me made a curtsy, the dog made a bow,
The dame said "your servant," the dog said "Bow-wow."

She went to the hatter's to buy him a hat,
And when she came back he was feeding the cat.

She went to the tailor's to buy him a coat,
And when she came back he was riding the goat.

She went to the barber's to buy him a wig,
And when she came back he was dancing a jig.

She went to the butcher's to get him some tripe,
And when she came back he was smoking a pipe.

She went to the fish-shop to buy him some fish,
And when she came back he was washing the dish.

She went to the tavern for white wine and red,
And when she came back the dog stood on his head.

* * * * *

As I was going to St. Ives
I met a man with seven wives;
Every wife had seven sacks,
Every sack had seven cats,
Every cat had seven kits.
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were going to St. Ives?

* * * * *

POLLY

Brown eyes, straight nose;
Dirt pies, rumpled clothes.

Torn books, spoilt toys:
Arch looks, unlike a boy's;

Little rages, obvious arts;
(Three her age is), cakes, tarts;

Falling down off chairs;
Breaking crown down stairs;

Catching flies on the pane;
Deep sighs--cause not plain;

Bribing you with kisses
For a few farthing blisses.

Wide-a-wake; as you hear,
"Mercy's sake, quiet, dear!"

New shoes, new frock;
Vague views of what's o'clock

When it's time to go to bed,
And scorn sublime for what is said

Folded hands, saying prayers,
Understands not nor cares--

Thinks it odd, smiles away;
Yet may God hear her pray!

Bed gown white, kiss Dolly;
Good night!--that's Polly,

Fast asleep, as you see,
Heaven keep my girl for me!

WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS

* * * * *

CRADLE HYMN

Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber;
Holy angels guard thy bed;
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide;
All without thy care, or payment,
All thy wants are well supplied.

How much better thou'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven He descended,
And became a child like thee!

Soft and easy is thy cradle;
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,
When His birthplace was a stable,
An