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 p