When he reaches the place where
"Jack fell down
Boke cown,"
he invariably leaves Gill to take care of herself, and closes with the pathetic moral reflection, "'At too bad!" Little Jack Horner, having put in his thumb and picked out a plum, is made to declare definitely and redundantly,—
"My ga-ate big boy, jus' so big!"
He persists in praying,—
"'F I should die 'fore I wake up."
Borne off to bed a last, in spite of every pretext for delay, tired Nature droops in his curling lashes, and gapes protractedly through his wide-dividing lips.
"I seepy," he cries, fighting of sleep with the bravery of a Major-General,—observing phenomena, in articulo somni, with the accuracy and enthusiasm of a naturalist, and reasoning from them with the skill of a born logician.
A second prolonged and hearty gape, and
"I two seepies," he cries, adding mathematics to his other accomplishments.