In My Nursery Part 10

BELINDA BLONDE.

Belinda Blonde was a beautiful doll, With rosy-red cheeks and a flaxen poll.

Her lips were red, and her eyes were blue, But to say she was happy would not be true; For she pined for love of the great big Jack Who lived in the Box so grim and black.

She never had looked on the Jack his face; But she fancied it s.h.i.+ning with beauty and grace, And all the day long she would murmur and pout, Because Jack-in-the-box would never come out.

"Oh, beautiful, beautiful Jack-in-the-box, Undo your bolts and undo your locks!

The cupboard is shut, and there's no one about: Oh! Jack-in-the-box, jump out! jump out!"

But alas! alas! for Belinda Blonde, And alas! alas! for her dreamings fond.

There soon was an end to all her doubt, For Jack-in-the-box really _did_ jump out,--

Out with a crash and out with a spring, Half black and half scarlet, a horrible thing.

Out with a yell and a shriek and a shout, His great goggle-eyes glaring wildly about.

"And what did Belinda do?" you say.

Alas! before she could get out of the way, The monster struck her full on the head, And with pain and with terror she fell down dead.

MORAL.

Now all you dolls, both little and big, With china crown and with curling wig, Before you give way to affection fond, Remember the fate of Belinda Blonde!

And unless you're fond of terrible knocks, _Don't_ set your heart on a Jack-in-the-box!

TOMMY'S DREAM; OR, THE GEOGRAPHY DEMON.

I hate my geography lesson!

It's nothing but nonsense and names.

To bother me so every Thursday, I think it's the greatest of shames.

The brooklets flow into the rivers, The rivers flow into the sea; For my part, I hope they enjoy it!

But what does it matter to me?

Of late even more I've disliked it, More thoroughly odious it seems, Ever since that sad night of last winter, When I had that most frightful of dreams.

I'd studied two hours that evening, On mountains and rivers and lakes;

When I'd promised to go down to Grandpa's, For one of Aunt Susan's plum-cakes.

She sent me one, though, and I ate it On the stairs, before going to bed; And those stupid old mountains and rivers Were dancing all night through my head.

I dreamed that a horrible monster Came suddenly into my room,-- A frightful Geography Demon, Enveloped in darkness and gloom.

His body and head like a mountain, A volcano on top for hat; His arms and his legs were like rivers, With a brook round his neck for cravat.

He laid on my trembling shoulder His fingers cold, clammy, and long; And rolling his red eyes upon me, He roared out this horrible song:--

"Come! come! rise and come Away to the banks of the Muskingum!

It rolls o'er the plains of Timbuctoo, With the Peak of Teneriffe just in view; And the cataracts leap in the pale moons.h.i.+ne, As they dance o'er the cliffs of Brandywine.

"Flee! flee! rise and flee Away to the banks of the Tombigbee!

We'll pa.s.s by Alaska's flowery strand, Where the emerald towers of Pekin stand; We'll pa.s.s it by, and we'll rest awhile On Michillimackinack's tropic isle; While the apes of Barbary frisk around, And the parrots crow with a lovely sound.

"Hie! hie! rise and hie Away to the banks of the Yang-tse-kai!

There the giant mountains of Oshkosh stand, And the icebergs gleam through the s.h.i.+fting sand; While the elephant sits in the palm-tree high, And the cannibal feasts upon bad-boy pie.

"Go! go! rise and go Away to the banks of the Hoang-ho!

There the Chickasaw sachem is making his tea, And the kettle boils and waits for thee.

I'll smite thee, ho! and I'll lay thee low, On the beautiful banks of the Hoang-ho!"

These terrible words were still sounding Like trumpets and drums through my head, When the monster clutched tighter my shoulder, And dragged me half out of the bed.

In terror I clung to the bedpost, But the faithless bedpost broke; I screamed out aloud in my anguish, And suddenly--well--I awoke!!-- No monster--no music--all silence, Save mother's soft accents so mild: "No, Father, you need not be anxious!

I know now what troubles the child.

I'll give him a little hot ginger As soon as he's fairly awake; His frightful Geography Demon Is just his Aunt Susan's plum-cake!"

POLLY'S YEAR.

JANUARY 1.

Come sit on my knee and tell me here, Polly, my dear, Polly, my dear, What do you mean to do this year?

I mean to be good the whole year long, And never do anything careless or wrong; I mean to learn all my lessons right, And do my sums, if I sit up all night.

I mean to keep all my frocks so clean, Nurse never will say I'm "not fit to be seen."

I mean not to break even one of my toys, And I never, oh! _never_ will make any noise.

In short, Uncle Ned, as you'll very soon see, The best little girl in the world I shall be.

DECEMBER 31.

Come sit on my knee and let me hear, Polly, my dear, Polly, my dear, What you have done in the course of the year.

Oh dear! Uncle Ned, oh dear! and oh dear!

I'm afraid it has _not_ been a very good year.

For somehow my sums _would_ come out wrong, And somehow my frocks wouldn't stay clean long.

And somehow I've often been dreadfully cross, And somehow I broke my new rocking-horse.

And somehow Nurse says I have made such a noise, I might just as well have been one of the boys.

In short, Uncle Ned, I very much fear You must wait for my goodness another year.

WHAT THE ROBINS SING IN THE MORNING.

Wake! wake! children, wake!

Here we're singing for your sake, Chirrup! chirrup! chirrup! chee!

Sweet a song as sweet can be.