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Before the dame and Sallie, too,
Their pardon to obtain,
And promise she would never do
So wickedly again.
But ever after, let her go
Abroad where'er she would,
The boys would hoot her as she passed,
And call her—Tattling Jude!
THE STOLEN PENKNIFE.
"Harry, darling, what's the matter;
Have you hurt yourself, my boy?
When I went away, this morning,
That bright face was full of joy."
"Oh, papa," said Harry, sobbing,
"I do think it is a shame,
My new knife is gone—he stole it,
And I do not know his name."
"Your new knife! Who stole it, Harry?"
"That big boy, papa, who brought
Shavings here to sell, this morning;
Oh I wish he could be caught.
"I was standing on the sidewalk,
Whittling with my knife to-day,
