COBWEBS TO CATCH FLIES.
“Here is a pretty, new book, made to catch the attention of my darling.”
COBWEBS
TO
CATCH FLIES:
OR,
Dialogues in Short Sentences.
ADAPTED TO CHILDREN FROM THE AGE OF THREE
TO EIGHT YEARS.
A NEW EDITION, REVISED AND ILLUSTRATED.
NEW YORK:
C. S. FRANCIS & CO., 252 BROADWAY.
BOSTON:
J. H. FRANCIS, 128 WASHINGTON STREET.
1851.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The writer of these volumes was advised by a friend to prefix an Advertisement to them, explaining their design. Her answer to that friend was to this effect:
“Those for whom they are designed will not need an explanation; and others will not regard it. The mother, who is surrounded by smiling prattlers, will enter with spirit into my first Dialogues: will declare that they are such as she has wished for a thousand times; and that she esteems herself obliged to me, for having condescended to march in shackles, for the sake of keeping pace with her infant; she will be aware of some difficulty in the task; she will (to pursue the metaphor) allow that it is not easy to move gracefully, when we shorten our steps to those of a child. She will, therefore, pardon such inaccuracies as arise from the necessity of confining the language to short words.
“For the rest, I am persuaded (from experience and the remarks of the most judicious mothers) that a book of this kind will be acceptable.
“The mother who herself watches the dawn of reason in her babe; who teaches him the first rudiments of knowledge; who infuses the first ideas in his mind; will approve my Cobwebs. She will, if she be desirous of bringing her little darling forward; (and where it can be done with ease and satisfaction, who is not?) she will be aware of the consequence of the first lessons, where nothing meets the eye of the learner but objects with which he is already familiar; nothing arises to his mind, but subjects with which he begins to be acquainted; sentiments level to his capacity, explained in words which are suited to his progress.
“Such is the Cobwebs designed to be; if such it be, it will meet the smile of Mothers. It was written to please a set of children dear to the writer; and it did please them; and in the hope that it may be agreeable to other little people, it is given to the public.”
TO MY LITTLE READERS.
My Dears:
Do not imagine that, like a great spider, I will give you a hard gripe, and infuse venom to blow you up. No; I mean to catch you gently, whisper in your ear,
Be good, and you will be beloved,
Be good, and you will be happy,
and then release you, to frisk about in pursuit of your innocent pastimes.
Dear little creatures! enjoy your sports; be as merry as you will; but remember the old proverb,
“Be merry and wise.”
Your whole duty is contained in one short precept,
Obey readily and cheerfully.
Happy little creatures! you will never taste such careless hours as you do now; when you grow up, you will have many cares; you may have many sorrows; yet assure yourselves, if you be good, you will be happy; be happy for ever. Remember this, my dear little readers, from
Your Friend,
THE AUTHOR.
COBWEBS TO CATCH FLIES.
THE RAT.
IN WORDS OF THREE LETTERS.
Frederick. I saw a rat; and I saw the dog try to get it.
Ann. And did he get it?
Frederick. No: but the cat did.
Ann. My cat?
Frederick. No: it was the old cat.
Ann. How did she get it? Did she run for it?
Frederick. No: it is not the way:—she was hid—the rat ran out; and, pop! she had him.
Ann. A dog can run.
Frederick. Yes; but a cat is sly.
Ann. The kit can not get a rat.
Frederick. No; she can not yet; but she can get a fly. I saw her get a fly.
THE CAT.
IN WORDS OF THREE LETTERS.
Boy. See our cat! she can see a rat. Can she get it and eat it up?
Mother. Yes, she can: but she was bit by an old rat one day.
Boy. Ah! my Kit! why did you try to get the old rat! One day the dog bit our cat; he bit her jaw. Did the cat get on my bed?
Mother. Yes; but she is off now.
Boy. Why did she get on the bed?
Mother. To lie on it, and purr.
Boy. Now, Puss, you are up. Why do you say Mew? Why do you say purr?
