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 Rhymes 
 BY C. L.}lATEAUX. 
 
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Little Boats must keep near Shore 
 
 Half a Loaf is better than no Bread . 
 
 Extremes Meet 
 
 Pride goeth before a Fall 
 
 There's many a Slip twixt the Cup and the Lip 
 
 A Bird in the Hand is worth two in the Bush . 
 
 It is no use Crying over Spilt Milk 
 
 Who never Climbed never Fell .... 
 
 It's an III Wind that Blows Nobody Good . 
 
 you may take a horse to the water 
 
 The more Hastf., the less Speed 
 
 Birds of a Feather flock Together 
 
 Desires are Nourished by Delays . 
 
 Never Buy a Pig in a Poke 
 
 Out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire 
 
 Too much of a Good Thing is Good for 
 Nothing 
 
 Many a Little makes a Micklf, 
 
 'Tis A Poor Heart that never Rejoices. 
 
 Opportunity makes the Thief 
 
 Lightly Come, Lightly Go 
 
 Old Birds are not to be caught by Chaff . 
 
 The Greatest Strokes make not the Sweetest Music 
 
 Every Couple is not a Pair 
 
 Too many Cooks spoil the Broth .... 
 
 PAGt 
 9 
 
 14 
 
 15 
 
 23 
 24 
 26 
 29 
 3° 
 32 
 
 33 
 35 
 

 The Early Bird catches 
 the Worm . . -5° 
 
 Bought Wit is Best. 
 Hear a' Parties 
 
 53 
 
 Be it ever so Humble, 
 there's no Place like 
 Home . . . -54 
 
 For that Thou canst do 
 Thyself . . -55 
 
 When all is Consumed . 56 
 
 Big Head, Little Wit . 57 
 
 Who touches Pitch will 
 be Defiled . . ■ 5S 
 
 When in Doubt Abstain 60 
 
 A Man of Straw . . 62 
 
 Coming Events . 63 
 
 
 — 
 
 e — t> e c e 
 
 1 t«- -=»© 
 
T~) ollixg shingle, 
 ^ Golden sands, 
 
 Sunshine ever) where ! 
 Mother's darlings crowd around, 
 
 Busy, fresh, and fair — 
 Tiny. vessels, on life's strand 
 Guided by love's watchful hand. 
 
 Children, keep ye close I say, 
 
 Keep ye near the smooth safe shore ! 
 
 Wait ere ye may venture more, 
 E'en on a summer's dav ! 
 
 With dainty dip 
 
 Above below, 
 
 Each mimic bark 
 
 Doth bravely go. 
 Young eyes so blue, 
 
 Blue eyes so bright, 
 All follow them 
 With fresh delight. 
 Follow the white sails gliding past, 
 Over the waters gliding. 
 
 Yet, children, keep you to the shore, 
 Like little boats with pennons gay ! 
 Only big ships venture more, 
 E'en on a summer's day ! 
 
Of tempests dark 
 
 Why should they dream, 
 While all is bright 
 
 With sunny gleam? 
 While rosy lips 
 
 In joyous glee 
 Defiance laugh 
 
 To that far sea. 
 So slowly, slowly rolling in, 
 So slowly rolling ever. 
 
 Yet, children, keep you near I say, 
 Near unto that sheltering bay : 
 'Twere not wise to venture more 
 E'en on a summer's day I 
 
 Dull angry clouds 
 
 Steal overhead : 
 Silver linings 
 
 Turned to lead. 
 Old sailors tell 
 
 Of shipwrecks near ; 
 Swift curlews shriek 
 
 Their message drear. 
 Yellow sands have changed to grey : 
 And the golden sunshine, where ? 
 
 Nearer sounds the sullen roar ! 
 
 Well for little boats on shore ! 
 
 111. if they have ventured more, 
 E'en on a summer's day ! 
 
 & 
 
 y 
 
T)oy and girl, 
 *-* A humble pair, 
 Live contented 
 Up the stair. 
 
