PLAYING MOTHER—A MONOLOGUE.

Now, dollie, dear, you have been here For a long time, almost a year, And we have played with one another— That you were baby, I was mother. Now let us change about, I pray, And you be mother for to-day. Now you must go to town, you say! Then tell me, ’fore you go away, A lot of things I must not do, And point your finger at me, too, This way: Now don’t climb up on chairs, And don’t go tumblin’ down the stairs; Don’t tease your little sister, dear, And don’t do anything that’s queer. Don’t say “I won’t” to Auntie Bee— What is it you are telling me? You won’t say “Don’t” to me to-day? Well, then, how can I disobey? I wish my truly mother could Make it so easy to be good!

The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they while their companions slept Were toiling upward in the night.