It cannot be that you would make a prisoner of me, Who hate yourself to be cooped up, who love so to be free; An extra hour indoors, I know, is punishment to you; You make me twirl a tiny cage? It never can be true!
Yet I’ve a wary grandfather,
whose tail is white as snow.
He thinks he knows a lot of things we young ones do not know;
He says we’re safe with Doctor Birch, because he is so blind,
And that Miss Mittens would not hurt a fly, for she is kind.
But you, dear boy, who know
my ways, he bids me fly from you,
He says my life and liberty are lost unless I do;
That you, who fear the Doctor’s cane, will fling big sticks at me,
And tear me from my forest home, and from my favourite tree.
The more we think of what
he says, the more we’re sure it’s “chaff,”
We sit beneath the shadow of our bushy tails and laugh;
Hey, presto! Friend, come up, and let us hide and seek and play,
If you could spring as well as climb, what fun we’d have to-day!
Oh, how greedy you look as
you stare at my plate,
Your mouth waters so, and your big tail is drumming
Flop! flop! flop! on the carpet, and yet if you’ll wait,
When we have quite finished, your dinner is coming.
Yes! I know what you
mean, though you don’t speak a word;
You say that you wish that I kindly would let you
Take your meals with the family, which is absurd,
And on a tall chair like a gentleman set you.
But how little you think,
my dear dog, when you talk;
You’ve no “table manners,” you bolt meat, you gobble;
And how could you eat bones with a knife, spoon, and fork?
You would be in a most inconvenient hobble.
And yet, once on a time it
is certainly true,
My own manners wanted no little refining;
For I gobbled, and spilled, and was greedy like you,
And had no idea of good manners when dining.
So that when I consider the
tricks you have caught,
To sit or shake paws with the utmost good breeding,
I must own it quite possible you may be taught
The use of a plate, and a nice style of feeding.
Therefore try to learn manners,
and eat as I do;
Don’t glare at the joint, and as soon as you’re able
To behave like the rest, you shall feed with us too,
And dine like a gentleman sitting at table.
A SWEET LITTLE DEAR
I always was a remarkable
child; so old for my age, and such a
sensitive nature!—Mamma often says so.
And I’m the sweetest, little dear in my blue ribbons, and quite a
picture in my Pompadour hat!—Mrs. Brown told her so on