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                      [Illustration]


                           THE

                     APPLE DUMPLING,

                           AND

                      OTHER STORIES

                           FOR

                  YOUNG BOYS AND GIRLS.




                         LONDON:
             ADDEY & CO., 21 OLD BOND STREET.

                        MDCCCLII.




                         LONDON:

 Printed by G. BARCLAY, Castle St. Leicester Sq.




TO LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS.


Once on a time there lived a little bit of a lady, who had a great many
nephews and nieces. She was very little indeed, so all the children
loved her, and said she was the best little Auntie in the world, and
exactly the right size to play with them and tell them stories.
Sometimes she told them stories about great and good men; sometimes
funny stories about Frizzlefits and Rumplestiltskin, and sometimes she
would make them nearly die with laughing at stories about the Dutchman,
Hansansvanansvananderdansvaniedeneidendiesandesan.

At last, one day, one of her nieces said to her, "Dear Auntie, do write
some stories, and put them in a book for us to read, and keep, as long
as we live."

The little Aunt thought this was a very good plan, and _here_ are the
stories, dear little children, for all of you. If you like them, just
let me know, and you shall have some more next year from

                                             AUNT FANNY.




CONTENTS.


                                               PAGE

TO LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS                        iii

THE APPLE DUMPLING                                1

THE BROTHERS                                      8

ANNIE BROWNE                                     22

THE THREE BEARS                                  29

ABOUT MINDING QUICKLY                            38

THE TWINS                                        47

THE LITTLE BOY THAT WAS AFRAID OF THE WATER      56

THE MAY QUEEN                                    62

THE TOOTHACHE                                    73

THE BOYS' SCHOOL                                 79

THE CHRISTMAS PARTY                             101




THE APPLE DUMPLING.


Many years ago, there was a little old woman who lived a long way off in
the woods. She lived all by herself, in a little cottage with only two
rooms in it, and she made her living by knitting blue woollen stockings,
and selling them.

One morning the old woman brushed up the hearth all clean, and put
everything in order; then she went to the pantry and took out a great
black pot, and filled it full of water, and hung it over the fire, and
then she sat down in her arm-chair by the fire. She took her spectacles
out of her pocket and put them on her nose, and began to knit a great
blue woollen stocking.

Very soon she said to herself, "I wonder what I shall have for dinner?
I think I will make an apple dumpling." So she put her knitting down,
and took her spectacles off her nose, and put them in her pocket, and,
getting out of her arm-chair, she went to the cupboard and got three
nice rosy-cheeked apples. Then she went to the knife-box and got a
knife; and then she took a yellow dish from the dresser, and sat down in
her arm-chair, and began to pare the apples.

After she had pared the apples, she cut each one into four quarters.
Then she got up again, and set the dish of apples on the table, and went
to the cupboard, and got some flour and a lump of butter. Then she took
a pitcher, and went out-of-doors to a little spring of water close by,
and filled the pitcher with clear, cold water. So she mixed up the flour
and butter, and made them into a nice paste with the water; and then she
went behind the door, and took down a rolling-pin that was hung up by a
string, and rolled out the paste, and put the apples inside, and covered
the apples all up with the paste. "That looks nice," said the old woman.
So she tied up the dumpling in a nice clean cloth, and put it into the
great black pot that was over the fire.

After she had brushed up the hearth again, and put all the things she
had used away, she sat down in her arm-chair by the fire, and took her
spectacles out of her pocket and put them on her nose, and began to knit
the big blue woollen stocking.

She knit eight times round the stocking, and then she said to herself,
"I wonder if the dumpling is done?" So she laid down her knitting, and
took a steel fork from the mantelpiece, and lifted the lid of the pot
and looked in.

As she was looking in, her spectacles tumbled off her nose, and fell
into the pot.

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!--that's bad! that's bad!" said the old woman.

She got the bright tongs, and fished up her spectacles, and wiped them
with the corner of her apron, and put them on her nose again, and then
she stuck the fork into the apple dumpling.

The apples were hard. "No, no, no," she said; "it is not done yet."

So she put on the lid of the pot, and laid the fork on the mantelpiece,
and sat down in her arm-chair, and began to knit again on the big blue
woollen stocking.

She knit six times round the stocking, and then she said to herself, "I
wonder if the dumpling is done?"

So she put her knitting down, and took the fork from the mantelpiece,
and lifted the lid of the pot and looked in.

As she was looking in, her spectacles tumbled off her nose, and fell
into the pot.

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!--that's bad! that's bad!" said the old woman.

She got the bright tongs and fished up her spectacles, and wiped them
with the corner of her apron, and put them on her nose again, and took
the fork and stuck it into the dumpling. The apples were just beginning
to get soft.

"No, no, no; it is not quite done yet," said the old woman.

So she put on the lid of the pot, and laid the fork on the mantelpiece,
and sat down in her arm-chair, and began to knit again on the big blue
woollen stocking.

She knit twice round the stocking, and then she said to herself, "I
wonder if the dumpling is done?"

So she laid down her knitting, and took the fork from the mantelpiece,
and lifted the lid of the pot, and looked in.

As she was looking in, her spectacles tumbled off her nose, and fell
into the pot.

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!--that's bad! that's bad!" said the old woman.

She got the bright tongs and fished up her spectacles, and wiped them
with the corner of her apron, and put them on her nose again, and took
the fork and stuck it into the dumpling.

The apples were quite soft. "Yes, yes, yes; the dumpling is done," said
the old woman.

So she took the dumpling out of the pot, and untied the cloth, and
turned it into a yellow dish, and set it upon the table.

Then she went to the cupboard and got a plate, and then to the knife-box
and got a knife; then she took the fork from the mantelpiece, and drew
her arm-chair close up to the table, and sat down in it, and cut off a
piece of the dumpling, and put it on her plate.

It was very hot, and it smoked a great deal; so the old woman began to
blow it. She blew very hard. As she was blowing, her spectacles tumbled
off her nose, and fell into the dumpling.

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!--that's bad! that's bad!" said the old woman.

She took her spectacles out of her plate, and wiped them with the
corner of her apron, and said to herself, "I must get a new nose. My
nose is so little, that my spectacles will not stick on my nose."

So she put her spectacles into her pocket, and began to eat the
dumpling.

It was quite cool now. So the old woman ate it all up, and said it was
very good indeed.




THE BROTHERS.


One day Henry came bounding home from school, his face beaming with joy.
He was head of his class, and he held fast in his hand a fine silver
medal, which had been awarded to him for good behaviour.

"Oh!" said he to himself, as he ran along, "how happy this will make my
dear Mother. I know she will kiss me; perhaps she will kiss me five or
six times, and call me her dear, dear boy. Oh! how I love my Mother!"

He ran up the steps of the house where he lived as he said this, and
pulled the bell very hard, for he was in a great hurry. His Father
opened the door. "Hush! Henry," said he, "come in very softly, your
Mother is very ill."

"My Mother! Dear Father, what is the matter with her? May I go in to her
if I will step very softly?"

"No," said his Father, "you must not see her now; you must be very still
indeed. I see, my dear boy, that you have been rewarded for good conduct
in school; I am glad that I have so good a son. And now, Henry, I know
you love your Mother so much, that you will promise me to be very still,
and wait patiently until she is able to see you." As he said this, he
drew Henry close to him, and smoothed down his long curling hair, and
kissed his cheek.

Henry threw his arms around his Father's neck, and promised him; and
then, putting away his medal, he went softly, on tiptoe, up to his
play-room, and shutting the door, began to work at a ship that he was
rigging. He did not get on very fast, for he could not help thinking of
his dear Mother, and wishing he could see her. She had hemmed all the
sails of the ship for him, and he was going to name it the "Eliza,"
after her.

The next morning Susan, the old nurse, knocked very early at the door of
the room where Henry slept. "Master Henry," said she, "what do you think
happened last night?"

"What did?" said Henry, sitting up in the bed; "is my Mother better?"

"Yes, she is better," replied Susan, "but do guess what has come.
Something that you have wished for very often. Something you can play
with, and take care of, and love more than you love your dog Hector."

"Is it alive?" said Henry.

"Yes," replied Susan, "it is alive, and in your Mother's room."

"Can it be a brother--a real live brother?" cried Henry, jumping out of
bed, and running up to Susan.

"Yes, it is a brother--a real live brother!" said Susan, laughing.

"I've got a brother! I've got a brother--a real brother!" shouted Henry,
running up and down the room, clapping his hands, jumping over the
chairs, and making a terrible noise, for in his joy he hardly knew what
he was about.

"Oh, hush, Master Henry!" said Susan. "What a crazy little fellow! your
Mother is still very ill. Now dress yourself quickly and quietly, and
you shall see your little brother."

Henry trembled with joy, and in his haste he put his feet into the arms
of his jacket, and his arms into the legs of his trousers; but after a
while he managed to get them on right, and though he washed his face and
hands in a minute, and brushed his hair with the back of the brush, yet
he did not look so bad as you might suppose.

He went very softly into his Mother's room. It was darkened, and he
could not see very well. He went up to the side of the bed. His Mother
smiled, and said, "Come here, my son." Her face was pale, but it had a
very happy look, for in her arms, sweetly sleeping, was the little
brother that Henry had longed for. He had a sister, who was nearly his
own age, but he had always wished for a brother, and the brother had
come at last.

"Dear Mother, may I help you take care of my little brother?" said
Henry; "you know I am strong enough to hold him. I would not let him
fall for the world."

"Yes, dear boy," replied his Mother; "when he is a little older, I
shall have a great deal of comfort in trusting this dear little brother
with you. It is more necessary now than ever, my son, that you should
try always to be good, and to set a good example before your brother. He
will be sure to do just as you do. If you are a good boy, you will be a
good man; and how happy you will be, when you are grown up, to think
that your good example will have made your brother a good boy, and a
good man too. Now kiss me, and go and get your breakfast."

