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´╗┐Title: The Daisy, or, Cautionary Stories in Verse. - Adapted to the Ideas of Children from Four to Eight Years Old.
Author: Turner, Elizabeth
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Daisy, or, Cautionary Stories in Verse. - Adapted to the Ideas of Children from Four to Eight Years Old." ***

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  _Four to Eight Years Old._







    _Pretty Puss._

    Come pretty Cat!
       Come here to me!
    I want to pat
      You on my knee.

    Go, naughty Tray!
      By barking thus
    You'll drive away
      My pretty Puss.



    _The Fairing._

    O Dear! what a beautiful Doll
      My sister has bought at the fair!
    She says I must call it "Miss Poll,"
      And make it a bonnet to wear.

    O, pretty new Doll! it looks fine;
      Its cheeks are all covered with red
    But, pray, will it always be mine?
      And, pray, may I take it to bed?

    How kind was my sister to buy
      This Dolly with hair that will curl
    Perhaps if you want to know why,
      She'll tell you, I've been a good girl.



    _The good Boy._

    When Philip's good mamma was ill,
    The servant begg'd he would be still,
    Because the doctor and the nurse
    Had said, that noise would make her worse.

    At night, when Philip went to bed,
    He kiss'd mamma, and whisp'ring said,
    "My dear mamma, I never will
    Make any noise when you are ill."



    _Frances and Henry._

    Sister Frances is sad,
      Because Henry is ill;
    And she lets the dear lad
      Do whatever he will.

    Left her own little chair,
      And got up in a minute,
    When she heard him declare
      That he wish'd to sit in it.

    Now, from this we can tell,
      He will never more tease her;
    But, when he is well,
      He will study to please her.



    _The giddy Girl._

    Miss Helen was always too giddy to heed
      What her mother had told her to shun;
    For frequently, over the street in full speed,
      She would cross where the carriages run.

    And out she would go, to a very deep well,
      To look at the water below;
    How naughty! to run to a dangerous well,
      Where her mother forbade her to go!

    One morning, intending to take but a peep,
      Her foot slipt away from the ground;
    Unhappy misfortune! the water was deep
      And giddy Miss Helen was drown'd.



    _The good Scholar._

    Joseph West had been told,
      That if, when he grew old,
    He had not learnt rightly to spell,
      Though his writing were good,
      'Twould not be understood,
    And Joe said, "I will learn my task well."

      And he made it a rule
      To be silent at school,
    And what do you think came to pass?
      Why, he learnt it so fast,
      That, from being the last,
    He soon was the first in the class.



    _Dressed or undressed._

    When children are naughty, and will not be drest,
      Pray, what do you think is the way?
    Why, often I really believe it is best
      To keep them in night-clothes all day!

    But then they can have no good breakfast to eat,
      Nor walk with their mother and aunt;
    At dinner they'll have neither pudding nor meat,
      Nor any thing else that they want.

    Then who would be naughty and sit all the day
      In night-clothes unfit to be seen!
    And pray who would lose all their pudding and play
      For not being dress'd neat and clean?



    _Miss Peggy._

    As Peggy was crying aloud for a cake.
      Which her mother had said she should fetch from the wake,
    A gentleman knock'd at the door;
    He entered the parlour, and show'd much surprise,
    That it really was Peggy who made all the noise,
      For he never had heard her before.

    Miss Peggy, asham'd, and to hide her disgrace,
    Took hold of her frock, and quite covered her face,
      For she knew she was naughty just then;
    And, instantly wiping the tears from her eyes,
    She promis'd her mother to make no more noise,
      And kiss'd her again and again.



    _The Idle Boy._

    Get up, little boy! you are sleeping too long,
      Your brother is dress'd, he is singing a song,
        And Tom must be waken'd, O fie

    Come, open the curtains, and let in the light,
    For children should only be sleepy at night,
        When stars may be seen in the sky.



    _Playful Pompey._

    Come hither, little dog, to play,
    And do not go so far away,
      But stand and beg for food;
    And if your tail I chance to touch,
    You must not snarl so very much,
      Pray, Pompey, be not rude.

    The dog can eat, and drink, and sleep,
    And help to fetch the cows and sheep:
      O, see how Pompey begs;
    Hark! hark! he says, bow wow! bow wow!
    But run away, good Pompey, now,
      You'll tire your little legs.




    Good little boys should never say
      "I will," and "Give me these;"
    O, no! that never is the way,
      But, "Mother, if you please."

