Part 3

Lulu's Birthday--it is clear-- Likes to meet her every year; Likes to follow Lulu's scorning. So, with fairest flowers adorning All the home, we give it cheer. And with prayer and watchful loving, Though the little maid keep moving, And the time be cold and drear, Sure as comes the Birthday morning, We shall try to have her here.

THE STAR FAMILY.

THE Moon came late to the twinkling sky, To see what the stars were about: "Fair Night," quoth she, "are the family in?" "Oh! no, they are, every one, out."

AS I was a-going to market, I met a man with a goose. Says he: "Big boots with a boy! I guess you came from Toulouse." Says I: "Little goose with a man! How did you leave your mother? I guess you just came from home, For I see you've brought your brother."

TWO LITTLE FROGGIES.

TWO little froggies they sighed to one another: "Our puddle is all liquor and no meat.

Let us sit upon the bank, where the lovely mud is shining, And maybe we'll see something good to eat."

Forty little ants said gayly to their mother: "O mother! we are going to the bogs;" But the forty little ants never dreamed they were going Just to make a dainty dinner for the frogs.

ONE AND ONE.

TWO little girls are better than one Two little boys can double the fun, Two little birds can build a fine nest, Two little arms can love mother best. Two little ponies must go to a span; Two little pockets has my little man; Two little eyes to open and close, Two little ears and one little nose, Two little elbows, dimpled and sweet, Two little shoes on two little feet, Two little lips and one little chin, Two little cheeks with a rose shut in; Two little shoulders, chubby and strong, Two little legs running all day long. Two little prayers does my darling say, Twice does he kneel by my side each day,-- Two little folded hands, soft and brown, Two little eyelids cast meekly down,-- And two little angels guard him in bed, "One at the foot, and one at the head."

BIRDIES AND BABIES.

BIRDIES with broken wings, Hide from each other; But babies in trouble, Can run home to mother.

WILLIE'S LODGER.

TWO little boys, named Willie, Live in the house with me. One is as good a darling As ever I wish to see; His eyes are glad, his smile is sweet, His voice is kind, his dress is neat, And he is the boy for me.

This Willie says, "Good morning!" Happy as any bird; A merrier laugh, a lighter step, No mortal ever heard. "Thank you," he says, and "If you please?" He will not pout, he will not tease-- Oh! he is the boy for me!

The other Willie, sad to say, Is very, very bad; I think he is as cross a child As ever a mother had. "Go 'way!" he shrieks. He squalls and cries, The angry tears oft fill his eyes-- He is not the boy for me.

He lingers round my Willie, And whispers evil things-- Oh! how we dread him! for we know The sin and grief he brings! Who keeps him, then? Why, Willie's self; He keeps this wicked Willie-elf Who is not the boy for me.

If I were you, my Willie, I'd make him stay away,-- This boy who grieves your mother And spoils your brightest day,-- For he lives in you where he doesn't belong; So oust him, Willie! Send him along! "Clear out!" I'd say, "old Fume and Fret! This heart of mine is not to let,-- You're not the boy for me."

FOUR little piggies, bound for a frolic, Ate green apples till one got the colic. One was so greedy he stuffed his maw; One munched so hard that he cracked his jaw. One had the toothache and couldn't chew a bit, So he swallowed them whole and died in a fit.

SPINNING your top, Don't let it flop, boys;

Flying your kite, Pull with your might, boys. Rolling your hoop, Never you stoop, boys; Either stand still, Or play with a will.

GOOD-MORNING.

GOOD-MORNING, mamma! Good-morning, bright sun! Good-morning, papa! The day is begun. Good-morning to every one, pussy as well: Does he sleep like the rest, till he hears the first bell?

Good-morning it is, for the sky is all blue, The grass is just shining and sparkling with dew; The birdies are singing their merriest song, And the air through the window comes sunny and strong.

