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Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1 Written And Compiled By E.W. Cole (1832-1918) First Published 1879 By Cole Publications, Melbourne, Australia. 73rd Edition Totalling 920,000 copies. [[*]] |
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COLE'S Funny Picture Book No. 1 Or Family Amuser And Instructor; To Delight The Children And Make Home Happier; The Best Child's Picture Book In All The World. It Contains Also Choice Riddles, Games and pieces of reading for Adults. Look through it yourself. Long ago the Rainbow was a Sign it is said, Now 'tis the Sign of Cole's Book Arcade. So, when in the sky a bow is displayed, Be sure that you think of the Book Arcade. Cole's Book Arcade strange as it looks, Contains more than a million books. New and second-hand, common and rare, Can get most any book you want there. |
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[[*]] BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE: The reprintings of this book since Cole's death in 1918 have involved very few changes, and in most cases it has been bibliographically misleading to term them "editions". Undoubtedly, somewhere in the past, the distinction between a "printing" and an "edition" has not been understood. However, with due cognisance of the irregularity, the practice of giving each reprint a new edition number accompanied by a running sales total is being maintained for statistical interest. |
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Edward William Cole Born Woodchurch, Kent, England 4th January, 1832 Died Essendon, Victoria, Australia 16th December, 1918 |
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Page 1—Australia
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Australia Is The Best Country On Earth Australia a Grand Country I think that Australia, for it's size, is, all-round, the best country in the world. It's climate is pleasant and health-giving. It has no desolating blizzards, no frost bites, and few sunstrokes. In edible produce, for both size and quality, it stands very high, if not the highest. I have been in many lands, but never saw a country supply such a variety of products as Australia does—potatoes, onions, cabbages, carrots, peas, beans and scores of other vegetables in abundance. In fruits it produces apples, pears, plums, peaches, oranges, grapes, and Northern Australia also produces all the tropical fruits in abundance wherever cultivated. In corn Australia produces superior wheat, oats, barley, maize and all other kinds in abundance, especially when scientifically irrigated. As a milk, butter and meat country, it is one of the best in the world. It is the largest and best wool-producing country in the world. It contains the largest area in the world especially suitable for growing cotton, the most extensively-used clothing material. Flowers grow luxuriantly and beautifully whenever cultivated and watered. A few years ago when writing on the "White Australia" question, I stated that with high culture, water irrigation, and scientific irrigation, Australia was capable of supporting 400 millions of inhabitants. A high literary authority, in reviewing the book, remarked that this seemed like a "gross exaggeration"; but probably he had not thought so much on the subject as I had. I will here concisely state the principle reasons for my opinion. The great want of Australia, to make it amazingly fruitful, is the complete conservation of water and it's scientific application to the soil. Water, warmth, and soil will grow anything in Australia, if rationally managed. Australia has abundance of water now running to waste. On thousands of house-roofs water enough is caught for the domestic use of the respective families. Over large areas of the country there are 30 inches of rainfall, and the average rainfall over vast areas is 24 inches, and could be made much greater by cultivation. Four-fifths of this water now runs to waste. Again surface-parched Australia has vast areas of underground water which only require to be tapped and brought to the surface, to irrigate and fertilise the soil. Australia is also a country where timber grows well and fast, if planted in trenched ground and slightly irrigated. Hundreds of straight trees can be grown upon an acre of land if they are first planted thickly and some gradually thinned out. Many kinds of trees will grow upon very poor soil if they are properly planted and irrigated, as the bulk of their sustenance is derived from the air. One more remark about trees and their possibilities as food providers. Wherever any kind of tree will grow some kind of fruit tree will grow. There are hundreds of millions of gum trees growing in Australia. Where every one of these trees is, some kind of fruit tree would grow if properly planted and looked after. Again, to utilise Australia to it's full extent the whole world should be sought through for the best plants and trees of every kind, and only the very best grown, and those in situations and soil best adapted for them. One argument against Australia is that much of its surface is sandy, but experiments and developments in various countries show that the planting of marram grass, lupins, and other plants ties even the drifting sand together and gradually, through their decay, turns the sandy wastes into fertile soil. Besides, science can, in many other ways, utilise the elements in the air to enrich the soil. |
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Australia's Mineral Resources It has been objected that in the above epitome no mention is made of the great mineral wealth of Australia. The reason is that minerals, exceedingly useful as they are in the arts, are not absolutely necessary (with the exception perhaps of iron) to the feeding, clothing, and housing of mankind. Vast multitudes have lived without them; but it may be remarked that Australia is a country very rich in minerals; some hold it the richest in the world. It possesses immense deposits of iron not yet utilised, and the most extensive gold-fields yet discovered. Australia and Tasmania have, according to the latest estimate of our Commonwealth Statistician, produced minerals to the value of £660,252,694—comprising in round numbers, Gold £474,000,000; Tin £24,000,000; and other kinds £8,000,000. The bulk of the above has been produced during the last 60 years, in a population rising from about 300,000 to 4,000,000 and it forecasts how vast the mineral-producing future of Australia is likely to be. Altogether Australia is a country as highly favoured by nature as any other of equal size upon earth, for the bountiful production of useful animals, vegetables, minerals, and men. |
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The Best Country On Earth—Unknown
Australia "'If we Australians took as much trouble to prepare for our summer as the Canadians take to forestall their winter, Australia would be THE MOST PROSPEROUS COUNTRY ON EARTH.' The speaker was the Rev. A. R. Edgar, head of the Central Mission, Melbourne. "'After circling the globe, then, you are still satisfied that Australia is not a bad country to live in?' "'The best,' said Mr Edgar, emphatically. 'I have no hesitation in saying that Canada and America are not to be compared with Australia. Unfortunately, England doesn't know it. Australia herself doesn't half realise it, and as for America and Canada, they haven't the remotest ghost of a notion of it. In England they learn with regrettable slowness, and their knowledge is scanty indeed; but across the Atlantic the ignorance is deplorable. "Australia?" says the Canadian. "Oh yes! Let's see, that's the place where it's always droughty—yes, yes, to be sure, the place where y' can't get a drink of water." He laughs at the idea of Australia producing as much wool and wheat as Canada, and bluntly tells you there's no country on the face of the planet can grow wheat and wool like his. But the fact is, there isn't a bit of territory fit to compare with the Western District of Victoria, for example, and conditions are infinitely harder for the agriculturist than in Australia. Canada's western district is icebound in winter, and her eastern lands are strewn over with great boulders, between which the plough works laboriously in and out'."—From the "New Idea." I often feel for the dweller in Canada; for notwithstanding his beautiful spring and autumn he has six months of ice and snow and freezing winds, and I feel selfishly grateful that my lot is cast in more genial Australia. Let us well ponder Mr. Edgar's concise and forcible statement: "If we Australians took as much trouble to prepare for our summer as the Canadians take to forestall their winter, Australia would be the most prosperous country on earth." This is quite true. The Canadian must thoughtfully and rationally prepare for his winter, or he would freeze and starve. We have no frigid climate to prepare against, but we have possible drought, and our first and greatest consideration should be the conservation of water for irrigation. This water conservation is exceedingly important thing. Men do not think, and the waste is enormous. When the rain falls it runs into the gully, from the gully to the creek, from the creek to the river, from the river into the sea; and then in the dry season water is deplorably scarce. I once asked a young squatter from the New South Wales side of the Murray "Have you got a garden?" He answered: "No: it is too dry up our way!" I said, "How do you get water for domestic purposes?" He answered, "We catch it off the roof; we catch it in 11 tanks and are never out of a supply." I asked, "How large an area have all your roofs put together?" He answered, "I think about 20 feet by 100 feet." This would be about a twentieth of an acre. Now just reflect! One acre of rainfall would supply, if caught, 20 establishments like that squatter's home, for the rain would fall fairly alike over that part of the country. A rainfall of 30 inches over an acre of ground measures about 680,000 gallons and weighs about 3000 tons, the bulk of which is allowed to run away every year! A gentleman said to me the other day, "Since the water was brought to Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie, under Sir John Forrest's great scheme, they have very beautiful gardens right along the line of supply. Wherever the water touches the land the vegetation is splendid, and, what is more, the evaporation is bringing heavier rainfall." Of course, wherever cultivation and irrigation are carried on, more evaporation takes place, and, in most cases, causes additional rainfall. When I affirmed that Australia was capable of supporting 400 millions of people I did not mean Australia as we now have it, but as it might be, and probably will be, when water is carefully conserved and its soil scientifically irrigated and cultivated. E.W. Cole |
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Page 2—Cole's Funny Picture Book
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Page 3—Index
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This Is The Funniest Picture Book In The World For
Children If you search through the World you will not get a book that will so please a child, if you pay £100 or even £1000 for it. To parents, Grandparents, Uncles, Aunts, and Friends—Every Good Child should be given one of these Books for being Good. Every Bad Child should be given one to try to make it Good. |
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BABY RHYMES Baby Going to Bed [4] Baby, Getting up [5] This Pig Went to Market [6] Baby Riding [6] Naughty Baby [7] LITTLE CHILDREN'S STORIES Tom Thumb's Alphabet [8] Sing a Song-a-Sixpence [8] A Apple Pie [8] Captain Duck [8] Hey-Diddle-Diddle [9] GIRL LAND Cry-Baby Belle [10] A Naughty Little Girl [10] Paulina Pry [10] Tearful Annie [10] Hattie's Birthday [11] Youth and Age [11] A Lost Child [11] Little Mary [11] Girl and Angel [11] Girl Who Wouldn't go to Bed [12] Girl That Beat Her Sister [12] The Sulky Girl [12] Girl Who Sucked Her Fingers [12] The Greedy Little Girl [12] Girl Who Played With Fire [12] The Vulgar Little Lady [12] Peggy Won't [13] The Wonderful Shadows [13] Little Bo-Peep [14] Pammy Was A Pretty Girl [14] The Little Husband [14] I'm Governess [14] Meddlesome Matty [15] Girl Who Spilled the Ink [15] Girl Who Was Always Tasting [15] Sally the Lazy Girl [15] Girl Who Wouldn't Comb Her Hair [15] The Nasty Cross Girls [15] Little Red Riding Hood [16] I'm Grandmama [16] The Babes in the Wood [16] Cinderella [17] The Three Bears [17] Bluebeard [17] My Girl [18] My Little Daughter's Shoes [18] The Old Cradle [18] A Little Goose [18] Girls [19] Girls Names [19] Vain Sarah [19] Several Kinds of Girls [19] Jumping Jennie [20] I Don't Care [20] Little Miss Meddlesome [20] Careless Matilda [20] Forty Little School Girls [21] Funny Monkeys [21] Tangle Pate [22] A Careless Girl [22] The Naughty Girl [22] Mopy Maria [22] Disobedient May [22] Sluttishness [22] Jane Who Bit Her Nails [22] Poking Fun [22] The Pin [23] Stupid Jane [23] Pouting Polly [23] Untidy Emily [23] Maidenhood [24] Girls That Are in Demand [24] Girls' Names [24] Name of Kate [24] Girl-Scolding Machine [25] Jenny Lee [26] Work Before Play [26] Lucy Grey [26] Mary Had a Little Lamb [26] We Are Seven [27] The poor But Blind Girl [27] Grace Darling [27] The Tidy Girl [27] Ruby Cole [28] BOY LAND Vally Cole [29] Tom The Piper's Son [30] House That Jack Built [31] Simple Simon [31] Ten Little Niggers [31] Jack the Giant Killer [32] Jack and the Beanstalk [32] Hop-o-my-Thumb [33] Tom Thumb [33] Naughty Boys [34] Dirty Jack [35] Mischievous Fingers [35] Boy Stealing Apples [35] Playing With Fire [35] Wicked Willie [36] Rude, Bad, Naughty Boy [36] Little Chinky Chow [37] That Nice Boy [38] A Wicked Joking Boy [38] Jack the Glutton [39] Tom the Dainty Boy [39] A birds Nest Robber [39] A Cruel Boy [39] Boy Whipping Machine [40] - [41] DOLLY LAND Puss's Doll [42] Pretty Doll [42] Dolly and I [43] Dolly's Broken Arm [43] Polly and Her Dolly [43] Singing to Dolly [44] My Dolly [44] Dolly's Asleep [44] Lost Dolly [45] Talking To Dolly [45] Darling Dolly [45] Ten Little Dollies [46] Washing-Day Troubles [47] New Tea Things [47] Doll Dress Making [48] Dolly Town [48] The Lost Doll [48] Dolly's Counterpane [48] Sewing For Dolly [48] My Little Doll Rose [48] The Wooden Doll [48] Buy My Dolls [48] Dolly's Doctor [49] Dolly's Broken Nose [49] The Dead Dolly [49] The Soldier Dolly [49] Christening Dolly [50] Maggie's Talk to Dolly [50] Minnie's Talk to Dolly [50] |
My Dolly
[50] Dolly's Wedding [50] Grandmamma's Visit [51] Lucy's Dolls [51] The Doll Show [52] A Doll's Adventures [53] Story of a Doll [53] I'm Homesick Dolly Dear [54] A Thousand Names For Dollies and Babies [55] , [56] , [57] NAUGHTINESS LAND Good Mamma [58] How They Made Up [58] Cross Patch [58] Sulky Sarah [58] A New Year's Gift [59] Angry Words [59] Love One Another [59] Anger [60] Girl That Beat Her Sister [60] Little Dick Snappy [60] Where Do You Live [61] Govern Your Temper [61] The Ragged Girl's Sunday [62] Foolish Fanny [62] Pride [63] Finery [63] A Fop [63] Greedy Ned [64] Greedy Girl [64] Greedy Richard [64] Story Of an Apple [64] The Plum Cake [65] The Glutton [65] Hoggish Henry [65] Selfishness [65] Truthful Dottie [66] False Alarms [66] Girl That Told A Lie [66] Idle Mary [67] Lazy Sal [67] The Work Bag [67] The Two Gardens [67] Doing Nothing [67] Lazy Sam [68] The Beggar Man [68] Lazyland [68] The Lazy Boy [69] The Sluggard [69] Idle Dicky and the Goat [69] Come and Go [69] The Cruel Boy [70] Story of Cruel Fred [70] The Worm [70] No One Will See Me [71] Boy and His Mother [71] Boys and the Apple Tree [72] Thou Shalt Not Steal [72] The Thief [72] The Thieves' Ladder [73] SANTA CLAUS LAND Santa Claus Land [74] A Visit From St. Nicholas [75] What Santa Claus Brings [75] Little Mary [75] Christmas [75] Christmas Eve Adventure [76] Little Bennie [76] Old Santa Claus [77] Night Before Christmas [77] Annie and Willie's Prayer [78] Budd's Stocking [79] Christmas Morning [79] Nellie And Santa Claus [80] Hang Up Baby's Stocking [80] PLAY LAND Rabbit on the Wall [81] Little Romp [81] Tired of Play [82] The Lost Playmate [82] In The Toy Shop [83] Playing Store [83] Neat Little Clara [83] Hide and Seek [83] Little Sailors [84] Come Out to Play [84] Mud Pies [84] Hay Making [84] Johnny the Stout [85] Training Time [86] Playtime [87] Romping [87] Nurse's Song [87] Swinging [88] Skating [88] The skipping Rope [88] The Baby's Debut [89] READING LAND Reading [90] Mrs Grammar's Ball [90] Grammar in Rhyme [90] Reading Land [91] WRITING LAND Little Flo's Letter [92] The First Letter [92] Baby's Letter to Uncle [92] Nell's Letter [92] Two Letters [92] Going to Write to Papa [93] Papa's Letter [93] Polly's Letter to Ben [94] The Sunday Fisherman [95] Essay on Pictures [96] DRAWING LAND The New Slate [97] Learning to Draw [98] A Lesson in Drawing [99] OLD MEN TALES Old Man and His Wife [100] John Ball Shot Them All [100] Funny Old Man [100] Strange Men [100] Jack Sprat [101] Cross Old Man [101] Very Funny Men [101] Utter Nonsense [102] History Of John Gilpin [103] Australian Native Choir [104] OLD WOMEN TALES Woman Who Lived in a Shoe [106] Mother Goose [107] Old Women of Stepney [107] Funny Old Women [108] Old Woman Who Went Up in a Basket [108] Twenty-six Funny Women [109] |
