Part 69

IN MERRY ENGLAND.

BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS.

In merry, merry England, In the merry month of May, Miss Mary Ella Montague Went out in best array. Her wise mama called out to her, "My darling Mary Ella, It looks like rain to-day, my dear; You'd best take your umbrella!" That silly girl she paid no heed To her dear mother's call. She walked at least six miles that day, And it never rained at all!

THE GOOSE GIRL.

BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS.

Oh, I'm a goose, and you're a goose, and we're all geese together. We wander over hill and dale, all in the sweet June weather, While wise folk stay indoors and pore O'er dusty books for learning lore. How glad I am--how glad you are--that we're birds of a feather: That you're a goose, and I'm a goose, and we're all geese together!

THE PHILOSOPHER

BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS

Let me make you acquainted with Mrs. O'Toole, Though she's had little learning, she's nobody's fool, She loves her fine geese, but when they are dead She'll comfort herself with a new feather bed.

EVERY-DAY VERSES

BY ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE

PICTURES BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE

THIRSTY FLOWERS

I have a little wat'ring-pot, It holds two quarts I think, And when the days are very hot I give the plants a drink.

They lift their heads as flowers should, And look so green and gay; I'm sure that if they only could, "We thank you, Sir," they'd say.

SHARING WITH OTHERS

Sometimes Mother gives to me Such a lot of money--See! But it's very hard to buy All the things you'd like to try, And you always share your penny With a child who hasn't any.

POCKETS

Pockets are fine For marbles and twine, For knives and rubber bands; So, stuff them tight From morning till night With anything else but hands!

WAITING FOR DINNER

When one is very hungry, It's hard to wait, I know, For minutes seem like hours And the clock is always slow.

There isn't time to play a game, You just sit down and wait, While Mother says, "Be patient, Our cook is never late."

It's best when one is hungry, To think of other things, For then, before you know it, The bell for dinner rings.

THE CRITIC

If only more people would write fewer books How well pleased I would be! If all the authors would change into cooks 'T would suit me perfectly.

DIPLOMACY

BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS

The Widow Hill has a fine plum-tree! The Widow Hill is fond o' me. I'll call on her to-day! The plum-tree grows by her front door. I've been meaning to call for a week or more To pass the time o' day!