ing of over-feeding. The
physicians, however, prescribed for him--a dose of castor oil.

His mamma attempted to give him the castor oil; but Limby, although he
liked tops and bottoms, and cordial, and pap, and sweetbread, and
oysters, and other things nicely dished up, had no fancy for castor oil,
and struggled, and kicked, and fought every time his nurse or mamma
attempted to give it him.

'Limby, my darling boy,' said his mamma, 'my sweet cherub, my only
dearest, do take its oily poily--there's a ducky, deary--and it shall
ride in a coachy poachy.'

'O! the dear baby,' said the nurse, 'take it for nursey. It will take it
for nursey--that it will.'

The nurse had got the oil in a silver medicine spoon, so contrived that
if you could get it into the child's mouth the medicine must go down.
Limby, however, took care that no spoon should go into his mouth; and
when the nurse tried the experiment for the nineteenth time, gave a
plunge and a kick, and sent the spoon up to the ceiling, knocked off
nurse's spectacles, upset the table on which all the bottles and glasses
were, and came down whack on the floor.

His mother picked him up, clasped him to her breast, and almost
smothered him with kisses. 'O! my dear boy,' said she, 'it shan't take
the nasty oil--it won't take it, the darling; naughty nurse to hurt
baby: it shall not take nasty physic'; and then she kissed him again.

Poor Limby, although only two years old, knew what he was at--he was
trying to get the master of his mamma; he felt he had gained his point,
and gave another kick and a squall, at the same time planted a blow on
his mother's eye.

'Dear little creature,' said she, 'he is in a state of high convulsions
and fever--he will never recover.'

But Limby did recover, and in a few days was running about the house,
and the master of it; there was nobody to be considered, nobody to be
consulted, nobody to be attended to, but Limby Lumpy.

II

Limby grew up big and strong; he had everything his own way. One day,
when he was at dinner with his father and mother, perched upon a double
chair, with his silver knife and fork, and silver mug to drink from, he
amused himself by playing drums on his plate with the mug.

'Don't make that noise, Limby, my dear,' said his father. 'Dear little
lamb,' said his mother, 'let him amuse himself. Limby, have some pudding?'

'No; Limby no pudding'--_drum! drum! drum!_

A piece of pudding was, however, put on Limby