WHEN MOTHER IS ILL.
When mother is ill, you ought to see
How kind and loving I try to be.
I step about in the gentlest way;
I bathe her head, and I set her tray
With the best of tea and the brownest toast,
And whatever I think will tempt her most;
And I keep the little ones, oh, so still!
You ought to see me when mother is ill!
I carry the baby up the stair;
I let him play with my dollies there—
I give him the one that I keep on the shelf;
And I rock him to sleep just my own self.
I never scold, and I never fret;
I call him a darling, a pink, a pet.
And I'm ever so kind to Jack and Will,
Ever so patient when mother is ill.
When mother is ill, I take her place,
As well as I can, with a sober face.
I go to the door when father goes,
And bid him good-by on my tip-toes;
I watch for the doctor, and let him in,
And he's sure to tip me under the chin;
I help when Bridget is making cake,
And a taste of the cookies she lets me take;
And I baste in my dress a nice white frill,
For I try to be neat when mother is ill.
What's that you are saying? You think that Nell
Should do those things when mother is well?—
Should sit in the corner, like a mouse,
And mind the baby, and help keep house,
And be as dear as a child can be,
As sweet as a lily! Oh, you shall see,
Just watch me now, and I know you'll tell
The folks I'm good when mother is well.
West Haven, Connecticut.
I enjoy reading your nice stories very much indeed, especially the stories written by Mr. Otis. I think Jimmy Brown's stories are very funny indeed. Mamma laughs till she cries reading them sometimes. I wonder if there ever was a Jimmy Brown.
Little boys and girls tell about their pets in their letters. All the pets my sister Mary and I have are five hens and one rooster. Specky is my hen, and I think a great deal of her; she will hold still and be patted.
I have been very sick this winter, and I enjoyed hearing Young People read to me. I am very much better now, so that I am able to write this all alone myself. I was ten years old last 22d of January. I have never written before.
Bessie L. C.
The Postmistress assures you, dear, that she has frequently seen Jimmy Brown. How pleasant it is to be well now that spring is here! If one must be sick, winter is the best period of the year to be shut in-doors. Don't you think so?
The wee tots must not think the Postmistress forgets them. She thinks this little story about a poor alarmed mother whose children ran away will be just what they will ask their own mammas to read to them two or three times over: