Chapter 5

There's the lazy girl, And the daisy girl, And the girl that has two faces; There's the girl that's shy, And the girl that's fly And the girl that bets on races

There are many others, Oh! men and brothers, Than are named in this narration. There are girls _and_ girls, Yet they're all of them pearls, Quite the best sorts in creation.

Girl's Names

There is a strange deformity Combined with countless graces, As often in the ladies' names, As in the ladies faces; Some names fit for every age, Some only fit for youth; Some passing sweet and musical, Some horribly uncouth; Some fit for dames of loftiest grades, Some only fit for scullery maids Ann is too plain and common, And Nancy sounds but ill; Yet Anna is endurable, And Annie better still, There is a grace in Charlotte, In Eleanor a state, An elegance in Isabel, A haughtiness in Kate; And Sarah is sedate and neat, And Ellen innocent and sweet Matilda has a sickly sound, Fit for a nurse's trade; Sophie is effeminate, And Esther sage and staid; Elizabeth's a matchless name, Fit for a queen to wear In castle, cottage, hut, or hall-- A name beyond compare; And Bess, and Bessie follow well, But Betsy is detestable. Maria is too forward, And Gertrude is too gruff, Yet, coupled with a pretty face, Is pretty name enough' And Adelaide is fanciful, And Laura is too fine, But Emily is beautiful, And Mary is divine Maud only suits a high-born dame, And Fanny is a baby name Eliza is not very choice, Jane is too blunt and Bold, And Martha somewhat sorrowful, And Lucy proud and cold; Amelia is too light and gay, Fit for only a flirt; And Caroline is vain and shy, And Flora smart and pert; Louisa is too soft and sleek But Alice--gentle, chaste and meek And Harriet is confiding, And Clara grave and mild. And Emma is affectionate, And Janet arch and wild! And Patience is expressive, And Grace is cold and rare, And Hannah warm and dutiful, And Margaret frank and fair And Faith, and Hope and Charity Are heavenly names for sisters three.

Sarah

Oh, Sarah mine, hark to my song Your slumbers soft invading. For here beneath your window-sill I come a-Sarah-nading.

You know my fond heart beats for you In tenderest adoration, And then, you know, I long to have You be my own Sal-vation.

The day's not far when you'll be mine-- The thought makes my soul merry; You'll be the pride of all my life, But not my adver-Sarey.

The tender fates shall crown your lot, And sweet contentment parcel; And while you're just the world to me, Love will be univer-Sal.

With bridal altar draped with flowers And everything so tony, In crowded church we will be wed With lots of Sarah-money.

There's nothing I'll not do for you Till life comes to an end, dear. I'd brave the battles of the world And fight a Sara-cen, dear.

I must to sleep, Sal, soda you, For here I must not dally, For that bull-dog I hear, like me, Is bound to have a Sally.

Several Kinds of Girls

A good girl to have--Sal Vation. A disagreeable girl--Anna Mosity. A fighting girl--Hittie Magginn. Not a Christian girl--Hettie Rodoxy. A sweet girl--Carrie Mel. A pleasant girl--Jennie Rosity. A sick girl--Sallie Vate. A smooth girl--Amelia Ration. A seedy girl--Cora Ander. One of the best girls--Ella Gant. A clear case of girl--E. Lucy Date. A geometrical girl--Rhoda Dendron. A musical girl--Sarah Nade. A profound girl--Mettie Physics. A star girl--Meta Oric. A clinging girl--Jessie Mine. A nervous girl--Hester Ical. A muscular girl--Callie Sthenici. A lively girl--Anna Mation. An uncertain girl--Eva Nescent. A sad girl--Ella G. A serene girl--Molly Fy. A great big girl--Ella Phant. A warlike girl--Millie Tary. The best girl of all--Your Own.

[Page 20--Girl Land]

Jumping-Jennie

Jennie has a jumping-rope As slender as a whip. And all about the street and house She'd skip, and skip, and skip.

She knocked the vases from the shelf, Upset the stools and chairs, And one unlucky day, alas! Went headlong down the stairs.

