upon my word.
"My father loves to see me dressQuite modest, neat, and clean;In plain white muslin, I confess,I'm happy as a queen.
"YourParents after pleasures roam,Not like papa, for heDelights to stay with me at home—Nowdon't you envy me?"
"Louisa, my love," Mrs. Manners began,"I fear you are learning to stare,To avoid looking bold, I must give you a plan,Quite easy to practise with care."It is not a lady's or gentleman's eyesYou should look at, whenever address'd,Whilst hearing them speak, or in making replies,To look at themouthis the best."This method is modest and easy to learn,When children are glad to be taught;And ah! what a pleasure it is in return,To speak and to look as you ought!"
"Louisa, my love," Mrs. Manners began,"I fear you are learning to stare,To avoid looking bold, I must give you a plan,Quite easy to practise with care.
"It is not a lady's or gentleman's eyesYou should look at, whenever address'd,Whilst hearing them speak, or in making replies,To look at themouthis the best.
"This method is modest and easy to learn,When children are glad to be taught;And ah! what a pleasure it is in return,To speak and to look as you ought!"
Once as little IsabellaVentured, with a large umbrella,Out upon a rainy day,She was nearly blown away.Sadly frighten'd then was she,For 'twas very near the sea,And the wind was very high,But, alas! no friend was nigh.Luckily, her good mammaSaw her trouble from afar;Running just in time, she caught herPretty little flying daughter.
Once as little IsabellaVentured, with a large umbrella,Out upon a rainy day,She was nearly blown away.
Sadly frighten'd then was she,For 'twas very near the sea,And the wind was very high,But, alas! no friend was nigh.
Luckily, her good mammaSaw her trouble from afar;Running just in time, she caught herPretty little flying daughter.
Note.—This story recalls the adventures of Robert at the end ofStruwwelpeter. Robert, however, was not caught.
Maria had an aunt at Leeds,For whom she made a purse of beads;'Twas neatly done, by all allow'd,And praise soon made her vain and proud.Her mother, willing to repressThis strong conceit of cleverness,Said, "I will show you, if you please,A honeycomb, the work of bees!"Yes, look within their hive, and thenExamine well your purse again;Compare your merits, and you willAdmit the insects' greater skill!"
Maria had an aunt at Leeds,For whom she made a purse of beads;'Twas neatly done, by all allow'd,And praise soon made her vain and proud.
Her mother, willing to repressThis strong conceit of cleverness,Said, "I will show you, if you please,A honeycomb, the work of bees!
"Yes, look within their hive, and thenExamine well your purse again;Compare your merits, and you willAdmit the insects' greater skill!"
That beautiful cottage not far from the roadIn holiday time was Matilda's abode,Who, taken one day by her aunt to the town,Had put in her purse rather more than a crown:'Twas either to keep, or to give, or to spendIn what she lik'd best, for herself or a friend:Soon trinkets and ribbons in turn made her stopTo purchase a trifle at every shop,Before she remember'd the canvas and woolShe intended to buy when her purse appear'd full;Then wanted to borrow, a favour her auntRefus'd, because very improper to grant.Young ladies' extravagance ought to be metBy teaching them—never to run into debt.
That beautiful cottage not far from the roadIn holiday time was Matilda's abode,Who, taken one day by her aunt to the town,Had put in her purse rather more than a crown:'Twas either to keep, or to give, or to spendIn what she lik'd best, for herself or a friend:Soon trinkets and ribbons in turn made her stopTo purchase a trifle at every shop,Before she remember'd the canvas and woolShe intended to buy when her purse appear'd full;Then wanted to borrow, a favour her auntRefus'd, because very improper to grant.Young ladies' extravagance ought to be metBy teaching them—never to run into debt.
Mamma had ordered Ann, the maid,Miss Caroline to wash;And put on with her clean white frockA handsome muslin sash.But Caroline began to cry,For what you cannot think:She said, "Oh, that's an ugly sash;I'll have my pretty pink."Papa, who in the parlour heardHer make the noise and rout,That instant went to Caroline,To whip her, there's no doubt.
