BEADLE’S DIME POPULAR HAND-BOOKS, ONE HUNDRED PAGES 1amo. DIME Book of ETIQUETTE. For Ladies and Gentlemen: being a Guide to True Gentility and Good-Breeding, and a Complete Directory to the Usages and Observances of Society. Including Entrance into Society; on Dress and Ornaments; on Visits, Introductions, ete. ; Evening Parties, Dances, etc.; Games of Cards, Chess, etc. ; on Conversation; on Letter and Note Writing; how to Give and Receive Invitations; on Entertain- ments; on Personal Cleanliness, etc. DIME LETTER-WRITER. And Practical Guide to Composition. Embracing Forms, Models, Suggestions and Rules for the use of all classes on all occasions; also a List of Improper Words and Expressions, together with their correct forms. And also a Complete. Dictionary of Mottoes, Phrases, Idioms, etc. By Louis Lkaranp, M. D. 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Or, How to Keep Honse and Order a Home; How to Dye, Cleanse and Renovate ; How to Cut, Fit and Make Garments; How to Cultivate Plants and Flowers; How to Care for Birds and Household Pets, etc. A Companion to. the Dime Cook and Recipe Books. By Mrs. M. V. Vicror. DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN. And Manual for the Sick Room. With Family Diseases and their Treatment, Hints on Nursing and Rearing, Children’s Complaints, Physiological Facts, Rules of Health, Recipes for preparing well-known Curatives, etc., etc., based upon the au- @hority of Drs, Wazren, Donna, Parker, and others, DIME DRESSMAKER. And Milliner’s Guide. A complete Manual of the art of Cutting, Fitting, aud Mak- ing up the Female Wardrobe, with full direetions for Choice o! hat Hints Neglige Toilet, Traveling Toilet, Evening Dresses, etc., Dictionary of Technical Terms, etc., etc. By Mapame PULLAM. 2” The above books for sale by all newsdealers; or sent, postpaid, to any ad- ress, on receipt of price, ten pet A each, BEADLE AND COMPANY Publishers, 98 William Street. New Yark. BEADLE’S DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER: COMPRISING PROSE AND VERSE FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS, SCHOOL AND HOME RECITATION. NEW YORK: BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 98 WILLIAM ST REET. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by BEADLE AND COMPANY, In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York, A Boy’s Philosophy, - Hoe Out Your Row, - - - The Six-Year-Old’s Protest, - The Suicidal Cat, - : * " A Valediction, - y - Popping Corn, - z “4 = The Editor, - - . . The Same, treated i in rhyme, - The Fairy Shoemaker, - - What was Learned, - - - ites On, << eres eee The Horse, - - - = ss The Snake in the Grass, “ “A Tale of the Tropics, = 3 Bromley’s Speech, - - - The Same (second extract), - The Fisher’s Child, Oi A Shaksperian Scholar, CONTENTS. A Maiden’s Psalm of Life. (Parody), A Mixture, - - - A Plea for Skates, - - - Ppp DOLly a re cian Ah Why ? - - - - Bivetor Something,, -.-- “~*~. - Lay of the Hen-pecked, - - The Outside Dog in the Fight, - Esop’s Fables. Wolf and Lamb, The Same. Lionin Love, - = fheSame. Frogs Asking for a King, fhe Same. Sick Lion, ete [TheSame. Country and Town Mice, Manand Woman. (Colloquy), - Hon otpe tel i Sore at The Lotus. Planter; ----+-- Little Things, a, mete A Baby’s Soliloquy, AO Te Repentance. A Nursery Lesson, A Plea for Eggs, eee Humbug Patriotism, - = after Christmas. (Parody )s Original, » Anon, - = = Original, - - Jolin Quill, - = Original, = « Harper's Magazine, Adapted, - e Adapted, - a Allingham, - Adapted, aera Extract, - + Adapted, ee John G. Saxe, Anon., - - Adapted, - 5 Adapted, . p Theo. Tilton, + Adapted, - * Phebe Cary, + Everybody, - — = Adapted, - Adapted, ae Extract, - = Anon, - Be cha Anon, ~= = Anon., - a Itumorous Version, “ “ “ “ “ “ce “ “ Montgomery, - Anon., gett Theo. Tilton, - — = B. F. Taylor, - Adapted, Beni xh Anon., - - BN Mg 25 feed ee Stickey Stubbs, as - Anon., - 46 _ Short Legs, eis Copmtw cata hrimps’ View of Amusements, - Ilow the Raven Became Black, A Mother’s Work. (Fora girl), - The Same. (Fora boy), - Who Rules? and half horse. I am sure some horses know as much as i some men, for, sometines men know very little indeed ; in fact, boys know more. The horse being an intelligent animal needs intelligent treatment. That's been my experience and i ~ the late celebrated Mr. Rarey confirms my views. a Treat your horse as if he was somebody; give him tbe best of hay; the cleanest of oats; the nicest of bedding and plenty of it; have a man who has got sense enough to do it, groom him until every hair glistens like a diamond ring, and | the long mane ripples like a waterfall, and from nostril down ' over the haunches unto the fetlock, be he bay, black, dun, chestnut, or sorrel, there is nothing wanting. Have him i brought out; put the bucket to his mouth and hear the water | rattle down his throat in great swallows. Give him a gentle patting on the shoulder, call him bya pet name, and thea Me putting your left foot in the stirrup, vault into the saddle. i Now sail ahead. Let him leap and prance, and champ his ‘bit and snort with pride as he careers along the highway. Your blood will tingle; you will feel asif you were flying. if Health will come with every bounce. Let him trot, amble i E and gallop, and his hoofs strike fire; keep a stiff rein; pass 3 every thing on the turnpike, and with the keenest appetite you eyer had, come to supper. There is something wrong in that man’s heart who does not admire the horse, THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS.—John G. Saze. Come, listen awhile to me, my lads, Come, listen to me a spell! Let that terrible drum, For a moment be dumb, THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, For your uncle is going to tell What befell A youth that loved liquor well. A cleyer young man was he, my lads, And with beauty uncommonly blessed, Ere with brandy and wine x He began to decline, And behaved like a person possessed. I protest The temperance plan is the best. One evening he went to the tavern, my lada, He went to the tavern one night, : And drinking too much Rum, brandy, and such, The chap got exceedingly “ tight,” And was quite What our aunt would entitle a “ fright.” The fellow fell into a snooze, my lads— ’Tis a horrible slumber he takes— He trembles with fear, And acts very queer ; My eyes, how he shivers and shakes When he wakes, And raves about great, horrid snakes | "Tis a warning to you and to me, my lads, A particular caution to all— 3 Though no one can see The viper but he— To hear the poor lunatic howl, “ How they crawl All over the floor and the wall!” The next morning he took to his bed, my lads, Next morning he took to his bed, And he never got up To dine or to sup, Though properly physicked and bled; And I read, Next day, the poor fellow was dead. THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. 