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" Dear Mother Tabbyskins,

And how are you now?
Let me feel your pulse--so so;

Show your tongue-bow-bow.
Chorus. Very ill, very ill;

Please attempt to purr :
Will you take a draught or pill ?

Which do you prefer?"
Ah ! Mother Tabbyskins,

Who is now afraid ?
Of poor little Doctor Mouse,

You a mouthful made.
Chorus. Very nice, very nice

Little doctor he;
But for Doctor Dog's advice

You must pay the fee.
Doctor Dog comes nearer,

Says she must be bled;
I heard Mother Tabbyskins

Screaming in her bed.
Chorus. Very near, very near,

Scuffling out and in;
Doctor Dog looks full and queer-

Where is Tabbyskin ?
I will tell the Moral

Without any fuss :
Those who lead the young astray

Always suffer thus.
Chorus. Very nice, very nice,

Let our conduct be;
For all doctors are not mice,

Some are dogs, you see !


JEMMY, why do you tease Tom-my so? He does nothing but cry when you are near him.

Jemmy. Mother, he cries for nothing at all. See, I do but whisk this whip before his face, and he screams, though I do not touch him.

Mother. You forget that little children do not un-der-stand that sort of rough play. He thinks you mean to hurt him.

Jemmy. He is such a baby, he is afraid of every-thing. Why, I pre-tend-ed I was going to throw him into the well—he must know I never meant to kill him, but oh! what a noise he made!

Mother. I fear you do not love poor little Tommy; if you did, you could not find it so pleasant to frighten him.

Jemmy. Oh, indeed, I am very fond of him, and I do like playing with him; he is a nice little boy; but he does scream even if I don't hurt him.

Mother. You told me you were very perfect in your Cat-e-chism. Do you re-mem-ber something in it about doing to others as we would wish to be done by ? Now would you like a great gi-ant of a man to catch you up, or pretend to hurt you, or take your things from you ?

Jemmy. I don't think I should mind ; not much. Please, Mother, do not send me any more to the new school. I am one of the least

boys there, and they do tease me so, I cannot bear it.

Mother. Much as you tease little Tommy, I suppose ?

Jemmy. Oh, much worse. They told me my father was a rat-catcher and gave me ratpie, and when I said it was a story, they laugh-ed at me till I cried.

Mother. Then you were like a baby. What harm could such nonsense do you ?

Jemmy. And then they took my knife away from me, and said I was too young to be trusted with one; I should have it when I was bigger.

Mother. And yet you wond-er-ed at Tommy minding it, when you snatch-ed away his bali. That ball was all the world to him—he cared for nothing but it.

Jemmy. Well, I am sorry I did not try to make Tommy happy, and if you will but let me stay at home, or go to my old school, where I was one of the big fellows, I will be so good.

Mother. But you see it was that very thing, being the top of the school, that made you tor-ment Tommy. You were too much used to doing ex-act-ly as you liked, and I believe you will grow up a better boy if you no longer can be a tyrant.


Ann. I am going into the fields to gather some dai-sies to make dai-sy chains to-day. Will you come with me?

Mary. I will come after school, but not now. I want to get to be top of the class, and I cannot do that if I stop away.

Ann. How stupid of you. Who cares who is top of the class ?

Mary. My mo-ther does, ve-ry much, for she wants me to get a place; and af-ter I am a ser-vant I shall not have time for much learn-ing.

Ann. But why do you want to go to service? Do not you like stop-ping at home bet-ter?

Mary. But is it not nice to know how to read ? There are so ma-ny pretty tales in the books they lend us at school, as soon as we can read them.

Ann. I like play bet-ter than a-ny books ; but then I never do get to the top of the class, though I am big-ger than most of them. .

Mary. How can you get to the top if you stay a-way so of-ten?

Ann. Mo-ther lets me do as I like, and I tell you I like play best.

Mary. And yet you told me she beat you so one day, when you came home so wet and dirty from get-ting in-to the pond. Ann. So she did. She gets dread-fully an-gry


some-times about my clothes, and says she can-not af-ford to keep me at home; yet if I can-not read, or write, or do sums, I should get but a poor place.


Master. Tom, bring your slate; you ought to have done your sum by this time. Why, you have not done one stroke. Why is that?

Tom. Please, Sir, I had no slate-pen-cil. I for-got it.

Master. But why did you not ask me for one ?

Tom. Please, Sir, Will Davies said we must not speak.

Master. You must not talk to each other ; but Will Davies and you both know you might ask me for a pencil, and that you must not sit do-ing no-thing all day long.

Tom. Please, Sir, this sum is so hard. I do not know how to do it.

Master. I show-ed you all how to do it today on the black-board ; but did you not look at me?

Tom. Please, Sir, I for-got to look.

Master. I am sor-ry for you, Tom; but I will show you once more, and then you must not have your din-ner till the sum is done. · Will Davies. Please, Sir, Tom beat Polly Wilson, as he came to school, till her nose bled.

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