O, France is a pretty place! it is warmer than our country: and here are pretty flowers and fine fruit, and large grapes. I never saw such large grapes in all my life. And the vines grow in the fields; they do not grow against walls, as our vines do. And there are a great many people, men and women, and little boys and girls, singing, and dancing about, and so merry! nothing can be like it. I think we will live here, and send for papa and Arthur. Let us go and talk with those people. Here, you little girl! pray give us some of your nice fruit. _Serviteur Monsieur._ What do you say, little girl? I do not understand you. I cannot help that. Here is an old man cutting vines; we will speak to him. Pray, old man, will you give us some of your fruit? We are come a great way to see you. _Serviteur Monsieur._ What do you say? We do not know what _Serviteur Monsieur_ is. It is French. But we do not understand French. I cannot help that; you must go home and learn. And why do you speak French? Because this is France. Did not you know that every body speaks French in France! Ha, ha, ha! He, he, he! Ho, ho, ho! Here is a foolish little boy come a great way over the sea, and does not know that every body speaks French in France. Ha, ha, ha! He, he he! Ho, ho, ho! Here is a foolish little boy come a great way over the sea, and does not know that every body speaks French in France. Ha, ha, ha! He, he, he! Ho, ho, ho! Here is a foolish little boy come a great way over the sea, and does not know that every body speaks French in France. Ha, ha, ha! He, he, he! Ho, ho, ho!--What shall we do, little boy? every body laughs at us; and all the little birds twitter and chirp at us. We will go home again. Farewell, France! We will not go to France again till papa has taught us to talk French. Let us go into the ship again. Blow, wind, sail away ship! Now we are got back again. Pray, papa, teach the little boy French before he goes a great way abroad again. [Illustration] THE BALL PLAYERS. Up goes the ball with might and main, And soon it cometh down again; Ups and down, I've heard them say For many a year, is the world's way! Up goes the ball,--like a goblet-cup; Hold your hand as you send it up! Down it comes,--ere it reach the ground, Catch the ball so firm and round. An up and down, that is the way, With a good round ball, that you must play; Up, high as you can, then down again, Five and five, and a double ten. [Illustration] The world is a ball, and every star, And the sun himself, great balls they are; Round they go, and round about, Ever and ever, yet ne'er are out! Up goes the ball! Oh, if I threw Up to the very sky so blue, Up to the moon, or to Charles Wain, 'Twould be long ere the ball came down again! An up and down--that is the way, With a good round ball, that you must play; Up, high as you can, and down again, Ten and ten, and six times ten!