THE

DAISY;

OR,

CAUTIONARY STORIES IN VERSE.

ADAPTED TO THE

IDEAS OF CHILDREN

FROM

Four to Eight Years Old.

ILLUSTRATED WITH THIRTY ENGRAVINGS.

London:

PRINTED FOR J. HARRIS, SUCCESSOR TO E. NEWBERY,
CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCH YARD; AND
CROSBY AND CO., STATIONERS' COURT.

1807.

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.

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.

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.

Joseph West had been told,
That if, when he grew old,
He had not learnt rightly to spell,
[16] 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.

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?

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.

Come hither, little dog, to play,
And do not go so far away,
But stand and beg for food;
[24] 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.

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.

Miss Jenny and Polly
Had each a new Dolly,
With rosy-red cheeks and blue eyes;
[30] 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.

Tom and Charles once took a walk,
To see a pretty lamb;
And as they went, began to talk
Of little naughty Sam,
[32] 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.

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:
[34] 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.

Maria was a careless child,
And griev'd her friends by this:
Where'er she went,
[38] 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."

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 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,
[42] 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!

Miss Ann saw a Man,
Quite poor, at a door,
And Ann had a pretty new penny;
[44] 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.

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.

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.

When Jacky drown'd our poor cat Tib,
He told a very naughty fib;
And said he had not drown'd her;
[50] 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.

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.

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.

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!

"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."

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.

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.

Who knocks so loudly at the gate?
The night is dark, the hour is late,
And rain comes pelting down!
[64] 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."

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.

ILLUSTRATED SHILLING SERIES

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.

LONDON: PUBLISHED BY
The Leadenhall Prefs, Ltd: 50, Leadenhall Street, E.C.
Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co., Ltd:

1. THE DAISY; or, Cautionary Stories in Verse, adapted to 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.

2. THE COWSLIP; or, More Cautionary Stories in Verse. By the author of that much-admired little work, entitled The Daisy. 1811.

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 Cowslip.

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
Forgotten Children's Books.

SMILES AND LAUGHTER IN EVERY PAGE.

PAGES AND PICTURES FROM FORGOTTEN CHILDREN'S BOOKS. Brought together 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.

STORIES FROM OLD-FASHIONED CHILDREN'S BOOKS brought together and 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 Shillings.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

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

CAUTIONARY STORIES,

DAISY;

ILLUSTRATED SHILLING SERIES

SMILES AND LAUGHTER IN EVERY PAGE.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: