Who is it, each day in the week may be seen,
With her hair short and smooth, and her hands and face clean;
In a stout cotton gown, of dark and light blue,
Tho' old, so well mended you'd take it for new;
Her handkerchief tidily pinn'd o'er her neck,
With a neat little cap, and an apron of check;
No great flouncing border, no ragged old lace,
But an hem, neatly plaited, sits close round her face.
Her top coat of stuff, and an under of
serge,
Without one hole or rip, either little or large.
Her shoes and her stockings all sound and all clean,
She's never fine outside, and dirty within.
Go, visit her cottage, tho' humble and poor,
'Tis so neat and so clean, you might eat off the floor;
No rubbish, no cobwebs, no dirt could be found,
Tho' you hunt every corner, and search all around.
Who sweeps it so nicely, who makes all the bread,
Who tends her sick mother, and works by her bed?
'Tis the neat Tidy Girl, she needs no other name,
Abroad, or at home, she is always the same.
THE UNTIDY GIRL.
Who is it on Sunday may often be seen
In a light showy gown of red, yellow, and green ?
Her sleeves loose and large, hanging down like two bags,
And a frill round her neck of old lace half in rags.
Her bonnet cocked up to display to the view
Large ringlets of curls, and a great bow of blue;
With white cotton stockings, and slippers so thin,
That the damp and the cold must surely get in ;
But this she don't care for, as pride feels no pain,
And cold is just nothing to one that is vain.
This being the case, she has got but one coat,
And her linen so ragged, 'tis not worth a groat;
Go see her to-morrow, when Sunday is o'er,
You would never desire to look at her more.
All ragged and tatter'd, all dirty and black,
Her clothes are just ready to fall off her back ;
No neat cap or bonnet to cover her head;
Ah! no, she likes twenty curl papers instead.
An old ragged cloak o'er her shoulders is thrown,
And the name of a slattern she cannot disown.
BROTHERLY LOVE.
"Little children, love each other,"
Is the blessed Saviour's rule;
Every little one his brother,
And his playfellow at school.
We're all children of one Father,
That great God who reigns above;
Shall we quarrel? No, much rather
Would we be like Him-all love!
He has plac'd us here together,
That we may be good and kind;
He is ever watching whether
We are one in heart and mind.
Who is stronger than the other?
Let him be the weak one's friend;
Who's more playthings than his brother?
He should like to give or lend.
All they have they share with others,
With kind looks and gentle words;
Thus they live like happy brothers,
And are known to be the Lord's.
ON OBEDIENCE.
O! that it were my chief delight
To do the things I ought;
Then let me try with all my might
To mind what I am taught.
Wherever I am told to go,
I'll cheerfully obey;
Nor will 1 mind it much, although
I leave a pretty play.
When I am bid, I'll freely bring
Whatever I have got:
Nor will I touch a pretty thing
If mother tell me not.
When she permits me, I may tell
About my pretty toys;
But if she's busy or unwell,
I must not make a noise.
For God looks down from heav'n on high,
Our actions to behold;
And He is pleas'd when children try
To do as they are told.
ON EARLY ATTENDANCE AT SCHOOL.
Come, sister, let us haste to school,
Or we shall break that happy rule;
For Teacher says, we should be there
By nine o'clock, the hour of pray'r.
'Tis almost nine, I must away,
I cannot stop to talk or play;
I'll wash my face, and comb my hair,
And so get there in time for prayer.
There Jesus waits with smiling face,
To bless the little infant race;
Let us endeavour to be there
Every day in time for prayer.
THE CHELSEA INFANT SCHOOL.
This is the Chelsea Infant School,
Where we're taught the happy rule;
To love our God and parents kind,
And leave all useless things behind.
*Here the name of any school may be added.
In figures we take great delight,
We spell, and read, and sometimes write;
To sing, and march, we likewise learn,
And useful things come in by turn.
Besides, the girls they learn to sew,
Which is a useful thing, you know;
And still we have our time for play,
We run, and jump, and swing away.
But we must come with faces clean,
Our clothes all whole, fit to be seen;
And only two-pence do we pay
Per week, for learning every day.
We also must attend to time,
Be there before, or just at nine;
And in the afternoon, so true,
Be always in the school at two.
How thankful then I ought to be
To Master, who thus teaches me;
And thank Subscribers, who, in turn,
All pay so much for me to learn.
Then let us all attention pay,
For all our kind instructors say;
And pray that God would bless our school, 1ts friends, and every infant rule.
Oh! who'd not love our Infant School,
Where taught by Teachers dear;
We read and pray, and sing and play,
How happy are we here.
Nor would we lie too late in bed,
And waste our hours in sleep;
But rise and pray, that God all day
Would us in safety keep.
Both face and hands we'll wash so clean,
And neatly comb our hair;
Then haste away, without delay,
To be in time for prayer.
Thus, we should make our Teachers glad,
And we should happy prove ;
For God would smile, and, ere awhile,
Call us to heav'n above.
Sulks, sulks, begone, I prithee, begone from me;
Begone, sulks, begone, I'll have nothing to do with thee.
Oh, no, thou never shalt tarry here,
My temper to hurt and destroy;
So prithee, sulks, haste, and begone,
And leave me sweet peace to enjoy.
Oh! how pretty 'tis to see
Little children all agree!
Try to take the step with me,
Marching to the gallery.
Left foot-right foot-hands behind,
Be unto each other kind;
Love should always be the rule,
When at home, or at the school.
Oh! how pretty 'tis to see
Little children all agree,
While they sing their A B C,
Sitting in the gallery.
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