    And, "If you please," to sister Ann,
      Good boys to say are ready;
    And, "Yes, Sir," to a gentleman,
      And "Yes, Ma'am," to a lady.



    _Come when you are called._

    Where's Susan, and Kitty, and Jane?
      Where's Billy, and Sammy, and Jack?
    O! there they are, down in the lane,
      Go, Betty, and bring them all back.

    But Billy is rude and won't come,
      And Sammy is running too fast;
    Come, dear little children, come home,
      Oh Billy is coming at last.

    I'm glad he remembers what's right,
      For though he likes sliding on ice,
    He should not be long out of sight,
      And never want sending for twice.



    _The New Dolls._

        Miss Jenny and Polly
        Had each a new Dolly,
    With rosy-red cheeks and blue eyes;
        Dress'd in ribbons and gauze:
        And they quarrel'd because
    The dolls were not both of a size!

        O silly Miss Jenny!
        To be such a ninny,
    To quarrel and make such a noise!
        For the very same day
        Their mamma sent away
    Their dolls with red cheeks and blue eyes.



    _Naughty Sam._

    Tom and Charles once took a walk,
        To see a pretty lamb;
    And as they went, began to talk
        Of little naughty Sam,
    Who beat his younger brother, Bill,
        And threw him in the dirt;
    And when his poor mamma was ill,
        He teased her for a squirt.

    And "I," said Tom, "wont play with Sam,
        Although he has a top;"
    But here the pretty little lamb
        To talking put a stop.



    _The dizzy Girl._

    As Frances was playing, and turning around,
        Her head grew so giddy, she fell to the ground;
        'Twas well that she was not much hurt:
    But O, what a pity! her frock was so soil'd!
    That had you beheld the unfortunate child,
        You had seen her all covered with dirt.

    Her mother was sorry, and said, "Do not cry,
    And Mary shall wash you, and make you quite dry,
        If you'll promise to turn round no more."
    "What, not in the parlour?" the little girl said,
    "No, not in the parlour; for lately I read
        Of a girl who was hurt with the door.

    "She was playing and turning, until her poor head
    Fell against the hard door, and it very much bled,
        And I heard Dr. Camomile tell,
    That he put on a plaister, and covered it up,
    Then he gave her some tea, that was bitter to sup,
        Or perhaps it had never been well."




    Do you see that old beggar who stands at the door?
    Do not send him away,--we must pity the poor;
    Oh! see how he shivers!--he's hungry and cold!
    For people can't work when they grow very old.

    Go, set near the fire a table and seat;
    And Betty shall bring him some bread and some meat.
    I hope my dear children will always be kind
    Whenever they meet with the aged or blind.



    _Careless Maria._

    Maria was a careless child,
        And griev'd her friends by this:
          Where'er she went,
          Her clothes were rent,
    Her hat and bonnet spoil'd,
                   A careless little miss.

    Her gloves and mits were often lost,
      Her tippet sadly soil'd;
        You might have seen
        Where she had been,
    For toys all round were toss'd,
                   O, what a careless child.

    One day her uncle bought a toy,
      That round and round would twirl,
          But when he found
          The litter'd ground,
    He said, "I don't tee-totums buy
                   For such a careless girl."



    _Frighted by a Cow._

    A very young lady,
      With Susan the maid,
    Who carried the baby,
      Were one day afraid.

    They saw a Cow feeding,
      Quite harmless and still;
    Yet scream'd without heeding
      The man at the Mill,

    Who, seeing the flutter,
      Said, "Cows do no harm;
    But give you good butter
      And milk from the farm."



    _Miss Sophia._

    Miss Sophy, one fine sunny day,
    Left her work and ran away;
    When soon she reach'd the garden gate,
    Which finding barr'd, she would not wait,
    But tried to climb and scramble o'er
    A gate as high as any door!

    But little girls should never climb,
    And Sophy wont another time,
    For, when upon the highest rail,
    Her frock was caught upon a nail.
    She lost her hold, and, sad to tell,
    Was hurt and bruis'd--for down she fell!



    _The New Penny._

          Miss Ann saw a Man,
          Quite poor, at a door,
    And Ann had a pretty new penny;
          Now this the kind Miss
          Threw pat in his hat,
    Although she was left without any.

          She meant, as she went,
          To stop at a shop,
    Where cakes she had seen a great many;
          And buy a fruit-pie,
          Or take home a cake,
    By spending her pretty new penny.

          But well I can tell,
          When Ann gave the man
    Her money, she wish'd not for any:
          He said, "I've no bread,"
          She heard, and preferr'd
    To give him her pretty new penny.



