If one of them happens to have something nice,
Directly she offers her sister a slice;
And not like to some greedy children I've known,
Who would go in a corner to eat it alone.

When papa or mamma had a thing to be clone,
These good little girls would immediately run;
And not stand disputing to which it belonged,
And grumble and fret and declare they were wronged.

Whatever occurred in their work or their play,
They were willing to yield and give up their own way;
Then let us all try their example to mind,
And always, like them, be obliging and kind.






"WHAT IS THAT, MOTHER?"

"What is that, mother?"
"The lyre-bird, my child--
The morn has just looked out and smiled,

[Illustration]

When he starts from his humble grassy nest,
And is up and away with the day on his breast,