TRAVELLING LAND Forty Ways of Travelling [110] - [113] Flying Machines [114] - [117] NAME LAND Boys' Names [118] Girls' Names [119] GAME LAND Cole's Game of Hats and Bonnets [120] - [123] Riddles and Catches [124] - [127] Picture Puzzles [128] - [143] Shadows on the Wall [144] Deaf and Dumb Alphabet [145] Language of Flowers [146] Kindness to Animals [147] Funny Australian Natives [148] - [149] PUSSY LAND My Pussy [150] Pussy-Cat and Mousey [150] Puss and the Monkey [150] Mary's Puss Drowned [150] Dame Trot's Puss [151] Daddy Hubbard's Cat [152] Story of a Little Mouse [153] Tom, Puss, and the Rats [154] Puss in Boots [155] Monkey and the Cats [155] Dick Whittington [155] More Pussy Land [156] The White Kitten [157] Little Pussy [158] Puss and the Crab [158] Puss in the Corner [159] Tabby [159] Old Puss [159] Dead Kitten [160] My Own Puss [161] Putting Kitty to Bed [161] DOGGY LAND Mother Hubbard and Dog [162] Puss and Rover [163] No Breakfast for Growler [163] Poor Old Tray [163] GOAT LAND O'Grady's Goat [164] The Goat and the Swing [164] MONKEY LAND Meddlesome Jacko [165] A Fruitless Sorrow [165] GEE-GEE LAND The Wonderful Horse [166] The Horse [166] Good Dobbin [166] Horse Sentenced to Die [167] The Arab and His Horse [167] Farmer John [168] DONKEY LAND The Cottager's Donkey [169] Old Jack the Donkey [169] Poor Donkey's Epitaph [169] MOO-MOO LAND The Cow and the Ass [170] The Cowboy's Song [171] That Calf [171] BA-BA LAND The Lost Lamb [172] The Pet Lamb [172] - [173] PIGGY LAND The Pig is a Gentleman [174] Five Little Pigs [174] The Self-willed pig [174] Three Naughty Pigs [175] The Spectre Pig [175] The Chinese Pig [176] Dame Crump and Her Pig [176] Old Woman and Her Pig [177] The Three Little Pigs [177] BUNNY LAND Disobedient Bunny [178] The Wild Rabbits [178] The Pet Rabbit [178] The Little Hare [179] The Poor Hunted Hare [179] Epitaph on a Hare [179] RAT LAND Pied Piper of Hamelin [180] Wicked Bishop Hatto [181] MOUSEY LAND The Three Mice [182] The Foolish Mouse [182] Run, Mousey, Run! [182] The Gingerbread Cat [182] A Clever Mother Mouse [183] The Mouse's Call [183] The Foolish Mouse [183] FROGGY LAND The Foolish Frogs [184] Marriage of Mr. Froggie [184] Frogs at School [184] Frog That Went a Wooing [185] Mixed Animal Land [186] - [187] The Squirrel [188] Wonderful Bird Nests [189] Cole's Poems on Books [190] COMIC ADVERTISER Serious Sambo [191] Laughter as a Medicine [191] Man Made to Laugh [191] Josh Billings' Prayer [191] Fun Better Than Physic [192] Fun About Music [193] Going to Coles' Book Arcade [194] - [195] Wonderful Sea Serpent [196] Funny, Foolish and Useful Fashions [197] - [201] Boy Smoking [202] - [203] Narcotics and Intoxicants [204] Pipes of the World [205] |
| READER—There are only 365 pieces mentioned in this index, but the Book contains 2,000 pieces and pictures, large and small. It is a complete cyclopoedia of child-lore, and first-class kindergarten book—to amuse and teach at the same time. No child's book ever published has been, nor is now, so great a favourite as this one. |
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Page 4—Baby Rhymes
A Piece of Poetry for Mother and Father to Read
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I suppose if all the children, Who have lived through ages long, Were collected and inspected They would make a wondrous throng. Oh the babble of the Babel! Oh, the flutter and the fuss; To begin with Cain and Abel, And to finish up with us! Some have never laughed nor spoken, Never used their rosy feet; Some have even flown to heaven, Ere they knew that earth was sweet. And indeed, I wonder whether, If we reckon every birth, And bring such a flock together, There is room for them on earth. Think of all the men and women Who are now and who have been; Every nation since creation That this world of ours has seen. And of all of them not any But was once a baby small; While of children, oh, how many Never have grown up at all. |
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Page 5—Baby Rhymes
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Who will wash their smiling faces? Who their saucy ears will box? Who will dress them and caress them? Who will darn their little socks? Where are arms enough to hold them? Hands to pat each smiling head? Who will praise them? who will scold them? Who will pack them off to bed? Little happy Christian children, Little savage children too, In all stages of all ages, That our planet ever knew; Little princes and princesses, Little beggars, wan and faint— Some in very handsome dresses, Naked some, bedaubed with paint. Only think of the confusion Such a motley crowd would make; And the clatter of their chatter, And the things that they won't break Oh the babble of the Babel! Oh, the flutter and the fuss; To begin with Cain and Abel, And to finish up with us! |
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Page 6—Children's Rhymes
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Children's Rhymes |
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1. This pig went to market: 2. This pig stayed at home: 3. This pig had meat: 4. This pig had none: 5. And this pig cried, "Wee, wee," all the way home. |
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Game of Child's Features Here sits the Lord Mayor! (forehead) Here sits his two men! (eyes) Here sits the cock! (right cheek) Here sits the hen! (left cheek) Here sit the little chickens! (tip of nose) Here they run in; (mouth) Chinchopper, chinchopper, Chinchopper, chin! (chuck the chin) |
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Face Game Ring the bell! (giving its hair a pull) Knock at the door! (tapping its forehead) Draw the latch! (pulling up it's nose) And walk in! (putting finger in mouth) |
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Face Game (Eye) Bo Peeper! (Nose) Nose dreeper! (Chin) Chinchopper! (Teeth) White Lopper! (Mouth) little gap! (Tongue) and red rag! |
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Game on the Toes 1. Let us go to the wood, says this pig; 2. What to do there? says that pig; 3. Too look for my mother, says this pig; 4. What to do with her? says that pig; 5. Kiss her to death, says this pig. |
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Going to Market To market, to market, to buy a fat pig; Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. To market, to market, to buy a fat hog; Home again, home again, joggety-jog. |
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Baby Riding Ride baby, ride, pretty baby shall ride, And have a little puppy-dog tied to her side. And a little pussy-cat tied to the other, And away she shall ride to see her grand-mother, To see her grandmother. |
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Ride a Cock-Horse Ride a cock-horse to banbury-cross, To see what Tommy can buy; A penny white loaf, a penny white cake, And a two-penny apple pie. Ride a cock-horse to banbury-cross, To see a young lady on a white horse, Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes, And so she makes music wherever she goes. |
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Baby Riding This is the way the ladies ride; Tre, tre, tree, This is the way the ladies ride; Tre, tre, tree. This is the way the gentlemen ride; Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot! This is the way the gentlemen ride; Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot! This is the way the farmers ride; Hobbledy-hobbledy-hoy! This is the way the farmers ride; Hobbledy-hobbledy-hoy! |
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Clap Hands Clap hands, clap hands, Till father comes home; For father's got money, But mother's got none. |
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When Dad Comes Home You shall have an apple, You shall have a plum, You shall have a rattle, When your dad comes home. |
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Pat-A-Cake Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man! So I will, master, as fast as I can, Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T, Put it in the oven for Tommy and me. |
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Come, Butter, Come Churn, butter, churn! come, butter, come! Peter stands at the gate, Waiting for a butter cake; Come, butter, come! |
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Baby Crying When Jacky's a very good boy, He shall have cakes and a custard; But when he does nothing but cry, He shall have nothing but mustard. |
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Page 7—Children's Rhymes
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Hickup, go away. Hickup, hickup, go away! Come again another day: Hickup, hickup, when I bake, I'll give to you a butter-cake. |
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Dance, Baby. Dance, little baby, dance up high, Never mind, baby, mother is nigh; Crow and caper, caper and crow— There, little baby, there you go! Up to the ceiling, down to the ground, Backwards and forwards, round and round. Dance, little baby, and mother will sing! Merrily, merrily, ding, dong, ding! |
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Dance, Little Baby. Dance to your daddy, My little babby, Dance to your daddy, My little lamb. You shall have a fishy In a little dishy; You shall have a fishy When the boat comes in. |
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Danty Baby Diddy. Danty baby diddy, What can a mammy do wid'e, But sit in a lap, And give 'un a pap? Sing danty baby diddy. |
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Hush-a-bye Baa Lamb. Hush-a-bye, a baa lamb, Hush-a-by a milk cow, You shall have a little stick To beat the naughty bow-wow. |
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Bye, Baby Bunting. Bye, baby bunting, Daddy's gone a hunting, To get a little rabbit skin To wrap a baby bunting in. |
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Hush-a-bye Baby. Hush-a-bye baby, on the tree top, When the wind blows, the cradle will rock; When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall; Down will come baby, bough, cradle, and all. Hush-a-bye baby, Daddy is near: Mammy's a lady, and that's very clear. |
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Rock-a-bye Baby. Rock-a-bye baby, thy cradle is green; Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen; And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring, And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king. |
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Kissing Baby. My dear cockadoodle, my jewel, my joy, My darling, my honey, my pretty, sweet boy; Before I do rock thee with soft lullaby, Give me thy dear lips to be kiss'd, kiss'd, kiss'd. |
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Good-night Baby Baby, baby, lay your head On your pretty cradle bed; Shut your eye-peeps, now the day And the light are gone away; All the clothes are tucked in tight, Little baby, dear, good night. |
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Lie still with Daddy. Hush thee, my babby, Lie still with thy daddy, Thy mammy has gone to the mill, To grind thee some wheat, To make thee some meat, And so, my babby, lie still. |
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Monkey feeding Baby. Oh, my lady! my lady! my lady! Here's that funny monkey Has put on your night-cap, And is feeding The baby! the baby! the baby! |
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Baby getting up Baby, baby ope your eye, For the sun is in the sky, And he's peeping once again Through the pretty window pane: Little baby, do not keep Any longer fast asleep. |
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Washing Baby's Hands Wash hands, wash, Daddy's gone to plough; If you want your hands wash'd, Have them washed now. |
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Combing Baby's Hair Comb hair, comb, Daddy's gone to plough; If you want your hair comb'd Have it combed now. |
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Baby Brother My pretty baby-brother Is six months old to-day, And though he cannot speak, He knows whate'er I say. Whenever I come near, He crows for very joy; And dearly do I love him, The darling baby-boy. |
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Baby He opens his mouth when he kisses you; He cries very loud when he misses you; He says "Boo! boo! boo!" for "How-do-you-do?" And he strokes down your face when he's loving you. |
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Learning to walk alone Come, my darling, come away, Take a pretty walk to-day; Run along, and never fear, I'll take care of baby dear; Up and down with little feet, That's the way to walk, my sweet. |
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See-Saw See-saw sacradown, Which is the way to London town, One foot up is the other down, That is the way to London town. |
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Naughty Baby Baby, baby Charlie, Naughty in his play, Slapping little Annie, Pushing her away. Patting with his soft hands, Laughing in his fun; Slapping with such good-will, That the tear-drops run. Do not cry, dear Annie, Wipe away the tear; Keep away from Charlie, Do not come so near, Or his little hands will Pull your curly hair; Peep at baby, Annie— Peep behind the chair. Kiss the baby, darling, Kiss the little one; He is only playing, In his baby fun. |
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Page 8—Little Children's Stories
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Tom Thumb's Alphabet A was an archer, who shot at a frog; B was a butcher, who had a great dog; C was a captain, all covered with lace; D was a drunkard, and had a red face; E was an esquire, with pride on his brow; F was a farmer, who followed the plough; G was a gamer, who had but ill luck; H was a hunter, and hunted a buck; I was an innkeeper, who loved to bouse; J was a joiner, and built up a house; K was King William, once governed this land; L was a lady, who had a white hand; M was a miser, and hoarded up gold: N was a nobleman, gallant and bold; O was an oyster girl, and went about town; P was a parson, and wore a black gown; Q was a queen, who wore a silk slip; R was a robber, and wanted a whip; S was a sailor, and spent all he got; T was a tinker, and mended a pot; U was an usurer, a miserable elf; V was a vintner, who drank all himself; W was a watchman, and guarded the door; X was expensive, and so became poor; Y was a youth, that did not love school; Z was a Zany, a poor harmless fool; |
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Sing a Song-a-Sixpence Sing a song-a-sixpence, A pocket full of rye; Four-and-twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie; When the pie was opened The birds began to sing: Was that not a dainty dish To set before the king? The king was in his counting-house, Counting out his money, The queen was in the parlour, Eating bread and honey; The maid was in the garden, Hanging out the clothes; Down came a blackbird, And snapt off her nose. |
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Old Chairs to Mend If I'd as much money as I could spend, I never would cry old chairs to mend; Old chairs to mend, old chairs to mend; I never would cry old chairs to mend. If I'd as much money as I could tell, I never would cry old clothes to sell; Old clothes to sell, old clothes to sell; I never would cry old clothes to sell. |
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Dad's gane to Ploo Cock-a-doodle-doo, My dad's gane to ploo; Mammy's lost her pudding-poke And knows not what to do. |
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Hot Cross Buns Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns! One a penny, two a penny, Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns! If you have no daughters, Give them to your sons. |
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Rabbit Pie Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit-pie! Come, my ladies, come and buy; Else your babies they will cry. |
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A—Apple-Pie A apple pie; B bit it; C cut it; D danced for it; E eat it; F fought for it; G got it; H had it; I ignored it; J jumped for it; K kept it; L longed for it; M mourned for it; N nodded at it; O opened it; P peeped in it; Q quartered it; R ran for it; S stole it; T took it; U uncovered it; V viewed it; W wanted it; X ax'ed for it; Y yawned for it: Z cried, "Zounds! let's eat it up." |
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Three Men in a Tub Rub a dub, dub, Three men in a tub; And who do you think they were? The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, They all came out of a rotten potato. |
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Dinner Hey ding a ding, what shall I sing? How many holes in a skimmer? Four-and-twenty, my stomach is empty; Pray mamma, give me some dinner. |
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The Barber Barber, barber, shave a pig, How many hairs will make a wig? "Four-and-twenty, that's enough," Give the barber a pinch of snuff. |
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Punch and Judy Punch and Judy fought for a pie; Punch gave Judy a blow on the eye. |
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Pease Pudding Pease pudding hot, Pease pudding cold, Pease pudding in the pot, Nine days old. |
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Porridge A little bit of powdered beef, And a great net of cabbage, The best meal I have to-day Is a good bowl of porridge. |
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Shaving The barber shaved the mason, As I suppose cut of his nose, And popp'd it in a basin. |
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Captain Duck I saw a ship a-sailing, A-sailing on the sea; And, oh! it was all laden With pretty things for thee. There were comfits in the cabin, And apples in the holds; The sails were made of silk, And the masts were made of gold. The four-and-twenty sailors That stood between the decks, Were four-and-twenty white mice, With chains about their necks. The captain was a duck, With a packet on his back; And when the ship began to move, The captain said "Quack quack!" |
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Little Tee Wee Little Tee Wee' he went to sea In an open boat; and while afloat The little boat bended, And my story's ended. |
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Page 9—Children's Rhymes
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Jack be Quick Jack be nimble, and Jack be quick; And Jack jump over the candle-stick. |
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Jack Sprat Jack Sprat had a cat, It had but one ear; It went to buy butter When butter was dear. |
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Jack Horner Little Jack Horner sat in the corner, Eating a Christmas Pie; He put in his thumb, and he took out a plum, And said, "What a good boy am I!" |