Good-morning it is, for dark was the night, And chilly and still; but the morning is bright. If God did not watch us and bring us the day, We'd never be able to get up and play.

Good-morning, new day! I'm glad we're awake, Your work and your sunshine and frolic to take; And I'm glad we are able so gayly to call Good-morning! good-morning! Good-morning to all!

LADY-BIRD AND DADDY LONGLEGS.

LADY-BIRD, in gown so gay, Came creeping from the clover; Daddy Longlegs went that way, And nearly knocked her over.

"I'll tell my ant!" she cried out quick. "It beats the bugs!" said he. "A tad-_pole_ for your walking stick Would suit you well," said she.

WOULDN'T AND WOULD.

I WOULDN'T be a growler, I wouldn't be a bear; I wouldn't be an owlet, always on a stare;

I wouldn't be a monkey, doing foolish tricks; I wouldn't be a donkey, full of sullen kicks.

I wouldn't be a goose, Nor a peacock full of pride, But I would be a big boy, With a pocket on each side.

NELL AND HER BIRD.

GOOD-BY, little birdie! Fly to the sky, Singing and singing A merry good-by.

Tell all the birdies, Flying above, Nell, in the garden, Sends them her love.

Tell how I found you, Hurt, in a tree; Then, when they're wounded, They'll come right to me.

I'd like to go with you If I could fly; It must be so beautiful Up in the sky!

Why, little birdie! Why don't you go? You sit on my finger, And shake your head, "No!"--

He's off! Oh! how quickly And gladly he rose! I know he will love me Wherever he goes.

I know--for he really Seemed trying to say, "My dear little Nelly, I can't go away."

But just then some birdies Came flying along, And sang as they neared us A chirruping song;

And he felt just as I do When girls come and shout Right under the window, "Come, Nelly! come out!"

It 's wrong to be sorry; I _ought_ to be glad; But he's the best birdie That ever I had.

THERE was an old weather-vane high on a shed, The wind came a courting and turned his head; And all it could utter for lack of mouth Was--East, and West, and North, and South.

DUMPY DICKY said, "I can't;" Joe said, "By and by;" Grumpy Jacky said, "I shan't;" Tommy said, "I'll try."

"HAVE you heard the news, good neighbor?" "No. What is the news, I pray?" "Why the cat went down to a concert And frightened the music away."

THE NEW SLATE.

SEE my slate! I dot it new, Tos I b'oke the other, Put my 'ittle foot right froo, Running after mother.

I tan make you lots o' sings, Fass as you tan tell 'em, T's and B's and big O rings, Only I tan't spell 'em.

I tan make a funny pig Wid a turly tail-y, 'Ittle eyes, and snout so big Pokin' in a pail-y.

I tan make a elephant, Wid his trunk a-hangin'; An' a boy--who says I tan't?-- Wid his dun a-bangin'.

An' the smoke a-tummin' out (Wid my t'umb I do it, Rubbin' all the white about), Sparks a-flyin' froo it.

I tan make a bu-ful house Wid a tree behind it, An' a 'ittle mousy-mouse Runnin' round to find it.

I tan put my hand out flat On the slate, and draw it (Ticklin' is the worst of that)! Did you ever saw it?

I tan do _me_ runnin' 'bout-- Mamma's 'ittle posset (Slate's so dusty, rubbin' out, Dess oo'd better wass it).

Now, then, s'all I make a tree Wid a birdie in it? All my picsurs you s'all see If you'll wait a minute.

No, I dess I'll make a man Juss like Uncle Rolly. See it tummin', fass's it tan? Bet my slate is jolly!

LITTLE POT SOON HOT.

FUME and fury! I have cause To tear about and break the laws.

But, on the whole, I'd better not; "Little pots are soon hot."

Little souls slights discover; Big souls pass 'em over.

Big souls bear their trouble; Little souls sizz and bubble.

Little souls oft ferment; Big souls are content.

Big souls tumble slowly; Little souls--roly poly!

