Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Pretty little poems for pretty...
 The slave: A juvenile drama
 Back Matter

Title: Pretty little poems for pretty little people
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00003640/00001
 Material Information
Title: Pretty little poems for pretty little people
Alternate Title: Pretty little poems
Slave, a juvenile drama
Physical Description: 144 p. : ; 13 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Watts, Louisa
Billing, J ( Printer )
Thomas Allman and Son ( Publisher )
Publisher: Thomas Allman and Son
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: J. Billing
Publication Date: 1854
Subject: Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Slavery -- Juvenile drama   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1854   ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1854   ( rbbin )
Genre: Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
poetry   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Statement of Responsibility: by Louisa Watts, authoress of "Pretty little hymns," etc.
General Note: Includes "The slave, a juvenile drama" on p. <121>-144.
General Note: "Second series."
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00003640
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002447364
oclc - 46638036
notis - AMF2619
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Title Page
        Page i
        Page ii
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Table of Contents
        Page v
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Pretty little poems for pretty little people
        Page 9
        Page 10
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        Page 119
        Page 120
    The slave: A juvenile drama
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
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        Page 144
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
Full Text










THE Authoress of Pretty Little Hymns and Pretty
Little Poems presents to her young readers a Second
Series of the latter, which she trusts will be as
pleasing and acceptable to them as were the first;
and as precept and example are combined in most
of the poems, she hopes her chief desire will be
fulfilled, by their being also useful; for should any
child discover in the tales of Naughty Children her
own character, and be led to alter her conduct, she
will not have read, nor will the writer have written
in vain.

London, March 1854.


Getting Up
Gonog to Bed
The Greedy Boy
Gam-r of Queens ..
Invitation Game
The W-orm
Water \Cresses
The Obedient Child
The Diso\edient Child
Song to thv Lark
Spring .. .
The Idle Matilda ..
Industrious Xmma
Rude Thomas
Polite Little An.
How to Behave-t Table.
Active Harry ..
Indolent Jobhn
Capital Fun ..
The Farm House Visit

* .. .. .. 9
.. ib.
.. .... .. 11
.. .... .... 12
.. .... 13
.. ... .. 14
.... .. 15
S.. .. .. .. 16
... .. .. 17
.. .. .... 18
S .. ...... 19

.. 21
.. .. .. .. .. 22
.... .. .. 23

.. .. .... 26

S .. .. 27

Going Fishing .. .. .. ...28
The Orphan Boy .. .. .. .. .. .. 0
The Spider and Bee ... .. 30
The Chatter-Box .. .. .. 31
The Balloon. ... .. ... .. 3*2
Old In-Bred Sin .. .. .. .. 33
The Party .. .. .. .. .. 34
The Pic-Nic Party .. .. .. .. 35
Ridiculous Phrases .. .. .. .. 36
Playing at Marbles .. .. .. .. .. 37
Affectionate Harry .. .. .. .. .. 38
The Jealous Child .. .. 39
The Wax Doll .. .. .. .. .. 40
Going to Australia .. .... .. 41
Little Nelly .. .. .. .. .. .. 24
The Neglectful Child .. .. .. 43
The Sailor Boy .. .. ... .. 44
The Tel-Tale .. .. 45
A Serious Adventure .. .. .. .. 46
The Italian Boy .... 48
The Birthday Present .. .. .. .. 49
The Sad Fright .. .. .. 50
The Proud Girl .. .. .. .. 51
Playing with Lucifers .. .. .. 52
The Disagreeable Girl .. .. .. 53
The Spelling Class .. .. .. .. 54
The Sabbath .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 55
The Complaint .. .. .. .. .. .. 56
The Greedy Girl .. .. .. .. .. .. 57
The Ant .. .. .. .. .. .. 5
The Beggar .. .. .. .. .. .. 59
Benjamin Franklin .. .. .. .. .. 61
The Bellis Perennis .. .. .. .. 62
The Disobedient Child .. 64


The Little Boy and the Pear
The Ill-Spoken Young Lady
The Bible ..
The Two Sisters
The Present ..
Alice Green ..
Lucy Hill
The Ox and the Elephant
The Soldier's Dream
Boxing Jem
The Baker Boy and Peter the
The Dog Berry
Danish Cruelty ..
The Contented Cottager
Not Right .. .. ..
The Benevolent Child ..
The King and the Jester
Genius and Talent
The Dead Baby
King Saul
King David
The Rival Flowers
Old'Grundy the Fisherman
To him that Overcometh he

My throne saith the Saviour
The Martyrdom of Stephen

.. .. .. 66
.. .. 70
.. .. .. 72
.. 74
.. .. -. .. 75
*. .. .. 7
S .. .. .. 78
.. ** .. .. 82
Great .. .. 85
*.. *.. .. 87
.. .. 90
.. ~92
.. .. .. .. 94
... 94
.. .. .. .. 98
.. .. O8
.. .. .. 100
.. .. 102
.. .. .. .. 104
.. .... 109
sall sit with Me on
shall sit with Me on

. .. .. .. 114
*.. .. 118


0. .. 123






$rrnur erries.


CoMF;, Freddy, arise the sun in the skies
Is saying, Get up, little boy;
Lie no longer in bed, for over your head
The lark he is singing with joy.
There, look at the bee, how busy is he
In making nice honey to eat;
And if you make haste, and do not time waste,
You shall have some this morn for a treat.
There-now say your prayers, and hasten downstairs,
And run in the garden to play ;
There-now you are ready, here's a kiss for my
$o be a good boy all the day.



O, FIE, Mary, fie! 0, why do you cry ?
It is quite your bed-time you know;
The birds in their nest are seeking their rest,
And now you like them must do so.

There-now, if you pout, I shall put the light out,
And you must remain in the dark,
But if you are good, we will go in the wood
To-morrow, or else in the park.

Ah, a smile now appears, so dry lip your tears-
Be quick, for I want to go down-
Your prayers are now said, so jump into bed
With a kiss instead of a frown.


YoNo Nex was a fine but sad greedy boy:
He never would part with a plum or a toy,
And if any one gave his sister a cake,
You should hear what crying and noise he would



On the plates he at table would fix his large eyes
Then grumble and say, They have all more than I.
One day, as at table the family sat,
And his parents were having a business chat,
A large plum-pudding to table was brought,
And his eye with delight the sight of it caught;
He soon had a slice, and so smoking hot-
But wait till it cooled, 0, Neddy could not,
And piece after piece in his mouth he had put,
Till it was too full or to open or shut,-
And there to his mouth it stuck just like glue,
And burnt him so much he knew not what to do;
The table at last he was forced to leave,
And you cannot think how much he did grieve,
For he was not permitted again to return;
So he lost his pudding, but found a burn.


A little girl stands in the middle, the others form a
ring around her, and sing-
MERRILY, merrily dance around
Emily Jones, our queen,
She is the fairest we have found,
The best that we have seen,



We choose her not because she's rich,
Nor yet because she's fair;
We choose her because she is so good,
And we her goodness share.
Merrily, merrily then we dance,
And choose another queen ;
We clap our hands, and shout Hurrah!
For merry we all have been.

While clapping their hands, the ex-queen joins the
circle, and another child takes her place.


LITTLE maids, pretty maids, come with me,
Under the shade of the walnut-tree;
Little maids, pretty maids, come with me,
Under the shade of the walnut-tree.
Here is a ball and here is a bat,
You shall take this, and I will take that:
Or a skipping rope, if you like it the best,
Or a doll, if you like to sit and rest.
Then, little maids, pretty maids, come with me,
Under the shade of the walnut-tree ;
Little maids, pretty maids, come with me,
Under the shade of the walnut-tree.



Here is an arrow and here is a bow,
Which can shoot furthest we try you know;
When tired of that, we will dance and sing,
And make the woods with our merriment ring.
Then, little maids, pretty maids, come with me,
Under the shade of the walnut-tree;
Little maids, pretty maids, come with me,
Under the shade of the walnut-tree.

The boys are playing upon the green,
But we among them will not be seen,
Because it is rude to play with boys,
To make like them such a shout and noise.
Then, little maids, pretty maids, come with me,
Under the shade of the walnut-tree.


PooR worm, you need not hide your head,
For I upon you will not tread;
No, I would not so cruel be,
To tread on such a thing as thee.

For I have heard you are of use;
You with your little body loose
The earth, and fit it for the seed
Which grows to plants on which we feed.



Beside, why should I hurt a worm
That never did me any harm ?
And when so many creatures too,
Are waiting now to feed on you.

No, you may lift your little head,
And look about you without dread,
For I will guard you while I stay,
Until you choose to crawl away.


GET up. my little Ann and Fred,
No longer sleeping lie in bed ;
Listen to poor old Betty cry-
Come, buy my water cresses, buy.

What, do you think it is too soon ?
You want to lie in bed till noon;
Come, wake, and hear poor Betty cry-
Come, buy my water cresses, buy.

Well, if you lie in bed so late,
You never will be rich or great;
But like poor Betty, have to cry-
Come, buy my water cresses, buy.



No, you will now your lessons learn,
And bye-and-bye the money earn,
And not like Betty have to cry-
Come, buy my water cresses, buy.


O WHAT a delight when children do right,
Promptly and cheerfully too !
There is not a scene in the house of a queen,
Presents a more beautiful view.

The feet always ready, both quickly
To go wheresoever they're told;
The hand too, the thing they were
Not carelessly losing their hold.

and steady,

told to bring,

If a message is sent, their mind is intent
Correctly the words to repeat;
And manner and tone to servants have shewn,
That her disposition is sweet.

O this is a pleasure, that child is a treasure.
And who such a child would not be ;
It is loved and admired, and no one is tired
Of saying, O how good is she!



Performing your duty will, much more than beauty,
Admiration and favour obtain,
And love will last longer be firmer and stronger,
And after their death will remain.


O, HOW much vexation and painful dictation
Do children require who never
Do what they are told, unless you first scold,
And then but with looks of displeasure.

They heavily tread and hang down their head,
Or else shake their shoulders and pout,
And as to the thing they were sent to bring,
They tell you they cannot find out.

If a message they take to the servants, they make
Such mistakes they are not understood,
And if you could hear how they speak, then I fear
You would shocked be to hear them so rude.

Alas who can tell how many griefs swell
The bosom of parents so sad,
And unhappy too are all children who
Have a temper so wicked and bad.



As older they grow, to all that they know
They are cavilling, pert, and unkind,
And 0 it will be a sad grief to me,
If among such Louisa I find.


PRETTY lark, swift soaring high,
Upward to the bright blue sky,
How I love to hear the note
Thrilling from your tiny throat.

Is it true you sing to cheer
Your sweet mate, who's setting near,
On the eggs which soon will be
Pretty singing-birds like thee ?

0 how pleasing is the thought,
God hath you this kindness taught;
That a little worm should be
Loving, gentle, kind like thee.

0 you pretty, pretty Lark,
As your upward way I mark,
I well think I hear you say,
Little child, be kind to-day.




SPIRING, spring, beautiful spring,
Is coming again with busy wing.
Upon the hill, or down in the dale,
'We hear and see the welcome tale,
That spring, spring, beautiful spring,
Is coming again with busy wing.

The Pee it tells with its joyous hum
That beautiful spring again is come;
The cheering sun and refreshing shower
Call into life the bud and flower.
Music on earth, and music in air,
Tell us that beautiful spring is here.

Who sends the showers ? who sent the sun ?
And the pretty young lambs that so sportive run?
Who sends these delights for the eye and ear ?
Who, but a God, can make spring appear?
Spring, spring, beautiful spring,
We welcome, we welcome thy busy wing.




MATILDA was an idle child;
Whatever you might say,
It seldom had the least effect,
She only cared for play.

Matilda, get your book, and let
Me hear you say your letters;
And then she would begin to fret,
And move as if in fetters.

Matilda, get your sewing now,
Your crochet or your knitting ;
Oh no, mamma, I cannot now,
I am so tired of sitting.

Mamma, quite angry, one day said,
You are so naughty grown,
That you may with this piece of braid,
Play all day quite alone.




M1AMMA, dear mamma, do look what I've done,
I have finished my handkerchief quite,
I have learned all these words too, every one,
Will you hear me ? I think I am right.

Your work neatly done, and lessons said too,
You are very good, said mamma ;
I came in to bring glad tidings to you-
You are sent for to see your grandma.

Oh who can express little Emma's delight.
TWhen to her fond grandma she came ?
There was fruit, there was cake, but a doll dressed
in white,
To her notice soon laid the first claim.

That doll, said her grandma, my child is for you,
For you are an industrious child,
I hear you can spell, can knit, and can sew,
So will not by indulgence be spoiled.




COME, Mary, come and tie my shoe,
Said Thomas rudely to the maid;
I cannot, I have this to do,
In gentle accent Mary said.

Oh, but you must, I say,.and shall;
Do you think I shall wait for you ?
A dirty, saucy, servant girl ?
Mamma I'll tell, this minute too.

He said, then quickly turning round,
Behold papa, was standing by,
Thomas, with eyes cast on the ground,
Was passing him quite silently.

But his papa said, Sir, how dare
You speak to any servant so ?
Go to your bedroom, and stay there,
Till you can proper conduct show.




O WHAT a sweet child is little Miss Ann,
Said the servant, as out of the kitchen she ran ;
It is really delightful to see such a child,
She is always so gentle, obliging and mild.

Mamma wants you, Jane, will you please to go ?
I am sorry to trouble you just now though,-
In a tone of voice so soft and sweet,
Unlike what we often in children meet.

And then in the kitchen she does not stay,
To make mischief so soon as she's gone away ;
For though it is right to speak of what's wrong,
Such children as she is, are much too young.

And thus little Ann, wherever she goes,
Is a favourite always, you may suppose;
And the presents she has, if you could see,
I am sure you would like her, try so to be.




Miss CHARLOTTE, who had been well bred,
Once took it in her little head
Her doll to teach, as she was taught,
To sit at table as she ought.

First let me see your hands are clean,
And pinafore put on has been,
And then your grace be sure you say;
There, put your little hands this way.

Now hold your fork and spoon aright,
And mind that you are silent quite ;
Be sure you do not soil the cloth,
Nor yet too quickly fill your mouth.

If more you want, then you must wait,
And do not hold mamma your plate :
When you have dined, sit still till told
You may remove, or I shall scold.




YOUNG Harry was an active boy,
He always would himself employ;
In doors or out, at all times he
Was doing something you might see.

His ball or top, or hoop or kite,
When out of doors, gave him delight ;
And in doors, pencil, pen, or book,
He always for amusement took.

Though such an active boy was he,
At school, though he sat quietly,
He did not talk to other boys
Aloud, and play with trash or toys.

By doing what be had to do,
You may be sure he clever grew;
And I am sure by such a plan,
Hle will become an active man.




LITTLE John was no sooner up in the morning,
Than he would begin both stretching and yawning.
And then down to breakfast would lazily crawl,
As if he was fearful of having a fall.

When breakfast was over, he idle would sit,
But, oh, to mama so vexatious was it,
That she would compel him to take slate or book,
But he on them not more than a minute would look.

If told he to weed the garden must go,
He could not, he said, for his back would ache so;
Or into the garden to play, he could not,
Because it would make him so dreadfully hot.

But could such a boy a happy boy be ?
0 no, they could not, nor happy was he;
Such a boy, I fear, will a bad man grow,
And who would be such I do not know.



MAMA, we have had such a happy day,
Over hills and fields we run,
And in the long wood we lost our way,
But it was such capital fun.

We rode on the boughs of the large beech tree,
And all the deer started but one,
Which stood looking at us, as if to see
Us enjoy such capital fun.

Then we went to the meadow of Farmer Green,
And he gave us some beer and bun,
And toss'd the hay over us-you should have seen,
It was such capital fun.

I am glad you so happy have been, ma said,
But now it is time you had done:
So eat a good supper, and go to bed,
And dream of your capital fun.




SOME children to a farm-house went,
One fine long summer's day,
And surely children never had
A greater treat than they.

There, in the orchard, was a swing,
Permission they had too,
To eat of every kind of fruit
That in the garden grew.

One helped the maid the butter make,
And others pressed the cheese,
And then they tried to milk the cow-
O what delights were these.

Earth's pleasures all must have an end-
The children found this true;.
For they to town returned again,
School duties to pursue.




A LITTLE boy once a fishing would go,
But how to catch fish he did not know;
But he found on the dresser a large meat-hook,
And his way to the river he joyfully took.

Now his father beheld the little boy
With basket and hook trudge along with joy;
But he knew there was danger, so thought he too
Would follow and see what the child would do.

But he first ran into the house, and took
A fish that had been put away by cook ;
And then in the water he plunged it, where
The boy could get it by taking care.

He saw it, and great was the pains he took
To fish it up with his line and hook;
At last he obtained it, and who shall say
The delight of the child as he trudged away.




How the wind it doth blow, and look how the snow
Already has whitened the street :
And that poor little boy seems vainly to try
By stamping to warm his cold feet.

If I had to roam each day without home,
How dreadfully hard it would be ;
Were papa and mama to die very poor
Who then would take pity on me ?

You are right, my dear boy, thus your thoughts to
For this boy of whom you now speak,
Had father and mother, and sister and brother,
All die in less than a week.
He is a good lad, and is very glad
To be in the newsman's employ
I wish I was sure, that were you as poor,
You would be as industrious a boy.

Good conduct we find, when with industry joined,
Have raised many from a low station ;
While without them the great have fallen from that
To the meariest and worst degradation.



COME hither and see the spider and bee,
Themselves in the garden employ:
The bee is a rover, he wanders all over
The garden for profit and joy.

The spider he too pays visits a few,
But prefers most to sit in the shade ;
On the stem of a flower, for many an hour,
He works till his web he has made.

