MOTHER TRUTH'S MELODIES. COMMON SENSE FOR CHILDREN.

A KINDERGARTEN, BY MRS. E. P. MILLER, AUTHOR OF "A FATHER'S ADVICE; A BOOK FOR EVERY BOY." AND "A MOTHER'S ADVICE; A BOOK FOR EVERY GIRL." 450 ILLUSTRATIONS. NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION. CHICAGO: CRAM STANDARD BOOK CO., BOSTON, MASS., J. Q. ADAMS & Co 1896. COPYRIGHTED 1887, BY STANDARD PUBLISHING COMPANY. COPYRIGHTED BY STANDARD COLUMBIAN COMPANY, 1891, 1892. COPYRIGHTED BY CRAM STANDARD BOOK COMPANY 1894 COPYRIGHTED BY GEORGE F. CRAM, 1895

To all who love the Children, This book, INSCRIBED, I bring,— Thus reaching forth to draw you Within my charmed ring, Where seeds and germs we'll nurture In babies, children, youth, Till every plant shall blossom, And bear the fruits of TRUTH.

INTRODUCTION.

Since little ones are geese no more, But knowing have become, It ill beseems that "Mother Goose" Should dwell in every home. So "Mother Truth" in "Melodies" For Babes, here lifts her voice, Assured that parents, children, all, Will welcome and rejoice.

NOTE.

Let no one suppose that the Author of these "Melodies" considers them poetry. They are simply rhymes, the jingle of which may be music in the children's ears, and the illustrations a delight to eager eyes. The Truths presented, even if not fully understood at first, will leave their impress, and in so far as they fill the little minds, will keep out falsehood and false ideas.

The putting of facts in such form as to attract the attention of the little ones, and be readily fixed in their memory, was first suggested to the writer of these rhymes by a valued friend, the well known philanthropist, MRS. ELIZABETH THOMPSON, and her interest in the "Melodies" is such that she has generously assisted in procuring illustrations for the same.

Thus "Mother Truth's Melodies" are introduced with the hope that this effort to entertain children with rhyming reason will meet with the approval of every lover of the young, and of Truth.

Poetry is the language of the imagination, while "facts are stubborn things," and, in the mass, refuse utterly to be poetized. Yet, even facts may be presented pleasingly and melodiously, and in such way that they will be easily impressed upon the minds of children. This the author of "Mother Truth's Melodies" sought to do, when the little book was first given to the public.

Now, however, in the revising and enlarging of the book, she has given wider play to the imagination, has enlarged the range of subjects, has embodied lessons for children of older growth, and feels that altogether, it will meet more fully the demands which its already large sales warrant her in believing to exist.

She can ask no more favorable reception than was first met; but, hoping for a continuance of the same, she trusts that as it becomes more widely distributed, its truths and teachings will be impressed upon household after household, till throughout the land, the little ones, and larger, too, shall be influenced thereby.

MRS. E. P. M.

CONTENTS

MOTHER TRUTH'S MELODIES.

WHY FLY AWAY, MOTHER GOOSE?

"MOTHER GOOSE, Mother Goose, Why fly away?" "Because Mother Truth is A-coming to-day. She'll tell you funny things, But they'll be true; She'll bring you pictures So charming and new; She'll sing you Melodies, helping to show How, to true women and men, you may grow."

TOSS THE BABY.

Toss the baby high in air; Catch him though, with special care Lest his little back be strained, Lest his little joints be sprained, Lest his bones be bent or broken; Lest through life he bear some token Of a careless toss or fall, That for sympathy shall call, And that must forever be Painful to our memory.

PAT-A-CAKE, PAT-A-CAKE.

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, Mamma's boy, Laughing and crowing, And jumping with joy; Roll it, and pick it and mark it with B, And toss in the oven for Baby and me. Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, Papa's girl, Springing in baby-glee, Shaking her curl; Roll it and pick it and mark it with G, And toss in the oven for Girly and me.

HEY, MY KITTEN, MY KITTEN.