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Tom Tucker Little Tom Tucker Sings for his supper; What shall he eat? White bread and butter. How shall he cut it Without e'er a knife? How will he be married Without e'er a wife? |
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Georgie Porgie Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, Kissed the girls and made them cry. When the girls came out to play Georgie Porgie ran away. |
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See-Saw See-saw, Margery Daw, Little Jacky shall have a new master; Little Jacky shall have but a penny a day, Because he can't work any faster. |
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Little Lad Little lad, little lad, where wast thou born? Far off in Lancashire, under a thorn, Where they sup sour milk in a ram's horn. |
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Jack-a-Dandy Handy Spandy, Jack-a-dandy, Loved plum-cake and sugar-candy; He bought some at a grocer's shop, And out he came, hop, hop, hop. |
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My Son John Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John Went to bed with his stockings on; One shoe off, the other shoe on. Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John |
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Jack and Jill Jack and Jill went up the hill, To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after. |
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Who Can Draw Best Willie drew a little pig, Harry drew a mouse, Tommy drew a ladder tall Leaning on a house. |
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Baa, Baa Black Sheep Baa, baa, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes, marry have I, Three bags full: One for my master, And one for my dame, But none for the little boy Who cries in the lane. |
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Hey diddle diddle Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon; The little dog laughed to see such sport, And the dish ran after the spoon. |
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The Quaker's Version "Hey! diddle diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped under the moon; The little dog barked to see such sport And the cat ran after the spoon!" [*] |
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[*]
Our friend, the Quaker, holds that the last verse is the proper
one, as it is the truest; but the wonderful is taken out of it, and
children, accordingly, prefer the first. There is nothing wonderful
in the cow jumping "under" the moon, but there is in the cow jumping
"over" the moon, so with the black-birds baked in a pie. It is the
fact of their singing when the pie is opened that pleases the
children—'twas the wonder of the thing; so with the freaks of
Mother Hubbard's Dog, etc. In nearly all nursery rhymes it is the
ludicrous and wonderful that arrests the attention and pleases. E. W. Cole |
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Frightened Boy There was a little boy, went into a barn, And lay down on some hay; An owl came out, and flew about, And the little boy ran away. |
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Frightened Boys Tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee Resolved to have a battle, For tweedle-dum said tweedle-dee Had spoiled his nice new rattle. Just then flew by a monstrous crow, As big as a tar-barrel, Which frightened both the heroes so, They quite forgot their quarrel. |
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Baked in a Pie Baby and I Were baked in a pie, The gravy was wonderful hot; We had nothing to pay To the baker that day And so we crept out of the pot. |
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Maid not at Home High diddle doubt, my candle's out, My little maid is not at home; Saddle my hog, and bridle my dog, And fetch my little maid home. |
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Dame not at Home Rowsty dowt, my fire's all out, My little dame is not at home; I'll saddle my goose and bridle my hen, And fetch my little dame home again; Home she came, tritty trot; And asked for the porridge she left in the pot. |
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All in the Dumps We're all in the dumps, For diamonds are trumps; The kittens are gone to St. Paul's! The babies are bit, The moon's in a fit, And the houses are built without walls. |
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Hot Rolls Blow, wind, blow! and go, mill, go! That the miller may grind his corn; That the baker may take it, And into rolls make it, And send us some hot in the morn. Rosemary green, And lavender blue, Thyme and sweet marjoram, Hyssop and rue. |
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Bed Time Come, let's to bed, says Sleepy-head Tarry a while says Slow; Put on the pot, says Greedy-Jock, Let's sup before we go. |
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Go to Bed First Go to bed first, A golden purse; Go to bed second, A golden Pheasant; Go to bed third, A golden bird. |
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Page 10—Girl Land
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Cry-Baby Belle Cry-baby Belle Is always in tears Nothing you can give her can ease her! Sugar and spice, And everything nice, Kisses and cakes will not please her. She'll cry if she happens To get a slight fall, She'll cry if the naughty boys tease her; She'll cry for a spoon, And she'll cry for the moon; So there's no use in trying to please her. If the food set before her Don't happen to suit— Oh, then just as loud as she's able, This cry-baby Belle Will set up a yell, And scare all the folks at the table. If she wants to go out In the street she will cry; If she wants to come in how she screeches! For nothing at all She will set up and bawl, Unmindful of comforting speeches, She screams in the morning Because she's not dress'd; And at night when they want to undress her More loudly she'll roar, And roll over the floor As if she had pains to distress her. She cries when she's sick, And she cries when she's well, And often cries when she's sleeping, So that heavy and red, And most out of her head Are her eyes, on account of such weeping. She always is fretful, Unhappy, and cross, No matter what she may be doing, And cry-baby Belle Pleases nobody well Because of her constant boo-hooing. |
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For a Naughty Little Girl My sweet little girl should be careful and mild, And should not be fretful, and cry! Oh! why is this passion? remember, my child, God sees you, who lives in the sky. That dear little face, which I like so to kiss, How frightful and sad it appears! Do you think I can love you, so naughty as this, Or kiss you so wetted with tears? Remember, tho' God is in heaven, my love, He sees you within and without, And he always looks down from His glory above, To notice what you are about. If I am not with you, or if it be dark, And nobody is in the way, His eye is as able your doings to mark, In the night as it is in the day. Then dry up your tears, and look smiling again And never do things that are wrong; For I'm sure you must feel it a terrible pain, To be naughty, and crying so long. |
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Paulina Pry Paulina Pry Would eat nothing but pie; Pie was her daily diet; Apple or plum, She must have some Or else she wouldn't be quiet. She would not eat Any bread or meat, Though plenty of these were handy, But would pout and cry For a piece of pie, Or a stick of sugar-candy. They heard her cry In the Land of Pie, And sent her dozens and dozens, Both tender and tough, Till she'd had more than enough For her sisters, her aunts and her cousins. |
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Tearful Annie Poor little Annie, you will find, Is very gentle, good, and kind, But soon a a fault appears. The slightest thing will give her pain, Her feelings she can ne'er restrain, But gives way to her tears. The other day when Ferdinand— And if you search throughout the land, No nicer boy you'll find— Said something which he never meant To cause the slightest discontent, For hours she sobbed and whined. Her father grieved, said: "This must cease We never have a moment's peace, She cries both day and night." A portrait painter then he paid, To paint his little tearful maid, Crying with all her might. He set to work that very day, Directly he received his pay; The picture soon was done. Yes, there she was, all sobs and sighs, Large tear-drops streaming from her eyes. "How like!" said every one. It was in truth a great success; Quite perfect, neither more nor less; Her father was so glad. He hung the portrait in her room; It filled her with the deepest gloom; She felt annoyed and sad. With every relative who came, And saw the picture, 'twas the same, All startled with affright. Uncles, and aunts, and cousins too, Found it so striking, life-like, true That soon they took to flight. Annie not long could this endure; It brought about a speedy cure, She ceased to cry and moan. Her father ceased to scold and frown, He had the picture taken down, And in the garret thrown. |
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Page 11—Girl Land
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Hattie's Birthday Oh! This is a happy, beautiful world! My heart is light and gay; The birds in the trees sing blithely to me And I'm six years old to-day. Yes, six, and father has bought me a book, And mother, the sweetest doll, All dressed in white with blue eyes bright, And the nicest hat and shawl. My kitty sat quietly near the fire As Dolly and I came by; Miss Dolly bowed, and pussy meowed, And opened her yellow eye. Ah me! if Kit could only talk, And Dolly could but chat, We'd social be as any three— Talk, sing, and all of that. I dressed all up in grandma's cap, And put on her glasses too; "Why, Grandma!" I said, as I looked at myself, "I'm almost as old as you." My mother softly kissed my cheek, And then she blessed me too, Praying that I, as years went by, Might be as good and true. My birthday song is a merry one, And my heart is warm and light; Kind father, mother, and dear grandma, Sweet dolly and pussy, good night. |
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Youth and Age A funny thing I heard to-day, I might as well relate. Our Lil is six, and little May Still lacks a month of eight. And, through the open play-room door, I heard the elder say: "Lil, run downstairs and get my doll; Go quick, now—right away!" And Lillie said—(and I agreed That May was hardly fair):— "You might say 'please,' or go yourself— I didn't leave it there." "But, Lillie," urged the elder one, "Your little legs, you know, Are younger than mine are, child, And so you ought to go!" |
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Children "I would not be a girl," said Jack, "Because they have no fun; They cannot go a-fishing, nor A-shooting with a gun; They cannot climb up trees for fruit, Nor bathe without a bathing dress, Which is no fun at all." "I would not be a boy," said May, "For boys are nasty things, With pockets filled with hooks and knives, And nails, and tops and strings And when a boy becomes a man, He's got to buy girls rings;" |
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A Lost Child "I'm losted! Could you find me, please?" Poor little frightened baby! The wind had tossed her golden fleece, The stones had scratched her dimpled knees, I stooped and lifted her with ease, And softly whispered "Maybe." "Tell me your name, my little maid: I can't find you without it." "My name is Shiny-eyes," she said, "Yes; but your last name?" She shook her head: "Up to my house 'ey never said A single word about it." "But, dear," I said, "what is your name?" "Why, didn't you hear me told you? Dust Shiny-eyes." A bright thought came: "Yes, when you're good. But when they blame You little one,—is it just the same When mamma has to scold you?" "My mamma never scolds," she moans, A little blush ensuing, "'Cept when I've been a-frowing stones; And then she says (the culprit owns),— Mehitabel Sapphira Jones. What has you been a-doing?" Anna E. Burnham |
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Little Mary Here stands little, little Mary, With her face of winning grace, Chattering tongue that runs apace, And her ways contrary Who so gay as Mary? With her laughs of rippling glee Brimming o'er with melody,— Bonny, blithesome Mary. Household pet is Mary— Such a merry, joyous sprite, Filling all our home with light— Pretty winsome Mary! Mischief-loving Mary, Busy as the busiest bee, Full of sunshine, life, and glee Is our heart's sweet Mary! |
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Girl and Angel As Peter sat at Heaven's gate A maiden sought permission, And begged of him, if not too late, To give her free admission. "What claim hast thou to enter here?" He cried with earnest mien. "Please sir," said she, 'twixt hope and fear, "I'm only just sixteen!" "Enough," the hoary guardian said, And the gate wide open threw. "That is the age when every maid Is girl and angel too." |
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Page 12—Naughty Girls
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Girl Who Wouldn't Go to Bed Once I knew a little girl, Who wouldn't go to bed, And in the morning always had A very sleepy head. At night she'd stop upon the stairs, And hold the railings tight Then with a puff she'd try to blow Out Mary Ann's rushlight. The bed at last they tuck'd her in, The light she vow'd to keep; Left in the dark she roar'd and cried; Till tired she went to sleep. |
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Little Girl that Beat her Sister Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss Your little sister dear; I must not have such things as this, Nor noisy quarrels here. What! little children scold and fight Who ought to be so mild; Oh! Mary, 'tis a shocking sight To see an angry child. I can't imagine for my part, The reason of your folly, As if she did you any hurt By playing with your dolly. |
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Children Should not Quarrel Let dogs delight to bark an bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight: For 'tis their nature to. But children you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes. |
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The Sulky Girl Why is Mary standing there, Leaning down upon the chair, With pouting lip and frowning brow? I wonder what's the matter now. Come here, my dear, and tell me true, Is it because I spoke to you About what you just now had done, That you are such a naughty one? When, then, indeed, I'm grieved to see That you can so ill-tempered be: You make your faults a great deal worse By being sulky and perverse. Oh! how much better it appears, To see you melting into tears, And then to hear you humbly say, "I'll not do so another day!" |
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The Little Girl that did not Like to be
Washed What! cry when I wash you! not love to be clean? There, go and be dirty, unfit to be seen; And till you leave off, and I see you have smiled, I'll not take the trouble to wash such a child. |
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The Girl who Sucked her Fingers A little girl, named Mary Kate, Whom you may have chance to see, Would have been loved by small and great, But for one thing, which I'll relate; So listen now to me. A silly habit she's acquired Of putting in her mouth, The pretty fingers of her hand, And sucking them, for hours she'd stand, In a manner most uncouth. Her play-companions used to laugh, And jeeringly would say, "Oh, pray bring Mary Kate some crumbs, Poor thing! she's dining off her thumbs, She'll eat them all away." |
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Girl Stealing Treacle This is Nelly Pilfer; I'll tell you what she earned By stealing off the treacle When Mary's back was turned. They caught the greedy Nelly With treacle on her hand, They put her in the corner, And there they made her stand. |
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The Girl who Soiled her Clothes Little Polly Flinders, Sat among the cinders, Warming her pretty toes; Her mother came and caught her, And scolded her little daughter, For spoiling her nice new clothes. |
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The Greedy Little Girl I knew a greedy little girl, Who all day long did roar; Whatever toys were given her, She always wanted more. Five dolls she had—one was black, A ball and battledore, But held them all so very tight, The roar'd and scream'd for more. Now this was wicked of the child, As everyone must own; So for the whole of one long day They shut her up alone. |
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The Girl Who Played with Fire Mamma, a little girl I met, Had such a scar, I can't forget! All down her arms and neck and face; I could not bear to see the place. Poor little girl! and don't you know The shocking trick that made her so? 'Twas all because she went and did A thing her mother had forbid. For once, when nobody was by her, This silly child would play with fire; And long before her mother came, Her pinafore was all in flame. In vain she tried to put it out, Till all her clothes were burnt about; And then she suffer'd ten times more, All over with a dreadful sore. For many months before 'twas cured, Both day and night the pain endured; And still you see, when passing by her, How sad it is to play with fire. |
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Little Miss Consequence Little Miss Consequence strutted about, Turned up her nose, pointed her toes, And thought herself quite a grand person, no doubt. Gave herself airs; took many cares, To appear old; was haughty and cold. She spoke to the servants like a dog or a cat And fussed about this, and fussed about that. |
