Title Page
 Address to reader
 Lines addressed to my young friend...
 The May Queen; or, self-forget...
 The heathen boy's inquiry
 The children's fright
 The morning walk
 Charley's pet
 The big green fly
 Little Willie
 The memory of departed joys
 The discontented little squirr...
 The little match boy
 The little boy and the bird
 The kitten
 Little George; or, honesty is the...
 The two pigs
 The last story; or, Henry and the...
 Cousin Mary's book of stories....
 Learning to go alone
 No breakfast for growler
 The vain little girl
 Of what are your clothes' made
 The little baby
 The horse
 The dog
 The cat
 The eagle
 Father's gift
 Little boy's own book
 Mother's present
 Little girl's own book
 Mother's night cap
 At prayer

Title: Cousin Kate and Cousin Mary's first book of stories
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002746/00001
 Material Information
Title: Cousin Kate and Cousin Mary's first book of stories for little friends ; with numerous engravings
Alternate Title: Cousin Kate's stories
Physical Description: 148, <11> p., <8> leaves of plates : ill. ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Bell, Catherine D ( Catherine Douglas ), d. 1861
Cozans, Philip J ( Publisher )
Publisher: Philip J. Cozans
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: 1853
Subject: Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1853   ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1853   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1853
Genre: Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
poetry   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00002746
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002224810
oclc - 04942274
notis - ALG5078
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Address to reader
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Lines addressed to my young friend Charles Leslie Morgan
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
    The May Queen; or, self-forgetfulness
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    The heathen boy's inquiry
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    The children's fright
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
    The morning walk
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    Charley's pet
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    The big green fly
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Little Willie
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
    The memory of departed joys
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    The discontented little squirrels
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
    The little match boy
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
    The little boy and the bird
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
    The kitten
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
    Little George; or, honesty is the best policy
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
    The two pigs
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
    The last story; or, Henry and the peach
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
    Cousin Mary's book of stories. The noisy nursery
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
    Learning to go alone
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
    No breakfast for growler
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
    The vain little girl
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
    Of what are your clothes' made
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
    The little baby
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
    The horse
        Page 151
    The dog
        Page 152
    The cat
        Page 153
    The eagle
        Page 154
    Father's gift
        Page 155
    Little boy's own book
        Page 156
    Mother's present
        Page 157
    Little girl's own book
        Page 158
    Mother's night cap
        Page 159
    At prayer
        Page 160
Full Text

c o u












When the following stories were first thought of,
they were orally repeated to amuse tnd gratify some of
my little Friends, and I had no idea or intention at that
time of publishing them in book form: but since then,
I have been induced to commit them to writing, at the
earnest request of those who thought they were worthy
of publication; and I hope they will not only meet with
a favorable reception from many PAnnTra, GoAnIns
and TEACHER: but serve to amuse and instruct, a
much greater number of children than the small domes-
tic circle of "LT =LE FRIEws," who first listened to
their recital, by
rsan W :al'


EAR Little friend, will you accept,
hAnd may token of my lile tale
And may hse ofh ble lelile tove
A source of pleasure prove.

When evening shadows gathered round,
Ah! I remember well,
How oft you'd sit upon my knee,
If stories I would tell.

And how your little sisters too,
Would leave their books and plays,
And sit on either side to hear
About my childhood days.

And how you lov'd to hear about,
The Squirrel," and the Fly,"
"The naughty boy who-stole a peach"
Then told a wicked lie.

When all the tales I could invent,
Were told you, o'er, and o'er;
You'd pay me for them with a kiss,
And beg for "just OnE more."


Dear Lellie, you have not forgot,
The day we one and all,
Went in the woods to gather nuts,
And saw that big tree fall.

And how you said it made you feel
So sad, and sorrowful;
To see that noble tree cut down,
When it with nuts was full.

Our baskets soon were fill'd with nub,
As brown as they could be;
And in your joy you quite forgot,
Your sorrow for the tree.