Henry kissed his Mother, and told her of his good conduct in school, at
which she was very glad, and then stooping down, he kissed the soft
cheek of the little sleeping baby, and went gently out of the room.

In a few weeks his Mother got quite well, and Charles (that was the
baby's name) began to laugh and play with his brother. Henry was never
so happy as when he was with little Charley. He always put him to sleep
at night. The dear little fellow would clasp his little hand tight round
one of Henry's fingers, and fall to sleep in his bed, while his brother
sang to him.

One day when Charles was about four years old, he said, "Dear brother,
will you ride me on your back?" Henry was very busy just then; he was
making a bow and arrow. He looked down, and saw a sweet little face, and
two bright blue eyes, looking at him, and saying as plainly as eyes
could say, "Do, dear brother." So he said, "Yes, Charley, I will, if you
will help me to put away my things." Charles ran about, and helped Henry
put his play-room in nice order, and then climbing on his back, and
holding fast to a ribbon for a bridle, which Henry held between his
teeth, he gave him a little tap on the shoulder, and crying, "Get up,
old fellow," away they went around the room, Henry galloping so hard,
that Charles bounced about almost as much as if he was on a real pony.

"Let us go in the parlours, they are a great deal larger," said Charles;
"do, dear brother."

"I am afraid it would not be right," replied Henry; "we may break
something. Mother has said that we had better never play there."

"But we will be so careful," said the little boy; "we can play circus so
nice. I _want_ to go in the parlour."

Henry's Father and Mother had gone out riding, so he could not ask
leave to play in the parlours. He was almost sure it was wrong to go
there, but he wanted to gratify his brother; so, promising himself to be
very careful, he trotted down stairs into the parlour, with Charles on
his back. At first he went slowly round the two rooms, but Charles began
to whip his horse and cry, "Get up, old boy, you are getting lazy. You
shall be a race-horse. Now go faster, faster; go round the room like
lightning."

So round he went, fast and faster, shaking his head, and taking great
jumps, and kicking his legs up behind, with Charley holding on, laughing
and screaming with delight, till, alas! sad to tell, his elbow brushed
against a beautiful and costly vase, which stood upon a little table,
knocked it off, and broke it into a hundred pieces.

Henry stopped short, and let Charles slide down from his back. He
looked at the broken vase, and then at his brother, and Charles looked
at Henry, and then at the pieces on the floor.

"It is all broken," said he. "It can't be mended at all; can it,
brother?"

"No, it is past mending," said Henry; "and the first thing we must do
will be to tell Mother."

"Oh, no!" said the little boy; "I am afraid to tell her."

"We must never be afraid to tell the truth, dear Charley. I will set you
a good example. You shall never learn to tell a lie from me." Henry had
always remembered what his Mother had said to him, the very first time
he ever saw his little brother; and very often, when he was tempted to
be naughty, or get in a passion, the words, "Your brother will do just
as you do," would seem to come from his heart, and he would conquer his
passion.

In a few moments the boys heard the wheels of the carriage. Henry went
to the hall door, and opened it. He held Charles by the hand. He had to
hold him very tight, for Charles tried to get away. His face was pale.
He waited until his Mother got out of the carriage and came up the
steps, and, taking hold of her hand and looking up in her face, he said,
in a firm voice, "Mother, I have broken your vase."

"And I, too," said the little boy; "and it is broken all to pieces."

Henry was glad to hear his little brother say this; and oh! how happy it
made him feel, to think that the child had learned to speak the truth
from him.

Their Mother kissed them both and said, "My darling boys, I am rejoiced
that you are not afraid to speak the truth. I would rather lose twenty
vases than have you tell a lie. But you knew it was wrong to play in the
parlours; did you not?"

"Yes, dear Mother, it was wrong, and I knew it was," replied Henry. "I
will submit to any punishment you think right. I ought to have
remembered that you advised us not to go there."

"If you think you ought to be punished," said his Mother, "Charley shall
go to bed to-night without your singing to him. This will make you both
remember. Is that right?"

"Yes, dear Mother," said Henry; but he looked very sorry; and little
Charles made up a long face, for he loved his brother so much, that he
could not bear to think that he must go to sleep without holding his
finger and hearing him sing.

When bed-time came, Charley wanted to beg his Mother to think of some
other punishment for him. He wanted his dear brother so much. He looked
at Henry, but Henry said, "Good-night, little fellow; we deserve this.
Come! one night will soon be over. Now, let us see how well you can
behave;" and he gave him a smile, and a kiss so full of love, that the
little fellow put his lips tight together, and marched off to bed
without a tear. It was hard to do it, but he had this kind brother to
set him a good example, and he was determined to be as good a boy as
Henry.

Not many weeks after this, poor little Charles was taken sick. He was
very sick indeed, and every day he grew worse. The doctor did all he
could for him, and Henry stayed with him night and day, and would hardly
take any rest. He gave him all his medicine, and sang to him very often
when he was in pain. But Charles did not get any better, and at last the
doctor said that he could not make him well--the little boy must die.

When Henry heard this, the tears burst from his eyes, and he sobbed out,
"Oh, my brother! oh, my brother! I cannot part with you, my little
precious brother."

The poor little fellow had become so weak and thin that he could
scarcely lift his hands from the bed where he lay.

The last night came. He knew that he would not live many hours, for his
dear Mother had said so; and now she told him, that as he had always
tried to be a good boy, he would go to Heaven, and Jesus would take him
into His bosom, and love him, and keep him, until they came to him.

His little pale face grew bright. "Dear Mother," said he, "will Jesus
let my brother come to me? I want my brother in Heaven. Come here close
to me," said he to Henry. His brother leaned his face down close to the
little boy's face, and helped him clasp his arms around his neck, and
then he whispered, in a soft, weak voice, "Do not cry, dear brother--do
not cry any more. I will pray to Jesus to let you come very soon and
sing me to sleep in Heaven."

These were the last words he spoke, for his breath grew shorter and
shorter, and soon after his little hand dropped away from his brother's,
and he was dead.

And his Father had him buried in Highgate Cemetery.

It was in the summer time that he died, and his brother Henry planted a
white rose-bush at the foot of the little grave, and a red rose-bush at
the head, and often in the pleasant summer afternoons he would go alone
to Highgate, and sit upon little Charley's grave, and think how he might
at that moment be praying for him in Heaven.

Henry is now a man. He was always a good boy. He is now a good man; and
although many years have passed since he lost his little brother, he
goes every summer to Highgate to visit his grave; and the tears always
come into his eyes when he speaks of him, and tells that little
Charley's last words were, that he would pray to Jesus to let his
darling brother come soon, and sing him to sleep in Heaven.




ANNIE BROWNE.


Little Annie Browne was an only child, that is, she had no little
brothers or sisters; so you may be sure her parents loved this little
girl very much indeed, and were always endeavouring to make her happy.
Now I wonder if the dear little boy or girl, who is reading this, can
guess the means that Annie's Father and Mother took to make her happy.

Did they give her plenty of candy? No. Did they buy new play-things for
her every day? No. Did they take her very often to the Museum or the
Zoological Gardens? No; this was not the way. I will tell you what they
did; and I will tell you what Annie did for one whole day when she was
about five years old, and that will give you a very good idea of the way
they took to make her _good_, for then she was _sure_ to be _happy_.

Well, one day Annie woke up very early in the morning, and, sitting up
in her little bed, which was close by the side of her Mamma's, she first
rubbed her eyes, and then she looked all round the room, and saw a
narrow streak of bright light on the wall. It was made by the sun
shining through a crack in the shutter. She began to sing softly this
little song, that she had learned in school,--

    "What is it shines so very bright,
     That quick dispels the dusky night?--
       It is the sun--the sun;
     Shedding around its cheerful light,
       It is the sun--the sun."

Presently she looked round again, and saw her Mamma sleeping. She said,
in her soft little voice, "Mamma, Mamma! good morning, dear Mamma!"

But her Mamma did not wake up. Then she crept over her to where her Papa
was sleeping, and said,--

"Papa, Papa! good morning, dear Papa!"

But her Papa was too fast asleep to hear her. So she gave her Papa a
little kiss on the end of his nose, and laid gently down between them.

In a few minutes, her Papa woke up, and said,--

"Why! what little monkey is this in the bed?" which made Annie laugh
very much. She then jumped out of bed, and put on her stockings and
shoes herself, as all little boys and girls of five years old ought, and
washed her face and hands, and put on her clothes; and her Mamma, who
was now awake, fastened them, and brushed her hair nicely. After that,
she said some little prayers that her Mamma had taught her, and then ran
down stairs, singing as gaily as a lark, and dancing as lightly as a
fairy.

After breakfast, her Mamma got her school basket (it was a cunning
little basket), and put in it a nice slice of bread and butter, and a
peach, and gave her a little bouquet of flowers to present to her
teacher, whom little Annie loved dearly; and then her Mamma said, "Good
bye, my darling!" and Annie made her such a funny little curtsey, that
she nearly tumbled over, and off she went to school with her Papa, who
always saw her safe to the door.

Annie staid in school from nine o'clock until two. When she came home,
her Mother kissed her, and said--

"Have you been a good little girl in school to-day?"

"I think I have," said Annie; "Miss Harriet said that I was very
diligent. What is diligent, Mamma?"

"To be diligent, my dear," answered her Mamma, "means to study your
lesson all the time, without thinking of play, or anything else, until
you know it perfectly."

Annie said she was glad it meant such good things, and added, "Mamma,
will you play I am a lady coming to see you, if you are not too busy?"

Her Mamma said she would. So Annie got her two dolls. One was a very
pretty wax doll, with eyes that could open and shut. Her name was Emily;
and the other was not wax, but was larger. Her name was Augusta. Annie
put on their hats and shawls, and dressed herself in an old hat, with a
green veil, and came near her Mamma, and made believe ring a bell, and
said, "Ting a ling, ting a ling."

"Come in," said her Mamma.

