Part 2

"Look at my necklace--real pearls! My ear-rings, how they shine; I think I know some little girls Would like to be as fine."

Said Fanny, "Your papa, 'tis true, Your dress can well afford; But if you think I envy you, I don't--upon my word.

"My father loves to see me dress Quite modest, neat, and clean; In plain white muslin, I confess, I'm happy as a queen.

"_Your_ Parents after pleasures roam, Not like papa, for he Delights to stay with me at home-- _Now_ don't you envy me?"

HOW TO LOOK WHEN SPEAKING

"Louisa, my love," Mrs. Manners began, "I fear you are learning to stare, To avoid looking bold, I must give you a plan, Quite easy to practise with care.

"It is not a lady's or gentleman's eyes You should look at, whenever address'd, Whilst hearing them speak, or in making replies, To look at the _mouth_ is the best.

"This method is modest and easy to learn, When children are glad to be taught; And ah! what a pleasure it is in return, To speak and to look as you ought!"

ISABELLA'S PARACHUTE

Once as little Isabella Ventured, with a large umbrella, Out upon a rainy day, She was nearly blown away.

Sadly frighten'd then was she, For 'twas very near the sea, And the wind was very high, But, alas! no friend was nigh.

Luckily, her good mamma Saw her trouble from afar; Running just in time, she caught her Pretty little flying daughter.

_Note._--This story recalls the adventures of Robert at the end of _Struwwelpeter_. Robert, however, was not caught.

MARIA SNUBBED

Maria had an aunt at Leeds, For whom she made a purse of beads; 'Twas neatly done, by all allow'd, And praise soon made her vain and proud.

Her mother, willing to repress This strong conceit of cleverness, Said, "I will show you, if you please, A honeycomb, the work of bees!

"Yes, look within their hive, and then Examine well your purse again; Compare your merits, and you will Admit the insects' greater skill!"

MATILDA'S EXTRAVAGANCE

That beautiful cottage not far from the road In holiday time was Matilda's abode, Who, taken one day by her aunt to the town, Had put in her purse rather more than a crown: 'Twas either to keep, or to give, or to spend In what she lik'd best, for herself or a friend: Soon trinkets and ribbons in turn made her stop To purchase a trifle at every shop, Before she remember'd the canvas and wool She intended to buy when her purse appear'd full; Then wanted to borrow, a favour her aunt Refus'd, because very improper to grant. Young ladies' extravagance ought to be met By teaching them--_never to run into debt_.

PAPA'S WATCHFULNESS

Mamma had ordered Ann, the maid, Miss Caroline to wash; And put on with her clean white frock A handsome muslin sash.

But Caroline began to cry, For what you cannot think: She said, "Oh, that's an ugly sash; I'll have my pretty pink."

Papa, who in the parlour heard Her make the noise and rout, That instant went to Caroline, To whip her, there's no doubt.

ISABELLA'S DEFEAT

"Mamma, I quite dislike these shoes, I hope you'll send them back; They are so ugly! I should choose Much prettier than black!

"I thought you mention'd blue or buff When ordering a pair, Or green I should like well enough, But black I cannot bear!"

Young Isabella's prattle o'er, Her mother soon express'd A wish that she would say no more, Since _black_ ones suited best.

Which, when the little lady heard, She did not say another word.

THE TWO PATIENTS

Miss Lucy Wright, though not so tall, Was just the age of Sophy Ball, But I have always understood Miss Sophy was not half so good: For as they both had faded teeth, Their teacher sent for Doctor Heath, But Sophy made a dreadful rout, And would not have hers taken out; But Lucy Wright endured the pain, Nor did she ever once complain. Her teeth return'd quite sound and white, While Sophy's ached both day and night.

FANNY'S BAD HABIT

Fanny Fletcher is forgetful, Never wilful in her life, Neither obstinate nor fretful, Loving truth and shunning strife.

From a girl of so much merit, May we not in time expect She will show a proper spirit _One_ wrong habit to correct?

Friends will say it is a pity If her resolution fails-- Fanny looks both good and pretty When she does not bite her nails!

