PICKINGS AND STEALINGS. (continued 2)

No. 182. Another Word for a Blow.—A little boy and girl were playing on the road-side among the clover-blossoms and butter-cups. The boy, who seemed about five, suddenly took offence, and gave his little playmate, who was still younger, a smart slap on the cheek. She turned away, and sat down in the long grass, and began to cry. At first, the poor boy seemed cross and sulky, as if determined to brave it out, but after a minute or two his beautiful eyes changed color, his mouth trembled, and he said, "I didn't mean to hurt you, Katy, darling—I am sorry." The little rosy face brightened up—the sobs were hushed. "Well, then, if you are sorry," said she, "it don't hurt me."

No. 183. Just as the Twig is bent, etc. etc.—In order to amuse the children of a sabbath-school, the teacher began reading to her class the story of David and Goliah; and coming to the passage where Goliah so boastingly dared the stripling shepherd-boy to enter the list, a little chap, newly breeched, up and said to her, "Skip that! skip that! He's blowin'—I want to know who licked."

No. 184. And only yesterday the following illustration of my text happened in Fore-Street. Near Gorham's Corner, two little boys had set themselves in battle-array against a third, somewhat larger. They were all in petticoats, by the way. At last one of the two stepped a little in advance of his companion, and bending his arm like a prize-fighter, sung out, "D'ye see that! jess feel o' that air muscle!" The arm appeared about the size of a turkey's leg, while he was manipulating the biceps; and the countenance that of a trained pugilist. As the bigger boy stepped up to feel that muscle, the little fellow let fly, and sent him head over heels into the gutter, petticoats and all.

No. 185. The Gates Ajar.—"Our five-year-old," says a neighbor, "stood looking at the new moon a night or two ago. After a long and thoughtful pause, he turned to his mother and whispered, 'Mamma, O mamma! Dod has opened the door a little way.'"

No. 186. Inferential.—A mother, who had with her a little daughter, was examining the figure of a horse on a tomb-stone, and wondering what on earth it was an emblem of. There was nothing to explain it, in the inscription. "Mamma," said the little one, as they moved away, "I shouldn't wonder if she died of the nightmare."

No. 187. Capital!—Just before Washington's birthday, in February last, a teacher, while notifying the class, and preparing them for the holiday, said something to the purpose, about the Father of his Country, and then put the question,—

"Why should we celebrate Washington's birthday any more than mine?"

"Because he never told a lie!" shouted a young whippersnapper near the door. But as he didn't vanish, probably he didn't mean it. He had only read Weems's "Life of Washington" to advantage, and didn't care who knew it.

No. 188. Save the Pieces!—At Winchester, N.H., last winter, a girl of ten, the daughter of O. L. Howard, coasted over a bank twenty feet high, into the Ashuelot river. While on the way she was heard saying to herself, "I'm afraid I shall lose my sled!" But she didn't, and was none the worse for her ducking, though rather damp.

No. 189. Sublime.—A cowardly scamp, though fashionably dressed, having kicked a poor little newsboy, for trying to sell him a paper, the lad hove to, till another boy accosted the "gentleman," and then shouted, in the hearing of all the bystanders, "It's no use to try him, Joe—he can't read."

No. 190. Constructiveness.—The Belfast Journal renders an account of a young authoress in that neighborhood, who, at the age of nine, has written the opening chapter of a sensation story. Two of the characters are described as twins, one five, and the other six years old.

No. 191. Boston Notions.—The rector of a parish in Toledo, Ohio, was lately catechizing the children of his Sunday-school, and asked, "Where did the wise men come from?" "From Boston!" shouted a little wretch, at the top of his voice. Upon further inquiry, it was found that both father and mother were of the Bay-State faith.

No. 192. Timely Preparation.—The Lewiston Journal says that a little four-year-old, while standing by her teacher on examination-day, after having spelt cat, dog, ox, cow, and some other monosyllables, suddenly snatched at the teacher's watch-guard, and whispered, "Please, mayn't I be 'smissed after my class gets through readin', so 't I can run home an' get my hair fizzled for the 'mittee?" Whereupon the teacher 'smissed her.

No. 193. Conscience-money.—A Sunday-school teacher was in the habit of passing round the hat among the little folks, for missionary purposes. One day, he was thrown all aback, on finding a counterfeit shilling among the coppers. Diligent inquiry being had, the little reprobate, who was only expected to give a penny, but an honest penny, was found out. "Georgie," said the teacher, with great seriousness, "didn't you know it was good for nothing?" "To be sure I did," muttered the boy. "Then why did you put it into the box?" "Well, I didn't 'spose the little heathens would know the difference, and so I thought it would be just as good for them."

No. 194. Combativeness.—"Look here, mister!" sung out a lad of seven, who had been treed by a ferocious dog; "if you don't call that dog off, I'll eat up all your peaches!"

No. 195. Childish Faith.—A little fellow with his first pocket-knife, had it in use most of the time, for several days, occasionally lending it to his playmates, "just to whittle with." One evening, after he had been got ready for the night, and was kneeling by his mother's lap in his night-gown, he finished off the usual service of "Now I lay me," with a "please God give little Jemmy Bailey a knife of his own, so't he won't have to borrow mine all the time."

No. 196. A Good Lesson for Mothers.—A bright-eyed, active little fellow, who in due time made his way up to the desk, used to beset his mother, in season and out of season, for a coat like his elder brothers, with pockets behind. To all his importunities, the reply was—"Don't be in a hurry; you are a little boy,—little boys don't wear such coats. When you get to be a man, you shall have a coat with pockets behind." After awhile the boy had to go to the springs for his health; but he shuddered and shrank away from the cold bath. "Why, Charley, you are a man—you shouldn't be afraid."

"O yes, I understand," was the reply; "when I want pockets behind, I am only a little boy; and now that you want me to go in here—now, I am a man."