23 You have heard of the snake in the grass, my lads, Of the viper concealed in the grass; But now you must know Man’s deadliest foe Is a snake of a different class! ¥ Alas ! ' Tis the viper that lurks inthe glass. a A TALE OF THE TROPICS.—Anon, Titti Fal Lay was a lovely maid— * { The white of her eye was like marmalade, Her skin was the blackest of inky blacks, And her lips were as scarlet as sealing-wax. She wore her hair in a fuzz a-top, Like a swab (the nautical term for mop,) " Iler ivory teeth were two gleaming rows, 4 And she carried a skewer in her comely nose, She loved a sailor (did Titti Fal Lay,) . Who had been on that island cast away ; Titti Fal Lay was the child of a king, d But she loved Jack Deadeyes like any thing. She loved Jack Deadeyes ; but—woe is me !— Jack Deadeyes he wasn’t in love with she; For he fondly thought of his lovely Nan, (Who lived at Wapping) did that young man. And so, alas, and alack-a-day ! When an English ship sailed into the bay, (The Lively Betty, a seventy-four,) He took a berth in that man-of-war. Then Titti Fal Lay (her heart was broke,) Wept—but never a word she spoke; But she skewered herself, did the mournful maid, ’ On the native weapon, a sword-fish blade. 1 They buried her under the bo-bo tree, With her favorite kitten along o’ she; And the purple-nosed monkeys sadly rave, And chew their tails o’er the maiden’s grave, Se 24 : THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, BROMLEY’S SPEECH.*—San Francisco Times. (Adapted.) LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND CiILDREN:— I appear before you to apologize for the non-appearance of two gentlemen whose names appear on the programme, and J am requested to make a speech as a substitute for the song they were to sing. Now, T was caleulating to address the children especially upon this occasion, but unfortunately the young Jady who was fo accompany the address on the piano was so overcome by its rehearsal that she has not been out of the house since ; therefore I shall have to deliver the address without the mu- sic, and leave out the most affecting part of it for fear of con- sequences. If there is any one thing I love to do better than another, it is to make speeches to children, because I love them. In fact, I have it from very good authority- that I was once a little boy myself; and although not as good as some little boys, yet the only reason of that was, there were some little boys that were better than I. So you-see how near I came to being one of the best boys there was in the district. [ mention this for your encouragement, Now, children, we want you all to be very good, and love your books and your teachers; you must love your teachers. I love your teachers, because your teachers are the most lova- ble of any teachers that I ever knew. They haye worked very hard to get up a festival, to raise money to put a new floor in the school-house, and to get nice new seats for the little boys’ trowsers—no, nice new trowsers for the little boys’ seats. No, I don’t mean that either; but I am so confused— what I mean is, to get nice new seats to keep the little boys from wearing out their trowsers. Now, they have worked hard to do all this, and sometimes have sat up late at night ; and I have been so sorry that I could not sit up with them and help them; but I couldn’t, because I had to go to bed at eight o’clock or get spanked. Now, I want you all to be good children, and never keep your papa up late, when he wants to be sitting up with your teachers, and help to get up *If spoken bya very little boy, this speech will produce a most amusing effect. It was pronounced by the well-known wit, George I’. Bromley, of anta Cruz, betore a festival. It wil) answer very well for rehearsal upon y occasion: ae THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. 25 8 festival to raise money to get a new floor, and all that sort ; of thing, for the school-house. Now, if what I am saying is “a too deep for you children to understand, you can get your parents to explain it to you in the morning after they have thought about it over night and gone home with the teachers SECOND EXTRACT. Oh! when I was a little boy how TI did love to go to school (Saturday afternoon), and well do I remember my first sum in arithmetic ; and I was very proud of it, for it was some sum I thought. I can see it now as plainly as though it was ii saad hut twenty-five or thirty years ago. I sect it down, and then ‘aq I added it up. It was ought and ought is ought, and ought ay to ought is ought. I cut off the top line, and it proves cor- 7 rectly. Then I took it to the teacher, and I expected he would get me a situation in the corner grocery store, I was so quick at figures. He looked at the sum, and passed back the : slate, and said he, “ You have figured up about. all you will i: ever amount to.” JI didn’t know at the time what he meant, but I was very much affected, and I thanked him, and asked | him if I couldn’t stand up and see who whispered. TIe said Y no; but I might go home and ask my motlier to put a nail in my forehead to hang my hat on—that it was a pity to wear out good hats on such a head. We all loved that teacher— when he moved away. He was very pious, and always open- ed school with prayer, or with a long stick, and we used to think he didn’t care which, for he told us once. that he was bound to have the school open on time if lhe bad to open it with an oyster-knife, he was so prompt. Je used to repeat Scripture for us; but he was very forgetful, and once he tried 4 to tell us about what is said of “ Suffer little children,” but he forgot the rest, so the little children had to suffer. Now I want to show you the importance of improving your tine. I once knew a little boy who Joved to go to school, and loved his books, and he grew up, and he became great and wise, and good; and when he had Jearned all there was in that town, he moved to another town, and then he ‘was made.postmaster ; and? when the only otber two men in a —— 26 THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, the place moved away, he set up a hotel, and he had no op- position. $0 you see you must love your books if you ever want to be postmaster or keep a hotel. I once knew a little boy who played truant and went slid- ~ ing down hill, and the ice