GEORGIE LIE-A-BED

"Come, come, get up," cried nurse to George; "The breakfast table's spread; The porridge will be getting cold, And you are still in bed." George only sighed and turned about, And went to sleep once more. Now did you ever know of such A lazy child before?

When little George at last arose The sun was overhead; He looked about, no clothes he saw; "Where can they be?" he said. "Nurse, nurse," he cried, "where are my clothes? I do not see them here." "Why, no," said nurse, "you will not find Your clothes to-day, I fear;

Some other child has now your suit, Because I thought, indeed, If you were going to lie in bed, Your clothes you would not need. But if you really wish to dress And go to school, see there, The little dress a year ago Your sister used to wear."

Now how ashamed is little George To have to dress like that; To have to wear his sister's frock, Her ribbons and her hat. Now in the street the children point And stare as he goes by; "Come look at Georgie-Lie-a-Bed, How he is dressed," they cry.

Now little George is so ashamed To have them see him so, He turns about and home he runs As fast as he can go. "Oh, mother dear," he cries, "if I May have my clothes once more, I'll try to be a better boy Than I have been before."

"Why," says mamma, "since that's the case, And you repent, my dear, Your little trousers, shirt, and coat— Just see—they all are here." And since that day mamma and nurse Are proud and glad to see Their little George can such a prompt And early riser be.

A naughty child Amanda was;— She would not comb her hair; Though it was rough and tangled, too, Amanda did not care; And when mamma the matted locks Would fain have brushed and tied, Amanda only pushed away Her hand and stamped and cried.

But listen now! It chanced one time Mamma had gone away. Amanda she had left at home All by herself that day. Then someone rattled at the latch;— Amanda heard him there;— She heard him shutting fast the door And creeping up the stair;—

Someone with scissors in his hand, And dreadful gleaming eyes; "Where is that child who will not comb The tangles out?" he cries. In vain Amanda shrieks and runs, He has her by the hair; Snip-snap! the shining scissors go And leave her head quite bare.

Now when mamma comes home again, Ah, what is her surprise To see Amanda's naked head And note her tearful eyes; And now lest she a cold should catch A nightcap she must wear, And when her locks have grown again I'm sure she'll comb her hair.