No. 197. Funeral Ceremonies.—The San Francisco correspondent of a Sacramento paper tells the following: "A little friend of ours found among the gifts of Santa Claus a plump little waxen-doll. She christened it Maud, and used to take it out for a walk, every pleasant morning. The other day, on seeing a rag of orange-colored merino pinned to a stick by the nursery-door, I peeped in at the children, but was immediately served with notice to quit, by Bobby, who seemed to be the doctor, or a health committee-man; for 'Maud was tooken dreadful bad with the small-pox, and the yeller flag was hung out—didn't I see it?' Soon after this, I heard a piteous wailing, with a sad attempt, and a sadder failure, to sing the sabbath-school hymn, 'Sister thou wast Mild and Lovely,' after which there was a little, crooked, undulating procession, Bobby carrying the dog and Floy the cat, wrapped in shawls, and as they slowly made their way up the hill, into the garden, I understood, from the dismal moaning and sobbing, and from the melancholy rags they bore, that the undertakers were 'performing' a funeral, poor Maud having died of the terrible visitation. I hurried up to the grave, in what I dare say passed for unseemly haste, but just in time to save the poor little wax baby from being buried alive, or, at least, in all her bewitching helplessness. Upon remonstrating, 'We'd ony sowed her up in a bag,' murmured Floy, 'and we would have undigged her.'"

No. 198. Glimpses of the sabbath-school.—"Gerty, my dear, you were a very good little girl to-day," said the teacher. "Yes'm—I couldn't help bein good; I got a tiff neck," said Gerty, with perfect seriousness.

"Who's that a-bearin'?"—The solemnity of a fashionable church in Chicago was greatly disturbed, not long ago, by a little incident worth remembering. Somebody's three-year-old pet had been often amused at home with pretty good imitations of a bear, growling over his prey. While the congregation were singing, one of those predetermined, zealous worshippers, to be found everywhere, who cannot be persuaded to withhold their contributions in church, though they never dream of pitching a tune anywhere else, began a low, growling accompaniment, within two or three pews of the child, without regard for time or tune, though evidently to his own satisfaction, under an idea that he was singing base—instead of basely. The little one looked surprised, and turning suddenly to mamma, asked, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the whole congregation, just as a lull occurred in the stanza, "O mamma! mamma! who's that a-bearin'?"

Will nobody take the hint? Let us have congregational singing by all means, instead of oratorios and operas, for church music—but no menagerie music, if you please.

No. 199. A Plea in Bar.—"Come up here, you young reprobate, and take a sound spanking," said the teacher, out of all patience with a mischievous, quick-witted boy.

"You ain't got no right to spank me, and the copy you've set for me says so."

"Saucebox! Let me hear you read that copy; read it aloud, so that everybody can hear you."

Whereupon the boy reads, like a trumpet, "'Let all the ends thou aimest at be thy country's!'"

"Go to your seat, you young scapegrace."

And he went.

No. 200. Foresight.—"Two cocoa-nuts for ten cents! hurrah!" shouted a little shaver to his playfellow across the street; "that'll make me sick to-morrow, and I shan't have to go to school—hurrah!"

No. 201. I wouldn't, would you?—A three-year-old youngster saw a drunken fellow staggering through a crowded thoroughfare. "Mother," said he, "did God make that man?" "Yes, my dear." "Well," after considering a moment, "maybe He did, but I wouldn't have done it."

No. 202. A drop of Gold.—"Mother," said a little poet of four summers, "just hear the trees makin' music, for the leaves to dance by."

No. 203. Another!—A little fellow was eating bread and milk, when he turned round to his mother and exclaimed, "O mother! I'm full of glory! There was a lot o' sunshine in my spoon, and I swallowed it!"

No. 204. Suggestive.—"She said she wouldn't let me go to her funeral, grandma; but you'll let me go to yours, grandma, won't you—there's a dear."

No. 205. Logical Inference.—A little boy of our neighborhood, with an eye as clear as a kitten's, had a dog named Caper. Dining with his grandmother not long ago, when they had boiled mutton, his attention was attracted by something he saw in the butter-boat. "What's them, gam'ma?" said he. "Capers, my dear." He looked puzzled—grew thoughtful—and watched the plates awhile, and then, having made up his mind, he came out with, "Please, gam'ma, I want some more o' them little dogs." Of course he had them.

No. 206. Classification.—"Who makes the laws of our government?" asked a committee-man of the class under review—a class of Lilliputians. "Congress." "And how is Congress divided?" A dead silence. At last a dear little thing, not more than so high, with a wonderful memory, threw up her hand, thereby signifying that she was ready to answer it. "Well," said the teacher, "what say you, Sallie? How are they divided?" "Into civilized, half-civilized, and savage," was the triumphant reply. If it be true, that the greater the truth the greater the libel, might not Miss Sallie be indicted? Congressional miscreants are getting so plentiful, just now, that children should be cautioned—or tongue-tied.

No. 207. Funny.—"There now!" said a little bit of a thing, while rummaging a drawer in a bureau, and turning the contents all topsy-turvy, of course; "there now! gran'pa has gone to heaven without his spectacles. Won't you take 'em with you, gramma, when you go?"

No. 208. A Natural Bonesetter.—A little fellow pitched head foremost from the top of a coal-bin, and put his shoulder out. A surgeon was sent for "about the quickest." No sooner had the messenger turned his back, than the boy went to work anew, notwithstanding the pain, and while climbing over the back of a chair, as if it were a ladder, he got another tumble, which frightened his poor mother so that she hadn't strength enough to scream. But lo! up jumped the young scapegrace, and began surveying his arm, and shouting, "It's all right, mother! it's all right!" And so it proved. The dislocation had been reduced with a snap, the joint was back in its place, and the young gentleman was ready for another demonstration.

No. 209. No you don't!—Freddy, between three and four, and Willie, about five, were both extravagantly fond of milk, and always had a mug of the best, to top off with, at supper; but, being in the country the other day, they happened, for the first time in their lives, to see a girl milking. "There now, Willie," said the youngest, "you see that, don't you? I don't want any more milk after the cow's had it," averting his eyes from the operation as he spoke, with an expression of downright loathing. At supper, when their little mugs of milk were got ready for them, both refused to touch them. On being questioned, Freddy contented himself with saying that, for his part, he didn't want any milk after the cows had it—and there he stopped, as if unwilling to go farther. But Willie came out plump, with an account of the discovery made in the morning.

Their mother saw that she had no time to lose; otherwise an unconquerable repugnance might be associated with their fondness for a wholesome diet, and so she told them how milk was made: that they did not have it from the cows at second-hand, but that when cows ate grass, and clean vegetables, and fruit, they were all changed into milk by a wonderful chemical process, like that which turns all our food to nourishment, giving us flesh and blood, bones and muscle, according to our growth. Willie seemed satisfied with the explanation, and went back to the little mug; but Freddy was not to be persuaded.