And when upon the sandy beach,.
That pleasant aay we strolled;
To gather shells, or find sea weeds,
How high the white waves rolPd I


Those happy days-those merry times;
I never can forget;
When I am old, they'll have a place,
Within my memory yet.

When many years have passed away,
And you a man will be;
While thinking of these childish sports,
Lellie, remember me.

TnHE May Spirit flitted abroad on the earth,
Imparting to all a feeling of mirth;
The old aud the'young, the grave and
the gay,
Rejoiod a they. halo'd another May-day.


The children all danc'd around the May-pole,
With garlands of flowers, blue, crimson and
The early bud beckoned them off to the wood,
Where a moss cover'd rock for centuries stood.

A throne for thpir May-Queen, this rock had
oft been,
Around it was spread a soft carpet of green,
A wide spreading chestnut, a canopy made,
And choirs of wild birds sang in its shade.

A whisper of happiness spread through the
Of the past joyous May days they'd often
spent there;
The children were gathered upon the broad
And waited impatiently for their May Queen.


They waited and waited, but all was in vain,
And loudly they called but no Alice came,
Another was chosen, and plac'd on the throne,
And the sports of the day went merrily on.

But where was their AuCE, their favorite
Queen ?
We'll follow her footsteps and see where
she's been;
While tripping along, with her heart full of
She passed by the cottage of blind Jennie Lee.

Said she to herself "I'll just stop for awhile,
And read to poor Jennie, an hour to beguile.
Her days are so dreary since she cannot see,
If I read from her Bible how pleased she
will be."

14 coUSIN KATE s

Forgetting her playmates, her crown, and
her throne,
She read to blind Jennie in comforting tone,
Till the tears trickled down on her pale
withered cheek,
And check'd the glad words she endeavor'd
. to speak.

Our Alice, then bade her a gentle "good
And turning the corner-who next did she
'Twas a little lame boy whoso wistfully looks
That she mused for a while-then ran for-her

But this was not all, she pmething else had
To give to the lame boy, to make him less

'Twas a hand full of toys, they were soon all
his own,
'Twas the happiest May-day she ever had

Her heart was so full of those missions of love,
That she car'd not for garland, for May-pole
or grove;
But flitted about like a gentle sun beam,
In garret, and cottage, her form might be seen.

The lamp of pure love, she had lighted again,
InSthose hearts that were crushed, by sorrow
and pain;
The fragrance of wild flowers, to sick rooms
she bore,
Nor wearied of kind acts, till day-light was


As night drew her curtains, o'er land and
o'er sea,
The May party told gentle Alice with glee,
That they waited for her, then chose a new
How happy they were-how merry they'd
She smiled when she saw them so joyous
and free,
And truly she hop'd they were happy as she,
With merry "good night," they all parted
Their hearts fall of pleasure, unmingled with
Now the May Spirit whisper'd to all her
young friends,
That at midnight she' d fly to the earth's
very ends;

And all their good deeds, as gifts she'd
On the purest young brow, a crown she
would leave.

So when they all slept, ,on their soft little
The May Spirit flew o'er their dreamy young
And smiled, as she saw beside each of them
Pure thoughts, and kind deeds, as their gifts
for the day.

She passed by them all,-till she stood by the
Of one that she gaz'd on, with feelings of

18 couSI KATE'

"Oh! here is the best gift," the May Spirit
And an angel then placed a bright crown
on her head.

Forgetful of self, she had wandered all day,
Mid the sick, and the poor, forsaken her play,
Not caring for self she to all did impart,
The sunshine that comes from a generous

Unconsciously, Alice still wears her bright
As she does her good deeds, it shines all
Her years fly away, as on fairy like wings,
As she tastes of the joys, sedfforgetfuness

T EACHEt tell me if you please,
Who made the pleasant evening breeze,
That comes so gently through thetrees-
And fans my brow?

Who made the mountain tops so high;
And painted o'er the clear blue sky;
Who taught the little birds to fly-
And sing so sweet?

Who made the sun to shine so bright,
The stars that twinkle in the night,
And moon that sheds her silvery light,
On all around?

