Part 13

Annetta, Fanetta and Nanetta, Edicus, Tedicus and Fredicus, Eddyetta, Teddyetta & Freddyetta, Emilus, Remilus and Zemilus, Faula, Paula and Saula, Callio, Sallio and Vallio, Delios, Helios and Melios, Deo, Leo, Neo and Zeo, Are all good names for dolls.

Dollian, Mollian and Pollian, Dorabella, Florabella, Norabella, Lilo, Milo, Philo, Silo and Tilo, Bella, Kella, Nella and Stella, Dollyetta, Lollyetta & Nollyetta, Sunnylena, Honeylena, Moneylena, Moonelena, Noonelena, Doonelena, Stellalena, Bellalena & Ellalena, Are all good names for dolls.

E.W.C.

[Illustration: Girl Scolding Dog for breaking Dolly.]

_P.S. Nebuchadnezzar and Nebuchadrezzar,_ _Wandiligong & Croajingoalong,_ _Are four good names for pussies._

[Page 58--Temper Land]

[Illustration: A Bad-Tempered Baby Boy.]

Good Mamma

Love, come and sit upon my knee, And give me kisses, one, two, three, And tell me whether you love me. My baby.

For this I'm sure, that I love you, And many, many things I do, And many an hour I sit and sew For baby.

And then at night I lie awake, Thinking of things that I can make, And trouble that I mean to take For baby.

An when you're good and do not cry, Nor into angry passions fly, You can't think how papa and I Love baby.

But if my little child should grow To be a naughty child, I know 'Twould grieve mamma to serve her so, My baby.

And when you saw me pale and thin, By grieving for my baby's sin, I think you'd wish that you had been A better baby.

How They Made Up

Two naughty little people Had a quarrel one sad day, Each said that with the other, She never more would play.

And so upon each other Their little backs they turned, And all the old time fondness Alas! they coldly spurned.

But oh! their angry hearts grew weary, The anger died away, Each hoped that soon the other Would have a word to say.

Each waited, oh! how sadly! Each moved a little near, And each "around the corner" Began, at last, to peer.

Then Nellie held her dolly To Annie with a smile: "You may have it if you want to. An play with it awhile."

Then Annie quickly followed The rule she knew was right: "I've got an apple, Nellie, I'll give you a big bite." And somehow the sweet faces Met fair and square at last, And kisses sweet and loving Sent the quarrel flying fast.

Little Whimpy

Whimpy, little Whimpy, Cried so much one day; His grandma couldn't stand it, And his mother ran away! He was waiting by the window When they all came home to tea. And a gladder boy than Whimpy, You never need hope to see!

[Illustration: A Naughty, Naughty, Naughty Girl.]

Master Cross Patch

Cross Patch, cross Patch, What's the matter now? Why that wail of fretfulness, And a scowl upon your brow?

Milk upset and wasted! Water in your plate, No one's sorry, old cross Patch, For your wretched fate.

You began the morning With a frown, my lad And every word that you have said Has made your mother sad.

And by your pettish temper, You've spoiled your breakfast, too. Cross Patch, cross Patch, No one pities you.

Sulky Sarah

Why is Sarah standing there, Leaning down upon a chair, With such an angry lip and brow? I wonder what's the matter now.

Come here my dear and tell me true, It is because I spoke to you About the work you'd done so slow, That you are standing fretting so?

Why then, indeed, I'm grieved to see, That you can so ill-tempered be: You make your fault a great deal worse By being angry and perverse.

Oh! how much better 'twould appear, To see you shed a humble tear, And then to hear you meekly say, "I'll not do so another day."

Jane Taylor

[Illustration: Sulking Girl.]

[Page 59--Temper Land]

[Illustration: A Naughty Bad-Tempered Boy who broke his Sister's Playthings.]

A New Year's Gift

A charming present comes from town, A baby-house quite neat; With kitchen, parlours, dining-room, And chambers, all complete.

A gift to Emma and to Rose, From grandpa it came; The little Rosa smil'd delight, And Emma did the same.