Hey, my kitten, my kitten, Hey, my kitten, my deary; If Mamma should feed him too often, He never could be so cheery. Here we go up, up, up. And here we go down, down, down-y. If we never feed baby too much, He never will give us a frown-y. Hey, my kitten, my kitten, Hey, my kitten, my deary; We'll put him to bed with the birdies, And that will make him so cheery! Here we go up, up, up, And here we go down, down, down-y; If we give him nothing but smiles, He will give us never a frown-y.

WINKUM, WINKUM.

Winkum, winkum, shut your eye, Sweet, my baby, lullaby; For the dew is falling soft, Lights are flickering up aloft, And the head-light's peeping over Yonder hill-top capped with clover; Chickens long have gone to rest, Birds lie snug within their nest, And my birdie soon will be Sleeping with the chick-a-dee, For with only half a try, Winkum, winkum, shuts her eye.

BABY'S BELL.

Jingle! jingle! baby's bell; What a tale its tongue might tell. Could it speak it sure would say, "When the baby's tired with play, And is getting cross, don't try To jingle bells, but hush-a-bye; All so still, now crooning low, Lull-a-bye, bye-o, bye-o,— Quiet down his quaking nerves, Soothe him as his state deserves;— Passing hand from head to feet, Sl-o-w-l-y, softly, loving, sweet, As to smooth the feathers down, Rumpled, from your birdling's crown;— {19} See, he sleeps, and in his dream Yours may hand of angel seem, Raveling out the tangled ills, Knitting up with restful thrills."

WILLY-NILLY.

Willy-Nilly, birdy sings, For he's running over With the music that he flings To his sweet bird-lover;— Willy-nilly, baby laughs, Gay and glad and gleeful; Brimming over high with health, She is always playful.

BABY'S RECORD.

New-born baby, soft and pink, Of the two worlds on the brink. One month old,—eat and sleep; Precious little human heap. Two months old,—tear and smile; Fists in mouth and eyes the while. Three months old,—"goo-a-goo," Windows wide where soul looks through. Four months old,—finds his toes, Tries to fix them on his nose. {21} Five months old,—first wee pearl; All the household in a whirl. Six months old,—sits alone; Wishes swaddling clothes were gone. Seven months old,—creep and crawl, Wonder-eyed, a charm to all. Eight months old,—confiscate Pussy's tail and papa's pate. Nine months old,—roguish eyes Deepening daily; wilful, wise. Ten months old,—witching ways Wind us in; the baby pays! Eleven months old,—finger-tip Guides the elfin on his trip. Year old,—lots of mischief done; Walking, talking, just for fun.

SLEEP, LITTLE SWEETEY.

Sleep now, my sweetey, Dear one, and pretty! Weary with playing, Weary with straying, Stop little thinkers, Shut little winkers; Sleep, little sweetey, Precious and pretty. Sleep now, my sweetey, Dear One, and pretty! Stop little thinkers, Shut little winkers, Angels a-watching Sleep-doors unlatching; Slip in, my sweetey, Precious and pretty! Sleeping, my sweetey, Dear one, and pretty! Stopped, little thinkers, Shut, little winkers, Angels a-watching, Sleep-doors are latching; Slipped in, my sweetey, Precious and pretty!

NEVER TELL A FIB.

If mamma says she'll punish, She must do it, or she tells A fib, as Sister Annie Told "a story" 'bout the bells; And if mamma tells a fib, Then surely children will, And what a fearful thing, Our home with fibs to fill!

HUMPTY—DUMPTY.

Humpty-Dumpty, hip-o'-to-hop, Baby is crying, why doesn't he stop? What does he cry for? his clothing is tight; No wonder such things make baby a fright. Humpty-dumpty, hip-o'-to-hop, Baby was crying, but now he will stop; What did he cry for? his clothing was wet; No wonder such things should make babies fret. Humpty-dumpty, hip-o'-to-hop, Baby is crying, oh, when will he stop? What does he cry for? his feet are a-cold; No wonder such things should make baby scold. {25} Humpty-dumpty, hip-o'-to-hop, Baby is crying, but soon he will stop; What does he cry for? he had too much food; No baby in this way can ever be good. Humpty-dumpty, hip-o'-to-hop, Baby is laughing and scarcely will stop; What does he laugh for? Oh, when he feels well, He always is happy,—'tis thus we can tell.