 Two merry lively hungry chicks, ' 
 
 How joyously they laugh ; 
 You see, they have a yard long loaf 
 Their own, to cut in half. 
 Singing together — 
 '• You hold," 
 " I'll hold," 
 " I'll hold," 
 "You hold-" 
 Together 
 Cut the bread. 
 " New broad is sweet, 
 New bread is new, 
 New bread is quite a treat, 
 To me and you ! " 
 Perhaps they each could eat that loaf, but having half instead, 
 They thankful say that half a loaf is better than no bread. 
 
 Edward spoiled 
 
 By friends, a bear- 
 Velvet clad, 
 
 Lives down the stair. 
 
 "Oh dear! I feel so very faint, 
 It is a shame,'' sighs Ned, 
 " I surely soon must take that cake, 
 In spite of what was said. 
 For I cannot, 
 Shall not, 
 Will not, 
 Will not, 
 Shall not, 
 I cannot 
 Eat dry bread. 
 Dry bread is hard, 
 Dry bread is dry, 
 Dry bread I'll never like, 
 So 'tis no use to try." 
 See, there he stands with folded hands and discontented air 
 I'm very glad I'm not that boy who lives adown the stair 
 
 '3 
 
BOTTCMES 
 
 14 
 

 .i. 
 
 
 SOOTH BC-rORC 
 A PALL. 
 
 ■ 
 
 • 
 
 : 
 
 
 \ T Thy should I wear a frock so short 
 
 Without a single pocket? 
 Why not big bracelets made of steel, 
 A trailing dress, and locket ? 
 
 ; Mother is out, I'll try for once 
 Her things, at least a few.'' 
 So said, so done, up Jenny ran 
 To find old clothes and new. 
 
No skirt half long enough, or fine, 
 
 To suit my lady's taste, 
 Until a gold-embroidered shawl 
 
 Was fast about her waist. 
 
 i 
 
 She trailed it up and down the room, 
 'Crying, with upturned nose, 
 " How very grand indeed it is 
 
 To wear such handsome clothes ! 
 
 " How Ann would envy, could she know, 
 And Bell, that common thing ! " 
 The while she talked she added fast 
 Some ribbon, veil, or ring. 
 
 ,; Yet no one sees — I think I'll walk 
 Down in the long back lane ; 
 Not Jenny Brown, that's far too mean- 
 111 be 'my Lady Jane.''' 
 
 So down she strutted, proud and stiff. 
 
 Though no one chanced to pass : 
 Tall nodding sunflowers bent to mock 
 
 Tint vain and foolish lass. 
 
 " l'mph .' " said the pig, whose leaves she swept, 
 " L'mph, here's some dainty snack ! " 
 He caught the gold-embroidered train 
 
 Vet not at first, for fastened tight, 
 She followed in a hurry, 
 
 To tumble headlong in his sty, 
 Half dazed with fear and flurrv 
 
 16 
 
1 
 
 She sobbed, — but what cared he for that? 
 
 Pi;::gie, at home and merry. 
 He rolled upon that shawl so grand, 
 
 Now black as black-heart cherry. 
 
 He tore the veil, he munched the beads, 
 
 He trod upon her toes, 
 He touzlcd all her fine array 
 
 And swallowed half her bows. 
 
 Poor " Lady Jane " at last crept forth, 
 
 Nor uttered shout or call ; 
 Umph ! " sneered the pig, as though he knew 
 
 How pride had had a fall. 
 
 ■ac 
 
1 8 
 
TDeregrine Pickle's 
 
 In trouble, that's plain, 
 He's ever in trouble for very small gain. 
 See, the lid has tipped out, and the lad has tipped in, 
 Souse, into the water, right up to his chin. 
 For Peregrine Pickle had clambered, you sec, 
 To pillage the fruit of my best cherry-tree ; 
 But Peregrine Pickle made one sudden slip, 
 Although very near came the fruit to the lip. 
 Now, he's sticking quite fast, to be mocked at by Bet. 
 Poor Peregrine Pickle all cramped up and wet ! 
 His hands and his arms and his elbows a-quiver, 
 Like a mouse in a trap, see the naughty boy shiver. 
 Poor Peregrine Pickle may struggle and bawl, 
 If he kicks there much longer he'll certainly fall. 
 