From woodbine and roses the bee it composes
The ingredients for honey and wax,
While from the same flower and in the same hour,
The spider the poison extracts.

Both insects are clever, but one it is ever
Employed only good to obtain;
But not so the other; one after another
Little insect he adds to the slain.

Thus, dear children, you, from much that you do-
May good or an evil obtain ;
But if your mind's eye is fix'd rightly, you'll try
To turn from the bad with disdain.




YOUNG chattering Susan would never be quiet,
She chatted and gossipped all day ;
If a question was asked she would reply to it,
And oft in an improper way.

If brothers, or sisters, or friends ever met
Round the table to work or to play ;
WVhoever you spoke to, before you could get
An answer, she something would say.

Beside, her replies were so frequently wrong,
As well as both flippant and rude;
She thought not, or else not sufficiently long,
To reply in the manner she should.

From gossiping also such mischief arose,
All who knew her soon found out that they,
If one day her friends, the next were thought foes,
So to her they nothing would say.

The chattering child a woman became,
Unloved by the gossips she knew;
She lived to be old, and was known by the name
Of gossiping, meddling Sue.




AIa balloon air balloon air balloon! was the cry,
And children were shouting and gazing up high.
I should like to go up in an air balloon,
Said Charley, and find out my way to the moon.

O would it not, mama, he excellent fun,
To come back and tell all I there had seen done ?
What odd looking people I fancy they are;
And Charley laughed heartily at the idea.

Indeed, I'm not joking, mama, though I know
It is a long distance yet people do go
A very long way in the ships on the sea,
So surely a way to the moon there must be.

A great many people much wiser than you,
Have vainly endeavoured your plan to pursue;
But have not been able to find out the track,
From one place to another exactly and back.

And if they ascend in the air very high,
They cannot remain long, or if so, would die.
It is not adapted for breathing, and we
Could no more live there, than we could in the sea.




YOUNG Harry one night was going up to bed.
But not to mama good-night had he said;
For he quite unruly had been all the day,
So thought he would try to get softly away.

The little boy scarcely had entered the room,
When he saw his mama, who said, I am come
In grief, my dear boy, to you, as you see,
For something is wrong when you come not to me.

With anxious concern all the day I have seen,
An ugly old man your companion has been;
He induced you to throw the stone over the wall,
He made you occasion your sister a fall.

An ugly old man been with me, dear mama ?
I have not had any one with me I'm sure.
Yes, yes, said mama, he with you has been-
I will tell you his name, it is old In-bred Sin.

O yes! dear mama, now I know what you mean,
I know that all day I quite naughty have been ;
But forgive me this once, and help me to pray,
That old In-bred Sin I may conquer each day.




Miss ELLEN one day had a special invite,
To meet a young party to tea;
And the thought of it yielded her so much delight,
That nothing else thought of could be.

She looked on her book, but while spelling a word,
My new dress, dear mama, shall I wear ?
And when she her mother's reproof had just heard,
Do you think Susan Clarke will be there ?

As thus her thoughts wander'd, mama said, I find
It is useless to teach you to-day;
The thought of the party engrosses your mind,
And drives all attention away.

You see now how worldly amusements bring sin,
And why so much caution is given
In the Bible, that we do not let earth win
Our thoughts and affections from heaven.

Earth's pleasures, my child, act a treacherous part
Unless we are careful indeed;
And hear above all, Give me thy heart,"
They may follow, but not take the lead.




THE children from school had arrived at home,
And a pic-nic party was made ;
The morning arrived, but array'd in gloom,
But the journey was not delayed.

Their route was directed to Hampton Court,
But before they arrived at Kew,
The pony began, and for his own sport,
Both rearing and prancing too.

The parents were frightened, the children screamed,
From the chaise the pony was taken;
From the hamper, which just quite in safety seemed,
Out tumbled the veal and the bacon.

Then bottles and tartlets came tumbling out,
And out tumbled bread and the cheese;
And the people around they raised a shout,
At disasters so sad as these.

Disappointed and vexed, they home returned,
Through a drenching shower of rain;
And they said such a lesson they had learned.
They should not want a pic-nic again.




ELIZA, said Emma, O do let me look
At, just for one minute, that duck of a book,
And O what a love of a work-box is that;
So down to examine them quickly she sat.

And what a sweet pin-case is this, I am sure
Such a dear little thing I have not seen before;
And this darling pattern for crochet, do let
Me copy it, Lizzy, it is such a pet.

I am really vexed and ashamed quite to hear
You talk so exceedingly foolish, my dear ;
It was only -this morning I heard you declare-
Your new parasol you on Sunday should wear.

Your great inattention has given me pain,
For I have reproved you again and again ;
Because little girls wrongly speak, whom you know
Is that any reason that you should do so ?

This habit I will try to conquer, mama,
Said Emma, such phrases ridiculous are,
And not that alone, but unlady-like too,
So therefore they must be offensive to you.




SOME little boys were in the garden at play,
But angry words they began soon to say.
John, put down that marble, that is very fine,
Indeed I will not play-that marble is mine.

To fighting almost their contention had grown,
So mama, much displeased, to the garden went
down ;
Said Albert, Mama, John is really a cheat,
He took up the marbles although he was beat.

No, I did not cheat, ma-it, Albert, was you,
For I won three marbles and you gave me two;
Said John, in a passion, I no more will play,
For he serves me the same almost every day.

I do not intend that you shall, said mama,
This quarrelling I have heard often before,
For from such beginnings you grumblers may grow,
And that is of vices most dreadful you know.

The loss or the gain of one marble you see
Has made you, though brothers, so much disagree;
So give me your marbles, 1 cannot again
Permit you tb play with what causes you pain.




DEAR mother, do not grieve and cry,
Said little Harry: I will try
My lessons very soon to learn,
Then go to work and money earn.

When papa said, Be a good boy,
I did not think so soon he'd die,
And that those words the last would be
That he would ever speak to me.

I never, never will forget
Them, dear mama, so do not fret;
He is in heaven and happy now,
And I will try to make you so.

The great and holy God, 'tis he
Who says, He will my Father be,
And every morn and every night
I pray that I may act quite right.

Now let me wipe your tears away,
Before I go again to play ;
There, go, my dear kind-feeling boy-
Your mother's hope, your mother'sjoy




MAMA, I fear you do not love
Me half so much as Mary;
You very seldom her reprove,
Punish, or call contrary.

Because she does not it require,
She does not act like you,
She does whatever I desire,
And without murmuring too.

It is to me a cause, of grief
I must so often scold,
And now it is a great relief
I can you thus enfold.

But do not think I can caress
A disobedient child,
Or think that God will ever bless
One by indulgence spoiled.

Now send away old jealousy,
And wipe your tears away;
One kiss, my child, then let me see
You run away and play.




A LARGE wax doll was given Ann
Upon her sixth birth-day,
With which her sister Georgianne
Requested she might play.

Though Ann was not a careless child,
She did not choose to let
Her doll be by her sister spoiled,
So she off with it set,

And in the bedroom-window seat
She placed it with great care,
Forgetting that the sun's noon-heat
Would fall upon it there.

So when she in the evening went
With doll again to play,
How great was her astonishment
To find it spoiled there lay.

Too late she wished she had not been
So selfish and unkind,
And every time her doll was seen,
Her fault was brought to mind.




JAMES BENNETT, mama, is but nine years old,
And he's going to Australia to dig for gold;
He will not stay in England, he says, to be poor,
For when gold there is gone, he can get some more.

So soon as I'm old enough I will go too,
Though I shall not like leaving dear papa and you;
I wish to be rich, and rich people, you know,
Can do as they please, and I want to do so.

But have you forgotten, dear Charles, that-you may,
As too many have done, soon die on the way ?
And fortune by no means is sure to attend;
You may win her, and find her a false, fickle friend.

As the gold is there placed, it cannot be wrong
To seek to obtain it; and those who are strong
In body, and mind, and in principle too,
May find it a blessing-but such there are few.

The Bible has told us there not many are
Who do for the soul's future happiness care
When gold is their object; which is on the whole
The best-to gain riches, or lose your own soul ?




SEIE little Nelly, how she sits
Beside the cottage door;
There happily she sings and knits,
Although she is so poor.

Within that little room you see
Her widowed mother lie,
And people say, they think that she
Will very shortly die.

But Nelly, when she went to school,
Industrious was and clever,
And when at home she on a stool
Would sit, but idle never.

Yet NeUy loved her sport and play,
As other children do,
But to spend all her time that way
Was very wrong she knew.

And now the people all around
With work to Nelly go;
For among children few are found
Who help their mother so.




IF you would see a naughty child,
Come, I will shew you one;
There, she is running, noisy, wild,
As though her work was done.

But you would be quite shocked to see,
Upon a tumbled bed,
Her mother lying helplessly,
Too ill to raise her head.

And there for many an hour she lies
In suffering alone ;
But for that child the most she sighs,
That child so naughty grown.

