Page 38—Boy Land


That Nice Boy

"Nice child—very nice child," observed an old gentleman, crossing to the other side of the car and addressing the mother of the boy who had just hit him in the eye with a wad of paper. "How old are you, my son?"

"None of your business," replied the youngster, taking aim at another passenger.

"Fine boy," smiled the old man, as the parent regarded her offspring with pride. "A remarkably fine boy. What is your name, my son?"

"Puddin' Tame!" shouted the youngster, with a giggle at his own wit.

"I thought so," continued the old man, pleasantly. "If you had given me three guesses at it, that would have been the first one I would have struck on. Now, Puddin', you can blow those things pretty straight, can't you?"

"You bet!" squealed the boy, delighted at the compliment. "See me take that old fellow over there!"

"No, no!" exclaimed the old gentleman, hastily. "Try it on the old woman I was sitting with. She has boys of her own, and she won't mind."

"Can't you hit the lady for the gentleman, Johnny?" asked the fond parent.

Johnny cleverly landed the pellet on the end of the old woman's nose.

But she did mind it, and rising in her wrath soared down on the small boy like a hawk. She put him over the line, reversed him, ran him backwards, till he didn't know which end of him was front, and finally dropped him into the lap of the scared mother, with a benediction whereof the purport was that she'd be back in a moment to skin him alive.

"She didn't seem to like it, Puddin'," smiled the old gentleman, softly. "She's a perfect stranger to me; but I understand she is the matron of an Orphans' Home, and I thought she would like a little fun; but I was mistaken."

And the old man smiled sweetly as he went back to his seat. He was sorry for the poor little boy, but he couldn't help it.


A Wicked Boy

Of all the small boys in our town
  That Jones boy was the worst,
And if the "bad man" came around
  He'd take that Jones boy first.

One day he slipped away from home
  And went out for a skate
Down on a deep and dangerous pond
  Beyond the garden gate.

His mother missed him after a while,
  And thought he'd gone to skate;
And running to the fatal pond,
  She found she was too late.

For there, upon the cruel ice,
  Beyond an air-hole wide,
She saw his pretty little hat,
  And a mitten by it's side.

He was her boy, and all the love
  That fills a mother's heart
Came forth in tears and sobs and moans
  Beyond the strength of art.

She called the neighbours quick to come,
  They scraped along the ground;
Beneath the water and the ice—
  The boy could no be found.

At last their search was given up
  Until a thaw should come;
The mother's sobs began afresh,
  Her sorrow was not dumb.

They turned to leave the fatal pool,
  A voice came clear and free—
"Hallo! If you want Frankie Jones,
  You'll find him up this tree."

And so it was—the mother's tears
  Were changed to smiles of joy;
But gracious heaven, how she spanked
  Her darling, fair-haired boy!

                L'Envoi


Cooley's Boy

The boy not only preys on my melon-patch and fruit trees, and upon those of my neighbours, but he has an extraordinary aptitude for creating a disturbance in whatever spot he happens to be. Only last Sunday he caused such a terrible commotion in church that the services had to be suspended for several minutes until he could be removed. The interior of the edifice was painted and varnished recently, and I suppose one of the workers must have left a clot of varnish upon the back of Cooley's pew, which is directly across the aisle from mine. Cooley's boy was the only representative of the family at church upon that day, and he amused himself during the earlier portions of the service by kneeling upon the seat and communing with Dr. Jones' boy, who occupied the pew immediately in the rear. Sometimes, when young Cooley would resume a proper position, Jones's boy would stir him up afresh by slyly pulling his hair, whereupon Cooley would wheel about and menace Jones with his fist in a manner which betrayed utter indifference to the proprieties of the place and the occasion, as well as the presence of the congregation. When Cooley finally sank into a condition of repose, he placed his head, most unfortunately, directly against the lump of undried varnish, while he amused himself by reading the commandments and the other scriptural texts upon the wall behind the pulpit.

In a few moments he attempted to move, but the varnish had mingled with his hair, and it held him securely. After making one or two desperate but ineffectual efforts to release himself, he became very angry; and supposing that Jones's boy was holding him, he shouted:

  "Leg go o' my hair! Leg go o' my hair, I tell you!"

The clergyman paused just as he was entering upon consideration of "secondly," and the congregation looked around in amazement, in time to perceive young Cooley, with his head against the back of the pew, aiming dreadful blows over his shoulder with his fist at some unseen person behind him. And with every thrust he exclaimed:

  "I'll smash yer nose after church! I'll go for you, Bill Jones, when I ketch you alone! Leg go o' my hair, I tell you, or I'll knock the stuffin' out o' yer," etc, etc.

Meanwhile, Jones's boy sat up at the very end of his pew, far away from Cooley, and looked as solemn as if the sermon had made a deep impression upon him.

                Max Adeler


Three White Boys Dressed in Sunday Best.


Three Black Boys Dressed in Sunday Best.



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Page 39—Boy Land


Jack The Glutton

"Do look at those pigs, as they lay in the straw,"
  Little Richard said to his papa;
"They keep eating longer than ever I saw,
  What nasty fat gluttons they are!"

"I see they are feasting" his father replied,
  "They eat a great deal I allow;
But let us remember, before we deride,
  'Tis the nature, my dear, of a sow.

"But when a great boy, such as you, my dear Dick,
  Does nothing but eat all day
And keeps sucking things till he makes himself sick,
  What a glutton! indeed, we may say.

"When plumcake and sugar forever he picks,
  And sweetmeats, and comfits, and figs;
Pray let him get rid of his own nasty tricks,
  And then he may laugh at the pigs."


Tom the Dainty Boy

Never be dainty and throw food away;
'Tis sinful, as you must have heard many say;
Besides, you yourself may require food some day,
    Though well fed.

So don't smell your plate and turn over your food,
And doubt if it's wholesome, or pleasant, or good;
Such conduct is not only senseless,—but rude
    And ill-bred.

There was a young boy, who so dainty became,
That whether his dinner was fish, flesh or game,
He turned up his nose at them all, just the same,
    And would cry,

"I cannot eat this,"—and, "I do not like that;"—
"This chicken's too lean,"—and "That mutton's too fat;
The dog he may eat it up all, or the cat,
    But not I.