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The Vulgar Little Lady "But, mamma, now," said Charlotte, "pray don't you believe That I'm better than Jenny my nurse? Only see my red shoes, and the lace on my sleeve; Her clothes are a thousand times worse. "I ride in my coach, and have nothing to do. And the country folks stare at me so; And nobody dares to control me but you, Because I'm a lady, you know. "Then servants are vulgar and I am genteel; So, really, 'tis out of the way, To think that I should not be better a deal Than maids, and such people as they." "Gentility, Charlotte," her mother replied, "Belongs to no station or place; And nothing's so vulgar as folly and pride, Though dressed in red slippers and lace. "Not all the fine things that fine ladies possess Should teach them the poor to despise; For 'tis in good manners, and not in good dress, That the truest gentility lies." |
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Page 13—Naughty Girls
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Peggy Won't "I won't be dressed, I won't, I won't!" Cried Peggy one morn to mamma. "Very well, dear," was quietly said, "I'll teach you how silly you are." Peggy then frowned and set her lips Expecting a kiss as of old, But mother had gravely walked away, And Peggy was getting so cold. The minutes passed, and Peggy sighed, For thoughts of her breakfast arose, And "Mammy, dear," she loudly wept, While stamping her bare little toes. Then mother came, and firmly said, "I'm taking you, dear, at your word; 'I won't be dressed—I won't, I won't!' Has many times lately been heard. "So now to bed, my little maid, For you will not be dressed to-day; Then Peggy will be taught to think Before acting in such a way." Oh, for the tears that Peggy shed! But now every morn, I am told, A wee young maid is quietly dressed, And is always as good as gold. |
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The Shadows "Mamma! I see something Quite dark on the wall;— It moves up and down, And it looks very strange! Sometimes it is large, And sometimes it is small; Pray, tell me what it is, And why does it change?" "It is Mamma's shadow That puzzles you so, And there is your own Close beside it, my love! Now run round the room, It will go where you go; It rests where you sit, When you rise it will move. "These wonderful shadows Are caused by the light From fire and from candles Upon us that falls; If we were not here, All that place would be bright, But light can't shine Through us to lighten the wall. "And when you are out Some fine day in the sun, I'll take you where shadows Of apple-trees lie; And houses and cottages too— Every one Repose on their shadows Beneath the bright sky. "Now hold up your mouth, And give me a sweet kiss; Our shadows kiss too!— Don't you see it quite plain?" "O yes! and I thank you For telling me this, I'll not be afraid Of a shadow again." Mary Lundie |
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Page 14—Naughty Girls
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Little Bo-Peep Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep, And can't tell where to find them; Leave them alone, and they'll come home And bring their tails behind them. Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep, And dreamed she heard them bleating, But when she awoke, 'twas all a joke— Alas! they still were fleeting. Then up she took her little crook, Determined for to find them; She found them, indeed, bit it made her heart bleed, They'd left their tails behind them. It happened one day, as Bo-Peep did stray Over the meadows hard by, That there she espied their tails side by side, All hung on a tree to dry. She heaved a sigh, and gave by-and-by Each careless sheep a banging; And as for the rest, she thought it was best Just to leave their tails a-hanging. |
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Mary's Little Lamb Mary had a little lamb Whose fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went That Lamb it would not go; So Mary took that little Lamb And put it on the spit, And soon it was so nicely done She ate it every bit. |
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Pemmy Pemmy was a pretty girl, But Fanny was a better; Pemmy look'd like any churl, When little Fanny let her. Pemmy had a pretty nose, But Fanny had a better; Pemmy oft would come to blows, But Fanny would not let her. Pemmy had a pretty song, But Fanny had a better; Pemmy would sing all day long, But Fanny would not let her. |
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Little Husband I had a little husband, No bigger than my thumb; I put him in a pint pot, And there I bid him drum. I bought a little horse, That galloped up and down; I bridled him, and saddled him, And sent him out of town. I gave him some garters, To garter up his hose, And a little handkerchief, To wipe his pretty nose. |
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I'm Governess Now children dear, you all come near And do not make a noise; But listen here, just take and clear That desk of all those toys. For now I'm Governess you'll find, That its myself will make you mind; So Alice Brown you do your sum, And Betty Snooks don't look so glum. And Sarah White sit down at once, And Susan Black you are a dunce, And Annie Grey you needn't think I didn't see you spill the ink. And find your thimble Maggie More, And mind your sewing Jennie Shore; And Linda Cole you know 'tis wrong To make a stitch two inches long. |
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And you Kate Ross, stop pinching there, Don't scratch! nor pull your sister's hair; And you, you naughty Lucy Moyes, Must not be talking to the boys. And Bridget Mace don't make that face; And Norah Finn keep your tongue in. Don't be a Tom-boy Emma Pyke, You really must act lady-like. Now I want all good children in my school, Don't want a single dunce, bad girl or fool, So I will kindly ask you to be brave, And try to very, very well behave. Yes all be good and learn your lessons well, And then I'll ring the little bell to tell That school is over for the day, And you can all run out to play. |
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Little Governess Little Nellie Nipkin, brisk, and clean, and neat, Keeps a little baby-school in the village street; Teaches little pupils all that she can find, And keeps a little birch that teaches them to mind. |
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My Mamma's Maid Dingty diddledy, My mamma's maid, She stole oranges, I'm afraid; Some in her pockets, some in her sleeve, She stole oranges, I believe. |
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My Dolly I have a little doll, I take care of her clothes; She has soft flaxen hair, and her name is Rose. She has pretty blue eyes, and a very small nose, And a funny little mouth, and her name is Rose. |
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Tommy Snooks As Tommy Snooks and Bessy Brooks Were walking out one Sunday, Says Tommy Snooks to Bessy Brooks, "To-morrow will be Monday." |
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Little Betty Blue Little Betty Blue, lost her left shoe, What can little Betty do? Give her another, to match the other, And then she may walk in two. |
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Cross Patch Cross patch, draw the latch, Sit by the fire and spin; Take a cup, and drink it up, Then call your neighbours in. |
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Jumping Joan Hinx, minx! the old witch winks, The fat begins to fry; There's nobody at home but jumping Joan, Father, mother, and I. |
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Princess Lost Her Shoe Doodle, doodle, doo, The Princess lost her shoe; Her highness hopp'd The fiddler stopp'd Not knowing what to do. |
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Hobble Gobble The girl in the lane that couldn't speak plain, Cried "Gobble, gobble, gobble;" The man on the hill that couldn't stand still, Went "Hobble, hobble, hobble." |
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Our Girl's Rabbits Mary, Kate, and Maria went down as agreed, To the hutch in the garden, the rabbits to feed; There was the mother, a steady old bunny, Moving her nose in a manner so funny. A young rabbit also, tho' seeming to dose, Kept munching his breakfast and moving his nose; Mary, Kate, and Maria gave the rabbits some food, And lovingly stroked them because they were good. |
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Page 15—Naughty Girls
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Meddlesome Matty One ugly trick has often spoiled The sweetest and the best; Matilda, though a pleasant child, One ugly trick possessed, Which, like a cloud before the skies, Hid all her better qualities. Sometimes she'd lift the teapot lid To peep at what was in it; Or tilt the kettle, if you did But turn your back a minute. In vain you told her not to touch— Her trick of meddling grew so much. Her grandma went out one day, And by mistake she laid Her spectacles and snuff-box gay Too near the little maid; "Ah! well," thought she, "I'll try them on, As soon as grandmamma is gone," Forthwith she placed upon her nose The glasses large and wide; And looking round, as I suppose, The snuff box she too spied: "Oh! what a pretty box is that; I'll open it." said little Matt. "I know grandmamma would say, 'Don't meddle with it, dear;' But then she's far enough away, And no one else is near; Besides, what can there be amiss In opening such a box as this?" So thumb and finger went to work To move the stubborn lid; And presently a mighty jerk The mighty mischief did; For all at once, ah! woeful case, The snuff came puffing in her face. Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth beside, A dismal sight presented; In vain, as bitterly she cried, Her folly she repented. In vain she ran about for ease; She could do nothing now but sneeze. She dashed the spectacles away, To wipe her tingling eyes; And as in twenty bits they lay, Her grandmamma she spies. "Heyday! and what's the matter now?" Says grandmamma, with lifted brow. Matilda, smarting with the pain, And tingling still and sore, Made many a promise to refrain From meddling evermore. And 'tis a fact, as I have heard, She ever since has kept her word. |
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The Girl who Spilled the Ink "Oh! Lucy! Fanny! Make haste here! Mamma will be so vexed, I fear, For I've upset the ink! See, on my frock and pinafore, Such great black stains! And there are more Upon my socks, I think." And Lucy cries, with open eyes, And hands extended in surprise, "Oh, naughty Mary Ann, Those stains can never be washed out; Whatever have you been about? Look at her, sister Fan!" Mamma comes in: "Heyday! what's this? Why, Mary Ann, I told you, Miss, The inkstand ne'er to move; And little girls who won't obey, And mind each word their parents say, Good people ne'er will love." |
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The Naughty Girl A naughty girl had got no toy, And didn't know what to do, So she rumpled her frock And tore her sock, And tried to eat her shoe. |
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The Girl who was Always Tasting Little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside, Was known as a taster, far and wide; Picking and licking, spying and prying, Each bottle and dish with her fingers trying. Dangerous practice! dreadful little fact is! Once almost poisoned, and very near dying. Little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside, Has got some poison in paper tied; Harmless she deems it, yes, she must taste, Like sugar seems it, ah! but 'tis paste. Rat's-bane, the mixture. Oh! woe the day! Run for the doctor, bid him not stay. Dreadful her anguish—nearly she died, Did little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside. |
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Children Stealing Jam Four naughty little children thought Some jam they'd try and steal; But see how nicely they were caught With a crash that made them squeal. Their mother who was just next door, And heard the horrid noise, Came in and shook those naughty girls, And whipped those naughty boys. |
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Sally, the Lazy Girl Her sister would come to the bedside and call, "Do you mean to sleep here all the day?" I saw Kitty Miles up two hours ago, A-washing and working away. "The water is boiling, the table is spread, Your father is just at the door; If you are not quick, we shall eat all the bread, And you will not find any more." Then Sally sat up and half opened her eyes, And gave both a grunt and a groan; And yawning she said, in a quarrelsome voice, "I wish you would let me alone." But though she was lazy, she always could eat, And wished for a plentiful share, So tumbled her clothes on, and smeared her white face, Forgetting her hands and her hair. Her frock was all crumpled and twisted away, Her hair was entangled and wild, Her stockings were down and her shoes were untied, She looked a most slovenly child. She sauntered about till the old village clock Had sounded and then died away, Before she put on her torn bonnet and went To school without further delay. But soon as she came to the little cake shop, She loitered with lingering eyes, Just wishing that she had a penny to spend, For one of the pretty jam pies. Again she went on, and she loitered again In the same foolish way as before, And the clock in the school was just warning for ten, As she lifted the latch of the door. The governess frowned as she went to her place, She had often so spoken in vain, And now only said, with a sorrowful sigh, "There's Sally the latest again!" She hated her reading, and never would write, She neither could cypher nor sew, And little girls whispered, "We never will be So silly as Miss Sally Slow." |
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Girl who Wouldn't Comb her Hair I tell you of a little girl, who would herself have been, As pretty a young lady as ever could be seen, But that about her little head she had no cleanly care. And never, never could be made to brush and comb her hair. |
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She would have been a pretty child, But, oh! she was a fright— She looked just like a girl that's wild, Yes, quite as ugly, quite; She looked just like a girl that's wild— A frightful ugly sight. |
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The Nasty, Cross Girls The school was closed one afternoon, And all the girls were gone; Some walked away in company, And some walked on alone. Some plucked the flowers upon the banks, Some chatted very fast, And some were talking secretly, And whispered as you passed. And if, perchance, a girl came near, Then one of these would say, "Don't listen to our secrets, Miss, You'll please to go away." As Nelly White ran home from school, Her work-bag in her hand, She chanced to pass near Lucy Bell, And her friend Susan Brand. "We don't want you," said Lucy Bell, "You little tiresome chit; Our secrets are not meant for you, You little tell-tale-tit." Then both girls cried, "Tell-tale-tit," And pushed her roughly by; Poor Nelly said, "I'm no such thing," And then began to cry. |
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Page 16—Girl's Stories
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Little Red Riding Hood Once upon a time there was a dear little girl whose mother made her a scarlet cloak with a hood to tie over her pretty head; so people called her (as a pet name) "Little Red Riding-Hood." One day her mother tied on her cloak and hood and said, "I wish you to go to-day, my darling, to see your grandmamma, and take her a present of some butter, fresh eggs, a pot of honey, and a little cake with my love." Little Red Riding-Hood loved her grandmother, and was very glad to go. So she ran gaily through the wood, gathering wild flowers and gambolling among the ferns as she went; and the birds all sang their sweetest songs to her, and the bluebells nodded their pretty heads, for everything loved the gentle child. By and by a great hungry Wolf came up to her. He wished to eat her up, but as he heard the woodman Hugh's axe at work close by, he was afraid to touch her, for fear she should cry out and he should get killed. So he only asked her where she was going. Little Red Riding-Hood innocently told him (for she did not know he was a wicked Wolf) that she was going to visit her grandmother, who lived in a cottage on the other side of the wood. Then the Wolf made haste, and ran through the wood, and came to the cottage of which the child had told him. He tapped at the door. "Who's there?" asked the old woman, who lay sick in bed. "It is Little Red Riding-Hood, Grandmamma," answered the Wolf in a squeaky tone, to imitate the voice of her grandchild. "Pull the string, and the latch will come up," said the old lady, "for I am ill and cannot open the door." The cruel Wolf did so, and, jumping on the bed, ate the poor grandmother up. Then he put on her night-cap and got into bed. By and by Little Red Riding-Hood, who had lingered gathering flowers as she came along, and so was much later than the Wolf, knocked at the door. "Who's there?" asked the Wolf, mimicking her grandmother's voice. "It is Little Red Riding-Hood, dear Grandmamma," said the child. "Pull the string and the latch will come up," said the Wolf. So Red Riding-Hood came in, and the Wolf told her to put down her basket, and come and sit on the bed. When Little Red Riding-Hood drew back the curtain and saw the Wolf, she began to be rather frightened and said, "Dear Grandmamma, what great eyes you have got!" "All the better to see you with, my dear," said the Wolf, who liked a grim joke. "And what a large nose you have, Grandmamma!" cried the child. "All the better to smell you with, my dear." "And, oh! Grandmamma, what long white teeth you have!" Alas! she reminded the greedy Wolf of eating. "All the better to eat you with!" he growled; and, jumping out of bed, sprang at Red Riding-Hood. But just at that moment Hugh the woodman, who had seen the sweet child go by, and had followed her, because he knew there was a Wolf prowling about the forest, burst the door open, and killed the wicked animal with his good axe. Little Red Riding-Hood clung round his neck and thanked him, and cried for joy; and Hugh took her home to her mother; and after that she was never allowed to walk in the greenwood by herself. It was said at first that the Wolf had eaten the child, but that was not the case; and everybody was glad to hear that the first report was not correct, and that the Wolf had not really killed Little Red Riding-Hood. |
