Part 14

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. Shaping from her bitter thought, Heart's-ease and forget-me-not, Satirizing her despair With the emblems woven there, Little doth the wearer heed Of the heart-break in the blede; A hyena by her side Skulks, down-looking--it is Pride.

J. R. Lowell

Vain Lizzie

It surely is not good to see, Lizzie so full of vanity, So fond of dress and show. For when a fine new frock she wears, She gives herself most silly airs, Wherever she may go.

She thinks herself a charming girl; But when folks see her twist and twirl, They stop in every street, They smile, or fairly laugh outright, And say: "She's really quite a sight, Was ever such conceit?"

[Illustration: Vain Lizzie.]

[Page 64--Naughtiness Land]

[Illustration: Nelly giving Ned her Apple.]

Greedy Ned

Mamma gave our Nelly an apple, So round, and big, and red; It seemed, beside dainty wee Nelly, To be almost as large as her head.

Beside her young Neddie was standing-- And Neddie loves apples, too, "Ah! Nelly!" said Neddie, "give brother A bite of your apple--ah! do!"

Dear Nelly held out the big apple; Ned opened his mouth very wide-- So wide, that the startled red apple Could almost have gone inside!

And oh! what a bite he gave it! The apple looked small, I declare, When Ned gave it back to his sister, Leaving that big bite there.

Poor Nelly looked frightened a moment, Then a thought made her face grow bright; "Here, Ned, you can take the apple-- _I'd rather have the bite!_"

Eva L. Carson, In "St. Nicholas"

The Biggest Piece Of Pie

Once, when I was a little boy, I sat me down to cry, Because my little brother had The biggest piece of pie.

They said I was a naughty boy, But I have since seen men Behave themselves as foolishly As I behaved then.

For we are often thankless for Rich blessings when we sigh, To think some lucky neighbour has A "bigger piece" of pie.

The Greedy, Impatient Girl

"Oh! I am so hungry, I'm sure I can't wait, For my apple-pudding to cool, So, Mary, be quick now And bring me a plate, For waiting for dinner I always did hate, Tho' forced oft to do it at school.

"But at home, when mamma Is not in the way, I surely will do as I choose; And I do not care for What you please to say-- The pudding won't burn me-- No longer I'll stay. What business have you to refuse?"

And now a large slice Of the pudding she got, And, fearful she should have no more, She cramm'd her mouth full Of the apple so hot, Which had but a minute Come out of the pot, But quickly her triumph was o'er.

Her mouth and her tongue Were so dreadfully sore, And suffer'd such terrible pain, Her pride and her consequence Soon were all o'er, And she said, now unable To eat any more, "Oh! I never will do so again!"

And thus, by not minding What she had been told, Young Ellinor lost all her treat; Too greedy to wait Till the pudding was cold, By being impatient, Conceited, and bold, Not a mouthful at last could she eat.

C. Horwood.

A Story Of An Apple

Little Tommy, and Peter, and Archie, and Bob Were walking, one day, when they found An apple: 'twas mellow, and rosy, and red, And lying alone on the ground.

Said Tommy: "I'll have it." Said peter: "'Tis mine." Said Archie: "I've got it; so there!" Said Bobby: "Now, let us divide it in four parts And each of us boys have a share."

"No, no!" shouted Tommy, "I'll have it myself." Said Peter: "I want it, I say." Said Archie: "I've got it, and I'll have it all, I won't give a morsel away."

Then Tommy he snatched it, and Peter he fought, ('Tis sad and distressing to tell!) And Archie held on with his might and his main, Till out from his fingers it fell.

Away from the quarrelsome urchins it flew And then, down a green little hill That apple it roll'd, and it roll'd, and it roll'd As if it would never be still.

A lazy old brindle was nipping the grass, And switching her tail at the flies, When all of a sudden the apple rolled down And stopped just in front of her eyes.