She has been taught to knit and sew,
But nothing will she do,
So she must to the workhouse go,
And her poor mother too.

The child that is so wicked now,
Through life the same may be
And then the Bible says, you know,
That Heaven she cannot see.




COME listen to a sailor's song,
It is not very short or long,
But if you listen I will tell
Something you will remember well.
When but a little lad like you,
Nothing I then attended to:
At school I only cared for play,
And very often staid away.
When I was sent to learn a trade,
I minded not a word they said,
And thought it very fine would be,
To run away and go to sea.
The rope's end soon made me repent,
Ever on board a ship I went.
There was a dreadful storm one night,
Which caused the oldest seamen fright;
I worked with others on the deck,
The ship became a sudden wreck,
And I was on the shore half dead,
Washed by the waves, the people said.
In an infirmary I lay,
In dreadful suffering every day.



And now my limbs, as you may see,
Are scarcely any use to me;
So now, my lads, your time employ,
Nor wish to be a sailor boy.

Two little lap-dogs together once grew,
And lived quite as happy as all lap-dogs do;
One thing they were taught, so soon as quite able,
Not to touch anything that was placed on the table;
Like good little children, there silent they sat,
Not asking for this thing, nor asking for that.
I think they did never a single spoon spoil,
Nor with greasy fingers the table-cloth soil.
It happened one night, when the servants all were
Assembled as usual for family prayer,
Chloe went prying and smelling about,
And some meat in the kitchen quickly found out.
She knew very well that to touch it was wrong,
But she looked, and she smelled, till temptation
grew strong :
At last on the dresser she jumped, and began
To sniff at the gravy and lick round the pan.
She ate one piece of meat, and was going to take
When the servant and Fido she saw at the door.



I do not like tell-tales, nor either do you;
But Fido turned tell-tale, for what did he do,
But go and tell Mary, who was kneeling down,
What Chloe was doing, by pulling her gown.
He pulled, and he looked, and again pulled so strong,
That Mary believed there must be something wrong ;
So she let him still pull her, and once at the door,
She soon saw what he had been pulling her for.
He look'd first at Chloe, and then in her face,
As if quite concerned for his sister's disgrace;
And then walked away, as if satisfied quite,
That what he had done was important and right.
Miss Chloe, had a beating and then slunk away,
And did not steal again for many a day.


SOME children one fine evening went
Into a boat to play,
And each one had his mind intent
On making boats of clay.

The sun had long been out of sight,
The tide had risen high,
When one of them perceiving night
Approach, began to cry.



In vain they tried to use their oars,
They had not strength or skill,
And farther, farther from the shore
The tide it bore them still.

Let us kneel down, said one, and pray,
For God can see us here :
And so they did, and then down lay,
As if they had no fear.

And God, who never shuts his ear
To any poor child's cry,
Thus still'd these children's natural fear,
And made them quiet lie.

The boat still drifting on the sea,
With no one it to guide,
A fisherman beheld, and he
Drew. it to his beside.

Preserved through danger, never they
Again through life forgot
The perils of that night and day,
And I hope you will not.

For you are on time's dangerous sea,
And in life's little boat-
If helm, oar, rudder you should be
Without, where would you float ?



The boat yourself, your parents are
Your compass, helm, and oar;
O may you mind their counsels here,
And reach the heavenly shore.


PooR, half-starved, brown Italian boy,
Why have you left the bright blue sky
Of lovely distant Italy-
A Lazzaroni say were ye ?

If so, ye yet were warm and dry,
Beneath your cloudless canopy,
But England's damp and chilly air
Is much too cold for you to bear.

In vain you turn that tinkling thing,
In vain yourself you try to sing,
Your speaking and imploring eye
May gain a mite from such as I.

But we have many English poor,
Roaming about from door to door;
Though sad their state, thine worse must be,
In sickness and in poverty.



0 surely I can never be
Thankful sufficiently to Thee,
0 God, who unto me hast given
Life in this land and hope of heaven.


PAPA, I into the meadow have been,
And can you imagine what there I have seen ?
A beautiful pony is frolicking there;
There look! you can see him beside the grey mare.

Papa only smilingly said, If to-day
Your studies are finished by one, then you may
Come down to the stable. James thanked his papa,
With a little suspicion of what it was for.

His thoughts, they did not, as I have known them do,
All gallop away-no, he kept them close to
His lessons, and they all correctly were done,
And from school he was home before it struck one.

Then down to the stable, and what was his joy,
When the pony new saddled at once caught his eye:
Papa! 0 dear papa can this be for me ?
And he jumped round the stable, no prince glad as be.



Yes, this is a birthday present, my boy,
Presented to you with very great joy;
And if you continue so good, you will see
As handsome a present each birthday from me.


JOHN and Harry went one day
Out of town a little way;
Pleased they were, you may be sure,
Never having been before.
All around the house were seen,
Meadows dressed in liveliest green,
Lilach, May, Laburnum too,
All in rich profusion grew ;
Then the fruit trees, they, you know,
Only could be looked at ; so
They were promised one more treat,
When the fruit was fit to eat.
As they ran and looked about,
They some ducks and geese found out,
And an ugly fowl they saw,
Such they had not seen before.
Now these silly little boys
Slashed their whips and made a noise;



Geese and turkeys in a crowd
Flapped their wings and gobbled loud.
This so frightened them, that they
Shouted, screamed, and ran away.
Alas alas sir, sad to tell,
They in the duck-pond headlong fell,
Frightened, wet, and dirty, they
Their fright forgot not many a day.


I AM sure I shall not ask Miss Long
To come to my party, would you ?
Though she seldom does anything wrong,
And is kind to me always, 'tis true.

But she dresses so meanly, I'm sure
If she came she would look quite a fright;
Hier parents must he very poor,
Or else do not do what is right.

To-day, when we came out of school,
I resolved she should not walk with me,
So I ran, though it was out of rule,
And pretended I did not her see,


I'm ashamed of you Fanny, and grieve
Such conduct in you should be seen ;
I think that Miss Long must perceive
Your conduct disgracefully mean.

A mean little mind you must have,
To treat a good child with such scorn;
You but in that way could behave
To the wickedest child that is born.

For poverty is not a sin,
Although it misfortune may be ;
Be ashamed of yourself, and begin
To conquer your own vanity.


YOUNG Mary was a meddling child,
.Nor minded what was said;
Reproof, in accents stern or mild,
No alteration made.

With lucifers she loved to play,
And punished oft had been,
But doing it again one day
Produced a dreadful scene.



The box-lid fitted very tight,
And with a jerk off came;
The lucifers at once took light,
And she was in a flame.

Her screams assistance quickly brought,
And John the scene first saw;
He wrapped around the child his coat,
And rolled her on the floor.

Her hands and face were sadly burnt,
And scorched her neck and face,
And she in bed by suffering learnt
Her sin and her disgrace.


THERE was a little girl, who had
A habit that was very bad:
Of screaming if a little fly
Or any little thing came nigh.
If any one but touched her too,
She in an instant angry grew ;
Did any one but touch her book,
Or only in her work-box look,
Then she would cry and make a noise;
And as to any dolls or toys,



If to look at them any dare-
O, Miss don't touch them, Miss take care,
Miss I don't like it-there Miss, see:
These play-things all were given me,
And I shall put them all away
Rather than you shall with them play.
Thus selfish, petulant, and weak,
Soon no one wished with her to speak ;
And when her screaming fits begun,
None thought it worth their while to run,
Because they knew that such a trifle
Could her of peace and temper rifle.


PooR little Jane was very dull;
She could not learn to spell
Quickly as other children do,
And yet she tried as well.

She went to school in dread and grief;
'Twas piteous to see
Her fingers tremble on the leaf,
Lest she reproved should be.



Some children called her stupid dunce,
And some would whispering tell
The unremembered letter, when
It was her turn to spell.

The teacher saw these acts, and said,
Come here, my little Jane;
So quick as these you cannot learn
To spell, I see, quite plain.

But you can work and write, you know,
Better, perhaps, than they ;
And I am sure that you will spell
So well as them some day.


AGAINv the Sabbath chimes I hear
Proclaim the sacred day :
Their sweetly solemn tones appear
To call from earth away.

God knew the suffering, toil, and grief
That man would have through sin;
He knew how sweet would be relief
To those who heaven would win.


But not alone a day of rest-
A day of worship too;
A day on which should be expressed
In public what is due.

From to man God, and what to man
Has been the promise given-
They who on earth his courts have trod
Shall earth exchange for heaven.

But not by those who have alone
From custom knelt to pray;
No, God in his most solemn tone
Says, With thine heart obey.


MAMA, you never take us out
As other people do,
Said Julia, almost with a pout,
On Sunday-why don't you ?

Where do you wish to go, my dear ?
Her mother, answering, said;
O on the steam-boats, anywhere,
Like cousins Ann and Fred.




I don't like always going to church,
Or sitting still at home,
Having for hymns or texts to search,
And often learning some.

