Now on the chair-back, now on the table, It's patting the little dog's ears, and leaping Then off and away, like a flash of light, Kitten, Kitten, come sit on my knee, The sly swift shadows sweep over the sun; And Kitten, oh! the rain and the wind! KITTEN GOSSIP. (The kitten stared with her great green eyes, And twitched her tail in a queer surprise,) MICE!! No more tit-bits, dainty and nice; (The kitten's heart beat with great pit-pats, The scorn of dogs, but the terror of cats; But, Kitten, I see you've a stoutish heart, And strengthen your claws, 213 And sharpen your teeth, and stretch out your jaws,— Then woe to the tribes of pickers and stealers, Nibblers, and gnawers, and evil dealers! But now that you know that life's not precisely Out at the window, and in at the door; BE KIND. Be kind to thy father-for when thou wert young, He caught the first accents that fell from thy tongue, Be kind to thy father, for now he is old, His locks intermingled with gray; His footsteps are feeble, once fearless and bold,- Be kind to thy mother-for lo! on her brow Oh well may'st thou cherish and comfort her now, Remember thy mother-for thee will she pray, With accents of kindness then cheer her lone way, FOOR LITTLE JIM. 215 Be kind to thy brother-his heart will have dearth, Be kind to thy brother-wherever you are, An ornament purer and richer by far, Be kind to thy sister-not many may know The wealth of the ocean lies fathoms below Thy kindness shall bring to thee many sweet hours, Affection shall weave thee a garland of flowers, POOR LITTLE JIM. THE cottage was a thatched one, the outside old and mean, But all within that little cot was wondrous neat and clean; The night was dark and stormy, the wind was howling wild, As a patient mother sat beside the death-bed of her child: A little worn-out creature, his once bright eyes grown dim. It was a collier's wife and child, they called him little Jim; And oh! to see the briny tears fast hurrying down her cheek, As she offered up the prayer, in thought, she was afraid to speak, Lest she might waken one she loved far better than her life; For she had all a mother's heart, had that poor collier's wife. With hands uplifted, see, she kneels beside the sufferer's bed, And prays that He would spare her boy, and take herself instead. She gets her answer from the child: soft fall the words from him, "Mother, the angels do so smile, and beckon little Jim. I have no pain, dear mother, now, but oh! I am so dry, Just moisten poor Jim's lips again, and, mother, do n't you cry." With gentle, trembling haste she held the liquid to his lip; He smiled to thank her, as he took each little, tiny sip. |