[MOTHER'S DEAR TREASURE.]
BY A. L. A. SMITH.
Down stairs in the kitchen is mother's dear treasure,
Desirous of helping, for "Topsy" is out;
Her face is lit up with the rainbow of pleasure,
And mother knows not what her darling's about.
"Oh my! dis 'tove's dirty—I fink I 'ill clean it."
So, taking the blacking and brush by her side,
She laid it on thick till, oh my! had you seen it
And her, I am sure you'd have laughed till you cried.
"Oh dear, I's so tired! I dess I'll be doing
Up 'tairs to my mamma, and tell her tome see;
I dess she can 'top for a minute her sewing,
And pay just a 'ittle bit 'tention to me."
But when this fond mother espied her wee daughter
Come toddling in, with her hands and face black,
She burst into laughter, then ran for some water
To see if her darling or Topsy'd come back.
WATERMELONS—A STUDY IN GREEN AND BLACK.