They eagerly examin'd all-- The furniture was gay; And in the rooms they plac'd their dolls, When dress'd in fine array.

At night, their little candles lit, And as they must be fed, To supper down the dolls were plac'd, And then were put to bed.

Thus Rose and Emma pass'd each hour Devoted to their play; And long were cheerful, happy, kind-- No cross disputes had they.

Till Rose in baby-house would change The chairs which were below "This carpet they would better suit; I think I'll have it so."

"No, no indeed," her sister said, "I'm older, Rose, than you; And I'm the pet--the house is mine: Miss, what I say is true."

The quarrel grew to such a height, Mamma she heard the noise, And coming in, beheld the floor All strew'd with broken toys.

"O fie, my Emma! naughty Rose! Say, why this sulk and pout? Remember this is New Year's Day, And both are going out."

Now Betty calls the little girls To come upstairs and dress: They still revile, with threats And angry rage express.

But just prepar'd to leave their room, Persisting yet in strife, Rose sick'ning fell on Betty's lap. As void of sense or life.

Mamma appear'd at Betty's call-- John for the doctor goes; The measles, he begins to think, Dread symptoms all disclose.

"But though I stay, my Emma, you May go and spend the day." "O no, mamma," replied the child, "Do suffer me to stay.

"Beside my sister's bed I'll sit, And watch her with such care, "No pleasure can I e'er enjoy, Till she my pleasure share.

"How silly now seems our dispute, Not one of us she knows; How pale she looks, how hard she breathes, Poor pretty little Rose!"

Adelaide Taylor

Quarrelling

Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 'tis their nature too.

Dr Watts

Angry Words

Poison-drops of care and sorrow, Bitter poison-drops are they, Weaving for the coming morrow, Saddest memories of to-day.

Angry words, oh! let them never From the tongue unbridled slip; May the heart's best impulse ever Check them ere they soil the lip.

Love is much too pure and holy, Friendship is too sacred far, For a moment's reckless folly Thus to desolate and mar.

Angry words are lightly spoken, Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred, Brightest links of life are broken, By a single angry word.

The Tear And The Smile

A little tear and a little smile Set out to run a race; We watched them closely all the while-- Their course was baby's face.

The little tear he got the start We really feared he'd win, He ran so fast and made a dart Straight for her dimpled chin.

But somehow, it was very queer, We watched them all the while-- The little, shining, fretful tear Got beaten by the smile.

Love One Another

Silly little Mary, Sulking all the day, While the other children Run about and play.

Silly little Mary Wears a peevish look, When she sees the others Laughing at the brook.

Silly little Mary, Will not skip or swing, Won't at puss-in-corner play, Won't do anything.

Silly little Mary Hides behind the bank, In among the roots and weeds, All so thick and rank.

Mary hears a footstep O'er the velvet moss, Sees a roguish little face It is Willie Ross.

I have found you, Mary. Won't you come play too? And with cheeks all crimsoned, Whispers--I love you.

Ah! but love has conquered Fall the tears like rain, Then our little Mary Is herself again.

Where are sulks and tears now? All are fled away. And our little Mary Will both laugh and play.

[Illustration: A Naughty Sulky Boy.]

[Page 60--Naughtiness Land]

[Illustration: A Bad-Tempered Girl.]

Anger

Oh! anger is an evil thing And spoils the fairest face; It cometh like a rainy cloud Upon a sunny place.

One angry moment often does What we repent for years: It works the wrong we ne'er make right By sorrow or tears.

It speaks the rude and cruel word That wounds a feeling breast: It strikes the reckless sudden blow-- It breaks the household rest.

We dread the dog that turns in play, All snapping, fierce and quick; We shun the steed whose temper shows In strong and savage kick.

But how much more we find to blame, When passion wildly swells In hearts where kindness has been taught, And brains where reason dwells!

The hand of peace is frank and warm And soft as a ring-dove's wing; And he who quells an angry thought Is greater than a king.

Shame to the lips that ever seek To stir up jarring strife, When gentleness would shed so much Of Christian joy through life!

Ever remember in thy youth, That he who firmly tries To conquer an to rule himself, Is noble, brave and wise.

