She never sighs;
She never grumbles;
She never cries
When down she tumbles.
She never soils
Her pretty dresses;
She never spoils
Her silken tresses.
With cap on head,
And wee hands folded,
She's put to bed,
And never scolded.
Oh, she's a pearl!
No mischief scheming;
There's such a girl,—
Don't think I'm dreaming.
But not to tell
Her name were folly:
You know her well,
For she's your Dolly!
George Cooper.
A LETTER FROM CALCUTTA.
Dear "Nursery,"—Way out here, a long distance from my real home, which is not far from Boston, my grandmamma sends you; and I am so fond of hearing the stories read, that I think some of your children would like to read a story about this country.
There are many things here which would be new and strange to most of them; but few things are more funny than the crows playing their pranks. The crows are very like those at home, except that these little fellows have slate-colored necks, and are much more bold.
If a window or door is left open, it will not be a minute before one or more crows will arrive and look about in search of food. If you chance to leave any thing about that is eatable, it is seized and carried off in an instant.
There is a great park here, known as the Maidan, where dogs run with bones to pick; and this habit of the dogs suits the crows perfectly, for they always try to get away the bones, and often succeed too. This is the way they usually go to work. The first crow that sees a dog with a bone calls all his friends, and off they fly to where the dog is. There they alight, and stand around him.