HUSH-A-BYE.

Hush-a-bye, baby, On Grandmother's lap; Hush-a-bye, baby, And take a nice nap; Hush-a-bye, baby, What is it you say? Your "teeth are a-coming," You're "ten months to-day;" Well, babies must cry, And Grandmothers must try To comfort and hush them, but never forget The little gums ache, And little nerves quake, Till little lips quiver, and babies must fret. Hush-a-bye, baby, We'll cool his hot gums, Hush-a-bye, baby, With tiny ice-crumbs; Hush-a-bye, baby, We'll rub hard and long With icy-cold finger,— See him list to my song! {27} Ah, babies are sweet If their wants we but meet, So why should we blame them when fretful and cross? Let us find what is wrong, And remove it ere long, And we'll see that time thus spent is never a loss.

Hush-a-bye, baby, What more can we do Hush-a-bye, baby, That will comfort you? Hush-a-bye, baby, We'll lay you down flat, On your stomach, dear baby, On Grandmother's lap. {28} Nor trot you a mite, No matter how slight, But, sure that your clothing is all dry and neat, We'll loosen each band, And with soft and warm hand, Gently rub you all over from head to your feet.

Hush-a-bye, baby, We will not forget, Hush-a-bye, baby, That hands may be wet, Hush-a-bye, baby, And soothe you sometimes, When dry hands won't do it, Hush, list to my rhymes! {29} And now we'll not nurse Till the nursing's a curse; Nor dose you, nor drug you, nor feed with sweet-meats; Nor to soothe, will we try, With old "Dame Winslow" by, For our hopes for the babies, she ever defeats. Hush-a-bye, baby, We'll quiet his nerves, Hush-a-bye, baby, The truth it deserves— Hush-a-bye, baby— Even here to be known : We will quiet his nerves By just calming our own! And our baby will feel The sweet hush o'er him steal, That brings with it soothing and comfort and rest; And to slumber so soft, His spirit we'll waft, And then lay him away in his own baby nest.

DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH.

Dear Mamma, I've been laughing For Uncle Ben and Pa, And then for sister Lizzie I talked "ar-g o-o" and "gar;" And then a "little story" For Dick and Cousin Jane,— And now you, Mamma, want me To laugh and talk again. I'd like to do it, Mamma, but if I even try, I am so weary with it, I'm sure I'd only cry! Don't let them try, dear Mamma, to make me laugh and crow, I'll do it when I'm able, for babies always do.

BYE-BABY-BUNTING.

BYE-BABY-BUNTING, The Indians live by hunting, And bring home many a beaver-skin To wrap the little pappoose in. And mother-squaw the baby'll tie Fast on a board, and swinging high, Will hang it up among the trees To rock-a-bye with every breeze; But our dear baby, snug and warm, Shall rock-a-bye on mother's arm.

TO BED WITH THE CHICKENS.

Oh, put me in my bed, Mamma, When chickens go to rest, For I'm your little chick-a-dee, So put me in my nest. Yes, when the birds forget to sing, And lambs forget to play, You'll put your birdy in his nest, Your lamb you'll fold away.

DIVE ME SUDAR.

Papa, when you dive me tandy, Dive me only white,— 'Tause there's poison in the tolored, Which my health will blight; But you better dive me sudar, Let the tandy be,— 'Tause I shall not want so much, And that is best for me.

'TAUSE I'M TROSS

Mamma, 'tause I'm tross don't whip me; I tan't help it, not a bit! 'Tis the tandy hurts my stomat, And that mates me whine and fret. Sometimes, too, I'm whipped for trossness When the trossness tomes from meat; {35} Thint how tiders drowl and drumble, And then dive me food to eat That will mate me well and happy,— Wheat and oat-meal, rice and truit, These will mate me dood and gentle, 'Stead of mating me a brute.

