Baby Chatterbox | Page 6

and?was as black as night, as you may see by?the picture. He liked nothing better than?to meet me outside the house and have a?romp, and he would take me all round the?barn and show me the ducks, and hens, and?the nice little chickens, and wheel me round?in the baby-carriage, while he capered and?danced about like a high-mettled steed. I?can tell you we had plenty of fun, and father?often used to wonder how it was I liked?Washington so much, but it was only because?he was more kind and considerate?than any of the other servants. His old?mother lived in a little cottage with his?younger brother and sister, and he used to?take me round there sometimes, and they?had always something new to show me.
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THE YOUNG MONKEY.
A little Monkey chanced to find?A walnut in its outward rind;?He snatched the prize with eager haste,?And bit it, but its bitter taste?Soon made him throw the fruit away.?"I've heard," he cried, "my mother say?(But she was wrong), the fruit was good;?Preserve me from such bitter food!"?A monkey by experience taught,?The falling prize with pleasure caught;?Took off the husk and broke the shell,?The kernel peeled, and liked it well.?"Walnuts," said he, "are good and sweet,?But must be opened ere you eat."?And thus in life you'll always find?Labor comes first,--reward behind.
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DON'T YOU LIKE MY CAT?
I like my cat, I like him well,?As all the house may see?I like him for himself, and not?Because the cat likes me.
He counts his only work in life,?To flourish and be fat;?And this he does with all his might;--?Of course, I like my cat.
His eyes shine out beneath his brows,?As eyes have rarely shone;?His beauty is the grandest thing?That ever cat put on.
He wears a paw of wondrous bulk,?With secret claws to match,?And puts a charm in all its play,?The pat, the box, the scratch.
I have not heard how cats are made?Within their furry veil,?But rather fancy Tippo's thoughts?Lie chiefly in his tail.
For while in every other part?His portly person sleeps,?That bushy tail, with steady wave,?A ceaseless vigil keeps.
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A LARK IN A CRICKET-GROUND.
A few days ago I was passing through?Sonning, an old English village on the?Thames, when I was attracted to a field near?the road by hearing the merry sounds of the?village school at a game of cricket. I could?not resist the pleasure of pausing to watch the?boys at play. Before long my curiosity was?aroused by shouts of "Look out!" "Take care!"?"Mind where you're going!" whenever any?boy approached a certain spot, which seemed?to be within a few yards of one of the wickets.?I asked one of the party what such outcries?meant. He replied--"Oh, that's our lark,?sir!" On inquiry I found that some weeks?before, the boys discovered a titlark's nest?in the ground close to their cricket-piece.?One of the boys seems to have made the suggestion?that the school should take the lark?under their special patronage. The proposal?was adopted, and it became a daily?business to see, before settling to their?play, that all was right with the lark.
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HELPING MOTHER.
I shall help mother when I am grown big;?When I am old enough, oh! wont I dig,?Plough with the horses, and call out "Gee-ho!"?Plant the potatoes, fell timber, and mow?
Then I shall fetch the cows home to the byre,?Carry such fagots to make mother's fire,?Reap and make hay--Hush! who calls? I shant go!?Its only to play with the baby, I know.
A boy who is seven is too big to do that,?Can't mother nurse her, or give her the cat??Oh, what a bother! She's calling me still--?"Come and take the baby off my hands, Bill."
"I must get your father's socks finished to-night,?And I can't while the little girl pulls the thread tight;?There--lift him up, play at ball or Peep-bo--?You will help mother then very greatly you know."
Bill waited a moment. Then into his mind?Came a thought,--"Little boy, if you don't feel inclined?To help mother now, when you easily can,?I'm afraid you won't do it when you are a man."
So he brightened his face till the baby smiled too;?Hid himself in the cupboard and called out "Cuckoo."?And on his knee fed her with delicious cream,?And helping mother was not so bad it would seem.
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A FOUR-FOOTED THIEF.
The Paris Figaro says:--"On Friday a?new kind of robber was arrested not?far from a hatter's, and holding a hat between?his teeth. When efforts were made to take?the hat away he stood on the defensive, and?there was a fight, which ended very badly?for the hat. The thief was a dog. His?master, who has not yet been found, had?taught him to bring home goods to him for?sale, and the hatter accuses him of having?carried off no less than six hats within a?week."
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THE PERFORMING MONKEYS.
Amusing creatures! I can look at the?picture with pleasure, because they?are evidently well treated, and have not the?miserably cowed expression we see upon?many of the monkeys that go about our?streets. Sometimes when I have given a?monkey