Eliza Cook

The Little Girl That Beat Her Sister

Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss Your little sister dear; I must not have such things as this, Nor noisy quarrels here.

What! little children scold and fight, That ought to be so mild: Oh! Mary, 'tis a shocking sight To see an angry child.

I can't imagine, for my part, The reason of your folly, As if she did you any hurt By playing with your dolly.

See, see the little tears that run So quickly from her eye: Come, my sweet innocent, have done, 'Twill do no good to cry.

Go, Mary, wipe her tears away And make it up with kisses: And never turn a pretty play To such a pet as this is.

Home Peace

"Whatever brawls disturb the street There should be peace at home; Where sisters dwell and brothers meet Quarrels should never come."

Dr. Watts

Little Dick Snappy

Little Dick Snappy Was always unhappy Because he did nothing but fret; And when he once cried, 'Twas in vain that you tried To make him his troubles forget.

His mother once brought him A drum, which she bought him Hard by at a neighbouring fair, And gave such another To Edward his brother, And left them their pleasures to share.

Little Edward began, Like a nice little man, To play with his little new drum; But Dick, with a pout, Only turned his about In his hands, and looked sulky and glum.

"What's the matter, dear Dick? You look sad; are you sick? Come, march like a soldier with me: The enemy comes Let us beat on our drums, And mamma will out merriment see."

"No! I don't like my new toy," Said my ill-humoured boy, "And yours is the best and most new; If you'll give me yours, Then I'll go out of doors; But if not, I'll kick mine in two."

"Oh no! brother, no-- Pray do not say so Of a trifle, in anger and haste; Though they are equally new, Yet my drum I'll give you, But I've tied it in knots round my waist."

Then quarrelsome Dick Gave his brother a kick; But he did not give him another, But, saying no more, Edward walked to the door, Only giving one look at his brother.

Then, bursting with spite, With his utmost of might Master Dick trod his drum on the floor; The parchment did crack, When lo; Edward comes back, And his drum in his hands then he bore.

"The string is untied, Dearest brother," he cried-- "So now I with pleasure will change;" But when Dick's drum he found Lying broke on the ground, Oh! how did his countenance change.

"I'm really ashamed," Dick, sobbing, exclaimed, "At the difference between you and me; But continue my friend, And I'll try to amend, And a good-tempered fellow to be."

Which Shall It Be, Dear?

If fretting pays you, fret; And get into a pet, And slam and bang The doors with a whang, And flame and flare, And say "Don't care." And slip round sly, And make the baby cry, And thus get sent to bed, to sob it out.

But if it does not pay Why then, my dear, do pray Just do the other thing, And toot and sing, And whistle like a bird. Letting your voice be heard, From morn till night, In echoes bright, Sending the best of cheer into the home.

[Illustration: I will be Good, Mamma.]

[Page 61--Naughtiness Land]

[Illustration: Quarrelsome Boys.]

Govern Your Temper

Oh, Govern your temper! For music, the sweetest, Was never so sweet-- Nor one-half so divine, As a heart kept in tune, Which, the moment thou greetest, Breathes harmony dearer Than notes can combine!

Never say it is nature. And may not be cured; One tithe of the time, Which to music we yield Would render the conquest Of temper insured, And bring us more music Than a song e'er revealed.

Oh, govern your temper! For roses, the fairest, Were never so fair, Nor so rich in perfume, As the flowers, which e'en thou, Chilly winter sparest-- The flowers of the heart, Which unchangingly bloom!

Never think it is nature-- For oh! if it be, The sooner the spirit Of nature is shown That the spirit of heaven Is higher than she, The sooner, the longer, Will love be our own.

[Illustration: A Bad, Wicked Bully.]

Where Do You Live

I knew a man, and his name was Horner, He used to live at Grumble Corner,-- Grumble Corner, in Cross Patch Town,-- And he never was seen without a frown. He grumbled at this, he grumbled at that; He growled at the dog, he growled at the cat; He grumbled at morning, he grumbled at night, And to grumble and growl was his chief delight.

