That day, the geese made a solemn vow, Which their faithful children keep till now, That, never shall goose or gosling look At any school-master or his book. So, if ever you should chance to hear Them talking of school, don't think it queer If they say some hard things, or appear To show a certain degree of fear; It is always so with geese, my dear. [Illustration: "LADY-BIRD, FLY AWAY HOME!"] PARISIAN CHILDREN. BY HENRY BACON. [Illustration] Parisians adore the sunshine. On a sunny day the many squares and parks are peopled by children dressed in gay costumes, always attended by parents or nurses. The old gingerbread venders at the gates find a ready sale for chunks of coarse bread (to be thrown to the sparrows and swans), hoops, jump-ropes, and wooden shovels,--for the little ones are allowed to dig in the public walks as if they were on private grounds and heirs of the soil. Here the babies build their miniature forts, while the sergents-de-ville (or policemen), who are old soldiers, look kindly on, taking special care not to trample the fortifications as they pass to and fro upon their rounds. Here future captains and admirals sail their miniature fleet, and are as helplessly horror-stricken when the graceful swans sally out and attack their little vessels, as when from Fortress Monroe the spectators watched the "Merrimac" steam down upon the shipping in the roads. [Illustration: EXTREMES MEET.] Here the veterans, returned again to childhood, bask in the sun, and, watching the fort-building, forget their terrible campaigns amidst snows and burning sands, delighting to turn an end of the jumping rope or to trot a long-robed heiress on, perhaps, the only knee they have left. [Illustration: THE STAFF OF LIFE.] Parisians are very fond of uniforms, and so begin to employ them in the dress of citizens as soon as they make their entry into the world, even before they are registered at the mayor's office; for the caps and cradles of a boy (or _citoyen_) are decorated with blue ribbons, and the girl (or _citoyenne_) with pink. Every boys' or girls' school of any pretension has a distinctive mark in the dress, and so has each employment or trade,--the butcher's boy, always bareheaded, with a large basket and white apron; the grocer's apprentice, with calico over-sleeves and blue apron; and the pastry-cook's boy, dressed in white with white linen cap, who despises and ridicules the well-blacked chimney-sweep, keeping the while at a respectful distance. And we must not forget the beggars, with their carefully studied costumes of rags, or the little Italians, born in Paris, but wearing their so-called native costume, which has been cut and made within the city walls.