She gave but a bite and a swallow or two-- That apple was seen nevermore! "I wish," whimpered Archie, and Peter, and Tom, "We'd kept it and cut it in four."

Sydney Dyer

Greedy Richard

"I think I want some pies this morning" Said Dick, stretching himself and yawning; So down he threw his slate and books, And saunter'd to the pastry-cook's.

And there he cast his greedy eyes Round on the jellies and the pies, So to select, with anxious care, The very nicest that was there.

At last the point was thus decided: As his opinion was divided 'Twixt pie and jelly, he was loth Either to leave, so took them both.

Now Richard never could be pleas'd To stop when hunger was appeas'd, But he'd go on to eat and stuff, Long after he had had enough.

"I shan't take any more," said Dick, "Dear me, I feel extremely sick: I cannot eat this other bit; I wish I had not tasted it."

Then slowly rising from his seat, He threw the cheesecake in the street, And left the tempting pastry-cook's With very discontented looks.

Jane Taylor

[Page 65--Greediness Land]

The Plum Cake

"Oh! I've got a plum cake, And a rare feast I'll make, I'll eat, and I'll stuff, and I'll cram; Morning, noontime, and night, It shall be my delight;-- What a happy young fellow I am."

Thus said little George, And, beginning to gorge, With zeal to his cake he applied; While fingers and thumbs, For the sweetmeats and plums, Were hunting and digging besides.

But, woeful to tell, A misfortune befell, Which ruin'd this capital fun! After eating his fill, He was taken so ill, That he trembled for what he had done.

As he grew worse and worse, The doctor and nurse, To cure his disorder were sent; And rightly, you'll think, He had physic to drink, Which made him his folly repent.

And while on his bed He roll'd his hot head, Impatient with sickness and pain; He could not but take This reproof from his cake, "Don't be such a glutton again!"

Another Plum Cake

"Oh! I've got a plum cake, And a feast let us make, Come, school-fellows, come at my call; I assure you 'tis nice, And we'll each have a slice, Here's more than enough for us all."

Thus said little Jack, As he gave it a smack, And sharpen'd his knife for the job! While round him a troop, Formed a clamorous group, And hail'd him the king of the mob.

With masterly strength He cut thro' it at length, And gave to each playmate a share; Dick, William, and James, And many more names, Partook of his benevolent care.

And when it was done, And they'd finish'd their fun, To marbles or hoop they went back, And each little boy Felt it always a joy To do a good turn for good Jack.

In his task and his book, His best pleasures he took, And as he thus wisely began, Since he's been a man grown, He has constantly shown That a good boy will make a good man.

Ann Taylor

The Great Glutton

'Twas the voice of the glutton, I heard him complain: My waistcoat unbutton, I'll eat once again.

The Glutton

The voice of the glutton I heard with disdain-- "I've not eaten this hour, I must eat again; Oh! give me a pudding, A pie, or a tart, A duck or a fowl, Which I love from my heart.

"How sweet is the picking Of capon or chicken! A turkey and chine Are most charming and fine; To eat and to drink All my pleasure is still, I care not who wants So that I have my fill."

Oh! let me not be, Like a glutton, inclined In feasting my body And starving my mind, With moderate viands Be thankful, and pray That the Lord may supply me With food the next day.

Not always a-craving With hunger still raving; But little and sweet Be the food that I eat. To learning and wisdom Oh let me apply. And leave to the glutton His pudding and pie.

J. Taylor

Selfish Edith

Selfish Edith, not to give Her sister one, when she has two! I wouldn't and I couldn't love A selfish girl like her, could you?

Hear Bessie ask in plaintive tone, "Please, Edith, let me play with one!" While naughty Edith shakes her head: I fear she'll have but little fun

With toys unshared so selfishly; But when she tires of lonely play, Perhaps she'll secretly resolve To be more kind another day.

Hoggish Henry

Oh! Henry eats like any pig; He drives his mother mad. She scolds. He does not care a fig, It's really very sad.