 Yet Peregrine Pickle no pity can crave. 
 
 For he only appears as a light-fingered knave ; 
 
 Too cunning for honesty's straightforward way, 
 
 Or this had not happened, one bright summer day. 
 
 19 
 
m ' 
 
 
 ~C* ^ T 
 
 '/?•.- 
 
 *<r~i 
 
/^vne birdie in the hand, 
 ^^^ Two birdies in the tree, 
 One birdie all mine own, 
 That's the little bird for inc. 
 
5E CRY1MG Q 
 SPILT MILK 
 
 VEIR 
 
 DO not fret 
 For fretting ended. 
 Never bowl 
 
 Or platter mended. 
 Bind that finger, 
 
 Wipe that tear, 
 Next, more careful 
 
 Step, my dear. 
 And remember 
 
 What I say, 
 Milk, once spilt, 
 
 Is spilt for aye. 
 
ER FELL 
 
 A IX through life you'll find, dcai 
 
 If your aim be high, 
 Earth is easy reaching, 
 Far off is the sky. 
 
 Weeds and thorns are near us, 
 Stars shine far above, 
 Low, most things that harm us, 
 High, most things to love. 
 
 When your aim is noble, 
 Climb, nor stop for pain : 
 Climb, and if you're hinder'd, 
 Rise, and climb again. 
 
r 
 
 • 
 
 /^\n t \vard we come, we come, 
 ^^^ Dashing now here, now there, 
 
 Flying where'er we will, 
 In frolic wild and rare, 
 The mightiest king 
 On all the earth, 
 Cannot hold us strong winds still. 
 The forest leaves scatter as we come by, 
 The tall queen lily bends down to sigh, 
 While daisies and violets curtsey so low 
 We scarcely can reach where the wee things grow, 
 Yet we carry their scent over hamlet and wood ; 
 
 " 'Tis a very ill wind that blows nobody good. 
 
 Dear child, though we hurried your kite away, 
 We but bore it aloft in a game of play ; 
 What though we fluttered the roses fair ? 
 'Twas to paint your cheeks with their crimson rare : 
 What though we tore the ripe fruit from the tree ? 
 'Twas to please you, not tease you, my darling, you see ! 
 Wc go, we come, we go, 
 We fly where'er we will, 
 
 Though angered wc seldom do harm, 
 But rather good than ill. 
 As village lore says of our changeful mood, 
 
 " 'Tis a very ill wind that blows nobody good.' 
 
 ^<0 
 
 c i 
 
 k 
 
 
 <iy 
 
 pi 
 
 
LEAD 
 A" 
 E TO THE 
 
 BUT 
 
 00 ChUH 
 
 MAKE 
 
 IT 
 
 H 
 
 26 
 

 
 ""VT THAT can we do on this bright summer's day, 
 
 * And what may our frolic be ? 
 
 Shall we play at wild outlaws by Robin Hood led, 
 
 Just baby, and Bertie, and me ? 
 Or stay, here's old Dobbin — why, children, you know 
 We must gallop him off to the pond below." 
 
 Rattle and scamper — hurrah for the fun ! — 
 
 Three merry youngsters, see how they run ! 
 
 Fast go their heels, round go the wheels, 
 
 Old Dobbin says nothing of all that he feels ; 
 
 Yet in his one eye lurks a mischievous wink, 
 
 And brought to the water, old Dobbin won't drink.' 
 
 I— 
 
Sir Toadie lies low by yon mossy grey stone — 
 
 A worshipful toad is he I— 
 Of what does that solemn Sir Toadie dream ? 
 
 Hark, lie croaks to a passing bee 
 Watching the scene — the scolding and petting 
 A very queer steed on the bank is getting, 
 Now ordered, now asked, now begged, "just one drop 
 Next pushed all a hurry, it tumbles in — flop ! 
 Nidding and nodding his wise old head. 
 These are the words that the toad has said : 
 " Many may lead to the fair river's brink, 
 But a horse must will, ere thev make him drink. 
 