broke and he went in swimming ; and what was the consequence? Why, his teacher had the quinsy sore throat and the neuralgia in the head, and couldu’'t sing in the choir next Sunday, and Mr. (substitute the name of some well-known person of the place) had to do all the singing. Now we want you all to love your books and your teach- ers, and grow up to be great and wise and, good; and you will not always live in (name the town); some of you may move way off, perhaps to ——, and go into the flour mill business with Mr. ——, and have your names enrolled on Mr. ——’s books for groceries. And I want you all to re- member what I have said; if you don’t I’m sure I shan’t ; but then Mr. —— and Mrs. —— are here, and they will print it all; and perhaps it will be made into a little book and put into the Sunday-school library, and then when you grow up and get married, and Dr. —— ane Dr. —— and all those other doctors bring little children to your houses, and they go to Sunday-school, and some day bring home the little book, what a proud moment it will be for you when you can stand up and say, “ When that story was told I was there.” And then when you are called upon to make a speech at a school festival, you will know how easy it is to begin but how hard it is to leave off, for I have been trying about five minutes to stop this one of mine, and now I can only do so by abruptly leaving, with many thanks for your kind attention and gene rous applause. Good-night. THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. 27 THE FISHERS CHILD.— Theodore Tilton, I weaye a tale—part old, part new; The half, a fact—the rest, a dream ; Yet many dreams, I think, are true, However strange they seem. So quict was the summer day, That one could hear the far-off bees, Till sudden winds from fields of hay, Blew whistling to the seas. A fisher drew his skiff to land, Half up above the water’s reach, And left it grinding in the sand, Yo strand upon the beach, iii Mics Along the shelving water-edge, Hlis little son played up and down, And gathered stately spears of sedge, To braid them for a crown, But when he spied the rocking craft, He climbed aboard with childish glee, And, shouting to the breezes, laughed, And wished himself at sea. : a The skiff, amid the splash and roar, Was like a warning finger laid Across the lips of sea and shore, To hush the noise they made. A double wave, with sudden swell, Ran up the beach with foam and spray, i And dashed so high that while it fell It launched the craft away ! The fisher’s cherry-trees grew green Between his cottage and the tide; And sadder sight was never seen Than out they branched to hide. On curling waves, the drifting hull Was wafted past the harbor light, And seaward, like a flying gull, Tt dwindled out of sight. THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. At sunset, searching for the child, The fisher called and called his name, But though his cry was loud and wild, No voice in answer came. is 0 Whereat, as with a giant’s hand, t And stung with woe, he seized a boat, And dragged it down the griping sand, And through the surf afloat, His oars gave groans for thrice a league, And down his brawny beard ran sweat, But not a sinew felt fatigue, And hope inspired him yet— Ontil his strength was overspent ; Then over. on his panting breast His hot, bewildered head. he bent, And, swooning, dropped to rest— And dreamed that through a yawning waye, a The child, with sea-grass on his head, Made entrance to a spacious grave, And wandered with the dead— Whence, rising to a beauteous land, The mortal child stood crowned divine; To whom the fisher waved his hand, And sought an answering sign. Then, waking with a sudden start, And shuddering in the chilly dew, He knew, by token in his heart, The vision must be true. And when in grief he home returned, | And sat aweary in his chair, : And low and dim the hearth-fire burned, Ile saw an angel there. ae Oh! pleasantest of pleasant things! ey} That angels dwell in homes on earth, Where silently, with folded wings, They tarry by the hearth. THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER 29 A SHAKSPERIAN SCHOLAR.— Original. LApies AND GENTLEMEN—My theme to-night (or to-day) is Shakspeare—the great Shakspeare, who IT am informeu was once a boy like myself, and therefore why may I not some: time be a man like Shakspeare. I don’t know about being a poet; it don’t pay, so I hear, and I'd rather be a Congress- man if it were only a little more respectable, for I know that pays. But about Shakspeare. What a wonderful mind must his have been. Just to think that one man created such charac- ters as Toodles and Lord Dundreary and Lady of Lyons and the late lamented Yankee Hill! If Shakspeare had lived in this generation, and received a good common-school education like the rest of us, he might have written successfully for the New York Ledger ; but, alas! he was born before the evxist- ence of that great account-book, and Bonner lost a contribu- tor more popular than Sylyanus Cobb. . Shakspeare, it is said by antiquarians, had a mother, and this statement is confirmed by the fact that he once went on a a deer-hunt and got spanked for it, and who would spank hard enough for that but a mother or mother-in-law? So, that point is settled. It is said, too, that he went upon the stage, at an early day, and played Old Man. I think this even more than probable, for it is certain that the stages were running in those. days, and it is equally certain that a boy of Shakspeare’s known talents could get up behind and. thus go on the stage. I’ve done it myself. And as for his playing Old Man, why, that’s nothing. Anybody can do that/ We call the old man, nowadays, the Governor or Old Boy, but in Shakspeare’s time it was customary to call fathers old men and mothers old women. Shakspeare, it is presumed, had his failings, but what they were is not known for a certainly. One thing is certain: he played before Queen Elizabeth and used to get tight along with old Ben Jonson, who, it is supposed, was the father of the great chicken-thief of that name. If Shakspeare really did play before Elizabeth it only shows that he was human. Ive played with a girl of that name, and she thought herself / a s 80 THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER: : / a queen, for she wore a crown made of horse-hair stuck on the back of her head like hay falling out of the upper door of the barn. And as for going to the “Boars Head Inn” with Ben Jonson, that was beastly, but he went to the “ Mer- maid” tavern too; and thut was not so bad, for there, it