that _he had the honor of first
teaching your "young ideas how to shoot!_"

Won't that be fun? Oh, I tell you, Moses! Fanny has seen some strange
specimens of human nature. Still she tells you, (with tears in her
eyes,) that the Master above is the "friend of the friendless;" and
_you_ must believe it too, my little darling, and wait, and _trust_.

LITTLE FREDDY'S MUSINGS.

Wish my mamma would please keep me warm. My little bare legs are very
cold with these lace ruffles; they are not half as nice as black Jim's
woolen stockings. Wish I had a little pair of warm rubbers. Wish I had
a long-sleeved apron, for my bare neck and arms. Wish I might push my
curls out of my eyes, or have them cut off. Wish my dress would stay up
on my shoulders, and that it was not too nice for me to get on the
floor to play ninepins. Wish my mamma would go to walk with me
sometimes, instead of Betty. Wish she would let me lay my cheek to
hers, (if I would not tumble her curls, or her collar.) Wish she would
not promise me something "very nice," and then forget all about it.
Wish she would answer my questions, and not always say, "Don't bore me,
Freddy!" Wish when we go out in the country, she wouldn't make me wear
my gloves, lest I should "tan my hands." Wish she would not tell me
that all the pretty flowers will "poison me." Wish I could tumble on
the hay, and go into the barn and see how Dobbin eats his supper. Wish
I was one of those little frisky pigs. Wish I could make pretty dirt
pies. Wish there was not a bit of lace, or satin, or silk, in the
world. Wish I knew what makes mamma look so smiling at Aunt Emma's
children, (who come here in their papa's carriage,) and so very cross
at my poor little cousins, whose mother works so hard and cries so
much. Wish I knew what makes the clouds stay up in the sky, and where
the stars go in the day time. Wish I could go over on that high hill,
where the bright sun is going down, and just touch it with my finger.
Wish I didn't keep thinking of things which puzzle me, when nobody will
stop to tell me the reason for anything. If I ask Betty, she says,
"Don't be a fool, Master Freddy!" I wonder if I am a fool? I wonder if
Betty knows much herself? I wonder why my mamma don't love her own
little boy? I wonder when I'm grown a man, if I shall have to look so
nice all the time, and be so tired of doing nothing?

ONLY A PENNY.

Now I am going to tell you a story about little Clara. Tho