'Twas God, my child who made them all,
All living things, both great and small;
That walk, or swim, or fly, or crawl,
Were made, by Him. -

He hath made thee too, and given,
A soul, immortal, ever-living,
To dwell hereafter in that Heaven,
Where good men good men go.

T was storm night in June;
The rain fell thick and fast;
And patter'd againstt the window-panes
When driven by the blast.

The thunder rolFd in heavy peals,
Along the blackea'd sky;
And lightning darted from the clouds,
As they went rolling by.

Within a cottage small, there were,
Some children at their play;
They laugh'd, and talk'd amid the storm,
To drive their fears away.

A dreadful blast swept wailing by,
Still louder than before;
And whirl'd and rustled through the trees,
And filld their souls'ith 'e. *

Again'the wind was hush'd so low,
They scarce could hear a sound;
Then burst there forth a thunder-clap,
That seemed to shake the ground.


The children near each other drew,
More frightened than before,
For now they heard a quick light step,
Close by the cottage door.

They wondered who would come abroad,
On such a stormy night;
And thought that nothing but a ghost,
Could step so quick and light.

They quickly gathered round the door,
Determined to find out;
" Who's there ?" cried one with trembling
As loud as, he could shout.
No answer came-they heard the step,
Still nearer, nearer draw,
At last it stopped, and gently tapp'd,
Against the cottage door.


"Who's there 7" again they all cried out,
Still-louder than before;
But still no answer came, except
The tapping at the door.

"We'll make you speak!" one bold boy
"You shall not stand out there,
And knock against our door unless
You tell 'us who you are."

They arm'd themselves with brooms and
Then march'd in fierce army;
With lamp in hand, to find the cause,
Of this most strange affray.

They gently lifted up the latch,
And opened wide the door,

They started back in wild surprise,
What think you they saw there ?

A little lambpall drenched with rain,
Had sought a shelter there;
And as the children gathered round,
It gave a plaintive B-a-a.

The rain had ceas'd, the clouds were gone,
The moon shone bright and clear,
Now that they saw, the fancied Ghost,
They laugh'd-at all their fear.

They took the little wanderer in,
And wip'd it dry, and clean;
Then ran to tell their Pa, and Ma,
How frightened they had been.

They gave it some warm milk to drink,
A clean straw bed, they made;


For the poor weather-beaten ramb,
Who far from home had strayed.

This Lamb would never leave the friends
It found that stormy night;
And they all lov'd their pet too well,
To ever wish it might.

Since then, when e'er they hear a noise,
That fills their minds with awe,
They think about the Lamb they found,
Close by the cottage door,

GE f lHERE my child, hast thou been
Wf wandering,
On this bright and sunny day;
Through the fields, and near the fountains,
Where the silv'ry waters play ?"


" Yes dear mother, and I've gathered,
All these sweet wild flowers for thee;
I have seen the butterfly,
And the humming bird, and bee.

And I saw a pretty birds nest,
On a little bush so low;
I could count the pretty blue eggs,
When I was standing on tip toe.

"When these tiny eggs are hatched,
And some little birds there'll be;
Then may I put one in my cage,
To sing all day to me ?"

"Would it not be a cruel deed,
And fill my soul with rage;


Should some one take my little boy,
And shut him in a cage

Then do not grieve that mother-bird,
And fill her heart with pain,
By bearing off her nestling, where
She'll ne'er see it again."

#NE day as Charley crossed the yard,
I He spied a bold old rat;
Who long had liv'd about the house,
In spite of pussey Cat.


Said he, "I know now Where you live,
I saw your eyes of jet;
Just as you peep'd from out your hole,
I'll have you for my pet.

"I'll set my trap, so close your door,
You'll have to enter it;
Or else you cannot leave your nest;
To get your food one bit.

"So there you'll stay and starve to death,
Unless you take the cheese
I'll put within the trap for you,
So try it, if you please

"You will, not think it is a trap,
Though cunning you may be;
I know you'll take a peep within,
-Then Mr. Rat-we'll see!"


So Charley took a little box,
And made a door -to slide,
With trigger," where he put some cheese,
To coax the rat inside.

