JANE’S greatest pleasure and delight
Was putting others in a fright.
She loved to bounce and scream and climb,
She kept nurse nervous all the time.Her dear mamma was worried, too,
She never knew what Jane would do.One day she climbed up in a tree.
A very daring child was she.
Then she began to scream and call,
“Oh nurse, come quick! Oh! Oh! I’ll fall!”
Quickly her nurse came running out,
And anxiously she looked about.“Where are you, Jane? Where can you be?”
“Here I am, nurse, up in the tree.”Poor nurse was in a dreadful fright.
“Oh Jane!” she cried. “That is not right.”
“Come down! If your mamma should see
You know how worried she would be.”
Jane laughed aloud to see her fright,
She thought it such a funny sight.Now higher up the tree she went,
On nurse’s further torment bent.“Now look!” she cried. But as she spoke
The branch where she was standing broke,
And then—a fearful sight to see—
Down she came crashing through the tree.
Her nursie screamed so loud with fear
That all the neighborhood could hear.
But luckily, when half way down
A ragged branch caught Janie’s gown.
It stopped her fall, and held her there
Swinging and turning in the air.
Her nurse’s cries brought mother out,
And neighbors ran from all about.They talked and made a great to-do,
But how to reach her no one knew.“They have a ladder that’s so high
It almost reaches to the sky.”
Mamma cries, “Oh, for mercy’s sake
Be quick! Suppose the branch should break?”Now clang! clang! clang! the fire-bells go.
People are running to and fro,And down the street—ah only see!
There comes the fire company.“Quick! Get the ladder up!” “Look out!”
“Be careful there what you’re about.”
Now up, up, up, the ladder goes.
It’s up as high as Janie’s toes.
Up further still; it’s resting now
Its topmost rung against a bough.
Then quick a fireman, strong and brown
Runs up and lifts the poor child down.
And listen how the anxious crowd
That has been watching shouts aloud.
No need for any more alarms.
He’s placed her in her mother’s arms.
“Oh dear! I’ll never try,” sobs Jane
“To frighten any one again.”
THE SWEET TOOTH
Alas poor Fred! So fat is he,
Only a pig could fatter be.
THE SWEET TOOTH
A SWEET-TOOTH was our Frederick.
He scorned the bread and meat
And all the other wholesome things
That children ought to eat.
He ate the sugar from the bowl;
He fed on cakes and pies,
The very sight of lollipops
Brought water to his eyes.
He grew too fat to play about,
Too fat to run or jump,
On either side his arms stuck out
Like handles of a pump.
It grieved his kind mamma to see
How fat and fatter grew
Her little Fred, in spite of all
That she could say or do.
One day, with pennies in his hand
He set out for a shop,
To buy himself some sugar-cakes
Or tart or lollipop.
But oh the day was very hot,
The sun a fiery ball,
And soon the heat made Fred so soft
He scarce could walk at all.
“Oh dear, oh dear! I feel so queer;
What’s happening?” cried he.
“If I should melt in all this heat
How dreadful it would be!”
It is a sorry tale to tell,
But greedy ones take heed!
Fred’s arms and legs and all of him
Were melting down indeed.
They melted till you scarce could tell
Fred was a boy at all,
For now he looked all smooth and round
As though he were a ball.
That afternoon the girls and boys
Came running out to play,
And wondering they gathered round
The place where Frederick lay.
“Oh what a great enormous ball!
”Let’s play with it,“ they cried;
And then they rolled and pushed poor Fred
About from side to side.
Hither and yon, in giddy round
The wretched Frederick sped,
And sometimes he was on his heels,
And sometimes on his head.
At supper time the mothers called,
“Now put your ball away.
To-morrow you can get it out
And have another play.”
Ah Frederick, poor Frederick!
Though he lay quiet now
He could not even lift his hand
To wipe his heated brow,
And now each day they came to play
With Fred, until at last
His fat began to wear away
They rolled him round so fast.
The disappointed children said,
“Someone has spoiled our ball.
It’s growing such a funny shape
It scarcely rolls at all.”
One time when they had stopped to rest
Fred’s little brother said,
“It’s queer, but don’t you think our ball
Looks very much like Fred?”
“Why it is Fred,” his sister cried.
“I know his eyes and nose.
And only see! Those are his hands,
And down there are his toes.”
They called his mother out to see.
With eager steps she came,
At once she knew her Frederick,
And called him by his name.
And now he found that he could turn,
That he could move and rise.
He stood before his mother
With shamed and tearful eyes.
“Oh, mother, mother, dear, I’ve had
A dreadful time!” cried he,
“But now that I’m a boy again
Less greedy I will be.”
VAIN LITTLE LUCY
Her godmamma once sent to her
A frock of ruffled lace.
VAIN LITTLE LUCY
MISS LUCY was a pretty child,
But vain as she could be,
She loved all sorts of furbelows,
And frills and finery.
Her godmamma once sent to her
A frock of ruffed lace,
A flowered hat, and parasol
With which to shade her face.
And in the box was also packed
A pair of pink kid shoes.
“Oh dear!” her mother sighed; “they all
Are quite too fine to use.”
But Lucy cried, “Oh mother, no!
