182 THE YOUTH’S CABINET.

 

J. No. Monkeys are not like little
boys, who know what is said to them.

G. I wish I had a little saw. I should
like to saw off little sticks. Let me take
hold with you.

J. No. You would be in the way,
_ and perhaps get a knock,

G. Yes, I want to saw.

J. Little boys are like monkeys. They
always want to do everything they see
done.

G. Did Mischief want to saw ?

J. Ido not know. But one day when
he was in the house—

G. Did you let him come in?

J. We used to tie him in the kitchen,
in cold weather. Every night, my
mother used to sit by the fire, and un-
dress the baby. She used to take off
its little gown and tier, and put on its
night-gown. Then she would put it in
the cradle, and rock it to sleep.

G. And sing ?

J. Yes. One day the baby crawled
to Mischief, when mother was not look-
ing. He pulled off her tier, and untied
her gown, and pulled all the pins out of
her little petticoat. Then he tried to
lift her up, to put her into the cradle.
Baby did not like to be squeezed. So
she cried, and mother ran and took her

J. One day, he took it into his head
togotochurch. It was in summer time.
All the people were sitting in their pews,
and the minister was preaching. Mis-
chief came in at a window, and ran over
the tops of the pews. Nobody could
catch him. He pulled off a lady’s bon-
net. He boxed a good old man’s ears,
and gave his queue a twitch. Then he
climbed up into the singing seats. At
last they caught him. I came out of
my pew, as red as fire, and carried him
home. Ishut him up in the meal room.
Well. By and bye meeting was done.
All the people were going home. When
they came along by our house, they
wondered what was coming down like
snow, all over them. They looked up
to see.

G. Why, what was it?

J. They saw a little black hand, put
through a broken pane of glass in the
window. It was shaking down meal by
handfuls.

G. And was it Mischief?

J. Yes. It was Mischief, whom I
had shut up in the meal room. O, he
was a sad rogue! I remember one day
my mother baked some custards. Well,
she put them away to cool; she set them
on a table, in a waiter. When she
wanted them, she went for them. Every
one had the print of Mischief’s little
black thumb in the middle of it. O, he
was a little plague.

G. What did he do after that ?

J. He would get my mother’s thimble,
and balls, and put them into his cheek.
He put needles and pins in, too.

G. I wonder if they pricked.

J. And her wax, and all her things,
he ran away with. At last, I had or-
ders to sell poor Mischief.

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

G. Was not the baby afraid?

J. No. Sometimes Mischief would get
the kitten, and hold her. If she moved,
he would squeeze her very tight, and
rock to and fro with her.

G. Poorkitten! Did he hurt her?

J. Not much, I guess, for she liked
him very well. She would sleep close
by him at night when it was cold.

G. Tell me more stories about Mis-
chief, Will you, John?

e
&
.

£