 
The )t, 
 
 aste 
 
 •■ Ouch a price we will ask for the turnips, 
 
 The parsley, and apples, and beans, 
 When we bring her a bag full of money, 
 Gran will wonder what all of it means!'' 
 
 But time and intentions are wasted, 
 
 Because they ne'er stop to take heed, 
 Forgetting that proverb reminding 
 It is often ''more haste and less speed." 
 
 29 
 
3° 
 
r 
 
 t 
 
 
 RDS 
 
 O 
 
 J> 
 
 WOODLAND birdie, 
 Tell me, sweet, 
 Why do you fly- 
 To Ella's fecti- 
 
 A 
 
 Why gladly haste., 
 
 With fond caress, 
 Gainst her pure cheek's 
 Soft bloom to press ? 
 By what strange charm, 
 Oh radiant dove, 
 May you divine 
 
 And trust my love ? 
 " The magic hers," 
 
 Coos woodland bird 
 In gentlest notes 
 
 One ever heard : 
 "A tender touch, 
 
 A smile as true 
 As scent of blossoms 
 Tipped with dew; 
 
 A modest grace, 
 
 All wiles above — 
 These are her spells : 
 
 Her charm is — Love ! 
 
 
 A 
 
 hfHl\ 
 

 U T\l S \\ E p 
 
 T T Off first we long for springtide sweet, 
 
 And next for rosy June ; 
 How then we wish for harvest ripe, 
 When all the world' s a-tune ; 
 
 Joyous we greet the winter months, 
 Though cold the Ice-King blows, 
 
 And sternly chills to silent fear 
 Each brooklet as it flows ; 
 
 Fair sight to see 'em while we seek 
 For snowdrop buds with their promise meek. 
 So well may ancient wisdom say, 
 ''Desires are nourished by delay." 
 
BL v a pig ! a big pig, 
 A pig a perfect model ! 
 Well worth a prize for size and weight, 
 
 In fact can scarcely waddle, 
 I will sell him cheap, just a silver crown 
 
 Buys the pig and the poke, if the money's down. 
 But he is so heavy, so busy am I, 
 Really I will not the bag untie, 
 ' Hey-day,' two little folks say, 
 ' Shall we spend our crown in this promising way.' 
 
 They give him their crown, that country 
 cheat, 
 Who laughs as he tumbles the bag at 
 their feet, 
 While lookers on cry, " Tis a very poor 
 joke, 
 But you never should purchase 'a pig 
 in a poke.' " 
 
 34 
 
©UT OF 
 
 FRYI 
 
 it, 1 
 
 Sb 
 
 feK 
 
 35 
 
T CAN mix the batter, 
 
 You may stir the cake. 
 I can put in milk. 
 
 You, give the whole a shake, 
 Then up, up, up, 
 
 Toss the pancake higher, 
 Up, up, up, 
 
 Oh dear, it's in the fire '. 
 
 Out tumbles puppy Flo, 
 Off tears Kitty Clover. 
 Shrieking as they go, 
 That the drops run over. 
 
 For down, down, down, 
 
 The hot cake falls unsteady, 
 Down, down, down, 
 A cinder 'tis already. 
 
 Oh, why. when things are good 
 
 Should they be improving ? 
 Why, when all is well, 
 
 Must some folk be moving ? 
 And up, up, up, 
 
 Fling their cake still higher, 
 Till the pan once missed, 
 It settles in the fire. 
 
 =3L,^S 
 
 36 . 
 
TOO 
 
 Hy£H 
 
 or 
 
 A COOD THONC 
 
 ^ 
 
 37 
 
OXE summer's day, a shining sun, 
 One daisy near, a love of fun, 
 One open door, a tempting peep, 
 One stool anigh, a cat asleep. 
 
 One tiny girl, a pan of cream, 
 One sudden fall, a noisy scream. 
 
 One bump so hard, a poor bruised head, 
 One brother near, kind loving Fred. 
 
 One pan pushed by, 
 
 A stream of milk, 
 One frock all spoiled, 
 
 A best blue silk. 
 One gasping sob, 
 
 A tender kiss, 
 One very sorry — 
 
 Naughty miss. 
 
