The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate Appeared to know as sure as fate There was going to be a terrible spat.

(_I wasn't there; I simply state What was told to me by the Chinese plate_!)

The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!"

And the calico cat replied "mee-ow!"

The air was littered, an hour or so, With bits of gingham and calico, While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place Up with its hands before its face, For it always dreaded a family row!

(_Now mind: I'm only telling you What the old Dutch clock declares is true_!)

The Chinese plate looked very blue, And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!"

But the gingham dog and the calico cat Wallowed this way and tumbled that, Employing every tooth and claw In the awfullest way you ever saw-- And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!

(_Don't fancy I exaggerate!

I got my views from the Chinese plate_!)

Next morning where the two had sat They found no trace of the dog or cat; And some folks think unto this day That burglars stole the pair away!

But the truth about the cat and the pup Is this: They ate each other up!

Now what do you really think of that!

(_The old Dutch clock it told me so, And that is how I came to know_.)

EUGENE FIELD.

THE BOY WHO NEVER TOLD A LIE.

"The Boy Who Never Told a Lie" (anonymous), as well as "Whatever Brawls Disturb the Street," by Isaac Watts (1674-1748), are real gems. A few years ago they were more in favour than the poorer verse that has been put forward. But they are sure to be revived.

Once there was a little boy, With curly hair and pleasant eye-- A boy who always told the truth, And never, never told a lie.

And when he trotted off to school, The children all about would cry, "There goes the curly-headed boy-- The boy that never tells a lie."

And everybody loved him so, Because he always told the truth, That every day, as he grew up, 'Twas said, "There goes the honest youth."

And when the people that stood near Would turn to ask the reason why, The answer would be always this: "Because he never tells a lie."

LOVE BETWEEN BROTHERS AND SISTERS.

Whatever brawls disturb the street, There should be peace at home; Where sisters dwell and brothers meet, Quarrels should never come.

Birds in their little nests agree; And 'tis a shameful sight, When children of one family Fall out and chide and fight.

ISAAC WATTS.

THE BLUEBELL OF SCOTLAND.

Oh where! and oh where! is your Highland laddie gone?

He's gone to fight the French for King George upon the throne; And it's oh! in my heart how I wish him safe at home.

Oh where! and oh where! does your Highland laddie dwell?

He dwells in merry Scotland at the sign of the Bluebell; And it's oh! in my heart that I love my laddie well.

IF I HAD BUT TWO LITTLE WINGS.

"If I Had But Two Little Wings," by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834), is recommended by a number of teachers and school-girls.

If I had but two little wings And were a little feathery bird, To you I'd fly, my dear!

But thoughts like these are idle things And I stay here.

But in my sleep to you I fly: I'm always with you in my sleep!

The world is all one's own.

And then one wakes, and where am I?

All, all alone.

SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE.

A FAREWELL.

"A Farewell," by Charles Kingsley (1819-75), makes it seem worth while to be good.

My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray; Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do n.o.ble things, not dream them all day long: And so make life, death, and that vast forever One grand, sweet song.

CHARLES KINGSLEY.

CASABIANCA.

"Casabianca," by Felicia Hemans (1793-1835), is the portrait of a faithful heart, an example of unreasoning obedience. It is right that a child should obey even to the death the commands of a loving parent.

The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form.

The flames rolled on--he would not go Without his father's word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud, "Say, father, say If yet my task is done?"

He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son.

"Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!"

And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair; And looked from that lone post of death In still, yet brave despair.

And shouted but once more aloud "My father! must I stay?"

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child Like banners in the sky.