Big souls, like as not, When it's fitting, _do_ get hot.

But "little pots" all grandeur spoil. I'll think a bit before I boil!

NELL'S NOTIONS.

THREE-YEAR-OLD Nell by the window-pane stood, A good little girl, and as pretty as good, Watching the snow come down-- Falling so lightly, So swiftly and brightly, It whitened all the town.

"See, Aunty!" she cried, in a joyous strain, "Oh, Aunty, look out! and see the popped rain! The air is as full as can be; And it never stops, But it jumps and hops, Like the corn that you pop for me."

Winter passed on; and Spring-time was here-- Spring with its flowers, its brightness and cheer, And the birds were wild with song. Ah, sweet was the note From each tiny throat! Nell listened the whole day long.

"Tell me, dear Aunty, what do they eat, These dear little birds, that they sing so sweet?" Nell asked, in her wonder and glee. "Oh, Aunty, _I_ think They have sky to drink, And flowers for their breakfast and tea."

The quick, green-winged katydids filled her with awe, Such wonderful creatures she'd ne'er seen before; For hours she would question and tease, Till, "They're leaves!" she said, "With legs and a head, And they're huntin' about for their trees.

"Why, Aunty, hold still! there's a girl in your eyes!" And queer little Nell fairly screamed with surprise. "Why, Aunty, it's Nell in there! I can see it as plain-- There! I see it again! Why, you're full of me everywhere!"

NEVER a night so dark and drear, Never a cruel wind so chill, But loving hearts can make it clear, And find some comfort in it still.

SNOW, snow, everywhere! Snow on frozen mountain peak, Snow on Flippit's sunny hair, Snow flakes melting on his cheek. Snow, snow, wherever you go, Shifting, drifting, driving snow.

But Flippit does not care a pin, It's Winter without and Summer within. So, tumble the flakes, or rattle the storm, He breathes on his fingers and keeps them warm.

SOME one we cannot hear, Some one we cannot see, Shakes the baby, Wakes the baby, Makes him laugh with glee.

A STRANGER IN THE PEW.

POOR little Bessie! She tossed back her curls, And, though she is often the sweetest of girls, This was something she couldn't and wouldn't endure; 'Twas the meanest, most impolite act, she was sure, And a thing, she declared, that _she_ never would do: To go to a church where one didn't belong, Then walk down the aisle like the best in the throng, And seat one's self plump in another one's pew.

Humph! Didn't her father own his out and out, And didn't they fill it up full, just about, When Mamma and Papa, and herself and the boys, Were seated? And didn't their boots make a noise In moving along to make room for a stranger? And wasn't it cool, with the brazenest face, To expect at each hymn Pa would find out the place (If Ben didn't, or Bob, but there wasn't much danger)?

With such feelings at heart, and their print on her face, Last Sunday our Bessie hitched out of her "place" To make room for a girl, very shabby and thin, Who had stood in the aisle till mamma asked her in. The poor little thing tried her best not to crowd And Bessie, forgetting, soon had the mishap To slip from her drowsiness into a nap, From which she soon wakened by crying aloud.

Poor Bessie sat upright, with cheeks all a-flame At sleeping in church, and trembled with shame; But 'twas strange at the close of the service to see Our Bessie, now gentle as gentle could be, Take the hand of the shabby young girl in the pew, And walk with her out of the church with a smile That shone through the tears in her eyes all the while, And brightened her face with a radiance new.

"Good-by," whispered Bessie at parting, "and mind Our pew's forty-five, with a pillar behind." Then she stole to her mother: "Oh, Mother, I dreamed Such a curious dream! 'Twas no wonder I screamed. I thought I was sitting in church in this dress, With a girl like a beggar-girl right in our pew-- We were sitting alone on the seat, just we two-- And I felt more ashamed than you ever could guess;

"When, all in a moment, the music grew loud, And on it came floating a beautiful crowd; They were angels, I knew, for they joined in the song, And all of them seemed in the church to belong. Slowly and brightly they sailed through the air; The rays from the window streamed crimson and blue, And lit them in turn as their forms glided through;-- I could feel their soft robes passing over my hair.