THE NEW BOOK.

COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO, A picture-book for you,— Keep it nice, and in a trice Sing Cock-a-doodle-doo.

WHISKUM, WHISKUM.

Whiskum, whiskum, over the house, Scud the cloudlets, still as a mouse; Whiskum, whiskum, by-and-by They'll pour rain-drops from the sky.

THE JACK-HORSE.

We will ride our Jack-horse All the meadows across; Oh no, do not whip him, But feed him, my dear! A handful of grass In his mouth as we pass, Will make him trot gaily, And give us good cheer!

HI-DIDDLE-DIDDLE.

HI-DIDDLE-DIDDLE Mother duck's in the middle, Her baby-ducks swimming around; With bills like a ladle, And feet like a paddle, No danger that they will be drowned

THE RAIN.

Come, rain, come, That the water may run, That the meadow grass may grow; That the fruit and grain O'er hill and plain, May greet us as we go. Come, rain, come, That the water may run, That the mill may make our meal;— 'Twill grind our wheat, And corn so sweet, When it turns the old mill-wheel.

FEED THE BIRDIES.

Feed the birdies, darling, When the snow is here, When there are no berries On the bushes, dear;— Scatter food out for them, And they'll quickly come, Hopping, singing, chirping "Thank you for the crumb."

ROCK-A-BYE.

Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill, Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, Don't tremble with fear, For that tends to make His slight illness severe. Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill. Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby. Don't coax him to nurse, For urging to eat Only makes matters worse. {43} Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill, Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, No company 'round, Not even the dear ones, To make a loud sound.

Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill, Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, Don't rattle the papers Nor whisper around, Little nerves cut such capers. {44} Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill, Rock-a-bye, baby We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, Whatever is wrong, Attend to his bowels, Neglected too long, Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill, Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, If he is too hot, Undress him and bathe him; But, ah! he is not. Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill, Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, There is cough with unrest, So we'll wring out hot flannels, And cover his chest, {45} Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill; Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, He's perspiring, to pour! We will keep up this treatment A full hour more.

Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill, Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, Now dry him off neat, And wrap him up warm, And to-morrow, repeat. {46} Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill, Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, 'Tis not in his chest? Then place the hot flannels Where he feels the unrest. Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill, Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, He is moaning with pain, And rolling his head, And we pet him in vain. Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill; Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, We will wring out from ice, Linen cloths for his head, All so cooling and nice. {47} Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill; Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well; Rock-a-bye, baby, If cold don't relieve, Use hot and then cold, And then hot, you perceive.

Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling is ill; Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll soon have him well;— Rock-a-bye, baby, We'll see that his feet Are kept warm all the time, And his clothes dry and neat. {48} Rock-a-bye, baby, Our darling was ill Rock-a-bye, baby, But now he is well; Rock-a-bye, baby, No drugs, not a dose! Yet he's over it finely, Just hear how he crows

THE SNOWBALL.

Have ever you seen how a wee bit of snow, To a big bouncing ball, just by rolling, will grow? 'Tis thus our wee sins, children, let to roll on, Will grow big, bigger, biggest, till Satan has won.

LITTLE BO-PEEP.

Co' Nan, co' Nan, says little Bo-peep, Co' Nan, co' Nan, up come the sheep; They jump the ditch and scale the wall, Where one sheep goes, they follow, all. Co' dea', co' dea', says little Bo-peep, Co' dea', co' dea', I'll shear my sheep; Their wool so fine will make my coat, My blankets and my hose to boot.

THE TEA-PARTY.

Ah! little ones, I'm sure there's not A drop of tea in your weeny pot. For water bright and milk so pure, Alone will bring you health, be sure; And health is beauty, health is cheer, Health is happiness so dear.

TELL IT AGAIN, MOTHER.

