I for a minute left the room
To listen to the “Buy a broom,”
And now I think it’s quite too bad
That you my luncheon should have had.
Her mother said, “My dear, if you
Had done what you were told to do,
And put the plate upon the shelf,
You might have had the bread yourself.
“But if you have no thought nor care,
And leave your luncheon on a chair,
You must not blame poor pussy-cat;
She knows no better, dear, than that.
“The one who left her bread about
Upon the chair, while she went out,—
The one who hangs her head for shame,—
My little girl’s the one to blame!”
[Illustration: Letter N.]
No, Robbie! you can go away;
I am not ready yet to play;
For I must learn these words to spell,
That I may say my lesson well.
How sad our dear mamma would look,
To find that I had left my book!
And if I disobeyed her so,
My play would not be gay, I know.
I’ll learn my lesson very soon,
And then I’ll run with you till noon;
So, Robbie, you can go away,
And presently I’ll come and play.
We’ve the dearest baby sister!
And so small and sweet is she,
That we love to stand beside her,
All her cunning ways to see.
She can talk in baby language,
She can laugh, and she can crow;
She’s the pet and she’s the darling,
She’s the sweetest one we know.
Mother says that she will always
Be a sweet and gentle child,
If, in all our actions towards her,
We are loving, good, and mild.
Let us, then, be kind and pleasant
Ever to our little pet;
Nor to thank the God who gave her,
Morn and night, let us forget.
[Illustration: Letter H.]
How glad it makes me feel at night,
When sitting on my mother’s knee,
To hear her whisper “You’ve done right,
And tried my gentle child to be.”
But then I feel ashamed and sad
If I’ve been cross and disobeyed,
Or if my selfish way I’ve had
When I with other children played.
So if at night I’d call to mind
A day of undisturbed delight,
The only way that I can find
Is to be loving and do right.
[Illustration: Signed Howlands.]
I’ve just looked from the window
To see the snow come down,
And make the streets look nice and white,
That lately were so brown.
I’ve seen a little beggar-girl
Go by in all the cold;
She had no shoes nor stockings on,
Her dress was torn and old.