He placed it gently by the door,
Of Mr. Rat's abode;
Then ran away to fly his kite,
Upon a quiet road.

For there the wind blew fresh and strong,
And soon it mounted high;
And soared above the tallest trees,
Towards the clear -blue sky.

He sat him down, upon a stone,
To watch its upward flight;
His ball of string was soon unwound,
And it was out of sight.

He almost wished that he could fly,
High as his kite had gone;
And thought he then could reach the stars,
Or visit the bright moon.

But soon he thought about the trap,
That he had set at home;
And jumped up from his quiet seat,
For down his kite must come.

He quickly wound his string all in,
Then started off, full race,
Impatient, as he ever was,
To reach his destined place.

He mounted up a high stone wall,
Too eager far, to wait,
Till he could reach the other side,
Where swung an open gate.


,He gave a leap from off the wall,
Still hurrying all his might;
And caught his foot among the stones,
And fell upon his kite.

He scratched his face, and bruised his arm,
And broke his kite beside,
So down he sat upon the grass,
And lustily le cried

Again he thought about his trap,
And slowly he arose,
And brushed the tears from off his cheeks,
And dust from off his clothes.

He gathered up his broken kite,
And soon he reached the trap,
The door was shut-and well he knew,
Inside was Mr. Rat.

He took the trap up in his arms,
The rat began to squeal;
He danc'd, and laugh'd, and clapped his
So joyous did he feel.

He ran and cal'd his brothers all,
They speedily ran out;
And when they saw the rat was caught,
They gave a merry shout.

They put him in a wire cage,
And gave him bread and meat;
And soon the rat became so tame,
He'd let them watch him eat.

ONE summer's day, ill-natured Tray,
Lay sleeping by a stack;
A big green fly, came buzzing by,
And lit upon his back.

He gave one bite, then took his flight,
And lighted on a rail;
That he might see, how vex'd he'd be,
And snap'd at his own tail.

"'Tis always so, where e'er I go,"
The fly began to boast;
"For people who, get vexed like you,
Punish themselves the most."

Away he flew, to where he knew,
A patient cow there stood;
He thought he'd see, how still she'd be,
While he could sip her blood.

He gave one bite, with all his might-
She heeded not the pain;
He thought she stood, so still and good,
He'd try it once again.


He took one more-then half a score,
At last he gave a sting;
Her patience failed, she raised her tail,
And broke his bright green wing.

He tumbled down, upon the ground,
Unable quite to fly;
He tried in vain, to bear the pain,
And utter not a cry.

If any one can gain their fin,
From other people's pain;
They'll have to bear, at least, their share,
And take it back again.-


ESIDE a cottage fire there sat,
A widow lone, and sad;
A faithful dog to guard her door,
Was all the friend she had.


Her husband left his happy home,
To seek a foreign shore;
And long she looked, and wept for him,
But never saw him more.

For many a weary hour she sat,
Beside her sleeping child;
And listened to the billows roar#
Amid the Tempest wild.

Months passed away, the ship ne'er reached
This side the Atlantic's wave,
And much 'twas feared that all on board,
Had found a watery grave.

She soon was fore'd to leave her home,
That home she lov'd so well,
And seek a lowly cottage where,
Herself and child could dwell.


Her little stock of furniture,
Was soon arranged quite neat,
And Willie in thq casement played,
Some wild flowers fresh and sweet.

His little> hands were oft employed,
In gentle acts of love;
For then he thought his father's eye,
Looked kindly from above.

On summer evenings he would gaze,
Upon the sky so clear;
And beg his mother then to talk,
About his Father dear.

She told him of that better land,"
Where holy angels dwell;
And of the loving care of Him,
"Who doeth all things well."


She told him, all good men who die,
And leave this world of care,
Go to that happy home above,
And dwell for ever there,

She told him how her father died,
When she was quite a child;
And how her mother's reason fled,
For grief had made her, wild.

And how within but three short months,
Another grave was made;
Beside her father's grassy bed,
And there her mother laid.

