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Good little boys should never say, _I will_, and, _Give me these_; O no! that never is the way, But, _Mother, if you please_.

And, _if you please_, to sister Ann, Good boys to say are ready; And, _Yes, Sir_, to a gentleman, And, _Yes, Ma'am_, to a lady.

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MAMA, HOW HAPPY I CAN BE.

Mama, how happy I can be, Whilst sitting face to face with thee, I hear you gently speak, and see Your needle quickly fly!

'Tis then you teach my little heart That virtue is the fairest part, And thinking on how good thou art, To be as good I try.

Then speaking of G.o.d's awful power, His care and kindness every hour, I learn to love and to adore This Father in the sky.

And, taught no bad or idle ways, I try to gain your love and praise, And wonder whilst on you I gaze, Why any fear to die.

Since G.o.d's indulgent care is shown, In calling each good child his own, We'll happy be before his throne, When called up on high.

And there, mama, may I and you Love G.o.d's commands as here we do, And love each other ever too, Together in the sky.

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A FINE THING.

Who am I, with n.o.ble face, Shining in a clear blue place?

If to look at me you try, I shall blind your little eye.

When my n.o.ble face I show Over yonder mountain blue, All the clouds away do ride, And the dusky night beside.

Then the clear wet dews I dry, With the look of my bright eye; And the little birds awake, Many a merry tune to make.

Cowslips then, and harebells blue, And lily-cups their lips undo, For they shut themselves up tight, All the dark and foggy night.

Then the busy people go, Every one his work unto; Little girl, when your's is done, Guess if I am not the Sun.

SLEEPY TOM.

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Get up, little boy, You are sleeping too long; Your brother is dressed, He is singing a song, And Tom must be wakened, O, fie!

Come, open the curtains, And let in the light; For children should only Be sleepy at night, When stars may be seen In the sky.

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SANDY.

Wee Sandy in the corner, Sits crying on a stool; And deep the laddie rues Playing truant from the school.

So you'll learn from silly Sandy, He's gotten such a fright; To do nothing through the day, That may cause you tears at night.

Those who will not be advised, Are sure to rue ere long; And many pains it costs them To do the thing that's wrong.

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THE CARE OF BIRDS.

Who gave the bird its feathers bright, Its pretty breast to warm; In winter's cold to keep it quite Preserved from every harm?

Who taught the bird to build its nest Of wool, and hay, and moss; Who taught it how to weave it best, And lay the twigs across?

'Twas G.o.d who taught it all the way, And gave it power and skill; And teaches children when they pray, To do His holy will.

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WILLIE WINKIE.

Hey! Willie Winkie, Are you coming then?

The cat's singing gay tunes To the sleeping hen.