Aunt Kitty's Stories Part 2

FOUR LITTLE BOYS.

Come, let us play, Said Tommy Gay; Well, then, What at Said Simon Pratt; At trap and ball, Said Neddy Hall; Well, so we will, Said Billy Gill.

For cakes I'll play, Said Tommy Gay; I'm one for that, Said Simon Pratt; I'll bring them all, Said Neddy Hall; And I'll sit still, Said Billy Gill.

What a hot day, Said Tommy Gay; Then let us chat, Said Simon Pratt; On yonder hill, Said Billy Gill; Aye, one and all, Said Neddy Hall.

Come with me, pray, Said Tommy Gay; Trust me for that, Said Simon Pratt; They eat them all, Gay, Pratt, and Hall; And all were ill, But Billy Gill.

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The Little Fish that would not do as it was bid.

Dear mother, said a little Fish, Pray, is not that a fly?

I'm very hungry, and I wish You'd let me go and try.

Sweet innocent, the mother cried, And started from her nook, That horrid fly is put to hide The sharpness of the hook!

Now, as I've heard, this little Trout Was young and foolish too, And so he thought he'd venture out, To see if it were true.

And round about the hook he played, With many a longing look, And, Dear me, to himself he said I'm sure, that's not a _hook_.

I can but give one little pluck: Let's see; and so I will.

So on he went, and lo, it stuck Quite through his little gill.

And as he faint and fainter grew, With hollow voice he cried, Dear mother, if I'd minded you, I need not now have died.

Thoughtless Julia.

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Julia did in the window stand; Mama then sitting by, Saw her put out her little hand, And try to catch a fly.

O do not hurt the pretty thing, Her prudent mother said; Crush not its leg or feeble wing, So beautifully made.

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YOUNG SOLDIERS.

Hey, rub-a-dub, dub! here come the boys, For the Soldiers all make way; Young Robinet at their head is set All dressed as warrior gay.

See how he swings his bright tin sword, To his followers behind; While from his cap a squirrel's tail Flies streaming in the wind.

This is good fun, my merry boys, To see you I am glad; But mind you, in reality, War is a business bad.--

Here's old Ben Bolt, a soldier brave, Who lost his legs in war; With crutch and cane, he hobbles 'round And shows you many a scar.

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In scenes of fearful blood and strife, Ah! many low are lain, And many a young and gallant heart Is numbered with the slain.

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LEARNING BY HEART.

'Tis time that my baby should learn What so oft he has heard, to repeat, So shall he some sugar-plums earn; Then let us begin, my Sweet.

For baby is three years old, And has senses and memory too, A great many things he's been told, And he can remember a few.

He can tell me, I know, a few things, Of the garden, the sky, and the weather; That a bird has two legs and two wings, But he cannot say ten lines together.

Then let us, my baby, begin, And try these few lines here to learn, It will not be a difficult thing, And then he'll some sugar-plums earn.

IMPROVEMENT.

Another story, Mother dear, Did young Maria say; You read so nice, so loud and clear,-- Another story, pray.

I love that book, I do indeed, So take it up again; I think I _see_ the things you read, You make it all so plain.

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What would I give to read like you, Why nothing comes amiss!

O, any thing I'll gladly do, If you will teach me this.

Maria, then, must learn to spell, If she would read like me; She soon may learn to read as well; O, that I will, said she.