Little Annie shook hands with her Mamma, and said, "How do you do, Mrs.
Browne?"

"Thank you, I am very well," said her Mamma. "Take a seat, my dear Mrs.
Frisby," that was Annie's name. "How are your children, Mrs. Frisby?"

"Oh! they are very sick," answered Annie; "one has the toothache, and
the other has a little square hole in the back of her head, and it has
made her head ache."

"Dear me! Mrs. Frisby," said her Mamma, "I am very sorry to hear it; you
ought to go to the doctor with them."

Then Annie pretended to go to the doctor, and she took out of the drawer
a little bit of sugar for medicine. She ate the medicine up herself, and
said that it had done the dollies a great deal of good. In this pleasant
way she amused herself until dinner time.

After dinner, her Papa and Mamma took her to the Park, as it was a
pleasant day; and there Annie jumped about with other little girls, or
ran with her great hoop. She could roll the hoop very well.

Then she came skipping home, and had her tea; and after that her
mother undressed her and heard her say her prayers, and kissed her for
good night; and she jumped into bed, and in a moment was fast asleep.
Don't you think Annie was a happy little girl? _I_ think she was, for
all her days passed in this pleasant manner. Some other time, perhaps, I
will tell you more about little Annie Browne.




THE THREE BEARS.[1]

  [1] From "The Doctor," by Robert Southey.


Once upon a time there were Three Bears, who lived together in a house
of their own, in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and
one was a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear. They
had each a pot for their porridge, a little pot for the Little, Small,
Wee Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear, and a great pot
for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in; a little
chair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the
Middle Bear; and a great chair for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had
each a bed to sleep in; a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear;
and a middle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a great bed for the
Great, Huge Bear.

One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and
poured it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while
the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths, by
beginning too soon to eat it. And while they were walking, a little old
Woman came to the house. She could not have been a good, honest old
Woman; for first she looked in at the window, and then she peeped in at
the keyhole; and seeing nobody in the house, she lifted the latch. The
door was not fastened, because the Bears were good Bears, who did nobody
any harm, and never suspected that any body would harm them. So the
little old Woman opened the door and went in; and well pleased she was
when she saw the porridge on the table. If she had been a good little
old Woman, she would have waited till the Bears came home, and then,
perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast; for they were good
Bears,--a little rough or so, as the manner of Bears is, but for all
that very good-natured and hospitable. But she was an impudent, bad old
Woman, and set about helping herself.

So first she tasted the porridge of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was
too hot for her; and she said a bad word about that. And then she tasted
the porridge of the Middle Bear, and that was too cold for her; and she
said a bad word about that too. And then she went to the porridge of the
Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hot
nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well, that she ate it
all up: but the naughty old Woman said a bad word about the little
porridge-pot, because it did not hold enough for her.

Then the little old Woman sate down in the chair of the Great, Huge
Bear, and that was too hard for her. And then she sate down in the chair
of the Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sate
down in the chair of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither
too hard, nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and
there she sate till the bottom of the chair came out, and down came
hers, plump upon the ground. And the naughty old Woman said a wicked
word about that too.

Then the little old Woman went up stairs into the bed-chamber in which
the three Bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great,
Huge Bear; but that was too high at the head for her. And next she lay
down upon the bed of the Middle Bear; and that was too high at the foot
for her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, Small, Wee
Bear; and that was neither too high at the head, nor at the foot, but
just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there till
she fell fast asleep.

By this time the Three Bears thought their porridge would be cool
enough; so they came home to breakfast. Now the little old Woman had
left the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear, standing in his porridge.

                 "=SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!="

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice. And when
the Middle Bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon was standing in it
too. They were wooden spoons; if they had been silver ones, the naughty
old Woman would have put them in her pocket.

                  "SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!"

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon
in the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone.

     "_Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all up!_"

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Upon this the Three Bears, seeing that some one had entered their house,
and eaten up the Little, Small, Wee Bear's breakfast, began to look
about them. Now the little old Woman had not put the hard cushion
straight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear.

               "=SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!="

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And the little old Woman had squatted down the soft cushion of the
Middle Bear.

                "SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!"

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

And you know what the little old Woman had done to the third chair.

                "_Somebody has been sitting in my chair,
                  and has sate the bottom of it out!_"

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

[Illustration]

Then the Three Bears thought it necessary that they should make further
search; so they went up stairs into their bed-chamber. Now the little
old Woman had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear, out of its
place.

                   "=SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!="

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And the little old Woman had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out
of its place.

                    "SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!"

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was
the bolster in its place; and the pillow in its place upon the bolster;
and upon the pillow was the little old Woman's ugly, dirty head,--which
was not in its place, for she had no business there.

        "_Somebody has been lying in my bed,--and here she is!_"

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

The little old Woman had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff
voice of the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was no
more to her than the roaring of wind, or the rumbling of thunder. And
she had heard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as if
she had heard some one speaking in a dream. But when she heard the
little, small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so
sharp, and so shrill, that it awakened her at once. Up she started; and
when she saw the Three Bears on one side of the bed, she tumbled herself
out at the other, and ran to the window. Now the window was open,
because the Bears, like good, tidy Bears, as they were, always opened
their bed-chamber window when they got up in the morning. Out the little
old Woman jumped; and whether she broke her neck in the fall; or ran
into the wood and was lost there; or found her way out of the wood, and
was taken up by the constable and sent to the House of Correction for a
vagrant as she was, I cannot tell. But the Three Bears never saw
anything more of her.




ABOUT MINDING QUICKLY.


Emma was one day sitting by the fire, on a little stool. She was trying
to cut a mouse out of a piece of paper. She had a pair of scissors, with
round ends. Her mother had given her these scissors for her own, because
they were safer for her to use than scissors with pointed ends.

Presently, her Mother said, "Come here to me, Emma."

"Wait a minute, Mother," said Emma.

"Do you know," said her Mother, "that it was naughty for you to say
that?"

"Why, you can wait a _little_ minute," said Emma; "I am very busy.
Don't you see that I am making a mouse?"

"Emma," replied her Mother, "do you know that I ought to punish you,
because you do not mind?"

"I am coming directly," cried Emma, dropping her scissors and her paper
mouse, and running up to her Mother.

Her Mother took her up on her lap, and said, "My little girl, this will
_never_ do. You must learn to come at once when you are called; you
_must_ obey quickly. If you continue in this very naughty habit of not
minding until you are told to do a thing two or three times, you will
grow up a very disagreeable girl, and nobody will love you."

Emma looked up mournfully into her Mother's face, and said, "Mother, I
will try to do better."

She was a good-tempered child, and was seldom cross or sullen; but she
had this one bad habit, and it was a very bad habit indeed--she waited
to be told twice, and sometimes oftener, and many times she made her
kind Mother very unhappy.

For a few days after this Emma remembered what her Mother had said to
her, and always came the first time she was called. She came pleasantly,
for it is very important to mind pleasantly, and did everything she was
told to do immediately; and her Mother loved her dearly, and hoped she
was quite cured of her naughty ways.

But I am very sorry to have to say that a time came when Emma entirely
forgot her promise. You shall hear how it happened.

One morning Emma's Mother said to her, "Emma, it is time for you to get
up, and put on your stockings and shoes."

Emma did not move. She lay with her eyes wide open, watching a fly on
the wall, that was scrubbing his thin wings with his hind legs.

"Did you hear me, Emma? Put on your stockings and shoes!"

Emma got up very slowly. She put one foot out of bed, and then looked
again at the fly. This time he was scrubbing his face with his fore
legs. So she sat there, and said to herself, "I wonder how that funny
little fly can stay upon the wall. I can't walk up the wall as the fly
can. What a little round black head he has got!"

"Emma!" said her Mother, and this time she spoke in a very severe tone.

Emma started, and put her other foot out of bed, and took up one of her
stockings.

Her Mother got out of her bed, which was close to Emma's crib, and began
to dress herself. When she was dressed, she looked round, and saw Emma,
with one stocking half on, and the other rolled up in a little ball,
which she was throwing up in the air.

Her Mother was angry with her. She went up to her, and took her
stocking away from her, and told her to get into bed again; for if she
would not dress herself when her Mother bid her, she should be punished
by being made to lie in bed. She shut up the window shutters, and took
all the books out of the room, and telling Emma not to get up until she
gave her leave, she went down stairs to breakfast.

Now children don't like to be in bed in the daytime,--at least I have
never heard of any one that did; and Emma was soon tired of lying in a
dark room wide awake, with nothing to do, and no pleasant thoughts, for
she could think of nothing but her naughty behaviour. So this was a very
severe punishment, and she began to cry, and wish she had minded
quickly, and then she would have been down stairs, where the sun was
shining brightly into the windows. She would have been sitting in her
chair, with her dear little kitten in her lap, and a nice bowl of bread
and milk for her breakfast. She always saved a little milk in the bottom
of the bowl for Daisy her kitten, and after she had done, she would give
the rest to Daisy. So you see that Emma lost much pleasure by not
minding quickly; and, what was worse than all, she had displeased her
Mother, and made her unhappy.

Oh, how weary she got! how she longed to get up! She did not dare to
disobey her Mother, and she lay in her crib a long, long time, and
thought she never could be so naughty again.

At last her Mother came into the room. She opened the shutters, and
said, "Emma, you may get up and put on your stockings and shoes."

Emma jumped up quickly, and had them on in two minutes, and then she
took off her night-gown and put on her day-clothes, which hung over the
back of the chair by her crib, and went to her Mother to have them
fastened, for she could not fasten them herself. Her Mother fastened her
clothes, and then, taking her little girl's hand, she said, "My dear
little Emma, you have made me feel very unhappy this morning. I do not
like to punish you, but it is my duty to try to cure you of all your
naughty ways, and it is your duty to try to overcome them. If you do
not, some day you may meet with some terrible misfortune, like that
which happened to a boy I used to know when I was young. I will tell you
the story. This boy, like you, grieved his parents often, by not minding
quickly; and he suffered for it in a way that he will never forget as
long as he lives. He was one day standing on the steps of the house
where he lived, and I was standing at the window of the house opposite,
where I lived. I was watching some men that were on the top of this
boy's house, fixing the slates on the roof. The roof was covered with
loose pieces of slate, and nails, and rubbish.

