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PLAYING WITH FIRE.

I've seen a little girl, mama, That had got such a dreadful scar, All down her arms, and neck, and face, I could not bear to see the place.

Poor little girl, and don't you know The shocking trick that made her so?

'Twas all because she went and did A thing her mother had forbid.

For, once, when n.o.body was by her, This silly child would play with fire; And long before her mother came, Her pin-a-fore was all in flame!

In vain she tried to put it out, 'Till all her clothes were burnt about, And then she suffered ten times more, All over with the dreadful sore.

For many months, before 'twas cured, Most shocking torments she endured; And even now in pa.s.sing by her, You see what 'tis to play with fire!

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GRATEFUL LUCY.

As Lucy with her Mother walked, She played and gamboled, laughed and talked 'Till, coming to the river side, She slipped, and floated down the tide.

Her faithful Carlo being near, Jumped in to save his mistress dear; He drew her carefully to sh.o.r.e, And Lucy lives and laughs once more.

Dear generous Carlo, Lucy said, You ne'er shall want for meat or bread; For every day before I dine, Good Carlo shall have some of mine.

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RUN AND PLAY.

There, run away, you little things, And romp, and jump, and play, You have been quiet long enough, So run away, I say.

George, you and Lucy roll your hoops, You on a stick can ride, And nurse, with baby, run a race, Or any play beside.

Or you may play at hounds and hare, And chase it round and round, But, as a fall may often chance, Go on the gra.s.sy ground.

Or, if you like, beneath the hedge To gather wild flowers fair, Go, get your baskets, but be quick, And I will meet you there.

And afterwards, Papa will make One in your little play, And he will try to run as fast As you did yesterday.

The fresh, fresh air, so softly blows, And there shines out the sun, And active limbs and rosy cheeks Will in the race be won.

For little boys and girls may romp, And frisk, and jump, and play, When book and lessons both are done, So run away, I say.

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THE CUT.

Well, what's the matter? there's a face, What, has it cut a vein?

And it is quite a shocking place; Come, let us look again.

I see it bleeds, but never mind That tiny little drop; I don't believe you'll ever find That crying makes it stop.

'Tis sad, indeed, to cry at pain, For any but a baby; If _that_ should chance to cut a vein, We should not wonder, may be.

But such a man as you should try To bear a little sorrow: So run along, and wipe your eye, 'Twill all be well to-morrow.

SLEEPY HARRY.

I do not like to go to bed, The sleepy little Harry said; So, naughty Betty, go away, I will not come at all, I say.

What a silly little fellow!

I should be asham'd to tell her.

Betty, you must come and carry Very foolish little Harry.

The little birds are better taught, They go to roosting when they ought; And all the ducks and fowls you know _They_ went to bed an hour ago.

The little beggar in the street, Who wanders with his naked feet, And has not where to lay his head, O, he'd be _glad_ to go to bed.

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BREAKFAST AND PUSS.