How e'er another year had fled.
Her only brother died;
And in the churchyard there were placed,
These three graves, side by side.

He leaned his head upon her lap,
And when she ceased, to speak,
The big tears gathered in her eyes,
And fell upon his cheek.

"Dear mother," said the gentle boy,
Are they not all in Heaven?
And is my father in that home,
Which the- great God has given?

"Then do not weep, my mother dear!
For when we both shall die,
We'll meet them their happy home,
Beyond the clear blue sky."

The summer pass'd, and winter came,
With frost, and ice, and snow;
And rudely through t their humble cot,
The keen north winds did blow.


Before the dreary months had passed,
New anguish fill'd her breast;
Her precious child grew thin and pale,
And pain disturb'd his rest.

She watched o'er him with tender care,
And hop'd the genial spring,
Would soon restore his health and strength,
And cheerful spirits bring.

But when the leaves appeag'd, he grew,
Still feebler than before;
At length he scarce could walk so far,
As to the cottage door.

So when the sun shone clear, and warm,
His mother placed his chair,
Where he could see the trees, and flowers,
And birds fly through the air.


He had a faithful dog, who staid
Beside, him all the day;
He'd been his constant friend, and joined
In all his sports and play.

And now that little Willie sat,
So still from day to day,
He'd looklat him as if he'd ask,
Why don't you come and play ? "

" Good Carlo, I am very ill,
And you must play alone;
And you must be my mother's friend,
When little Willie's gone."

Poor Carlo looked so sorrowfl,
And turned aside his head,
As if he really understood,
What little Willie said.


His mother's care was all in vain,
She felt all hope had fled;
He grew still feebler than before,
And never left his bed.

One pleasant sabbath eve he lean'd,
His head upon her breast,
And watch'd the brilliant setting sun,
That crimson'd o'er the west.

"Dear mother, see how gently sinks
The sun behind that cloud;
So calmly would I leave this world,
For Heaven's blest abode.
"And mother will ydu let me lay,
Beneath the willow tree?
And plant the rose bush by my grave,
That father gave to me.

"I wish dear mother, you would go,
With me to my new home;
But do not weep, it won't be long,
Before you too will come."

The mother kiss'd her dying boy,
And offered up a prayer,
For strength, in this her hour of need,
Her, lonely lot to bear.

The summer passed, and winter came,
And dreary was her lot;
No voice of mirth was ever heard,
Within her lonely cot.

The widow's heart was very sad,
She knew but little joy;
Her only comfort now had fled,
With this her darling boy.

60 ccsIm KATE'S

Beside her cottage fire she sat,
So patient, lone, and sad;
Her faithful dog to guard her door,
Was all the friend she had.


W HEN I was quite a little child,
Ab, I remember well;
My fathered take me on his knee,
And pretty stories tell.


I had a little brother too,
And Edwin was his name;
He'd sit upon his little stool,
And listen to the same.

On Sabbath evening's when the sun,
Sunk down behind the hills;
We'd wander by the little stream,
That turn'd my father's mills.

9r sit beneath a spreading elm,
And little hymns repeat;
Oh; many lessons have we learned,
Upon that grassy seat.

On sultry, summer days, we'd plunge
Beneath its cooling tide;
And when the stream was frozen up,
We on the ice would slide.

64 Q

But many years have pass'd since then,
The father I so lov'd,
And brother too, were called to share,
A better home above..

I know I never can forget,
How happy we were then;
I'll think of them, as sunny spots,
Until we meet again.


SEP in the forest shade,
There stood an old oak tree,
Where two grey squirrels lived,


as snug could


Far, far up in the top,
A hollow place they found; -
So there they made their nest,
And linedit all around.

And in this little nest,
Two little squirrels lay;
Their parents brought them nuts,,
And acorns every day.

Now in a little while,
They both so big had grown,
Their mother thought she'd leave t
Them for a while aloie.

Upon their native tree,
She told them they must stay,
For if they went abroad,
They'd surely loose their way.