"Presently one of the men on the roof cried out, 'Go in, little boy; go
in.' But the boy was looking at a kite that some other boys had in the
street, and he did not choose to go in. The man thought that he had
minded what he told him, and without looking again he tumbled down a
great heap of slates and rubbish. The house was quite high, and a large
and sharp piece of slate came down very swiftly, and struck the boy on
the side of his head, and cut off nearly the whole of his ear. In a
moment the blood poured down his neck and over his clothes, and I
thought he would bleed to death. Oh, Emma! what a dreadful punishment
for not minding quickly!

"For a long time he went about with his head bound up, and when he got
well again the side of his face looked very bad indeed, for where his
ear had been there was a dreadful scar that never went away. Now he is a
man, and he often tells children how he got this dreadful scar, and all
because he did not mind quickly."

The tears had rolled down Emma's face while her Mother was telling her
this story. When she had finished it, Emma put her arms around her
Mother's neck, and told her that indeed she would try to obey at once,
and be a good little girl, so that her dear Mother would never be
unhappy about her again.

Her Mother kissed her, and took her down stairs, and gave her some
breakfast, and all this day, and ever after, she did try very hard to be
good. Whenever she felt herself going about anything slowly, the thought
of the poor boy who had lost his ear would come into her mind, and she
would jump up at once, when her Mother called her, and do whatever she
wanted her to do, pleasantly and quickly.




THE TWINS.


"Well, Susan," said her Father one day, as she came home from school, "I
am glad to see you; I wish to inform you that two young gentlemen
arrived here to-day."

"What are their names, Father?" asked Susan.

"I do not know," answered her Father; "I do not believe they have got
any names. They are very small--so small that at this moment they are
both asleep in the great chair."

"Both asleep in the great chair?" cried Susan, astonished at what her
Father had said, "I do believe you have been buying two little monkeys."

"No, I have not," said her Father, laughing. "Now come with me, and I
will show you these strangers, and then see if you will say they are
monkeys."

Susan went with her Father. He took her hand, and led her into her
Mother's room. The room was dark, and her Mother was lying in the bed.
Susan was afraid that she was sick. She went to her and said,--

"Dear Mother, are you sick? You look very pale."

Her Mother kissed her, and said, "I am very weak, my dear child; but do
you not want to see your little brothers?"

"Brothers?--where?" cried Susan. "Have I a brother?"

"Two of them," said her Father. "Come here, Susan, here they both are,
fast asleep."

Susan went up to the great easy chair, and on the cushion she saw, all
tucked up warm, two little round fat faces lying close together. Their
noses nearly touched each other, and they looked funny enough.

"Well, Susan," said her Father, "do you like the monkeys?"

"Oh, Father!" answered the little girl, clasping her hands, "I am so
glad--I am so happy! They are exactly alike,--how I shall love them, the
dear little toads!"

"Toads!" said her Father, laughing; "they don't look a bit like toads."

"Well, I said that because I loved them so," replied Susan, "just as you
sometimes call me your little mouse."

For two weeks the little twins slept together in the great chair, and
there was no end to Susan's wonder and delight. Her Mother had to tie a
bit of red silk around the wrist of one of them, to tell them apart.
They grew very fast, and were the dearest little fellows in the world,
they had such bright, merry, black eyes, and were always ready to have a
frolic with Susan. As they grew up, they were so good and so pretty,
that everybody loved them, and a great many people came to see them. I
forgot to tell you that one was named George, and the other James.

One day, when the twins were three years old, they were left alone in
the breakfast-room. The things on the breakfast-table had been cleared
away, except a bowl nearly full of sugar, which was standing on the
table.

Presently the little fellows spied the bowl of sugar. "George," said
James, "if you will help me with this chair, I will give you some
sugar."

So both the boys took hold of the heavy chair, and dragged it to the
table. Then James helped George to climb upon it, and from that he
scrambled up on the table. He walked across, to where the sugar was, and
sat down on the table, and took the sugar-bowl in his lap.

"Now, you get the stool," said George.

So James got the stool, and put it close to the side of the table where
George was, and stood upon it.

You should have seen how their merry black eyes sparkled, at the fine
feast they were going to have. They did not think that they were doing
wrong, for their Mother had often given them a little sugar.

So George took the spoon that was in the sugar, and helped James to a
spoonful, and then took one himself. He was very particular to give
James exactly as many spoonfuls as he took himself.

They were having such a delightful time, that for some moments they did
not speak a single word. George began first,--

"This is nice," said George.

"I like sugar," said James.

"It is so sweet," said George.

"And so good," said James.

"We will eat it all up," said George.

"We won't leave a bit," said James.

"It is almost all gone," said George.

"There is hardly any left," said James.

All the time they were talking George had been stuffing his brother and
himself with the sugar.

Just then their Mother opened the door. She had opened it softly, and
the little boys had not heard her. When she saw them so busy--with their
round faces stuck all over with crumbs of sugar, and George sitting on
the table, dealing it out so fairly--she could not keep from laughing.

The twins heard her laugh, so they laughed too; and George cried out,
"Mother, this sugar is nice--I like it."

"And so do I," said James.

Their Mother lifted George from the table, and told them they must not
do so again, for so much sugar would make them sick. She washed their
faces, and sent them to play in the garden. There was a fine large
garden at the back of the house, where they could play without danger.

Three years after this, the twins were sent to school, where they soon
became great favourites, because they were amiable and good, and always
willing to do as they were told. They looked so exactly alike, and were
dressed so exactly alike, that often very funny mistakes were made. I
will tell you something that happened, that was not funny, but it will
show you how hard it was to tell which was George, and which was James.

One day, the teacher gave the twins a spelling lesson, and told them
that they must know it perfectly that morning.

Now George, for the first time, was naughty, and instead of learning
the lesson, he was making elephants and giraffes on his slate; but James
studied his lesson, and soon knew it. Presently the teacher said,
"James, do you know your lesson?"

"Yes, sir," said James. He went up to the desk and said it very well.

"You know it perfectly," said his teacher; "you are a good boy. Now go
to your seat."

In a few moments he said, "George, come and say your lesson."

But George did not know a word of it; and James whispered to him, "I
don't want you to be punished, brother; I will go for you and say it
again."

So James went and repeated his lesson. The teacher thought of course it
was George; he said, "Very well, indeed, George; you know it just as
well as James: you are _both_ good boys."

When George heard this praise, which he did not deserve, he was
troubled. He had been taught never to deceive. He did not think at first
how wrong he had been; _now_, he saw plainly, that it was very wrong;
that he and his brother had been _acting_ a lie.

He whispered to James, "Brother, I can't bear to cheat, so I will go and
tell the teacher."

So he went directly up to the desk, and said, "Sir, I have not yet said
my lesson."

"Why, yes you have," replied the teacher; "I have just heard you say
it."

"No, sir, if you please," said George; "I do not know it at all. James
said it twice, to save me from being punished."

"Well, George," replied his teacher, "I am very glad you have told me
this. I never should have found it out. But your conscience told you
that you were doing wrong; and I am thankful you have listened to its
warnings, and made up your mind at once to be an honest boy. I will not
punish you or James, for I am sure neither of you will do so again."

The little boys promised him they never would--and they never did; and
they grew up to be honest and good men.




THE LITTLE BOY THAT WAS AFRAID OF THE WATER.


Once on a time there were two little boys. William was five years old,
and Johnny was not quite three. The weather was very warm, and these
little boys got so weak, and looked so pale and sick, that the doctor
said their parents had better take them to Hastings, and let them bathe
in the sea. So their Mother packed up their clothes, and some books, for
she did not wish them to be idle; and one pleasant afternoon they all
went by the railway to Hastings.

The little boys were very much amused at all they saw. There were
several other boys in the carriage, and William and Johnny looked very
hard at them, and wished they knew what their names were, and whether
they had a Noah's Ark and Rocking-Horse like theirs.

After three hours' ride by the puffing, screaming railway, they arrived
safely at Hastings, and they found a carriage waiting for them, which
soon took them to the house which their papa had hired. Tea was
immediately brought up, and then, as they were all very tired, they went
early to bed.

After breakfast the next morning, William and Johnny walked down to the
smooth and beautiful beach with their parents, where a great many
people, some of them children, were bathing. They seemed to like it very
much; and it really did look very inviting, for the sun made the water
sparkle like diamonds, and the waves seemed dancing and leaping, and
looked as if they longed to give everybody a good splashing.

William was delighted. He could hardly wait to be undressed, he was in
such a great hurry to be ducked; and when the bathing-woman took him and
plunged him under the water, although he gasped for breath, he laughed,
and kicked, and splashed the water, and cried, "Duck me again! duck me
again!" and he looked so pleased, that some other children came to where
he was, and they all had a grand frolic together.

Little Johnny laughed too, as he stood in the machine; but, when his
Mother said, "Come, Johnny, now it is your turn," he made a terrible
face, and cried, "Dear Mamma, please let me go home. I shall never see
you again if you put me in that great big water." But his Mamma said he
must go in, because it would do him a great deal of good, and she
undressed him, and put him into the woman's arms.

Johnny now began to scream as loud as he could, and cried out,
"Mamma, Mamma, I want to go back to you." But the old woman did not mind
him a bit, and holding him by his arms, she plunged him under the water.

[Illustration]

The poor little fellow came up gasping and panting, and sobbed out, "Oh,
my dear Mamma, come and kiss me 'fore I die."