After supper Willie took his brother aside into a corner, and was overheard expostulating with him, and saying, "It's all right now, Freddy, and you can go on drinking your milk, just as you always have. The cow eats grass, and that's what makes it. Now if the cow didn't eat the grass, you'd have to, you see. That's what the cow's for."

Freddy went back to his milk without another word, as being, at the worst, somewhat more agreeable than eating grass.

No. 210. Little Pitchers have Big Ears.—A child, the son of a minister, sat on the floor playing with his blocks one afternoon, when two or three female parishioners dropped in for a dish of chat with mamma. The conversation, after a few moments, turned, very naturally, it may be supposed, on a floating scandal of the day. They had entirely forgotten the child; but all at once recollected themselves, and came to a sudden stop, and, looking at each other, tried to recall what had been said.

There sat the little imp, busy with his playthings, and, as it appeared upon further inquiry, after the visitors had gone, without having understood a syllable of what had been said; but the lively chattering stopped so suddenly, he looked up, and then, turning over and rolling on the floor, as if unable to restrain himself, he sung out, "Go on! go right on! that's jess sech as I like to hear, every day!"

No. 211. A Hint for the Doctor.—A little four-year-old midget being in a bad way, was called upon to take a very nauseous medicine, and was sitting in a high chair, in her night-dress, when the cup was offered her. She shook her head with a piteous look, and then said, "No no—me tan't tate it so; but me'll tate it with soogar," and sent off the nurse for a lump. Whereupon her little brother rushed up to her, shouting, "Take it, Sallie! take it, while she's gone, Sallie, and cheat her! and then hide, Sallie—that's the way I do." And thereupon Miss Sallie gulped down the abominable mixture to the last dregs, without winking, only saying, "It choke Sallie," and then scrabbling down from the high chair, and scuttling away under the bed, with an occasional chuckle, and popping out her little curly head, her eyes dancing with joy, while waiting for the nurse to get back. When she appeared, she was welcomed with a shout of triumph by the youthful conspirators, Miss Sallie never dreaming for a moment that she had been bamboozled.

No. 212. The best of Reasons.—"Breakfasting with a physician the other day," says somebody, whose name does not appear in the record, "little Julia began to talk very earnestly, at the first pause in the conversation. Her father checked her, somewhat sharply, saying, 'Why is it that you always talk so much?' ''Tause I've dot somesin to say,' was the reply. The solemn papa was obliged to look another way, while the guests laughed outright."

No. 213. Discouraging.—A little boy named Knight, of the mission-school at New-London, was told by the teachers, one and all, that if he was good, he would go to heaven. The little fellow accepted the situation, and evidently did his best; but the next time he appeared in his place, he seemed downhearted. On being questioned by his teacher about the cause, and asked if he had been a good boy, he replied, "Yes—I've tried ever so hard to be good; but it's no use. The boys tell me I can't go to heaven, if I am ever so good." "And why not, pray?" "Because they tell me the Bible says there'll be no Knight there."

No. 214. How to fix it.—Master Willie, a very good boy, as boys go, happened to begin going to school, just when the first snow fell, and a pretty new sled, with scarlet runners, had become his property. About school-time, therefore, he began to have such terrible aches. But these would soon pass off, and then he would go off to slide. One morning he came to his mamma with a drefful headache—and school had to be given up. "Very well, my dear," said she; "if you have such a terrible headache, you can stay at home this beautiful morning; but remember, you mustn't ask leave to go and slide, for I shall not consent—I tell you now." "Yes, mamma." But within the next half hour Willie came to her, saying his drefful headache was all gone, and would she let him go just this once. "No, Willie—you know what I said—you wouldn't have me tell a lie, would you?"

Willie turned away somewhat discouraged; but after a few moments his little face brightened up, as with inward sunshine, and he stole up to his mother's knee, and whispered,—"No, mother! No, no! I don't want you to tell a lie; but couldn't you just fix it, you see, as you do when you put me to bed, and say you are not going out, and then go?"

No. 215. Excuse my Candor.—"What a fine head your little boy has!" said a propitiatory friend—a phrenologist, perhaps—to a doating father. "Ay, ay," said the delighted papa; "ay, ay, he's a chip of the old block, ain't you, sonny?" "I guess so," said the boy, "for teacher says I'm a little blockhead."

No. 216. One of the Upper Ten.—"Ma," said a little moppet, "if I should die and go to heaven, would I wear my moire antique?" "No, darling, we cannot suppose we shall carry the fashions of this world into the next." "Then, Ma, how would the little angels know I belonged to the best society?"

No. 217. Catching the Idea.—A little chap, on his return from church, one day, where he heard an organ for the first time in his life, said to his mother, "O, mammy, how I do wish you had been at church to-day, to see the fun. There was a man there pumping music out of an old cupboard."

No. 218. Rather embarrassing.—A young lady—all women are ladies, you know—wishing to impress upon her class in the sabbath-school the terrible effect of Nebuchadnezzar's punishment, assured them that for seven long years he ate grass like a cow. Up jumped a little boy with, "Please, ma'am, did he give milk?" It is said the answer was not forthcoming.

No. 219. Total Depravity again.—"O sister! sister!" said little Mattie, "if you would only let me swear once—only just once!" her heart being too full for utterance.

No. 220. A timely Suggestion.—Mamma was telling Master Freddy about the sacrifice, or intended sacrifice, of Isaac, and explaining the illustration which appeared in the old family Bible. There lay the boy, bound hand and foot, on the altar, with the faggots heaped about him, and the great sacrificial knife just ready to descend, and almost touching the nose of the ram. She was explaining, to the best of her knowledge and belief, the necessity of the sacrifice, and the providential appearance of the substitute, when Freddy, whose feelings had been worked up to concert pitch, exclaimed, "Sheepy, sheepy! why don't you grab the knife, and run?"

No. 221. Tenderness of Conscience.—"Dad—I say, dad—Nathan swored last first-day, I heard him," said the little son of Master Blair, a Scotch Quaker, I once knew. "Ah—an' what deed he say, mon?" "He said Old Scratch, an' I heard him."

No. 222. Beautiful—exceedingly!—A little one was talking about home. "And where is your home, dear?" said a listener. Looking up into his mother's face with loving eyes, he whispered, "Where mother is."