And have you then, my child, forgot,
That you may die this night-
A:nd what will be the dreadful lot
Of those who do not right ?

If now you find the sabbath day
A weariness, depend
IPt heaven you would not like to stay,
Where sabbaths never end.


I KNEW a little girl who did
A very naughty trick-
She ate so many pies and tarts,
She made herself quite sick.

She did not very often have
Money to spend at will,
And so she thought that just for noce
She would have quite her fill.


And so she went beneath a tree,
And ate them one by one;
So greatly she enjoyed the feast,
She grieved when it was done.

But soon she sick and dizzy grew,
At last quite ill became;
It was not long before she knew,
She had herself to blame.

And she did blame herself indeed,
For acting such a part.
She never did the like again,
But shared each bun or tart.


WITH cheerful toil the little Ant
Begins the dawning day,
And not alone for present want;
The future store he'll lay.

Whether on England's fruitful soil,
Or Afric's sunny land,
They labour with incessant toil,
For the whole social band.


Within the hillock they unite
Their labour and their skill,
While others tug with all their might
Provision to the hill.

Go to the Ant, the Bible says,
Thou slow and slothful child,
See how it needs in winter days
The store for which it toiled.

In childhood must the seed be sown
Of needful right pursuits,
And then there will in age be known,
Its blessing and its fruits.


low troublesome the beggars are!
Do you not think so, dear mamma ?
Yes, dear, we often think them so;
But theirs is the worst case, you know;
And yet I really glad should be,
If I could you a beggar see.
Me me a beggar ma, you jest ;



What, dirty, ragged and distressed ?
No, not exactly that, my dear;
But such as the first beggars were-
For they were holy men who met
First with this scornful epithet.
Yes, they were holy men of prayer,
Who in the face of death would dare
To worship God as he had taught,
And not as Men the best way thought ;
For this they were obliged to roam
Long without any settled home.
And when they met for praise and prayer,
So strong their supplications were,
That God would give them strength that they,
In spite of suffering, might obey,
That Beghards they were called by those
Who thought it right to be their foes ;
Thus Beghards, Lollards, Wicklifite,
Are names of which an angel might
Be proud, if one should come to earth,
And wish to seem of mortal birth.
Thus then, my child, can I for you
Wish better than that you should too
A beghard or a beggar be,
Like they were to the Deity.
From importuning beggars, you
Something may learn of import too.



Do you with such imploring eye,
Do you with such an earnest cry,
Pardon of God for sin implore,
And grace for strength to sin no more ?
I fear you have not : that you may
Be such a beggar, Charles, I pray.

A PARTY of lads went fishing one day,
But the ground was so wet, they long could not stay.
Stay, boys, if you like, I don't care a pin,
Said one, little Ben, I am wet to the skin.
But, casting his eyes for a dry spot around,
Beheld at a distance some stones on the ground.
Look, boys, he exclaimed, of those stones let us make
A wharf for our fishing, it will not long take.
Among all the boys there only was one
Replied-No, we must not, they are not our own.
What nonsense said Ben, there is no harm I'm sure,
We want them, you know, and they can get more.
The boys all assented, to work they all went,
The wharf was erected, and they were content,
And, highly self satisfied, Ben returned home,
Because he the obstacle had overcome.
Next morning the men made a terrible rbut,
Who had taken the stones resolved to find out.



Among the suspected ones was little Ben:
To the shop of his father soon came in the men.
What is this, sir, I hear of you ? thieving indeed !
In stealing the stones you have taken the lead.
No, father, not stealing, we wanted them, so
We took them; they were not much value you know.
You wanted them, sir! and so that is a cause
You think quite sufficient for breaking the laws.
I must teach you to know, then, 'tis sinfully wrong
To take even a stone that does not belong
To you, though you want it; you either must buy,
Or obtain permission to take it, but I
Will give you a thrashing, I then have no doubt,
What you want you'll get rightly, or else go without.


SoM1E children had been a long journey one day,
And began to think home was a very long way :
Their papa, perceiving to lag they begun,
Thought of something that very soon made them
all run :
He went a few paces, and then, turning round,
Said, what do you think, my dears, I have found ?
A Bellis pere-who wishes to see
A Bellis perennis must hasten to me.



Away they all ran, forgot they were tired;
To see what papa had was all they desired.
0 do let me look at it do let me see !
O what is it like, papa, what can it be ?
Papa, as he held the handkerchief tied
High over his head, only smiling, replied,
There are those, my dear children, delighted would be,
To give hundreds, or thousands, if they could it see,
And if in the world there one could be found
To make one quite like it, he then would be crowned.
The children thus puzzled, again and again
Asked permission to see it, but all was in vain.
Papa answered gaily-No, children, no, no,
At home my Bellis.Perennis will show.
At home once arrived they were clamorous quite,
To have of this wonderful creature a sight,
For a creature alive they thought it must be.
So when papa said, Now, children, now see !
And took from the table his handkerchief, lo,
What can you imagine the wonderful show
A little white daisy half withered there lay
O papa, O papa! do shew it us, pray.
There it is, said papa. 0, not that thing, we
The Bellis Perennis are waiting to see.
That it is, said papa, more gravely again :
Not a man in the world, nor a million of men,
Could make it alive, as now you it se ;
And I'm sure a blind man delighted would be,



To give thousands on thousands if he could, like you,
Of this beautiful daisy have a clear view.
O how disappointed -we all of us are,
You called it a Bellis Perennis, papa.
Yes, that is its Latin name, as you should known,
You have been to an horticultural show;
And now, as you know it, you will not, I'm sure,
Forget its appearance or name any more.
O that we shall not, said the children, nor yet,
How that we were tired you made us forget;
We thank you, papa, for the day's great delight.
And with many a kiss they bade good night.


IT is a very sad affair,
When children disobedient are,
And think in little things they may,
At least for once, have their own way.
Emma was such a little child,
As many are; self-willed and wild;
She did not like to hear expressed-
You must do so, mamma knows best.
One summer evening as she sate
At crochet, at the garden gate,



Mamma said, Emma, you must go
And take this note to your aunt Lowe;
Mind you do not go down the lane,
Because there has been so much rain;
But go along the road, and then
In half an hour be back again.
I-low tiresome, said Emma, I
May not go down the lane, 'tis dry,
I do so want to have a look
At Susan Hudson's pattern book.
'Twill be too dark when I return,
For anything to see or learn.
So down she went, Miss Hudson saw,
Looked at the book, but chatted more.
At length the parlour clock struck eight--
O dear she said, how very late !
Away she ran, and left the note.
Of course she reached her aunt without.
0, how is this ? what brought you here
So late this evening, my dear ?
But Emma was ashamed to say
She had been staying by the way.
Well, said her aunt, then take this bun,
And home again directly run.
She soon began to feel some dread,
But when mamma she found in bed,
Extremely ill, 0 then she grew
Much frightened, but what could she do ?


The note had asked her aunt to come,
Because papa was not at home;
And she was ill, and what was worse,
She had not in the house a nurse.
When Emma heard her mother cry,
And thought she perhaps through her would die,
She sobbing told the tale to Ruth,
Who having heard the dreadful truth,
Bade her the nearest neighbour call,
Although in bed they perhaps were all.
Emma was not allowed to see
Her mamma, so sat miserably
For many hours quite alone,
Nor heard a sound but mamma's groan :
She felt and said, Though vile am I,
Pray God, don't let my mamma die '


I WILL tell you a tale, Charles, indeed it is true,
Of a little boy who was not older than you;
His father had planted a tree with great care,
And it just had produced one exquisite pear
One night he went up to his bed very soon,
And stood at his window admiring the moon.



His eyes on the garden soon rested just where
Stood the little delicious, half-hidden pear.
He looked, and he longed, and he looked once again,
Till he found that his looking and longings were
vain ;
And then he began to think none would know
If he went in the garden upon his tip-toe.
So he went, and his hand was placed on the pear,
And his eyes were cast upward, but what saw he
there ?
He saw what he thought was God's eye from afar,
Looking down upon him from a beautiful star;
And oh it so frightened him, in doors he ran,
Got into his bed, and his conscience began
To tell him, that though he had not seen God's eye,
Yet God had seen his; oh how he did cry,
To think what a very bad boy he had been,
For the sake of one pear, to think of such sin.
A thief, a deceiver, he then there would lie,
If he had not believed it was really God's eye.
But so conscientious and pious he grew,
That he was respected by all who him knew;
There never, he said, was an hour, but he
Remembered those words, Thou, God, see'st me.




M'Iss JULIA went once to the house of her friend
Miss Conway, the Christmas vacation to spend.
The girls they were both just twelve years of age,
Had the same teacher and read the same page ;
But you could not believe such a statement was true,
If their conduct you watched for an hour or two.
Miss Conway she spoke with peculiar grace,
Her emphasis, accent, and tone had right place ;
Her teachers were pleased that among those they
There was one who knew how to speak as she ought.
But one thing must of her in justice be stated,
All low vulgar idioms she heartily hated;
Not only because they unfeminine were,
Because they offensively fell on her ear.
She therefore took notice of each word and tone,
She fancied was better or worse than her own;
And then in behaviour you well may conclude
She would not be guilty of anything rude.
Miss Julia, however, was quite the reverse-
I could not her vulgar wrong actions rehearse :
I will tell you a few of them, that you may know
Whether your conduct is like it or no.


