sit.

Poor Growler! do not make him go
But recollect, before,
That he has never serv'd you so,
For you have given him many a blow
That patiently he bore.

Poor Growler! if he could speak,
He'd tell, (as well he might,)
How he would bear with many a freak,
And wag his tail and look so meek,
And neither bark nor bite.

Clever Little Thomas.

When Thomas Poole first went to school,
He was but scarcely seven;
Yet knew as well to read and spell,
As most boys of eleven.

[Illustration]

He took his seat, and wrote quite neat,
And never idly acted;
And then, beside, he multiplied,
Divided and subtracted.

His master said, (and strok'd his head),
"If thus you persevere,
"My little friend you may depend
"Upon a Prize next year."

[Illustration]

SULKING.

Why is Mary standing idle,
Leaning down upon the table,
With pouting lip, and frowning brow?
I wonder what's the matter now!

Come here, my dear, and tell me true,
Is it because I scolded you
For doing work so bad and slow,
That you are standing sulking so?

Why then, indeed, I'm griev'd to see,
That you can so ill-temper'd be;
You make your faults a great deal worse,
By being angry and perverse.

O, how much better it appears,
To see you melting into tears,
And then to hear you humbly say,
I'll not do so another day.

But when you stand and sulk about,
And look so cross, and cry and pout,
Why that, my little girl, you know,
Is _worse_ than working bad and slow.

[Illustration]

GIVING WITH PRUDENCE.

I see, Mama, said little Jane,
A beggar coming down the lane;
O, let me take him (may not I?)
This cheese-cake and some currant pie.

Your charity I much approve,
And something you may take him, love;
But let it be some bread and cheese,
Much better than such things as these.

By giving sweetmeats to the poor
Who never tasted them before,
We spoil the good we have in view,
And teach them wants they never knew.

[Illustration]

THE FIELD DAISY.

I'm a pretty little thing,
Always coming with the spring,
In the meadows green I'm found
Peeping just above the ground,
And my stalk is cover'd flat,
With a white and yellow hat
Little lady, when you pass
Lightly o'er the tender grass,
Skip about, but do not tread
On my meek and healthy head
For I always seem to say,
Chilly winter's gone away.

THE MOUSE.

[Illustration]

O come brother come;
I'm frightened, because
There's