No. 223. An embryo Metaphysician.—"What are you going to see, Sherwood?"

"Nothing, gran'pa."

"Nothing, my boy—how can you see nothing?"

"Easy enough, gran'pa."

"Where would you look for it?"

"Down a well, gran'pa."

"Isn't there something burning here?" said the mother of this boy one day, on coming into the room where he was at play, and sniffing as she spoke.

"Yes, mamma," sniffing in reply.

"Bless me—what is it?"

"Coal, mamma."

No. 224. Influence of Example.—The little son of a friend in the army, had learned to curse heartily, whenever anything disturbed him; his father, of whom he had caught the trick, was ordered off, not long ago, to a distant part of the country. Being separated from his boy, and having had time for reflection, perhaps, he wrote home to his wife that he was sorry to hear how little Joe still continued to curse and swear. "Who told him?" said the boy. "He says a little bird told him," was the mother's reply. "D—n that bird!" exclaimed the little scapegrace. He was only six. While yet a baby, but just able to make himself understood, an Irish girl came rushing in to the mother one day, saying, "O ma'am! he keeps a-sayin' Jesus Christ, in the barn!"

No. 225. Retribution.—"Tell you what 'tis, I won't pray for you when I say my prayers, Willie," said a little thing to her playfellow in the next house; "and Jesus won't bless you, and"—after a little hesitation—"and—He shan't redeem you, neither!"

No. 226. A young Poet.—A little four-year-old, laboring to impress a sister with the prodigious quantity of something he had promised to give her, said, "You just turn the sky over and I'll fill it full—chock-full."

No. 227. Literalness.—"I know!" said a little boy to whom his mother was reading that passage where the Lord is said to be walking in the garden in the cool of the day; "I know! Just as papa does, with his hands behind him, and an old coat on."

No. 228. Letting the delicious Secret out.—Soon after his mother's second marriage, a little shaver reached out his hand for another piece of sponge-cake. Step-father shakes his head, and says No, after a fashion that seems to admit of no appeal. "Well," says the boy, "I don't care—only we're sorry we ever married you;" and then, as if concentrating all the bitterness he felt, in a withering outburst, he added, "And mother says so too!"

No. 229. Their Notions of another World.—"Well then," said a little girl, throwing down her book, "I don't want to die and go to heaven that way; but if God would just let down a big basket, and draw me up with a rope, I do think I should like it."

No. 230. Another little girl, after being made to understand what a post mortem examination was, declared that she would never consent to be so dealt with, after death.

"What! when it would be such a help to the living, my dear?"

"Fiddle-de-dee! how would I look going to heaven all cut to pieces?"

No. 231. Another.—Lottie, lying sick with a fever, having lost a dear little cousin not long before, was unwilling to take her medicine, till she was promised a pair of ear-rings. By and by, when she was believed to be sound asleep, her mother was suddenly startled by a burst of loud laughter. Being asked what was the matter, Lottie said, "O, it tickles me so to think how cousin Hiram will laugh, when he sees me come trottin' into heaven with my new ear-rings!"

No. 232. A Justification.—"Golly!—Gosh!—Gracious!" shouted a funny little chap, at something he saw.

"Why, Bobby," said his mother, "where did you pick up such words?"

"O, I've heard you say Gracious, mamma, and the golly-gosh I just made up myself," was the reply.

One day this dear mother, who had expostulated and pleaded with him till she had no patience left, said she could bear with him no longer; she wouldn't have a little boy round her that used such language; and so she would have to put him away, and try to find another little son. In the bitterness and desolation of his heart, Master Bobby went out into the yard, and sat down on the grass to have a good cry by himself; whereupon a little bantam rooster, not understanding the case, flew up on the fence, and fell a-crowing like all possessed. "Shut up, darn you!" blubbered Bobby, through his big dropping tears; "I've trouble enough on my mind, without you!" He had just promised never to use that, nor any other naughty word again, while he breathed the breath of life.

And for a time he kept his promise. But one day, just when they began to feel greatly encouraged, he burst into the room with, "Oh, mother! what do you think? I was coming through the field just now, and a horse was tied there—the wickedest horse ever you did see; an' he jist stood still there, and kept sayin' 'By golly!' and 'By gosh!' and 'Dod darn you!' and everything else he could think of. If you'd a been there, you'd a-whipped him, oh, ever so hard, mamma! wouldn't you? And so would I, if I'd had a whip." His mind was relieved.

No. 233. Fishing and Mousing.—"Some years ago," says the New England correspondent of—I forget what paper, "my cousin kept a district school. Among her scholars was a little fellow of perhaps four years of age, but too young to speak plainly. One day, when all the others were hard at work, this youngster got hold of a pin and a string. The pin he bent into the shape of a fish-hook, baiting it with a morsel of cheese. He had seen a mouse come up through a hole in the corner of the hearth, not long before, and went to work 'bobbing for whales.' On being asked what he was at, he answered, 'Fishin' for a mousie.' This being rather out of the usual course of study, the teacher, by way of punishment, ordered him to stay where he was, and keep bobbing, till further orders. After a while, there was a commotion; the mouse, it seemed, had swallowed the cheese, hook and all, and the next moment Master Jerry, giving a sudden jerk, sprang into the middle of the room, and swinging the mouse round his head, shouted, 'I've dut 'im! I thware I've dut 'im!'"

No. 234. Sunday-school Conundrums.—A smart little chap, with a wicked eye, on being asked what was the chief end of man, replied, "The end what's got the head on."

No. 235. Inferential.—"Oh, mamma! mamma!" shouted a little shaver, as he saw the sun going down, all red, like the opening to a furnace-fire, "see how hot the sky is over there! Santa Claus is bakin', I guess."

Another of these natural philosophers, in petticoats, on hearing a man dump coal into the bin with a terrible rumbling, shouted, "Oh, mother! now I know what makes thunder. It is God puttin' coal on."

No. 236. Coming to the Point.—"Tilly, my love," said a young mother to a daughter in her fourth summer, "what would you do without your mother?"

"I should put on every day just such a dress as I wanted to," said Tilly, coquetting with her little fan.

No. 237. Second Thoughts.—"O papa, is it wrong to change your mind?" "Well, no, my boy—that depends upon circumstances; but why do you ask?" "You know I wanted to be a doctor, papa," said the little five-year-old. "O yes, I remember; and what then?" "Well, if you please, papa, I'd rather be a candy-store."