The consequence was that he soon became thin;
His bones they stuck out, and his cheeks they sunk in,
And his hands were not stronger nor thicker than tin,
    If so strong.

And his legs grew as slender as little hat-pegs,
And almost as small was his waist as his legs;
And he looked like the laths that are fastened round kegs,
    Thin and long.

And thinner, and thinner, and thinner he grew,
A shadow had been rather fat, of the two;
In fact, you might easily look him right through,
    If you tried.

And when he was quite the skeleton grown,
As weak as a reed, and as cold as a stone
He fell all to pieces, and with a faint groan,
    So he died.


Boy that robbed the Bird's nest

"To-whit! To-whit! To-whee!
Will you listen to me?
Who stole four eggs I laid,
And the nice nest I made?"

"Not I," said the cow. "Oh, no;
Such a thing I'd never do;
I gave you a wisp of hay,
But didn't take your nest away."

"Coo, coo! said the dove,
I'll speak a word my love;
Who stole that pretty nest
From a little red-breast?"

"Not I," said the sheep. "Oh, no.
I wouldn't treat a poor bird so;
I gave wool the nest to line,
But the nest was none of mine."


Boy Carried Away By Crows.


"Caw! Caw!" cried the crow,
"I should like to know
What thief took away
A bird's nest to-day."

"Cluck! Cluck!" said the hen,
Don't ask me again!
Why I hav'nt a chick
Would do such a trick.

We all gave her a feather,
And she wove them together;
I'd scorn to intrude
On her and her brood."

"Chirr-a-whirr! Chirr-a-whirr!
We will make a great stir;
Let us find out his name,
And all cry for shame!"

"I would not rob a bird,"
Said little Mary Green;
"I think I never heard
Of anything so mean."

"'Tis very cruel too,"
Said little Alice Neil:
"I wonder if he knew
How sad the bird would feel?"

A little boy hung down his head,
And hid his face, so crimson red;
For he stole that pretty nest
From little robin redbreast;
And he felt so full of shame,
I do not like to tell his name.

But during next week
Dressed in his Sunday best
This boy set out to seek
All for another nest.

He robbed a nest up high,
Suspended in a tree;
Two birds came through the sky,
What happened you can see.


Cruel Boy

What! go to see the kittens drowned
  On purpose in the yard!
I did not think there could be found
  A little heart so hard.

Poor kittens! No more pretty play
  With pussy's wagging tail:
Why! I'd go far enough away
  Before I'd see the pail.

Poor things! the little child that can
  Be pleased to go and see,
Most likely, when he grows a man,
  A cruel man will be.

And many a wicked thing he'll do
  Because his heart is hard:
A great deal worse than killing you,
  Poor kittens in the yard.


Tyrannical Pat

What became of tyrannical Pat,
  Who pelted the dog, and beat the cat,
Why, puss scratched his face and tore his hat;
  And Dash knocked him over as flat as a mat.
    Mind that!


The little boy who bit his Nails

See here a naughty boy, John Thales,
  Who had a shocking way
Of picking at his finger nails,
  And biting them all day.
And though he had, like other boys,
  Both soldiers, kites and drums,
He liked, much better than these toys,
  His fingers and his thumbs.


Boy who tore his Hat

Above on a chair, a little boy sat,
For he had torn his nice new hat;
And so was punished for doing that.


Thief Charley

Charley, Charley, stole the barley
  Out of the baker's shop;
The baker came out, and gave him a clout,
  And made that Charley hop.



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Page 40—Whipping Machine


Snooks' Patent Whipping Machine.

Snook's Patent Whipping Machine for Flogging Naughty Boys in School
 "The Snooks' Whipping Machine has proved a total failure."—"Times."


Declaration of a Distracted Schoolmaster.

A year a go I took charge of a school of 1000 boys. They were a very bad lot indeed, and I could do nothing with them. Being of a mild disposition, I attempted to reason with them; but I might as well have reasoned with the pigs. I then thought of punishing them, but that was a big task, and, besides, what mode of punishment should I adopt? In my utmost perplexity I wrote to Professor Wilderspin—a great authority on the management of boys—and he wrote as follows:

"Nearly all boys can be managed by an intelligent schoolmaster
without punishment, but in a few cases it seems impossible to do
without it. In every large school in England, Ireland, and Scotland
some corporal punishment is used, and some must continue to be used
as long as very vicious children continue to exist, or as long as
parents spoil their children by over indulgence or by wilful
criminal neglect before they send them to school.—Yours truly,
Professor Wilderspin."

I then wrote to twenty-seven of the principal headmasters in the world, and the following are the replies:—

