Thus _something_ very near must be, Although invisible to me; Whate'er I do, it sees me still: O then, good Spirit, guide my will. [Illustration] THE CHATTERBOX. From morning till night it was Lucy's delight To chatter and talk without stopping: There was not a day but she rattled away, Like water for ever a-dropping. No matter at all if the subjects were small, Or not worth the trouble of saying, 'Twas equal to her, she would talking prefer To working, or reading, or playing. You'll think now, perhaps, that there would have been gaps, If she had not been wonderfully clever: That her sense was so great, and so witty her pate, It would be forthcoming for ever; But that's quite absurd, for have you not heard That much tongue and few brains are connected? That they are supposed to think least who talk most, And their wisdom is always suspected? While Lucy was young, had she bridled her tongue, With a little good sense and exertion, Who knows, but she might now have been our delight, Instead of our jest and aversion? JANE AND ELIZA. There were two little girls, neither handsome nor plain; One's name was Eliza, the other's was Jane: They were both of one height, as I've heard people say, They were both of one age, I believe, to a day. 'Twas fancied by some, who but slightly had seen them, That scarcely a difference was there between them; But no one for long in this notion persisted, So great a distinction there really existed. Eliza knew well that she could not be pleasing, While fretting and fuming, while sulky or teasing; And therefore in company artfully tried, Not to _break_ her bad habits, but only to _hide_. So, when she was out, with much labour and pain, She contrived to look almost as pleasant as Jane; But then you might see, that in forcing a smile, Her mouth was uneasy, and ached all the while. And in spite of her care, it would sometimes befall, That some cross event happen'd to ruin it all; And because it might chance that her share was the worst, Her temper broke loose, and her dimples dispersed. But Jane, who had nothing she wanted to hide, And therefore these troublesome arts never tried, Had none of the care and fatigue of concealing, But her face always show'd what her bosom was feeling. At home or abroad there was peace in her smile, A cheerful good nature that needed no guile. And Eliza work'd hard, but could never obtain The affection that freely was given to Jane. [Illustration] SLEEPY HARRY. "I do not like to go to bed," Sleepy little Harry said; "Go, naughty Betty, go away, I will not come at all, I say!"