[THE NEW DOLL.]
BY GEORGE COOPER.
You're a beautiful, beautiful dolly,
And dressed like a sweet little queen;
Not to care for you, dear, may seem folly,
When I've but a rag-doll so mean.
I know that its arms are the queerest,
Its head very funny and flat;
Its eyes anything but the clearest;
Yet old friends are best, for all that.
Your hair falls in ringlets so flaxen,
Your eyes are delightfully blue;
Your cheeks they are rosy and waxen,
You're charming, I'll give you your due.
Yet shall I give up Betsy Baker,
Who hasn't a shoe nor a hat,
Because you've a splendid dressmaker?
No! old friends are best, for all that.
You came Christmas morn, in my stocking;
I ought to be proud, I suppose;
And not to be pleased would be shocking:
Do, Betsy dear, turn out your toes.
Oh, you are my every-day dolly!
And this one in silk dress and hat
I'll put on the shelf: call it folly,
Yet old friends are best, for all that.
[THE SNOW BEN.]
BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.
"We can beat that," said Joe Larkin, contemptuously, as he drew back and began to blow through his red fists. "That isn't any kind of a snow man."
"Like to know why," said Dan Madderley. "He's all right but his ears. We can make them of the same size, easy."
"Yes, but he ain't right anyhow. Everything's just stuck on outside. When I was in the city once, I saw a sculptor chiselling a man out of marble. 'Twasn't much like this thing."