From the High School of Eton wrote head-master, Mr. Squeers:
"If they don't behave as they should do, why, soundly box their ears."
From the Grammar School of Harrow wrote head-master, Mr. Phfool:
"If they do not behave themselves, expel them from the school."
From the Training School of Rugby wrote head-master, Mr Wist:
"Just take a handful of their hair, and give a sharp, short twist."
From the College School of Oxford wrote Professor Rarey Hook:
"Instead of nearly killing, overawe them with a look."
From the Bible School of Cambridge wrote Professor William Brying:
"Well whip them with a birchen rod, and never mind their crying."
From the Blue Coat School of London wrote Professor Rupert Gower:
"At arm's length make them hold a book the space of half-an-hour."
From the Naval School of Liverpool wrote head-master Mr. Jointer:
"Just rap them on the knuckles with a common teacher's pointer."
From the People's School of Manchester wrote head-master Mr. Flowers:
"Make them kneel down as still as death for just about two hours."
From the Infant School of Birmingham wrote Professor Dory Heller:
"Just put on them a fool's cap, marked 'dunce,' 'thief,' or 'story-teller'."
From the Charity school of Sheffield wrote head-master, Mr. Clay:
"If the boys are disobedient, do not let them out to play."
From the Gentleman's School at Brighton wrote Professor Robert Flask:
"If the boys will act unruly, why, just make them do a task."
From the National School of Bristol wrote Professor Mark Groom:
"If the boys are extra naughty, shut them in a dark room."
From the District School of Edenburgh wrote head-master, Mr. Glass:
"The naughty boys should all be sent to the bottom of the class."
From the Mixed School of Glasgow wrote Professor Duncan Law:
"To keep a proper kind of school, just use the three-tailed taw."
From the Latin School of Dublin wrote Professor Patrick Clayrence:
"If the boys are very bad boys, write a letter to their parents."
From the Mission School, Calcutta, wrote the Rev. Mr. Mac Look:
"Try them by a boy jury, write the verdict in a black-book."
From the Lyceum of New York wrote Professor Henry Bothing:
"Take your delinquent boys one hour and make them sit on nothing."
From the Public School, Chicago, wrote head-master, Mr. Norrids:
"If they will not behave themselves, why, just you slap their foreheads."
From, the Academy of San Francisco wrote head-master, Mr. Power:
"Make them stoop and hold their fingers on the floor for just an hour."
From the Mormon School of Utah wrote Professor Orson Pratt:
"First strip and make them fast, and then just use the little cat."
From the King's College, Lisbon, wrote Professor Don Cassiers:
"If you want to make them good boys, pull, pinch, and twist their ears."
From the Cadet's School of Paris wrote Professor Monsieur Sour:
"Just make them hold their hands above their heads for one full hour."
From the Royal School of Amsterdam wrote Professor Vander Tooler:
"If they will not behave themselves, just trounce them with a ruler."
From the Model School of Pekin wrote Professor Cha Han Coo:
"Just put their hands into the stocks and beat with a bamboo."
From the Normal School of Moscow wrote Professor Ivan Troute:
"To make your boys the best of boys, why, just use the knout."
From the Muslim School of Cairo wrote the Mufti, Pasha Saido:
"Upon the bare soles of their feet give them the bastinado."
From the Common School of Berlin wrote Professor Von de Rind:
"There's nothing like the old, old way that ever could I find;
Just lay them right across your knee and cane them well behind.
I've only just been speaking mit mine goot frien', Doctor Whistim,
And he says that it does no harm, but is felt throughout the system."
At last, as I was thinking deep how puzzling all this looks,
I received a tempting offer from a certain Mr. Snooks.
His "great machine to whip with speed" I brought with flusteration,
But to see just how it did succeed you view the illustration.


And then look at "Professor Cole's Gentle Persuader." next page.



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Page 41—Whipping Machine


Cole's Patent Whipping Machine.

Cole's Patent Whipping Machine for Flogging Naughty Boys in School


Testimonial from a Schoolmaster
(To Mr. Cole, Book Arcade, Melbourne)

  SIR—Your Patent Flogger is a "keen"
  Success as a labor-saving machine;
  'Twill yet be held in great esteem,
  Already 'tis the Poet's theme;
  It's the greatest patent that's ever been
  In or out of a schoolroom seen;
  And as you have got it to go by steam,
  School-life will now be all serene.

I have not had a bad boy remaining now, but before I used your machine they used to be a frightful lot of young scamps. For instance, in my school of 1000, the first day the machine was introduced, 741 were punished for various misdeeds, and 103 for single offences, were flogged as follows:—

  John Hawking, for talking
  William Winning, for grinning
  George Highing, for crying
  Edward Daring, for swearing
  Henry Wheeling, for stealing
  Peter Bitting, for spitting
  Robert Hocking, for smoking
  Frederick Mention, for inattention
  Joseph Footing, for pea-shooting
  Luke Jones, for throwing stones
  Matthew Sauter, for squirting water
  Nicholas Storms, for upsetting forms
  Reuben Wrens, for spoiling pens
  Samuel Jinks, for spilling ink
  Simon McLeod, for laughing aloud
  Timothy Stacies, for making faces
  Victor Bloomers, for taking lunars
  Vincent James, for calling names
  Caleb Hales, for telling tales
  Daniel Padley, for writing badly
  David Jessons, for cribbing lessons
  Edmond Gate, for coming late
  Ezra Lopen, for leaving the door open
  Edwin Druent, for playing the truant
  Charles Case, for leaving his place
  Ernest Jewell, for eating during school
  Coo Ah Hi, for using a shanghai
  Francis Berindo, for breaking a window
  Harold Tate, for breaking his slate
  Isaac Joys, for making noise
  Jacob Crook, for tearing his book
  Christopher Moyes, for teasing other boys
  Elisha Sewell, for bolting from school
  Conrad Draper, for throwing chewed paper
  Ebenezer Good, for telling a falsehood
  Felix Snooks, for coming without books
  Cyril Froude, for speaking too loud
  Elijah Rowe, for speaking too low
  Gregory Meek, for refusing to speak
  Hannibal Hartz, for throwing paper darts
  Horace Poole, for whistling in school
  Hubert Shore, for slamming the door
  Jesse Blane, for hiding the cane
  Jonah Platts, for hiding boys' hats
  Aaron Esk, for cutting the desk
  Abner Rule, for sleeping in school
  Adam Street, for changing his seat
  Albert Mayne, for splitting the teacher's cane
  Alexander Tressons, for reading during other lessons
  Alfred Hoole, for eating lollies in school
  Ambrose Hooke, for blotting his copy-book
  Amos Blair, for not combing his hair
  Andrew Grace, for not washing his face
  Anthony Sands, for not washing his hands
  Arnold Cootz, for coming in with dirty boots
  Benjamin Guess, for coming with untidy dress
  Clarence Hyneman, for annoying a stray Chinaman
  Michael McToole, for bringing stones to school
  Cuthbert Flindow, for climbing through the window
  Edgar Gasking, for going without asking
  Eric Grout, for kicking boys' hats about
  Enoch McKay, for pinching the next boy
  Gabriel Cook, for tearing a boy's book
  Hyram Pope, for pulling the bell rope
  Humphrey Proof, for getting on the roof
  Jonah Earls, for chasing school-girls
  Jonathan Spence, for climbing over the fence
  Phillip Cannister, for sliding down the bannister
  Lambert Hesk, for sliding on a desk
  Lawrence Storm, for standing on a form
  Lazarus Beet, for stamping with his feet
  Leopold Bate, for swinging on the gate
  Lewis Lesks, for kicking legs of desks
  Mark Vine, for overstepping the toe-line
  Nathan Corder, for not marching in order
  Norman Hall, for scribbling on the wall
  James Mace, for hitting a boy in the face
  Thomas Sayers, for pushing boys down the stairs
  Oswald Hook, for losing a school-book
  Ralph Chesson, for not knowing his lesson
  Sampson Skinner, for eating another boy's dinner
  Solomon Brook, for scribbling in his book
  Stephen Platt, for chasing the master's cat
  Neal M'Kimney, dropping a brick down the chimney
  Theodore Le Soof, for throwing stones on the roof
  Valentine Rapp, for turning on the water-tap
  Walter Hope, for climbing up the bell-rope
  Joshua Gail, for catching flies on the wall
  Raymond Esk, for sticking pins in the desk
  Julian State, for drawing pictures on his slate
  Gerald Astor, for being impudent to the master
  Augustus Roff, for not taking his hat off
  Rupert Keats, for fixing pens in boys' seats
  Maurice Took, for having a dirty copybook
  Esau Klaster, for drawing caricatures of the master
  Paul Bhool, for letting a bird loose in school
  Jabez Breeding, for not knowing the place at reading
  Levi Stout, for stopping too long when let out
  Guy M'Gill, sharpening a knife on the window-sill
  Duncan Heather, pinning two boys' coat-tails together
  Ezekiel Black, pinning paper on another boy's back
  Patrick O'Toole, for bursting a paper-bag in school
  Eli Teet, for putting cobbler's wax on master's seat