You may lie by me, Cat. See her joy as I pat her ear.
Why do you get off the bed? Why do you beg to be let out?
Mother. So she may go to her kit.
Boy. Has she a kit? Why do you go to the kit? Is she to go?
Mother. Yes; let her go.
THE MORNING.
IN WORDS OF THREE LETTERS.
Mother. Now get up; it is six.
Boy. O, me! is it six?
Mother. Yes, it is; and the dew is off.
Boy. I see the sun. Is it fit for me to go out?
Mother. Now it is; but by ten it may be hot. So get up now.
Boy. May I go to-day, and buy my top?
Mother. Yes, you may.
Boy. A peg-top? Sam has a peg-top. He has let me use his. One day he did.
I met Tom one day, and he had a top so big!
I can hop as far as Tom can.
Tom has a bat too! and Tom is but of my age.
Let us buy a cup and a mug for Bet.
And let us get a gun for Sam.
And a pot and an urn for Bet.
An ant has bit my leg. See how red it is!
May I get a bag for Sue?
Mother. Can you pay for it?
Boy. O, no! but you can pay for all. May the dog go?
Mother. Yes, he may go.
Boy. I see him: may I let him in?
THE WINDOW.
IN WORDS OF THREE LETTERS.
First Boy. I see a man! The man has a dog. The man has got in.
The dog has not got in: but the man has got in.
Mother. Do not cry, dog; you will see the man by-and-by. Dog! why do you cry?
Second Boy. I can not see.
First Boy. You are too low. Get up.
Second Boy. I can not get up.
First Boy. Try;—now you are up.
Second Boy. I see the cow.
First Boy. I see two. I see the red cow; and I see the dun cow.
Second Boy. I see a hog. Pig! pig! pig! why do you run?
First Boy. Now I see one, two, six—yes, ten hogs. Why do you all run?—Now let us go off.
Second Boy. You can not see me.
First Boy. You are hid.
Second Boy. I see you. Can you not see me?
First Boy. O, now I can get up.
Second Boy. No, I can run; you can not get me.
First Boy. Yes, I can.
Second Boy. Let us go to Tom.
First Boy. We must not go out.
Second Boy. I can get out.
First Boy. So can I; but do not go yet.
Second Boy. Why may not we go yet?
First Boy. Do as you are bid, and do not ask why, is the law for a boy.
THE DOG.
IN WORDS OF FOUR LETTERS.
Boy. I love the dog. Do not you?
Mother. Yes, sure.
Boy. Wag! do you love me?
Mother. You see he does; he wags his tail. When he wags his tail, he says, I love you.
Boy. Does his tail tell me so?
Mother. Yes; it says, I love you; I love you; pray love me.
Boy. When we go out, he wags his tail: what does his tail say then?
Mother. It says, Pray let me go; I wish to go with you.
Boy. I love to have him go with me.
Mother. Here is a cake for you.
Boy. Nice cake! See the dog! how he wags his tail now! Why do you wag your tail? Why do you look so? Why does he wag his tail so much?
Mother. To beg for some cake. His tail says, I love you; you have a cake, and I have none: will you not be good to me? Will you not give some of your cake to your poor dog?
Boy. Poor dog! do you want some cake? take a bit. Here! I hold it to him, but he does not take a bit.—Take some; O, he has got it all! he was not to take all. Fie, Wag! to take all! Now I have none left. You are rude, Wag.
Mother. He did stay some time.—Here, I will give you a plum-cake.
Boy. Now you are to have none, Wag. You are to have none of this cake; you were rude.
Mother. He did not know that he was not to take all. He can not know all that you say.
Boy. Well, you may have a bit of this. I will take a bit off and give it to him.
Mother. Do so. You are a good boy. We must be kind to all. We must give to them who want.
Boy. Why do you ask for more?
Mother. He has not had a meal to-day. He had not a bit till now. You have had food.
