[Transcriber's Note: This book was first published in German in 1844, and in English translation in 1848. This edition was not dated. Color illustrations appear on every page, often "playing" with the text.] STRUWWELPETER MERRY STORIES AND FUNNY PICTURES Heinrich Hoffman Frederick Warne & Co., Inc. New York STRUWWELPETER Merry Stories and Funny Pictures When the children have been good, That is, be it understood, Good at meal-times, good at play, Good all night and good all day-- They shall have the pretty things Merry Christmas always brings. Naughty, romping girls and boys Tear their clothes and make a noise, Spoil their pinafores and frocks, And deserve no Christmas-box. Such as these shall never look At this pretty Picture-book. Shock-headed Peter Just look at him! there he stands, With his nasty hair and hands. See! his nails are never cut; They are grimed as black as soot; And the sloven, I declare, Never once has combed his hair; Anything to me is sweeter Than to see Shock-headed Peter. Cruel Frederick Here is cruel Frederick, see! A horrid wicked boy was he; He caught the flies, poor little things, And then tore off their tiny wings, He killed the birds, and broke the chairs, And threw the kitten down the stairs; And oh! far worse than all beside, He whipped his Mary, till she cried. The trough was full, and faithful Tray Came out to drink one sultry day; He wagged his tail, and wet his lip, When cruel Fred snatched up a whip, And whipped poor Tray till he was sore, And kicked and whipped him more and more: At this, good Tray grew very red, And growled, and bit him till he bled; Then you should only have been by, To see how Fred did scream and cry! So Frederick had to go to bed: His leg was very sore and red! The Doctor came, and shook his head, And made a very great to-do, And gave him nasty physic too. But good dog Tray is happy now; He has no time to say "Bow-wow!" He seats himself in Frederick's chair And laughs to see the nice things there: The soup he swallows, sup by sup-- And eats the pies and puddings up. The Dreadful Story of Harriet and the Matches It almost makes me cry to tell What foolish Harriet befell. Mamma and Nurse went out one day And left her all alone at play. Now, on the table close at hand, A box of matches chanced to stand; And kind Mamma and Nurse had told her, That, if she touched them, they would scold her. But Harriet said: "Oh, what a pity! For, when they burn, it is so pretty; They crackle so, and spit, and flame: Mamma, too, often does the same."