 One close big hug, 
 
 A laughing scold, 
 One smile to cheer, 
 
 A promise bold, 
 One proverb true, 
 
 A listening ear, 
 " Too much ot aught 
 
 Is naught," my dear. 
 
 3S 
 
5M,& 
 
 mVAmi A 
 
 UTTtE MWP 
 
 
 
 39 
 
"C'ACH merry lightsome downy flake. 
 ■*— ' So small that few can see, 
 May join to form a rolling mound 
 Bigger than you or me. 
 
 Von little brick a child may toss 
 
 As useless from his way, 
 When piled with others forms a wall 
 
 To keep the foe away. 
 
 Old Grandam Fortune may be blind, 
 
 And spare us but a little. 
 Yet little stored and added to 
 
 Will surely make a mickle. 
 
 40 
 
SUCH a lovely sight ! 
 Such a tree to-night ! 
 Holly and dolly and candle-light ! 
 
 -M 
 
^ 
 
 Opportunity rnaKes" 
 th.e 
 
 A CHIRP, a chick, a chee, 
 I would not steal a pea — 
 Not me — nor me — nor me, 
 A chick, a chirp, a chee," 
 Cry dickies in a tree 
 Where no green peas can be, 
 And honest birds so free, 
 Sing opportuni-tee. 
 
 But Molly, careless lass, 
 Chancing quite near to pass, 
 Puts down her bowl awry, 
 And runs to Tom hard by. 
 " We see — we see — we see — 
 All may pick up a pea. 
 And honest birds still be, 
 Sing opportuni-tee." 
 
 42 
 
y 
 
 IGHTLY 
 
 y 
 
 OME 
 
 V 
 
 IGHTLY 
 
 P ( 
 
 GONE, gone, gone ! 
 See it floating so fair and free ; 
 Light come, light go — oh ! my pretty toy, 
 Will it never return to me ? 
 
 Gone, gone, gone ! 
 
 Up in the skies so far ; 
 What will happen to yonder ball, 
 
 Should it chance to be caught in a star ? 
 
 Gone, gone, gone ! 
 
 Perhaps to the man in the moon ; 
 What will he fancy the earth has sent 
 
 Through the clouds of a summer noon ? 
 
 Gone, gone, gone ! 
 
 Flown for ever and aye ; 
 Who shall follow its lightsome track, 
 
 Or tell of its onward way ? 
 
 +3 
 
/RE j\!Q 
 
 TO BE 
 
 C/WGHT 
 
 by 
 
 CHAFF 
 
 HA 
 
 IF I could meet a pretty bird, I have a tale to tell, 
 A tale I know he'd love to hear, I've conn'd it over well." 
 " Here is a bird — two simple birds — so linger on your way, 
 What would you have us listen to on this bright summer's day ? ' 
 
 " I know a house all built of gold, and piled with seed so sweet, 
 
 It only waits those lucky birds to flutter in and eat." 
 
 " We've seen a house — just such a house — t'was called by some ' a cage,' 
 
 'Tis not the sort of nesting-place that we would fain engage." 
 
 " I'd take those birds, those pretty birds, and show them to the King ; 
 And Queen and courtiers would attend to hear those birdies sing." 
 " We don't believe — she don't believe — my darling mate nor I, 
 That King or Queen would get a chance — you'd bake us in a pie." 
 
 " Come down, and do not chirp such things, but think i mean you well, 
 Small birds have been to court before, as nursery legends tell." 
 " Not wee brown birds, mere tiny things, unlike the twenty-four 
 That once before his majesty — sang out a merry score." 
 
 " Come down, my sweets, come down, my dears, 
 
 Your feathers I would see ; 
 I'll treat you both with something nice — 
 
 I have it here with me." 
 " We may be sweets, we may be dears. 
 
 But we're too old by half 
 To listen to your flattering tale. 
 
 Or to be caught by chaff." 
 