"One came to my side. Very sadly she said, 'There's a stranger in here.' I lifted my head, And looked at the poor shabby girl with disdain. 'Tis not she,' said the angel; 'the haughty and vain Are the strangers at church. She is humble and true.' Then I cried out aloud, and the minister spoke, And just as they floated away I awoke, And there sat that dear little girl in our pew!"

THE QUEEN O' MAY.

THE Queen o' May Held court one day,-- The fields had nought to give her; All in their best Her maids were drest, And they began to shiver.

"Now, never sneeze, But warm your knees, And look for daisies growing; You'll find the air Quite soft and fair, Unless it fall a-snowing."

"Quite soft!" they said, Each loyal maid. "So fair!" the boys went chaffing; But soon the May Came down that way, And set them all a-laughing.

PUSSY'S CLASS.

"NOW children," said Puss, as she shook her head, "It is time your morning lesson was said:" So her kittens drew near with footsteps slow, And sat down before her, all in a row.

"Attention, class!" said the cat-mamma, "And tell me quick where your noses are." At this all the kittens sniffed the air As though it were filled with a perfume rare.

"Now what do you say when you want a drink?" The kittens waited a moment to think, And then the answer came clear and loud-- You ought to have heard how those kittens meow'd!

"Very well. 'Tis the same, with a sharper tone, When you want a fish or a bit of bone. Now what do you say when children are good?" And the kittens purred as soft as they could.

"And what do you do when children are bad? When they tease and pull?" each kitty looked sad. "Pooh!" said their mother, "that isn't enough; You must use your claws when children are rough!"

"And where are your claws? no, no, my dear, (As she took up a paw) see! they're hidden here:" Then all the kittens crowded about To see their sharp little claws brought out.

They felt quite sure they never should need To use such weapons--oh, no, indeed! But their wise mamma gave a pussy's "_pshaw_!" And boxed their ears with her softest paw.

"Now 'Stpisss!' as hard as you can," she said-- But every kitten hung down its head-- "Stpisss! I say," cried the mother cat, But they said, "O mammy we can't do that!"

"Then go and play," said the fond mamma; "What sweet little idiots kittens are! Ah well, I was once the same, I suppose"-- And she looked very wise and rubbed her nose.

TWISTAN TURNEM, let me see, Which is the way to Tweedle-dee? Why, turn about the way you've come, And take the road to Tweedle-dum.

WANDERING JOE.

TELL me, O wandering Joe! How many miles did you go? Why, one to my mother's, And three to my brother's, And just half a dozen To hunt up a cousin; And half a mile yonder A hen-roost to plunder; And three half miles back To cover the track. Then a half and a half To water the calf, And a half and a quarter Before I found water; Add a quarter to that, When I chased a black bat; Then two to town, To see Jim Brown; And two, and none, And one for fun, And one for luck, And one for pluck; And one for trouble, And two for double; And then 'twas best To sit and rest. And now, my friend, says Joe, How many miles _did_ I go?

WHETHER fair, whether foul, Be it wet or dry, Cloudy time or shiny time The sun's in the sky. Gloomy-night, sparkle-night, Be it glad or dread, Cloudy time or shiny time, Stars are overhead.

THE RATS.

WHEN I'm sitting At my knitting After tea-- Deary me! Such commotion, Land o' Goshen! And it's all In the wall.

Rumble, tumble, Flurry, scurry. Now a rushing, And a crushing; Now a rattle, And a battle; Now a squeak And a fall

So I sit And I knit; And I ponder And wonder, And scarcely know how, In the racket and row, My wits to recall.

But the clatter, For that matter, And the rumble And tumble And scratching And catching Keep on Through it all.