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Page 42—Dolly Land


Girl Showing Dolly to Polly.


My Lady Doll

My Lady-doll is pretty,
  My Lady-doll is sweet;
I like to show my Lady-doll
  To every one I meet


My Sweet Dolly Rose

  O sweet, so sweet,
  Is my Dolly Rose!
  Just all that I know
  My Dolly knows;
  And when I am glad
  The darling is glad
  And when I am sad
  The darling is sad.
  How dear she is,
  O, nobody knows,
  No, no, not even
  My precious Rose


Polly's Dolly

Shining eyes, very blue,
  Opened very wide;
Yellow curls, very stiff,
  Hanging side by side;
Chubby cheeks, very pink,
  Lips red as holly;
No ears, and only thumbs—
  That's Polly's Dolly.


Pretty Doll

Oh dear! what a beautiful doll
  My sister has bought at the fair
She says I must call it Miss Poll,
  And make it a bonnet to wear.

Oh pretty new doll, it looks fine!
  It's cheeks are all covered with red.
But pray will it always be mine?
  And please may I take it to bed?

How kind was my sister to buy
  This dolly with hair that will curl;
Perhaps, if you want to know why,
  It's because I've been a good girl.

        POEMS FOR CHILDREN


Puss with Doll.


Puss's Doll

Now Puss had a doll
  That Dame Trot bought to please her,
And gave it the beautiful
  Name of Louisa
And when Kitty was lonesome
  Or wanted to play,
She'd cry for Loo! Loo!
  In a comical way.

The dolly was petted,
  Was kissed and caressed,
Though often quite roughly
  It must be confessed
And so pleased was Miss Puss
  With Louisa's fair charms,
She took her cat's meat,
  With the doll in her arms


Pussy and Doggy Fighting for Dolly.


Pussy and Doggy Fighting for Dolly

And once, I remember,
  Oh, sad was the day,
The cat answered back
  In an impudent way.
And tray was so jealous,
  The two had a fight,
And between them the doll
  Was a terrible fright



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Page 43—Dolly Land


Dolly Tumbled out of Bed.


Dolly Tumbled out of Bed

'Tis very well to smile—now,
  But you gave me such a fright,
When I missed you, darling Dolly,
  In the middle of the night.

I thought we played together,
  And you fell into a stream;
Yet I said—just half awaking—
  "'Tis nothing but a dream.

"For safe upon my pillow
  Lies her curly golden hair,"
Then I reached my hand to touch you,
  But I couldn't find you there.

I felt so sad and lonely
  That I cried, but all in vain;
So to see if I could find you,
  I went off to sleep again.

Now, fancy! in the morning
  There you were, all safe and right;
And nurse said, "Here's poor Dolly,
  Been upon the floor all night!"

Your pretty curls are tangled,
  They were so nice and smooth before;
So promise, Dolly darling,
  You will tumble out no more!


Dolly and I

I love my dear dolly;
  I'll tell you her name,
I called her "Sweet Polly"
  The day that she came.

My Uncle John brought her
  From over the sea;
And no one shall part us,
  My dolly and me.

She has cheeks like red roses,
  And eyes blue and bright,
That open with daylight,
  And close with the night.

She cries, and says, "Mam-ma,
  Mam-mam-ma," so well,
That it is not a baby
  You scarcely can tell.

You know, I'm her own ma;
  A small one, you'll say,
But just right for dolly,
  Who wants nought but play.

No teaching, no training,
  Few clothes and no food;
And I like being her ma,
  Because she's so good.


Dolly's Broken Arm

Mamma, do send for Doctor Man,
  And tell him to be quick,
My dolly fell and broke her arm,
  So she is very sick.

I thought that she was fast asleep,
  And laid her on her bed,
But down she dropped upon the floor;
  O dear! she's almost dead!

Poor dolly! she was just as brave,
  And did not cry at all;
Do you suppose she ever can
  Get over such a fall?

But when the doctor mends her arm,
  And wraps it up so tight,
Then I will be her little nurse,
  And watch her all the night.

And if she only will get well,
  And does not lose her arm,
I'll never let her fall again,
  Nor suffer any harm.


Little Polly

Little Polly,
Had a dolly,
  With a curly wig;
And Miss Polly
And her dolly,
  Often danced a jig.

Also Polly
had a collie,
  A fine dog was he;
Blithe and jolly,
Jumped round Polly,
 Barking loud with glee.

One day Polly
Knocked her dolly,
  Broke its pretty head.
"Oh, fie, Polly!
Don't hurt dolly,"
  Said her brother Ned.

Then did Polly
Take up Dolly,
  Throw it on the floor.
Said Miss Polly,
In her folly
  "I will play no more."

Up ran collie,
Seized poor dolly,
  Ran off to a friend.
Friend helped collie
To tear up dolly—
  That was poor dolly's end.


Reading Dolly Land.


Two Dollies Getting Up.



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Page 44—Dolly Land


Girl with Dolly.


A Little Girl's Song to Her Dolly

Lie down, little Dolly.
  Lie still on my lap,
It's time now to put on
  Your night dress and cap;
You have not been to sleep
  All through this long day
Oh, what a long time
  For a Dolly to play!