No. 238. Special Pleading.—"A friend at Lewiston," says one of our newspapers, "told his little Josey, about six years of age, not to go out of the gate again without leave. Soon after, papa missed him from the back-yard, and saw him a long way off, tumbling about on the sidewalk. He went after him, and taking him by the hand, leading him toward the house, and considering the question of punishment for such disobedience, he asked him why he left the yard, when he had been told not to do so. 'Well, you see, papa, you told me not to go out o' the gate; but you didn't tell me not to climb over the fence.'" Demurrer sustained.—Plea adjudged good, and no respondeas ouster allowed.

No. 239. And why not?—"Lottie," said a little visitor, "what makes your Kitty so cross?" "Oh, tause she's tuttin' her teef, I 'spec."

No. 240. Vagabondizing.—Two Illinois chaps, one twelve, and the other only eight, left their homes not long ago to see the world, or seek their fortunes, without money or friends, and journeyed away off into Iowa, three hundred miles or so. The father of one, after snuffing about for two or three days, got upon their track, and followed them to Rock-Grove, Iowa, where he found them pretty well used up, though far from being sick of their bargain. They had no explanations to give—no excuses to offer—but, so far as could be discovered, had no reason for leaving their homes, or running away; and they had actually travelled the whole distance, on railroads and stages, without money and without price.

No. 241. Strange—if true.—"Harry! you shouldn't throw away nice bread like that; you may want it yourself before you die." "Well, mother, and if I should, would I stand any better chance of getting it then, if I should eat it now?"

No. 242. Am I dead, Papa?—Many a child has propounded that same question, with all seriousness, after a narrow escape. The first words of a little boy who had just been fished up at New London lately, were—"Be I dead, though?"

No. 243. Enlisted for the War.—A little three-year-old, whose father, a clergyman, had presented him with a military cap, all "fuss and feathers," insisted on wearing it everywhere, and at all times, marching through all the rooms, to music of his own, hour after hour, and day after day, until his mother found it worth her while to remind him that soldiers didn't train on the Sabbath. Whereupon, our young gentleman started off up stairs, left foot first, with a new tune, compounded of Hail-Columbia and Yankee-Doodle, Mother-Goose and Bobbylink, saying, as he held on his way,—"But I'm a soldier of the Lord, mamma."

No. 244. Repeating the Colic.—The rector of an Episcopal Church in Albany, who had taken the greatest pains with his sabbath-school, and prided himself not a little on the proficiency of his scholars, called upon them one day, after a whole week of preparation, to repeat the Collect. A dead silence: then for a show of hands; not a hand was lifted; but, on casting his eyes over the little community, he saw a sign of encouragement. "Ah, ha!" said he, "I see a little hand raised in Miss Annie's class. Please repeat the Collect, my dear." The poor thing seemed bewildered. "If you know the Collect, Fanny," said the teacher, "why don't you repeat it?" The child blushed and stammered; but on being further questioned, said, "I thought he wanted all that had the colic to hold up their hands; and I had it t'other night, and father had to stay up, and take care of me." To repeat her colic would be no joke to her, whatever it might be to others, and she was probably excused.

No. 245. Instinctive Perception.—How wonderful that children so rarely misapply uncommon words, even where they do not understand them—being their own interpreters. A boy of nearly fourteen, was fishing for trout in a deep, clear brook. A stout, lubberly negro began teasing him, and throwing mud at him. The boy jumped up, and swinging the fish-pole round his head with all his might, fetched the colored gemman such a wipe with the butt, as to send him headlong into the water—where he left him floundering—and cleared out. When he reached home, on being called upon by his mother for an explanation of his uncomfortable appearance, he told her how it had happened. The mother was indignant: to have her boy so treated by a nigger was too much. "And did you brook the outrage?" she asked. "No mother," said the boy, catching the idea, though he did not quite understand the word, "no mother, but I brooked the nigger."

No. 246. A puzzling Question.—A minister of the Gospel, while preparing a discourse for the following Sabbath, stopped now and then to review what he had written, to alter and erase here and there. "Father," said a young theologian of about five, just entering upon the ministry, "father, does God tell you what to preach?" "Certainly, my child." "Then what makes you scratch it out?"

No. 247. Let Brotherly Love prevail.—Another of like spirit, under five, in his regular evening prayer, remembered his younger brother with a sob, who was in a very bad way, after the following fashion: "Oh Lord, don't let my little brother die. Help Dr. S., oh Lord, to make him well—though his parents are Democrats."

No. 248. Baby Champions.—In the "Life of Aaron Burr," by Davis, we have a little incident—the first—which that bad man delighted to recall. An old he-goat, or a ram, I forget which, came at his little grandson, while yet a baby, and threatened him with his horns. The child, having the blood of his grandfather in him, seized a stick, and let him have it with such effect, that the animal sheered off, greatly to the satisfaction of "grumpa," who saw it from the window. And here is another case in pint. A little four-year-old of Mr. Cheney, living in Ashland, N. H., was playing on the front yard with a younger sister and a pet bantam. A large hawk suddenly swooped down upon the poor thing, fastened his talons upon it, and would have carried it off but for the child, who, seizing a hatchet he had been playing with, fell upon the hawk, and pounded him till he let go his prey, and "skedaddled."

No. 249. Budding Nature.—Matthews used to tell a story about a little boy, who, on seeing the cherubim sculptured in Westminster-Abbey, exclaimed, "O mamma, how I do wish I was a cherubim!" to the great joy of his mother, who had to spank him oftener than he thought desirable; but, on being asked wherefore, he said—almost sobbing—"'Cause they ain't got nothin' but wings and head," rubbing his—behind—at the same time, with uncommon energy.

"Ah," said another little chap to a playfellow who had just been sorely trounced, "Ah, ha! I guess you hain't got any gran'-mother!"

And again. "Mamma," said another little tantrybogus, "why are them orphans you talk so much about, and pity so much, the happiest little creatures in the world, arter all?" "They are not, my son; but why do you ask?" "'Cause they hain't got nobody to wallop 'em."

No. 250. A definition of Pride.—"What is pride, my dear?" "Walking with a cane, when you ain't lame," said the little four-year-old to whom the query was propounded.

No. 251. Liberty of Speech.—"Chickerin', is meetin' out?" said a little fellow, perched upon a high fence, many years ago, to Dr. Chickering, on his way from church.

