into the country, averting many illnesses saving many lives,
and imparting incalculable happiness. Mrs. JEUNE makes appeal
for pecuniary assistance to enable her to continue this
unquestionably excellent work.]

It is Holiday Time, and all such as can _pay_,
For the Summer-green country are up and away;
But what of the poor pale-faced waifs of the slums?
Oh, the butterfly flits, and the honey-bee hums
O'er the holt and the heather, the hill and the plain,
But they flit and they hum for Town's children in vain;
Unless--ah! _unless_--there is hope in that word!--
Mrs. JEUNE'S kindly plea by the Public is heard.
Heard? Everyone feels 'tis a duty to listen.
The eyes of the children will sparkle and glisten,
In hope of the beauty, at thought of the fun,
For they know their kind champion, and what she has done,
And is ready to do for them all once again,
If folks heed her appeal. Shall she make it in vain?
Three weeks in the country for poor BOB and BESS!
Do you know what _that_ means, wealthy cit? Can you guess,
Dainty lady of fashion, with "dots" of your own,
Bright-eyed and trim-vestured, well-fed and well-grown?
Well, BOBBY'S a cripple, and BESS has a cough,
Which, untended, next winter may "carry her off,"
As her folks in their unrefined diction declare;
They are dying, these children, for food and fresh air,
And their slum is much more like a sewer than a street,
Whilst their food is--not such as your servants would eat;
Were they housed like your horses, or fed like your dogs.