The bright sun went down
  More than two hours ago;
It is long past your bedtime,
  You very well know:
The stars are now peeping
  From out the blue skies;
Then go to sleep, Dolly!
  Come, shut your blue eyes.

Mamma says the flowers
  Were asleep long ago—
Sweet roses and lilies,
  Their heads bending low;
She says 'tis a lesson
  For me and for you—
That children and dollies
  Should be asleep too.

Hark! Susan is calling—
  Now out goes the light;
I will tug you up snugly,
  And kiss you good night.
It is time you were sleeping
 For do you not know
The dear little birds
  Went to sleep long ago?


Don't Cry My Dolly

Hushy, baby, my dolly,
  I pray you don't cry,
And I'll give you some bread
  And some milk by and by;
Or perhaps you like custard,
  Or maybe a tart,—
Then to either you're welcome,
  With all my whole heart.


The Little Girl and Her Doll

There, got to sleep, Dolly,
  In own mother's lap,
I've put on your nightgown
  And neat little cap.
So sleep, pretty baby,
  And shut up your eye,
Bye-bye, little Dolly,
  Lie still, and bye-bye.
I'll lay my clean handkerchief
  Over your head,
And then make believe
  That my lap is your bed;
So hush, little dear,
  And be sure you don't cry.
Bye-bye, little Dolly,
  Lie still, and bye-bye.

There, now it is morning
  And time to get up,
And I'll give you some milk
  In my doll's china cup.
So wake up, little baby
  And open your eye,
For I think it high time
  To have done with bye-bye.

                Jane Taylor


Sleep, Dolly Sleep

Sleep, Dolly, sleep.
You must not, must not weep.
Now close your eyes so brown,
And let me lay you down.
  Sleep, Dolly, sleep.
Wake, Dolly, wake,
Too long a nap you take;
It's time to make the tea,
And you must help, you see.
  Wake, Dolly, wake.
Run, Dolly, run,
Run out in golden sun;
Run up the hill with me,
And then to the apple-tree.
  Run, Dolly, run.

                Mrs Hibbert


My Dolly

Shut your eyes, my darling!
  When the shadows creep,
When the flowers are closing
  Little ones must sleep.

Don't be frightened, Dolly!
  In my arms you lie;
Nestle down and slumber
  To my lullaby

Dolly is so active,
  Always full of fun,
Wakeful still and smiling
  E'en when day is done

Hush thee now, my dearest,
  To my slumber-song;
Children lose their roses,
  Sitting up too long.


My Dolly

I must go home to dolly,
  And put her to bed;
I know she's so tired,
  She can't raise her head.

Some dolls are so old,
  They can sit up till eight,
But mine gets quite ill
  If she stays up so late!


Dolly's Asleep

Tell me a story
  Just one, mother dear.
Candles are coming
  Bedtime is near
There is my hand to hold
  Bend down your head,
Don't speak too loud, mother,
  Dolly's in bed

No! not the story
  Of old Jack and Jill
They were so stupid
  To tumble down the hill.
I'm tired of Jack Horner
  And Little Bo-peep.—
Stay! let me see
  If Dolly's asleep.

Hush, Dolly darling!
  I'm watching, you know
No one shall hurt you;
  I will not go.
You are so warm,—
  Like a bird in it's nest.
Go to sleep, darling,—
  Rest, Dolly, rest.

Ah! there is Mary
  Just come in with a light:
Now there is no time
  For a story to-night,
Please make the boys, mother,
 Mind how they tread.
Their boots are so heavy,
  And—Dolly's in bed.

Good night, dear mother!
  Ask papa, please,
When he comes home,
  Not to cough or to sneeze
Give me your hand, Mary
  Hush! softly creep;
We must not wake her,—
  Dolly's asleep.

If at all restless
  Or wakeful she seems,
Don't be to anxious;
  I fancy she dreams.
Say to her softly,
  Just shaking your head;
"Go to sleep, Dolly,—
  Adie's in bed."


HUSH! (Dolls are sleeping.)



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Page 45—Dolly Land


Girl with Doll.


Lost Dolly

The sunflowers hang their heavy heads
  And wish the sun would shine;
The clouds are grey; the wind is cold.
  "Where is that doll of mine?
The dark is coming fast," said she.
  "I'm in a dreadful fright.
I don't know where I left my doll,
  And she'll be out all night

"Twice up and down the garden-walks
  I looked; but she's not there,
Oh! yes, I've hunted in the hay;
  I've hunted everywhere.
I must have left her out of doors,
  But she is not in sight.
No Dolly in the summer-house,
  And she'll be out all night.

"The dew will wet her through and through
  And spoil her dear best dress;
And she will wonder where I am
  And be in such distress;
The dogs may find her in the grass,
  And bark or even bite;
And all the bats will frighten her
  That fly about at night.

"I've not been down into the woods
  Or by the brook to-day.
I'm sure I had her in my arms
  When I came out to play,
Just after dinner; then I know,
  I watched Tom make his kite.
Will anybody steal my doll
  If she stays out all night.

"I wonder where Papa has gone?
  Why, here he comes; and see
He's bringing something in his hand;
  That's Dolly certainly!
And so you found her in the chaise,
  And brought her home all right?
I'll take her to the baby-house.
  I'm glad she's home tonight."

                Sarah O. Jewett


Talking To Dolly

Well, Dolly, what are you saying,
  When you blink and wink your eyes?
I'm sure your thoughts are straying,
  For you look so very wise.

I wonder what you think about,
  And why you never talk,
And how it is you never shout,
  And never try to walk!

I wonder if you're ever sad,
  And if you ever weep;
I wonder if you're ever glad
  When I rock you off to sleep.

I wonder if you love me well—
  As well as I love you.
I do so wish you'd try and tell;
  Come, Dolly, darling, do!


Darling Dolly

Darling Dolly's house shall be
High as lofty apple-tree;
It shall have a door inlaid,
Of the sweetest light and shade.

It shall have for pictures fair
Fancies that are rich and rare;
It shall have a golden roof,
And tapestry with stars for woof.

And it shall have a dome of blue
With the moonlight streaming through,
And stately pillars, straight as firs,
Bending to each wind that stirs.

Darling Dolly's house shall be
High as a lofty apple-tree;
It shall have a door inlaid,
Of the sweetest light and shade.


Girl Showing Doll to Another Girl.