Rats in dozens, With their cousins, Or in droves, With their loves: Now it's raps, Now it's taps, Or it's crunching, Or munching; Or a creak, Or a shriek; If I knew What to do, Or you'd show Where to go, I'd be off Like a streak.

But no, I must stay While they clamor away. Traps, cats, Sticks or rats-- Bane or gun, It's all one. No, it's fudge, They won't budge!

Rat are rats, Spite of cats And the rest. But--my star!-- Beginning or end Or middle, depend The things are a pest; And they're all In the wall, So they are!

IN THE WOOD.

"WHAT says the book, my lassie? What says the book to thee?" "It says the wood is beautiful, The blossoms fair to see; It says the brook tells merrily A little tale of glee, And birds, brimful of melody, Do sing their songs for me."

"Then close the page, my lassie, And lift thy pretty head, And what the book would say to thee The wood shall say instead. The brook shall tell its merry tale, The flowers their brightness shed, And the birds shall sing--for life is life, And printed words are dead.

"Hear what the bird sings, lassie: 'O little lady fair! The breath of flowers is over thee, The sunlight in thy hair; The heart of a little maiden Is free as birds in the air-- And God is good to thee and me, O little lady fair!'"

COMB MUSIC.

TWO children once sat in the twilight gray Playing a tune in a comical way; They both pressed a comb to their rosy red lips, And little they cared for tickles and slips, For wheezings, and paper that always would fall, For oh! such loud music, or no note at all. 'Twas sweet to their ears, as fondly they heard This musical strain coming forth, word for word: "_W-h-h-wome, w-h-h-wome, szzzeeet, zhhweet zome, Bheet wev zo hhumble, therzzz nho blazzze liew zhhome!_"

Now they are grown, and sing in the choir Of their own village church with the beautiful spire; So sweet are her notes, so perfect her skill, Not a bird of the air but might envy her trill, Not a wind of the night but right gladly would know How to make his rich music so plaintive and low.

Together their voices in harmony blend, And steep all their days in a joy without end; And yet in their hearts they have always confessed That lovely duet long ago was the best, When they tingled their lips at the musical comb, And told all the world there was "zno blaizzz liew zhome."

IN THE BASKET.

SAY, do you hear my basket Go "kippy! kippy! pe-ek"? Maybe my funny basket Is learning how to speak.

If you want to know the secret, Go ask the speckled hen, And tell her when I've warmed them I'll bring them back again.

COMING.

TWO fair ships are sailing, Sailing over the sea,-- Willie's ship and my ship-- Full as full can be; Side by side, my Willie says, Like as pin to pin. Oh, the happy, happy days When our ships come in! While our ships are sailing, Sailing over the sea,-- Willie's ship and my ship,-- Full as full can be, Sailing on the sunny tide, Grieving would be sin: Soon or late, and side by side, Shall our ships come in.

THE DAINTY MISS ROSE.

OH, a perfect nose, And dainty toes, And woolen hose, Had Miss Rose!

A dog was she of high degree, Born of an ancient family. From her mother's side Came her Spanish pride; She had royal ways, And her pedigree reckoned From the glorious days Of Charles the Second!

Well, she needed an escort To a party of some sort, One evening in May. And to see her bother 'Twixt one dog and t'other, Was good as a play.

Many pups came to say They would be at her service, But she sent them away With a manner quite nervous. In fact, I must own, Of dogs fully grown, She snubbed them by name As fast as they came: Sir Rover was coarse, And Ponto was cruel; Old Bounce was a horse, Young Pip lived on gruel; Spitz was a sneak, Fido was surly; Pomp was too sleek, Carlo too curly; Even elegant Pap, Who wore a gold collar, She said, with a snap, Wasn't worth a lead dollar.

Then came a brave wight For a desperate pull; He had been in a fight, Old Major de Bull. He was cross as a bear, And scanty of hair.

Also young Isle of Skye, Rather down at the heel; And the well-mannered Guy, Who was sour, but genteel.