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Little Miss Jewel Little Miss Jewel Sat on a stool, Eating of curds and whey; There came a little spider Who sat down beside her, And frightened Miss Jewel away. |
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Little Girl Little girl, little girl, where have you been; Gathering Roses to give to the Queen. Little girl, little girl, what gave she you? She gave me a diamond as big as my shoe. |
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Little Betty Blue Little Betty Blue lost her pretty shoe; What can Little Betty do? Give her another, to match the other, And then she can walk in two. |
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I'm Grandmamma Last night when I was in bed, Such fun it seemed to me; I dreamt that I was Grandmamma, And Grandmamma was me. But she was such a tiny girl, And dressed in baby clothes; And I thought I smacked her face, because She wouldn't blow her nose. An I went walking up the street, And she ran by my side; And because I walked too quick for her, My goodness, hoe she cried. And after tea I washed her face; And when her prayers were said, I blew the candle out, and left Poor Grandmamma in bed. |
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The Babes In The Wood A long time ago there lived in an old mansion in the country a rich gentleman and his wife, who had two dear little children, of whom they were very fond. Sad to relate, the gentleman and lady were both taken ill, and, feeling they were about to die, sent for the uncle of the children, and begged him to take care of them till they were old enough to inherit the estates. Now this uncle was a bad and cruel man, who wanted to take the house, the estates, and the money for himself,—so after the death of the parents he began to think how he could best get rid of the children. For some time he kept them till he claimed for them all the goods that should have been theirs. At last he sent for two robbers, who had once been his companions, and showing them the boy and girl, who were at play, offered them a large sum of money to carry them away and never let him see them more. One of the two robbers began coaxing the little boy and girl, and asking them if they would not like to go out for a nice ride in the woods, each of them on a big horse. The boy said he should if his sister might go too, and the girl said she should not be afraid if her brother went with her. So the two robbers enticed them away from the house, and, mounting their horses, went off into the woods, much to the delight of the children, who were pleased with the great trees, the bright flowers, and the singing of the birds. Now, one of these men was not so bad and cruel as the other, and he would not consent to kill the poor little creatures, as the other had threatened he would do. He said that they should be left in the woods to stray about, and perhaps they might then escape. This led to a great quarrel between the two, and at last the cruel one jumped off his horse, saying he would kill them, let who would stand in the way. Upon this the other drew his sword to protect the children, and after a fierce fight succeeded in killing his companion. But though he had saved them from being murdered, he was afraid to take them back or convey them out of the wood, so he pointed out a path, telling them to walk straight on and he would come back to them when he had bought some bread for their supper; he rode away and left them there all alone, with only the trees, and birds and flowers. They loved each other so dearly, and were so bold and happy, that they were not much afraid though they were both very hungry. The two children soon got out of the path, which led into the thickest part of the wood, and then they wandered farther and farther into the thicket till they were both sadly tired, but they found some wild berries, nuts and fruits, and began to eat them to satisfy their hunger. The dark night came on and the robber did not return. They were cold, and still very hungry, and the boy went about looking for fresh fruit for his sister, and tried to comfort her as they lay down to sleep on the soft moss under the trees. The next day, and the next, they roamed about, but there was nothing to eat but wild fruits; and they lived on them till they grew so weak that they could not go far from the tree where they had made a little bed of grass and weeds. There they laid down as the shades of night fell upon them, and in the morning they were both in heaven, for they died there in the forest, and as the sun shone upon their little pale faces, the robins and other birds came and covered their bodies with leaves, and so died and were buried the poor Babes in the Wood. |
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Page 17—Girl's Stories
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Cinderella Cinderella's mother died while she was a very little child, leaving her to the care of her father and her step-sisters, who were very much older than herself; for Cinderella's father had been twice married, and her mother was his second wife. Now, Cinderella's sisters did not love her, and were very unkind to her. As she grew older they made her work as a servant, and even sift the cinders: on which account they used to call her in mockery "Cinderella." It was not her real name, but she became afterwards so well known by it that her proper one has been forgotten. She was a sweet tempered, good girl, however, and everybody except her cruel sisters loved her. It happened, when Cinderella was about seventeen years old, that the King of that country gave a ball, to which all the ladies of the land, and among the rest the young girl's sisters were invited. So they made her dress them for this ball, but never thought of allowing her to go. "I wish you would take me to the ball with you, sisters," said Cinderella, meekly. "Take you, indeed!" answered the elder sister with a sneer, "it is no place for a cinder-sifter: stay at home and do your work." When they were gone, Cinderella, whose heart was sad, sat down and cried; but as she sorrowful, thinking of the unkindness of her sisters, a voice called to her from the garden, and she went to see who was there. It was her godmother, a good old Fairy. "Do not cry, Cinderella," she said; "you also shall go to the ball, because you are a kind, good girl. Bring me a large pumpkin." Cinderella obeyed, and the fairy touched it with her wand, turned it into a grand coach. Then she turned a rat into a coach-man, and some mice into footmen; and touching Cinderella with her wand, the poor girl's rags became a rich dress trimmed with costly lace and jewels, and her old shoes became a charming pair of glass slippers, which looked like diamonds. The fairy told her to go to the ball and enjoy herself, but to be sure and leave the ball-room before the clock struck eleven. "If you do not," she said, "your fine clothes will all turn to rags again. So Cinderella got into the coach, and drove off with her six footmen behind, very splendid to behold, and arrived at the King's Court, where she was received with delight. She was the most beautiful young lady at the ball, and the Prince would dance with no one else. But she made haste to leave before the hour fixed and had time to undress before her sisters came home. They told her a beautiful Princess had been at the ball, with whom the Prince was delighted. They did not know it was Cinderella herself. Three times Cinderella went to royal balls in this manner, but the third time she forgot the Fairy's command, and heard eleven o'clock strike. She darted out of the ball-room and ran down stairs in a great hurry. But her dress all turned to rags before she left the palace and she lost one of her glass slippers. The Prince sought for her everywhere, but the guard said no one had passed the gate but a poor beggar girl. However, the prince found the slipper, and in order to discover where Cinderella was gone, he had it proclaimed that he would marry the lady who could put on the glass slipper. All the ladies tried to wear the glass slipper in vain, Cinderella's sisters also, but when their young sister begged to be allowed to try it also, it was found to fit her exactly, and to the Prince's delight, she drew the fellow slipper from her pocket, and he knew at once that she was his beautiful partner at the ball. So she was married to the Prince, and the children strewed roses in their path as they came out of church. Cinderella forgave her sisters, and was so kind to them that she made them truly sorry for their past cruelty and injustice. |
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The Three Bears Once upon a time three bears lived in a nice little house in a great forest. There was Father Bear, Mother Bear, and Baby Bear. They had each a bed to sleep in, a chair to sit on, and a basin and a spoon for eating porridge, which was their favourite food. One morning the three bears went to take a walk before breakfast; but before they went out they poured the hot porridge into their basins, that it might get cool by the time they came back. Mr and Mrs Bear walked arm-in-arm, and Baby Bear ran by their side. Now, there lived in that same forest a sweet little girl who was called Golden Hair. She, also, was walking that morning in the wood, and happening to pass by the bear's house, and seeing the window open, she peeped in. |
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There was no one to be seen, but three basins of steaming hot
porridge all ready to be eaten, seemed to say "Come in and have some
breakfast." So Golden Hair went in and tasted the porridge in all the
basins, then she sat down in Baby Bear's chair, and took up his
spoon, and ate up all his porridge. Now this was very wrong. A tiny
bear is only a tiny bear, still he has the right to keep his own
things. But Golden Hair didn't know any better.
Unluckily, Baby Bear's chair was too small for her, and she broke the
seat and fell through, basin and all.
Then Golden Hair went upstairs, and there she saw three beds all in a
row. Golden Hair lay down on Father Bear's bed first, but that was
too long for her, then she lay down on Mother Bear's bed, and that
was too wide for her, last of all she lay down on Baby Bear's bed,
and there she fell asleep, for she was tired.
By-and-by the bears came home, and Old Father Bear looked at his
chair, and growled:
"Somebody has been here!" Mother Bear growled more softly: "Somebody has been here!" Baby Bear, seeing his chair broken, squeeled out "Somebody has been here, and broken my chair right through!" Then they went to the table, and looked at their porridge, and Father Bear Growled: "Who has touched my basin?" And Mother Bear growled: "Who has touched my basin?" And Baby Bear squeaked: "Somebody has broken mine and eaten up all my porridge!" They went upstairs and Father Bear growled: "Who has been lying on my bed?" And Mother Bear growled: "Who has been lying on my bed?" And Baby Bear squeaked out: "O! here is a little girl in my bed; and it must be she who has eaten my breakfast and broken my chair and basin!" Then Father Bear growled: "Let us eat her up!" Then Mother Bear growled: "Let us eat her up!" And Tiny Bear squeaked: "Let us eat her up!" But the noise they made awoke Golden Hair; she startled out of bed (on the opposite side) and jumped out of the window. The three bears all jumped out after her, but they fell one on the top of the other, and rolled over and over, and while they were picking themselves up, little Golden Hair ran home, and they were not able to catch her. |
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Bluebeard Once there lived in a lovely castle a very rich man called Bluebeard. A short distance off lived an old gentleman with two lovely daughters, named Fatima and Annie. Bluebeard visited their house, and at length proposed to Fatima, was accepted by her, and they were married with great splendour. He took her home with him to his castle, and permitted her sister Annie to reside with her for company for a time. She lived very happily in her new home, her new husband was very kind to her, and allowed her to have everything she wished for, but one day he suddenly told her that business called him away from home, that he should be away some days, and handed her the keys to his wardrobe, treasures, and all parts of the castle, he also gave her one key of a small closet, and told her that she might unlock every door in the castle, but not the closet door, for if she did so, she should not live an hour longer. He then left home fondly kissing her at the door. Her sister and herself returned into the castle, and enjoyed themselves in unlocking room after room, looking over the curiosities, treasures, &c, until Annie became tired and lay down to rest on a rich sofa, and fell asleep. Fatima, as soon as she saw that her sister was asleep, felt a womanly curiosity, an irresistible temptation to unlock the forbidden closet, and take a peep. She tripped lightly up to the door, turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and, oh! horror! there were five or six dead ladies lying in the closet, with their marriage rings on their fingers. She at once concluded that they were Bluebeard's previous wives, she let the key drop in her fright into the blood on the floor, she picked it up and attempted to wipe it, but the blood would not come off. She awoke her sister, and they both tried, but they could not get it off, and gave it up in despair. Just then Bluebeard suddenly returned, and asked his wife if she could please to hand him the keys. She trembling did so. He said "How came the blood on the closet key? You have disobeyed me, and shall die at once." She begged a few minutes to say her prayers and just as he was going to chop her head off, her two brothers arrived at the castle, burst open the door, killed the cruel wretch, and rescued their sisters. |
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Page 18—Girl Land
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My Girl A little corner with it's crib. A little mug, a spoon, a bib, A little tooth so pearly white, A little rubber-ring to bite. A little plate all lettered round, A little rattle to resound, A little creeping—see! she stands! A little step 'twixt outstretched hands. A little doll with flaxen hair. A little willow rocking chair, A little dress of richest hue, A little pair of gaiters blue. A little school day after day, A little "schoolma'am" to obey, A little study—soon 'tis past— A little graduate at last. A little muff for wintry weather, A little jockey-hat and feather, A little sac with funny pockets, A little chain, a ring, and lockets. A little while to dance and bow, A little escort homeward now, A little party somewhat late, A little lingering at the gate. A little walk in leafy June, A little talk while shines the moon, A little reference to papa, A little planning with mamma. A little ceremony grave, A little struggle to be brave, A little cottage on the lawn, A little kiss—my girl was gone! |
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Good and Bad There was a little girl, And she had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead When she was good She was very good, But when she was bad, she was horrible. |
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My little Daughter's Shoes Two little rough-worn, stubbed shoes A plump, well-trodden pair; With striped stockings thrust within, Lie just beside my chair. Of very homely fabric they, A hole is in each toe, They might have cost, when they were new, Some fifty cents or so. And yet this little, worn-out pair Is richer far too me Than all the jewelled sandals are Of Eastern luxury. This mottled leather, cracked with use, Is satin in my sight; These little tarnished buttons shine With all a diamond's light. Search through the wardrobe of the world! You shall not find me there So rarely made, so richly wrought, So glorious a pair. And why? Because they tell of her, Now sound asleep above, Whose form is moving beauty, and Whose heart is beating love. They tell me of her merry laugh; Her rich, whole-hearted glee; Her gentleness, her innocence, And infant purity. They tell me that her wavering steps Will long demand my aid; For the old road of human life Is very roughly laid. High hills and swift descents abound; And, on so rude a way, Feet that can wear these coverings Would surely go astray. Sweet little girl! be mine the task Thy feeble steps to tend! To be thy guide, thy counsellor, Thy playmate and thy friend! And when my steps shall faltering grow, And thine be firm and strong, Thy strength shell lead my tottering age In cheerful peace along. |
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The Old Cradle And this was your cradle? Why, surely, my Jenny, Such slender dimensions Go somewhat to show You were a delightfully Small picaninny Some nineteen or twenty Short summers ago. Your baby-day flowed In a much troubled channel; I see you as then In your impotent strife, A tight little bundle Of wailing and flannel, Perplexed with that Newly-found fardel called Life, To hint at an infantine Frailty is scandal; Let bygones be bygones— And somebody knows It was bliss such a baby To dance and to dandle, Your cheeks were so velvet, So rosy your toes. Ay, here is your cradle, And Hope, a bright spirit, With love now is watching Beside it, I know. They guard the small nest You yourself did inherit Some nineteen or twenty Short summers ago. It is Hope gilds the future— Love welcomes it smiling; Thus wags this old world, Therefore stay not to ask, "My future bids fair, Is my future beguiling?" If masked, still it pleases— Then raise not the mask. Is life a poor coil Some would gladly be doffing? He is riding post-haste Who their wrongs will adjust; For at most 'tis a footstep From cradle to coffin— From a spoonful of pap To a mouthful of dust. Then smile as your future Is smiling, my Jenny! Tho' blossoms of promise Are lost in the rose, I still see the face Of my small picaninny Unchang'd, for these cheeks Are as blooming as those. Ay, here is your cradle! Much, much to my liking, Though nineteen or twenty Long winters have sped; But, hark! as I'm talking There's six o'clock striking, It is time Jennie's baby Should be in its bed. Frederick Locker |