Sour Grapes

"Such a doll! I wouldn't have it,
  With its trailing baby dress!
Pooh! a dolly twice as handsome
  I could have for asking, Bess.
Needn't ask me if it's pretty,
  No, I do not care to wait,
I am in an awful hurry,
  If you keep me, I'll be late."

Off went Nannie, proud lip curling,
  Head uplifted in disdain,
Bessie hugged her dolly closely,
  Laughing over truth so plain.
"Nan was envious, Dolly darling,
  'Twasn't aught of wrong in you,
But the trouble lay in Nannie,
  She would like to own you too."


My Dolly House.



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Page 46—Dolly Land


Oh, you Naughty Dog to Bite my Dolly.


Boo! Boo! Boo! He has Swallowed my Dolly.


Ten Little Dollies

Ten little dollies
  Standing in a line,
One tumbled down,
  And then there were nine.

Nine little dollies
  Sitting up so late,
One went to sleep
  Then there were eight.

Eight little dollies—
  All their ages even,
One grew up tall
  And then there were seven.

Seven little dollies,
  Full of funny tricks,
One snapt her head off
  Then there were six.

Six little dollies—
  Looked almost alive,
One lost her "pin-back,"
  Then there were five.

Five little dollies,
  Walking by a door,
One got her nose pinched,
  Then there were four.

Four little dollies
  On their mamma's knee,
One cried her eyes out,
  Then there were three.

Three little dollies,
  Didn't know what to do,
One tore her bows off,
  Then there were two.

Two little dollies,
  Very fond of fun,
One melts her nose off,
 Then there was one.

One little dolly,
  Living all alone,
Died broken-hearted,
  Then there were none.


Teaching Dolly ABC.


Kissing after a Doll Quarrel.



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Page 47—Dolly Land


Washing Dolly's Clothes.


My Week

On Monday I wash my dollies' clothes,
  On Tuesday smoothly press 'em,
On Wednesday mend their little hose,
  On Thursday neatly dress 'em.

On Friday I play they're taken ill,
  On Saturday something or other;
But when Sunday comes, I say, "Lie still,
  I'm going to church with mother."


Giving Dolly a Bath.


Dirty Dolly

Naughty Miss Dolly played out in the mud,
  And got all her clothes quite black;
And now such a rubbing, and scrubbing and tubbing
  As we have to give them, good lack!

'Tis hard to be mothers and laundresses too,
  And nurses and cooks beside.
Grown people don't know all we chicks have to do,
  For how can they tell till they've tried?


Washing Day Troubles

I know a little girl who tried,
  To wash her dolly's clothes, one day,
In Bridget's great, big tub, and cried
  Because mamma sent her away

To find her own small dolly-tub,
  More fit for little girls to use.
But naughty Sally shook her head
  And all suggestions did refuse.

And when she found herself alone,
  She went to Bridget's tub again,
But, as is sure to be the case,
  Her disobedience brought her pain.

For, what do you think? she tumbled in,
  And gave herself an awful fright,
And no one pitied her; in fact,
  They all laughed at her in her plight.


Washing Dolly

Miss Mary standing at the tub
Giving dolly a thorough scrub.
Trying to make her nice and sweet
Before she dresses for the street.
If health an happiness you'd glean
Remember always to keep clean.


Doll Rosy's Bath

'Tis time Doll Rosy had a bath,
  And she'll be good, I hope;
She likes the water well enough,
  But she doesn't like the soap.

Now soft I'll rub her with a sponge,
  Her eyes and nose and ears,
And splash her fingers in the bowl
  And never mind the tears.

There now—oh, my! what have I done?
  I've washed the skin off—see!
Her pretty pink and white are gone
  Entirely! oh, dear me!


The New Tea-Things

Come, Dolly, come quick,
  For I want you to see
The present mamma
  Has just given to me;
A set of new tea-things
  That really hold tea.

A dear little teapot
  To keep the tea hot,
And tiny white cups
  With a pretty blue spot,
And a glass sugar-basin.
  How nice, is it not?

And I am to use them
  This same afternoon;
So Dolly I'll give you
  Some tea very soon
In a little white cup,
  With a saucer and spoon.


Tea With Dolls.



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Page 48—Dolly Land


Sewing Doll Clothes.


Doll Dress-making

Making Dolly's dresses,
  Don't you think it's fun?
Here is one already,
  That I've just begun

Oh, how many stitches!
  And such a tangly thread!
When I pricked my finger
  I just guess it bled

There! the needle's broken—
  Bending all about—
That's a sign my dolly'll
  Wear the dresses out

                Youth's Companion


Dolly Town

Have you ever been down to Dolly Town?
The sight would do you good
  There the dollies walk,
  And the dollies talk,
  And they ride about
  In a grand turn-out,
  With a coachman thin
  Who is made of tin,
And a footman made of wood

There are very fine houses in Dolly Town,
Red, and green and blue;
  And a doctor, too,
  Who has much to do,
  Just to mend their toes
  And their arms and nose,
  When they tumble down
  And crack their crown
And the stuff they take is glue

But the finest sight in Dolly Town
That place to children dear—
  Is no dolly at all,
  Though so neat and small
  If you've time to spare,
  Go on tiptoe there,
See the pretty girl, the rose, the pearl,
Who is Queen of Dolly Town


My Little Doll Rose

I have a little doll,
  I take care of her clothes
She has soft flaxen hair,
  And her name is Rose

She has pretty blue eyes,
  And a very small nose,
And a cunning little mouth,
  And her name is Rose

I have a little sofa
  Where my dolly may repose,
Or sit up like a lady;
  And her name is Rose

My doll can move her arms,
  And can stand upon her toes,
She can make a pretty curtsey
  My dear little Rose

How old is your dolly?
  Very young I suppose,
For she cannot go alone,
  My pretty little Rose

Indeed I cannot tell
  In poetry or prose
How beautiful she is,
  My darling little Rose.

                E. Follen


Sewing For Dolly

Such a busy little mother!
  Such a pretty little "child"!
Did you ever see a dolly
  With a face more sweet and mild?

Such a comfort to her mother,
  Who is busy all the day,
And who never finds a moment
  With her little girl to play

There are dresses to be altered,
  There are aprons to be made,
"For my child in wardrobe matters
  Must not be thrown in shade"

Says the busy little mother,
  As she clips and works away,
And a brand new dress for Dolly
  Will be made this very day


The Lost Doll

I once had a sweet little doll, dears,
  The prettiest doll in the world;
Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,
  And her hair was so charmingly curled.

