HER PICTURE.

Such an ill-behaved man she never had seen! When she wanted a picture, pray, what did he mean By hiding his head? And, under her breath, She whispered: “Mamma, is he frightened to death?” She wondered and wondered when would he begin— When, presto! that instant a round, dimpled chin, And a mouth where sweet kisses seemed coming and going, And two merry eyes with their fun overflowing Were caught by the sunlight.—Now see! There she stands With a flower on her breast and her doll in her hands, Her bonny face framed in her fair, waving curls— The sweetest and dearest of dear little girls!