The Project Gutenberg eBook ofSlovenly Betsy

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofSlovenly BetsyThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Slovenly BetsyAuthor: Heinrich HoffmannRelease date: November 24, 2006 [eBook #19915]Most recently updated: January 2, 2007Language: EnglishCredits: E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLOVENLY BETSY ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Slovenly BetsyAuthor: Heinrich HoffmannRelease date: November 24, 2006 [eBook #19915]Most recently updated: January 2, 2007Language: EnglishCredits: E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

Title: Slovenly Betsy

Author: Heinrich Hoffmann

Release date: November 24, 2006 [eBook #19915]Most recently updated: January 2, 2007

Language: English

Credits: E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLOVENLY BETSY ***

E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan,and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team(http://www.pgdp.net/)

End Paper

Frontispiece

This edition of Slovenly Betsy was originally published in 1911.

Betsy would never wash herselfWhen from her bed she rose,But just as quickly as she couldShe hurried on her clothes.To keep her clothes all nice and cleanMiss Betsy took no pains;In holes her stockings always were,Her dresses filled with stains.Sometimes she went day after dayAnd never combed her hair,While little feathers from her bedStuck on it here and there.The schoolboys, when they Betsy saw,Would point her out, and cry,“Oh! Betsy, what a sight you are!Oh! Slovenly Betsy, fie!”One rainy day her parents wentSome pleasant friends to meet.They took Betsy along with them,All dressed so clean and neat.Nice little boys and girls were there,With whom our Betsy played,Until of playing she grew tired,And to the garden strayed.Out in the rain she danced awhile,But 'twas not long beforeFlat down she tumbled in the mud,And her best clothes she tore.

One rainy day her parents wentSome pleasant friends to meet.They took Betsy along with them,All dressed so clean and neat.Nice little boys and girls were there,With whom our Betsy played,Until of playing she grew tired,And to the garden strayed.Out in the rain she danced awhile,But 'twas not long beforeFlat down she tumbled in the mud,And her best clothes she tore.

Oh! what a sight she was, indeed,When in the room she came;The guests all loudly laughed at her,And she almost died with shame.She turned, and to her home she ran,And then, as here you see,She washed her clothes, and since has beenAs neat as she could be.

This Phoebe Ann was a very proud girl,Her nose had always an upward curl.

She thought herself better than all others beside,And beat even the peacock himself in pride.

She thought the earth was so dirty and brown,That never, by chance, would she look down;And she held up her head in the air so highThat her neck began stretching by and by.It stretched and it stretched; and it grew so longThat her parents thought something must be wrong.It stretched and stretched, and they soon beganTo look up with fear at their Phoebe Ann.

They prayed her to stop her upward gaze,But Phoebe kept on in her old proud ways,Until her neck had grown so long and spareThat her head was more than her neck could bear—And it bent to the ground, like a willow tree,And brought down the head of this proud Phoebe,Until whenever she went out a walk to take,The boys would shout, “Here comes a snake!”

Her head got to be so heavy to drag on,That she had to put it on a little wagon.So don't, my friends, hold your head too high,Or your neck may stretch, too, by and by.

Mamma and Nurse went out one day,And left Pauline alone at play;Around the room she gayly sprang,Clapp'd her hands, and danced, and sang.Now, on the table close at hand,A box of matches chanced to stand,And kind Mamma and Nurse had told her,That if she touched them they would scold her.But Pauline said, “Oh, what a pity!For when they burn it is so pretty;They crackle so, and spit, and flame;And Mamma often burns the same.I'll only light a match or twoAs I have often seen my mother do.”

When Minz and Maunz, the cats, heard this,They said, “Oh, naughty, naughty Miss.Me-ow!” they cried, “Me-ow, me-o,You'll burn to death, if you do so.Mamma forbids it, don't you know?”But Pauline would not take advice,She lit a match, it was so nice!It crackled so, it burned so clear,—Exactly like the picture here.She jumped for joy and ran about,And was too pleased to put it out.

When Minz and Maunz, the cats, heard this,They said, “Oh, naughty, naughty Miss.Me-ow!” they cried, “Me-ow, me-o,You'll burn to death, if you do so.Mamma forbids it, don't you know?”

But Pauline would not take advice,She lit a match, it was so nice!It crackled so, it burned so clear,—Exactly like the picture here.She jumped for joy and ran about,And was too pleased to put it out.

When Minz and Maunz, the cats, saw this,They said, “Oh, naughty, naughty Miss!”And rais'd their pawsAnd stretch'd their claws;“'Tis very, very wrong, you know;Me-ow, me-o, me-ow, me-o!You will be burnt if you do so.Mamma forbids it, don't you know?”Now see! oh, see! a dreadful thing!The fire has caught her apron string:Her apron burns, her arms, her hair;She burns all over, everywhere.