No. 252. The same little rogue, who, by the way, has gone bravely up since, leaving his own monument behind him—as most people do, I believe—was crowing pretty loudly one day, when I was going by. "Holloa there!" said I, "Holloa! I can lick you, Sam Fessenden!"

"Well—I'll tell you what you can't do!" said he.

"What is it?"

"You can't give me a rockin'-horse."

No. 253. Admirable Definition.—At one of the ragged schools of Ireland, a clergyman asked, "What is holiness?"

A dirty, ragged little wretch jumped up, and sung out, "Plase your riverence, it's bein clane inside."

No. 254. Another.—A boy, eight years old, having been told that a reptile is an animal that creeps, and being asked on examination-day to name one, answered, without winking, "A baby."

No. 255. A Young Butcher.—A boy in New York, only five years old, having heard papa say that he wished the two calves they had in the barn were killed, got a hammer, and going to the barn by himself, succeeded in killing them both; and returned to the house to tell the story—to report progress and ask leave to sit again, as we say at Washington, after a similar feat.

No. 256. Flat Contradiction.—"What's that?" said a school-master, pointing to the letter X. "It's daddy's name," said the boy. "No, you little blockhead, it's X." "Tain't X, neither," said the boy; "it's daddy's name, for I seed him write it many a time."

No. 257. A delicate Scruple.—"Oh, mamma!" said a little chap, the other day, who had been listening to her conversation with a neighboring gossip; "did you say I was born a-Sunday?"

"Yes, my child."

"Ain't I wicked, mamma?"

"Why, what makes you ask such a question, Bobby?"

"Well, ain't I a sabbath-breaker, for bein' born a-Sunday? But, mamma, I didn't mean to—I'm sure I didn't."

No. 258. A desirable Parentage.—A crowd of dirty, ragged little creatures were loitering about the large show-window of a confectionery-shop. "O my! don't I wish he was my father!" said a little barefooted girl, with her fist in her mouth. Was her sincerity to be doubted?

No. 259. Not to be mealy-mouthed.—"I dare say when you get back to mamma, Charlie, my boy, she'll have a nice present for you. What would you like best, Charlie? a little brother, or a little sister?" "Well now, Uncle George," after considering awhile, "if it makes no difference to Ma, I'd rather have a pony."

No. 260. High-school Training.—"I say, Ma! do you know what the pyro—pyro—pyrotechnical remedy is, for a crying baby?" said a little miss of thirteen, with cherry lips and roguish eyes.

"Gracious goodness me! no; I never heard of such a thing."

"Well, ma—it's rock-it!"

No. 261. School Exercises.—"Well, Maggie, what do they do at school?" "They whips me." "And then what do you do?" "I tingle, skeam, and dance." Another group of three were questioned. The oldest said, "He had to get grammar, arithmetic, geography," etc., etc. The second, that he "got readin', spellin', and diffinitions." "And what do you get my little man?"—to Master Jack, who happened just then to be spearing the cat with a wooden sword. "Oh, I gets lots—I gets readin', and spellin', and spankin'; and then I gets up in the mornin'—sometimes."

No. 262. Childish Inferences.—"Come now, children, speak up! What is it that makes the sea, salt?" "Codfish!" screamed a boy from a distant corner of the room; "Codfish!" as if he were crying the article to a Down-East population, Saturday morning.

No. 263. Great Forbearance.—"O, Ma," said a little creature, who had been allowed to stay at communion for the first time, "what do you think! a man went round with a plateful of money, and offered it to everybody in our pew; but I didn't take any."

No. 264. A gentle rebuke for the Earl of ——, a pompous and niggardly gentleman, who personally superintends the dairy where he lives, and actually sells the milk to the children with his own hands.

One morning, a pretty child, standing a-tip-toe, with her pitcher and penny held up, caught the eyes of this nobleman. "Now," said he, "my pretty lass—now," patting her on the head, and giving her a kiss—"now, you may tell, as long as you live, that you have been kissed by an Earl."

"O yes—but you took the penny, though," said the little witch, innocently enough, I dare say. But what became of the Earl? Nobody knows. It was a long while ago.

No. 265. Where do all the Cooks go?—A capital housekeeper having discharged her cook with emphasis, exclaimed, "Well, thank heaven! there are no cooks in the other world." Which other world did she mean, think you? Her little girl seemed puzzled; but, after thinking awhile, said, "Well, mamma, then who cooks wash-days? for you know they must have a big wash, as they always wear white."

No. 266. More Sabbath-school Exercises.—"Where was John Rogers burned?—tell me now," said a teacher, in a voice that filled the room, and startled the listeners at the door. "Couldn't tell," said the first. No answer from the next. "Joshua knows," whispered a little thing at the head of her class. "Well, then, if Joshua knows, he may tell," said the teacher. "In the fire," shouted Joshua, with a look of imperturbable self-complacency.

No. 267. Just as the twig is bent, etc., etc.—A little shaver, living in Walcott, Maine, aged only five years, having well considered the subject of earning his bread, went to a farmer and offered his services. He was put to raking hay, and persevered as long as the rest, and went home to his happy mother in the evening, with a silver dollar in his pocket. And where did he get it? some lazy little Jackanapes will ask, I dare say. Go to your mother, child.

No. 268. Them's my Sentiments.—A six-year-old boy was set to work upon what is called a "composition," all about water. He wrote as follows: "Water is good to drink. Water is good to paddle in and swim in, and to skate on when it grows hard in winter. When I was a little wee baby, nurse used to wash me every morning in cold water—ugh! I have heard tell the Injuns only wash themselves once in ten years. I wish I was an Injun."

No. 269. Arithmetic made easy.—"Peter—I say, Peter! what are you doing with that boy?" "Helping him in 'rethmetic, sir." "How helping him?" "He wanted to know if I took ten from seventeen, how many would be left; and so I took ten of his apples to show him, an' now he wants 'em back."

"And why don't you give 'em back, hey?"

"'Cause I want him to remember how many was left."

No. 270. Scripture and Poetry.—While a poor mother was moaning over her wretchedness and helplessness, fearing that she would have to go to the workhouse, her little boy looked up from his pile of blocks in the chimney-corner, and murmured, "Mamma, I think God hears, when we scrape the bottom of the barrel."