"Tell it again, Mother, Tell it again,"— No matter what story she told We children, would cry, In the days gone by. Before our years were old. "Tell it again, Mother, Tell it again,"— No matter how weary and worn. For we children knew naught Of the care we brought, Before our sense was born. {53} "Tell it again, Mother, Tell it again,"— And she, patient, and kind, and wise, The tale would repeat, Or the song so sweet, And 'twas ever a glad surprise. "Tell it again, Mother, Tell it again,"— Ah! you children, when children no more, Will go back to the days Of sweet babyhood lays, And Mother's sage sayings con o'er.

LITTLE JACK HORNER.

LITTLE JACK HORNER Sat in the corner, Eating a morsel of nice brown bread; "Have some pie, or some cake?" "Nay, not I," with a shake And a toss of his wise little head. "For this bread will make bone, And white teeth like a stone, That will neither grow soft nor decay; But rich cake and rich pie Sure will break, bye and bye, My good health, and that never will pay."

LITTLE BOY BLUE.

"Little Boy Blue, may I go with you now?" "Yes, down to the pasture to drive up the cow." "Little boy blue, what then may I have?" A nice cup of milk as ever cow gave. "Little boy blue, the milk must be set;" "Yes, for 'tis thus the nice cream we shall get." "Little boy blue, what will we do then?" "We'll skim it and dash it, with 'churn, butter, churn.'" "Little boy blue, what else can we make?" "O, cheese, tempting cheese, and the dainty cheese cake." "Little boy blue, is there anything more?" "O, yes, puddings, custards and dainties, a store." "Little boy blue, shall we eat of all these?" "Simple food is far better for us, if you please."

MISS VELVET-PAWS.

Little Miss Velvet-paws, Raveling out her yarn, Catches mice, in a trice, In everybody's barn. Look out for velvet paws, Do not trust them far, For velvet paws cover claws That will leave a scar.

POLLY HOPKINS.

Now little Polly Hopkins Must surely know great A, And B, and C, and D, and E, F, G, H, I, J, K; And L, and M, and N, and O, And P, and Q, R, S, And T, U, V, and W, X, And Y, & Z, I guess.

A, B, C.

A Stands for Alligator, B Stands for Ball, C Stands for Cat in a cream-pot, D Stands for Doll.

E Stands for East, or Ellen. F Stands for Fay, G Stands for Goat, a Pen in, H Stands for Hay, I Stands for Indigestion,

J Stands for Jar, K Stands for King, or Keepsake, L Stands for La, M Stands for Man, or Thousand, N Stands for Nail,

O Stands for Oaken bucket, P Stands for Pail, Q Stands for Queen, or Question. R Stands for Rose, S Stands for Christmas Stocking,

T Stands for Toes, U Stands for Urn, or Ulster, V Stands for Vane, W Stands for West, or Winter.

X Stands for Ten. Y Stands for Yoke, (with Oxen). Z Stands for Zero. & when you've learned your LETTERS, You'll be a Hero.

C-A-T spells CAT, That brought the kittens here; D-O-G spells DOG, That does, the puppies, rear. C-O-W, Cow, The mother of the calf; O-X spells the Ox, That's bigger, yes, by half.

B-O-Y spells BOY, That's little brother Lou; G-I-R-L, GIRL, And that is sister Sue. B-I-R-D, BIRD, Just hear canary sing; G-O-L-D, GOLD, That makes a handsome ring B-O-O-K, BOOK, In which we learn to read; C-O-O-K, COOK, Supplies the food we need.

S-E-E-D, SEED, From which we raise the plant; S-I-N-G, SING, Just hear the children chant. B-A, BA, B-Y, BY, And that spells BABY, love; L-A, LA, D-Y, DY, And that spells LADY, dove. M-A, MA, R-Y, RY, And that spells MARY, child, E-D, ED, D-Y, DY, That's EDDY, sweet and mild.

THE KITTEN.

ONE, two, (1, 2,) Here's a kitten for you; THREE, four, (3, 4,) She will open the door, FIVE, six, (5, 6,) And your cream she will mix,—