is supposed, nothing more intoxicating than Catawba coblers and | lager beer was sold. But, the blame for all this attaches to the times rather than to the man. If the Boar’s Head had been called the “Sample Room,” to go there would have been respectable, seeing that gentlemen now frequent the groggeries and think it no harm, since they are mercly sample rooms, “Only this and nothing more,” as the raven said when his likeness to the Imp of Darkness was in question. Shakspeare married Anne Hathaway, which only goes to. prove that woman hath-a-way of taking in even great poets, Whether Ann was a dashing girl of the Menken school, or a woman of the Cady-Stanton school, or one of the can’t be resisteds like the Chicago belle, is not recorded by Sir Fran- cis Bacon in his Philosophy. Our guess is, that she was “an old gal” who pulled so much wool—Shakspeare’s father was a wool-merchant—over the poet’s eyes, that he was compelled to marry her to get the wool out of his eyes again. It is, furthermore, said that the Poet died a seh man. This leads us to regard his whole history as a myth. For, ~ who ever knew of arhymester making money? The very idea is preposterous! Poets go to seed quicker than preach- ers with the bronchitis, or quicker than owners of stock in a dry oil-well. If Shakspeare did die rich, then it is clear as plate-glass that he was no poet—somebody else wrote Shakspeare, and Shakspeare, “ with his temple-like forehead, and his eyes of lustrant gleam,” was a humbug towhom Bar- num’s Woolly Horse was a lamb. My own private opinion is—well, suppose you guess what it is !—(Zvit.) THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, A MAIDEN’S PSALM OF LIFE.—Phebe Cary. TO BE RECITED BY A LITTLE GIRL, Tell me not, in idle jingle, “ Marriage is an empty dream!” For the girl is dead that’s single, And girls are not what they seem. Life is real ! life is earnest ! Single blessedness a fib! : “Man thou art, to man returnest !” Has been spoken of the rib. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Finds us nearer marriage-day ! Life is long, and youth is fleeting, And our hearts, though light and gay, Still, like pleasant drums, are beating Wedding marclics on the way. In the world’s broad field of battle, In the bivouac of life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle, Be a heroine—a wife ; Trust no future, howe’er pleasant, Let the dead past bury its dead! Act—act in the living present! Heart within and hope ahead! Lives of married folks remind us We can live our lives as well, And, departing, leave behind_us Such examples as shall “ tell.” Such examples that another, Wasting time in idle sport, A forlorn, unmarried brother, Seeing such take heart and court, Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart on triumph set ; Still contriving, still pursuing, And each one a husband get! 31 SS 82 THE DIME JUVENILE SPHAKER, A LITTLE MIXTURE.—Zverybody, By the Jake where drooped the willow, Row, vassals, row ; I want to be an angel, And jump Jim Crow. An old crow sat on a hickory limb, None knew him but to praise ; Let ine kiss him for his mother, For he smells of Schweitzer kase. The minstrel to the war has gone, With his banjo on his knee ; He awoke to hear the shrick, There’s a light in the window for thee. A frog he would a-wooing go, lis hair was curled to kill ; Te used to wear an old gray coat, And the sword of Bunker Iiill. Oft in the stilly night, Make way for liberty ! he cried ; I won’t go home till morning, With Peggy by my side. Iam dying, Egypt, dying, Susannah, don’t you ery; Know how sublime a thing it is To brush away the blue-tailed fly. ’ The boy stood on the burning deck, With his baggage checked for Troy; One of the few immortal names, His name was Pat Malloy. Mary had a little lamb, Ife could a tale unfold ; Tle had no teeth to eat a hoe-cake, As his spectacles were gold. Lay on, lay on, Macduff, Man wants but little here below ; And I’m to be queen of May, So kiss me quick and go. 7. THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, 33 A PLEA FOR SKATES.—( Adapted.) Do you own a pair of skates? Wrap yourself warm, start ‘for the pond, sit down on the bank, strap on the skates so that they can not turn, then strike out. Carve all the hiero- glyphics of sport with your heel on the ice. Wheel round now on one foot, now on the other, backward, forward, like a swallow skimming the brook; like a deer chased across the snow by a Laplander; swift as the hare on Marlborough downs; as an antelope over the plain; voices calling, pond resounding, steel skates ringing, hands clapping, hills echo- ing. Sportfulness is a queen who often sits in a palace of ice, With scepter of icicle, and orchestra in which northern blasts sound their horns; and such come nearest her throne who ap- proach with skates, tippet, and sandals of clattering steel. You will have to give up your prejudices and Jet even the ladies skate. Be not among those who believe that God sent woman into the world equipped only for the sublime mission of darning stockings and sewing on shirt-buttons. You have no monopoly of the ice. You must let the lacies skate, just as you must let them do many other things which it is their right to perform and enjoy. Man too long has had a monopoly of this world’s favors, and woman too long has been the creature of circumstances—but, I am getting off my course, Skate when you can! It is glorious sport, good for old and young; good for the body, good for the mind, Blessed be the man who invented skates! PLAYING BALL.—(Adapted.) he ball and bat! What a swarm of sunny associations come with their mention! What moments of thrilling joy, What hours of delight, what episodes of contest and triumph, What grim resolution in defeat! The bat and ball! What dumps or down-heart can withstand their exhilarating in- fluence—what horrors can withstand their “ Hie away !” The bat and ball were invented for man’s. physical good, I 84 THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. and, as what is good for the body is also good for the mind, | they are, therefore, missionaries sent to deat society and men | into a better condition. Not like prize-fighting, where two | human brutes pound two inhuman heads into the semblance of Gog and Magog, but like the precious “ Harp of a thousand strings,” which had but to be struck to bring forth music and joy. From the ball that the boy of four years rolls across the carpet to that which is flung up by the muscular arm of the sportsman, in the sight of five thousand people come out in- the suburbs to see the carnival, there