Page 26—Good Girls

Jenny Lee
An orphan child was Jenny Lee;
Her father, he was dead.
And very hard her mother worked;
To get the children bread.
In winter time, she often rose
Long ere the day was light,
And left her orphan family,
Till dark again at night.
And she would always say to Jane,
Before she went away;
"Be sure you mind the little ones,
And don't go out to play.
"Keep baby quiet in his bed,
As long as he will lie;
Then take him up, and dance him well,
Don't leave him there to cry.
"And don't let little Christopher,
Get down into the street,
For fear he meets an accident
Beneath the horse's feet.
"And mind about the fire, child,
And keep a tidy floor;
We never need be dirty, Jane,
Although we may be poor.
"Good-by my precious comforter,
For all the neighbours say,
That I can trust my little maid,
Whenever I'm away."
Then Jenny she was quite as proud
As England's noble Queen,
And she resolved to do the work,
And keep the dwelling clean.
She did not stop to waste her time,
But very brisk was she,
And worked as hard and cheerfully
As any busy bee.
If down upon the cottage floor
Her little brother fell,
She stroked the places tenderly,
And kissed and made them well.
And when the little babe was cross,
As little babes will be,
She nursed and danced it merrily,
And fed it on her knee.
But when they both were safe in bed,
She neatly swept the hearth,
And waited until her mother's step
Came sounding up the path.
Then open flew the cottage door,
The weary mother smiled.
"Ah! Jenny dear, what should I do,
Without my precious child!"
Work Before Play
"Mother has sent me to the well,
To fetch a jug of water,
And I am very glad to be
A useful little daughter;
That's why I cannot play
With you and Mary Ann to-day.
"Some afternoon I'll come with you,
And make you wreaths and posies;
I know a place where blue-bells grow,
And daisies and primroses;
But not to-day, for I must go
And help my mother, dears, you know.
"She says, that I am nearly eight,
So I can fill the kettle,
And sweep the room and clean the grate,
And even scrub a little;
Oh! I'm so very glad to be
A little useful girl, you see.
"So Johnny, do not ask to-day—
Perhaps I'll come to morrow;
But you'd not wish me now to stay,
And give my mother sorrow.
When she can spare me, she will say,
'Now, Susan, you may go and play.'"
Lucy Gray
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray;
And, when I crossed the wild,
I managed to see at break of day
The solitary child.
No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor,—
The sweetest thing that ever grew
Besides a human door!
You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.
"To-night will be a stormy night—
You to the town must go;
And take a lantern, child, to light
Your mother through the snow."
"That, father, will I gladly do!
'Tis scarcely afternoon—
The minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon."
At this the father raised his book
And snapped a faggot band;
He piled his work,—and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.
Not blither is the mountain roe;
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.
The storm came on before it's time;
She wandered up and down;
And many a hill did Lucy climb,
But never reached the town.
The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide,
But there was neither sound or sight
To serve them for a guide.
At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlooked the moor;
And thence they saw the bridge of wood
A furlong from their door.
And, turning homeward, now they cried
"In heaven we shall meet!"
When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.
Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
They tracked the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn edge,
And by the long stone wall.
And then an open field they crossed—
The marks were still the same;
They tracked them on, nor ever lost;
And to the bridge they came.
They followed from the snowy bank
The footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank;
And further there were none!
Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living child;
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome wild.
O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.
Mary's Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb,
It's fleece was white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go.
He followed her to school one day—
That was against the rule;
It made the children laugh and play,
To see a lamb at school.
The teacher therefore turned him out;
But still he lingered near,
And on the grass he played about
Till Mary did appear.
At once he ran to her, and laid
His head upon her arm,
As if to say, I'm not afraid—
You'll keep me from all harm.
"What makes the lamb love Mary so?"
The little children cry;
"Oh! Mary loves the lamb you know,"
The teacher did reply.

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