The little, frightened, trembling child
With truth the charge denied;
But Judith said, before the school,
That little Sallie lied.
And so she bore what would have been
The wicked Judith’s due,—
The punishment for telling tales,
And speaking falsely, too.
Weeping and sobbing she went home,
Her little heart was full;
And Sallie was a child of truth,
So they believed the whole.
Papa made Judith go to school,
And there, before them all,
Own how deceitful she had been;
Then on her knees to fall
Before the dame and Sallie, too,
Their pardon to obtain,
And promise she would never do
So wickedly again.
But ever after, let her go
Abroad where’er she would,
The boys would hoot her as she passed,
And call her—Tattling Jude!
THE STOLEN PENKNIFE.
“Harry, darling, what’s the matter;
Have you hurt yourself, my boy?
When I went away, this morning,
That bright face was full of joy.”
“Oh, papa,” said Harry, sobbing,
“I do think it is a shame,
My new knife is gone—he stole it,
And I do not know his name.”
“Your new knife! Who stole it, Harry?”
“That big boy, papa, who brought
Shavings here to sell, this morning;
Oh I wish he could be caught.
“I was standing on the sidewalk,
Whittling with my knife to-day,
When he came, and asked to see it,
Then he turned and ran away.”