The little sweep has washed his face,

But not as we advise;

For black as soot he's made the soap,

And rubbed it in his eyes.

Here's Master Mack presenting fruit,

Of which he makes display;

He knows he'll soon have Lucy's rope,

And with it skip away.

"O, here's a sad catastrophe!"

Was Mrs. Blossom's cry;

Then—"Water! water! bring to me—

Or all my fish will die."

These boys are bathing in the stream

When they should be at school;

The master's coming round to see

Who disregards his rule.

We often see things seeming strange;

But scarce so strange as this:—

Here every thing is mis-applied,

Here every change amiss.

Here is Pat Murphy, fast asleep,

And there is Neddy Bray;

The thief a watchful eye doth keep

Until he gets away.

A little boy with little slate

May sometimes make more clear

The little thoughts that he would state

Than can by words appear.

This little, harmless speckled frog

Seems Lady Townsend's dread;

I fear she'll run away and cry,

And hide her silly head.

Enough is good, excess is bad;

Yet Ichabod, you see,

Will with the jam his stomach cram,

Until they disagree.

Tho' horses know both beans and corn,

And snuff them in the wind,

They also all know Jemmy Small,

And what he holds behind.

We must admire, in Lovebook's case,

The prompt decision made,

As he could not have gained the wood

If time had been delayed.

The Gentleman, who struts so fine,

Unconscious seems to be

Of imitation by the boy

Who has the street-door key.

The character Tom Slowboy bears

Would much against him tell,

For any work that's wanted done,

Or even play done well.

The obstinacy of the pig

Is nature—as you see;

But boys and girls who have a mind

Should never stubborn be.

Some people say that Aunty Gray

To animals is kind;

We think, instead, they are over fed,

And kept too much confined.

Dame Partlett's in difficulty,

And looks around with doubt;

Let's hope, as she some way got in,

She may some way get out.

In every competition prize

This should be kept in view—

Whoever wins should be the one

Who does deserve it too.

To lie so many hours in bed

You surely must be ill,

And need some physic, Master Ned,

As birch, or draught, or pill!

Here's Topsy-Turvy, upside down,

The ceiling seems the base;

Reverse the ground and 'twill be found

The things are out of place.

Th' uncommon vegetation, here,

With art has much to do;

The trees are nature, but the fruit

Uncommon and untrue.

The wise may live and wonder still,

However much they know,

But simple Giles has wonder found

Within the penny show.

Here's Socrates and Xantippe—

Philosopher and wife—

For gentleness renowned was he;

She, better known for strife.

Miss Cross has tried to reach the grapes,

She's tried and tried again—

And now she's vexed to think that all

Her efforts are in vain.

Here's Zany reading in a book,

With heels above his head;

And, judging by his laughing look,

Finds fun in what he's read.