Aunt Kitty's Stories Part 10

And when you're good and do not cry Nor into wicked pa.s.sion fly, You can't think how papa and I Love baby.

But, if my little girl should grow To be a naughty child, I know 'Twould grieve mama to serve her so, My baby.

And when you saw me pale and thin, By grieving for my baby's sin, I think, you'd wish that you had been A better baby.

Good Little Fred.

When little Fred was call'd to bed He always acted right; He kiss'd Mama, and then Papa, And wish'd them both good night.

He made no noise, like naughty boys But quietly up stairs Directly went, when he was sent, And always said his prayers.

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THE DIZZY GIRL.

As Frances was playing, and turning around, Her head grew so giddy, she fell to the ground; 'Twas well that she was not much hurt: But, O what a pity! her frock was so soiled, That had you beheld the unfortunate child, You had seen her all covered with dirt.

Her mother was sorry, and said, Do not cry, And Mary shall wash you, and make you quite dry, If you'll promise to turn round no more.

What, not in the parlor? the little girl said: No, not in the parlor; for lately I read, Of a girl who was hurt with the door.

She was playing and turning, until her poor head Fell against the hard door, and it very much bled, And I heard Dr. Camomile tell, That he put on a plaster, and covered it up, Then he gave her some tea, that was bitter to sup, Or perhaps it had never been well.

NEAT LITTLE CLARA.

Little Clara, come away, Little Clara, come and play; Leave your work, Maria's here, So come and play with me, my dear.

I will come, and very soon, For I always play at noon, But must put my work away, Ere with you I come and play.

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First my bodkin I must place With my needle in their case; I like to put them by with care And then I always find them there.

There's my cotton, there's my thread, Thimble in its little bed; All is safe--my box I lock, Now I come--'tis twelve o'clock.

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HINTY, MINTY.

Hinty, Minty, Irish maid, Picks roses sweet in briar's shade; On higher briar, by the rock, Are ten Sparrows in a flock, That sit and sing By cooling spring, When shoot one! shoot two!

Comes sportsman Tom in jacket blue.

O, U, T--out!--away they go on nimble wings, Over the hills, And through the dells, Where Minty dwells, With many pretty things.

Yet strike one! strike two!

From out the flock, eight only flew, And two are now but game.

O, cruel Tom, let birdies be, And blithely sing from bush and tree.

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Come here, my bonnie, Come here to me; Rosy cheeked apples You shall have three-- All full of honey, They dropped from the tree, Like your bonny self-- All the sweeter that they're wee.

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CARELESS MARIA.

Maria was a careless child, And grieved her friends by this: Where'er she went, Her clothes were rent, Her hat and bonnet spoiled, A careless little miss.

Her gloves and mits were often lost, Her tippet sadly soiled; You might have seen Where she had been, For toys all round were tossed, O what a careless child.

One day her uncle bought a toy, That round and round would twirl, But when he found The littered ground, He said, I don't tee-totums buy For such a careless girl.

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THE PARROT.

Sweet Poll! his doting mistress cries, Sweet Poll! the mimic bird replies And calls aloud for sack.

She next instructs him in the kiss, 'Tis now a little one, like Miss,-- And now a hearty smack!