Against the wall, against the door Her head she often bumped, And stumbled here, and stumbled there, Yet still she jumped, and jumped.

She jumped so high, she jumped so hard, That--so the story goes-- She wore her shoes and stockings out, Likewise her heels and toes.

I Don't Care

Matilda was a pretty girl, And she had flaxen hair; And yet she used those naughty words "I'm sure I do not care."

She once her lessons would not learn, But talk'd about the fair, And lost her tickets, but she said, "I'm sure I do not care."

As she advanced to riper years, I'm sorry to declare, She still preserved those naughty words, "I'm sure I do not care."

She grew a woman, and for life 'Twas time she should prepare, But still she said "there's time enough, If not, I do not care."

Duties neglected, warnings spurn'd, Her mother in despair; And though she saw the evil done, She said, "I do not care."

Still on she went from bad to worse, She spurned her father's prayer; Who feared she'd find an awful end, Because she would not care.

Afflictions came, and death in view, Which filled her with despair; Her God neglected, and she feared For her He would not care.

Could you have then Matilda seen, Or heard her broken prayer, She urged her friends never to use Those awful words--Don't Care.

Little Miss Meddlesome

Little Miss Meddlesome Scattering crumbs, Into the library Noisily comes-- Twirls off her apron, Tilts open some books, And into a work-basket Rummaging, looks.

Out goes the spools spinning Over the floor, Beeswax and needle-case Stepped out before; She tosses the tape-rule And plays with the floss, And says to herself, "Now won't mamma be cross!"

Little Miss Meddlesome Climbs to the shelf, Since no-one is looking, And mischievous elf, Pulls down the fine vases, The cuckoo-clock stops, And sprinkles the carpet With damaging drops.

She turns over the ottoman, Frightens the bird, And sees that the chairs In a medley are stirred; Then creeps on the sofa, And, all in a heap, Drops out of her Frolicsome mischief asleep.

But here comes the nurse, Who is shaking her head, And frowns at the mischief Asleep on her bed. But let's hope when Miss Meddlesome's Slumber is o'er, She may wake from good dreams And do mischief no more.

Careless Matilda

"Again, Matilda, Is your work astray, Your thimble is gone! Your scissors, where are they?

Your needles, pins, your thread, And tapes all lost-- Your housewife here, And there your work-bag tost.

Fie, fie, my child! Indeed this will not do, Your hair uncomb'd, Your frock in tatters too;

I'm now resolv'd No more delays to grant, This day I'll send you To your stern old aunt."

In vain Matilda wept, Repented, pray'd, In vain a promise Of amendment made.

Arriv'd at Austere Hall, Matilda sigh'd. By Lady Rigid, When severely eyed.

"You read, and write, And work well, as I'm told, Are gentle, kind, good-natur'd, Far from bold.

But very careless, Negligent, and wild-- When you leave me, You'll be a different child."

The little girl Next morn a favour asks: "I wish to take a walk," "Go learn your tasks,"

The lady harsh replies, "Nor cry nor whine. Your room you leave not Till you're call'd to dine."

As thus Matilda sat, O'erwhelm'd with shame, A dame appear'd, Disorder was her name.

Her hair and dress neglected, Soil'd her face, She squinted leer'd, And hobbled in her pace.

"Here, child," she said, "My mistress sends you this, A bag of silks-- A flow'r not work'd amiss--

A polyanthus bright, And wondrous gay; You'll copy it by noon, She bade me say." Disorder grinn'd, Then shuffling walk'd away.

Entangled were The silks of every hue, Confus'd and mix'd Were shades of pink, green, blue;

She took a thread, Compar'd it with the flow'r; "To finish this is Not within my pow'r.

Well-order'd silks Had Lady Rigid sent, I might have work'd, If such was her intent."

She sigh'd, and melted Into sobs and tears, She hears a noise And at the door appears

A pretty maiden, clean, Well-dress'd, and neat Her voice was soft, Her looks sedate, yet sweet.

"My name is Order, Do not cry my love; Attend to me, And thus you may improve."

