I've seen a little beggar-girl
Go by in all the cold;
She had no shoes nor stockings on,
Her dress was torn and old.
How thankful I should be to God,
Who gives me clothes and food,
A nice warm fire, a pleasant home,
And parents kind and good!
Mamma, I'll always try to help
The hungry and the poor;
For those who are not warmed and fed,
I pity, I am sure.
THE CHILD WHO WOULD NOT BE WASHED
[Illustration: Letter D.]
"Don't wash me, pray, mamma, today,"
I once heard little Jennie say,
"For oh! so very hard you rub,
I never want to see my tub."
"O, very well," her mother said;
"I'll put you back again to bed;
And you must in your night-gown stay,
Nor come down stairs at all to-day."
And then I heard Miss Jennie cry,
And beg mamma to let her try;
And say, as she had done before,
That she'd so naughty be no more.
Her mother turned and left her there;
She heard her step upon the stair;
But in her chamber, all day long,
She staid alone, for doing wrong.
She heard her sister jump and run,
And longed to join her in her fun;
Her brother made a snow-man high;
But she upon her bed must lie.
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