is something bewitching about its bounce and flight. Every Roman villa had its place for this exercise. France had houses built especially for ball- playing. Henry VIL and Maximilian, of olden time, en- gaged in this sport. German professors, weary of making dictionaries, came out to join in it. People who haye spent — fortunes at Saratoga and Sulphur Springs and Baden-Baden, to get away from bodily disease, and came home unbenefited, have found out afterward that their ailments were unable to keep up with them in their swift turns at cricket, and the in- valids, in attempting to catch the bull, have actually taken their lost health “ on the fly.” Health and happiness are nearer our doors than we think. If we do but use the provisions made for our mental and physical good in the way of sports and pastimes, we should not only be a wiser but a greater nation—a nation of strong men—men full of vigor, energy, bravery ! Away to the field, then ! and woe to him who cries “ hold, enough !” AH! WIIY! Why sits that maiden sad and pale Amid the glittering throng ? Why bears her face the marks of pain, While heedless of the song ? Has he whom she so fondly loves Left her young heart forlorn ? “ More poignant are the pangs she feels: She suflers from—a corn. ¢ THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. 85 - LIVE FOR SOMETHING.—Anon, seen 7. Live for something, be not idle— _ Look about thee for employ ! , Sit not down to useless dreaming— Labor is the sweetest joy. oH Folded hands are ever weary, : Selfish hearts are never gay, Life for thee hath many duties— Active be, then, while you may. sett eat nena enced a Scatter blessings in thy pathway ! Gentle words and cheering smiles Better are than gold and silver, With their grief-dispelling wiles. i As the pleasant sunshine falleth Ever on the grateful earth, So let sympathy and kindness Gladden well the darkened hearth. stn teaaanes en sane Hearts there are oppressed and weary ; Drop the tear of sympathy, Whisper words of hope and comfort, Give and thy reward shall be # Joy unto thy soul returning, From this perfect fountain-head, Freely, as thou freely givest, Shall the grateful light be shed. i LAY OF THE HEN-PECKED. ok Oh, her hair is as dark as the midnight wave, And her eyes like the kindling fire, And her voice is as sweet as the spirit’s voice That chords with the seraph’s lyre. But her nails are as sharp as a toasting-fork, And her arms as stout as a bear’s ; She pulled my ear and she gouged my eye, And she kicked me down the stairs, 86 THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. ’ She may shake her knuckles full in my face, And put the lamp to my hair, And hold the broomstick over my head, But I’m not at all in despair. For I've bound her over to keep the peace, And Pye bought me a crab-tree cane ; The policeman will come, and the justice, too, If she meddles with me again. My head was a week in the linen cap, And my eyes a month in the patch; I never thought that the torch of love Would light such a brimstone match. THE OUTSIDE DOG IN THE FIGHT. ~ You may sing of your dog, your bottom dog, Or of any dog that you please, I go for the dog, the wise old dog, That knowingly takes his ease, And, wagging his tail outside the ring— Keeping always his bone in sight— Cares not a pin in his sound old head For either dog in the fight. Not his is the bone they are fighting for, And why should my dog sail in, With nothing to gain but a certain chance Of losing his precious skin ; There may be a few perhaps who fail To see it in quite this light, But when the fur flies I-had rather be The outside dog in the fight. I know there are dogs—injudicious dogs— Who think it is quite the thing To take the part of one of the dogs, And go yelping into the ring ; But I care not a pin what all may say In regard to the wrong or the right, My money goes, as well as my song, For the dog that keeps out of the fight. THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. 87 ESOP’S FABLES.—JLatest Version. [Thesa humorous travesties of the Fables will prove very acceptable to the little folks—being readily committed to memory and easily spoken, Either boys or girls can speak them.] THE WOLF AND THE LAMB. Early one morning a wolf who had been up late, the pre- Yious night, attending a Dutch ball, awaking with the thirst familiar to those who get “set up,” on Rhine wine, got out of bed, and hastily putting on his dressing-gown and slippers, proceeded to a brook, which meandered just back of his boarding-house, for the purpose of cooling his parched tongu-e- Ytum.. He would have preferred Kissengen, but there wasn’t any place open at that early hour where he could obtain it. As he 8 lapping from the brook, mentally considering — Whether « wasn’t about time for him to reform and join a j Temperance Society, ora Fire Company, he spied a little lamb paddling at some distance down the stream. He im- Mediately determined to mash her, and bethought himself how he might justify the deed should he be arrested for it, and arraigned before the mayor. “Villain !” thundered the wolf, imitating an actor he had heard at the National Theater, “ what yer bout ?” “Tam slacking my thirst,” replied the little lamb, meekly. “None of your slack to me,” roared the wolf. “ How dare you muddle the water that I am drinking ?” The wolf's brains were a good deal muddled, or he would have known that water wouldn’t run or even walk up hill, and when the lamb humbly reminded him that it couldn't, he changed his tactics, as the strong can readily do when they determine that the weak and helpless shall be their.meat. “ Be that as it may,” said the wolf, “it was but a year ago that you called me names, whipped a brother of mine and Said my sister was cross-eyed.” ‘ “ Wope to die if I did,” replied the lamb, shaking in. bia Saiters ; “a year ago I wasn’t born.” e “Well,” replied the wolf, “if it wasn’t you it was that gay Old brick, your father, and it’s all in the family.” Then a New idea striking him, he said: “ You are Mary’s little lamb, 4in’t you ?” “ Ye-ye-yes,” said the lamb, stultering with fear. 9 2 38 THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. “T’ve heard of you,” cried the wolf, seizing him by the wool; “ Mary took you to school one day to make something out. of you, but instead of trying to get an education, so that you might be of some use in the world, you threw paper wads on the wall, and made up faces at the schoolma’am for the other scholars to laugh at, thereby taking their attention away from their books. My little boy was there, and he hasn’t atilied any since. Oh! I know you now.” ‘Then he fell to and devoured the lamb without any mint, se that Mary didn’t have no little lamb not no more; though lie would have given her a little lam if she had been there. fe did it, he said, as a terrible example to lambs to improve their time at school, and not distract the attention of the other scholars from their books—the naughty wolf singing at his repast, **Made the children Jaugh and play, Laugh and play, laugh and play; Made the children langh and play— Which was agin the rules.” Moral.