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And off he flew

The window through
By which he gained admission.

“Poor comfort this,

For sums amiss,
And boys gone off a-fishin'!”

THE WOODEN DOLL AND THE WAX DOLL.

JANE TAYLOR.

THERE were two friends, a very charming pair! Brunette the brown, and Blanchidine the fair; And she to love Brunette did constantly incline, Nor less did Brunette love sweet Blanchidine. Brunette in dress was neat, yet always plain; But Blanchidine of finery was vain.

Now Blanchidine a new acquaintance made
A little girl most sumptuously arrayed,
In plumes and ribbons, gaudy to behold,
And India frock, with spots of shining gold.
Said Blanchidine, “A girl so richly dressed
Should surely be by every one caressed.
To play with me if she will condescend,
Henceforth 'tis she alone shall be

my

friend.” And so for this new friend in silks adorned, Her poor Brunette was slighted, left, and scorned, Of Blanchidine's vast stock of pretty toys, A wooden doll her every thought employs;

Its neck so white, so smooth, its cheeks so red
She kiss'd, she fondled, and she took to bed.

Mamma now brought her home a doll of wax,
Its hair in ringlets white, as soft as flax ;
Its eyes could open and its eyes could shut;
And on it, too, with taste its clothes were put.
“My dear wax doll !” sweet Blanchidine would cry-
Her doll of wood was thrown neglected by.

One summer's day, — 'twas in the month of June, -
The sun blazed out in all the heat of noon:
“My waxen doll,” she cried, “my dear, my charmer! !
What, are you cold ? but you shall soon be warmer.”
She laid it in the sun — misfortune dire !
The wax ran down as if before the fire !
Each beauteous feature quickly disappeared,
And melting, left a blank all soil'd and smeared.
Her doll disfigured she beheld amazed,
And thus expressed her sorrow as she gazed:
“Is it for you my heart I have estranged
From that I fondly loved, which has not changed ?
Just so may change my new acquaintance fine,
For whom I left Brunette, that friend of mine.

No more by outside show will I be lured :
Of such capricious whims I think I'm cured :
To plain old friends my heart shall still be true,
Nor change for every face because 'tis new."
Her slighted wooden doll resumed its charms,
And wrong'd Brunette she clasped within her arms.

THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT.

EDWARD LEAR.

THE Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea

In a beautiful pea-green boat;
They took some honey, and plenty of money

Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the moon above,

And sang to a small guitar, “O lovely Pussy ! O Pussy, my love!

What a beautiful Pussy you are, –

You are,

What a beautiful Pussy you are !”

Pussy said to the Owl, “ You elegant fowl !

How wonderful sweet you sing ! O let us be married, — too long we have tarried,

But what shall we do for a ring ?” They sailed away for a year and a day

To the land where the Bong-tree grows, And there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood

With a ring in the end of his nose, –

His nose,

With a ring in the end of his nose.

“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

Your ring ?” Said the piggy, “I will.” So they took it away, and were married next day

By the turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined upon mince and slices of quince,

Which they ate with a runcible spoon,
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon, -

The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

MEDDLESOME MATTY.

JANE TAYLOR

ONE ugly trick has often spoiled

The sweetest and the best ;
Matilda, though a pleasant child,

One ugly trick possessed,
Which, like a cloud before the skies,
Hid all her better qualities.
Sometimes she'd lift the tea-pot lid,

To peep at what was in it;
Or tilt the kettle, if you

did
But turn your back a minute.
In vain you told her not to touch,
Her trick of meddling grew so much.
Her grandmamma went out one day,

And by mistake she laid
Her spectacles and snuff-box gay

Too near the little maid ;
“Ah! well,” thought she, “ I'll try them on,
As soon as grandmamma is gone.”

6

Forthwith she placed upon her nose

The glasses large and wide ; And looking round, as I suppose,

The snuff-box too she spied : “Oh! what a pretty box is that; I'll open it,” said little Matt. “I know that grandmamma would say,

Don't meddle with it, dear';
But then, she's far enough away,

And no one else is near :
Besides, what can there be amiss
In opening such a box as this?”
So thumb and finger went to work

To move the stubborn lid,
And presently a mighty jerk

The mighty mischief did; For all at once, ah! woful case, The snuff came puffing in her face. Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth beside

A dismal sight presented ; In vain, as bitterly she cried,

Her folly she repented. In vain she ran about for ease; She could do nothing now but sneeze. She dash'd the spectacles away,

To wipe her tingling eyes, And as in twenty bits they lay,

Her grandmamma she spies.

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