MOTHER'S BABY.
Mother has gone to breakfast,
And left the baby alone,
But he's seated among the pillows
Like a dear little king on a throne.
If mother don't come to the baby,
Why, then he has only to cry,
And you may be sure she will hurry,
Catch him, and sing lullaby.
[OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
Who wants to help clean house? Elsie, with her sweeping-cap on and her new broom in her hand, says, "I." Susie, with her dancing eyes and her dimpled cheeks, flies for the duster, and declares that she means to be mamma's chief assistant. Jack and Tom, who are very strong, and like to show what splendid muscles they have, are on the spot, ready to lift and carry and do all they can to aid in the spring campaign.
House-cleaning is not the quietest work in the world, but it is work that pays in the end; and good-natured people often find plenty of fun in it.
Lost things often come to light in the May days, when everything is brushed and beaten, pounded and shaken, washed and rubbed, polished and painted, until the world puts on a new face. There was once a little girl who said to a gentleman, in reply to his remark that it was a very bright morning, "Yes, sir; mother washed the windows yesterday."
To return to the lost things, is it not pleasant to find them when they have been out of sight for ever so long? For instance, the Postmistress has a favorite paper-knife which came all the way from Japan. Some time ago it mysteriously disappeared, and though hunted for in every imaginable place, it could not be found. The other day, in house-cleaning, it turned up suddenly. It had cozily tucked itself in between the back of a sofa and the seat, and no doubt had laughed many a time—that is, if a paper-knife can laugh—when it had heard its owner wondering where it could possibly be. It would be a good plan for us all, Postmistress and children, to adopt this old-fashioned rule: "A place for everything, and everything in its place."