Boy. I hope he will have meat at noon. I will ask cook to give him a bone; and he may have some milk, and he can have some bran. Cook will boil them for him. Poor dog! he can not ask as we can, so I will ask for him. Wag, I wish you could talk. Why does he bark at poor men?
Mother. When he sees a man whom he does not know, then he says, “Who are you?—who are you?—why do you come?—what do you do here?—I am at home—I must tell the folks—I must tell that you are here—I will call our folks to look at you. Come out, man; come out, maid—see who this is.—Bow, wow, wow, wow!”
Boy. Does the dog say all that? Why does he stop as soon as the folks come out?
Mother. He is so wise as to know that he need bark no more then. If he means to call them out, he will stop when they are come out.
Boy. Wag, why do you gape when you are hot? Can you tell me why he does so?
Mother. To cool his tongue.
THE FARM-YARD.
IN WORDS OF FOUR LETTERS.
Boy. I do not love pigs.
Maid. A pig is not so nice as a fowl; yet we must feed the pigs. Pigs must eat as well as boys. Poor pigs want food.
Boy. Do they cry for food? I hear them cry.
Maid. They cry to me for food; in the way they can call, they call—“Pray feed me; pray feed me! do pray feed me now!”
Boy. What do you give them?
Maid. This pail full of milk. Will you not like to see them? They will be so glad!
Boy. How they jump! how they run to the gate! why do they run so?
Maid. They are glad to see me. They know me; I feed them when they want food; and you see they love me.
Boy. I like to see them so glad. I like to see a pig fed; but I love a lamb; may I not love a lamb more than I do a pig?
Maid. Yes; but you must be good to all.
Boy. My aunt has a tame lamb, I love to give him milk; once I saw a fawn, I do not mean in a park, but I saw a tame fawn; the old doe was dead, so we fed the fawn at home. We kept him a long time, but he bit off the buds.
Maid. Have you seen a goat?
Boy. Yes; he has not wool; he has hair.
Maid. Now you may go with me. We will go and see the cows.
Boy. Why is one duck by itself?
Maid. The duck sits; she has a nest just by. I must feed her: she will not go far from her nest. The rest can get food. You may give her some corn; we will get some for her. Come.
Boy. I like to feed the poor duck.
THE DOLL.
IN WORDS OF FOUR LETTERS.
Girl. What a nice doll! I like this; pray may I have this? I wish to have a wax doll.
Mother. You must then take care to keep her cool, else you will melt her face; and she must be kept dry, or this nice pink on her face will be lost.
Girl. What a neat coat! I love a blue silk. And her hat! I love a doll in a hat. What sort of a cap have you, miss! but a poor one; but it is not much seen. She has some soil on the neck. I can rub it off, I see. No, that will not do; I must not wet her skin. What sort of a foot have you? O! a nice one; and a neat silk shoe: a blue knot, too; well, that is what I like; to suit her coat. I am fond of blue, too. Now, miss, when I have you home with me, then I am to be your maid; to wait on you. Will not that be nice! I will take care of you, and keep you so neat! and I will work for you; you can not sew, nor hem; and I will read to you in my new book; and I will take you out with me when you are good. You shall sit by me near the tree, on a low seat, fit for you. I wish you to walk. Can not I make you walk? so—step on—see how my new doll can walk!
Mother. You will pull off her legs, my dear.
Girl. Now if I had a pin to pin this sash back. Stay, I can tie it. O me! see! here is a bag for her work! who has seen the like? a bag for her work! I must have this doll—if you like it, I mean.
Mother. You must then work for her. You will have much to do. To make and mend all that your doll will want to wear. Will not you wish her in the shop? I fear that you will; you who are so fond of play.
Girl. Work for my doll will not tire me.
Mother. Take it, then.
Girl. You are so good! pray let me kiss you. I must kiss you too, my dear doll, for joy.
THE TOILET.
IN WORDS OF FOUR LETTERS.
Girl. I like this frock; but it will not keep on. Why will it not keep on?
Maid. It is too big for you, miss.
Girl. It is off; it will fall off.
Maid. You had best lay it down, miss.
Girl. I like to have it; I will put it on.
Mother. My dear! lay it down when you are bid to do so; do not wait to be made to do well.
Girl. I will not, mamma. Jane, I will be good. Pray may I look in this box?
Mother. You see it is shut now; you may see it by-and-by.
Girl. I will not hurt the lock.
Mother. You must not try.
Girl. May I play with your muff?
Mother. You may.
Girl. What is this made of?
Mother. Fur; and fur is skin with the hair on.
Girl. It is like puss; how soft it is! How warm it is when I hold it to my nose! it is like wool.
Mother. Now come and kiss me; I am sure you will be good to John; go and play with him.
Girl. Do you stay all day? do you stay till John is in bed?
Mother. Yes; till you are both in bed. Now go.
Girl. Pray let me get my work-bag first. May I get my work-bag?
Mother. Why do you want it?
Girl. I want some silk out of it, that I may work a ball for John.
THE FAN.
IN WORDS OF FOUR LETTERS.
Lady. What does the baby want? what does that mean?
Girl. It is his way to say please.
Lady. And what does he wish?
Girl. To have your fan: but he will tear it.
Lady. Can you take care of it?
Girl. O yes; I can show it to him.
Lady. Take it; and let him see it.
Girl. Now sit by me. Pray sit him down by me. Look! no, you must not have it. I must keep it in my hand. You can not hold it. Here is a boy. See, he runs to get that bird. O fie! do not get the bird. No! you must not put the bird in a cage. Let the bird fly; let him sing; and let him help to make a nest. Do not hurt the poor bird. You must be good and kind. You must not vex the bird. Here is a girl. Look at her pink coat. Here is her foot. She has a blue shoe. She is at play with the boy. Miss! you must be good. You must tell the boy to be good, that we may love him. All good folks will love him, if he be good, not else. Now let us turn the fan. Now we will look at this side. Here is a nice pink. This is a rose. That is a fly.
Mother. Now John will walk. Ring the bell. Go and walk with the maid.
Girl. Am I to go?
Mother. As you like.
Girl. I like best to stay; but John says with his hand, “pray go.” I will go then; dear boy! I will go with you.
Mother. Good girl.
Girl. John! you must love me; I wish to stay here, and you hear that I may stay.
Mother. Take hold of him and lead him out. You will meet the maid at the door.
THE BOOK-SHOP.
IN WORDS OF FOUR AND FIVE LETTERS.
Boy. I will have a book. I will have one with a dog in it. May I not?
Mother. Yes, you may.
Boy. Let me see, here is a goat. Do look at his face; how like it is to a goat! Here is a ball, and a lamb with wool on it, just like my lamb that I feed at home. And here is a cock. Can you crow? Crow and tell us that it is time to rise. Can you not? What a tail he has! a fine tail! No, I will not have that, for his tail will soon be off. Some part of it is come off now.
Mother. You must not pull; you do harm.
Boy. I did not pull hard.
Mother. You are a long time.
Boy. O, here is a fine horse! I like this horse. I like his long tail. You shall not have your tail cut—no, nor your ears: but you can not feel. Come, sir, walk and trot. Do you move well? I will rub you down, and give you oats and hay, and chop straw for you. I will be good to you, not whip you much—No more than just to say—Now go on;—nor spur you, nor gall your poor skin; no, nor let the hair rub off. So—you set your tail well; but if you did not, Tom must not nick you; no, nor yet dock your poor tail; you will want it to keep the flies from you when it is hot. I see poor Crop toss his head all day; he does it to keep the flies from him; but it is all in vain, he can not keep them off. I will be good to you; I will tend and feed you; and I will not ride too hard, and hurt your feet; nor trot on hard road, so as to make you fall and cut your knees; but I will pat your neck when I get up, and I will make you know me: so that you will turn your head, and seem to like to have me get on your back. At night, you must have a warm bed. When I have rode you in the day, I will see that you have good corn, and hay, and straw; and Tom must wash the hot sand out of your poor feet, so that they may not ache, and make you grow lame.