They protbis'd they would be,
Quite good while she was gone;
Provided she would bring
Them some ripe grains of corn.

"I hope my dear's you'll be,
Quite' good while we are gone,
Because you know 'tis right,
And not for grains of com."

They bade them both good bye,"
Then hastened down the tree;
Their young Ones watched their steps,
A far as they could see.

Thenhid among the leaves,
And chased each other round,
Leaping from branch to branch,
Until they reached the ground.

nooK 0o STORES.

Dick, shouted in dismay,
"Oh brother don't you know,
Our parents bid us not to strays
Nor from our tree to go!"

"Yes Dick, but come and taste,
How nice these chestnuts are;
And take a little run,
We wont go very far."

These naughty squirrels-thought,
Their parents would not care;
In fact, they'd never know
That they had been down there !

They ate as many nuts,
As they could well contain,
Then scrambled up the tree,
To seek their nest again.


They leap from branch, to branch,
From top to trunk they roam;
But cannot find a spot,
That looks at all like home.

They wonder all the while,
What can the reason be!
At last they both conclude,
They've come up the wrong tree

They quickly turned about,
And down they ran again;
Then up another tree,
With all their might and main.

They eager looked around,
To find their quiet home,
In every knot hole ran,
To which they chanc'd to come.


At length they came to one,
They surely thought their own;
Tired and out of breath,
They quickly hasten down.

A pair of monstrous eyes,
As big as their own head;
And round as two full moons,
Inspir'd them with dread.

They both remembered now,
They'd heard their father say,
'Twas there an old night owl,
Conceal'd himself by day.

Now frightened near to death,
They very quickly fled;
And hastened down the tree,
Both tumbling heels o'er head.


They knew not where to go,
They could not find their nest;
And now they had to own,
Their parents did know best.

When the old Squirrels came,
With 'their ripe grains of corn,
They knew not what to think,
When finding they were gone.

They laid their corn aside,
And looking al around,
Their little squirrels spied,
SOn that forbidden ground.

They saw them run about,
And climb from ttee to tree;
And knew they'd lost their way,
But still they'd let them be.

They left them to themselves,
To find out their own way;
Fit punishment they thought,
For those who disobey.

-But when they thought they'd looked,
Quite long enough in vain,
They went and brought them back,
To their snug home again.

These little squirrels learn'd,
A lesson on that day;
Dear children, from them learn
Youi parents to obey.


midnight hour,

the moon shone


When waking from my slumbers light,

I heard a loud and mournful cry,
That seem'd, to come from one, near by.


The sobs, and cries that fil'd the air,
Were like a child's, in deep despair;
And wondering who at such an hour,
So keenly felt affictions power.

My window I threw open wide,
And there a little boy I spied;
Alone, upon the steps he sat,
With feet quite bare, and tatter'd hat.

His basket soon his story told,
He matches, pins, and blacking sold;
I asked him why he sat and cried ?
He checked his sobs, and hard he tried,
To tell me all his tale of woe,
Why to his home, he did not go.

"This morningwhen I left my home,
My father told me not to come


Back there again, until I sold -
The matches that my basket hold.

' I've tried my bestJrom morn, till night,
Cried matches! too with all my might,
Till I'm so hoarse I scarce can speak;
And now a'whipping I must take,
For father said he'd whip me well,
If I my matches did not sell."

His tears flow'd freely all the while;-
He soon exchanged them for a smile;
For in his hand I quickly laid,
More than for all his matches paid,

I griev'd that one so young should know,
So much of poverty and woe;
And that a parent's harshness drove
Him from the home he ought to love.


902MAg MY MM s M OIL

EAR little bird upon the tree,
I pray you sing a song to me,
For your notes I love to hear,
Ringing forth so sweet'and clear.

When the day begins to dawn,
Then I hear you on the lawn;
You fly about from tree to tree,
And sing Ter-wit, ter-wit, ter-wee "

I wish I were a bird like thee,
Living in some shady tree!
My pretty bird, you'd show me how,
To build my nest upon a bough.

