ery well just now."

* * * * *

Ding dong bell,
The cat's in the well!
Who put her in?--
Little Johnny Green.
Who pulled her out?--
Big Johnny Stout.
What a naughty boy was that
To drown poor pussy cat,
Who never did him any harm,
But killed the mice in his father's barn!

DAISIES.

At evening when I go to bed
I see the stars shine overhead;
They are the little daisies white
That dot the meadow of the Night.

And often while I'm dreaming so,
Across the sky the Moon will go;
It is a lady, sweet and fair,
Who comes to gather daisies there.

For, when at morning I arise,
There's not a star left in the skies;
She's picked them all and dropped them down
Into the meadows of the town.

SPINNING TOP.

When I spin round without a stop
And keep my balance like the top,
I find that soon the floor will swim
Before my eyes; and then, like him,
I lie all dizzy on the floor
Until I feel like spinning more.

PROVERBS AND POPULAR SAYINGS.

Every dog has its day.
Every horse thinks his own pack heaviest.
Every little helps.
Every man for himself, and God for us all.
Faint heart never won fair lady.
Fair words butter no parsnips.
Fine feathers make fine birds.
Follow the river and you will get to the sea.
Fools build houses, and wise men live in them.
For every evil under the sun, there is a remedy, or there is none;
If there be one, try and find It; if there be none, never mind it.
For want of a nail the shoe is lost; for want of a shoe the horse is lost;
for want of a horse the rider is lost.

* * * * *

Bobby Shafto's gone to sea,
With silver buckles at his knee;
He'll come back and marry me,--
Pretty Bobby Shafto!

Bobby Shafto's fat and fair,
Combing out his yellow hair,
He's my love for evermore,--
Pretty Bobby Shafto!

* * * * *

Every lady in this land
Has twenty nails upon each hand
Five and twenty on hands and feet.
All this is true without deceit.

* * * * *

Great A, little a,
Bouncing B!
The cat's in the cupboard,
And she can't see.

* * * * *

Hark, hark,
The dogs do bark,
The beggars are coming to town;
Some in rags,
Some in jags,
And some in velvet gowns.

* * * * *

Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye;
Four and twenty blackbirds