I’m sure they’re what I need.
When I am dressed and walking out
I will look fine indeed.”
And then she begged to put them on,
And with a peacock pride
She stood before the looking-glass
And turned from side to side.
“May I go out and show them off?”
Cried Lucy eagerly.
“How all the little girls will stare!
And how they’ll envy me!”
“Why Lucy! What a way to speak!”
Her loving mother cried.
“I am surprised my child should show
Such vain and silly pride.”
“Now go put on your calico,
And run outdoors and play.
These things were meant for special times,
And not for every day.”
But Lucy has another plan.
She sulks, and hangs about,
Till later in the afternoon,
When her mamma goes out.
Then quick she dresses up again
In all her frills and lace,
And out she runs, to trip along
With air of dainty grace.
She walked with such a haughty air,
She held her head so high,
The other children scarcely dared
To speak as she passed by.
But even as, with scornful air,
She minced along the street,
There came a sudden rushing wind
That swept her from her feet.
It caught her by her parasol,
It caught her by her frills,
It swept her up into the sky,
And off across the hills.
No knowing where she would have gone,
Still driven by the blast,
But luckily a branching tree
Has caught her skirts at last.
It catches her and holds to her,—
It will not let her go;
Whatever will become of her
Poor Lucy does not know.
In vain she twists herself about
And strives with all her might.
“Oh, dear kind tree,” she says to it,
“Don’t hold me quite so tight.”
The tree replies, “My branches
Shall quickly set you free
If you’ll give me your parasol
To wear as finery.”
“Oh, take it, do,” cries Lucy.
“I do not care at all,
If you will only set me free;
But do not let me fall.”
So now the twigs and branches
Bend back to let her go,
And safely Lucy clambers down
Into the field below.
Now Lucy looks about her
With frightened, tearful eyes.
“Oh dear, oh dear, I’m lost I fear!
What shall I do!” she cries.
High overhead a raven
Is sitting in the tree,
“I know the way you ought to go.”
Cries Lucy, “Tell it me!”
“Oh it is not for nothing
I tell the things I know,
But if you’ll let me have your hat
I’ll tell you how to go.”
“Alas, I meant to keep it,
And wear it for my best.
But take it,” cries poor Lucy.
“’Twill make a pretty nest.”
Now with his wing the raven points,
“There yonder lies your way.”
And off Miss Lucy runs in haste.
She does not stop nor stay.
But see! across the pathway
A thorn tree towers high.
Its thorns will surely catch her
Before she can go by.
“Oh prickly, stickly thorn-tree,
That stands to bar the way,
Draw back your boughs,” cries Lucy,
“And let me pass, I pray.”
The thorn replies, “My blossoms
Have dropped and left me bare,
I’ll let you pass if I may have
That little frock you wear.”
“Here take my frock,” cries Lucy,
And gives it to the tree,
Then quick it draws aside its thorns
And leaves the pathway free.
Now on again runs Lucy.
Indeed she is in haste.
If she would reach her home by dark
She has no time to waste.
And now she sees a river,
It flows so deep and wide
There seems no way for Lucy
To reach the other side.
But look! A duck is sailing
Upon the flowing tide,
His legs are strong for swimming,
His back is flat and wide.
“Oh pretty duck,” cries Lucy,
“Come here, come here to me.
If you will carry me across
How thankful I will be.”
“In winter time,” replies the duck,
“My toes get nipped with frost.
If you will give your shoes to me
I’ll carry you across.”
“Here! Take them quick,” cries Lucy.
“Indeed I do not care!
I have a stouter pair at home,
And they will do to wear.”
And now see little Lucy
On ducky’s back astride,
As steadily he swims across
Unto the other side.
Now on she runs—she reaches home—
In through the door she creeps,
“Oh mother dear, I’m back again,”
With joyful tears she weeps.
Now Lucy’s grown more sensible,
She’s quite content when dressed
In just the plain and simple things
That mother thinks are best.
THE MAGIC MAN
Be careful, children, lest some day
The Magic Man should come your way.
’TIS very naughty for a child
To try to hang about
And overhear what people say,
And find their secrets out.
Our James was such a child as that.
He loved to overhear
The very things he knew were not
Intended for his ear.
The older people often said,
“Now James, please run away.
You’re always, always hanging round
To hear what we may say.”
Once mother asked some ladies in
To drink a cup of tea,
And nurse said, “James, don’t go downstairs;
Come in the room with me.”
“I want to hear them talk,” said James.
“I like to listen, too.”
“But that’s exactly what mamma
Has told you not to do.”
“I’ll stay here, anyway,” said James,
And sat down on the stair,
And when nurse found he would not move
She went and left him there.
“And now she’s gone, I’ll creep downstairs
Into the hall,” thought he,
“And listen at the parlor door,
I’m sure no one will see.”
But James had hardly risen up
Before, all silently,
Some one came stealing down the hall
As soft as soft could be.
And then James felt that somebody
Had caught him by each ear,
“Ho!” cried a voice, “so you’re the boy
Who always wants to hear.”
Quite suddenly he felt his ears
Begin to stretch and spread.
Until, like any elephant’s
They stood out from his head.