SARAH'S DANGER

Those who saw Miss Sarah gaping In the middle of the day, This remark were often making On this dull and drowsy way:

"Half asleep, and yet she's waken! If, poor child, she is not sick, Some good method must be taken To correct this idle trick."

THE HOYDEN

Miss Agnes had two or three dolls and a box To hold all her bonnets and tippets and frocks; In a red leather thread-case that snapp'd when it shut, She had needles to sew with and scissors to cut; But Agnes liked better to play with rude boys Than work with her needle, or play with her toys.

Young ladies should always appear neat and clean, Yet Agnes was seldom dress'd fit to be seen. I saw her one morning attempting to throw A very large stone, when it fell on her toe: The boys, who were present and saw what was done, Set up a loud laugh, and they call'd it fine fun.

But I took her home, and the doctor soon came, And Agnes, I fear, will a long time be lame: As from morning till night she laments very much, That now when she walks she must lean on a crutch; And she told her dear father, a thousand times o'er, That she never will play with rude boys any more.

_Note._--"Hoyden" is not used now. We say "Tomboy."

THE GIDDY GIRL

Miss Helen was always too giddy to heed What her mother had told her to shun, For frequently over the street in full speed She would cross where the carriages run.

And out she would go to a very deep well, To look at the water below; How naughty! to run to a dangerous well, Where her mother forbade her to go!

One morning, intending to take but one peep, Her foot slipp'd away from the ground: Unhappy misfortune! the water was deep, And giddy Miss Helen was drown'd.

A WARNING TO FRANCES

As Frances was playing and turning around, Her head grew so giddy she fell to the ground; 'Twas well that she was not much hurt; But, O what a pity! her frock was so soil'd That had you beheld the unfortunate child, You had seen her all cover'd with dirt.

Her mother was sorry, and said, "Do not cry, And Mary shall wash you, and make you quite dry, If you'll promise to turn round no more." "What, not in the parlour?" the little girl said. "No, not in the parlour; for lately I read Of a girl who was hurt with the door.

"She was playing and turning, until her poor head Fell against the hard door, and it very much bled; And I heard Dr. Camomile tell That he put on a plaster and cover'd it up, Then he gave her some tea that was bitter to sup, Or perhaps it had never been well."

PLAYING WITH FIRE

The friends of little Mary Green Are now in deep distress, The family will soon be seen To wear a mournful dress.

It seems, from litter on the floor, She had been lighting straws, Which caught the muslin frock she wore, A sad event to cause.

Her screams were loud and quickly heard, And remedies applied, But all in vain, she scarcely stirr'd Again, before she died!

HOW TO HEAL A BURN

O, we have had a sad mishap! As Clara lay in Nurse's lap, Too near the fire the chair did stand-- A coal flew out and burnt her hand.

It must have flown above the guard, It came so quick and hit so hard; And, would you think it? raised a blister. O, how she cried! poor little sister!

Poor thing! I grieved to see it swell. "What will you put to make it well?" "Why," said Mamma, "I really think Some scraped potato, or some ink,

"A little vinegar, or brandy, Whichever nurse can find most handy: All these are good, my little daughter, But nothing's better than cold water."

MARY ANNE'S KINDNESS

How mischievous it was, when Will Push'd his young sister down the hill, Then ran away, a naughty boy, Although he heard her sadly cry!

Their mother, who was walking out, Saw the rude trick, and heard him shout; With gentle voice, but angry nod, She threaten'd Willy with the rod.

But Mary Anne, afraid of this, Begg'd they might now be friends and kiss: She said, "Mamma, I feel no pain, And Willy won't do so again."

Then Willy call'd his sister "good," And said he "never, never would."

AMBITIOUS SOPHY

Miss Sophy, one fine sunny day, Left her work and ran away. When she reach'd the garden-gate, She found it lock'd, but would not wait, So tried to climb and scramble o'er A gate as high as any door.

But little girls should never climb, And Sophy won't another time; For when upon the highest rail, Her frock was caught upon a nail: She lost her hold, and, sad to tell, Was hurt and bruised--for down she fell.