She took the silks, And drew out shade for shade, In sep'rate skeins, Each hue with care she laid; Then smiling kindly, Left the little maid.

Matilda now resumed Her sweet employ, And sees the flow'r complete-- How great her joy.

She leaves the room, "I've done my task," she cries. But soon her harshness The lady look'd With disbelieving eyes, Chang'd to glad surprise.

"Why this is well! A very pretty flow'r, Work'd clean, exact, And done within the hour!

And now amuse yourself, Ride, walk or play." Thus passed Matilda This much-dreaded day.

At all her tasks Disorder would attend At all her tasks Still Order stood her friend.

With tears and sighs Her studies oft began, These into smiles Were changed by Order's plan;

No longer Lady Rigid Seem'd severe, Her looks the negligent Alone need fear.

And when the day The wish'd-for day is come When young Matilda's Suffer'd to go home:

"You quit me, child, But oft to mind recall The time you spent With me at Austere Hall.

And now, my dear, I'll give you one of these, Your servant she will be; Take which you please."

"From me," Disorder asked, "Old friend, why start?" Matilda clasped Sweet Order to her heart. "My dearest girl," she cried, "We'll never part."

[Page 21--Girl Land]

Forty Little School Girls

Forty little school girls, running, but not flirty; Ten ran into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but thirty.

Thirty little school girls swimming the river Plenty; Ten swam into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but twenty.

Twenty little school girls jumping in velveteen; One jumped into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were nineteen.

Nineteen little school girls going out a-skating; One skated into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but eighteen.

Eighteen little school girls dancing with the queen; One danced into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were seventeen.

Seventeen little school girls driving a bullock team; One drove into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were sixteen.

Sixteen little school girls creeping out unseen; One crept into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were fifteen.

Fifteen little school girls hopping on the green; One hopped into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were fourteen.

Fourteen little schoolgirls floating down a stream; One floated into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were thirteen.

Thirteen little school girls leaping out to delve; One leaped into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but twelve.

Twelve little school girls racing out for leaven; One raced into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were eleven.

Eleven little school girls dodging a lion when-- One dodged into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but ten.

Ten little school girls, all skipping in a line; One skipped into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but nine.

Nine little school girls swinging on a gate; One swung into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but eight.

Eight little school girls, trying to fly to heaven; One flew into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but seven.

Seven little school girls tripping out for sticks; One tripped into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but six.

Six little school girls, going for a dive; One dived into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but five.

Five little school girls, sailing to explore; One sailed into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but four.

Four little school girls steaming on the sea; One steamed into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but three.

Three little school girls, riding on a moo; One rode into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there were but two.

Two little school girls, sliding about for fun; One slid into Cole's Book Arcade, And then there was but one.

One little school girl, the nicest, last and best, She walked into Cole's Book Arcade, And read books with all the rest.

The following is the way that each girl went into Cole's Book Arcade:

Ada ran into it. Agnes ran into it. Alice ran into it. Amy ran into it. Annie ran into it. Angelina ran into it. Bessie ran into it. Bridget ran into it. Carrie ran into it. Clara ran into it. Edith swam into it. Eliza swam into it. Emily swam into it. Emma swam into it. Fanny swam into it. Florence swam into it. Hannah swam into it. Harriet swam into it. Jane swam into it. Jessie swam into it. Kate jumped into it. Lillie skated into it. Lizzie danced into it. Lottie drove into it. Louisa crept into it. Lucy hopped into it. Mary floated into it. Martha leaped into it. Matilda raced into it. Maggie dodged into it. Maria skipped into it. Mabel swung into it. Maude flew into it. May tripped into it. Minnie dived into it. Nellie sailed into it. Olive Steamed into it. Rose rode into it. Sarah slid into it. Tottie walked into it.

N.B.--Any little girl is invited to walk, run, jump, dance, skip, hop, swim, fly, or come into Cole's Book Arcade in any way she chooses, the same as the Forty Little School Girls.