But I lost my poor little doll, dears,
  As I played in the heath one day;
I cried for her more than a week, dears,
  But I could never find where she lay.

Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,
  For her paint is all washed away,
And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears,
  And her hair is not the least bit curled;
Yet for old sake's sake she is still, dears,
  The prettiest doll in the world.

                Charles Kingsley


Dolly's Patchwork Counterpane

Oh, Mary, see what the nurse has found,
  Such store of pieces in my box!
Some green, and some with lilac ground.
  They'll make such lovely blocks

She says she'll teach me how to make
  A counterpane for Dolly's bed,
This lovely piece I first will take,
  With sprays of roses white and red

And thin this piece with purple spots
  Will look so pretty next to that!
I'll keep my cotton free from knots,
  And make my stitches neat and flat

And "when I've finished it," she says
  She'll line it with a square of white.
Oh, Dolly dear! your little bed
  Will be a most enchanting sight!


The Wooden Doll

I'm but a wooden doll,
  Have neither wit nor grace;
And very clumsy in my joints
  And yet I know my place.

Most people laugh at a wooden doll,
  And wooden I may be,
But little children love me much
  And that's enough for me.

When I am dressed in fine long clothes,
  In fur, and silk, and lace,
I think myself I'm not so bad
  And yet I know my place.

Let people laugh—I know I'm wood:
  Wax I can never be;
But little children think I'm grand—
  That's quite enough for me.


Buy My Dolls

Come buy my dolls, my pretty dolls:
  Come buy my dolls, I pray:
    I've such a heap,
    And I sell so cheap,
  I almost give them away.

I've waxen dolls, and china dolls,
  And dollies made of gum,
    Some are small,
    And some are tall,
  Some talk and some are dumb.

Bald head dolls, and dolls with hair,
  All beauties in their way—
    So very nice,
    So low in price,
  Please buy my dolls to-day.

Laughing dolls, and crying dolls;
  Dolls of various ages,
    Infant dolls,
    And lady dolls,
  Dolls in all the stages.

Go where you may, you will not find
  Such bargains as are these
    Make my heart light,
    Buy them to night,
  To grace your Christmas trees.


Finishing Dolls.



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Page 49—Dolly Land


Doctor Charlie and His Patient.


Doctor Charlie and His Patient

Run for the doctor!
  Dolly's very sick!
Mary, you'll have to go,
  I cannot leave her;
Tell him to pack his bottles
  And come quick;
I think she has got
  A very dangerous fever."

In stalks a hat and cane;
  If you look close,
You'll see Doctor Charlie,
  Somewhere under;
He takes a pinch of snuff
  And blows his nose,
While poor sick Dolly
  Seems to stare in wonder.

He feels her pules, he
  Gravely shakes his head:
His hat dropped o'er his eyes
  With the shake he gave it;
He says poor dolly
  Must be put to bed
And have her head shaved—
  He, in fact, will shave it.

Poor mamma sober looks,
  But says at once
That "Dolly's head shall
  Not be shaved! I guess not!
Her hair would never grow
  Again, you dunce!"
"It shall!" "It shan't!"
  "She'll die then, if it's not!"

But Mary, ere the quarrel
  Gets too grave
(Already in her hand
  A bowl of gruel),
Says, "Don't you know
  That doctors do not shave?
And then besides,
  It really would be cruel!"

"I'll give her pills, then,
  When she's safe in bed,
Plenty and sweet—of sugar
  I will make them;
As dolly cannot eat,
  'Twill do instead
For you and me and
  Mary here to take them."


Dollies' Broken Noses

Two little babies
  In carriages two,
Two little nurses
  With duty to do.

Both little nurses
  Were careful at first,
Soon both grew careless—
  Which was the worst.

O what a pitiful
  Wail from the street!
One broken rail
  Trips four little feet.

Over went carriages,
  Babies and all,
And two china noses
  Were cracked in the fall.


The Soldier Dolly

There once was a sweet tiny maiden,
  A wee little woman of four,
Who scarce could reach up to the table,
  Or open the nursery door;

And this poor little maid, she was crying—
  Her dolly had such a fall!
Yes there on the ground he was lying—
  Her darling, the best of them all.

This dolly had been a brave soldier,
  With uniform, sabre, and all,
And worshipp'd a doll in the doll's-house,
  That stood by the side of the wall.

She was only a poor tiny maiden,
  A wee little woman of four,
And she sat with her heart nearly breaking,
  With the doll in her lap on the floor.

And the poor, tiny, sorrowful maiden,
  The wee little woman of four,
Now lies with her dead soldier dolly,
  Asleep on the nursery floor.


The Dead Doll

You needn't be trying to comfort me—
  I tell you my dolly is dead!
There's no use saying she isn't—
  With a crack like that on her head.
It's just like you said it wouldn't hurt
  Much to have my tooth out that day.
And then when they most pulled
  My head off, you hadn't a word to say.

And I guess you must think I'm a baby,
  When you say you can mend it with glue!
As if I didn't know better than that!
  Why, just suppose it was you?
You might make her look all mended—
  But what do I care for looks?
Why, glue's for chairs and tables,
  And toys, and the backs of books!

My dolly! my own little daughter!
  Oh, but it's the awfullest crack!
It just makes me sick to think of the sound
  When her poor head went whack
Against this horrible brass thing
  That holds up the little shelf.
Now, Nursey, what makes you remind me?
  I know that I did it myself?

I think you must be crazy—
  You'll get her another head!
What good would forty heads do her?
  I tell you my dolly is dead!
And to think that I hadn't quite finished
  Her elegant New Year's hat!
And I took a sweet ribbon of hers
  List night to tie on that horrid cat!

When my mamma gave me that ribbon—
  I was playing out in the yard—
She said to me most expressly:
  "Here's a ribbon for Hildegarde."
And I went and put it on Tabby,
  And Hildegarde saw me do it;
But I said to myself, "Oh, never mind,
  I don't believe she knew it!"

But I know that she knew it now,
  And I just believe, I do,
That her poor little heart was broken,
  And so her head broke too.
Oh, my baby! my little baby!
  I wish my head had been hit!
For I've hit it over and over,
  And it hasn't cracked a bit.