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A Little Goose The chill November day was done, The working world home a-faring, The wind came roaring through the streets, And set the gas lamps flaring. And hopelessly and aimlessly The seared old leaves were flying, When, mingled with the sighing wind, I heard a small voice crying, And shivering on the corner stood A child of four or over; No hat nor cloak her small soft arms Or wind-blown curls to cover. Her dimpled face was stained with tears; Her round blue eyes ran over; She crushed within her wee, cold hands A bunch of faded clover. And one hand round her treasures, While she slipped in mine the other, Half-scared, half-confidential, said "Oh! please, I want my mother." "Tell me your street name and number, pet; Don't cry, I'll take you to it," Sobbing, she answered, "I forget— The organ made me do it." "He came and played at Miller's steps; The monkey took the money; And so I followed down the street, That monkey was so funny. I've walked about a hundred hours, From one street to another; The monkey's gone; I've spoiled my flowers: Oh! please, I want my mother." "But what's your mother's name? And what's the street? now think a minute." "My mother's name is mamma dear, The street—I can't begin it." "But what is strange about the house, Or new—not like the others?" I guess you mean my trundle bed— Mine and my little brother's. Oh! dear, I ought to be at home, to help him say his prayers; He's such a baby, he forgets, And we are both such players. "And there's a bar between, to keep From pitching on each other; For Harry rolls when he's asleep— Oh! dear, I want my mother." The sky grew stormy, people passed, All muffled, homeward faring; "You'll have to spend the night with me," I said at last, despairing. I spied a ribbon about her neck. "What ribbon's this, my blossom?" "Why, don't you know?" she smiling asked, And drew it from her bosom. A card with number, street, and name! My eyes astonished, met it. "For," said the little one, "you see I might some tome forget it. And so I wear a little thing That tells you all about it; For mother says she's very sure I might get lost without it. Eliza S. Turner |
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Page 19—Girl Land
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Girls There's the pretty girl, And the witty girl, And the girl that bangs her hair; The girl that's a flirt, And the girl that is pert, And the girl with the baby stare. There's the dowdy girl, And the rowdy girl, And the girl that's always late; There's the girl of style, And the girl of wile, And the girl with the mincing gaits There's the tender girl, And the well-read girl, And the girl with the sense of duty There's the dainty girl And the fainty girl And the girl that has no beauty. There's the lazy girl, And the daisy girl, And the girl that has two faces; There's the girl that's shy, And the girl that's fly And the girl that bets on races There are many others, Oh! men and brothers, Than are named in this narration. There are girls and girls, Yet they're all of them pearls, Quite the best sorts in creation. |
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Girl's Names There is a strange deformity Combined with countless graces, As often in the ladies' names, As in the ladies faces; Some names fit for every age, Some only fit for youth; Some passing sweet and musical, Some horribly uncouth; Some fit for dames of loftiest grades, Some only fit for scullery maids Ann is too plain and common, And Nancy sounds but ill; Yet Anna is endurable, And Annie better still, There is a grace in Charlotte, In Eleanor a state, An elegance in Isabel, A haughtiness in Kate; And Sarah is sedate and neat, And Ellen innocent and sweet Matilda has a sickly sound, Fit for a nurse's trade; Sophie is effeminate, And Esther sage and staid; Elizabeth's a matchless name, Fit for a queen to wear In castle, cottage, hut, or hall— A name beyond compare; And Bess, and Bessie follow well, But Betsy is detestable. Maria is too forward, And Gertrude is too gruff, Yet, coupled with a pretty face, Is pretty name enough' And Adelaide is fanciful, And Laura is too fine, But Emily is beautiful, And Mary is divine Maud only suits a high-born dame, And Fanny is a baby name Eliza is not very choice, Jane is too blunt and Bold, And Martha somewhat sorrowful, And Lucy proud and cold; Amelia is too light and gay, Fit for only a flirt; And Caroline is vain and shy, And Flora smart and pert; Louisa is too soft and sleek But Alice—gentle, chaste and meek And Harriet is confiding, And Clara grave and mild. And Emma is affectionate, And Janet arch and wild! And Patience is expressive, And Grace is cold and rare, And Hannah warm and dutiful, And Margaret frank and fair And Faith, and Hope and Charity Are heavenly names for sisters three. |
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Sarah Oh, Sarah mine, hark to my song Your slumbers soft invading. For here beneath your window-sill I come a-Sarah-nading. You know my fond heart beats for you In tenderest adoration, And then, you know, I long to have You be my own Sal-vation. The day's not far when you'll be mine— The thought makes my soul merry; You'll be the pride of all my life, But not my adver-Sarey. The tender fates shall crown your lot, And sweet contentment parcel; And while you're just the world to me, Love will be univer-Sal. With bridal altar draped with flowers And everything so tony, In crowded church we will be wed With lots of Sarah-money. There's nothing I'll not do for you Till life comes to an end, dear. I'd brave the battles of the world And fight a Sara-cen, dear. I must to sleep, Sal, soda you, For here I must not dally, For that bull-dog I hear, like me, Is bound to have a Sally. |
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Several Kinds of Girls A good girl to have—Sal Vation. A disagreeable girl—Anna Mosity. A fighting girl—Hittie Magginn. Not a Christian girl—Hettie Rodoxy. A sweet girl—Carrie Mel. A pleasant girl—Jennie Rosity. A sick girl—Sallie Vate. A smooth girl—Amelia Ration. A seedy girl—Cora Ander. One of the best girls—Ella Gant. A clear case of girl—E. Lucy Date. A geometrical girl—Rhoda Dendron. A musical girl—Sarah Nade. A profound girl—Mettie Physics. A star girl—Meta Oric. A clinging girl—Jessie Mine. A nervous girl—Hester Ical. A muscular girl—Callie Sthenici. A lively girl—Anna Mation. An uncertain girl—Eva Nescent. A sad girl—Ella G. A serene girl—Molly Fy. A great big girl—Ella Phant. A warlike girl—Millie Tary. The best girl of all—Your Own. |
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Page 20—Girl Land
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Jumping-Jennie Jennie has a jumping-rope As slender as a whip. And all about the street and house She'd skip, and skip, and skip. She knocked the vases from the shelf, Upset the stools and chairs, And one unlucky day, alas! Went headlong down the stairs. Against the wall, against the door Her head she often bumped, And stumbled here, and stumbled there, Yet still she jumped, and jumped. She jumped so high, she jumped so hard, That—so the story goes— She wore her shoes and stockings out, Likewise her heels and toes. |
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I Don't Care Matilda was a pretty girl, And she had flaxen hair; And yet she used those naughty words "I'm sure I do not care." She once her lessons would not learn, But talk'd about the fair, And lost her tickets, but she said, "I'm sure I do not care." As she advanced to riper years, I'm sorry to declare, She still preserved those naughty words, "I'm sure I do not care." She grew a woman, and for life 'Twas time she should prepare, But still she said "there's time enough, If not, I do not care." Duties neglected, warnings spurn'd, Her mother in despair; And though she saw the evil done, She said, "I do not care." Still on she went from bad to worse, She spurned her father's prayer; Who feared she'd find an awful end, Because she would not care. Afflictions came, and death in view, Which filled her with despair; Her God neglected, and she feared For her He would not care. Could you have then Matilda seen, Or heard her broken prayer, She urged her friends never to use Those awful words—Don't Care. |
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Little Miss Meddlesome Little Miss Meddlesome Scattering crumbs, Into the library Noisily comes— Twirls off her apron, Tilts open some books, And into a work-basket Rummaging, looks. Out goes the spools spinning Over the floor, Beeswax and needle-case Stepped out before; She tosses the tape-rule And plays with the floss, And says to herself, "Now won't mamma be cross!" Little Miss Meddlesome Climbs to the shelf, Since no-one is looking, And mischievous elf, Pulls down the fine vases, The cuckoo-clock stops, And sprinkles the carpet With damaging drops. She turns over the ottoman, Frightens the bird, And sees that the chairs In a medley are stirred; Then creeps on the sofa, And, all in a heap, Drops out of her Frolicsome mischief asleep. But here comes the nurse, Who is shaking her head, And frowns at the mischief Asleep on her bed. But let's hope when Miss Meddlesome's Slumber is o'er, She may wake from good dreams And do mischief no more. |
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Careless Matilda "Again, Matilda, Is your work astray, Your thimble is gone! Your scissors, where are they? Your needles, pins, your thread, And tapes all lost— Your housewife here, And there your work-bag tost. Fie, fie, my child! Indeed this will not do, Your hair uncomb'd, Your frock in tatters too; I'm now resolv'd No more delays to grant, This day I'll send you To your stern old aunt." In vain Matilda wept, Repented, pray'd, In vain a promise Of amendment made. Arriv'd at Austere Hall, Matilda sigh'd. By Lady Rigid, When severely eyed. "You read, and write, And work well, as I'm told, Are gentle, kind, good-natur'd, Far from bold. But very careless, Negligent, and wild— When you leave me, You'll be a different child." The little girl Next morn a favour asks: "I wish to take a walk," "Go learn your tasks," The lady harsh replies, "Nor cry nor whine. Your room you leave not Till you're call'd to dine." As thus Matilda sat, O'erwhelm'd with shame, A dame appear'd, Disorder was her name. Her hair and dress neglected, Soil'd her face, She squinted leer'd, And hobbled in her pace. "Here, child," she said, "My mistress sends you this, A bag of silks— A flow'r not work'd amiss— A polyanthus bright, And wondrous gay; You'll copy it by noon, She bade me say." Disorder grinn'd, Then shuffling walk'd away. Entangled were The silks of every hue, Confus'd and mix'd Were shades of pink, green, blue; She took a thread, Compar'd it with the flow'r; "To finish this is Not within my pow'r. Well-order'd silks Had Lady Rigid sent, I might have work'd, If such was her intent." She sigh'd, and melted Into sobs and tears, She hears a noise And at the door appears A pretty maiden, clean, Well-dress'd, and neat Her voice was soft, Her looks sedate, yet sweet. "My name is Order, Do not cry my love; Attend to me, And thus you may improve." She took the silks, And drew out shade for shade, In sep'rate skeins, Each hue with care she laid; Then smiling kindly, Left the little maid. Matilda now resumed Her sweet employ, And sees the flow'r complete— How great her joy. She leaves the room, "I've done my task," she cries. But soon her harshness The lady look'd With disbelieving eyes, Chang'd to glad surprise. "Why this is well! A very pretty flow'r, Work'd clean, exact, And done within the hour! And now amuse yourself, Ride, walk or play." Thus passed Matilda This much-dreaded day. At all her tasks Disorder would attend At all her tasks Still Order stood her friend. With tears and sighs Her studies oft began, These into smiles Were changed by Order's plan; No longer Lady Rigid Seem'd severe, Her looks the negligent Alone need fear. And when the day The wish'd-for day is come When young Matilda's Suffer'd to go home: "You quit me, child, But oft to mind recall The time you spent With me at Austere Hall. And now, my dear, I'll give you one of these, Your servant she will be; Take which you please." "From me," Disorder asked, "Old friend, why start?" Matilda clasped Sweet Order to her heart. "My dearest girl," she cried, "We'll never part." |
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Page 21—Girl Land
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Forty Little School Girls Forty little school girls, running, but not flirty; Ten ran into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but thirty. Thirty little school girls swimming the river Plenty; Ten swam into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but twenty. Twenty little school girls jumping in velveteen; One jumped into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were nineteen. Nineteen little school girls going out a-skating; One skated into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but eighteen. Eighteen little school girls dancing with the queen; One danced into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were seventeen. Seventeen little school girls driving a bullock team; One drove into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were sixteen. Sixteen little school girls creeping out unseen; One crept into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were fifteen. Fifteen little school girls hopping on the green; One hopped into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were fourteen. Fourteen little schoolgirls floating down a stream; One floated into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were thirteen. Thirteen little school girls leaping out to delve; One leaped into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but twelve. Twelve little school girls racing out for leaven; One raced into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were eleven. Eleven little school girls dodging a lion when— One dodged into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but ten. Ten little school girls, all skipping in a line; One skipped into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but nine. Nine little school girls swinging on a gate; One swung into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but eight. Eight little school girls, trying to fly to heaven; One flew into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but seven. Seven little school girls tripping out for sticks; One tripped into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but six. Six little school girls, going for a dive; One dived into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but five. Five little school girls, sailing to explore; One sailed into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but four. Four little school girls steaming on the sea; One steamed into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but three. Three little school girls, riding on a moo; One rode into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but two. Two little school girls, sliding about for fun; One slid into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there was but one. One little school girl, the nicest, last and best, She walked into Cole's Book Arcade, And read books with all the rest. |
| The following is the way that each girl went into Cole's Book Arcade: |
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Ada ran into it. Agnes ran into it. Alice ran into it. Amy ran into it. Annie ran into it. Angelina ran into it. Bessie ran into it. Bridget ran into it. Carrie ran into it. Clara ran into it. Edith swam into it. Eliza swam into it. Emily swam into it. Emma swam into it. Fanny swam into it. Florence swam into it. Hannah swam into it. Harriet swam into it. Jane swam into it. Jessie swam into it. Kate jumped into it. Lillie skated into it. Lizzie danced into it. Lottie drove into it. Louisa crept into it. Lucy hopped into it. Mary floated into it. Martha leaped into it. Matilda raced into it. Maggie dodged into it. Maria skipped into it. Mabel swung into it. Maude flew into it. May tripped into it. Minnie dived into it. Nellie sailed into it. Olive Steamed into it. Rose rode into it. Sarah slid into it. Tottie walked into it. |
| N.B.—Any little girl is invited to walk, run, jump, dance, skip, hop, swim, fly, or come into Cole's Book Arcade in any way she chooses, the same as the Forty Little School Girls. |
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Story Of The Funny Monkeys Once there was a funny old monkey—and this old monkey had six young monkeys. There was one white monkey, and one black monkey, and one yellow monkey, and one red monkey, and one blue monkey, and one green monkey; and the white monkey's name was Linda, and the black monkey's name was Eddie, and the yellow monkey's name was Vally, and the red monkey's name was Ruby, and the blue monkey's name was Pearl, and the green Monkey's name was Ivy Diamond. And the white monkey liked apples, and the black monkey liked grapes, and the yellow monkey liked cherries, and the red monkey liked strawberries, and the blue monkey liked oranges, and the green monkey liked nuts, and that's all about these FUNNY MONKEYS. The names of any children can be told in this story instead of Linda, Eddie, Vally, Ruby, Pearl, and Diamond. |
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Page 22—Girl Land
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Tangle Pate There was a girl, named tanglepate, She lived—I won't say where— Who was not willing any one Should comb or curl her hair. She cried and made a dreadful fuss, At morning, noon, or night, And did not seem at all ashamed Of looking like a fright. Her hair stood out around her head Just like a lion's mane, And she was scolded, coaxed, and teased About it—but in vain. It caught on buttons, hooks, and boughs As here and there she rushed, And yet she would not consent To have it combed or brushed. And so she fell asleep one day Within the woods, and there Two birdies came and built a nest Amid her tangled hair. |
