ars do run
Fast from her watery 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.

A VERY GOOD BOY.

Mama, my head (poor William said)
So very badly aches,
Tell Brother there, I cannot bear
The tiresome noise he makes.

[Illustration]

I'm sure, said John, if I had known,
Dear Brother, you were ill,
I would have read, or drawn, instead,
And have remain'd quite still.

Good boys, said she, O ever be
Thus kind to one another;
I am, my dear, much pleased to hear
Your answer to your Brother.

[Illustration]

THE PLUM CAKE.

Let us buy,
Said Sally Fry;
Something nice,
Said Betsy Price;
What shall it be?
Said Kitty Lee;
A nice plum cake,
Said Lucy Wake.

A piece for me,
Said Kitty Lee;
A slice I'll take,
Said Lucy Wake;
Give me a slice,
Said Betsy Price;
All by-and-by,
Said Sally Fry.

I'll save some cake,
Said Lucy Wake;
And so will I,
Said Sally Fry;
Well, I'll agree,
Said Kitty Lee;
'Twill do for twice,
Said Betsy Price.

A piece with ice,
Said Betsy Price;
I'll put some by,
Said Sally Fry;
The third for me,
Said Kitty Lee;
The fourth I'll take
Said Lucy Wake.

[Illustration]

THE GIDDY GIRL.

Miss Helen was always too giddy to heed
What her mother had told her to shun;
For frequently, over the street in full speed,
She would cross where the carriages run.

And out she would go to a very deep well,
To look at the water below;
How naughty! to run to a dangerous well,
Where her mother forbade her to go!

One morning, intending to take but one peep,
Her foot slipt away from the ground;
Unhappy misfortune! the water was deep,
And giddy Miss Helen was drown'd.

THE FLOWER AND THE LITTLE MISS.

About getting up.

[Illustration]

Pretty Flower, tell me why
All your leaves do open wide,
Every morning, when on high
The noble sun begins to ride?

This is why, my lady fair,
If you would the reason know,
For betimes the pleasant air
Very cheerfully doth blow.

And the birds on every tree
Sing a merry, merry tune;
And the busy honey bee
Comes to suck my sugar soon.

This is all the reason why
I my little leaves undo.
Little Miss, come wake and try,
If I have not told you true.

[Illustration]

THE KITE.

John White
Flew his kit