Story Of The Funny Monkeys

Once there was a funny old monkey--and this old monkey had six young monkeys. There was one white monkey, and one black monkey, and one yellow monkey, and one red monkey, and one blue monkey, and one green monkey; and the white monkey's name was Linda, and the black monkey's name was Eddie, and the yellow monkey's name was Vally, and the red monkey's name was Ruby, and the blue monkey's name was Pearl, and the green Monkey's name was Ivy Diamond. And the white monkey liked apples, and the black monkey liked grapes, and the yellow monkey liked cherries, and the red monkey liked strawberries, and the blue monkey liked oranges, and the green monkey liked nuts, and that's all about these FUNNY MONKEYS. The names of any children can be told in this story instead of Linda, Eddie, Vally, Ruby, Pearl, and Diamond.

[Page 22--Girl Land]

Tangle Pate

There was a girl, named tanglepate, She lived--I won't say where-- Who was not willing any one Should comb or curl her hair.

She cried and made a dreadful fuss, At morning, noon, or night, And did not seem at all ashamed Of looking like a fright.

Her hair stood out around her head Just like a lion's mane, And she was scolded, coaxed, and teased About it--but in vain.

It caught on buttons, hooks, and boughs As here and there she rushed, And yet she would not consent To have it combed or brushed.

And so she fell asleep one day Within the woods, and there Two birdies came and built a nest Amid her tangled hair.

A Careless Girl

I know a very careless girl, Her hair is always out of curl, In rags and tatters are her clothes, And she's a fright, you may suppose.

Her skirts she catches on a nail, And leaves behind and ugly trail; Her sashes always are untied, Her dresses always gaping wide.

'Tis her delight to tear and rend, She does not like to patch or mend, And 'tis no wonder that she goes So out at elbows and at toes.

Naughty Girl

The naughty girl Never minds mamma, Always says, "I won't!" To dear papa! Makes a great deal of noise About the house. When her mother wants her As still as a mouse.

She pinches the cat, She pulls her tail; And takes the bird-cage Down from the nail; Teases her brothers, And spoils her hair, And reproved says, "I don't care!"

She worries poor grandma, Makes baby cry; She cannot please him, And I know why:-- She lets him lie In the crib and moan, While she is amusing Herself alone.

At school she forgets What the teacher said, Sits idly leaning her hands On her head; She never learns The task that's given, And cannot tell even Seven times seven.

At table she's careless, And spills her drink, Can never be taught To "stop and think;" Gets down from the table And goes to play, To do the same over Another day.

Mopy Maria

Mopy Maria Would sit by the fire, It seemed to be Her greatest desire; Bent and bowed As if wrapped in a shroud, And her face as black As a thunder-cloud.

She filled the room So full of gloom, The place was as Dismal as a tomb; And few would admire Her, or desire To spend much time With Mopy Maria,

She moped and pined Yet no-one could find That any trouble Disturbed her mind; Nor reasons good Why she should brood An such a Ridiculous attitude.

It wasn't her style To laugh and smile She didn't think It was worth her while; So dull and flat She daily sat Like a Chinese idol, Or worse than that,

If the children came To propose a game Of any sort, It was all the same; She wouldn't play, She wouldn't be gay, But sat and pouted The livelong day.

Her face grew thin; And at length her chin Grew long and sharp; Oh! as sharp as a pin! And one windy day She blew away Like a great big kite That had gone astray.

The winds were high, And she had to fly Away at their bidding; It made her cry; But she couldn't get higher Than the tall church spire, So there she stuck-- Poor Mopy Maria!

Disobedient May

Naughty May will not obey, But will always have her way Every moment of the day.

If you say do this, or that, She will be amazed thereat, Show her claws like any cat.

O she is a naughty child! Very fond of running wild, Never gentle, meek, or mild.

Some fine day, I don't know when-- She'll be popp'd in piggy's pen, And be most unhappy then.

Pigs are stubborn things indeed, Will not go as you would lead, Never words of counsel heed.

And pig-headed folks are they Who will always have their way, Spite of anything you say.

Sluttishness

Oh! Mary, my mary, Why, where is your dolly? Look here, I protest, on the floor: To leave her about In the dirt so is folly, You ought to be trusted no more.

