Aunt Kitty's Stories Part 7

"The Squirrel is happy, the Squirrel is gay,"

Little Mary once said to her brother; "He has nothing to do, or think of but play, And to jump from one bough to another."

The Squirrel, dear Mary, is merry and wise, For true wisdom and joy go together; He lays up in Summer his Winter supplies, And then he don't mind the cold weather.

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THE SHEEP.

Lazy Sheep, pray tell me why In the pleasant fields you lie, Eating gra.s.s and daisies white, From the morning till the night?

Every thing can something do, But what kind of use are you?

Nay, my little master, nay, Do not serve me so, I pray; Don't you see the wool that grows On my back, to make your clothes?

Cold, and very cold you'd get, If I did not give you it.

True, it seems a pleasant thing To nip the daisies in the spring, But many chilly nights I pa.s.s On the cold and dewy gra.s.s, Or pick a scanty dinner where All the common's brown and bare.

Then the farmer comes at last, When the merry spring is past, And cuts my woolly coat away, To warm you in the winter's day; Little master, this is why In the pleasant fields I lie.

A PRESENT FOR ALFRED.

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Dear Alfred, I've a gift for you, A present from your Aunt; A prayer-book. Can you read it through?

Said Alfred--No, I can't.

But if I teach you, will you try To learn, and sit quite still?

And with your utmost power apply?

Said Alfred--Yes, I will.

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THE FAIRING.

Oh dear! what a beautiful Doll My sister has bought at the fair!

She says I must call it "Miss Poll,"

And make it a bonnet to wear.

O pretty new Doll! it looks fine; Its cheeks are all cover'd with red; But, pray, will it always be mine?

And, pray, may I take it to bed?

How kind was my sister to buy This Dolly, with hair that will curl!

Perhaps, if you want to know why, She'll tell you I've been a good girl.

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THE GOOD BOY.

When Philip's good mama was ill, The servant begg'd he would be still.

Because the doctor and the nurse Had said that noise would make her worse.

At night, when Philip went to bed, He kiss'd mama, and whisp'ring said, "My dear mama, I never will Make any noise when you are ill."

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MISS SOPHIA.

Miss Sophy, one fine sunny day, Left her work and ran away: When soon she reach'd the garden gate, Which finding lock'd, she would not wait, But tried to climb and scramble o'er A gate as high as any door.

Now little girls should never climb, And Sophy won't another time, For when upon the highest rail Her frock was caught upon a nail, She lost her hold, and, sad to tell, Was hurt and bruis'd--for down she fell.

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PRETTY PUSS.

Come, pretty Cat!

Come here to me!

I want to pat You on my knee.

Go, naughty Tray!

By barking thus, You'll drive away, My pretty Puss.

POLITENESS.