But since the darling is dead,
  She'll want to be buried of course;
We will take my little wagon, Nurse,
  And you shall be the horse;
And I'll walk behind and cry;
  And we'll put her in this—you see,
This dear little box—and we'll bury
  Them under the maple tree.

And papa will make a tombstone,
  Like the one he made for my bird;
And he'll put what I tell him on it—
  Yes, every single word!
I shall say: "Here lies Hildegarde,
  A beautiful doll that is dead;
She died of a broken heart,
  And a dreadful crack in her head."

                Margaret Vandegrift


Dolly's Doctor

Dolly, my darling, is dreadfully sick;
  Oh, dear! what shall I do?
Despatch to the doctor a telephone quick
  To bring her a remedy new.

Hush! that is the doctor's tap! tap! tap!
  Don't make such a terrible noise—
Don't you see how the darling lies still on my lap,
  And never looks up at you boys!

Come, doctor, and tell me now just what you think
  Would be best for my darling so sweet.
'Give dolly a bucket of water to drink,
  In a bowl of hot gruel put her feet.'


Giving Sick Dolly Medicine.



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Page 50—Dolly Land


Dollies Courting.


Christening Dolly

See, this is my Christmas dolly,
  Two weeks ago she came;
And, oh! the trouble I have had
  To find a pretty name.

At first I thought of Marguerite—
  A French name, meaning "pearl"—
But Nellie said, "Oh! that's too stiff
  For such a graceful girl."

And then I mentioned, one by one,
  Susanna, Ruth, and Poll,
"But they are too old-fashioned names
  Said Nell, "to suit your doll."

So the next day I got a great big book,
  And searched it through and through,
Then shook my head and sadly said:
  "There's not one name will do."

My brother Tom was sitting near,
  He raised his eyes and smiled;
"Why, Pussy dear," he kindly said,
  "Suppose I name your child."

"Oh! will you Brother Tom?" I cried,
  And then I hugged him, so; (hugging her doll.)
"We'll play you are the parson
  That christens folks, you know."

So then, he took her in his arms
  And solemnly and slow
He said: "This baby's name shall be
  Miss Josephine, or Jo."

And there, before I knew it,
  My baby had a name;
And what I like about it, is,
  That mine is just the same.

                E.C. and J.T. Rook


The Dollies Visit

Three little girls brought each a doll,
  To pass an afternoon;
The dresses all were soon displayed,
  Their bangles made a tune;
And when they parted to go home,
  One young girl shrewdly said:
"Our dollies have behaved real nice—
  They have no scandal spread."
                W.


The Little Girl Over The Way

Whenever I'm tired of reading,
  Or lonely in my play,
I come to the window here, and watch
  The little girl over the way.

But she will not look nor listen,
  Nor stand for a moment still;
And though I watch her the livelong day,
  I'm afraid she never will.

For some day some one will buy her,
  And carry her quite away;—
She is only a doll in a great glass-case,
  The little girl over the way.


Maggie's Talk to Doll

  My dolly dear,
  Come sit up here!
And say why you don't cry.
  I've struck your head
  Against the bed,
And cracked your pretty eye,

  My dolly dear,
  Do sit up here,
And let me see your face;
  And say, my pet,
  Why you don't fret
Now Pug has got your place.

  My pretty Poll
  My dear, dear doll,
Why don't you eat or talk?
  Like sister Jane,
  And Sally Blane,
And then go for a walk?

  You have an eye,
  But never cry,
And lips, but never prattle;
  You've fingers ten,
  Like brother Ben,
But never shake the rattle.

  You never eat,
  Nor drink, nor sleep,
Nor move unless you're carried:
  And when I pinch,
  You never flinch,
Nor say that you are worried.


Minnie to Dolly

Your hair is so pretty,
  Your eyes are so blue,
Your cheeks are so rosy,
  Your frock is so new,
You're the prettiest dolly
  I ever did see.
Though your hair is so pretty,
  And your eyes are so blue,
I'd rather be Minnie
  Than I would be you,

For you can't see the flowers
  When they come up in spring;
You can't hear the birdies,
  How sweetly they sing;
Nor run out of doors
  To look in the sky,
And see the white clouds
  As they pass swiftly by.

You've no kind of papa
  Or mamma to be near,
To love you and teach you;
  So, dolly, my dear,
Though your cheeks are so rosy,
  And your dress is so new,
I'd rather be Minnie
  Than I would be you.


My Dolly

My Dolly, Polly Angelina Brown,
Has a pretty little bonnet,
    And a pretty little gown;
  A pretty little bonnet,
  With a lovely feather on it;
Oh, there's not another like it
    To be found in all the town!

My Dolly, Polly, is a precious little pet;
Her eyes are bright as jewels,
And her hair is black as jet;
  I hug her, and I kiss her!
  And oh, how I should miss her
If she were taken from me;
Oh how I should grieve and fret!

My little brother Charley,
  Says my Dolly is "a muff,"
And he calls her other horrid names
  Though that is bad enough;
  And though he's very clever,
  I never, no, I never
Let him handle her or dandle her,
  For boys, you know, are rough.

My Dolly's always smiling;
    She was never known to frown.
And she looks so very charming
    In her Sunday hat and gown.
  You really ought to see her
  To get a good idea
Of the beauty of my Dolly,
  Polly Angelina Brown.


Dolly's Wedding

    Come along; come along;
     The rain has gone away.
    Dingle-dong! dingle dong;
     It is Dolly's wedding-day!

Charley has got his night-gown on.
  Mary has put the chairs:
Charley is the clergyman
  Who'll marry them up-stairs.
    Come along; come along;
     The rain has gone away.
    Dingle-dong! dingle dong;
     It is Dolly's wedding-day!

Sambo has got an old white hat,
  And a coat with but one tail;
Sambo's face is very black,
  Dolly's is rather pale.
    Come along; come along;
     The rain has gone away.
    Dingle-dong! dingle dong;
     It is Dolly's wedding-day!

Sambo has got a woolly pate,
  Dolly has golden hair.
When Sambo marries Dolly,
  They'll be a funny pair!
    Come along; come along;
     The rain has gone away.
    Dingle-dong! dingle dong;
     It is Dolly's wedding-day!


Wedding For Dolls.



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