fast the door
And creeping up the stair;--

[Illustration]

Someone with scissors in his hand,
And dreadful gleaming eyes;
"Where is that child who will not comb
The tangles out?" he cries.
In vain Amanda shrieks and runs,
He has her by the hair;
Snip-snap! the shining scissors go
And leave her head quite bare.

[Illustration]

Now when mamma comes home again,
Ah, what is her surprise
To see Amanda's naked head
And note her tearful eyes;
And now lest she a cold should catch
A nightcap she must wear,
And when her locks have grown again
I'm sure she'll comb her hair.

THE CHILD WHO WOULD NOT GO TO BED

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

"I do not want to go to bed;
I will not go!" cried naughty Fred.
But it was growing very late;
The clock had long ago struck eight,
And so mamma, impatient grown,
Went off and left him there alone.
But hark! Creak, creak! upon the stair;
It was the sand-man walking there.

[Illustration]

In through the door he looked, and said,
"What! Frederick will not go to bed?"
In vain did Frederick kick and bawl,
The sand-man would not heed at all;
He tumbled Fred into his sack,
And off he bore him on his back;
Away he went out through the door,
On, on for many a mile and more.

[Illustration]

At last the sand-man, weary grown,
Sat down to rest upon a stone.
Then Frederick turned himself about,
And quick he whipped his jack-knife out;
Ke--scritchy--scritch! He cuts a slit
And softly clambers out of it.
And now he runs as quick as thought,
And soon a heavy stone has brought;

[Illustration]

He softly slips it in the sack
That hangs upon the sand-man's back.
Says clever Fred, "He will not see
He has a stone instead of me."
And now the sand-man grunts and sighs,
And slowly he begins to rise.

[Illustration]

And Frederick hears him sigh, "Alack,
How that boy thumps about my back!"
The stupid sand-man never sees
Where Frederick crouches on his knees,
Behind the rock, till out of sight
The old sand-man has vanished quite.

[Illustration]

But Fred, a thankful boy is he,
As home he hastens tearfully.
And ah his mother! with what joy
She welcomes home her little boy.
"Ah always after this," cries Fred,
"I will be good, and go to bed."

THE BEET

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

"I will not wash my face I say;
I will n