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A Careless Girl I know a very careless girl, Her hair is always out of curl, In rags and tatters are her clothes, And she's a fright, you may suppose. Her skirts she catches on a nail, And leaves behind and ugly trail; Her sashes always are untied, Her dresses always gaping wide. 'Tis her delight to tear and rend, She does not like to patch or mend, And 'tis no wonder that she goes So out at elbows and at toes. |
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Naughty Girl The naughty girl Never minds mamma, Always says, "I won't!" To dear papa! Makes a great deal of noise About the house. When her mother wants her As still as a mouse. She pinches the cat, She pulls her tail; And takes the bird-cage Down from the nail; Teases her brothers, And spoils her hair, And reproved says, "I don't care!" She worries poor grandma, Makes baby cry; She cannot please him, And I know why:— She lets him lie In the crib and moan, While she is amusing Herself alone. At school she forgets What the teacher said, Sits idly leaning her hands On her head; She never learns The task that's given, And cannot tell even Seven times seven. At table she's careless, And spills her drink, Can never be taught To "stop and think;" Gets down from the table And goes to play, To do the same over Another day. |
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Mopy Maria Mopy Maria Would sit by the fire, It seemed to be Her greatest desire; Bent and bowed As if wrapped in a shroud, And her face as black As a thunder-cloud. She filled the room So full of gloom, The place was as Dismal as a tomb; And few would admire Her, or desire To spend much time With Mopy Maria, She moped and pined Yet no-one could find That any trouble Disturbed her mind; Nor reasons good Why she should brood An such a Ridiculous attitude. It wasn't her style To laugh and smile She didn't think It was worth her while; So dull and flat She daily sat Like a Chinese idol, Or worse than that, If the children came To propose a game Of any sort, It was all the same; She wouldn't play, She wouldn't be gay, But sat and pouted The livelong day. Her face grew thin; And at length her chin Grew long and sharp; Oh! as sharp as a pin! And one windy day She blew away Like a great big kite That had gone astray. The winds were high, And she had to fly Away at their bidding; It made her cry; But she couldn't get higher Than the tall church spire, So there she stuck— Poor Mopy Maria! |
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Disobedient May Naughty May will not obey, But will always have her way Every moment of the day. If you say do this, or that, She will be amazed thereat, Show her claws like any cat. O she is a naughty child! Very fond of running wild, Never gentle, meek, or mild. Some fine day, I don't know when— She'll be popp'd in piggy's pen, And be most unhappy then. Pigs are stubborn things indeed, Will not go as you would lead, Never words of counsel heed. And pig-headed folks are they Who will always have their way, Spite of anything you say. |
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Sluttishness Oh! Mary, my mary, Why, where is your dolly? Look here, I protest, on the floor: To leave her about In the dirt so is folly, You ought to be trusted no more. I thought you were pleas'd. And receiv'd her quite gladly, When on your birthday she came home; Did I ever suppose You would use her so sadly, And strew her things over the room? Her bonnet of straw You once thought a great matter, And tied it so pretty and neat; Now see how 'tis crumpled, No trencher is flatter, It grieves your mamma thus to see't. Suppose (you're my Dolly, You know, little daughter, Whom I love to dress neat, and see good), Suppose in my care of you, I were to falter, And let you get dirty and rude! But Dolly's mere wood, You are flesh and bone living, And deserves better treatment and care; That is true, my sweet girl, 'Tis the reason I'm giving This lesson so sharp and severe. 'Tis not for the Dolly I'm anxious and fearful, Tho' she cost too much to be spoil'd; I'm afraid lest yourself Should get sluttish, not careful, And that were a sad thing, my child. |
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Jane, who Bit her Nails When I was living down in Wales, I knew a girl who bit her nails; Her finger-ends became so sore, The blood flowed from them to the floor. The more she bit the more they bled, Until upon herself she fed; And as she nibbled day by day, The fingers slowly wore away. See, here she is: she sadly stands With only stumps instead of hands; The silly girl can never play, Yet she was cautioned every day. Her father said, "You naughty thing, Some wooden fingers I must bring, And try to get them fastened to Your hands with little bits of glue." |
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Poking Fun When little Lizzie came across A birdie, or a chick, A duckling, or a gosling, she would poke it with a stick. She chased the dog, she chased the cat, But when she saw a mouse She gave a scream so very loud It echoed through the house. She poked the turtles and the frogs And thought it was fine fun, But when the geese poked out their necks At her, she had to run. One day she chanced to find a hive With not a bee about, And said, "Is any one at home? "I'll very soon find out!" And so she did. As soon as she Had poked her stick inside, The bees flew out and stung her so She very nearly died. |
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Page 23—Girl Land
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The Pin "Dear me! what signifies a pin, Wedg'd in a rotten board? I'm certain that I won't begin, At ten years old, to hoard! I never will be called a miser; That I'm determined," said Eliza. So onward tripped the little maid, And left the pin behind, Which very snug and quiet lay, To its hard fate resign'd; Nor did she think (a careless chit) 'Twas worth her while to stoop for it. Next day a party was to ride To see an air balloon; And all the company beside Were dressed and ready soon: But she a woful case was in, For want of just a single pin. In vain her eager eyes she brings To ev'ry darksome crack, There was not one! and yet her things Were dropping off her back. She cut her pincushion in two, But no, not one had slidden through. At last, as hunting on the floor, Over a crack she lay, The carriage rattled to the door, Then rattled fast away: But poor Eliza was not in, For want of just a single pin. There's hardly anything so small, So trifling or so mean, That we may never want at all, For service unforseen; And wilful waste, depend upon't Brings, almost always, woful want! Ann Taylor |
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Stupid Jane Oh! she was such a stupid Jane, They tried in vain To make things plain, But she would ask and ask again, As if there wasn't any brain Inside the head of stupid Jane. If she was set to do a task, So many questions she would ask, 'Twas easier far her teachers said To do the work themselves instead, Than try to make her understand The lesson she had in hand. If on an errand told to go, And cautioned to do thus and so, Turn here and there along the way, Oh! Jane was sure to go astray; For she hade such a crooked pate, She could not do an errand straight. She did not care for books or toys, She could not play with girls or boys; Because so oft she blocked their games, They used to call her dreadful names, And in loud, angry tones complain, "Oh, what a horrid, Stupid Jane!" Brought to the parlour nicely drest To be presented to a guest, With finger in her mouth she'd stand And stare about on every hand, Nor answer by a single word, Nor even act as if she heard. Oh! she was such a stupid Jane, They tried in vain To make things plain, But she would ask and ask again, As if there wasn't any brain Inside the head of stupid Jane. |
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Little Girl who wouldn't eat Crusts The awfullest times that ever could be They had with a bad little girl of Dundee, Who never would finish her crust In vain they besought her, And patiently taught her And told her she must. Her grandma would coax, And so would the folks, And tell her the sinning Of such a beginning. But no, she wouldn't. She couldn't, she shouldn't, She'd have them to know— So they might as well go. And what do you think came to pass? This little girl of Dundee, alas! Who wouldn't take crusts the regular way, Sat down to a feast one summer's day; And what did the people that little girl give? Why, a dish of bread pudding—as sure as I live! |
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Pouting Polly Polly was a little girl, Pretty as a posy; Rather straight, and rather tall; Very round and rosy. Other little girls and boys Always were delighted, So if to pretty Polly's house They had been invited. There they'd romp, and have great fun, Frolicking and shouting; But alas! they soon would find Pretty Polly pouting! What had any one done? How had they displeased her? Was she sad or mad because Johnny Dean had teased her? Why are you so cross and glum When the rest are jolly? With your under-lip thrust out, Tell us, pouting Polly! Polly loves to have her way; Ah! no one can doubt it; And whenever she's displeased She will pout about it. Such a funny under-lip! You would like to grab it, So that little Polly might Break this naughty habit. In the house or out-of-doors, Little Polly Horner You will find a dozen times Pouting in a corner. Once, when in the garden she Stood thus melancholy, On her under-lip a bee Stung Miss Pouting Polly. Then she danced, and then she screamed; People heard her yelling Half-a-mile or more away, While her lip was swelling. Oh, it swelled, and swelled, and swelled, Like a great big blister, And the pain was very great Where the bee had kissed her. Many days she kept her bed; And there is no doubting That the sorry little maid Had her fill of pouting. For the buzzing busy-bee Cured her of her folly; And the remedy will cure Any pouting Polly. |
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Untidy Emily Oh, here's a sad picture! Pray carefully look! As sad as was ever Yet seen in a book. 'Tis Emily's portrait: Not at all flattered. Slovenly, dirty, untidy, And tattered. Her mother implores her, Again and again, To make herself tidy; But all is in vain. Her trimmings are torn; There's a hole in her dress; Another, still larger; Her shoes in a mess; Stockings down, buttons missing; Shabby old hat, Not for worlds would I Wear it, battered and flat. Her mother does nothing But patch, darn and mend, Till, saddened and weary, She says, "This must end. "All, all is in vain. And now, happen what may, I can do nothing more; So go your own way." A terrible thing Very soon now befell, Oh, horror! I shudder The story to tell. This girl ran quite wild; Till at last she became All tatters and rags, With no feeling of shame. A man, who was passing, Then took her one day, And in his field placed her, To scare birds away. She is still standing there; Stands there day and night. The sparrows fly round her, And cry in affright: "Look at this dreadful thing! Take care now, take care! Beware of the scarecrow! Beware, now, beware!" |
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Page 24—Girl Land
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Maidenhood Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies, Like a dusk in evening skies! Thou, whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one, As the braided streamlets run! Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet! Womanhood and childhood fleet! Gazing, with a timid glance, On the brooklet's swift advance, On the river's broad expanse! Deep and still, that gliding stream Beautiful to thee must seem, As the river of a dream. Then why pause with indecision, When bright angels in thy vision Beckon thee to fields of Elysian? Seest thou shadows sailing by, As the dove, with startled eye, Sees the falcon's shadow fly? Hearest thou voices on the shore, That our ears perceive no more, Deafen'd by the cataract's roar? O, thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands—Life hath snares! Care and age come unawares! Like the swell of some sweet tune, Morning rises into noon, May glides onward into June Childhood is the bough where slumber'd Birds and blossoms many-number'd— Age, that bough with snows encumber'd Gather, then each flower that grows, When the young heart overflows, To embalm that tent of snows Bear a lily in thy hand; Gates of brass cannot withstand One touch of that magic wand Bear, through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, In thy heart the dew of youth, On thy lips the smile of truth. Oh! that dew, like balm, shall steal Into wounds, that cannot heal, Even as sleep our eyes doth seal: And that smile, like sunshine, dart Into many a sunless heart, For a smile of God thou art. Longfellow |
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Girls that are in Demand The girls that are wanted are good girls— Good from the heart to the lips; Pure as the lily is white and pure, From it's heart to its sweet leaf tips. The girls that are wanted are home girls— Girls that are a mother's right hand, That fathers and brothers can trust to, And the little ones understand. The girls that are fair on the hearthstone, And pleasant when nobody sees; Kind and sweet to their own folks, Ready and anxious to please. The girls that are wanted are wise girls, That know what to do and to say; That drive with a smile and soft word The wrath of the household away. The girls that are wanted are girls of sense, Whom fashion can never deceive; Who can follow whatever is pretty, And dare what is silly to leave. The girls that are wanted are careful girls, Who count what a thing will cost. Who use with a prudent generous hand, But see that nothing is lost. The girls that are wanted are girls with hearts, They are wanted for mothers and wives, Wanted to cradle in loving arms The strongest and frailest lives. The clever, the witty, the brilliant girl, There are few who can understand, But, oh! for the wise, loving home girls There's a constant steady demand. |
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Girl's Names Francis, is "unrestrained and free;" Bertha, "pellucid, purely bright;" Clara, "clear" as the crystal sea; Lucy, a star of radiant "light;" Catherine, is "pure" as mountain air; Barbara, cometh "from afar;" Mabel, is "like a lily fair;" Henrietta, a soft, sweet "star;" Felicia, is a "happy girl;" Matilda, is a "lady true;" Margaret, is a shining "pearl;" Rebecca, "with the faithful few;" Susan, is a "lily white;" Jane has the "willow's" curve and grace; Cecilia, dear, is "dim of sight;" Sophia, shows "wisdom" on her face; Constance, is firm and "resolute;" Grace, a delicious "favour meet;" Charlotte, "noble, of good repute;" Harriet, a fine "odour sweet;" Isabella, is "a lady rare;" Lucinda, "constant" as the day; Maria, means a "lady fair;" Abigail, "joyful as the May;" Elizabeth, "an oath of trust;" Adeline, "nice princess, proud;" Agatha, "is truly good and just;" Leila, "a joy of love avowed;" Jemima, "a soft sound in air;" Caroline, "a sweet spirit, hale;" Cornelia, "harmonious and fair;" Selina, "a sweet nightingale;" Lydia, "a refreshing well;" Judith, "a song of sacred praise;" Julia, "a jewel none excel;" Priscilla, "ancient of days." |
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Kate There's something in the name of Kate Which many will condemn; But listen now while I relate The traits of some of them. There's deli-Kate, a modest dame, She's worthy of your love! She's nice and beautiful a flame, And gentle as a dove, Communi-Kate's intelligent, As we may well suppose; Her fruitful mind is ever bent On telling all she knows. There's intri-Kate, she's so obscure 'Tis hard to find her out; For she is often very sure To put your wits to rout. Prevari-Kate's a surly maid, She's sure to have her way; The cavilling, contrary jade, Objects to all you say. There's alter-Kate, a perfect pest; Much given to dispute; Her prattling tongue can never rest, You cannot her refute. Then dislo-Kate, is quite a fret, Who fails to gain her point; Her case is quite unfortunate And sorely out of joint. Equivo-Kate no one will woo— The thing would be absurd. She is so faithless and untrue, You cannot take her word. There's vindi-Kate, she's good and true, And strives with all her might Her duty faithfully to do And battles for the right. There's rusti-Kate, a country lass, Quite fond of rural scenes; She likes to ramble through the grass And through the evergreens. Of all the maidens you can find, There's none like edu-Kate; Because she elevates the mind And aims at something great. |
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Page 25—Girl Land
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Coles Electro-micro Scolding Machine For Scolding Naughty