Everybody laughed--for there was no danger--except his kind Mother. A
tear started to her eye, for she knew her dear little son really thought
he was dying, and would never see her again. But in a little while he
felt better, and, after his Mother had taken him, and had rubbed him all
over and dressed him, and he had run up and down the beach with William
and the other children, he felt such a nice warm glow all over him, that
he forgot all about his fright.

Very soon he said, "Mamma, I am so hungry--I am as hungry as a little
bear."

"That is because you have been in the water," replied his Mother.

"Are the fishes always hungry?--does the water make them hungry too?"
said Johnny.

"I believe they are always ready to eat," replied his Mother; "you know
that they are caught by bait. This bait is often a little worm, put upon
a sharp hook. The fish snap at the bait, and the hook catches them in
the mouth. Come, little hungry fish," added his Mother, "and I will give
you something to eat; but I will not put it on a hook to hurt you."

The next day the little boys went into the water again, and, although
Johnny made up a doleful face, he did not think he should die this time;
and, when he saw the other children laughing and splashing each other,
and crying, "Duck me again! what fun we are having!" he tried to like it
too, and after a little while did begin to like it; for when children
_try_ to overcome their foolish fears, they will almost always succeed,
and be rewarded, as Johnny was, by the pleasure they enjoy, and the
happiness they give to their parents.

After a few days Johnny got to be so brave, that he was the first to
run down to the beach and jump into the bathing-woman's arms, and he
cried louder than any, "Duck me again!" and splashed everybody that came
near him; and both William and Johnny got so strong, and ate so
heartily, and had such great red cheeks, that when they went home to
London, a few weeks after, their friends hardly knew them, and Johnny
never again had any foolish fears about going into the water.




THE MAY QUEEN.


"Mother," said Frederick Stanley, "is it not wrong to treat servants
unkindly?"

"What makes you ask that question?" answered his Mother. "What can have
put that into your head?"

"Nothing--I don't know," replied he, looking at his sister Kate, who was
sitting near him, working a pair of slippers.

Mrs. Stanley saw that there was something on their mind, so she laid
down her book, and tried to draw it out. She began,--

"What is the reason that your little Scottish friend Jessie has not
been here lately? I thought that you, Kate, could not take a walk with
any pleasure without her, and Fred has become quite a beau since her
arrival. I am afraid you have done or said something to offend her."

"Fred," said Kate,--who was two years younger than her brother, and much
smaller, and had a great respect for him,--"Fred, do you tell Mother."

Fred gave his trousers a little pull, shook the hair away from his face,
half laughed, and did not speak a word; but Kate, like a real little
woman, could not keep the secret a moment longer.

"We have had a quarrel, Mother; that's all."

"'A quarrel! that's all!'" said her Mother. "That's a great deal too
much; but what did you find to quarrel about?"

"Why, Mother," answered Fred, getting over his bashfulness, now that
the secret was out, "it was all about treating servants with kindness."

"Well done!" exclaimed his Mother. "Let us hear what you had to say upon
the subject."

"I said it was a shame to abuse those who were poorer than we were; that
in God's eyes all were equal. I could not bear to hear Jessie say that
she had her own servant at home, and when this servant did anything to
displease her, she would pinch and slap her. I told her she was a
downright wicked girl!"

"Oh, shocking! shocking!" said Mrs. Stanley. "And, my sweet little Kate,
did you too stand up for kindness to servants?"

"I did all I could, dear Mother," she replied, "but Fred did the most."

"Well, tell me, what else did you say?"

"I told her," said Fred, hesitating a little, "that here we said, 'if
you please,' and 'thank you,' when a servant did anything for us, and
that she had better go back to Scotland, and not stay another day in a
place where she was deprived of the pleasure of pinching people."

"Oh, Frederick! Frederick! how could a boy of your politeness be so rude
to a young lady? That was a great mistake."

Frederick looked mortified, and Kate hung her head. "But what happened
after that?" asked Mrs. Stanley.

"Oh, she was so angry that she went away, and we have not seen her
since. I am very sorry; but it can't be helped now."

"No," said Kate, "we can't help it now."

"But, my dear children," said their Mother, "I think you owe Jessie an
apology."

"I have no objection," said Fred, after reflecting a moment, "if you
think I have been so very impolite; but it will do no good."

"Well," said Mrs. Stanley, "it must be done. Perhaps I can assist you
in making up the quarrel. Next Thursday, you know, is the first of May.
You shall have a little party, and Jessie shall be Queen of May. That
will be certain to please her."

"Jessie! Queen!" exclaimed Kate. "She will not, Mother. Jessie will not
come; I am sure she will not come. I do not believe she will ever speak
to us again."

"I tell you she _will_ come," said her Mother; "and she will be Queen. I
will manage it for you."

"Ah, well, Mother," said Fred, looking at his sister, "you don't know
Jessie as well as we do. She won't forgive us so easily."

Company now came in, and the children went to their studies. In the
afternoon Mrs. Stanley sent a polite invitation to Jessie and her
parents to pass the next Thursday evening at her house; and as they were
sitting at the tea-table, the answer was returned.

"There," said Mrs. Stanley, "one point is gained; they will all come."

"They may come," said Frederick, "but she won't be civil to us, I know."

The next day was spent in preparing the crown, throne, and flowers,
&c., and Frederick set himself to work to learn by heart some lines his
Mother had written for the occasion.

Thursday evening arrived, and the children, though afraid of Jessie's
cold looks, were in good spirits. Kate came into the parlour, and found
Fred before a large glass, making his speech, and practising the most
graceful bows and gestures.

"Goodness!" she exclaimed, "how light and beautiful the room looks! Oh,
Fred, I hope we shall have a pleasant time."

The arrival of the company now interrupted them, and when nearly all had
come, Mrs. Stanley told her plan with regard to Jessie; and this
important matter was just settled, when that young lady and her parents
entered.

Jessie, not knowing the honour awaiting her, was very stiff and grave
in her salutations. Her large dark eyes were turned away from Fred and
Kate, yet an expression about her pretty mouth seemed to say,--

"I am not so very angry as you think."

"She _looks_ like a Queen, does not she?" whispered Fred to his sister.

"She is stiff enough, at any rate," said Kate.

"I wonder whom she will choose for her King?" said Fred.

"I am sure I don't know," answered Kate, looking round. "I suppose the
biggest boy."

"Dear me!" said Fred, "I forget that I must go out until it is time for
the Address;" and he left the room, to wait his Mother's signal.

Refreshments were now handed round the room, and many a sly glance was
cast upon the unconscious Jessie, who was still looking very grave, and
almost cross, till, at a hint from his Mother, Fred made his appearance,
and with blushing face, but firm voice, pronounced the following lines:

    "O valiant knights, and ladies fair!
     I'm very glad to see you here;
     Your happy looks and eyes so bright,
     Have quite inspired me to-night.
     Though I'm unused to courtly ways,
     My choice from you will meet with praise.
     Our English land, so brave and free,
     Where waves the flag of liberty,
     Can yet, while all our hearts approve,
     The Scottish stranger fondly love.
     (No looks of grave distrust are seen,)
     Fair Jessie! I proclaim you Queen!
     And kneeling lowly at your feet,
     To be your knight I do entreat.
     Now deign to say, what happy one
     Amongst us all shall share your throne?"

Fred rose from his knees, and awaited Jessie's reply.

Her anger was all gone, but she was so surprised that she looked down,
and did not say a word.

"Well," thought Fred, "I knew she would act so. I suppose everybody is
laughing at me."

"Jessie," said her Mother, "speak quickly. Whom will you have for King?"

Jessie blushed, and smiled, and whispered in a soft little voice,
"Frederick."

Astonished and delighted by this kindness, Fred again knelt down, then
rising, he took her little white hand, and led her in triumph, followed
by all the company, to the next room, where a splendid throne had been
erected. A beautiful crown of flowers was placed on Jessie's head, and
gave new beauty to her soft and curling brown hair. Frederick also had a
handsome crown. Sceptres were placed in their hands, and then they
arranged their court. Kate was made a Duchess, at which she grew quite
dignified; there were plenty of Earls and Countesses, and the sweet
little maids of honour and the pages stood behind the throne.

They then formed a procession, to return to the parlour, and in an
instant a march burst forth from a band of music which had been
concealed for the purpose.

At this unexpected event, his Majesty jumped so high that his crown
tumbled off, and the Queen was in such a delightful agitation that she
could not confine her steps to a walk, and so the King and the Queen,
and the Duchess, and all the maids of honour and pages, ran
helter-skelter, as fast as they could, and took places for dancing.

Never were merrier hearts or brighter eyes than now leaped and shone in
that little party. The Queen was the gayest of all, and the King was
nearly out of his wits with joy, to find himself and Jessie once more
friends. Little Kate got so tired of being a Duchess that she skipped
about like a little fairy; and all the lords and ladies, and maids of
honour and pages, were so merry and so full of innocent fun, that they
looked a great deal more like little children. And so the happy evening
concluded, to the satisfaction of all.

The next morning, Mrs. Stanley asked her children if they had had a
pleasant party.

"Oh, yes!" they both answered; "it was perfectly delightful; and Jessie
was as pleasant as she could be, and seemed to have forgotten all about
the quarrel."




THE TOOTHACHE.


One day little Emily's Grandma said to her, "My dear child, you must go
with me to-day to the dentist's, and have some of those teeth pulled
out. They are growing so fast and so crooked, that you have not room
enough in your mouth for them all."

"Dear Grandma," said the little girl, "will it hurt me _very_ much?"

"Yes, my dear," replied her Grandma; "it will hurt you a great deal, but
you must try to bear the pain; it will not be long."

Poor little Emily sighed, and the tears stood in her eyes. She knew
that her Grandmother always told her the exact truth. She knew that she
would suffer a great deal of pain, because her Grandma had told her so.

It is always the best way to tell a little boy or girl the exact truth.
If Emily's Grandma had said that it would not hurt her to have her teeth
pulled out, it would have been very wrong, and Emily would not have
believed her another time, when she was to have anything done to her.