A pair of feathered wings I'd wear,
And soar with thee, high in the air;
Mother'd be glad I was a bird,
When e'er my pretty song she heard.

IKnow a funny little boy,
Who had, a playful pet;
It was a kitten, with grey eyes,
And a coat as black as jet.

86 Ccousi AT'S
He thought one day he'd like to try,
And make her coat look white;
So puss was in the water plung'd,
And rubb'd with all his might.

He could not change a single hair,
And puss did loudly cry;
So then be thought of something else,
That he was bound to try.

He took his cat all dripping wet,
And to a pantry went;
He there a flour barrel spied,
And in poor puss was sent.

She scrambled out, and sure enough,
Her coat was white as snow;
But how to make her hair look smooth,
He really did not know.


So kitty had another bath,-
His mother washed her clean;
And now he thinks a jet black cat,
The prettiest ever seen.


.9 WAS bleak and cold; the wind wa
f' high,
a And down along the blackened sky,
Thick clouds that with a sullen frown,
Shed rain and sleet upon the ground.

The people all looked blue with cold,
And closer still their cloaks they'd fold;
And all their heads in reverence bead,
When e'er king Storm a gust would send.

Twas on a night like-this I'm told,
A little boy just ten years old;
Walk'd slowly home with sorry face,
Because he could not find a place.

His mother bade him sit beside
The fire, and get his clothes well dried;
While she'd thejr frugal meal prepare,
For scanty was their evening's share.

He told his mother, how in vain
Had been his efforts to obtain
A place where he could money earn,
To purchase food, or coal to burn.


"Dear mother could they but have seen,
How pale you are, how ill you've been,
I'm sure they would your poor boy take,
And give him work for your dear sake."

His mother turned with looks of'love,
And bade him trust their friend above,
Who cares for al, in hours of need,
And e'en the hungry ravens feed.

That evening they both knelt in prayer,
And crav'd God's blessing and His care;'
They ask'd to pray, like T dear Son,
Oh God, Thy will, not mine be done.
Next day was Sunday, George arose
And brushing clean his thread bare clothes,
He hastened off to join his class,
For there an hour he lov'd to pass

BMox or STOR S. 98
When all their lessons were complete,
And class-mates all had let their seat,
He ask'd his Teacher if he knew
iherehe could get some work to do.

"Did I not see you yesterday
When from & store you iuri'd away
Come, tell me why you'd not remain
With them, and thus a living gain."

" Because they grog and liquor's-sold,"
George firmly said, with looks so bold,
That showed W courage and the will,
To tell the truth, and shun what's ill.

" And then my boy, when you had found
That piece of gold upon the ground,
Why did you give it Mr. Wood,
Instead of buying you some food?"


He answered with decided tone;
"The money Sir, was not my own;
And Mr. Wood was very kind,
And said he'd soon the owner find."

"He did my boy," his Teacher said,
And gently stroked his curly head;
"I lost that money yesterday,
And saw you as you turned away.

V' Now come to-morrow to my store,
In St. John's street, at number four;
And there a place I think you'll find,
And steady work if you're inclin'd."

George hastened home with happy heart,
The joyful tidings to impart;
And to his lowly coach that night,
Came dreams of joy, and fancies bright.

Soon as the morning sky was red,
He started from his clean straw bed,
And water brought, and gathered wood,
To help his mother all he could.

When these were done, his hands were
His hair was comb'd, and clothes were
Then he ran off to find the store,
In St. John's street at number four.

His Teacher met him at the door,
And spoke as kindly as before;
And gave him work enough to do,
With time to read and study too.

When this his first day's work was done,
His Teacher bade him carry home,


A basket full of bread and cheese,
Potatoes, ham, and some split peas.

Around their little room that night,
Their fire threw a cheerful light;
Their table too, displayed far more,
Of comfort, than for weeks before,
Many years have passed since then-
George is as tall as most of men;
He with his Teacher yet remains,
His mother too he still maintains.

They in a little cottage live,
Enjoying all that health can give;
His mother prays with tears of joy,
" God bless thee George, my rioNEr boy."


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