    _The Canary._

    Mary had a little bird,
      With feathers bright and yellow,
    Slender legs,--upon my word,
      He was a pretty fellow!

    Sweetest notes he always sung,
      Which much delighted Mary;
    Often where his cage was hung,
      She sat to hear Canary.

    Crumbs of bread and dainty seeds
      She carried to him daily,
    Seeking for the early weeds,
      She deck'd his palace gaily.

    This, my little readers, learn,
      And ever practice duly;
    Songs and smiles of love return
      To friends who love you truly.



    _Lucy and Dicky._

    Miss Lucy was a charming child,
      She never said, "I wont!"
    If little Dick her playthings spoil'd,
      She said, "Pray, Dicky don't."

    He took her waxen doll one day,
      And bang'd it round and round,
    Then tore its legs and arms away,
      And threw them on the ground.

    His good Mamma was angry quite,
      And Lucy's tears ran down;
    But Dick went supperless that night,
      And since has better grown.



    _Falsehood Corrected._

    When Jacky drown'd our poor cat Tib,
      He told a very naughty fib;
    And said he had not drown'd her;
    But truth is always soon found out;
    No one but Jack had been about
      The place where Thomas found her.

      And Thomas saw him with the cat,
      (Though Jacky did not know of that)
        And told papa the trick;
      He saw him take a slender string,
      And round poor pussy's neck then swing
        A very heavy brick.

      His parents being very sad
      To find they had a boy so bad,
        To say what was not true;
      Determin'd to correct him then,
      And never was he known again,
        Such naughty things to do.



    _Going to Bed._

    The babe was in the cradle laid,
      And Tom had said his prayers;
    When Frances told the nursery maid
      She would not go up stairs,

    She cried so loud her mother came
      To ask the reason why;
    And said, "O Frances, fie for shame!
      O fie! O fie! O fie!"

    But Frances was more naughty still,
      And Betty sadly nipp'd;
    Until her mother said, "I will,
      I must have Frances whipp'd."

    For, O how naughty 'tis to cry,
      But worse, much worse to fight!
    Instead of running readily,
      And calling out good night.



    _The Fan._

    Maria's aunt, who liv'd in town,
      Once wrote a letter to her niece;
    And sent, wrapp'd up, a new half-crown,
      Besides a pretty pocket-piece.

    Maria jump'd with joy, and ran
      To tell her sister the good news;
    She said, "I mean to buy a fan,
      Come, come along with me to chuse."

    They quickly tied their hats, and talk'd
      Of yellow, lilac, pink, and green;
    But far the sisters had not walk'd
      Before the saddest sight was seen!

    Upon the ground a poor lame man,
      Helpless and old, had tumbled down!
    She thought no more about the fan,
      But gave to him her new half-crown.



    Miss Kitty was rude at the table one day,
      And would not sit still on her seat;
    Regardless of all that her mother could say,
    From her chair little Kitty kept running away,
      All the time they were eating the meat.

    As soon as she saw that the beef was remov'd,
      She ran to her chair in great haste;
    But her mother such giddy behaviour reprov'd,
    By sending away the sweet pudding she lov'd,
      Without giving Kitty one taste.


    _The Chimney Sweeper._

    Sweep, sweep! sweep, sweep! cries little Jack,
    With brush and bag upon his back,
      And black from head to foot;
    While daily as he goes along,
    Sweep, sweep! sweep, sweep! is all his song
      Beneath his load of soot.

    But then he was not always black:
    O no; he once was pretty Jack,
      And had a kind papa:
    But, silly child! he ran to play,
    Too far from home, a long, long way,
      And did not ask mamma.

    So he was lost, and now must creep
    Up chimneys, crying Sweep! sweep! sweep!



    _The Rose._

    "Dear Mother," said a little boy,
      "This rose is sweet and red;
    Then tell me, pray, the reason why
      I heard you call it dead?

    "I did not think it was alive,
      I never heard it talk,
    Nor did I ever see it strive,
      To run about or walk!"

    "My dearest boy," the mother said,
      "This rose grew on a tree:
    But now its leaves begin to fade,
      And all fall off, you see.

    "Before, when growing on the bough,
      So beautiful and red,
    We say it liv'd; but, with'ring now,
      We say the rose is dead."



    _Poisonous Fruit._

    As Tommy and his sister Jane
    Were walking down a shady lane,
    They saw some berries, bright and red,
    That hung around and over head;
    And soon the bough they bended down,
    To make the scarlet fruit their own;
    And part they ate, and part, in play,
    They threw about, and flung away.

