Jingle! jingle! baby's bell; What a tale its tongue might tell. Could it speak it sure would say, "When the baby's tired with play, And is getting cross, don't try To jingle bells, but hush-a-bye; All so still, now crooning low, Lull-a-bye, bye-o, bye-o,-- Quiet down his quaking nerves, Soothe him as his state deserves;-- Passing hand from head to feet, Sl-o-w-l-y, softly, loving, sweet, As to smooth the feathers down, Rumpled, from your birdling's crown;-- {19} See, he sleeps, and in his dream Yours may hand of angel seem, Raveling out the tangled ills, Knitting up with restful thrills." _WILLY-NILLY_. Willy-Nilly, birdy sings, For he's running over With the music that he flings To his sweet bird-lover;-- Willy-nilly, baby laughs, Gay and glad and gleeful; Brimming over high with health, She is always playful. {20} _BABY'S RECORD_. New-born baby, soft and pink, Of the two worlds on the brink. One month old,--eat and sleep; Precious little human heap. Two months old,--tear and smile; Fists in mouth and eyes the while. Three months old,--"goo-a-goo," Windows wide where soul looks through. Four months old,--finds his toes, Tries to fix them on his nose. {21} Five months old,--first wee pearl; All the household in a whirl. Six months old,--sits alone; Wishes swaddling clothes were gone. Seven months old,--creep and crawl, Wonder-eyed, a charm to all. Eight months old,--confiscate Pussy's tail and papa's pate. Nine months old,--roguish eyes Deepening daily; wilful, wise. Ten months old,--witching ways Wind us in; the baby pays! Eleven months old,--finger-tip Guides the elfin on his trip. Year old,--lots of mischief done; Walking, talking, just for fun. {22} _SLEEP, LITTLE SWEETEY_. Sleep now, my sweetey, Dear one, and pretty! Weary with playing, Weary with straying, Stop little thinkers, Shut little winkers; Sleep, little sweetey, Precious and pretty. Sleep now, my sweetey, Dear One, and pretty! Stop little thinkers, Shut little winkers, Angels a-watching Sleep-doors unlatching; Slip in, my sweetey, Precious and pretty! Sleeping, my sweetey, Dear one, and pretty! Stopped, little thinkers, Shut, little winkers, Angels a-watching, Sleep-doors are latching; Slipped in, my sweetey, Precious and pretty! {23} _NEVER TELL A FIB_. If mamma says she'll punish, She must do it, or she tells A fib, as Sister Annie Told "a story" 'bout the bells; And if mamma tells a fib, Then surely children will, And what a fearful thing, Our home with fibs to fill! {24} _HUMPTY--DUMPTY_. Humpty-Dumpty, hip-o'-to-hop, Baby is crying, why doesn't he stop? What does he cry for? his clothing is tight; No wonder such things make baby a fright.