tired of 'don'ts'," said Margaret B,
"Just as tired of don'ts' as I can be,
For it's 'don't' do this, and 'don't' do that,
'Don't' worry the dog,' don't' scare the cat,
'Don't' be untidy, and 'don't' be vain,
'Don't' interrupt, 'don't' do it again,
'Don't' bite your nails, 'don't' gobble your food,
'Don't' speak so loud, it's dreadfully rude,
'Don't' mumble your words, 'don't' say 'I won't,'
Oh! all day long it's nothing but 'don't'!
Some time or other I hope--'don't' you?--
Some one or other will say, 'Please DO'!"

[Illustration]

A NATURAL INQUIRY.

BOBBIE. "WHAT DOES IT COST TO MAKE A LETTER GO?"

POSTMAN. "TWO CENTS."

BOBBIE. "DON'T YOU TAKE 'EM FOR CHILDREN AT HALF PRICE?"

[Illustration]

HIS FIRST VIEW OF AN ELEPHANT.

ELDER BROTHER. "LOOK AT HIS TAIL, JIMMY, LOOK AT HIS TAIL!"

JIMMY. "WHICH ONE, BOB; DE ONE BEFORE OR DE ONE BEHIND?"

CHANGING THE SUBJECT.

"Frances," said a mamma, severely, to her seven-year-old daughter.

"Yes'm."

"Who made all these colored crayon marks on the parlor wall paper?"

"Mamma," replied Frances, "did you know that Mrs. Dicer called to see
you while you were out?"

"Frances, I want to know who put all those marks on the parlor wall."

"Mamma, I think some of the little girls on this street are very bad.
Lucy Bunting ran off with my doll."

"Frances, I don't want to discuss Lucy Bunting. I want to know who made
all those dreadful marks, and spoiled the wall paper."

"Mamma, you ought to have seen my little kitty run up the tree just
before you came home. She went almost to the top."

"I don't care anything about the kitty, Frances. What I want to know is
about this paper in the parlor, which is covered with red and yellow
marks."

"Mamma, what do you think would be a nice birthday present for papa?"

"Now, Frances, listen to me! Who made those marks on the parlor wall?"

"Oh, mamma," sobbed Frances, "why do you keep talking about the parlor
wall paper when you see me trying so hard to change the subject?"

PAPA. "Who has put all these ink spots on my desk?"

BOBBY. "Why, papa, those are not ink spots; it's a letter which I wrote
to you."

PAPA. "Jack, how did you get that lump on your forehead?"

BOBBY. "Jack hit me with a stick."

PAPA. "Did you strike him back?"

BOBBY. "No."

PAPA. "That was quite right."

BOBBY. "Because I hit him first."

"What makes the baby cry so?"