"You can't give me a rockin'-horse."
No. 253. Admirable Definition.—At one of the ragged schools of Ireland, a clergyman asked, "What is holiness?"
A dirty, ragged little wretch jumped up, and sung out, "Plase your riverence, it's bein clane inside."
No. 254. Another.—A boy, eight years old, having been told that a reptile is an animal that creeps, and being asked on examination-day to name one, answered, without winking, "A baby."
No. 255. A Young Butcher.—A boy in New York, only five years old, having heard papa say that he wished the two calves they had in the barn were killed, got a hammer, and going to the barn by himself, succeeded in killing them both; and returned to the house to tell the story—to report progress and ask leave to sit again, as we say at Washington, after a similar feat.
No. 256. Flat Contradiction.—"What's that?" said a school-master, pointing to the letter X. "It's daddy's name," said the boy. "No, you little blockhead, it's X." "Tain't X, neither," said the boy; "it's daddy's name, for I seed him write it many a time."
No. 257. A delicate Scruple.—"Oh, mamma!" said a little chap, the other day, who had been listening to her conversation with a neighboring gossip; "did you say I was born a-Sunday?"
"Yes, my child."
"Ain't I wicked, mamma?"
"Why, what makes you ask such a question, Bobby?"