No. 271. A glorious Boy.—The playmates of a small boy were trying to persuade him to take a handful or two of cool, ripe cherries, from a tree overhanging the stone-wall, where they were sitting together in the hot sunshine.

"What are you afeard of?" said the largest, "for if your father should find it out, he is so kind, he wouldn't punish you."

"That's the very reason why I wouldn't touch 'em," said the dear little fellow, in reply.

No. 272. Physics and Metaphysics.—An amiable professor, in France, was laboring to explain that theory, according to which the body is entirely renewed every six years, giving for illustration the experiment made with a pig, by feeding it on madder till its bones were colored through and through, and other cases. "And so, mam'selle," said he, addressing a pretty little blonde with a roguish face, "in six years you will be no longer Mademoiselle F——."

"I hope so," murmured Mam'selle F., casting down her eyes, and peering up at him through her long lashes. Evidently she had somewhat misunderstood her teacher.

No. 273. Too good to be true.—A little boy having broken his rocking-horse the very day it was brought home, his mother began scolding him. "Why, mamma," said he, with a mischievous giggle, as if he understood the joke, and meant it, "What's the use of a horse afore he's broke?"

No. 274. True, beyond all question.—Said somebody to a little moppet, as she sat on the door-step playing with her kitten and her doll, "Which do you love best, darling, your kitten or your doll?"

After looking serious for a minute or two, she leaned over and whispered, "I love Kitty best, but please don't tell Dolly."

No. 275. A slight Misapprehension.—Three little negroes were lately baptized by our friend, Mr. C., of the new Protestant Cathedral. After the ceremony was over, one of them whispered to its mother, "You don't mind it, mamma, do you, 'cause he baptized us in his night-gown?"

No. 276. A Natural Curiosity.—A dear little six-year-old was going by a church with her father. "What house is that?" asked the child. "That is the Dutch Church," said papa; "people go there to be good, so that, after a while, they may be angels." "Hi! then there'll be Dutch angels, papa!"

No. 277. Much to the Point.—A sabbath-school teacher had been reading to her class the beautiful story of Ruth—with a running accompaniment. Wishing to call their attention to the kindness of the princely husbandman, in ordering the reapers to drop here and there a handful of wheat, she said, "Now, children, Boaz did another nice thing for poor Ruth: can you tell me what it was?" "To be sure I can," said a little fellow, a long way off;—"he married her."

No. 278. A new Currency.—Our Sallie, a pleasant, active, sprightly little thing, just old enough to make herself understood, partly by pantomime and partly by lisping, came in all of a glow, saying,—

"O mamma! mamma! Me jess buyed a itte paper-doll."

"Indeed! and where did you buy it?"

"O, jess down here, in a defful big store; me toot a ittle dirl in me's hand."

"And where did you get your money to pay for it?"

"O, me didn't buy it for money, mamma—me jess gived the gemman a fower to pay for it."

And sure enough! Upon further inquiry, it turned out that the little midget had entered a large store, made her way into the back part—one of the largest establishments in Brooklyn, by the way—and seeing some paper-dolls in hand, wanted to buy one; but having no money, offered a flower she had just gathered on the way, which the shopman received with all seriousness, regarding it as a lawful tender.

No. 279. A new handle for Pussy.—Little three-year-old Mary was playing roughly with her pet kitten. After pulling its ears, she began carrying it by the tail. "Baby, dear," said her mother, "you hurt pussy." "No I don't, mamma—'cause I'm carryin' it by the handle."

No. 280. A new Puzzle.—A pretty little thing under five, on being questioned by her mother about her Bible lesson, was asked, among other matters, why the Lord wouldn't let Adam and his wife eat of the forbidden fruit; and answered, that she "didn't know for certain, but rather thought, maybe He wanted to can it for his own use."

No. 281. More Logic.—In our Putnam for October, there are two charming little manifestations of boyish character and boyish reasoning. A chap of only five, soon after the fire at Barnum's Museum, which he had investigated, was very anxious to know if there really were any such creatures as devils, "with horns, hoofs, bats'-wings and eagles' claws"—he had just been looking at an illustrated Pilgrim's Progress. Mamma tried to put him off, but in vain. At last, he broke out with, "Well—I don't believe there is any, for Barnum would be sure to have one." And then, after another glance at the illustration, he added, "How funny he would look in a cage, with his horns and tail!"

The same little fellow hid his face in his mother's lap one day, while it thundered. To soothe him, his mother explained the phenomena of thunder and lightning. A lull followed, and he ran off to play in a distant corner of the room. Then followed another burst, louder than usual. Back he ran to his mother, exclaiming, "I don't see what fun 'tis for God to go thunderin' round so!" Of course not.

No. 282. Natural History.—According to Peter Pindar, Sir Joseph Banks' fleas were lobsters till he boiled them, when "d—d a one turned red;" whereat he exclaimed, according to the same authority, who, in his own mortal extremity, if Byron may be credited,—

"Fleas are not lobsters—d—n their souls!"

But another question has lately come up. A little girl, of the Buffalo tribe, wants to know if fleas are white; "cauth untle teld her that Mary had a little lamb with fleas as white as snow."

Another.—A charity scholar—perhaps one of the Ragged School—on being asked, after an examination in the Psalms, "What was the Pestilence that walketh in darkness?" answered,—"Bed bugth, thir!"—Not so much out of the way, after all; since fleas only hop in darkness.

No. 283. Cross-examination.—Says a neighbor, "Wife was undressing a little four-year-old—Charley—the other evening. After he was set free, he began to feel of his fat, chubby arms, with manifest self-complacency; and looking up into his mother's face, he said, 'Mamma, who made me?'"

"'The Good Man away up in the sky,'" said mamma.

"Whereupon Charley grew thoughtful, and after looking up through the tree-tops into the clear blue starlit sky for a few minutes, added, 'But, mamma, who took me down?'"

No. 284. A Broad Hint.—There was an aged country clergyman, who found so little time for study, that when fairly at work, he wouldn't allow his grandchildren to romp in the passage, or play hide-and-seek, or leap-frog in the study—the monster!

"Ma," said one of these little fellows, who had been snubbed for riotous behavior one day, "I say, Ma,"—she had just been telling him about heaven—"I say, Ma, I don't want to go to heaven." "Don't want to go to heaven, Georgie!" "No, Ma, I'm sure I don't." "And why not?" "Why, gran'pa will be there, won't he?" "Why yes—I hope so." "Well—jest as soon as he sees us, he'll come scoldin' along, and say,—'Whew—whew—whew! What are these boys here for?'"