—Lambs who have been cutting up. at seliool should use a bathing-tub at home if they want to paddle, unless, on the appearance of a wolf, they are able to “ paddle their own canoe.” THE LION IN LOVE. A lion once fell in love with a woodman’s daughter. Pleased at first with her appearance he at length became quite enamored by her engaging way of doing general house- work. He offered his paw in marriage, but she referred him te the old.man, who spurned the offer, not desiring to have his fumity Monized to that extent. But the lion insisted, threat- ening to make sausage-meat of them all if they didn’t pre- pare at once for the marriage ceremony. (No cards.) The woodman, secing that so formidable an addition to a traveling menagerie could not be denied, pretended to accede to the demand. He really felt fiattered, he said, by the pro- posal, It was an opportunity to turn his premises into a zoological garden that might not occur again in his lifetime. He already imagined that he could hear alot of young whelps THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. 39 Tunning around the yard, snapping at folks and calling him grandpa. It was a pleasing contemplation. “But what great teeth you have got! and what great claws you have got!” said the woodman. ‘“ Where is the damsel that wouldn't be frightened at such weapons as these? You must have your teeth drawn and your claws pared off before you can be a suitable bridegroom for my daughter.” The lion agreed to the conditions, (for love makes jack- asses of lions as wellas men,) when a skillful dentist, who was sent for, extracted his teeth, administering chloroform, and his Claws were pared. by a chiropodist, who, as a remuneration, only desired the claws that he might have them silver-mounted, and placed on exhibition in a velvet-lined case, together with numerous eminent corns and distinguished bunions that he had removed with his patent corn-sheller. Minus teeth and claws the lion called upon the woodman to accept him as a son-in-law. But the woodman, no longer afraid of the tamed and disarmed bully, seized a prostrate Sapling and belabored him soundly. Regardless of is en- treaties— ‘Woodman ! spare that tree,” he didn’t spare it, but wore it up on the beast’s hide, who slunk away into the thicket never again to undertake the task of making & woodman’s daughter play the part of “ Pailean, the lady of tons,” to his Claw’d.” Moral.—This fable teaches the advantages of chloroform in affairs of the heart, and the important part. the chiropo- dist fills in modern civilization. THE FROGS ASKING FOR A KING. In the days of old, the frogs, growing weary of a repub- lican form of government, and tired of electing a President every four years, allowed that’ they would have a king, by Jupiter, so they assembled together one day in the Fifih-street market space, and signed a petilion praying Jupiter to Jet them have one of his kings, who was out of a job, to come and Yeign over them. Jupiter, reading their thoughts easily, as 40. THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. they were printed in long primer, smiled at their request and | hoye a basswood log down into the lake. (Jupiter was sailor enough to eave the log.) The splashing it made created the greatest amazement and terror among the frogs, who in- stantly dove into the mud and remained concealed so long that the price of frogs at the St. Charles restaurant went uf fifty per cent. At length, one frog, bolder than the rest,"ventured to pop his head above the surface, and take a survey of their new king at a respectful distance. . Presently, when they per- ceived the Jog lie stock still, others began to swim up to it, and all around it, til!, by degrees, growing bolder and bolder, they at last leaped uponit, and treated it with the greatest contempt. (As it didn’t bite they weren’t afraid of its bark.) | Dissatisfied with the result of their log-rolling for a Dicta- | tor, they immediately impeached their basswood ruler and pe- titioned Jupiter a second time for another and more active king. Jupiter thereupon sent them a stork, who had acquired a great appetite for frogs during a residence in France, and, im- mediately on his arrival, he fell to devouring them in the most ravenous manner, not even waiting for them to be fried. Then they sent a private message to Jupiter, beseeching him that he would take pity on them once more; they should go % ; stork-mad if he didn’t take away his king. Without desiring i to threaten, they reminded him of the fate which befell Max- ; I jmilian, whom that great frog-eater, Louis Napoleon, sent to | Mexico, and who wouldn't leave when they didn’t want him king any longer. But Jupiter decided that under the tenure- of-office law the stork couldn’t be removed; so the frogshad E to suffer the consequences of their own folly. } i Moral.—Let well enough alone. { re hh} 1 THE SICK LION. I A lion, through age and inflammatory rheumatism, being no . longer able to hunt for his prey (although he could pray for his hunt) laid himself up in his room, and had it published in . . THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. 41 One of the morning papers that he was very ill indeed. He breathed with great difficulty (having caught it from some of the numerous creatures whose breathing he had rendered dif- ficult) and spoke with a very low voice. The report soon Spread among the beasts, who felt very sorry for the sick lion. One after the other came to sce him. One brought him beef- tea, another offered to sit up with him, while others only Called to drink up his whisky, as is frequently the case wher &@ man is laid up in his room, and is known to keep a demi- John of old Bourbon. But the lion catching them alone, and in his own “ den,” as he facetiously called his lodgings, easily Made a prey of them, and grew fat upon his fresh-meat diet. The fox missing so many of the beasts on Fourth street and at the Saturday afternoon matinees, and suspecting the truth of the matter, came at length to make his visit of inquiry, but prudently remained outside while he asked his majesty how he was, anyhow. “Been well ?” whispered the fox, through the keyhole. “Ah, my dearest friend,” said the lion, in a faint voice, bolstering himself upon the pillow, “is it you? I have been 80 hungry to see you. (The fox pulled down one corner of his eyelid with his paw, as much as to say ‘Do you see any thing green”) But why do you remain outside? Come, Sweet friend, and pour some words of consolation in the poor lion’s ear, who will soon be on the way to the cemetery.” “Excuse me if I can’t stay,” said the fox. “It’s allright, no doubt; but I notice all the prints of India rubber over- Shoes are pointing to your den, while none are going away. Pressing business—some other time—au revoir /” Moral.