This little girl had no Mother. Her Mother was dead, and her Grandma
took care of her, and was very kind to her, and Emily loved her dearly,
and so she made up her mind to go and have her teeth out, without any
trouble, because her Grandma was in bad health; and she knew that if she
cried and made a great fuss about it, it would trouble her, and perhaps
make her ill.

Now was not this thoughtful and good in a little girl only seven years
old? I hope all the little boys and girls that read this will try to be
as good.

After dinner, Emily and her Grandma put on their bonnets, and went to
the dentist's house. The little girl trembled when the door was opened,
but she walked in without saying a word.

They went into the parlour, for there were some persons up stairs in the
dentist's room, and they had to wait.

"Grandma," said Emily, "may I look at the books on the table? It will
keep me from thinking about my teeth."

Her Grandma said she might, and the little girl was soon quite
interested in looking at the pictures in the books, and showing them to
her Grandma.

In a little while the servant came to tell her she could go up stairs.
Her heart beat fast, but she went up to her Grandmother, and said, "Dear
Grandma, you are not well; you look quite pale to-day. Do not go with
me; I will go alone, and I promise you I will be a brave little girl."

She kissed her Grandma, and ran out of the room.

When she entered the room up stairs, she saw two ladies there. She
stopped; but the dentist said, "Come in, my little girl, do not be
afraid, I will be as gentle as I can."

The ladies saw that she was alone, so one of them went up to her and
took her hand. She was an old lady, and wore spectacles, and she looked
very kind and good. So the dear little girl let the dentist lift her
into the great chair, and take off her hat, and the old lady kept hold
of her hand, and said, "It will be over in a minute, my dear child," and
then she pressed her little hand so kindly, that Emily felt quite
comforted.

The other lady was a young lady, and she too felt sorry that Emily was
to suffer. She wanted to smooth her hair, and give her a kiss; but she
thought that the little girl might be afraid of so many strangers, so
she sat down very quietly.

When the dentist had looked into Emily's mouth, he saw that four teeth
must come out. So he got the instrument, and held her head tight with
his arm.

Emily turned pale, but she kept quite still, and did not cry or scream;
and the dentist pulled out the four teeth, one after the other, without
a sound from her lips.

When they were all out, some large tears came from her eyes and rolled
down her cheeks; but she only said, "Thank you," to the lady that held
her hand; and, putting her handkerchief to her mouth, she ran down
stairs.

"My darling child," said her Grandma, "how well you have behaved; I did
not hear the least noise."

"No, Grandma," replied Emily, "I tried very hard not to scream; I was
determined to be quite still; and a good old lady like you, Grandma,
held my hand, which was a great comfort. But oh! Grandma, it _did_ hurt
me most terribly."

"My dear child, I know it did," said her Grandma; "you are the best
little girl in the world, and a happiness and a treasure to me."

After Emily had gone, the ladies who had witnessed her good conduct, and
admired her courage, asked her name and where she lived; and one of
them, the young lady, sent her a pretty little gold ring with a blue
stone in it, and a little note containing these words:--

"For the dear little girl who had the courage to bear a great pain
nobly."

Emily was very much pleased with this little present; it was so
unexpected. She could not find out who had sent it to her.

I hope all the little boys and girls will read this story with
attention, and when they go to the dentist's they will think of Emily,
and try to imitate her good conduct.




THE BOYS' SCHOOL.


Not very long ago, Mr. Harrison kept a boarding-school for little boys
in a delightful village in Hertfordshire. He took twenty boys to
educate, and he was so kind, and had such a pleasant way of teaching,
that the boys were happier with him than they would have been at home.

When the boys came in the spring, Mr. Harrison gave to each of them a
little plot of ground for a garden; and the little fellows were very
busy during play-hours, in preparing and arranging their gardens. They
had permission to go to the gardener and get just what seeds they
wanted; so some of the boys planted melons and cucumbers, and some
pumpkins and radishes, and two of them made an elegant flower-garden.
They put their ground together, and erected a little hill in the centre,
with a path all round it, and all the borders they planted with roses,
and cockscombs, and mignonette, and sweet-peas, and many other pretty
flowers; and when the flowers came out, their garden gave quite a
brilliant appearance to the place.

The boys had also a very large play-ground, and in it their kind
teacher had had a number of gymnastic poles put up, for their healthy
exercise and amusement. There was one very high pole, with four strong
ropes fastened to the top of it, and an iron ring at the ends of the
ropes. The boys would take hold of the rings, and run round as fast as
they could; then lifting their feet off the ground, away they would fly
in the air, round and round, like so many little crazy monkeys. There
was one little chap that could climb up one of the ropes like a cat, and
hang upon the top of the pole.

Then they had swinging-bars, and jumping-bars, with a spring-board to
jump from, and wooden horses, and a climbing-pole, and several other
things; but, what was better than all, they had a funny little ragged
pony, and a short-legged, long-eared donkey, for their especial use, and
many were the fine rides they had on their backs.

Sometimes, to be sure, the pony had a fashion of dancing a slow jig on
his hind-legs, with his fore-feet in the air; but the boys were used to
that, and stuck on until the dance was finished; then the pony would
trot off very peaceably.

The donkey, too, had a way of putting his nose to the ground, and
pitching his rider, head over heels, on the grass. But the boys were
used to that too, and did not mind it in the least. They would jump up
and shake themselves, and try again, and by dint of poking and punching
the sides of the sulky little animal, he would after a while make up his
mind to go. When he had once done _that_, it was all right. You would
think he was the most amiable donkey in the world. The pony's name was
"Napoleon," and the boys called the donkey "Old Pudding-head."

Twice a-week during the summer, Mr. Harrison took the boys to bathe in a
fine pond, where such as could would swim, and the rest would tumble
about in the water; and altogether he was so kind to them that the boys
thought there never was a better teacher, or such a famous
boarding-school.

I have not yet told you that they learned anything. I suppose you all
think that playing was the principal thing they went to that school for.
But if you do, you make a great mistake, for the greater part of every
day was spent in the school-room.

Mr. Harrison made school-time very pleasant. He seldom had to punish a
boy for bad conduct or neglect in getting his lessons. He always
encouraged them to ask questions about their studies, and told them
never to learn anything by rote, like a parrot, but to come to him when
they did not understand a lesson; and he always made it so clear that it
was a pleasure to learn. Sometimes a boy would ask a foolish question,
which would make the rest laugh; but then Mr. Harrison would say it was
better to be laughed at for trying to learn, than to grow up a dunce.

In this way the boys would improve so much, both in mind and body, that
their parents left them with Mr. Harrison as long as he could keep them;
and both the boys and their parents were very sorry when the time came
for them to leave, for Mr. Harrison would not take any boy after he was
fourteen years of age.

One afternoon after school, the boys were all busy weeding in their
gardens, when one of them suddenly cried out, "Phil, do you know how
long it is to the Fifth of November?"

"To be sure I do," answered Philip; "it is just four weeks and four
days."

"So it is, I declare," said Thomas, the first boy who had spoken. "Boys,
I'll tell you what we will do. Let us all write to our parents for an
immense lot of fireworks; then we will club together, and keep all,
except the crackers, for a grand display of fireworks in the evening."

"Oh yes, yes," cried all the boys, "that is an excellent idea."

"I will ask Mr. Harrison," said Phil, "to help us fix the wheels and so
forth, for all I ever fixed myself stuck fast, and would not go round at
all."

"I mean to write for some Roman candles," said Frank; "they look so
beautiful going up. They look like planets with wings."

"_I_ will ask for some snakes and grasshoppers," said another; "it is
such fun to see the boys racing round to get out of the way of them."

"We'll make some wooden pistols to put the crackers in," said another
boy.

"Yes, and I will send for a little brass cannon that my uncle, Major
Brown, gave me," said another.

Just then the bell rang for tea, and the boys, putting their little
rakes and hoes into their tool-house, ran in to wash their faces and
hands, and brush their hair. Then they took off their blouses, which
they wore when at work in the garden, and hung them up in the play-room.
They had a nice large play-room for playing in when the weather was
unpleasant.

It was astonishing what large quantities of bread and butter, and
apple-sauce, these boys consumed for their supper, for working
out-of-doors in the fresh country air is sure to make people hungry, and
boys especially are always ready for eating. After supper, Mr. Harrison
read prayers, while all the boys knelt at their chairs around the table.
Then they were permitted to play out-of-doors again until the sunset.
Phil and Frank allowed themselves to be harnessed to a hand-wagon, and
galloped off at full speed, with two of the smaller boys in it. The rest
had a game at leap-frog; and Mr. Harrison and his family sat in the
porch watching and admiring the gorgeous tints lent to the clouds by the
rays of the setting sun, and sometimes laughing heartily at the capers
of the boys.

At length the sun sank beneath the horizon, and Mr. Harrison said,
"Come in, boys." He never had to speak more than once, for the boys were
so well governed that they found it to their advantage and happiness to
obey directly. So they came in as quietly as they could, and went into
the study, where Mr. Harrison soon joined them, and read aloud an
interesting book of travels for an hour. Then they went up stairs to
bed.

One evening, not long after this, the boys were all together in the
sitting-room. Philip was reading a book in which was an anecdote about a
bad boy who had frightened another, by coming into his room at night,
with his face apparently in a blaze, and looking, as the terrified child
thought, like a flaming dragon. All at once, Phil shut the book, and
said, "I say, boys, I will show you a funny thing, if you will put out
the light, and it will be useful to you too. But first, let me read this
story to you, and then we will try the game, and none of you little
chaps will be frightened, because you will know what it is."

So saying, he read the story, which interested the boys very much
indeed, and made them all eager for Philip's experiment.

Phil took a box of matches from the mantelpiece, and gave some to each
of the boys; but suddenly he cried, "Wait a moment: I will be back
before you can say Jack Robinson," and ran out of the room.