 4+ 
 
45 
 
RUB-A-DUB-DUB on kettle and pan ; 
 Rub-a-dub-dub, make music who can. 
 Our gay little party all sing out of tune : 
 Tom of puss in the corner, and Ned of sweet June, 
 While on the pail, drumming, Joe strikes with a will, 
 Loud chanting the story of Jack and of Jill. 
 
 Music you call it ! I hear but a noise ; 
 But noise is sweet music to small girls and boys. 
 Patience, grown people, rememher the day 
 When you were but children, and rattled away 
 With a rub-a-dub-dub on kettle and pan, 
 Rub-a-dub-dub, making music who can. 
 
 -^ 
 
E R Y 
 
 C U PL 
 
 T 
 
 WO ; 
 
 A sturdy boot, and a wee, wee shoe — 
 Soft wonder of wool, just as light and sweet 
 As its baby wearer's pinky feet ; 
 It moves in a world of infant blisses, 
 Treads light on a path bestrewn with kisses. 
 Careless and aimless, yet eager to stand, 
 Dear little foot on this new-found land. 
 
 The other ; — ah, me ! in the by-and-by 
 
 Its wearer may glance at that shoe with a sigh, 
 
 To think of the time when its faded hue 
 
 Bloom'd, fresh from the hands of the tried and true ; 
 
 To think how a mother's safe finger led 
 
 O'er the path that has grown all so hard to tread ; 
 
 Then, baby unwitting was never afraid ; 
 
 Now, baby grown man knows how much he needs aid. 
 
 
 47 
 
48 
 
SEE our Harry, Rosie, Lil — 
 Restless darlings — never still 
 In and out all day they run — 
 Little people, full of fun — 
 
 Rosie, Lil, and Harry. 
 
 " Here's a lovely pan ! " they cry- 
 Mary, maid, has set it by — 
 " Let us all, while no one looks, 
 Play at being real cooks — 
 Lillie, Rosie, Harry. 
 
 " Tie on aprons, big and brown ; 
 Careful, lift the old pot down ; 
 Now we'll nicely fill it up ; 
 Stir it girls, and take a sup — 
 Harry, Lil, and Rosie. 
 
 Not quite nice — pour pepper hot, 
 Oil and treacle in the pot ; 
 Salt and coffee ; apples too — 
 Pop this one into the stew " — 
 Rosie, Lil, and Harry. 
 
 In goes all, from peas to paint — 
 Well may Mary all but faint. 
 Well may she declare, quite wroth, 
 '• Many cooks do spoil the brotli "— 
 Harry, Rosie, Lillie. 
 
 49 
 
5° 
 
v. V 
 
 V- 
 
COME here, my boy, with fingers torn 
 By startled crab this summer's morn. 
 What need to poke, what need to pry 
 In every hole as you came by ? 
 A nip like that is no nice jest ;' 
 But it may teach, " Bought wit is best." 
 
 Old Hermit hid;s in many a shell ; 
 Full strange the wonders he could tell 
 Of wind and wave, of land and sea, 
 Of tangles rare, of sunshine free. 
 He wanders off from east to west, 
 By perils taught, " Bought wit is best." 
 
 He finds a house whelk calls her own, 
 One moment left, that she might roam ; 
 He's on the watch — that traveller bold — 
 And she, poor thing ! out in the cold ; 
 For Hermit quick pops in with zest — 
 " Your lodging's mine — ' Bought wit is best. ; 
 
"W5 
 
 the matter ? 
 Wha's the clatter ? 
 Why sic angry host ? 
 Wha's a' the affront, my hearties ? 
 I'll be judge an' hear a' parties," 
 
 Hoots the owl. 
 In a minute Madam Linnet shrill cries she, 
 With a tittle, tattle, tee, 
 " To chirp such things of me, me, me ! 
 / that never, never gossip — no ; 
 Though, of course, things I do know — 
 See such flying to and fro 
 iTi nests near mine, and pluming, oh ! 
 But there, my chitter, chatter, chee ! " 
 Wisely nodded she. All the birdies pressing round, 
 Shriek, " Titter, tatter, tee ! 
 It is really shameful, horrid ! 
 Such conduct in our tree ! 
 Not that we care one feather 
 For scandal." " Sae I see," quoth the owl — 
 
 Wise old fowl. 
 
