FAMILIAR LINES
ANONYMOUS
(Arranged so that the little ones can always remember them)
The boy stood on the burning deck,
His fleece was white as snow;
He stuck a feather in his hat,
John Anderson, my Jo!
"Come back, come back!" he cried in grief,
From India's coral strands,
The frost is on the pumpkin and
The village smithy stands.
Am I a soldier of the cross
From many a boundless plain?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
Where saints immortal reign?
Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon
Across the sands o' Dee,
Can you forget that night in June—
My country, 'tis of thee!
Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
We're saddest when we sing,
To beard the lion in his den—
To set before the king.
Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound,
And Phoebus gins arise;
All mimsy were the borogroves
To mansions in the skies.
A FRIENDLY GAME OF CHECKERS
ANONYMOUS
"Now, my dear," said Mr. Italics, as he drew on his slippers and settled himself for the evening, "if you will get the checker-board, I'll play you a game—you're learning so rapidly that it's really a pleasure to try quits with you."