I thought you were pleas'd. And receiv'd her quite gladly, When on your birthday she came home; Did I ever suppose You would use her so sadly, And strew her things over the room?

Her bonnet of straw You once thought a great matter, And tied it so pretty and neat; Now see how 'tis crumpled, No trencher is flatter, It grieves your mamma thus to see't.

Suppose (you're my Dolly, You know, little daughter, Whom I love to dress neat, and see good), Suppose in my care of you, I were to falter, And let you get dirty and rude!

But Dolly's mere wood, You are flesh and bone living, And deserves better treatment and care; That is true, my sweet girl, 'Tis the reason I'm giving This lesson so sharp and severe.

'Tis not for the Dolly I'm anxious and fearful, Tho' she cost too much to be spoil'd; I'm afraid lest yourself Should get sluttish, not careful, And that were a sad thing, my child.

Jane, who Bit her Nails

When I was living down in Wales, I knew a girl who bit her nails; Her finger-ends became so sore, The blood flowed from them to the floor.

The more she bit the more they bled, Until upon herself she fed; And as she nibbled day by day, The fingers slowly wore away.

See, here she is: she sadly stands With only stumps instead of hands; The silly girl can never play, Yet she was cautioned every day.

Her father said, "You naughty thing, Some wooden fingers I must bring, And try to get them fastened to Your hands with little bits of glue."

Poking Fun

When little Lizzie came across A birdie, or a chick, A duckling, or a gosling, she would poke it with a stick.

She chased the dog, she chased the cat, But when she saw a mouse She gave a scream so very loud It echoed through the house.

She poked the turtles and the frogs And thought it was fine fun, But when the geese poked out their necks At her, she had to run.

One day she chanced to find a hive With not a bee about, And said, "Is any one at home? "I'll very soon find out!"

And so she did. As soon as she Had poked her stick inside, The bees flew out and stung her so She very nearly died.

[Page 23--Girl Land]

The Pin

"Dear me! what signifies a pin, Wedg'd in a rotten board? I'm certain that I won't begin, At ten years old, to hoard! I never will be called a miser; That I'm determined," said Eliza.

So onward tripped the little maid, And left the pin behind, Which very snug and quiet lay, To its hard fate resign'd; Nor did she think (a careless chit) 'Twas worth her while to stoop for it.

Next day a party was to ride To see an air balloon; And all the company beside Were dressed and ready soon: But she a woful case was in, For want of just a single pin.

In vain her eager eyes she brings To ev'ry darksome crack, There was not one! and yet her things Were dropping off her back. She cut her pincushion in two, But no, not one had slidden through.

At last, as hunting on the floor, Over a crack she lay, The carriage rattled to the door, Then rattled fast away: But poor Eliza was not in, For want of just a single pin.

There's hardly anything so small, So trifling or so mean, That we may never want at all, For service unforseen; And wilful waste, depend upon't Brings, almost always, woful want!

Ann Taylor

Stupid Jane

Oh! she was such a stupid Jane, They tried in vain To make things plain, But she would ask and ask again, As if there wasn't any brain Inside the head of stupid Jane.

If she was set to do a task, So many questions she would ask, 'Twas easier far her teachers said To do the work themselves instead, Than try to make her understand The lesson she had in hand.

If on an errand told to go, And cautioned to do thus and so, Turn here and there along the way, Oh! Jane was sure to go astray; For she hade such a crooked pate, She could not do an errand straight.

She did not care for books or toys, She could not play with girls or boys; Because so oft she blocked their games, They used to call her dreadful names, And in loud, angry tones complain, "Oh, what a horrid, Stupid Jane!"

Brought to the parlour nicely drest To be presented to a guest, With finger in her mouth she'd stand And stare about on every hand, Nor answer by a single word, Nor even act as if she heard.

Oh! she was such a stupid Jane, They tried in vain To make things plain, But she would ask and ask again, As if there wasn't any brain Inside the head of stupid Jane.

Little Girl who wouldn't eat Crusts