He swings on the tassels, he climbs up the shelf; He peeps in the mirror and winks at himself; He drops from the table, and lands with a thump; He slides down the sofa, and squeaks at the bump. There, now he grows bolder; he's out on the floor; He's eating an apple-seed there by the door; He's under the table; he's--where did you say? Oh, here he is! there he is! shoo! get away! EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER. [Illustration] [Illustration] THE LITTLE SCHOLARS. AT your books! A goodly sight! Learn to cipher, read, and write; What you do, do always well; Let your aim be to excel. If you fail, why, try again; Mend your pencil or your pen, Straighten and perfect the line; Make the fine mark still more fine; Make the curve a little better; Let no flaw be in the letter; So by trying you will gain Till perfection you attain. EMILY CARTER. [Illustration: DRAWING-LESSON. VOL. XXIX.--NO. 3.] THE THREE DOLLS. ROSY. "OH, let me see your dolly!" KATE. (_Holding up a handsome doll._) "Take care! you must not touch; For she was bought in Paris, And oh, she cost so much! Her dress is richest satin, 'Tis trimmed with nicest lace. I do not dare to kiss her, For fear 'twould spoil her face. Such dainty little slippers I'm sure you never saw! We keep her wrapped in paper Within the bureau-drawer. Just see her shining necklace! I think 'tis truly gold. Oh, mine's a splendid dolly, But she's too fine to hold!" ROSY. "And do you have one, Lizzie?" [Illustration] LIZZIE. (_Bringing slowly out an old doll which she has been holding in her hand behind her._) "Oh, mine's a perfect fright! I tried to keep her hidden She's such a sorry sight. If you had been here Christmas, I know you would have said That she was very lovely, With cheeks like roses red, And hair that shone like sunbeams, And pretty, tasteful gown; But I have been too heedless Where I have laid her down. I'd start up in a hurry, And drop her here or there. Her head--aunt Sally crushed it: I left it in a chair. Bad Jip, our naughty puppy, Has dragged her all about. She lost one arm; the sawdust Has from her form come out. Her head is cracking open, Her clothes are soiled and old, Yet this poor battered dolly Is all I have to hold. And I can have no other, My mother says to me, Until I learn more careful And orderly to be." [Illustration] JENNY.