Excerpt
"Come Jane," said grandmamma one day, "'Tis time you learned to sew; At your age I could make a frock, And you should also know."
But Jane cared little for such things; She liked to make a noise; She used to run about all day, And shout, and play with boys.
So now she only tossed her head And ran with eager feet, And soon was racing up and down, And playing in the street.
Once Jane was to a party asked; Her friends would all be there; She wore her best sprigged muslin frock, And ribbons tied her hair.
When she was shown upstairs to lay Her hat upon the bed, She saw a little basket there, With needles, wax and thread.
"I wonder," said untidy Jane, "If Mattie likes to sew; I'm glad that I have never learned; I should not care to know."
With that she laughed and ran downstairs, But on the way—ah see! She's caught her skirt upon a nail And torn it terribly.
If Jane had learned from grandmamma She might have mended it, But she had been a thoughtless child And could not sew a bit.
So with her frock all torn, into The room she had to go, And all the children wondering stared To see her looking so;
Then when Jane played it caught her feet And almost made her fall; That shamed her so she ran away And tried to hide from all.
When nurse at last was sent for her, How glad was little Jane; She almost thought she never wished To romp or play again.
"Oh! grandmamma, dear grandmamma, Indeed, indeed," said she, "If now you'll teach me how to sew A thankful child I'll be."
BOISTEROUS ANN
A noisy boisterous child was Ann, And very far from good; She did not play the pleasant games That little children should; With rumpled hair and dresses torn She came home every day; In vain mamma said, "Ann, pray learn To be less rude at play."
Now little Ann came home one time In a most piteous plight, For she had fallen in the mud; Indeed she was a sight. The housemaid standing in the door Exclaimed, "What child is this?" "Why, Hannah, can't you see I'm Ann?" Cried out the little miss.
"Our little Ann in rags and dirt, Her hair all out of curl; No, no," cried Hannah; "run away, You little beggar girl. If it is scraps of bread you want Go to the kitchen door; I can't believe you're any child I ever saw before."
Now Ann has to the kitchen run With tears and streaming eyes; "Oh, dear cook, please to let me in: I'm little Ann," she cries. "What little Ann?" the good cook says; "Indeed that cannot be. Our Ann would never wear such rags I'm very sure; not she!"
But as Ann, weeping, turned away, Her little dog ran out, And he began to lick her hands, And bark and jump about. "Why, why," cried cook, "I never saw Dog Towzer act that way, Except when little Ann came home From school or after play."
"And now I look again," she said, "You are our little Ann. Come in and wash and mend your frock, As quickly as you can." Now from that day the little miss Has played less boisterous plays, And been more tidy in her dress And quiet in her ways.
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