He grumbled so much at his wife, that she Began to grumble as well as he; And all the children wherever they went Reflected their parents' discontent. If the sky was dark and betokened rain, Then Mr. Horner was sure to complain; And if there was never a cloud about, He'd grumble because of threatened drought.

One day, as I loitered along the street, My old acquaintance I chanced to meet. Whose face was without the look of care And the ugly frown it used to wear. "I may be mistaken, perhaps," I said. As, after saluting, I turned my head; "But it is, and it isn't, the Mr. Horner Who lived so long at Grumble Corner."

I met him next day, and I met him again, In melting weather, in pouring rain; When stocks were up and when stocks were down; But a smile, somehow, had replac'd the frown. It puzzled me much, and so, one day, I seized his hand in a friendly way, And said "Mr. Horner, I'd like to know What can have happened to change you so."

He laughed a laugh that was good to hear, For it told of a conscience calm and clear, And he said, with none of the old-time drawl, "Why, I've changed my residence, that is all." "Changed your residence?" "Yes," said Horner, "It wasn't healthy at Grumble Corner, And so I've moved: 'twas a change complete; And you'll find me now at Thanksgiving Street."

And every day, as I move along The streets, so filled with busy throng, I watch each face, and can always tell Where men, and women, and children dwell. And many a discontented mourner Is spending his days at Grumble Corner, Sour and sad, whom I long to entreat To take a house in Thanksgiving Street.

Temper

Bad temper, go, You shall never stay with me; Bad temper, go, You and I shall never agree.

For I will always be kind, and mild, And gentle pray to be, And do to others as I wish That they should do to me.

Temper bad With me shall never stay; Temper bad Can never be happy and gay.

[Illustration: Naughty Boys Fighting.]

[Page 62--Pride Land]

[Illustration: A Vain old Fop.]

A Fine Lady

Did ever you see such wondrous airs! Oh, oh! my Lady Jane! Your airs will blow you quite away, You'll go to Vanity-land to stay, And ne'er come back again.

Pray, what's the price of your hat my dear? And what'll you take for your gloves? And how'll you sell each pink kid shoe? And your wonderful dressed-up poodle, too? You're a precious pair of loves.

You're all too fine for us, you know, With your airs and stately tread, From your pretty feet to your pretty dress, And up to your ruffled neck, oh, yes, And on to your feathered head.

So go your way, my Lady Jane, Till you come from Vanity-land again.

To A Little Girl Who Liked To Look In The Glass

Why is my silly girl so vain, Looking in the glass again? For the meekest flower of spring Is a gayer little thing.

Is your merry eye so blue As the violet, wet with dew? Yet it loves the best to hide By the hedge's shady side.

Is your bosom half so fair As the modest lilies are? Yet their little bells are hung Bright and shady leaves among.

When your cheek the brightest glows, Is it redder than the rose? But its sweetest buds are seen Almost hid with moss and green.

Little flowers that open gay, Peeping forth at break of day, In the garden, hedge, or plain, Have more reason to be vain.

The Ragged Girl's Sunday

"Oh, dear Mamma, that little girl Forgets this is the day When children should be clean and neat, And read and learn and pray!

Her face is dirty and her frock, Holes in her stockings, see; Her hair is such a fright, oh, dear! How wicked she must be!

She's playing in the kennel dirt With ragged girls and boys; But I would not on Sunday touch My clean and pretty toys.

I go to church, and sit so still, I in the garden walk, Or take my stool beside the fire, And hear nice Sunday talk.

I read my bible, learn my hymns, My catechism say; That wicked little girl does not-- She only cares to play."

"Ah! hush that boasting tone, my love, Repress self-glorying pride; You can do nothing of yourself-- Friends all your actions guide."

Criminal Pride

Hark the rustle of a dress Stiff with lavish costliness! Here comes on whose cheek would flush But to have her garment brush 'Gainst the girl whose fingers thin Wove the weary 'broidery in, Bending backward from her toil, Lest her tears the silk might soil, And in midnight's chill and murk, Stitched her life into the work. Little doth the wearer heed Of the heart-break in the brede; A hyena by her side Skulks, down-looking--it is Pride.