DRESSED OR UNDRESSED

When children are naughty and will not be dress'd, Pray, what do you think is the way? Why, often I really believe it is best To keep them in night-clothes all day!

But then they can have no good breakfast to eat, Nor walk with their Mother or Aunt; At dinner they'll have neither pudding nor meat, Nor anything else that they want.

Then who would be naughty, and sit all the day In night-clothes unfit to be seen? And pray, who would lose all their pudding and play, For not being dress'd neat and clean?

MRS. BIRCH'S INFLUENCE

"Indeed you are troublesome, Anne," said her aunt, "You begg'd me to bring you abroad, And now you are cross and pretend that you want To be carried the rest of the road.

"I hope you know better than cry in the street: The people will think it so odd, And if Mrs. Birch we should happen to meet, She will ask if we want a new rod.

"Then dry up your tears; with a smile on your face You will speak in a different tune. And now you have cleverly mended your pace, We shall both be at home very soon."

REBELLIOUS FRANCES

The babe was in the cradle laid, And Tom had said his prayers, When Frances told the nursery-maid She would not go upstairs.

She cried so loud her mother came To ask the reason why, And said, "Oh, Frances, fie for shame! Oh fie! Oh fie! Oh fie!"

But Frances was more naughty still, And Betty sadly nipp'd: Until her mother said, "I will-- I must have Frances whipp'd.

"For, oh! how naughty 'tis to cry, But worse, much worse to fight, Instead of running readily And calling out, 'Good-night!'"

Kindness and Cruelty

THE HARMLESS COW

A very young lady, And Susan the maid, Who carried the baby, Were one day afraid.

They saw a cow feeding, Quite harmless and still: Yet scream'd, without heeding The man at the mill,

Who, seeing their flutter, Said, "Cows do no harm; But send you good butter And milk from the farm."

THE HARMLESS WORM

As Sally sat upon the ground, A little crawling worm she found Among the garden dirt; And when she saw the worm she scream'd, And ran away and cried, and seem'd As if she had been hurt.

Mamma, afraid some serious harm Made Sally scream, was in alarm, And left the parlour then; But when the cause she came to learn, She bade her daughter back return, To see the worm again.

The worm they found kept writhing round, Until it sank beneath the ground; And Sally learned that day That worms are very harmless things, With neither teeth, nor claws, nor stings To frighten her away.

THE BAD DONKEY-BOY'S GOOD FORTUNE

"How can you bear to use him so, You cruel little monkey? Oh give him not another blow, But spare the patient Donkey."

"I own," his mother said, "dear James, You please me by your feeling; But you do wrong to call him names, Your anger too revealing."

"Well then," said James, "if what I say, Poor Donkey, won't relieve you-- Here, boy, don't beat him all to-day, And sixpence I will give you."

"You now behave," said she, "my dear, Like many much above you; In these kind actions persevere, And all your friends will love you."

GRATEFUL CARLO

"Oh, do not drown that pretty thing," One morn I heard Matilda say-- "Do, now, untie that cruel string, And do not drown him, Robert, pray.

"His feet, how drolly mark'd they are; And feel his coat, as soft as silk; Oh, let me have him, dear mamma, And let him share my bread and milk."

Now little Carlo wagg'd his tail, And, looking up, he seem'd to say, "My gratitude shall never fail To you for saving me to-day."

And some months after, so it proved, Carlo, the grateful, strong, and brave, His mistress (whom he dearly loved) Deliver'd from a watery grave.

GRATEFUL LUCY

As Lucy with her mother walk'd, She play'd and gambol'd, laugh'd and talk'd Till, coming to the river side, She slipp'd, and floated down the tide.

Her faithful Carlo being near, Jump'd in to save his mistress dear; He drew her carefully to shore, And Lucy lives and laughs once more.

"Dear gen'rous Carlo," Lucy said, "You ne'er shall want for meat and bread; For every day, before I dine, Good Carlo shall have some of mine."

GRATEFUL TRUSTY

Philip's playful dog was willing Always to be set on watch; When a whelp, by daily drilling, Trusty seldom found his match!

Philip bought him very early From a beggar going round, Who, from being poor or surly, Said he should be "sold or drown'd."

