THE INFANT MORALIST BY LADY HELENA CARNEGIE AND MRS ARTHUR JACOB EDINBURGH R. GRANT & SON, 107 PRINCES STREET LONDON: R. BRIMLEY JOHNSON 1903 [Illustration] CRUELTY TO ANIMALS How, George! you’re in Disgrace once more, What’s this? a tearful Eye, The tell-tale Feathers on the Floor, Show me the Reason why. Why did you free Amelia’s Bird Where Harriet’s Tabby pounced? You selfish Boy, upon my Word I’ll have you soundly trounced. Your little Cousin’s Tears now see: Her pretty Songster’s dead; A Child so mischievous must be Chastis’d, and sent to Bed. INSENSATE MISCHIEF What a Commotion in the Town! Now has the Steeple fallen down? Some strange Event occurr’d? Fresh Tidings of the War in France, Or News of dire Import, perchance, The Mayor may have heard. See how the People run and point! The Butcher, laden with a Joint, Is brandishing his Knife; The Chandler, with a Pot of Lard, In tumbling from the Farrier’s Yard, Upsets the Baker’s Wife. The Parson hurries up the Street, His Shoes half on, half off his Feet, His Surplice flies behind, And knocking ’gainst the Apple Stall, Of Widow Clarke, the Apples fall, He does not seem to mind! Here comes the Guardian of the Laws! Pray, tell us, Officer, the Cause Of this tumultuous Scene? Why, I declare, the Reason’s found, ’Tis Master Percy, I’ll be bound, At Mischief who has been. How say you? that an Hour too Fast He set the Town Hall Clock; and last, On further Mischief bent, Upon the Belfry Tower he climbed And all the Bells he loudly chimed Confusion to augment. But Retribution’s fatal Sword No long Delay will e’er afford And soon did Percy smite. His Footing slipp’d, some Time he hung To treach’rous Roofs, but vainly clung And fell a giddy Height. And now upon a Couch of Pain He lies with shattered Bones and Brain; But, Pity tho’ we feel, We all should strive to realise That those whose Actions are not Wise From Fate have no Appeal. [Illustration] CHARITABLE LOUISA Now Goody Brown and Widow Bond Live in a Cottage near the Pond, And so, Louisa, you Must now this little Basket take And put in it a Loaf, a Cake, A Pound of Sugar too. Nay! do not frown, ’tis surely good That we the Agêd succour should? Your Shawl and Bonnet don, See, with you faithful Ponto comes, Perhaps a liking for the Crumbs Has urg’d him to go on.