Mamma had ordered Ann, the maid,Miss Caroline to wash;And put on with her clean white frockA handsome muslin sash.
But Caroline began to cry,For what you cannot think:She said, "Oh, that's an ugly sash;I'll have my pretty pink."
Papa, who in the parlour heardHer make the noise and rout,That instant went to Caroline,To whip her, there's no doubt.
"Mamma, I quite dislike these shoes,I hope you'll send them back;They are so ugly! I should chooseMuch prettier than black!"I thought you mention'd blue or buffWhen ordering a pair,Or green I should like well enough,But black I cannot bear!"Young Isabella's prattle o'er,Her mother soon express'dA wish that she would say no more,Sinceblackones suited best.Which, when the little lady heard,She did not say another word.
"Mamma, I quite dislike these shoes,I hope you'll send them back;They are so ugly! I should chooseMuch prettier than black!
"I thought you mention'd blue or buffWhen ordering a pair,Or green I should like well enough,But black I cannot bear!"
Young Isabella's prattle o'er,Her mother soon express'dA wish that she would say no more,Sinceblackones suited best.
Which, when the little lady heard,She did not say another word.
Miss Lucy Wright, though not so tall,Was just the age of Sophy Ball,But I have always understoodMiss Sophy was not half so good:For as they both had faded teeth,Their teacher sent for Doctor Heath,But Sophy made a dreadful rout,And would not have hers taken out;But Lucy Wright endured the pain,Nor did she ever once complain.Her teeth return'd quite sound and white,While Sophy's ached both day and night.
Miss Lucy Wright, though not so tall,Was just the age of Sophy Ball,But I have always understoodMiss Sophy was not half so good:For as they both had faded teeth,Their teacher sent for Doctor Heath,But Sophy made a dreadful rout,And would not have hers taken out;But Lucy Wright endured the pain,Nor did she ever once complain.Her teeth return'd quite sound and white,While Sophy's ached both day and night.
Fanny Fletcher is forgetful,Never wilful in her life,Neither obstinate nor fretful,Loving truth and shunning strife.From a girl of so much merit,May we not in time expectShe will show a proper spiritOnewrong habit to correct?Friends will say it is a pityIf her resolution fails—Fanny looks both good and prettyWhen she does not bite her nails!
Fanny Fletcher is forgetful,Never wilful in her life,Neither obstinate nor fretful,Loving truth and shunning strife.
From a girl of so much merit,May we not in time expectShe will show a proper spiritOnewrong habit to correct?
Friends will say it is a pityIf her resolution fails—Fanny looks both good and prettyWhen she does not bite her nails!
Those who saw Miss Sarah gapingIn the middle of the day,This remark were often makingOn this dull and drowsy way:"Half asleep, and yet she's waken!If, poor child, she is not sick,Some good method must be takenTo correct this idle trick."
Those who saw Miss Sarah gapingIn the middle of the day,This remark were often makingOn this dull and drowsy way:
"Half asleep, and yet she's waken!If, poor child, she is not sick,Some good method must be takenTo correct this idle trick."
Miss Agnes had two or three dolls and a boxTo hold all her bonnets and tippets and frocks;In a red leather thread-case that snapp'd when it shut,She had needles to sew with and scissors to cut;But Agnes liked better to play with rude boysThan work with her needle, or play with her toys.Young ladies should always appear neat and clean,Yet Agnes was seldom dress'd fit to be seen.I saw her one morning attempting to throwA very large stone, when it fell on her toe:The boys, who were present and saw what was done,Set up a loud laugh, and they call'd it fine fun.But I took her home, and the doctor soon came,And Agnes, I fear, will a long time be lame:As from morning till night she laments very much,That now when she walks she must lean on a crutch;And she told her dear father, a thousand times o'er,That she never will play with rude boys any more.