He went out to ask Mr. Harrison's permission to try this experiment. Mr.
Harrison said, "I am glad, my dear boy, you have come first to me; I
believe I can always trust you. You may try your plan, and I will go
with you and join in your amusement."

The boys were glad to see their teacher. He often helped them in their
plays; and they were never afraid to frolic and laugh before him.

So Phil blew out the light, and then told the boys to take a match, and
wet it on the tip of the tongue, and rub it on the sides of their faces,
and they would soon have a pair of fiery whiskers apiece, without its
burning them in the least.

In a moment all the boys had flaming whiskers, and streaks of flame all
over their faces.

Peals of laughter resounded from all sides. Such a troop of little
blazing imps were never seen before. Some had noses on fire, some ears;
some made fiery circles round their eyes, and some rubbed their fingers
with the matches--always taking care to wet them first--and ran after
the rest.

Only one person was frightened; and that was because she had not been
let into the secret. This was a servant girl, who opened the door, and
seeing a room full of dark figures, with faces on fire, dancing, and
laughing, and capering about, she ran, screaming, up stairs, crying,
"Murder! Fire! Help!" with all her might, which made the boys laugh till
they were nearly suffocated. But Phil ran after her, and with much
difficulty persuaded her that they were really human beings, and good
friends of hers.

After they had danced about for some time, Mr. Harrison advised them to
go and wash their faces, and said that they had better not play this
game again, as some accident might occur: a match might get lighted and
set fire to their clothes. He said he had been willing to let them try
it once, for then they would not be frightened if any wicked or
thoughtless person should play a trick of this kind upon them. So the
boys put up the matches, and went off to bed full of the fun they had
had, and saying, that if they saw a person with his nose on fire, coming
into their rooms at night, they would take hold of it, and give it a
good pinching.

During this time, each of the boys had written home for fireworks; and
for two or three days before the Fifth of November, all kinds of boxes,
directed to the different boys, had been left at Mr. Harrison's house,
and safely locked up by him, until the right time.

At last the day came. The boys tumbled out of bed in the greatest
hurry, dressed, and went out on the lawn, where they gave nine hearty
cheers; three for the day, three for Mr. Harrison, and three for fun.
After that they all ran into the play-room, where they found the boxes,
which had been put there the night before.

Never were boxes opened so quickly. They tore off the tops, and for some
moments nothing was heard on all sides but "Only look here," and "Just
see _here_;" "Boys, here is my cannon;" "Here are lots of Roman
candles," &c.

They had crackers enough between them all to keep them busy the whole
day, and they soon got to work at them, and such a popping and cracking
began, as frightened all the cats and dogs about the house into the
woods.

It was fortunate that the house was situated on a hill, away from any
other; so Mr. Harrison let them make as much noise as they pleased,
without fear of disturbing any neighbours.

Presently the bell rang for prayers, and directly after that they had
breakfast; but the bread and milk and honey were not so much in favour
as usual, for the boys were so full of the Fifth of November, that they
had no time to think of honey.

Nearly all the fireworks were piled up on a seat against the wall in the
play-room. The boys were firing their crackers from their wooden
pistols, at some distance from the house.

For some time everything went on well. Mr. Harrison had strictly
forbidden them to have any fire in or near the play-room, and they were
careful to obey him. But, alas! I must tell you what happened through
the thoughtlessness of one of the boys. He was the youngest and smallest
of them all. He had fired off the crackers he had taken out, and he ran
into the play-room to get more. He held in his hand a piece of punk. All
boys know that this is what they use to light their fireworks, as it
burns very slowly, and lasts very long. The punk which the little fellow
held was burning. He had forgotten to lay it down. He went to the seat
where the fireworks were, and began to pull them about to find his
crackers.

As he was leaning over, the punk slipped from his fingers, and fell into
the midst of the combustibles.

The little fellow was so terribly frightened at this, that he rushed out
of the room, without trying to pick it up.

In a moment the fireworks all began to go off together. Pop! crack!
fizz! bang! whizz! went the elegant wheels and the crackers, the
grasshoppers, the Roman candles and the snakes, while the smoke rushed
through the house.

Mr. Harrison ran out of his room where he was reading, and saw,
instantly, that the house was in great danger of being burned down. The
boys heard the noise, and came flying back to the play-room, to save
what they could; but it was impossible to enter. The room was black with
smoke, and they looked on dismayed, as they heard the popping and
banging of their precious fireworks, while "Who did it?" "Who did it?"
was asked on all sides.

Mr. Harrison instantly shut all the doors leading to the play-room, and,
quicker than I can tell you, he got some pails of water, and threw them
into the room. After some effort, he succeeded in quenching the fire,
and ending this display of fireworks, which was a very different one
from what had been intended.

But what a sight presented itself! There lay the blackened remnants of
the wheels and Roman candles, and a large hole was burned in the side of
the room. The blouses of the boys, which hung just above, were burned,
some one arm, some both; and the room looked like desolation.

After the fright, and hurry, and confusion, were over, Mr. Harrison
called all the boys into the study. He looked very much offended,
indeed; and asked in a stern voice, "Which boy went into the play-room
with fire?"

The poor little fellow who had done the mischief was crying bitterly. It
was very easy to see that he was the guilty one, for the rest looked
grave, but not confused.

"Come to me, Edwin," said Mr. Harrison, "and tell me if you have
disobeyed me; don't be afraid to speak the truth."

"I did not mean to do it," sobbed the little boy. "I forgot to leave my
punk outside, and I dropped it by accident. I am very, very sorry, Mr.
Harrison. I am afraid all the boys will hate me, because I have spoiled
their sport. I hope you will forgive me, sir." And here his tears and
sobs redoubled.

"Edwin," said his kind teacher, "do you not know that my house might
have been burned to the ground by your carelessness?--and this night,
which we expected to spend so joyfully, we might have been without a
roof to cover us? I must punish you to make you remember this accident,
which your thoughtless disobedience has occasioned. You must remain in
the study until dinner-time. The rest of the boys may go out."

When the boys were out on the lawn again, they got together in a knot,
to talk about the accident. Some were very angry with Edwin, and said
Mr. Harrison ought to have given him a tremendous flogging; but others
were more generous. They were just as sorry for the loss of their
fireworks; but, when they looked towards the house, and saw little Edwin
gazing mournfully at them from the study window, and wiping away the
tears that fell from his eyes, they were more sorry for him, and wished
that he could be out among them. Still, they knew it was right that he
should be punished.

"Come, boys," said Phil, when they had been standing there talking some
time,--"come, let us go and see if anything is left."

They all ran to the play-room, and some of the boys cried out to
Edwin,--

"Don't cry, little fellow; we forgive you."

"Why here," shouted Phil--"here's a lot of Roman candles all safe and
sound. Hurrah!"

"And here are six wheels in this corner," cried Thomas. "We are not so
badly off, after all."

The boys at this good news began to rummage under the pile of ruins, and
managed to collect quite a respectable quantity of fireworks. There were
enough left to make a display with in the evening, though not near so
splendid as they had intended.

"Hurrah!" cried the boys, "we have plenty of Fifth of November left."

"I have lots of crackers outside," said Phil; "but we won't fire them
off now. They will do for the small boys to-night. Let us go to the
stable, and pay our respects to Napoleon, and Old Pudding-head. They
will think themselves quite neglected on this glorious occasion."

So they sallied off to the stable, and saddled the pony and the donkey,
and led them out to the play-ground, where Napoleon treated them in turn
to a very fine dance on his hind-legs, and Old Pudding-head, not to be
behindhand in politeness, gave all the little boys a somersault over his
nose. They had a first-rate frolic, and did not think once of the lost
fireworks.

After dinner--and a fine dinner they had of chickens, and goose-pie, and
custard--Mr. Harrison took the boys (little Edwin, too) down into the
village, where a band of musicians were playing and parading through the
street. Every little while they would stop playing and hurrah! The boys
always hurrahed when the band did, for boys in general are not slow
about making a noise. So they made all the noise they possibly could,
and came back to tea, each one so hoarse, that Mrs. Harrison asked them
if they had frogs in their throats.

At last the evening came, and a still and beautiful evening it was. The
stars peeped out, one by one, and the moon stayed in--that is, she did
not make her appearance until very late. They could not have had a finer
night for the grand display.

The family were all assembled on the lawn, and Mr. Harrison fixed the
wheels so nicely, that they whizzed round in the most astonishing
manner. The Roman candles went up beautifully, and the grasshoppers and
snakes sent the little fellows laughing and scampering in all
directions.

The hurrahing was tremendous, and the shouts of laughter were tremendous
too.

Altogether they had a very nice time, and went off to bed tired, it is
true, but highly pleased with their day's enjoyment--all except little
Edwin. He sighed many times, and could hardly get to sleep; but his
carelessness was a good lesson to him, for it afterwards made him the
most careful boy in the school.

After the Fifth of November, the boys settled down into their usual
employments. Their gardens were carefully tended, and many a fine
bouquet of flowers was presented with pride and pleasure to Mrs.
Harrison. They ate pumpkin-pie, made with their own pumpkins, and
thought them the most delicious pumpkins that ever grew; and their
melons were the sweetest melons they ever tasted in all their lives.

They were very attentive in school also; and at the end of the term,
when the boys were preparing to go home for the holidays, they all said
it was the pleasantest time they had ever spent together. They parted
with their kind teacher with many thanks for his kindness, and hopes
that after the holidays all would meet together again, and be as happy
as before.




THE CHRISTMAS PARTY.


Mr. and Mrs. Percy had seven grandchildren, all very pretty and very
good. These children did not all have the same father and mother--that
is, Mr. and Mrs. Percy's eldest son had three children, whose names were
Mary, and Carry, and Thomas; and one of their daughters was married, and
had three children--their names were Willy, and Bella, and Fanny; and
their youngest son was married and had one child. Her name was Sarah.
She was the youngest of the children, and they all loved her very much,
and her Grandma made a great pet of her.

