A boy who is seven is too big to do that,
Can't mother nurse her, or give her the cat?
Oh, what a bother! She's calling me still--
"Come and take the baby off my hands, Bill."
"I _must_ get your father's socks finished to-night,
And I can't while the little girl pulls the thread tight;
There--lift him up, play at ball or Peep-bo--
You will help mother then very greatly you know."
Bill waited a moment. Then into his mind
Came a thought,--"Little boy, if you don't feel inclined
To help mother now, when you easily can,
I'm afraid you won't do it when you are a man."
So he brightened his face till the baby smiled too;
Hid himself in the cupboard and called out "Cuckoo."
And on his knee fed her with delicious cream,
And helping mother was not so bad it would seem.
[Illustration]
A FOUR-FOOTED THIEF.
The Paris _Figaro_ says:--"On Friday a
new kind of robber was arrested not
far from a hatter's, and holding a hat between
his teeth. When efforts were made to take
the hat away he stood on the defensive, and
there was a fight, which ended very badly
for the hat. The thief was a dog. His
master, who has not yet been found, had
taught him to bring home goods to him for
sale, and the hatter accuses him of having
carried off no less than six hats within a
week.
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