Miss Agnes had two or three dolls and a boxTo hold all her bonnets and tippets and frocks;In a red leather thread-case that snapp'd when it shut,She had needles to sew with and scissors to cut;But Agnes liked better to play with rude boysThan work with her needle, or play with her toys.
Young ladies should always appear neat and clean,Yet Agnes was seldom dress'd fit to be seen.I saw her one morning attempting to throwA very large stone, when it fell on her toe:The boys, who were present and saw what was done,Set up a loud laugh, and they call'd it fine fun.
But I took her home, and the doctor soon came,And Agnes, I fear, will a long time be lame:As from morning till night she laments very much,That now when she walks she must lean on a crutch;And she told her dear father, a thousand times o'er,That she never will play with rude boys any more.
Note.—"Hoyden" is not used now. We say "Tomboy."
Miss Helen was always too giddy to heedWhat her mother had told her to shun,For frequently over the street in full speedShe would cross where the carriages run.And out she would go to a very deep well,To look at the water below;How naughty! to run to a dangerous well,Where her mother forbade her to go!One morning, intending to take but one peep,Her foot slipp'd away from the ground:Unhappy misfortune! the water was deep,And giddy Miss Helen was drown'd.
Miss Helen was always too giddy to heedWhat her mother had told her to shun,For frequently over the street in full speedShe would cross where the carriages run.
And out she would go to a very deep well,To look at the water below;How naughty! to run to a dangerous well,Where her mother forbade her to go!
One morning, intending to take but one peep,Her foot slipp'd away from the ground:Unhappy misfortune! the water was deep,And giddy Miss Helen was drown'd.
As Frances was playing and turning around,Her head grew so giddy she fell to the ground;'Twas well that she was not much hurt;But, O what a pity! her frock was so soil'dThat had you beheld the unfortunate child,You had seen her all cover'd with dirt.Her mother was sorry, and said, "Do not cry,And Mary shall wash you, and make you quite dry,If you'll promise to turn round no more.""What, not in the parlour?" the little girl said."No, not in the parlour; for lately I readOf a girl who was hurt with the door."She was playing and turning, until her poor headFell against the hard door, and it very much bled;And I heard Dr. Camomile tellThat he put on a plaster and cover'd it up,Then he gave her some tea that was bitter to sup,Or perhaps it had never been well."
As Frances was playing and turning around,Her head grew so giddy she fell to the ground;'Twas well that she was not much hurt;But, O what a pity! her frock was so soil'dThat had you beheld the unfortunate child,You had seen her all cover'd with dirt.
Her mother was sorry, and said, "Do not cry,And Mary shall wash you, and make you quite dry,If you'll promise to turn round no more.""What, not in the parlour?" the little girl said."No, not in the parlour; for lately I readOf a girl who was hurt with the door.
"She was playing and turning, until her poor headFell against the hard door, and it very much bled;And I heard Dr. Camomile tellThat he put on a plaster and cover'd it up,Then he gave her some tea that was bitter to sup,Or perhaps it had never been well."
The friends of little Mary GreenAre now in deep distress,The family will soon be seenTo wear a mournful dress.It seems, from litter on the floor,She had been lighting straws,Which caught the muslin frock she wore,A sad event to cause.Her screams were loud and quickly heard,And remedies applied,But all in vain, she scarcely stirr'dAgain, before she died!
The friends of little Mary GreenAre now in deep distress,The family will soon be seenTo wear a mournful dress.
It seems, from litter on the floor,She had been lighting straws,Which caught the muslin frock she wore,A sad event to cause.
Her screams were loud and quickly heard,And remedies applied,But all in vain, she scarcely stirr'dAgain, before she died!