Now see! oh, see! a dreadful thing!The fire has caught her apron string:Her apron burns, her arms, her hair;She burns all over, everywhere.

Then how the pussy cats did mew,What else, poor pussies, could they do?They screamed for help, 'twas all in vain,So then they said, “We'll scream again.Make haste, make haste! Me-ow! me-o!She'll burn to death—we told her so.”Pauline was burnt with all her clothes,And arms and hands, and eyes and nose;Till she had nothing more to loseExcept her little scarlet shoes;And nothing else but these was foundAmong her ashes on the ground.And when the good cats sat besideThe smoking ashes, how they cried,“Me-ow, me-o! Me-ow, me-oo!What will Mamma and Nursey do?”Their tears ran down their cheeks so fastThey made a little pond at last.

Pauline was burnt with all her clothes,And arms and hands, and eyes and nose;Till she had nothing more to loseExcept her little scarlet shoes;And nothing else but these was foundAmong her ashes on the ground.And when the good cats sat besideThe smoking ashes, how they cried,“Me-ow, me-o! Me-ow, me-oo!What will Mamma and Nursey do?”Their tears ran down their cheeks so fastThey made a little pond at last.

“Here, Charlotte,” said Mamma one day.“These stockings knit while I'm away,And should you fail, be sure you'll findMamma is strict, although she's kind.”

But Charlotte took a lazy fit,And did not feel inclined to knit;And soon upon the ground let fallNeedles, and worsted, hose, and all.“I shall not knit,” said she, “not I;At least not now, but by and by;”Then stretched, and yawned, and rubbed her eyes,Like sluggards, when 'tis time to rise.

But when Mamma came home, and foundThe work all strewed upon the ground,Quoth she, “You will not knit, and soTo school barefooted you shall go.”This put poor Charlotte in a fright.And though she knew it served her right,She wept, and begged, and prayed; but stillShe could not change her mother's will.

But when Mamma came home, and foundThe work all strewed upon the ground,Quoth she, “You will not knit, and soTo school barefooted you shall go.”

This put poor Charlotte in a fright.And though she knew it served her right,She wept, and begged, and prayed; but stillShe could not change her mother's will.

To school, where all were spruce and neat,Poor Charlotte went with naked feet.Some showed their pity, some their pride,While Charlotte hid her face and cried.

“Oh, why are you always so bitterly crying?You surely will make yourself blind.What reason on earth for such sobbing and sighing,I pray, can you possibly find?There is no real sorrow, there's nothing distressing,To make you thus grieve and lament.Ah! no; you are just at this moment possessingWhatever should make you content.

Now do, my dear daughter, give over this weeping,”Such was a kind mother's advice.But all was in vain; for you see she's still keepingHer handkerchief up to her eyes.

But now she removes it, and oh! she disclosesA countenance full of dismay;For she certainly feels, or at least she supposesHer eyesight is going away.She is not mistaken, her sight is departing;She knows it and sorrows the more;Then rubs her sore eyes, to relieve them from smarting,And makes them still worse than before.

And now the poor creature is cautiously crawlingAnd feeling her way all around;And now from their sockets her eyeballs are falling;See, there they are down on the ground.My children, from such an example take warning,And happily live while you may;And say to yourselves, when you rise in the morning,“I'll try to be cheerful today.”

“Ipray you now, my little child,”Thus once a kind old ladySpoke to her niece in accents mild,“Do try to be more steady.I know that you will often seeRude boys push, drive, and hurry;But little girls should never beAll in a heat and flurry.”

While thus the lady gave adviceAnd lectured little Polly,To see her stand with downcast eyes,You'd think she'd owned her folly.She did, and many a promise made;But when her aunt departed,Forgetting all, the silly maidOff to the playground started.

Now see what frolic and what fun,The little folks are after;Away they jump, away they run,With many a shout and laughter.

But fools who never will be taught,Except by some disaster,Soon find their knowledge dearly bought,And of a cruel master.This little girl, who, spite of allHer good old aunt had spoken,Would romp about, had such a fallThat her poor leg was broken.

In sore amaze, those standing byThen placed her on a barrow;But oh! to hear her scream and cryTheir souls it sure did harrow.

See how her brother bursts in tears,When told the dreadful story;And see how carefully he bearsThe limb all wet and gory.

Full many a week, screwed up in bed,She lingered sad and weary;

And went on crutches, it is said,Until she died so dreary.

The little girls whom now you'll seeWere sisters in one family;And both enjoyed an equal shareOf a kind mother's anxious care.This one in neatness took a pride,And oft the brush and comb applied;

Oft washed her face, and oft her hands;See, now, thus occupied she stands.

