r big toe, and it would never get hurt;
You could kick up the sand, you could play in the dirt.

But it's oh! and it's ah! It's alack! and alas!
Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!

Oh, what could you do, and what would you say
If you lived in the pantry all night and all day?
You could say it was jolly, and splendid, and nice;
You could eat all the jelly, and frighten the mice.
You could taste the preserves, you could nibble the cheese--
You could smell the red pepper, and sit down and sneeze.

But it's oh! and it's ah! It's alack! and alas!
Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!

Oh, what could you do if you lived under ground?
You could ride Mr. Mole and go galloping round;
You could hear the black cricket a-playing his fife,
For to quiet the baby and please his dear wife.
You could hear the green grasshopper frying his meat,
Near the nest of the June-Bug under the wheat.
You could get all the goobers and artichokes, too--
You could peep from the window the grub-worm went through.

But it's oh! and it's ah! It's alack! and alas!
Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!

"Oh, I think that is splendid," cried Sweetest Susan.

"Mr. Rabbit doesn't like it much," replied Mrs. Meadows, "but I tell
him it is pretty good for children that were raised in a
Looking-Glass."

"It will do very well," remarked Mr. Rabbit, "but you'll hear nicer
songs by the time you are as old as I am."

"Dem ar white chillun done mighty well," said Drusilla, "but I don't
like de way dat ar nigger gal hilt her head."

"Do they have to stay in the looking-glass?" asked Buster John. "If
they do I'm sorry for them."

"I ain't sorry fer dat black gal," said Drusilla spitefully. "She too
ugly ter suit me."

"Whose fault is it but yours?" cried Chickamy Crany Crow.

"Yes, whose fault is it?" cried Tickle-My-Toes.

"Come, come!" cries Mrs. Meadows. "We want no trouble here."

"We'll not trouble her," answered Tickle-My-Toes. "Old
Rawhead-and-Bloody-Bones will do the troubling."

"Now you all heah dat!" exclaimed Drusilla, in some alarm. "I ain't
pesterin' nobody, an' I ain't doin' nothin' 't all. Ef I can't talk I
des ez well quit livin'. I'm gwine home, I am, an' ef I can't fin' de
way, den I'll know who'll have ter answer fer it."

"Well, if you go," said Mrs. Meadows, "you'll have company. The other
black girl will have