Page 20—Girl Land

Jumping-Jennie
Jennie has a jumping-rope
As slender as a whip.
And all about the street and house
She'd skip, and skip, and skip.
She knocked the vases from the shelf,
Upset the stools and chairs,
And one unlucky day, alas!
Went headlong down the stairs.
Against the wall, against the door
Her head she often bumped,
And stumbled here, and stumbled there,
Yet still she jumped, and jumped.
She jumped so high, she jumped so hard,
That—so the story goes—
She wore her shoes and stockings out,
Likewise her heels and toes.
I Don't Care
Matilda was a pretty girl,
And she had flaxen hair;
And yet she used those naughty words
"I'm sure I do not care."
She once her lessons would not learn,
But talk'd about the fair,
And lost her tickets, but she said,
"I'm sure I do not care."
As she advanced to riper years,
I'm sorry to declare,
She still preserved those naughty words,
"I'm sure I do not care."
She grew a woman, and for life
'Twas time she should prepare,
But still she said "there's time enough,
If not, I do not care."
Duties neglected, warnings spurn'd,
Her mother in despair;
And though she saw the evil done,
She said, "I do not care."
Still on she went from bad to worse,
She spurned her father's prayer;
Who feared she'd find an awful end,
Because she would not care.
Afflictions came, and death in view,
Which filled her with despair;
Her God neglected, and she feared
For her He would not care.
Could you have then Matilda seen,
Or heard her broken prayer,
She urged her friends never to use
Those awful words—Don't Care.
Little Miss Meddlesome
Little Miss Meddlesome
Scattering crumbs,
Into the library
Noisily comes—
Twirls off her apron,
Tilts open some books,
And into a work-basket
Rummaging, looks.
Out goes the spools spinning
Over the floor,
Beeswax and needle-case
Stepped out before;
She tosses the tape-rule
And plays with the floss,
And says to herself,
"Now won't mamma be cross!"
Little Miss Meddlesome
Climbs to the shelf,
Since no-one is looking,
And mischievous elf,
Pulls down the fine vases,
The cuckoo-clock stops,
And sprinkles the carpet
With damaging drops.
She turns over the ottoman,
Frightens the bird,
And sees that the chairs
In a medley are stirred;
Then creeps on the sofa,
And, all in a heap,
Drops out of her
Frolicsome mischief asleep.
But here comes the nurse,
Who is shaking her head,
And frowns at the mischief
Asleep on her bed.
But let's hope when Miss Meddlesome's
Slumber is o'er,
She may wake from good dreams
And do mischief no more.
Careless Matilda
"Again, Matilda,
Is your work astray,
Your thimble is gone!
Your scissors, where are they?
Your needles, pins, your thread,
And tapes all lost—
Your housewife here,
And there your work-bag tost.
Fie, fie, my child!
Indeed this will not do,
Your hair uncomb'd,
Your frock in tatters too;
I'm now resolv'd
No more delays to grant,
This day I'll send you
To your stern old aunt."
In vain Matilda wept,
Repented, pray'd,
In vain a promise
Of amendment made.
Arriv'd at Austere Hall,
Matilda sigh'd.
By Lady Rigid,
When severely eyed.
"You read, and write,
And work well, as I'm told,
Are gentle, kind, good-natur'd,
Far from bold.
But very careless,
Negligent, and wild—
When you leave me,
You'll be a different child."
The little girl
Next morn a favour asks:
"I wish to take a walk,"
"Go learn your tasks,"
The lady harsh replies,
"Nor cry nor whine.
Your room you leave not
Till you're call'd to dine."
As thus Matilda sat,
O'erwhelm'd with shame,
A dame appear'd,
Disorder was her name.
Her hair and dress neglected,
Soil'd her face,
She squinted leer'd,
And hobbled in her pace.
"Here, child," she said,
"My mistress sends you this,
A bag of silks—
A flow'r not work'd amiss—
A polyanthus bright,
And wondrous gay;
You'll copy it by noon,
She bade me say."
Disorder grinn'd,
Then shuffling walk'd away.
Entangled were
The silks of every hue,
Confus'd and mix'd
Were shades of pink, green, blue;
She took a thread,
Compar'd it with the flow'r;
"To finish this is
Not within my pow'r.
Well-order'd silks
Had Lady Rigid sent,
I might have work'd,
If such was her intent."
She sigh'd, and melted
Into sobs and tears,
She hears a noise
And at the door appears
A pretty maiden, clean,
Well-dress'd, and neat
Her voice was soft,
Her looks sedate, yet sweet.
"My name is Order,
Do not cry my love;
Attend to me,
And thus you may improve."
She took the silks,
And drew out shade for shade,
In sep'rate skeins,
Each hue with care she laid;
Then smiling kindly,
Left the little maid.
Matilda now resumed
Her sweet employ,
And sees the flow'r complete—
How great her joy.
She leaves the room,
"I've done my task," she cries.
But soon her harshness
The lady look'd
With disbelieving eyes,
Chang'd to glad surprise.
"Why this is well!
A very pretty flow'r,
Work'd clean, exact,
And done within the hour!
And now amuse yourself,
Ride, walk or play."
Thus passed Matilda
This much-dreaded day.
At all her tasks
Disorder would attend
At all her tasks
Still Order stood her friend.
With tears and sighs
Her studies oft began,
These into smiles
Were changed by Order's plan;
No longer Lady Rigid
Seem'd severe,
Her looks the negligent
Alone need fear.
And when the day
The wish'd-for day is come
When young Matilda's
Suffer'd to go home:
"You quit me, child,
But oft to mind recall
The time you spent
With me at Austere Hall.
And now, my dear,
I'll give you one of these,
Your servant she will be;
Take which you please."
"From me," Disorder asked,
"Old friend, why start?"
Matilda clasped
Sweet Order to her heart.
"My dearest girl," she cried,
"We'll never part."

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