—When you find yourself approaching dangerous ground, hasten to make tracks the other way. THE COUNTRY MOUSE AND THE TOWN MOUSE, Once upon a time a country mouse, who had a friend in lown, invited him, for old acquaintance sake, to pay him a Visit in the country. The invitation was accepted, and one day the city mouse came on the Batuvia buss. He was dressed { ca Re gee! a a _ * 42 THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. in the hight of fashion, with tight pants, a plug hat, and 4 | walking-stick. The country mouse, though plain and rough, | and somewhat frugal in his nature, opened his heart and stor in honor of hospitality and an old friend. He brought. forth | from his larder, peas, barley and some choice varieties of old P cheese rinds that he had laid away against a rainy day, The | town mouse condescended to pick a bit here and there, and | finally lighting his meerschaum, he exclaimed: “ How is ih | my friend, that you can endure this unpolished life? On my honor, youare wasting your time, miserably. . No_ billiards; | no operas, no balls, no music, not even a beer-garden. we , must make the most of life while it lasts. Come with m@ | and I will show you life and the town.” So the county | mouse put on his store-clothes and accompanied bis friend t0 | the city. j It was nearly midnight when they crept stealthily into the great house where the town mouse took up his quarters There was furniture of the most gorgeous description, and on a table the remains of a splendid banquet. ‘ How’s this % | said the town mouse, handing his astonished friend a. bill of & fare; “call for any thing you want and you shall have ita And the country mouse, adjusting his iron-rimmed spectacles on his nosé, was quite confused with the strange dishes that were presented, He was fain to beseech his friend to choos? for him; so the town mouse brought him dish upon dish, ant ¢" dainty upon dainty, until the country mouse thought with con tempt of his poor fare at home—and blessed. the gyod fortun? | that brought him to the city. Of a sudden the doors flew | open anda party of revelers, who had returned from a hall | over the Rhine, burst into the room. The affrighted friends | jumped from the table in great consternation (frightening on? | of the revelers who thought he had “got ’em !”) and hid i® the nearest corner they could reach. j Whenever they attempted to creep out, a black-and-tan dog | would drive them back again, and if they tried to go t0 | sleep, they were constantly awakened -by the loud songs of. if the revelers.. At length, when the party, filled with wine, had | 4 all fallen asleep under the table—except the owner of th@ | black-and-tan, who had gone away with his dog—the countty || mouse stole out from his hiding-place, and bade his frien! > Se Fe eS 5 Le re | THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. 43 £o0d-by, saying: “ This high living may agree with some, but it don’t with me, Giye me barley, bread, anda well or- dered state of society, in preference to dainty fure where fear, Care, and a black-and-tan dog are in waiting, And the country mouse was right, MAN AND WOMAN.—WMontgomery. FOR A LITTLE BOY AND GIRL. First Speaker. Man is the proud and lofty pine, That frowns on many a wave-beat shore; Second. Speaker. Woman, the young and tender vine, Whose curling tendrils round it twine, And deck itsrough bark sweetly. o’er. First Speaker. Man is the rock, whose towering crest Nods o’er the mountain’s barren side ; Second Speakers * Woman, the soft and mossy vest, That loves to clasp its sterile breast, And wreathe its brow with verdant. pride. First Speaker. Man is the cloud of coming storm, Dark as the raven’s murky plume, Second Speaker. Save where the sunbeam, light and warm, Of woman’s soul—of woman’s form, Gleam; brightly through the gathering gloom, First. Speaker. Yes, ’tis to lovely woman given, To soothe our griefs, our woes allay, To heal the heart by misery riven— Change earth into an embryo heayen, And drive life’s fiercest cares away. tp 44 THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, = HOME.— Not J, said strong Ale, I make men tough and hale; I didn’t kill Tom Roper. : Not J, said Lager Beer / I don’t intoxicate. D’ye hear ? (cross) Z didn’t kill Tom Roper. Not J, said Bourbon Whisky, Jf make sick folk spry and frisky ; The doctors say so; don’t they know What quickens blood that runs too slow ? Z didn’t kill Tom Roper. Not J, said sparkling old Champagne, No poor man e’er by me was slain. I cheer the rich in lordly halls, And scorn the place where the drunkard falls; I didn’t kill Tom Roper. * Not we, said various other wines ; What ! juice of grapes, product of vines, Killa man! The Bible tells That wine all other drinks excels; I didn’t kill Tom Roper Nor J, said Holland Gin; To charge such a,crime to me is a sin; I didn’t kill Tom Roper. % THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, Nor J, spoke up the Brandy strong, He grew too poor to buy me long; f didn’t kill Tom Roper ; Not J, said Medford Rum, He was almost gone before I come. a I didn’t kill Tom Roper. Ha, ha! Jaughed old Prince Alcohol, Each struck the blow that made him fall; And all that helped to make him toper My agents were to kill Tom Roper. NOTHING TO DO. I have shot my arrows and spun my top, And bounded my last new ball; 4 , 3 I trundled my hoop ‘till I had to stop, And I swung till I got a fall; I tumbled my books all out of the shelves, And hunted the pictures through, Tve flung them where they may sort themselves, And now—TI have nothing to do. The tower of Babel I built of blocks 5 Came down with a crash to the floor ; My train of cars ran over the rocks, Pll warrant they'll run no more— Tve raced with Grip till Pm out of breath ; My slate is broken in two, So I can’t draw monkeys—I’m tired to death, Because