O, we have had a sad mishap!As Clara lay in Nurse's lap,Too near the fire the chair did stand—A coal flew out and burnt her hand.It must have flown above the guard,It came so quick and hit so hard;And, would you think it? raised a blister.O, how she cried! poor little sister!Poor thing! I grieved to see it swell."What will you put to make it well?""Why," said Mamma, "I really thinkSome scraped potato, or some ink,"A little vinegar, or brandy,Whichever nurse can find most handy:All these are good, my little daughter,But nothing's better than cold water."
O, we have had a sad mishap!As Clara lay in Nurse's lap,Too near the fire the chair did stand—A coal flew out and burnt her hand.
It must have flown above the guard,It came so quick and hit so hard;And, would you think it? raised a blister.O, how she cried! poor little sister!
Poor thing! I grieved to see it swell."What will you put to make it well?""Why," said Mamma, "I really thinkSome scraped potato, or some ink,
"A little vinegar, or brandy,Whichever nurse can find most handy:All these are good, my little daughter,But nothing's better than cold water."
How mischievous it was, when WillPush'd his young sister down the hill,Then ran away, a naughty boy,Although he heard her sadly cry!Their mother, who was walking out,Saw the rude trick, and heard him shout;With gentle voice, but angry nod,She threaten'd Willy with the rod.But Mary Anne, afraid of this,Begg'd they might now be friends and kiss:She said, "Mamma, I feel no pain,And Willy won't do so again."Then Willy call'd his sister "good,"And said he "never, never would."
How mischievous it was, when WillPush'd his young sister down the hill,Then ran away, a naughty boy,Although he heard her sadly cry!
Their mother, who was walking out,Saw the rude trick, and heard him shout;With gentle voice, but angry nod,She threaten'd Willy with the rod.
But Mary Anne, afraid of this,Begg'd they might now be friends and kiss:She said, "Mamma, I feel no pain,And Willy won't do so again."
Then Willy call'd his sister "good,"And said he "never, never would."
Miss Sophy, one fine sunny day,Left her work and ran away.When she reach'd the garden-gate,She found it lock'd, but would not wait,So tried to climb and scramble o'erA gate as high as any door.But little girls should never climb,And Sophy won't another time;For when upon the highest rail,Her frock was caught upon a nail:She lost her hold, and, sad to tell,Was hurt and bruised—for down she fell.
Miss Sophy, one fine sunny day,Left her work and ran away.When she reach'd the garden-gate,She found it lock'd, but would not wait,So tried to climb and scramble o'erA gate as high as any door.
But little girls should never climb,And Sophy won't another time;For when upon the highest rail,Her frock was caught upon a nail:She lost her hold, and, sad to tell,Was hurt and bruised—for down she fell.
When children are naughty and will not be dress'd,Pray, what do you think is the way?Why, often I really believe it is bestTo keep them in night-clothes all day!But then they can have no good breakfast to eat,Nor walk with their Mother or Aunt;At dinner they'll have neither pudding nor meat,Nor anything else that they want.Then who would be naughty, and sit all the dayIn night-clothes unfit to be seen?And pray, who would lose all their pudding and play,For not being dress'd neat and clean?
When children are naughty and will not be dress'd,Pray, what do you think is the way?Why, often I really believe it is bestTo keep them in night-clothes all day!
But then they can have no good breakfast to eat,Nor walk with their Mother or Aunt;At dinner they'll have neither pudding nor meat,Nor anything else that they want.
Then who would be naughty, and sit all the dayIn night-clothes unfit to be seen?And pray, who would lose all their pudding and play,For not being dress'd neat and clean?
"Indeed you are troublesome, Anne," said her aunt,"You begg'd me to bring you abroad,And now you are cross and pretend that you wantTo be carried the rest of the road."I hope you know better than cry in the street:The people will think it so odd,And if Mrs. Birch we should happen to meet,She will ask if we want a new rod."Then dry up your tears; with a smile on your faceYou will speak in a different tune.And now you have cleverly mended your pace,We shall both be at home very soon."
"Indeed you are troublesome, Anne," said her aunt,"You begg'd me to bring you abroad,And now you are cross and pretend that you wantTo be carried the rest of the road.
