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Page 139. "The Man in the Moon"

The Raggedy Man, who tells this story, was what in England is called an odd or handy man.

The following description of him is from another of Mr. Riley's poems, written in what is known in America as the Hoosier dialect. A little study will make the words plain :

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! the Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa; An' he's the goodest man ever you saw ! He comes to our house every day,

An' waters the horses, and feeds 'em hay;
An' he opens the shed-an' we all 'ist laugh

When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf;
An' nen-ef our hired girl says he can-
He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann.

Ain't he a awful good Raggedy Man?
Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

W'y, the Raggedy Man-he's 'ist so good
He splits the kindlin' and chops the wood;
An' nen he spades in our garden, too,
An' does most things 'at boys can't do.
He climbed clean up in our big tree
An' shooked a apple down fer me---
An' nother'n, too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann-
An' nother'n, too, fer the Raggedy Man.

Ain't he a awful kind Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man !

Page 144.

"The Wreck of the Steamship Puffin"

This is from Mr. Punch's Young Reciter, by Mr. Anstey, published by Messrs. Bradbury, Agnew, and Co. It ought to be stated that in the book the ballad is accompanied by directions telling how it ought (or ought not) to be recited.

Page 153.

"Symon's Lesson of Wisdom for all

Manner of Children

"

The piece from which these lines are taken is four hundred years old. By the advice of Dr. Furnivall the spelling has been made modern; otherwise everything is as the quaint and very thorough instructor wrote it. The Lesson in full is to be seen in Dr. Furnivall's Babees' Book, one of the Early English Text Society's publications. Another piece in the same collection, "The Birched Schoolboy," dated 1500, ends with the following wish :

I

WOULD my master were a wat [a hare],

And my book a wild cat,

And a brace of greyhounds in his top:

I would be glad for to see that!

What availeth me though I say nay?

I would my master were a hare,
And all his books hounds were,
And I myself a jolly hunter:

To blow my horn I would not spare!
For if he were dead I would not care.

What availeth me though I say nay?

Birching or whipping now grows less and less common. Once it seems to have been continuous. In a school-book published in 1664, I find these threatening verses addressed by the schoolmaster to his pupils :

MY child and schollar, take good heed

Unto the words that here are set,

And see thou do accordingly,

Or else be sure thou shalt be beat.

First, I command thee God to serve,
Then to thy Parents duty yield,

Unto all Men be courteous,

And mannerly in town and field.

If broken Hos'd or Shoo'd you go,
Or Slovenly in your array,
Without a Girdle or Untrust,

Then you and I must have a fray.

If that thou cry or talk aloud,

Or Books do rend, or strike with Knife

Or Laugh or Play Unlawfully,

Then you and I must be at strife.

If that you Curse, Miscall, or Swear,

If that you Pick, Filch, Steal, or Lye, If you forget a Schollar's part,

Then must you sure your points untye.

Wherefore, my child, behave thy self
So decently in all thy ways

That thou may'st purchase Parents' love,
And eke obtain thy Master's praise.

Counsel (the title of this section) usually means counsel from the old to the young, but there is also counsel upsidedown, as we might call it. In St. Nicholas is the following example, called " A Lesson for Mamma," by Sydney Dayre :—

DEAR mother, if you just could be

A tiny little girl like me,

And I your mother, you would see
How nice I'd be to you.

I'd always let you have your way;
I'd never frown at you and say:
"You are behaving ill to-day;

Such conduct will not do."

I'd always give you jelly-cake

For breakfast, and I'd never shake

My head, and say: "You must not take

So very large a slice."

I'd never say: "My dear, I trust

You will not make me say you must

Eat up your oatmeal"; or, "The crust
You'll find is very nice."

I'd buy you candy every day;

I'd go down town with you, and say:
"What would my darling like? You may
Have anything you see."

I'd never say: "My pet, you know
'Tis bad for health and teeth, and so
I cannot let you have it. No;
It would be wrong in me."

And every day I'd let you wear
Your nicest dress, and never care
If it should get a great big tear ;
I'd only say to you:
"My precious treasure, never mind,
For little clothes will tear, I find."
Now, mother, wouldn't that be kind?
That's just what I should do.

I'd never say: "Well, just a few!"
I'd let you stop your lessons, too;
I'd say: "They are too hard for you,
Poor child, to understand."

I'd put the books and slates away;
You shouldn't do a thing but play,
And have a party every day.

Ah-h-h! wouldn't that be grand!

But, mother dear, you cannot grow
Into a little girl, you know,
And I can't be your mother; so

The only thing to do,

Is just for you to try and see
How very, very nice 'twould be
For you to do all this for me.

Now, mother, couldn't you?

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