Mother. I can not but give you the horse, as you seem to plan so well for him; I hope you will be good and kind to all things.
Boy. I do not care now for the lamb, nor for the—
Mother. My dear, I would have you know your own mind; if you get the trick to like now this, now that, and now you know not what, it will do you harm all your life.—So it is that boys and men spend too much; so it is that they act like fools. I would give you all the toys in the shop, if it were for your good to have them: the horse you have; now take something else; take the book, do you like the book?
Boy. I do; I thank you, mamma. I will keep the horse, and I will give the book to Jack. O! my dear horse, how I love you!
THE WALK.
IN WORDS OF FIVE AND SIX LETTERS.
Father. Shall we take a walk, my son?
Boy. Yes, sir, where shall we go?
Father. Let us go by the farm yard into the fields.
Boy. See! a horse and a cow stand by the fence in the yard. Now we are in the field. Is it full of nettles?
Father. No, not so, it is hemp.
Boy. What is that for, papa?
Father. To make cloth of; the stalk has a tough peel on it, and that peel is what they make thread of. The thread they weave, and make strong cloth.
Boy. I want to know all the trees: pray what leaf is this?
Father. That is an oak; that bush is May; we call it too White-thorn; it blooms late in May; its fruit are called Haws; so we call it Haw-thorn. The birds eat the fruit. That is Black-thorn; that blooms soon in Spring; it has a white bloom, and has then few or no leaves. The fruit is a sloe. They are like a small blue plum; but so sour that you can not eat them.
Boy. What is this?
Father. Wild rose; its fruit are Hips; they are kept, and we take them for coughs. That is broom; it has a bloom like a pea in shape, but it is yellow.
Boy. There is a bush of it in bloom.
Father. No: that is Furze, such as you see on heaths. Feel this; Broom does not prick like this.
Boy. I will keep a leaf of each to show to James.
Father. You may put them in a book, and write what I have told you.
Boy. I will get all sorts of plants; and I will mark by each the name, the place, the bloom, the time when it blows, and the use which is made of it.
THE BABY HOUSE.
IN WORDS OF SIX LETTERS.
First Girl. My doll’s quilt is of chintz. What is this?
Second Girl. French Print.
First Girl. Let us take the doll up.
Second Girl. With all my heart.
First Girl. Where are her clothes?
Second Girl. Here they are; some in this trunk, and some hang in the press.
First Girl. Bless me! what a nice press! I have a trunk at home, in my doll’s house; but I have no press.
Second Girl. Here are her linen and coat; those shoes are her best, do not put them on; take these.
First Girl. What gown does she put on?
Second Girl. Her white one. I will take it out, whilst you lace her stays.
First Girl. What is her best cloak?
Second Girl. White; with a neat blond-lace round it.
First Girl. Mine has a muff; has your doll a muff?
Second Girl. No, she has not; my aunt says she will teach me to do chain stitch; and then I am to work one.
First Girl. What is her best dress?
Second Girl. You shall see them all; there is the dress which I like best.
First Girl. Why do you like it best?
Second Girl. It is my dear mother’s work; see how neat it is; and there is a green silk.
First Girl. My doll’s best dress is brown with a stripe of blue; and she has a white, wrought with a moss rose, a pink, and a large bunch of leaves: that was her best, but it is just worn out now; she must leave it off soon.
Second Girl. Why does she wear it so long?
First Girl. I had a half-dollar to buy her a piece of silk; as I went in the coach with my aunt to buy it, we met a poor child who had no clothes, but the worst rags which you can think.
Second Girl. And you gave it to her. My doll should wear her old gown for a long time, for the sake of such a use to put my half-dollar to.
First Girl. I had more joy in that, than I could have had in my doll’s new dress. Dolls can not feel the want of clothes.
Second Girl. Now let us go down stairs.