Trusty well repaid his master For the care of rearing him, For he sav'd from like disaster Philip, when he learn'd to swim!

SOMETHING IN STORE FOR RICHARD

Richard is a cruel boy, The people call him "Dick," For every day he seems to try Some new improper trick!

He takes delight in whipping cats And pulling off their fur; Although at first he gently pats, And listens to their purr!

A naughty boy! unless he mends, He will be told to strip, And learn how such amusement ends By feeling his own whip.

THE RESULT OF CRUELTY

Jack Parker was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole employ; And much it grieved his friends to find His thoughts so wickedly inclined.

He thought it clever to deceive, And often ramble without leave; And ev'ry animal he met He dearly loved to plague and fret.

But all such boys, unless they mend, May come to an unhappy end, Like Jack, who got a fractured skull Whilst bellowing at a furious bull.

Things to Eat

WHAT IS BEST FOR CHILDREN

"Mamma, why mayn't I, when we dine, Eat ham and goose, and drink white wine? And pray, why may not I, like you, Have soup and fish, and mutton too?"

"Because, my dear, it is not right To spoil a youthful appetite; By things unwholesome, though enjoy'd, The infant appetite is cloy'd.

"A slice of mutton, roast or boil'd, Or good roast beef, best suits a child; A bread, or ground-rice, pudding too Is food adapted well for you.

"From eating highly flavour'd things Illness or inconvenience springs; You lose the love of common food, Nor relish what will do you good."

BILLY GILL'S GOOD FORTUNE

"Come, let us play," Said Tommy Gay; "Well then, what at?" Said Simon Pratt; "At trap and ball," Said Neddy Hall; "Well, so we will," Said Billy Gill.

"What a hot day!" Said Tommy Gay; "Then let us chat," Said Simon Pratt; "On yonder hill," Said Billy Gill. "Ay, one and all," Said Neddy Hall.

"For cakes I'll pay," Said Tommy Gay; "I'm one for that," Said Simon Pratt; "I'll bring them all," Said Neddy Hall; "And I'll sit still," Said Billy Gill.

"Come with me, pray," Said Tommy Gay; "Trust me for that," Said Simon Pratt; They ate them all, Gay, Pratt, and Hall; And all were ill But Billy Gill.

CIVIL SPEECH

"Give me some beer!" cried little Jane, At dinner-table as she sat. Her mother said, "Pray ask again, And in a prettier way than that.

"For 'give me that,' and 'give me this,' Is not the best way to be heard: To make Ann hear, a little Miss Must add another little word."

"Pray, give me, Ann, a glass of beer," Jane blushing said--her mother smiled: "Now Ann will quickly bring it here, For you ask properly, my child."

You little Misses, Masters too, Who wish to have a share of praise, Pray copy Jane, and always do Directly what your mother says.

THE COOK'S REBUKE

James went to the door of the kitchen and said, "Cook, give me this moment, some honey and bread; Then fetch me a glass or a cup of good beer. Why, Cook, you don't stir, and I'm sure you must hear!"

"Indeed, Master James," was the Cook's right reply, "To answer such language I feel rather shy; I hear you quite plainly, but wait till you choose To civilly ask, when I shall not refuse."

What a pity young boys should indulge in this way, Whilst knowing so well what is proper to say; As if civil words, in a well-manner'd tone, Were learn'd to be us'd in the parlour alone!

THE LOST PUDDING

Miss Kitty was rude at the table one day, And would not sit still on her seat; Regardless of all that her mother could say, From her chair little Kitty kept running away All the time they were eating their meat.

As soon as she saw that the beef was remov'd, She ran to her chair in great haste; But her mother such giddy behaviour reprov'd By sending away the sweet pudding she lov'd, Without giving Kitty one taste.

SAMMY SMITH'S SAD FATE

Sammy Smith would drink and eat, From morning until night; He filled his mouth so full of meat, It was a shameful sight.

Sometimes he gave a book or toy For apple, cake, or plum; And grudged if any other boy Should taste a single crumb.

Indeed he ate and drank so fast, And used to stuff and cram, The name they call'd him by at last Was often Greedy Sam.

