he best she could do, poor little Bo-Peep!
Was to try to fasten them where they grew--
Or that was, at least, what she intended,--
But if she did it I never knew,
For now my story is ended!

[Color Plate:]

Buz, Buz, Buz--says the Great buzzing Bee.
Go away butterfly--this flower is for me.
Why? Why? Why? says the little butterfly,
If you may sit on this flower, why may'nt I?

HOP-O-MY-THUMB

Once on a time there was a fagot-maker,
And he had seven sons.
Who could be aught but poor to feed and shelter
So many little ones?

For all were merely lads; not one was able
To earn the crust of bread,
Though scant it might be, coarse and black and humble,
With which he must be fed.

And, worst of all, the youngest one was puny,
So odd, and still, and slight,
That father, mother, and the other brothers,
Thought him not over bright.

So small he was when he was born, so tiny
Since then he had become,
That--for he was no bigger than your finger--
They called him Hop-o'-my-Thumb.

Now at this time, for days and days together,
There fell no drop of rain;
The corn shrunk on the stalks; and in the sunshine
Rustled the shriveled grain;

As if a fire had swept across the meadows
They shriveled in the drouth;
And what this meant for the poor fagot-maker
Was famine, without doubt.

One night he sat before a smouldering fire,
His head bowed down with grief,
Trying with those weak wits of his to compass
Some scheme for their relief.

His wife above the feeble embers hovered,
And wrung her toil-hard hands;
She knew there was no help for their starvation,
No hope in making plans.

At last he spoke: "Ah, bad luck to the trying,
I cannot find them food!
To-morrow morning with me to the forest
I'll take the little brood!

"I cannot bear to watch this piece meal starving,
So, while they run and play,
Or gather fagots for me, or pick berries
To eat, I'll come away!"

"Oh!" groaned the wife, "I'm sure the wolves will eat them,
Poor dears--poor little dears!
Yet do as you think best--we all must perish!"
Then went to bed in tears.

Meanwhile, though all the rest were s