"I hope you know better than cry in the street:The people will think it so odd,And if Mrs. Birch we should happen to meet,She will ask if we want a new rod.
"Then dry up your tears; with a smile on your faceYou will speak in a different tune.And now you have cleverly mended your pace,We shall both be at home very soon."
The babe was in the cradle laid,And Tom had said his prayers,When Frances told the nursery-maidShe would not go upstairs.She cried so loud her mother cameTo ask the reason why,And said, "Oh, Frances, fie for shame!Oh fie! Oh fie! Oh fie!"But Frances was more naughty still,And Betty sadly nipp'd:Until her mother said, "I will—I must have Frances whipp'd."For, oh! how naughty 'tis to cry,But worse, much worse to fight,Instead of running readilyAnd calling out, 'Good-night!'"
The babe was in the cradle laid,And Tom had said his prayers,When Frances told the nursery-maidShe would not go upstairs.
She cried so loud her mother cameTo ask the reason why,And said, "Oh, Frances, fie for shame!Oh fie! Oh fie! Oh fie!"
But Frances was more naughty still,And Betty sadly nipp'd:Until her mother said, "I will—I must have Frances whipp'd.
"For, oh! how naughty 'tis to cry,But worse, much worse to fight,Instead of running readilyAnd calling out, 'Good-night!'"
A very young lady,And Susan the maid,Who carried the baby,Were one day afraid.They saw a cow feeding,Quite harmless and still:Yet scream'd, without heedingThe man at the mill,Who, seeing their flutter,Said, "Cows do no harm;But send you good butterAnd milk from the farm."
A very young lady,And Susan the maid,Who carried the baby,Were one day afraid.
They saw a cow feeding,Quite harmless and still:Yet scream'd, without heedingThe man at the mill,
Who, seeing their flutter,Said, "Cows do no harm;But send you good butterAnd milk from the farm."
As Sally sat upon the ground,A little crawling worm she foundAmong the garden dirt;And when she saw the worm she scream'd,And ran away and cried, and seem'dAs if she had been hurt.Mamma, afraid some serious harmMade Sally scream, was in alarm,And left the parlour then;But when the cause she came to learn,She bade her daughter back return,To see the worm again.The worm they found kept writhing round,Until it sank beneath the ground;And Sally learned that dayThat worms are very harmless things,With neither teeth, nor claws, nor stingsTo frighten her away.
As Sally sat upon the ground,A little crawling worm she foundAmong the garden dirt;And when she saw the worm she scream'd,And ran away and cried, and seem'dAs if she had been hurt.
Mamma, afraid some serious harmMade Sally scream, was in alarm,And left the parlour then;But when the cause she came to learn,She bade her daughter back return,To see the worm again.
The worm they found kept writhing round,Until it sank beneath the ground;And Sally learned that dayThat worms are very harmless things,With neither teeth, nor claws, nor stingsTo frighten her away.
"How can you bear to use him so,You cruel little monkey?Oh give him not another blow,But spare the patient Donkey.""I own," his mother said, "dear James,You please me by your feeling;But you do wrong to call him names,Your anger too revealing.""Well then," said James, "if what I say,Poor Donkey, won't relieve you—Here, boy, don't beat him all to-day,And sixpence I will give you.""You now behave," said she, "my dear,Like many much above you;In these kind actions persevere,And all your friends will love you."
"How can you bear to use him so,You cruel little monkey?Oh give him not another blow,But spare the patient Donkey."
"I own," his mother said, "dear James,You please me by your feeling;But you do wrong to call him names,Your anger too revealing."
"Well then," said James, "if what I say,Poor Donkey, won't relieve you—Here, boy, don't beat him all to-day,And sixpence I will give you."
"You now behave," said she, "my dear,Like many much above you;In these kind actions persevere,And all your friends will love you."