STUPID WILLIAM

William has a silly trick-- On everything his hand he lays; He made himself extremely sick, One morning, by his greedy ways.

I promised him I'd write it here (Although he owns he's much to blame), That all may read it far and near, Lest other boys should do the same.

No scatter'd bits his eye can pass, He tastes and sips where'er he comes, He empties everybody's glass, And picks up everybody's crumbs.

He'll not do so again, I hope: He has been warn'd enough, I think; For once he ate a piece of soap, And sipp'd for wine a glass of ink.

POISONOUS FRUIT

As Tommy and his sister Jane Were walking down a shady lane, They saw some berries, bright and red, That hung around and overhead;

And soon the bough they bended down, To make the scarlet fruit their own; And part they ate, and part, in play, They threw about, and flung away.

But long they had not been at home Before poor Jane and little Tom Were taken sick, and ill, to bed, And since, I've heard, they both are dead.

Alas! had Tommy understood That fruit in lanes is seldom good, He might have walked with little Jane Again along the shady lane.

HARRY'S CAKE

"Betty, attend to what I say, This is my little boy's birth-day; Some sugar-plums and citron take, And send to school a large plum-cake."

"That, madam, I will gladly do; Harry's so good and clever too: So let me have some wine and spice. For I would make it very nice."

When it arriv'd, the little boy Laugh'd, sang, and jump'd about for joy; But, ah! how griev'd I am to say, He did not give a bit away.

He _ate_, and _ate_, and _ate_ his fill, No wonder that it made him ill; Pain in his stomach and his head Oblig'd him soon to go to bed.

Oh! long he lay, and griev'd the while, Order'd by Dr. Camomile Such physic, and so much to take, He now can't bear the name of cake.

PETER'S CAKE

Peter Careful had a cake Which his kind mamma did bake; Of butter, eggs, and currants made, And sent to Peter--_carriage paid_.

"Now," said Peter, "they shall see, Wiser than Harry I will be; For I will keep my cake in store, And that will make it last the more."

He, like Harry (sad to say), Did not give a bit away, But, miser-like, the cake he locks With all his playthings in his box.

And sometimes silently he'd go, When all he thought engag'd below, To eat a _very little_ piece, For fear his treasure should decrease.

When next he went (it makes me laugh) He found the mice had eaten half, And what remain'd, though once a treat, So mouldy, 'twas not fit to eat.

WILLIAM'S CAKE

Young William Goodchild was a boy Who lov'd to give his playmates joy; And when his mother sent _his_ cake, Rejoic'd for his companions' sake.

"Come round," he cried, "each take a slice, Each have his proper share of ice; We'll eat it up among us, here: My birth-day comes but once a year."

A poor blind man, who came that way, His violin began to play; But though he play'd, he did not speak, And tears ran slowly down his cheek.

"What makes you weep?" young William cried. "I'm poor and hungry," he replied, "For food and home I'm forced to play, But I have eaten nought to-day."

"Poor man!" said William, "half my share Remains, which I will gladly spare; I wish 'twas larger for your sake, So take this penny and the cake."

I need not ask each youthful breast Which of these boys you like the best; Let goodness, then, incitement prove, And imitate the boy you love.

HOW TO MAKE A CHRISTMAS PUDDING

Now, little Sophy, come with me, To make a pudding you shall see; Now sit quite still, and see me do it; See, here's the flour and the suet.

The suet must be chopped quite small, For it should scarce be seen at all; A pound of each will nicely suit, To which I put two pounds of fruit.

One is of currants, one of plums (You'll find it good when boiled it comes); Then almonds, sugar, citron, spice, And peel, will make it very nice.

Now see me stir and mix it well, And then we'll leave the rest to Nell; Now see, the pudding-cloth she flours, Ties it, and boils it full five hours.

THE END

_Printed by_ R. & R. Clark, Ltd., _Edinburgh_

_For a list of Children's books and others see the next pages._

"THE DUMPY BOOKS FOR CHILDREN"

No. I.

The Flamp,

The Ameliorator,

AND THE

Schoolboy's Apprentice

BY

EDWARD VERRALL LUCAS