So they both went slowly down, And walked about the town, With a cheerful bumpy sound, As they toddled round and round; And everybody cried, As they hastened to their side, “See! the Table and the Chair!” IV. But in going down an alley, To a castle in a valley, They completely lost their way, And wandered all the day; Till, to see them safely back, They paid a Ducky-quack, And a Beetle, and a Mouse, Who took them to their house. V. Then they whispered to each other, “O, delightful little brother, What a lovely walk we’ve taken! Let us dine on beans and bacon.” So the Ducky and the leetle Browny-Mousy and the Beetle Dined, and danced upon their heads Till they toddled to their beds. —_Edward Lear._ _Tom, Tom._ [Illustration] Tom, Tom, the piper’s son, Stole a pig and away he run! The pig was eat, and Tom was beat, And Tom went roaring down the street. [Illustration] _Eye Winker, Tom Tinker._ Eye winker, Tom tinker, Nose dropper, Mouth eater, Chin chopper, Chin chopper. THE BRAVE BROTHER. I was scared almost to death When I heard my sister Beth Screeching loud and crying. But I ran and took a stick, And I tell you, pretty quick, I had taught our goose a trick, And had sent him flying. Girls are always frightened stiff, Just as sister Beth was, if That cross, ugly gander Flies across the garden fence. And they always will commence Screaming,—’stead of having sense And showing out some dander. I made believe, with all my might, He was a dragon, dressed in white, With his fiery red mouth grinning,— Like that one mother read about, That old St. George marched forth and fought, And beat and killed him out and out Almost in the beginning. And once I heard my father say, “It’s pretty sure to be the way, When you’re awful frightened, If you fight till you’re ’most dead, Bravely, you’ll come out ahead;” But sister told me mother said, “You might,—and then you mightn’t!” —_Lillian Howard Cort._ [Illustration] [Illustration] You’d scarce expect one of my age To speak in public or on the stage; And if I chance to fall below Demosthenes or Cicero, Don’t view me with a critic’s eye, But pass my imperfections by. Large streams from little fountains flow, Tall oaks from little acorns grow. —_David Everett._ THERE’S NOTHING LIKE THE ROSE. [Illustration] The lily has an air, And the snowdrop a grace, And the sweet-pea a way, And the heart’s-ease a face— Yet there’s nothing like the rose When it blows.