Her voice it was loud, and her manner was rough,
And although her lessons were learnt well enough,
Th ere was no attention to stops or to tone-
It sometimes appeared one monotonous groan.
If she wanted a thing-Mrs. Benson, I say
Just walk that book here, or I'll shew you the way.
0 wouldn't you like it, I wish you may get it,
Were sentences heard from her every minute,
O, lork a mercy, miss or, Well I never !
Didn't you think it, ah, ah, mighty clever?
These were some of her phrases, others more low,
But none were becoming a lady, you know.
And then as to syntax, oh! if you had heard
How misplaced or ill-chosen was every word,
You would say she surely could not have been taught
To express her meaning at all as she ought.
The truth is, she had not a delicate mind,
And therefore her language would not be refined
Beyond common decency, nor always that,
When she was enjoying what she called free chat.
Her stay with Miss Conway, though, did her some
She heard not a word unbecoming or rude,
And pains being taken with her every day,
She improved a little, I am happy to say.




SMY children, you all very indolent look-
How is it you sit without even a book ?
O mamma! we have only the Bible, said Janc,
That I've read over and over again.

I'm grieved that my children so little should prize
The Bible-this really is very unwise;
But none prize it rightly, but those whom 'tis given
To be quite in earnest about going to heaven.

The kings of the earth, even Britain's great king,
When dignity, riches, and earth's joys take wing,
Have searched in its pages with deep solemn care,
For fear they should not in its promises share.

The wise and the learned have found in its page
A solace when science no more could engage ;
The soul's increased powers they there learned, would
More in one hour than their life could show.

And then to the poor self-condemned sinner, who
Knows heaven he deserves not, yet hopes for it too
How precious the promises, how mean appear
All else the world offers, if death is seen near.



Commit, my dear children, to memory its page,
Let it be your companion in youth and in age ;
You will find it in trouble, temptation, and pain,
A balm when from all else you turn with disdain.


ANNNA and Mary sisters were,
Who had been trained with equal care,
By parents who but wished to see
Them walk in paths of piety.
When old enough, they went to learn
A business, so that they might earn
Money, and have their wants supplied,
Whenever their good parents died.
It still remained good Anna's rule,
To go to her loved Sunday school;
It was her duty too, she thought,
Others to teach, as she was taught
But not so, Mary, she who knew
So well her duty, careless grew;
And but with the profane and gay,
She loved to pass the Sabbath day.
In vain she heard her parents chide,
In vain its power Conscience tried,



In dress she like a peacock shone,
Of dress it was she thought alone;
At length, on one fine Sabbath day,
She with a party, young and gay,
Went in a steam boat up the river,
More volatile and gay than ever;
The day had passed, and night once more
O'ertook them, ere they reached the shore;
By some mischance, I know not how,
A splash was heard, a shriek, and lo!
Mary had fallen into the river,
Earth's joys had closed on her for ever.
Oh! whither had her spirit flown,
TiTat spirit which had ever shown
Aversion to those sacred things,
Prom which alone true pleasure springs ?
Can heaven be a welcome state
To those who its employment hate ?
0; no, then but one more remains,
A state of never-ending pains.

To JANe. and Louisa a present was made,
A doll in the first style of fashion arrayed,
A beautiful house, with sofas and chairs,
A bed room well furnished, and carpeted stairs.



O, who can describe the delight of the girls ?
One admired its dress, the other its curls;
And then in the house all things were so neat,
Not one thing was wanting, to make it complete.
Thus happily passed the children each day,
An hour or two, after lessons at play;
But 0, how self-will and ill-temper -will throw
A gloom over every bliss we can know.
Louisa, she would very often declare,
She must change the style of doll's dress, or her hair;
While Julia opposed her, but still she would wish
To change in the house a carpet or dish.
These differing desires at length grew so strong,
That their quarrels became both lasting and long,
And one day so high their passion arose,
That it ended in something worse even than blows.
Louisa gave Julia a blow and a push;
She fell on the fender, and then came a gush
Of blood from her forehead, and spread on the floor;
Louisa beheld it, and rushed to the door,
0 come to my sister, poor Julia is dead,
0 come to my sister, she franticly said;
And hastily running, all down stairs she fell,
If dead or alive, none for some time could tell.
In sorrow and suffering, these little girls lay,
In bed, in great danger, for many a day;
But when they first met, it was pleasing to see,
How each strove the fondest and humblest to be;



Though each had their temper, they proved on the
They had learned how to practise in youth self-

W rITHI a cot, around which grew
Flowers of every scent and hue,
Lived little rosy Alice Green,
A better child was never seen;
And in that cottage lived a dame,
Her grand-mamma, both old and lame.
Though not the poorest of the poor,
The dame had but a scanty store,
Yet in that cot they all possessed,
Which can make life desired or blest,
For love was there, love warm and true,
Love ever welcome, ever new;
And Kindness, sister too of love,
Dwelt there just like a nestling dove;
Ah, and sweet Piety was there,
Raising her voice in praise and prayer.
Miss Industry would with them sit,
And help to sew, crochet or knit;
Miss Order too was always there,



To rightly place each plate or chair:
Miss Cheerfulness, with placid smile,
Would come and sit with them awhile;
Then came Miss Frugal, to dispense
Something to Miss Benevolence;
And so they dull could never be,
In such delightful company.
A lot more blessed than of a queen
Was that of little Alice Green;
O could I choose a lot for thee,
My child, like her, that lot should be.


THERE, in a cot by yonder hill,
There lives a child named Lucy Hill;
And if you a bad child would know,
You need not any farther go.
There, with her mother, you may see
The seat of all life's misery;
Though only two are in the cot,
You might suppose that on that spot
Demons had come, and with them brought
All evils that can enter thought.
Passion and rage both raised their voice,
In language but of Satan's choice;
F 2



There Malice sat a constant guest,
Hatred with poignard at her breast;
Impiety there held her sway,
Taking the lead by night and day;
There Idleness her home would make,
But not a broom or stitch would take;
Disorder put all to the rout,
Turned over this and that turned out;
Uncleanliness most quiet sat,
Now perched on this and then on that ;
Thus all the vagrant train of ill
Lived in the cot of Lucy Hill.
Oft Want, with her imploring eye,
Would sit till Prodigality
Entered and brought the horrid cup
Mother and daughter both drunk up;
Then all the host I named before,
Are seen upon the cottage floor;
And there they will remain, 'tis said,
Till horrid Murder shews her head.
My child, my child, if thou should'st be
E'er in familiarity
With scenes like these, (and 0, you may,
For such are acted every day),
Thy lot a dreadful one will be,
For time and for eternity;
But this can never be your fate,
If discord, passion, vice, you hate,

Remember, passion and self-will
Brought infamy on Lucy Hill.


A POOR Ox one day had a cannon to draw,
In India, where once raged a terrible war;
But the wheels of the cannon went into a slough,
And to get it all right the Ox knew not how.
He tugg'd and he tugg'd with the whole of his
So long, that his strength at last failed him quite;
And how long he staid there I cannot now say,
But an Elephant came the very same way.
With his wonderful trunk he lifted the gun
Quite out of the slough, and when that was done,
Why then he looked at him as if he would say,
I have helped you, and now go on your own way.
The Ox tried to do so again and again,
But his strength was exhausted, so trying was vain
The Elephant came to the poor Ox once more,
And helped him a little the cannon to draw,
Then said-Sir, so well as he could, now go on,
If you do not, 'tis certain the fault is your own.
The Ox he looked at him as if he would say,
If I had your strength, I would go on my way,


But moved not, and that vexed the Elephant so,
That he gave the poor Ox with his trunk such a blow,
As made him fall dead without struggle or groan,
And the Elephant went unconcernedly on.
This story, my children, indeed, is quite true,
And from it this caution I offer to you :
If, like the Elephant, strength you possess,
Mind how you behave to those who have less,
Or talents or riches 'tis even the same,
Beware how on others you cast any blame,
If ever you help them, if they cannot do
All that with ease is accomplished by you.
Strength of mind or of body are God's gifts, to be
Used by their possessors with humility.


WHILE walking on the castle's height,
Once in the far-famed Isle of Wight,
Young Henry heard his mother tell
A story he remembered well.
Above a thousand years ago,
She said, the Danes first came, you know,
Infesting so the country round,
That peace nor safety could be found.