She says: "Your sister, little dear, Is always clean and neat; And though she's younger by a year, How nicely she can eat."

It's all in vain. He does not care; He's shocking to behold. The table-cloth and napkin there Are smeared in every fold.

Upon the floor, crumbs thickly lie, As though for chickens laid, Around his mouth and nose, oh fie! Is dirt of every shade.

He looks, bedaubed with smear and stain, Just like some savage wild, His hands as forks are used, it's plain. For shame! You dirty child!

Selfishness

Look at the selfish man! see how he locks Tight in his arms his mortgages and stocks! While deeds and titles in his hand he grasps, And gold and silver close around he clasps. But not content with this, behind he drags A cart well-laden with ponderous bags; The orphan's wailings, and the widow's woe From mercy's fountain cause no tears to flow; He pours no cordial in the wounds of pain; Unlocks no prison, and unclasps no chain; His heart is like the rock where sun nor dew Can rear one plant or flower of heavenly hue. No thought of mercy there may have its birth, For helpless misery or suffering worth; The end of all his life is paltry pelf, And all his thoughts are centred on--himself: The wretch of both worlds; for so mean a sum, First starved in this, then damn'd in that to come.

[Illustration: Our selfish Brother who became a Screw.]

[Page 66--Lying Land]

[Illustration: Bad Boy blaming dog for Broken Vase.]

Bad Boy having broken a Vase told his Mother that the Dog did it, but when his Mother was going to beat the poor Innocent Dog he felt sorry, and told the truth.

Truthful Dottie; Or The Broken Vase

Nellie and Dottie Both here mamma say, "Pray from the drawing-room Keep away.

Don't take your toys there, Lest someone should call: Run out in the garden With rope, bat and ball."

The garden is lovely, This bright summer day; But Nellie and Dottie Too soon came away.

Into the drawing-room Dottie comes skipping, With her new rope All the furniture flipping:

Down goes the tall vase, So golden and gay, Smashed all to pieces, "What will mamma say?"

Cries Nell with her hands raised, "Oh Dottie, let's run; They'll think it was pussy, Who did it in fun."

Dot answers, through big tears, "But, Nell, don't you see, Though nobody watched us, God knows it was me.

Mamma always says, That, whatever we do, The harm's not so great, If we dare to be true.

So I'll go up and tell her It caught in my rope; Perhaps she won't scold much, At least, so I'll hope."

"That's right!" cries her mother, Who stands by the door, "I would rather have ten vases Were smashed on the floor

Than my children should once break The bright words of truth, The dearest possession Of age or of youth.

The vase can be mended, And scarce show a crack, But a falsehood once spoken Will never come back."

However much grieved for By young folks or old, An untruth once uttered, Forever is told.

The Liar Reclaimed

O! 'tis a lovely thing for youth To walk betimes in wisdom's way; To fear a lie, to speak the truth, That we may trust to all they say.

But liars we can never trust, Tho' they should speak the thing that's true, And he that does one fault at first, And lies to hide it, makes it two.

The Truth

Why should you fear the truth to tell? Does falsehood ever do you so well? Can you be satisfied to know There's something wrong to hide below No! let your fault be what it may, To own it is the happy way.

So long as you your crime conceal, You cannot light or gladsome feel; Your heart will ever feel oppressed, As if a weight were on your breast: And e'en your mother's eye to meet Will tinge your face with shame and heat.

False Alarms

Little Mary one day most loudly did call, "Mamma! oh, mamma, pray come here! A fall I have had--oh! a very sad fall." Mamma ran in haste and in fear; Then Mary jump'd up, and she laugh'd in great glee, And cried, "Why, how fast you can run! No harm has befallen, I assure you, to me, My screaming was only in fun."

Her mother was busy at work the next day, She heard from without a loud cry, "The big dog has got me! O help me! Oh! pray! He tears me--he bites me--I die!" Mamma, all in terror, quick to the court And there little Mary she found; Who, laughing, said, "Madam, pray how do you do!" And curtsey'd quite down to the ground.