No. 285. Patronage.—"I say, dad—have you been to the Museum yet?" said a young American of ten. "No, my son." "Well, jest you go, and mention my name to the door-keeper, an' he'll take you round and show you everything."

No. 286. Childish Cunning.—"A child who is good at excuses is seldom good for anything else," quoth Franklin. A naughty little chap, says a contemporary, went blubbering into the back-yard, because his mother wouldn't allow him to go down to the river on the Sabbath. On being further remonstrated with, he said, "But, mamma, I didn't want to go in a-swimmin' with 'em; I only wanted to go down an' see the bad little boys drown, for goin' in a-swimmin' on a Sunday—boo-hoo, boo-hoo!"

No. 287. Childish Trust.—The following illustration of the passage, "Whosoever shall not receive the Kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein," will, I am sure, be thankfully received.

As the train stopped, a gentleman who had been seriously engaged in conversation with another, who had a little boy with him, said to the child, after bidding the father farewell—"Good-by, Charley; take care of yourself."

"My father will take care of me," said the boy, with a look of unquestioning trust.

No. 288. What shall we pray for?—A child of seven had been packed to bed quite early for something rather serious. At the usual hour of bed-time, her mother sat down by the bed-side to read prayers for the day. "Mamma," said the little one, "please read the prayer for persons in affliction."

No. 289. A Poser.—"Well then—who took care of the babies?" asked a little girl, on hearing her mother say that all people were once children.

No. 290. Another Poser.—Aunt Bessie had been laboring with Master Jack, to persuade him to go to bed at set of sun; urging for his consideration that the dear little chickens always went to roost at that time. "Yes, auntie—I know that—but then the old hen always goes with 'em!"

No. 291. A reasonable Being.—"Halloa, mamma! halloa there!" shouted the angel of the household, from the top of the garret stairs, "I'm mad as fire—and Hannah won't pacify me."

No. 292. Mind your Pronunciation.—A gentlewoman of Belfast, Ireland, was questioning a child in a charity school, about what the wife of a king, and the wife of an emperor were called; and then she added for their encouragement, "And now what is the wife of a duke called?"—"A drake! a drake!" shouted half a dozen little voices.

No. 293. Foresight, Sagacity, and Thrift.—Little Master Jemmy began to save the change that fell in his way at a very early age, in the hope of being a rich man, like Messrs A., B., and C., who rode in their carriages, or "swung on the gate" all day long, with "a little more fat pork," after their wishes had been granted for "as much fat pork as they could eat."

One morning, at breakfast, when he was about gobbling the last mouthful, his aunt informed him, that during the night a pair of babies had been added to the family, already consisting of three beside Jemmy.

The boy dropped his knife and fork, and sung out,—"Good gracious, Aunt Mary! if father and mother keep on at this rate, there won't be fifty dollars a-piece for us!"

CONTENTS OF PICKINGS AND STEALINGS.

[Transcriber Note: The following are note numbers, not page numbers]

Children's notions of theology, 1, 2, 13, 14, 22, 48, 70, 72, 132, 134, 166, 168, 178, 265, 283.

Children's notions of the Bible, 2, 39, 41, 148, 149, 163, 174, 228.

Children's notions of heaven, 4, 19, 88, 101, 119, 145, 215, 224, 230, 238, 239, 265, 284.

Lessons for teachers, 2, 4, 5, 31, 43, 47, 66.

Children's notions of praying, 6, 11, 37, 42, 98, 118, 155, 161, 163, 166, 187, 254, 288.

Their notions of language, 7, 10, 15, 21, 120, 121, 153, 194, 251.

Their honesty, 2, 8, 12, 17, 78, 115, 119, 122, 125, 137, 195, 243, 257, 271, 274.

Their ideas of another world, 25, 30, 38, 127, 144, 193, 242, 270.

Their instincts, 16, 18, 27, 28, 31, 44, 69, 76, 80, 90, 108, 118, 141, 144, 167, 181, 263.

Their philosophy, 21, 163, 165, 183, 203.

Their politics, 23, 214, 254.

Their Sunday-school exercises, 22, 26, 31, 43, 47, 66, 142, 156, 164, 165, 187, 195, 205, 241, 266, 277, 280, 282.

Their imitation, 28, 85, 105, 146, 176, 181, 192, 204, 212, 219, 222, 232, 240.

Their selfishness, 29, 40, 79, 87, 116, 150, 151, 243, 267.

Their quibbles, 33, 67, 80, 231, 245, 286.

Their misapprehension of words, 2, 35, 112, 120, 121, 160, 223, 252, 264, 276, 282.

Their puzzling questions, 24, 72, 160, 178, 253, 268.

Their cunning, 33, 45, 46, 51, 73, 79, 82, 92, 106, 224, 228, 130, 134, 139, 158, 163, 169, 172, 202, 206, 259, 260, 273, 279, 286.

Their unselfishness, 49, 50.

Their foresight, 52, 90, 102, 188, 208.

Their self-complacency, 54, 71, 77.

Their metaphysics, 1, 72, 74, 96, 162, 170, 261.

Their explanations, 84, 95, 123, 130, 156, 183, 196, 246, 262, 282.

Their adroitness, 85, 89, 99, 103, 105, 122, 124, 125, 147, 152.

Their speculations, 90, 100, 109, 140, 180, 210, 275.

Their business qualities, 91.

Their naturalness, 93, 110, 114, 180, 181, 189, 201, 218, 220, 263, 272, 274, 291.

Their faith, 98, 177, 287.

Their influence, 115, 285.

Their misapplication of words, 1, 48, 148, 162, 225.

Retribution, 128.

Example, 129, 267, 268.

A great mystery, 133, 217.

An etymologist, 136.

Their literalness, 134, 229, 235, 256, 268, 269, 277, 278, 279.

Their definitions, 156, 184, 257, 261, 262.

Their protestantism, 189, 190.

Their smartness, 197. See Cunning, 201, 240, 250, 264, 269, 289.

Their constructiveness, 198.

Yankee notions, 1, 199.

Their pluckiness, 216, 237, 247, 255.

Total depravity, 227.

Where mother is, 230, 287.

Their poetry, 230, 234, 270.

Liberty of Speech, 259, 260.