The children and their parents had been invited to eat a Christmas
dinner with their Grandma, and they had been promised a little dance in
the evening. Even little Sarah was to go, and stay to the ball, as she
called it. They were glad, for they liked to go to their dear Grandma's
very much.

At last Christmas came. It was a bright, frosty day; the icicles that
hung from the iron railing, sparkled as the sun shone upon them, and the
little boys in the streets made sliding ponds of the gutters, and did
not mind a bit when they came down on their backs, but jumped up and
tried it again; and a great many people were hurrying along with large
turkeys to cook for their Christmas dinner, and everybody looked very
happy indeed.

After these children, about whom I am telling you, came back from
church, they were dressed very nicely, and although they lived in three
different houses, they all got to their Grandma's very nearly at the
same time. The first thing they did was to run up to their Grandma, and
wish her a merry Christmas, and kiss her, and say that they hoped she
felt quite well. Then they did the same to their Grandpa and Aunties,
for they had two dear, kind aunts, who lived with their Grandparents.
Then they all hugged and kissed each other, and jumped about so much,
that some kissed noses and some kissed chins, and little Sarah was
almost crazy with delight, for she had never been to so large a party
before.

"Grandma," said Willy, "I hung up my stocking last night, and what do
you think I got in it?"

His Grandma guessed that he got a birch-rod.

"No," said Willy, laughing, "I got a doughnut in the shape of a monkey
with a long tail; I ate the monkey for my breakfast, and it was very
good indeed."

The children all laughed at this, and Bella, Willy's sister, who was
the oldest of all the children, said she thought Willy had a
monkey-_look_ about him. So he went by the name of the monkey-eater for
the rest of the day.

Soon the bell rang for dinner, and they all went down stairs; for the
children and grown people were to dine together. It was now quite dark,
and the chandelier that hung over the table was lighted, the curtains
were drawn close, the fire burnt brightly, and the table-cloth was so
white and fine that it looked like satin.

The happy party sat down at a large round table, and the children's eyes
looked so bright and their cheeks so rosy, that it was the pleasantest
sight in the world to see. Little Sarah could not help having a great
many little laughs all to herself. She could not keep them in. She was
only four years old, so you may suppose she could not look very grave
and stiff on such a delightful occasion.

When Willy saw his little cousin Sarah trying to hide her sparkling
eyes, and her funny little laugh behind her mother's arm, he felt just
as if somebody was tickling him. So he pinched his lips together very
tight indeed, and casting his eyes up to the ceiling, tried to look as
grave as a judge. But it would not do; he burst out into such a fit of
laughing, that everybody else laughed too, and it was a long time before
they could get their faces straight enough to eat their dinner.

Would you like to know what they had for dinner? Well, I will tell you.
After their Grandpa had asked a blessing, they had some very nice soup.
The children did not care for soup. Then they had a fish stuffed with
all sorts of things, and stewed, and the grown people said the fish was
very nice; but the little ones did not care for that either. They then
had some roast beef and a boiled turkey with oysters. The children all
took turkey; Willy asked for a drum-stick, and his cousin Mary said he
wanted it to beat the monkey he ate in the morning. Bella chose a
merry-thought; little Sarah liked a hug-me-fast; Carry took a
wishing-bone; Thomas said he would have the other drum-stick to help
beat the monkey, and Fanny thanked her Grandma for a wing, so that she
could fly away when the beating of the monkey took place.

But this was not half the good things, for they afterwards had some
delicious game, such as partridges, and woodcocks, and some fried
oysters. All this pleased the grown people most. The children saved
their appetites for the dessert. Well, after this, the cloth was taken
off, and under that was another table-cloth just as white and fine as
the first.

Then came something that was quite astonishing. What do you think it
was? It was a great plum-pudding all on fire! it blazed away terribly,
and Willy thought they had better send for the fire-engines to put it
out; but it was blown out very easily, and the children each had a very
small piece, because it was too rich to eat much of, and their parents
did not wish to make them ill.

After that there came ice-creams, and jellies, and sweetmeats, that were
perfectly delicious; and then the other white cloth was taken off, and
under that was a beautiful red one. Then the servants put on the table
what the children liked best of all, and that was a dish of fine
motto-kisses, and oranges, and grapes, and other nice fine fruits.

The children sent the mottoes to each other, and had a great deal of
sport. Some one sent Willy this:--

    "O William, William, 'tis quite plain to see
     That all your life you will a monkey be."

He thought his cousin Mary had sent it, because he saw that she was
trying very hard to look grave, so he sent this to her:--

    "Dear Mary, you are too severe--
     You are too bad, I do declare;
     Your motto has upset me quite,
     I shan't get over it to-night."

Mary laughed when she read it, and said she had been just as cruel to
Thomas, for she had sent him this:--

    "The rose is red, the violet blue,
     The grass is green and so are you."

They had a good laugh at Thomas, but as he laughed as hard as any one,
it did no harm. Little Sarah had a great many mottoes. Her Mamma read
them to her, and it pleased her very much. She said it was a very nice
play, but she was tired with sitting such a long time at table, so her
Mother let her slip down from her chair.

Very soon all the rest got up, and went up stairs into the
drawing-room. But what was that in the middle of the room? It seemed to
be a large table covered all over with a red cloth. What could it be?
Willy said, "Grandma, that table looks as if something was on it;" and
little Sarah said, "Grandma, I guess Old Father Christmas has been
here."

[Illustration]

"Yes, dear children," said their Grandma, "Father Christmas has been
here, and this time he looked very much like your Grandpa. He will be up
soon, and then we will see what is on the table."

Oh how the children did wish to peep! They could not look at anything
else; they danced and jumped round the table, and were in a great hurry
for their Grandpa. In a few minutes he came into the room, and all the
children ran up to him and said, "Dear Grandpa, do let us see what you
have got on the table."

He smiled, and went to the table and took the cloth off. The children
were so astonished that they could not say a single word; the table was
covered with beautiful things, and under it was something that looked
like a little red-brick house.

"Well," said their kind Grandpa, "my dear children, you did not think
you were going to be treated with such a fine show as this; you may go
up to the table, and see if you can find out who they are for." The
children gathered round the table, and Willy took from the top a fine
brig with all her sails set, and colours flying. His eyes sparkled when
he saw written on a slip of paper which lay on the deck, these words;
"For my dear Willy." The children clapped their hands, and nothing was
heard, but "How beautiful!" "What a fine ship!" "It is a brig of war,"
said Willy: "only look at the little brass guns on her deck! Thank you,
thank you, dear Grandpa. What is the name of my ship?"

"Her name is painted on her stern," said his Grandpa. Willy looked, and
saw that she was called the "Louisa." He blushed, and looked very funny,
and the other children laughed, for Willy knew a very pretty little girl
whose name was Louisa, and he liked her very much; and that was what
made them laugh when they heard the name.

After they had all admired the brig, they went back to the table, and
there were two beautiful books, full of engravings or pictures, one for
Bella and one for Mary; and next to these was a large wax doll for
Carry, and another for Fanny. Carry's doll was dressed in blue satin,
with a white satin hat and a lace veil, and Fanny's doll was dressed in
pink satin with a black velvet hat and feathers--their eyes opened and
shut, and they had beautiful faces.

How delighted the little girls were! They hugged their dolls to their
little breasts, and then ran to hug and kiss their Grandpa. Carry said,
"My dolly's name shall be Rose;" and Fanny said, "My dolly's name shall
be Christmas, because I got her on Christmas-day."

Well I must hurry and tell you the rest, for I am afraid my story is
getting too long. Thomas found for him a splendid menagerie, and all the
animals made noises like real animals. There were roaring lions, and
yelling tigers, and laughing hyenas, and braying asses, and chattering
monkeys, and growling bears, and many other wild beasts. Oh, how pleased
Thomas was, and all the children!

Little Sarah did nothing but jump up and down, and say, "So many things!
So many things! I never saw so many things!"

But who was to have the little house under the table, I wonder? There
was a little piece of paper sticking out of the chimney, and Sarah
pulled it out and carried it to her Grandpa. He took her up in his arms,
and read it to her. What was written on it was, "A baby-house for my
little darling Sarah."

"Why, I guess this must be for you," said Grandpapa.

"Yes, it is for me," said the little girl; "my name is Sarah, and it
must be for me."

Her Grandpa put her down, and led her to the table. He drew the little
house out, and opened it. The whole front of the house opened, and
there, inside, were two rooms; one was a parlour, and one a bedroom. The
children all cried out, "What a fine baby-house! Look at the
centre-table, and the red velvet chairs; and only see the elegant
curtains! Oh dear! how beautiful it is!"

Little Sarah did not say a word. She stood before the baby-house with
her hands stretched out, and jumped up and down, her eyes shining like
diamonds. She was too much pleased to speak. She looked so funny jumping
up and down all the time, that she made Willy laugh again, and then
everybody laughed.

At last she said, "There is a young lady sitting in the chair with a
red sash on. I think she wants to come out."

"Well, you may take her out," said her Grandpa. So Sarah took the young
lady out, and then took up the chairs and sofa, one by one, and smoothed
the velvet, and looked at the little clock on the mantelpiece, and
opened the little drawers of the bureau; and then putting them down, she
began to jump again.

There was never such a happy party before. The children hardly wished to
dance, they were so busy looking at their presents. But after a little
while they had a very nice dance. One of their aunts played for them;
she played so well, and kept such nice time, that it was quite a
pleasure to hear her.

It was now quite late, and little Sarah had fallen fast asleep on the
sofa, with the young lady out of the baby-house clasped tight to her
little bosom. So they wrapped her up, doll and all, in a great shawl,
and the rest put on their nice warm coats and cloaks; and after a great
deal of hugging and kissing, they got into the carriages with their
parents, and went home happy and delighted.

Thus ended this joyful Christmas-day.




LONDON:

Printed by G. BARCLAY, Castle St. Leicester Sq.