Girls Cole's Electro-micro Scolding Machine is a combination of three instruments, the Phonograph, the Microphone, and the Wonderphone. The Phonograph is an instrument that will preserve words for any length of time. Any person can speak, sing, whistle, or scold into a Phonograph, and months or years afterwards by simply turning a handle the same sounds can be reproduced a dozen, a hundred, or a thousand times in the exact voice of the person who spoke them in; so that if a man or a woman, who is a great scold, speak some good, loud, severe scolding into a Phonograph, the mildest teacher can then scold her pupils, or the kindest mother her children, just by turning the handle. The Microphone is an instrument that magnifies sound in the same way as a microscope magnifies objects; a very powerful microphone magnifies the sound of a fly walking into a loud tramping footstep, the tick of a watch into a deafening clatter, and a whisper into a loud shout. Take a Microphone, then properly affix it to the Phonograph described above, and you have a good Scolding Machine; turn the handle, and as the Phonograph gives out the scoldings, the microphone part magnifies them so loudly that they are heard for a considerable distance. The Wonderphone (Cole's own secret) is another remarkable instrument; it will cause sound to travel very distinctly, but frightfully and equally loud, for forty miles in all directions; by attaching this powerful instrument to the combination of the other two, Cole's Electro-micro Scolding Machine is formed—and which is the first Scolding Machine ever invented. If the machine is already charged by having had some scolding spoken, or even whispered into it, give the handle a turn, and forty miles to the east, forty miles to the west, forty to the north, forty to the south, forty up in the sky, and down in the mines forty miles deep, in fact forty miles in every direction, everybody can clearly hear every word being said to the girl being scolded. Suppose for instance, Hannah Maria Smith had done something wrong in school, the schoolmistress could give the handle of the machine a turn, and it would scold her so loudly that her mother, and father, and brothers, and sisters, and uncles, and aunts, and friends, and those she didn't like would all hear her scolded. The machine can be charged on the instant by anyone scolding into it. In fact the whole value of Cole's Scolding Machine lies in its power to repeat out exceedingly loud whatever is spoken into it. If the schoolmistress chooses she can put the scolding into verse, so that all who hear it in the forty miles around, can more easily remember it. The machine that I have before me now, was charged this morning for an aristocratic school and speaks as follows:—Silence!! Attention!!! |
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Ada Alice Arabella Angelina Andal, Why do you talk for ever, such a tittle-tattling scandal? Betsy Bertha Bridget Belinda Bowing, Will you be quiet and go on with your sewing? Cora Caroline Christina Clarinda Clare, Now do look in the glass at your untidy hair. Dorah Dinah Dorothy Dorinda Dresson, You really must get on with your short drawing lesson. Edith Ellen Evelina Elizabeth Eadle, This makes this day your nineteenth broken needle. Fanny Florence Frederica Florinda Flynn, How cruel of you to prick Jane with a pin. Grace Gertrude Genevieve Georgina Grimble, You careless girl to lose your silver thimble. Hilda Hanna Harriet Henrietta Hawker, You really are a most inveterate talker. Ida Izod Irene Isabella Inching, You spiteful—stop that scratching and pinching. Jane Julia Josephine Jemima Jesson, Sit down at once and learn your music lesson. Kate Kester Katrina Kathleen Kent, You're vulgar, saucy, rude and insolent. Lizzie Letitia Lucretia Lorinda Loeries, You're the champion of the world for telling stories. Maud Mary Martha Matilda Moyes, Sends letters to, and flirts with, naughty boys. Nancy Nelly Ninette Naomi Nations, Shame of you to talk 'gainst other girls' relations. Olive Osberta Orphelia Octavia O'Dyke, Your conduct is outrageous and unladylike. Polly Patience Prudence Paulina Pitt, You really are our champion tell-tale-tit. Quilla Quintina Quinburga Quendrida Quirk, How very, very, dirty you have made your fancy-work. Rose Ruth Rachel Rebecca Ritting, Now stop that crying and get on with your knitting. Sarah Sophia Selina Susannah Stacies, Don't spoil your face by making those grimaces. Tilda Theresa Tabitha Theodora Tapping, You'd gain the prize if one was given for slapping. Una Ursula Urica Urania Urls, You'd gain the prize for teasing little girls. Venus Violet Victoria Veronica Vo-shi, Just learn your task and put away that crochet. Wilmett Walberg Winefride Wilhelmina Wriggling, Now once for all do stop that stupid giggling. Xenodice Xanthippe Xanthisa Xenophona X-cess, You think and talk of nothing else but dress! dress! Yana Yulga Yapeena Yestina Young, Will you behave yourself and just draw in your tongue. And lastly and worst of all, you, Zoe Zora Zillah Zenobia Zeen, How dare you! how dare you!! yes, how dare you!!! Sneer at the boy's new whipping Machine. |
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Notice To The Public If a schoolmistress chooses to live a hundred or a thousand miles away from her school, she can use the Scolding Machine by means of a Telephone attached thereto. One great advantage of the Electro-micro Scolding Machine is, that after it has been in use a short time the girls will all have been shamed into good behaviour; but the Machine will not become useless, as it can, without a farthing outlay, be turned into a Praising Machine, for it can be made to praise in a gentle voice as well as scold in a harsh one. In fact, as said above it will repeat in exact tones, anything that is recited, preached, sung, whistled, whispered, shouted, scolded or praised into it—and any of which will be heard for forty miles around. Cole can supply Scolding Machines from £5 to £50. A very good one (The Excelsior), price £10, can be charged in one minute, and set going like a musical box, and will sing, whistle, recite, preach, or scold away for a full hour without stopping. Cole would particularly recommend this one to the ladies, it would make a fine ornament for their own table. Final Notice Extraordinary—If the champion male scold of the world, and the champion female scold of the world, will call on Professor Cole, at the Book Arcade, Melbourne, he will give them both good wages, and find them constant employment at charging Scolding Machines. If any wife has got the champion male scold for a husband, she will please to let me know. If any husband has got the champion female scold for a wife, he will please to let me know—£10 bonus for information in each case. E.W. Cole |
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Page 26—Good Girls
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Jenny Lee An orphan child was Jenny Lee; Her father, he was dead. And very hard her mother worked; To get the children bread. In winter time, she often rose Long ere the day was light, And left her orphan family, Till dark again at night. And she would always say to Jane, Before she went away; "Be sure you mind the little ones, And don't go out to play. "Keep baby quiet in his bed, As long as he will lie; Then take him up, and dance him well, Don't leave him there to cry. "And don't let little Christopher, Get down into the street, For fear he meets an accident Beneath the horse's feet. "And mind about the fire, child, And keep a tidy floor; We never need be dirty, Jane, Although we may be poor. "Good-by my precious comforter, For all the neighbours say, That I can trust my little maid, Whenever I'm away." Then Jenny she was quite as proud As England's noble Queen, And she resolved to do the work, And keep the dwelling clean. She did not stop to waste her time, But very brisk was she, And worked as hard and cheerfully As any busy bee. If down upon the cottage floor Her little brother fell, She stroked the places tenderly, And kissed and made them well. And when the little babe was cross, As little babes will be, She nursed and danced it merrily, And fed it on her knee. But when they both were safe in bed, She neatly swept the hearth, And waited until her mother's step Came sounding up the path. Then open flew the cottage door, The weary mother smiled. "Ah! Jenny dear, what should I do, Without my precious child!" |
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Work Before Play "Mother has sent me to the well, To fetch a jug of water, And I am very glad to be A useful little daughter; That's why I cannot play With you and Mary Ann to-day. "Some afternoon I'll come with you, And make you wreaths and posies; I know a place where blue-bells grow, And daisies and primroses; But not to-day, for I must go And help my mother, dears, you know. "She says, that I am nearly eight, So I can fill the kettle, And sweep the room and clean the grate, And even scrub a little; Oh! I'm so very glad to be A little useful girl, you see. "So Johnny, do not ask to-day— Perhaps I'll come to morrow; But you'd not wish me now to stay, And give my mother sorrow. When she can spare me, she will say, 'Now, Susan, you may go and play.'" |
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Lucy Gray Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray; And, when I crossed the wild, I managed to see at break of day The solitary child. No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wide moor,— The sweetest thing that ever grew Besides a human door! You yet may spy the fawn at play, The hare upon the green; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. "To-night will be a stormy night— You to the town must go; And take a lantern, child, to light Your mother through the snow." "That, father, will I gladly do! 'Tis scarcely afternoon— The minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the moon." At this the father raised his book And snapped a faggot band; He piled his work,—and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. Not blither is the mountain roe; With many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow, That rises up like smoke. The storm came on before it's time; She wandered up and down; And many a hill did Lucy climb, But never reached the town. The wretched parents all that night Went shouting far and wide, But there was neither sound or sight To serve them for a guide. At day-break on a hill they stood That overlooked the moor; And thence they saw the bridge of wood A furlong from their door. And, turning homeward, now they cried "In heaven we shall meet!" When in the snow the mother spied The print of Lucy's feet. Then downwards from the steep hill's edge They tracked the footmarks small; And through the broken hawthorn edge, And by the long stone wall. And then an open field they crossed— The marks were still the same; They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank The footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank; And further there were none! Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind. |
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Mary's Little Lamb Mary had a little lamb, It's fleece was white as snow; And everywhere that Mary went The lamb was sure to go. He followed her to school one day— That was against the rule; It made the children laugh and play, To see a lamb at school. The teacher therefore turned him out; But still he lingered near, And on the grass he played about Till Mary did appear. At once he ran to her, and laid His head upon her arm, As if to say, I'm not afraid— You'll keep me from all harm. "What makes the lamb love Mary so?" The little children cry; "Oh! Mary loves the lamb you know," The teacher did reply. |
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Page 27—Girl Land
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We are Seven I met a little cottage girl; She was eight years old, she said; Her head was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad; Her eyes were fair, and very fair, Her beauty made me glad. "Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering, looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell." She answered, "Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea. "Two of us in the churchyard lie— My sister and my brother; And in the churchyard cottage I Dwell near them with my mother." "You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea; Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell, Sweet maid how this may be?" Then did the little maid reply, Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree." "You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive! If two are in the churchyard laid, Then ye are only five." "Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied; "Twelve steps or more, from my mother's door, And they are side by side. "My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit, I sit and sing to them. "And often after sunset, sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there. "The first that died was little Jane; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain, And then she went away. "So in the churchyard she was laid; And, when the grass was dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I. "And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side." "How many are you then? said I, "If they two are in heaven!" The little maiden did reply "O master! we are seven." "But they are dead; those two are dead; Their spirits are in heaven!" 'Twas throwing words away; for still The little maid would have her will, And say, "Nay, we are seven." |
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The Poor, but Kind Girl Young Lucy Payne lives on the Village Green; Mary, you know the cottage, I am sure, Under the hawthorn! 'Tis so neat and clean, Though Widow Payne, alas! is blind and poor. She plies her needles, and she plies them well, And Lucy never spends an idle hour; On market days their mits and socks they sell, And thus their balls of worsted turn to flour. I pass'd one morning by their cottage door; Lucy was talking to a little child, A ragged thing that lives upon the moor; It's parents leave it to run rude and wild. Hanger had tamed the little wilding thing, It's cheeks were hollow, but it's air was light; Young Lucy did not know I saw her bring That porringer she kept so clean and bright. It was her breakfast—all the darling had; But oh! she gave it with a heart so glad. |
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Grace Darling "Over the wave, the stormy wave, Hasten, dear father, with me, The crew to save from a wat'ry grave, Deep in the merciless sea. Hear ye the shriek, the piercing shriek, Hear ye the cry of despair? With courage quick the wreck we'll seek; Danger united we'll dare. "Out with the boat, the gallant boat; Not a moment to be lost; See! she's afloat, proudly afloat, And high on the waves we're tossed; Mother, Adieu, a short adieu; Your prayers will rise to heaven; Father to you—your child and you— Power to save is given. "I have no fear, no maiden fear; My heart is firm to the deed, I shed no tear, no coward tear; I've strength in time of need. Hear ye the crash, the horrid crash? Their mast over the side is gone; Yet on we dash, 'mid lightning flash, Safe through the pelting storm. "The wreck we near, the wreck we near, Our bonny boat seems to fly, List to the cheer, their welcome cheer, They know that succour is nigh." And on that night, that dreadful night, The father and daughter brave, With strengthened might they both unite, And many dear lives they save. Hail to the maid, the fearless maid, The maid of matchless worth; She'll e'er abide the cherished pride Of the land that gave her birth. The send her gold, her name high uphold, Honour and praise to impart; But, with true regard, the loved reward Is the joy of her own brave heart. |
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The Tidy Girl Who is it each day in the week may be seen, With her hair short and smooth, and her hands and face clean; In a stout cotton gown, of dark and light blue, Though old, so well mended, you'd take it for new; Her handkerchief tidily pinned o'er her neck. With a neat little cap, and an apron of check; Her shoes and her stockings all sound and all clean? She's never fine outside and dirty within. Go visit her cottage, though humble and poor. 'Tis so neat and so clean you might eat off the floor; No rubbish, no cobwebs, no dirt can be found, Though you hunt every corner, and search all around. Who sweeps it so nicely, who makes all the bread, Who tends her sick mother, and works by her bed? 'Tis the neat, tidy girl—she needs no other name; Abroad or at home, she is always the same. |
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I Will be Good To-Day "I will be good, dear mother," I heard a sweet child say; "I will be good; now watch me— I will be good all day." Oh, many, many, bitter tears 'Twould save us, did we say, Like that dear child, with earnest heart, "I will be good to-day." |
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My Own Dear Little Sister I have a little sister, She's only three years old; I do most dearly love her, She's worth her weight in gold. We often play together And I begin to find, To make my sister happy, I must be very kind. |
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Page 28—Ruby Cole And Her Clever Frog
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What Our Ruby Did She danced like a Fairy, She sung like a Frog, She squeaked like a Pig, She barked like a dog. Oh yes! Oh yes! She did! She Did! And Frog-gy played a tune. She mooed like a Bullock, She baaed like a Ram, She leaped like a Goat, She skipped like a Lamb—Oh yes! She brayed like a Donkey, She cried like a Hare, She neighed like a Horse, She growled like a Bear!—Oh yes! She munched like a Rabbit, She gnawed like a Rat, She popped like a Mouse, She flew like a Bat—Oh yes! She talked like a Parrot, She quacked like a Drake, She mewed like a Cat, She hissed like a Snake—Oh yes! She climbed like a Squirrel, She flopped like a Seal, She ran like a Deer, She slid like an Eel—Oh yes! She crept like a Tortoise, She soared like a Lark, She drank like a Fish, She ate like a Shark—Oh yes! She roared like a Lion, She dived like a Whale, She swam like a Goose, She crawled like a Snail—Oh yes! She croaked like a Raven, She screeched like an Owl, She cawed like a Crow, She crowed like a Fowl—Oh yes! She grinned like a Monkey, She hummed like a Bee, She buzzed like a Fly, She jumped like a Flea—Oh yes! |
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Our dear little daughter once went to a children's ball dressed as a
fairy. She was proud of being a fairy, and looked so nice that I put
together the above nursery doggerel to please her, and in honour of
the event, little thinking that she would soon leave this world. It
might be considered better by some to remove this page, but as
children like it I venture to let it stand with this explanation.
E. W. C. |
| Sacred to the Memory of our dear LITTLE RUBY, who departed this life March 27th, 1890, aged 8 years. She was intelligent, industrious, affectionate and sociable, and is deeply regretted by all who knew her. |