Soon to this lovely place they came;
The Saxons, frightened at their name,
Within this castle tried to save
Their lives, or die among the brave.
They long had been in this sad plight,
When a poor soldier dreamt one night
He shot the Danish captain: he
Dreamt this three times successively.
The governor soon heard the tale-
You may believe he did not fail
To call the soldier, hear him say
How he could drive the Danes away.
Give me, he said, a silver coin,
And in this arrow here of mine
I'll make a place that it shall fit;
Aim well, and with it I will hit
The Danish Captain, as he there
Sits proudly. O how they will stare
To see their leader fall; quick now,
As there he sits, I'll make the blow.
The bow-string twangs, he falls, 'tis done-
The Danes they in confusion run
From place to place, to know if true
The tale, and what they each must do.
Forth came the Saxons, sword in hand,
Aud so pursued the Danish band,
That hundreds very soon were slain,
There in that place called Dead Man's Lane;



And after they had fighting done,
They cut the heads off every one,
And then of laughter took their fill,
To see them roll down Noddy Hill.*
Thus were the people rescued by
A poor man's dream and bravery,
And for many a year his praise was sung
In castle and cot, by the old and young.


JAMES BOND he loved to 'box and fight,
Engaged in this was his delight,
And all the village boys agreed
He in such sports should take the lead;
And though he was a Merchant's son,
He still these games would carry on,
And the low name of Boxing Jem
By every one was given him.
But he of this was only proud,
And cared not that the boys aloud
All shouted-Here comes Boxing Jem !
Who is it going to fight with him ?
One day his father on the road,
Observing an unusual crowd,
Node Hill.



Said-What's the matter, lads ? what, fight !
Why, don't you know it is not right ?
'Tis only Boxing Jem, they said,
Having a fight with Ragged Ned;
See how he knocks the fellow down-
He'll give him by and by a crown.
With grief and anger he beheld
His son crowned victor of the field,
And with what pride he walked among
That ragged, noisy, low-bred throng.
His father to the parlour went,
And for his fighting son he sent;
I was not, Sir, prepared to find
I had a son of martial mind.
O yes, papa, I box or fight
With any one, if wrong or right
It is such fun, by spring or pitch,
To see them flounder in a ditch.
You think so ? yes, and something more
I think you like-by several score
Of blackguards to be hailed the chief.
Why, Sir, you'll next be hailed a thief!
When boys like you of vice are proud,
'Twere better they were in their shroud.
You rather let your base, low pride
Be by a rabble gratified,
Than have the praise for- merit due
Bestowed by the right-minded few.


Now, Sir, you leave this place and home,
Nor is it likely you will come
Again to it for many a year,
Unless you are ashamed to hear,
Be seen, or known, by any one
With whom you've had your so-called fun.
Reproved in time, young James became
The subject of far different fame;
Nor did he hear without a pain,
The shouting of the rabble train.
Ah he would say, I should be there,
Had I not had a father's care;
But, thanks to him, I now can say
With hate from such I turn away.


Two little girls went out one day
To walk upon the beach,
But not to go a certain way,
Was the command to each.

The sun poured down his glowing beams,
So not fatigued, but hot,
Discussing certain school-room themes,
Reached the forbidden spot.


I wonder what there here can be,
That we may not proceed ?
Exclaimed the eldest, Emily;
I'm really vexed indeed.

I quite resolved to yonder cliff
I would my ramble stretch,
Because I want of that nice skiff
To make a little sketch.

Have you forgotten, Milly dear,
We promised not to go
Beyond this little turning here ?
I really can't do so.

You're always disagreeable,
Miss Jane, at least to me;
Mamma can't know, unless you tell-
She is not here to see.

Mamma forbade us, Jany said,
Because there's danger near;
So do not be by self-will led,
But keep your conscience clear.

For I should like to go with you
To yonder jutting cliff,
For there would be a pretty view
Both of the pier and skiff.



Then keep your conscience, Milly said,
For I can go alone;
But many steps she did not tread,
Beore she changed her tone.

The yielding sand received her feet,
And held them there so tight,
That back nor forward could she get,
So screamed with grief and fright.

Then Jane she ran and shrieked for aid,
But none there was would dare
Upon a spot so treacherous tread,
And thus the danger share.

At last a man a thick rope brought,
One end to her he threw,
Which with both hands she having caught,
He her in safety drew.

At home in safety and in bed,
Jane sitting by her side,
She laid her little aching head
Upon her neck, and cried-

How very wicked I have been-
Conscience I would not hear ;
And I was vexed you would not, Jane,
My disobedience share.



This want of conscientiousness,
My child, replied mamma,
Has caused me very great distress,
And also your papa.

The child that doth not conscience' voice
Strictly in youth attend,
Will never make the heart rejoice,
Of parent or of friend.


IN the famed city Moscow a poor little lad
Sold rolls in the street, for no parents he had;
Good-tempered, obliging, and honest was he,
As all little lads, rich or poor, ought to be.
One day to a gentleman's kitchen he went,
Where the servants on cooking were mostly intent,
And the master came down, as if he would look
That something was rightly performed by the cook
For Peter the Great, who esteemed it a treat,
And of it alone was intended to eat.
The boy from his hiding-place saw the great man
Put a little white powder into the pan,



And shrewdly suspecting that something was wrong,
Soon left his retreat and began his old song-
Who will buy my hot rolls ? who will buy, who
will buy?
And, made such a noise, that the Czar coming by,
Attracted and pleased with the industrious boy,
Said, He shall not sell rolls-I will him employ.
A tumult of thoughts arose in the mind
Of the boy, who followed the Czar close behind;
His great importunity made the Czar stare,
To be then permitted to wait at his chair.
The guests had partaken of baked, boiled, and roast,
Of puddings and tartlets there came in a host,
Among them the dish which the boy had mark'd well,
The sight of which made his heart tremble and swell,
As the nobleman said, This, sire, is for you
Alone, for your favourite it is, I knew.
Then under the table the boy on the ground,
Appeared as if something he sought or had found ;
And then he, by gestures and signs at the feet
Of the king, made him know that he must not it eat.
So the king to the nobleman said, I to-day
Have eaten sufficiently, therefore I pray
You will eat it yourself; but turning quite pale,
He politely declined, saying, Sire I should fail
In proper respect, if it I were to eat,
Then your dog, said the Czar, shall have it for a



The poor little animal ate it, but he
Died in an hour, in extreme agony.
The guilt of the nobleman proved having been,
And the boy having told too all he had seen,
The one met that death which was justly his due,
The other to favour and dignity grew.
Of one his posterity shared in his shame,
The other's descendants are now men of fame,
And one of them now is a prince of renown,
Whose wisdom and wealth place him near to the
Again we perceive what industry may do
For those who pursue it; among such are you ?


THERE are among men many heroes, whose fame
The pen and the pencil to ages proclaim.
Philanthropists too, good people, who show
By actions their wish to relieve human woe.
But kindness and bravery are not alone,
By mankind, to the suffering and needy made known.
Good Berry, the dog of the mountains and cave,
Spent his life in endeavouring mortals to save,



Who by cold overcome, or lost in the snow,
By torrent, or ravine could no farther go.
But we must remember the good priests had taught
Him on these occasions to act as he ought.
Some garments were placed round his body beside,
Round his neck a small bottle of cordial was tied.
So when a poor perishing traveller he found,
Benumbed or exhausted, quite ill on the ground,
He strove to defer the cold hand of death,
By the warmth of his body, his tongue, or his breath ;
And when animation was somewhat restored,
He shewed them the bottle, and when they had
Its contents in their stomach, the blood then began
To flow, and thus rescued from death was the man ;
But if all his efforts had failed, then he knew
To go to the convent was all he could do,
And the good priests exerted themselves, it is said,
That they often recovered the seemingly dead.
More than forty good Berry had saved in this way,
But at last he began to feel life's decay,
And when in past scenes he no more could engage,
He was nursed in the convent, and died of old age.
When dead he was stuffed, and you might him
Like life standing in the Museum of Berne,
And saying to all who behold him, you see
What good may be done by a creature like me,



When rightly directed by superior mind,
Go thou and do likewise, for room you will find,
With will to be guided, and will to do good,
You will have the praise that you've done what you

COME, children, listen unto me,
While I a tale recite
Of ancient Danish cruelty,
That will astound you quite.

Who is there has not heard or read
Of wicked Danish kings ?
And of the chiefs and men they led
To do such wicked things?

Oft their amusements cruel were;
One was, what you shall hear,
To toss young infants in the air,
And catch them on a spear.

They cared not for the shrieks and tears
Of the poor mothers-no,
Their hearts unfeeling as their spears,
Pity refused to show.



As they were thus engaged one day,
Their shouts of savage glee
Surprised a Chief who came that way;
A human heart had he.

He sternly bade them cease such sport,
Nor dare perform again,
Actions which his own feelings taught,
Must cause such madd'ning pain.

But though they dared not disobey,
They called him Barnabul,
Or child preserver, many a day,
In rage or ridicule.

How glad my children ought to be,
Such different scenes they view;
Remember, Christianity
Has brought this change for you.


