Then the bonne told where she found him, and they looked at his hair, and talked so much about it, that Parley-voo wished he could sink through the floor out of sight. And he thought to himself that he would never again touch any thing he had been told not to.
The nurse took him up to the nursery, and dressed him all fresh and nice before his father came home. But the pretty yellow hair was two or three months growing out.
ELIZABETH A. DAVIS.
BABY'S RIDE.
Clear the way all, move the playthings aside,
Baby is having a glorious ride:
See! from the hall he comes galloping in,
Dimpled hands folded beneath papa's chin.
Golden curls flying, fat cheeks all aglow,
Three pearly teeth peeping out in a row:
Hark! how he crows, and laughs out in his glee!
Never was baby more happy than he.
Now he goes trotting along to the town,
Far away, far away, up hill and down;
Back to mamma then as quick as he can,
There's a good ride for papa's little man!
RUTH REVERE.