    But long they had not been at home
    Before poor Jane and little Tom
    Were taken, sick and ill, to bed,
    And since, I've heard, they both are dead.

    Alas! had Tommy understood
    That fruit in lanes is seldom good,
    He might have walk'd with little Jane
    Again along the shady lane.



    _Dangerous Sport._

    Poor Peter was burnt by the poker one day,
      When he made it look pretty and red!
    For the beautiful sparks made him think it fine play,
      To lift it as high as his head.

    But, somehow it happen'd, his finger and thumb
      Were terribly scorch'd by the heat;
    And he scream'd out aloud for his mother to come,
      And stamp'd on the floor with his feet!

    Now if Peter had minded his mother's command,
      His fingers would not have been sore;
    And he promis'd again, as she bound up his hand,
      To play with hot pokers no more.



    _The Stranger._

    Who knocks so loudly at the gate?
    The night is dark, the hour is late,
      And rain comes pelting down!
    O, 'tis a stranger gone astray!
    That calls to ask the nearest way
      To yonder little town.

    Why, tis a long and dreary mile
    For one o'ercome with cold and toil;
      Go to him, Charles, and say,
    "Good stranger! here repose to-night,
    And with the morning's earliest light,
      We'll guide you on your way."




    O Lord! my infant voice I raise,
      Thy holy name to bless!
    In daily songs of thanks and praise,
      For mercies numberless.

    For parents, who have taught me right,
      That thou art good and true;
    And though unseen by my weak sight,
      Thou seest all I do.

    Let all my thoughts and actions rise
      From innocence and truth;
    And thou, O Lord! wilt not despise
      The prayer of early youth.

    As through thy power I live and move,
      And say, "Thy will be done;"
    O keep, in mercy and in love,
      The work thou hast begun.



The little books printed about a hundred years ago "for the amusement
of little masters and misses" must now be looked for in the cabinets
of the curious. The type is quaint, the illustrations quainter and the
grayish tinted paper abounds in obtrusive specks of embedded dirt. For
the covers, gaudy Dutch gilt paper was used, or paper with patchy blobs
of startlingly contrasted colours laid on with a brush by young people.
The text, always amusing, is of course redolent of earlier days.


  The Leadenhall Prefs, Ltd: 50, Leadenhall Street, E.C.
  _Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co., Ltd:_

  _New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 153-157 Fifth Avenue._

 Ideas of Children from Four to Eight Years Old. 1807.

Re-prints of this laughter-laden little book, written by Mrs.
ELIZABETH TURNER, followed each other right up to about 1850:
in the illustrated edition before the reader, nothing is omitted and
nothing is added.

With a view to greater profit, the publisher discarded the pretty
copperplates which adorned the first edition (now a thing of price)
substituting roughly cut wooden blocks.

 author of that much-admired little work, entitled THE DAISY.

Under this title in 1811 Mrs. Turner wrote some more Cautionary Stories
which became almost as popular as _The Daisy_. She also wrote other
books of poetry for children, including _The Crocus_, _The Pink_, and
_Short Poems_; but none had the charm or vogue of _The Daisy_ and _The


This covetable little book, published by F(rancis) Newbery, Jun. and
T(homas) Carnan, the son and stepson of John Newbery, had been issued
by their father at least twenty years earlier than the date on the
title-page. The opening note concerning Francis, the nephew of John
Newbery, relates to family differences which need not here be referred
to. There would seem to be no copyright in riddles, at any rate one
finds the same hoary-heads in other collections.

The destructive fingers of little riddle-readers have been the means of
causing thousands of copies of this amusing book to disappear, and to
obtain an original copy is now almost impossible. The quaintness of the
wood-cut pictorial answers should appeal to the modern reader.

  _It is intended to continue this Illustrated Shilling Series of_



 and introduced to the Reader by ANDREW W. TUER, F.S.A. Four
 hundred illustrations; five hundred pages, handsomely bound, top
 edge gilt, silk book-marker. LONDON: The Leadenhall Press, Ltd: 50,
 Leadenhall-street, E.C. [Six Shillings.

One hundred large paper copies at a Guinea, net.


 introduced to the Reader by ANDREW W. TUER, F.S.A. Adorned with 250
 amusing cuts. Nearly 500 pages: handsomely and attractively bound.
 LONDON: The Leadenhall Press, Ltd: 50, Leadenhall-street, E.C. [Six



Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's
original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.

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