"But why should you dread the poor insect, my dear? If it _hurt_ you, there'd be some excuse for your fear; But its little black legs, as it hurried away, Did but tickle your arm, as they went, I dare say. "For _them_ to fear _us_ we must grant to be just, Who in less than a moment can tread them to dust; But certainly _we_ have no cause for alarm; For, were they to try, they could do us no harm. "Now look! it has got to its home; do you see What a delicate web it has spun in the tree? Why here, my dear Ann, is a lesson for you: Come learn from this spider what patience can do! "And when at your business you're tempted to play, Recollect what you see in this insect to-day, Or else, to your shame, it may seem to be true, That a poor little spider is wiser than you." [Illustration] FOR A NAUGHTY LITTLE GIRL. My sweet little girl should be cheerful and mild, She must not be fretful and cry! Oh! why is this passion? remember, my child, GOD sees you, who lives in the sky. That dear little face, that I like so to kiss, How alter'd and sad it appears! Do you think I can love you so naughty as this, Or kiss you, all wetted with tears? Remember, though GOD is in Heaven, my love, He sees you within and without, And always looks down, from His glory above, To notice what you are about. [Illustration] If I am not with you, or if it be dark, And nobody is in the way, His eye is as able your doings to mark, In the night as it is in the day. Then dry up your tears and look smiling again, And never do things that are wrong; For I'm sure you must feel it a terrible pain, To be naughty and crying so long. We'll pray, then, that GOD may your passion forgive, And teach you from evil to fly; And then you'll be happy as long as you live, And happy whenever you die. [Illustration] [Illustration] THE CHILD'S MONITOR. The wind blows down the largest tree, And yet the wind I cannot see! Playmates far off, who have been kind, My thought can bring before my mind; The past by it is present brought, And yet I cannot see my thought; The charming rose scents all the air, Yet I can see no perfume there. Blithe Robin's notes how sweet, how clear! From his small bill they reach my ear, And whilst upon the air they float, I hear, yet cannot see a note. When I would do what is forbid, By _something_ in my heart I'm chid; When good, I think, then quick and pat, That _something_ says, "My child, do that:" When I too near the stream would go, So pleased to see the waters flow, That _something_ says, without a sound, "Take care, dear child, you may be drown'd:" And for the poor whene'er I grieve, That _something_ says, "A penny give."