J. R. Lowell

Foolish Fanny

Oh! Fanny was so vain a lass, If she came near a looking-glass, She'd stop right there for many a minute To see how pretty she looked in it.

She'd stand and prink, and fix her hair Around her forehead with great care; And take some time to tie a bow That must, to please her, lie just so.

Her mother's bonnet she'd put on, And all her richest dresses don, And up and down the room parade, And much enjoy her promenade.

She always liked to wear the best She had, and being so much dress'd Could not enjoy the romps with those Who wore much less expensive clothes.

Each day she grew so fond of dress It gave her great unhappiness If every day, and all the while, She wasn't in the latest style.

If asked to turn the jumping-rope Her pretty parasol she'd ope, Lest she should freckle in the sun: And that was her idea of fun!

She didn't dare to take the cat Or poodle-dog from off the mat, Lest they should catch their little toes In laces, frills, or furbelows.

The very things that gave her joy, Her peace and comfort would destroy, For oft an ugly nail would tear The costly dress she chose to wear.

The foolish girl turned up her nose At those who dressed in plainer clothes, And lived in quiet style, for she With wealthy people chose to be

She never was the least inclined With knowledge to enrich her mind; And all the mental food she ate Was served upon a fashion-plate.

As this was so, you'll see at once That Fan grew up a silly dunce: An there was nothing to admire About her, but her fine attire.

[Illustration: Foolish Fanny.]

[Page 63--Pride Land]

[Illustration: Mr. Importance walking along the street.]

Pride

Come, come, Mr. Peacock, You must not be so proud, Although you can boast such a train, For there's many a bird Far more highly endowed, And not half so conceited and vain.

Let me tell you, gay bird, That a suit of fine clothes Is a sorry distinction at most, And seldom much valued Excepting by those Who only such graces can boast.

The nightingale certainly Wears a plain coat, But she cheers and delights with her song; While you, though so vain, Cannot utter a note To please by the use of your tongue.

The hawk cannot boast Of a plumage so gay, But more piercing and clear is her eye; And while you are strutting About all the day, She gallantly soars in the sky.

The dove may be clad In a plainer attire, But she is not so selfish and cold; And her love and affection More pleasure inspire Than all your fine purple and gold.

So, you see, Mr. Peacock, You must not be proud, Although you can boast such a train, For many a bird Is more highly endowed, And not half so conceited and vain.

Sinful Pride

How proud we are, how fond to shew Our clothes, and call them rich and new, When the poor sheep and silkworm wore That very clothing long before!

The tulip and butterfly Appear in gayer coats than I; Let me be dress'd as fine as I will, Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me.

Dr. Watts

Finery

In a frock richly trimm'd With a beautiful lace, And hair nicely dress'd Hanging over her face, Thus deck'd, Harriet went To the house of a friend, With a large little party The ev'ning to spend.

"Ah! how they will all Be delighted, I guess, And stare with surprise At my elegant dress!" Thus said the vain girl, And her little heart beat, Impatient the happy Young party to meet.

But, alas! they were all To intent on their fun, To observe the gay clothes This fine lady had on; And thus all her trouble Quite lost its design, For they saw she was proud, But forgot she was fine.

'Twas Lucy, tho' only In simple white clad, (Nor trimmings, nor laces, Nor jewels she had,) Whose cheerful good nature Delighted them more, Than all the fine garments That Harriet wore.

'Tis better to have A sweet smile on one's face, Than to wear a rich frock With an elegant lace, For the good-natur'd girl Is lov'd best in the main, If her dress is but decent, Tho' ever so plain.

T I

A Fop

A little cane, A high-crowned hat, A fixed impression, Rather flat.

A pointed shoe, A scanty coat, A stand-up collar Round his throat

A gorgeous necktie Spreading wide, A small moustache-- Nine on a side.

Arms at right angles, Curved with ease, A stilted walk And shaky knees.

A languid drawl, The "English" swing, An air of knowing Everything.

A vacant stare, Extremely rude, And there you have The perfect dude.

Pride