  O, we have had a sad mishap! As Clara lay in Nurse's lap, Too near the fire the chair did stand— A coal flew out and burnt her hand. It must have flown above the guard, It came so quick and hit so hard; And, would you think it? raised a blister. O, how she cried! poor little sister! Poor thing! I grieved to see it swell. "What will you put to make it well?" "Why," said Mamma, "I really think Some scraped potato, or some ink, "A little vinegar, or brandy, Whichever nurse can find most handy: All these are good, my little daughter, But nothing's better than cold water." |
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