That night little Mary, when long gone to bed, Shrill cries and loud shriekings were heard; "I'm on fire, O mamma, come up or I'm dead!" Mamma she believ'd not a word. "Sleep, sleep, naughty child," she call'd out from below, "How often have I been deceived? You're telling a story, you very well know: Go to sleep, for you can't be believed."

Yet still the child scream'd--now the house fill'd with smoke. That fire is above Jane declares. Alas! Mary's words they soon found were no joke, When ev'ryone hastened upstairs. All burnt and all seam'd is her once pretty face, And how terribly mark'd are her arms, Her features all scarr'd, leave a lasting disgrace, For giving Mamma false alarms.

Adelaide Taylor

To A Little Girl That Has Told A Lie

And has my darling told a lie? Did she forget that God was by? That God who saw the thing she did, From whom no action can be hid; Did she forget that God could see, And hear, wherever she might be?

He made you eyes and can discern Whichever way you think to turn; He made your ears, and He can hear When you think nobody is near; In ev'ry place, by night or day, He watches all you do and say.

You thought, because you were alone, Your falsehood never could be known, But liars always are found out, Whatever ways they wind about; And always be afraid, my dear, To tell a lie,--for God can hear!

I wish, my dear, you'd always try To act as shall not need a lie; And when you wish a thing to do, That has been once forbidden to you, Remember that, and never dare To disobey--For God is there!

Why should you fear to tell me true? Confess, and then I'll pardon you: Tell me you're sorry, and you'll try To act the better by and bye, And then whate'er your crime has been, It won't be half so great a sin.

But cheerful, innocent, and gay, As passes by the smiling day, You'll never have to turn aside, From any one your faults to hide; Nor heave a sigh, nor have a fear, That either God or I should hear.

Ann Taylor

[Illustration: Blind Man reading to the Deaf and Dumb Man.]

The Blind Man reading to the Deaf and Dumb Man after business hours, and their wicked Dog looking out.

[Page 67--Laziness Land]

[Illustration: Naughty lazy Boy who would not go to School.]

Idle Mary

Oh, Mary, this will never do! This work is sadly done, my dear, And such little of it too! You have not taken pains, I fear.

On no, your work has been forgotten, Indeed you've hardly thought of that; I saw you roll your ball of cotton About the floor to please the cat.

See, here are stitches straggling wide, And others reaching down so far; I'm very sure you have not tried At all to-day to please mamma.

The little girl who will not sew Should never be allowed to play; But then I hope, my love, that you Will take more pains another day.

Lazy Sal

A lazy, lazy, lazy girl! Her hair forever out of curl, Her feet unshod, her hands unclean, Her dress in tatters always seen.

Lounging here and dawdling there, Lying out 'most anywhere About the barn-yard. Not a thought Of studying lessons as she ought;

But happiest when in sunny weather She and "the other pig" together Are playing tricks. No wonder, then, The farmer, jolliest of men,

Is apt to say, when tired out With seeing her sprawling round about, "Beats all what ails that lazy gal! Why, piggy's twice as smart as Sal!"

The Work-bag

To Jane her aunt a work-bag gave, Of silk with flowers so gay, That she a place might always have To put her work away.

And then 'twas furnished quite complete With cotton, silk and thread, And needless in a case so neat, Of all the sizes made.

A little silver thimble, too, Was there among the rest; And a large waxen doll, quite new, That waited to be dress'd.

But Jane was very fond of play, And loved to toss her ball; An I am quite ashamed to say, She scarcely worked at all.

But if at any time she did, 'Twas but a stitch or two; And though she often has been bid, But little more would do.

The pretty little bag, indeed, Was hung upon her chair; But cotton, needles, silk, and thread Were scattered here and there.

Her aunt, by chance, came in that day, And asked if the doll was dress'd; Miss Jane has been engaged in play, And careless of the rest.