I have nothing to do. The boys haye gone to the pond to fish, They bothered me too, to go; But for fun like that I hadn’t a wish, + For I think it’s mighty “ slow,” 2 To sit all day at the end of a rod, : For the sake of a minnow or two, Or to land, at furthest, an eel on the sod— Id rather have nothing to do! THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, vig Maria has gone to the woods for flowers— And Lucy and Nell are away After berries—I’m sure they’ve been out for hours, I wonder what makes them stay ; Ned wanted to saddle Brunette for me, _ But riding is nothing new ; “JT was thinking you’d relish a canter,” said he, “ Because you had nothing to do.” “f I wish I was poor Jim Foster’s son, : For he seems so happy and gay, { When his wood is chopped, and his work all done, a With his little half-hour of play; js | He neither has books, nor top, nor ball, Yet he’s singing the whole day through ; But then—he is never tired at all, Because he has nothing to do. t HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.—Josh Billings. [Of the la!ter-day wits of the dad spelling school, Josh Billings certainly is the most original if not the most comical. But effusions which depend q upon their outrageous orthography for much of their effect are not par- » ticularly available as pieces for recitation, and therefore we have in our “Speakers” used them sparingly. The following by Josh Billings is a very vood illustration of the anthor’s shrewdness, and may be repeated— the student trying to pronounce the words exactly as they are spelled.] “ Honesta is the Best Polisy.” The author oy this proverb waz cither a very shrude man, or he acksidentily spoke what he didn’t think. Honesta iz, in mi opinion, a mere matter of polisy. Man iz, waz, and alwus will be, a dishonest kritter by natur’. It iz az nat’ral for him tew steal when he wants tew, az it iz tew blo’ his noze. In order to get sosiety into decent shape, so that the ma- sheen could be run without a continual bust, it was absolutely necessary that man should make himself honest. If what hadn’t have bin did it wouldn’t have been safe tew leave a saw-mill out-doors after dark. - _ Hence honesta bekum a matter ov polisy, and it works we 18 THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. ’ The fear ov the law here, and the Jaw hereafter, haz fur- nished us sum very clever specimens ov Christianity. Serpose thare waz no law ag’in’ two wives, how menny men iz thare in yure naberhood that wouldn’t sustain thé law? i I have thought that awl the virtues, and all the affekshuns, en except the few which are instinkts, and which we and the i dogs have just about alike, are mere opperashuns ov polisy. Ov course the virtews improve by hoeing, and mankind haz bekum better just az they have bekum richer, by keeping : their munny-and morals at ten per cent. interest. = fy Menny folks are down on luxurys, and plum puddin’, but na . I ain’t; the more puddin’ folks have, the more they will de- i velop. 7 Stop the hanker in human natur for enny, more plum y puddin’, and nu bonnets, and in about four hundred and fifty \ years men and wimmin would awl go tew grass, as Nebud- cudnesser did. | BL Once more, honesta and virtew, in the lump, are not nat’ral, | but matters ov polisy; I may be wrong about this, but if I \f am, ennyboddy else kan git wrong the, same way L have, by an asking himself about his own human natur’. i s J i. HEAVEN. f 1a What is Heaven ?—not a steep, * 4 Frowning o’er the sands of time, i Guarded like a castle’s keep, } Which the strong can only climb ; ’Tis an ever-present bliss In the soul, by God refined ; j Tis that better world in this, Which the pure in spirit find. { Where is Heaven? Wheresoe’er Lives a pure and loving heart; Love is all the atmosphere, Where the Holy dwell apart; i Es Men and angels mingle there, | iF Whether earth he passed or not— Heaven is here and everywhere, | Tf the evil he forgot. az fure menny é law? ‘shuns, id the lisy, kind eping , but | de- lum fifty ud- ral, ie | by THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, 79 HO, FOR THE FIELDS !—Anon. Chasing over meadows, Catching butterflies, Whisking over hill-tops With our sportive cries ; Climbing up the apple tree, Nipping off the fruit ; Dodging in the grapery Afier its sweet.‘‘ loot;” ; Oh, isn’t it a jolly life, To bea country boy, Finding in each passing day New-discovered joy ! I would give a city’s month Fora country’s day ; I would not be a prisoner To brick and stone alway. Out with doctor’s stuif and pills! Ho, for fields and hills! We'll find in trees and brooks and flowers, A cure for all life’s ills. FASHION.ON THE BRAIN. It seems to me the women now Dress up most awful queer, In narrow skirts and little hoops— How funny they appear ; Their hair they friz in fancy shapes, Vye laughed and laughed again, To see how queer the women look With chignon on. the brain. Last night I met.a little miss Rigged out in wondrous style, She had a little bonnet on That really made me smile; 80 THE DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER. "Twas smaller than a cabbage leaf Dried up for want of rain; How very queer the women look With bonnets on the brain, They say they wear their dresses short To show their pretty feet, But if their shoes are No, 7s, Extremes will never meet ; And when they wear their dresses long, ‘And dragging ina train, T always think of bean-poles with Gored dresses on the brain. Oh, well, this is a curious world, False teeth, false calves, and oh, They speak of palpitators, but - The truth I do not know. But let them wear whate’er they will, Remonstrance is in vain, And they are really charming with, The fashion on the brain, ON SHANGHAIS.—Josh Billings. The shanghai reuster is a’ gentile, and speaks in a forin tung. He is bilt on piles, like our Sandy Hill crane. If he had been built with legs, he wud recemble the Peruvian lama. He is not a game animal, but quite’ often comes off second best in a ruff and tumble fite ; like the Injins that can’t stand civilization, and .are. fast: disappearing. Tha roost on the ground similar tew the mud-turkle. Tha often go to sleep standing, and sumtimes pitch over, and when tha do tha enter the ground like a pick-ax. There feed consists ov corn in the ear. Tha crow like a jackass troubled with bronkeesucks. Tia will eat as much to onst as a district skulemaster, and generally sit down right oph tew keep from tipping over. Tha are dreadful unhandy tew kook; you have tew bile one end | kittlhe ue iz si jiries stan stan pitt wii the eau to sw yo fo1 bu bo os a. ao