The other—oh! I grieve to sayHow she would scream and run away,Soon as she saw her mother stand,With water by, and sponge in hand.She'd kick and stamp, and jump about,And set up such an awful shout,That one who did not know the child,Would say she must be going wild.

In consequence it came to pass,While one was quite a pretty lass,And many a fond admirer gained,And many a little gift obtained;

The other, viewed with general scorn,Was left forsaken and forlorn;For no one can endure to seeA child all dirt and misery.Behold how needful 'tis that weShould clean in dress and person be;Or else, believe me, 'tis in vainWe hope affection to obtain.

A sloven will be always viewedWith pity by the wise and good;While ev'n the vicious and the baseBehold with scorn a dirty face.

Now Minnie was a pretty girl,Her hair so gracefully did curl;She had a slender figure, too,And rosy cheeks, and eyes of blue.And yet, with all those beauties rare,Those angel eyes and curly hair,Oh! many, many faults had she,The worst of which was jealousy.When on the brilliant Christmas treeSt. Nicholas hung his gifts so free,The envious Minnie could not bearWith any one those gifts to share.And when her sisters' birthdays cameMinnie (it must be told with shame)Would envy every pretty thingWhich dear Mamma to them would bring.

Sometimes great tears rolled from her eyes,Sometimes she pierced the air with cries,For hours together she would fretBecause their toys she could not get.Ah, then! how changed this pretty child,No longer amiable and mild.That fairy form and smiling faceLost all their sprightliness and grace.Her tender mother often sighed,And to reform her daughter tried.“Oh! Minnie, Minnie,” she would say,“Quite yellow you will turn some day.”

Now came the merry Christmas feast;St. Nicholas brought to e'en the leastSuch pretty presents, rich and rare,But all the best for Minnie were.Now to her little sister BessSt. Nicholas brought a yellow dress;This Minnie longed for (envious child),And snatched it from her sister mild.Then all in tears did Bessie runTo tell her mother what was done.

Then Minnie ran triumphantlyTo try the dress on, as you see.But Minnie was not satisfied,She pouted, fretted, sulked, and cried;Sisters and brothers had no rest,—She vowed their presents were the best,And springing quickly to the glass,What saw she there? Alas! alas!Oh! what a sad, such deep disgrace!She found she had a yellow face.“Ah, me!” she cried, now, in despair,“Where are my rosy cheeks—oh, where?”Exclaimed her mother, “Now you seeThe punishment of jealousy.”

Oh! how this Mary loved to eat,—It was her chief delight;She would have something, sour or sweet,To munch from morn till night.She to the pantry daily stole,And slyly she would takeSugar, and plums, and sweetmeats, too,And apples, nuts, and cake.

Her mother Mary oft reproved,But, ah! it did no good;Munch, nibble, chew, from morn to night,The little glutton would.

One day, upon some bee-hives nearShe chanced to cast her eyes;“How nice that honey there must taste!”She cried, and off she flies.On tiptoe now the hives she nears,Close up to them she creeps,And through the little window panesQuite cautiously she peeps.“Oh, dear! how good it looks!” she cries,As she the honey sees;“I must, I will, indeed, have some;It cannot hurt the bees.”And then a hive she gently lifts,—Oh, foolish, foolish child,—Down, down it falls—out swarm the beesBuzzing with fury wild.With fright she shrieks, and tries to run,But ah! 'tis all in vain;Upon her light the angry bees,And make her writhe with pain.

Four weeks and more did Mary lieUpon her little bed,And, ah! instead of honey, sheOn medicine was fed.Her parents grieved so much at firstTheir child so sick to see;But once more well, with joy they foundHer cured of gluttony.

Inever saw a girl or boySo prone as Sophie to destroyWhate'er she laid her hands upon,Though tough as wood, or hard as stone;With Sophie it was all the same,No matter who the thing might claim,No matter were it choice or rare,For naught did the destroyer care.Her playthings shared the common lot;Though hers they were, she spared them not,Her dolls she oft tore limb from limb,To gratify a foolish whim.

“Fie!” said her mother, “don't you know,That if you use your playthings so,Kriss Kringle will in wrath refuseTo give you what you might abuse?Remember, how in times gone by,You've always found a rich supplyOf Christmas presents; but beware,You'll find no more another year.”

You'd think such words would surely tendTo make this child her ways amend.But no; she still her course pursued,Regardless of advice so good.But when her mother sees 'tis plainThat all her arguments are vain,Says she, “Since I have done my best,I'll let experience do the rest.”Meantime the season of the yearFor Christmas gifts was drawing near,And Sophie doubted not that sheAn ample store of them would see.At length the happy hour was come.The children, led into the room,Behold, with wonder and surprise,Three tables set before their eyes.One is for Nelly, one for Ned,And both with choicest treasures spread.

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