The silk, to make her little dress, Was on the table laid, And, with an equal carelessness, The cap had also strayed.

With gauze and lace the floor was strewed, All in disorder lay, When, bounding in with gesture rude, Came Jane, returned from play.

She little thought her aunt to find, And blushed to see her there; It brought her carelessness to mind, And what her doll should wear.

"Well, Jane, and where's your doll, my dear? I hope you've dress'd her now; But there is such a litter here, You best know when and how."

So spoke her aunt, and, looking round The empty bag she spied; Poor Jane, who no excuse had found, Now hid her face and cried.

"Since," said her aunt, "no work, you do, But waste your time in play; The work-bag, of no use to you, I now shall take away."

But now, with self-conviction, Jane Her idleness confessed, And ere her aunt could come again, Her doll was neatly dressed.

The Two Gardens

When Harry and Dick Had been striving to please, Their father (to whom it was known) Made two little gardens, And stocked them with trees, And gave one to each for his own.

Harry thank'd his papa, And with rake, hoe, and spade, Directly began his employ; And soon such a neat Little garden was made, That he panted with labour and joy.

There was always some bed Or some border to mend, Or something to tie or stick: And Harry rose early His garden to tend, While snoring lay indolent Dick.

The tulip, the rose, And the lily so white, United their beautiful bloom! And often the honey-bee Stoop'd from his flight, To sip the delicious perfume.

A neat row of peas In full blossom was seen, French beans were beginning to shoot! And his gooseb'ries and currents, Tho' yet they were green, Foretold of plenty of fruit.

But Richard loved better In bed to repose, And snug as he curl'd himself round, Forgot that not tulip, Nor lily, nor rose, Nor plant in his garden was found.

Rank weeds and tall nettles Disfigur'd his beds, Nor cabbage nor lettuce was seen, The slug and the snail Show'd their mischievous heads, And eat ev'ry leaf that was green.

Thus Richard the idle, Who shrank from the cold, Beheld his trees naked and bare; Whilst Harry the active Was charmed to behold The fruit of his patience and care.

Ann Taylor.

Doing Nothing

I asked a lad what he was doing; "Nothing, good sir," said he to me. "By nothing well and long pursuing, Nothing," said I, "you'll surely be."

I asked a lad what he was thinking; "Nothing," said he. "I do declare." "Many," said I, "in vile inns drinking, By idle minds were carried there."

There's nothing great, there's nothing wise, Which idle hands and minds supply; Those who all thought and toil despise, Mere nothings live, and nothings die.

A thousand naughts are not a feather, When in a sum they all are brought; A thousand idle lads together Are still but nothings joined to naught.

And yet of merit they will boast, And sometimes pompous seem, and haughty, But still 'tis very plain to most, That "nothing" boys are mostly naughty.

[Page 68--Laziness Land]

Lazy Sam

There was a lazy boy named Sam, The laziest ever known, Who spent his time in idleness, Like any other drone. He loved to lie in bed till noon, With covers closely drawn, And when he managed to get up He'd yawn, and yawn, and yawn.

If asked to do a simple task He always would refuse, And say that he was lame or sick, His action to excuse, And over pretty picture-books-- Twas really very odd-- This lazy boy would soon begin To nod, and nod, and nod.

If on an errand forced to go, He'd slowly, slowly creep, Just like a snail; you might suppose That he was half asleep. And those who would despatch in haste A note, or telegram, Would chose a swifter messenger Than such a lazy Sam.

If he was caught out in a storm 'Twould drench him to the skin, Because he was too indolent To hurry to get in. Deep in his trouser's pockets he His idle hands would cram, And children crowded to the doors To look at lazy Sam.

This lazy boy would lounge about The docks, and often wish That he could carry home to cook A string of nice, fresh fish; But though he was provided with A reel extremely fine, Said Sam "I do not think 'twill pay To wet my fishing line!"