Be xt ever ,so Vi u rr^t; te. 
 
 tKfreV 
 
 no 
 
 place 
 
 like 
 
 AS thrills yon little woodland bird, 
 In notes of thankful, happy glee, 
 Charming the air with music soft, 
 Far echoing o'er the lea, 
 
 H 
 
 onve 
 
 He does but sing an old, old song. 
 He does but tell an old, old story, 
 
 Vet one for ever fondly heard 
 Of love's true glory. 
 
 Sweet love, that bides in humblest nest. 
 
 And makes that lowly home the best. 
 
 54 
 
FOR TH AT T H 
 OANtT 
 
 THYSELF 
 
 UPON ANOTHER. 
 
A PROVERB sad, 
 •iV And yet too true — 
 
 
 
 'Tis meant for me, 
 
 
 'Tis meant for you. 
 
 
 It warns us, try 
 
 
 To live our best. 
 
 
 If in the end 
 
 
 We would have rest. 
 
 
 It bids each wisely 
 
 
 Rule his fate, 
 
 
 Nor let repentance 
 
 
 Come too late. 
 
 
 
 W\erv jjj- 
 
 
 '* S^jp^ 
 
 
 coT^?UVrj/?d 
 
 
 j l^/Jeiatctrvce 
 
 
 /~ — f/ V. <# 
 
 
 s^^ sL-- --— ~i^-Z}#. 
 
 co T s "\\ 
 V 
 
 
 too late. 
 
 56 
 
" T) IG head— little wit." 
 
 J-' Adage true for one of wood. 
 " Little head — never a bit.'' 
 
 That's another just as good. 
 
 57 
 
yiM Ttfuctyrs Tstch 
 Mi be 
 
 ctefjled 
 
 As fresh as a rose 
 To school Ned goes, 
 Dress'd in the best 
 Of his week-day clothes. 
 
 F/en the butterflies say. as he passes by, 
 " What a trim-wing'd laddie is walking nigh 
 
* ^n^^^H 
 
 'Tis a tempting post 
 Hides a very black pot, 
 Till our unlucky Ned 
 Rolls it over — all hot. 
 
 Then butterflies whisper, 'mid flutter and scare. 
 
 " Oh, what a specklety laddie sits there ! " 
 
 59 
 
6o 
 
ONE more, 
 Another floor — 
 Watch our castle rising ; 
 See how tall and firm it stands, 
 Isn't that surprising? 
 
 ^ 
 
 One more 
 On these four, 
 
 Yes or no— place it so — 
 Shall I ? — tell me — can it stand? 
 
 Dear, 1 scarcely know. 
 
 One more — 
 Down they pour, 
 
 Wall and tower ; plain, 
 There is truth in that old saw, 
 
 " When in doubt, abstain." 
 
 ^T^ 
 
 61 
 
FLINCH and Goldie, 
 A Redpole fine, 
 
 
 
 In the cornfield 
 
 
 Came to dine. 
 
 
 "Oh ! what is that?" 
 
 
 They startled cry 
 
 
 All in a flutter 
 
 
 Rushing by. 
 
 
 " Look, silly birds, . 
 
 
 And you will know 
 
 
 It cannot hurt," 
 
 
 Cawed Father Crow. 
 
 
 " Tis but a thing 
 
 
 'Gainst nature's law, 
 
 
 Only a sham — 
 
 
 ' A man of straw.' " 
 
 
 
 ^t 
 
 
 <J|L 
 
 
 ^^^S^^ 
 
 
 '** 1t\ ^ 
 
 
 mm 
 
 
 S^^k 
 
 
 U/j ^\\-, 
 
 
 a/ J '_^~r~Kur 
 
 
 
 
 Straw 
 
 62 
 
CAST 
 HEIR SHADO* 
 
 B EfOEE 
 
 63 
 
Printers \ MESSRS ' l Ml KR0NHEIM & CO., Pages I to S and 4, to 64. 
 
 CLAY, SON & TAYLOR 
 
 64 
 

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