"Oh, do not drown that pretty thing,"One morn I heard Matilda say—"Do, now, untie that cruel string,And do not drown him, Robert, pray."His feet, how drolly mark'd they are;And feel his coat, as soft as silk;Oh, let me have him, dear mamma,And let him share my bread and milk."Now little Carlo wagg'd his tail,And, looking up, he seem'd to say,"My gratitude shall never failTo you for saving me to-day."And some months after, so it proved,Carlo, the grateful, strong, and brave,His mistress (whom he dearly loved)Deliver'd from a watery grave.
"Oh, do not drown that pretty thing,"One morn I heard Matilda say—"Do, now, untie that cruel string,And do not drown him, Robert, pray.
"His feet, how drolly mark'd they are;And feel his coat, as soft as silk;Oh, let me have him, dear mamma,And let him share my bread and milk."
Now little Carlo wagg'd his tail,And, looking up, he seem'd to say,"My gratitude shall never failTo you for saving me to-day."
And some months after, so it proved,Carlo, the grateful, strong, and brave,His mistress (whom he dearly loved)Deliver'd from a watery grave.
As Lucy with her mother walk'd,She play'd and gambol'd, laugh'd and talk'dTill, coming to the river side,She slipp'd, and floated down the tide.Her faithful Carlo being near,Jump'd in to save his mistress dear;He drew her carefully to shore,And Lucy lives and laughs once more."Dear gen'rous Carlo," Lucy said,"You ne'er shall want for meat and bread;For every day, before I dine,Good Carlo shall have some of mine."
As Lucy with her mother walk'd,She play'd and gambol'd, laugh'd and talk'dTill, coming to the river side,She slipp'd, and floated down the tide.
Her faithful Carlo being near,Jump'd in to save his mistress dear;He drew her carefully to shore,And Lucy lives and laughs once more.
"Dear gen'rous Carlo," Lucy said,"You ne'er shall want for meat and bread;For every day, before I dine,Good Carlo shall have some of mine."
Philip's playful dog was willingAlways to be set on watch;When a whelp, by daily drilling,Trusty seldom found his match!Philip bought him very earlyFrom a beggar going round,Who, from being poor or surly,Said he should be "sold or drown'd."Trusty well repaid his masterFor the care of rearing him,For he sav'd from like disasterPhilip, when he learn'd to swim!
Philip's playful dog was willingAlways to be set on watch;When a whelp, by daily drilling,Trusty seldom found his match!
Philip bought him very earlyFrom a beggar going round,Who, from being poor or surly,Said he should be "sold or drown'd."
Trusty well repaid his masterFor the care of rearing him,For he sav'd from like disasterPhilip, when he learn'd to swim!
Richard is a cruel boy,The people call him "Dick,"For every day he seems to trySome new improper trick!He takes delight in whipping catsAnd pulling off their fur;Although at first he gently pats,And listens to their purr!A naughty boy! unless he mends,He will be told to strip,And learn how such amusement endsBy feeling his own whip.
Richard is a cruel boy,The people call him "Dick,"For every day he seems to trySome new improper trick!
He takes delight in whipping catsAnd pulling off their fur;Although at first he gently pats,And listens to their purr!
A naughty boy! unless he mends,He will be told to strip,And learn how such amusement endsBy feeling his own whip.
Jack Parker was a cruel boy,For mischief was his sole employ;And much it grieved his friends to findHis thoughts so wickedly inclined.He thought it clever to deceive,And often ramble without leave;And ev'ry animal he metHe dearly loved to plague and fret.But all such boys, unless they mend,May come to an unhappy end,Like Jack, who got a fractured skullWhilst bellowing at a furious bull.
Jack Parker was a cruel boy,For mischief was his sole employ;And much it grieved his friends to findHis thoughts so wickedly inclined.
He thought it clever to deceive,And often ramble without leave;And ev'ry animal he metHe dearly loved to plague and fret.
But all such boys, unless they mend,May come to an unhappy end,Like Jack, who got a fractured skullWhilst bellowing at a furious bull.