ONE day, as Miss Clara strolled down the green lane,
There suddenly came on a shower of rain,
And, finding her slippers began to be wet,
Stepped up to a cottage almost in a pet,



For she discontented had been all the day ;
She wanted new dresses, but mamma said, nay.
Her trinkets she fancied were common and old,
So she had in her mind done nothing but scold.
She noiselessly stood at the half open door,
Whose inmate she knew was the poorest of poor,
And she mentally said, O dear what a hole!
But then it is good enough for old Dame Cole.
But shortly she heard the old woman say
Some words which inclined her attention to pay.
I have all this and Christ, she uttered with joy.
I have all this and Christ, O how happy am I !
What can she have there to be happy about ?
I wonder, said Clara, almost with a pout,
And as she endeavoured to slyly peep in,
Her dress by the old woman quickly was seen.
She gladly accepted an old wooden chair,
But gazed on the table, and what saw she there ?
What only an onion, some salt and some bread,
Could this be the all which to thankfulness led ?
O dear, what a pity you're caught in the rain !
Said the dame, as she sat down to supper again.
And la I'se afeard you this onion will smell,
And that is unpleasant, I know very well.
I thank you, said Clara, but there, as I stood,
I thought you for supper had something quite good,
Because you so happy and thankful appeared.
So I have, said the dame, my spirits are cheered



With the goodness of God to a poor thing like me.
La! Miss, I am happy as happy can be.
For seventy years I have had home and food,
And clothing, and all things my God hath seen good;
And then this companion, my Bible, it tells
Of such future blessings, that my poor heart swells
With such sweet emotions, I sing and I cry,
And I think there is no one more happy than I.
Miss Clara, she heard with astonishment great,
The old woman thus her enjoyments relate;
She thought of her conduct and pinings all day,
But now discontent had all vanished away.
A change in her conduct this incident wrought,
Of the poor old dame's words she frequently thought.
I only can wish, my dear children, that you
Who read this, like Clara, may find its use too.


Trr-RE was once two brothers alike in their face,
In conduct though different quite ;
The eldest was every day in disgrace,
For he would not do what was right.



Do have but one game with me, Tom, he would say
When at school,-tit tat to, come, you might;
I cannot you know, Ned, I cannot now play.
For why ?-Why, because 'tis not right.

Out of school he was mostly at some mischief found,
Throwing stones, or attempting to fight ;
Here, Tom, come and help me, would often resound.
No, Ned, for you have not done right.

When old enough, both to an office were sent,
And had only to reckon and write ;
His thoughts on his business Ned seldom bent,
And so his accounts were not right.

Besides this, he wanted much money to spend,
For amusements were all his delight:
And then tease his brother more money to lend,
But laugh at his maxim, Not right.

Misconduct will certainly punishment bring,
So certain as day succeeds night,
And vainly Ned fretted and groaned at its sting,
And wished he had only done right.

He soon from his parents was sent far away,
And lived many years a sad sight,
But, while at hard labour, would frequently say,
How I wish I, like Tom, had done right!



My boys, it will cost you much trouble, no doubt,
To act up to principle tight;
But try, persevere, and if sometimes thrown out,
Let your rule be, to do what is right.


TiHERE were two little girls went every day
To a school in a village from home far away,
And so for their dinner they took something nice-
Besides meat, they had pudding, apples or rice.
As they went there and back they passed by a gate,
Where, whatever the weather, an old woman sate
She begged not, but still it was easy to see,
She was not only ill, but poor as could be.
Now Ann made a rule, of whatever she had
To save, for this woman so lonely and sad,
A part of her dinner, for oft she would say,
How bad it must be to sit there all the day.
And sometimes Miss Ellen a little would spare,
But it was not because she felt any care,
But she could not eat it, and so she would say,
If I give it not her, I shall throw it away.
But Anna had read oft in God's holy word,
He that gives to the poor he lends to the Lord;



She acted from principle, steady and pure,
And so her good conduct through life would endure.
The children left school, and time passed away,
For more than two years, when a letter, one day,
Address'd to Miss Anna, informed her, that due
To her was one hundred pounds, fancy from who ?
From whom ? from the woman who sat at the gate.
The money had come for her use now too late,
A distant relation had left it, she said,
Of others she knew not, but thought they were dead.
And, as she -was dying, if Anna would come,
And bid her farewell, there was for her that sum.
I never knew kindness, indeed it is true,
I never knew kindness, till shewn it by you ;
It was not, Miss Anna, your dinner alone
That gladdened my bosom, your manner and tone.
I sometimes have fancied God sent you to show,
What happiness some of his creatures must know,
Who live with the lively, the loving and kind,
And though upon earth such I could not find,
I have ventured to hope, through the Saviour in
That happiness even to me will be given.
I give you the money because, I am sure,
You will always be gentle and kind to the poor.
You cannot imagine young Anna's surprise;
She said, while the tears trickled fast from her eyes,



I did but my duty, mamma, I am sure;
God bids us at all times do good to the poor;
For he maketh rich, or he taketh away,
And those who are rich may be poor, perhaps, some
But as God this money has given to me,
I'll more than ever compassionate be.

WHiEN kings wanted playthings, and made them
of men,
King Frederick of Prussia had sport
With a Jester, a dwarf, again and again,
Who amused him and all the court.

But one day he ventured to do a wrong thing,
Full of nonsense and folly and fun ;
He into a puddle just pushed the great king,
And laughed at it when he had done.

The king was offended, as well he might be,
And the Jester with fear met his eye,
As he said, Sir, you dared take this freedom with
And for it you instantly die.



In vain for forgiveness the poor Jester sought,
His mind sank in grief and in dread,
As the axe- and the block together were brought,
And they made him lay down his poor head.

But only for punishment this had been done,
The king did not mean he should die,
And to see the effect of what he meant fun,
Himself and his courtiers stood by.

With a large German sausage they gave him a blow
As he on the block lay his head,
The king and his courtiers laughed loudly, but lo !
The poor little Jester was dead.

His mind like his body was little and weak,
And could not such pressure sustain,
Or it might be, that fear caused a vessel to break
On either the heart or the brain.

The king was astonished, and very much grieved,
His attendants were also the same,
And though in his business his mind was relieved,
He passed on his conduct great blame.

Whatever our station, 'tis needful that we
Be very particular, when
Superiors happen with us to make free,
That we make not freedom again.



Remember, my children, in youth and in age,
This maxim, it is-know your place,
And then throughout life, in whatever you engage,
Will save you much mental disgrace.

Remember your place and your duty, and then
Respect you are sure to obtain,
For indeed, you will find very few among men,
Who love not supremely to reign.


YOUNG Genius to Talent, his brother, once said,
I cannot imagine how you, brother Ned,
Can think and arrange, can do and undo.
Ah, said Talent, I am not a genius like you.
I know you are not, replied Genius, for I,
Seem to have my ideas from somewhere on high;
Of the project or structure the outline I draw,
And astonish the world who such things never saw.
But I have no trouble, thoughts enter my brain,
I have only the trouble those thoughts to explain;
Like an Eagle I dart up and down, and my eye
Either fixes on matter, or pierces the sky,
And while I so high above others can roam,
Do you think upon earth I can make a long home ?



Yes, what you have said, replied Talent, is true
I must work your designs, or your project pursue;
Indeed, all your schemes like a bubble would float
For a moment, and burst, if you me were without.
It is true that you sometimes do rise up so high,
My efforts are powerless, however I try
To arrange or collect your ideas, so that you
Must do that yourself you intended to do;
But that if you think too much trouble, then I,
So well as I can, your place must supply.
It happened that sage old Experience stood by,
Who, casting on each his deep-piercing eye,
Said, Gentlemen, of both you much I have heard,
But Talent by me I confess is preferred ;
For while you this world with beauty are filling,
Sir Genius, pray tell me, are you worth a shilling P
You live in a region that has much of earth,
Although you despise oft the place of your birth;
And matter and mind united must be,
Before we a useful production can see.
Now you give the mind, but Talent the matter,
Inventive are you, productive the latter !
You with empty pockets oft saunter away,
While Talent is heaping up riches each day ;
Besides, sir, the term we in vain try to soften,
You Geniuses are much too prodigal often.
But Talent industriously sits day by day,
And, as you are pleased to say, plods on his way.



But, sir, your invention, his work and his thought,
Have science and art to its present state brought.
Forgive me, Sir Genius, I prize you most highly,
But Talent I fancy acts usefully wily:
He works and he watches, that he may obtain
Enough to keep out cold, hunger, and rain.


A SWEET little rosebud just opened to day,
By the side of its parent-stem grew,
But an insidious monster soon made it its prey :
Quick snapped it from off the fond fostering spray,
And away with its victim it flew.

Its parents beheld this, and were much cast down
At affliction so painful as this,
For the seed of rejoicing had lately been sown,
And that on each day seemed increasingly grown,
Which proved but the vision of bliss.

Can reason determine why it was decreed,
It thus lovely and early should die ?
Why joy into sadness should quickly recede,
Each bosom with exquisite suffering bleed ?-
Ye oracles answer the Why ?


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