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THE BALLAD OF A SAD, BAD GIRL.

They look with surprise at her feet, and again at her ragged gown,
And one by one they pass with a careless smile or a frown;

But the sweetest face bent near, and —“I came,” said Margery,

“For I thought ’twas an angel sung, ‘ Let the children come to me!’”

With a tender sigh the singer took the child on her knee;

“T sang the words for the dear Lord Christ, my Margery,
And so, for the dear Lord Christ, I take thee home with me!”
—‘“It was an angel sang!” sobs little Margery.

THE BALLAD OF A SAD, BAD GIRL.

By M. E. B.

HE was pretty, she was bright,
She was brave as she was bonny,

Her eyes were full of light,

And her smile was bright and sunny ;
She was rare, she was fair,

And her hair was full of curl,
But she was — O, she was

Such a sad, bad girl!

Her cheek was like a rose,

Her mouth was like a cherry,
She’d a pretty, pert, snub nose,

And her laugh was gay and merry;
She was sweet to her feet,

And her teeth were made of pearl,
But she was —O, she was

Such a sad, bad girl!

Her locks were touched with gold,
And a three-foot rule would scrape her;
She was only five years old,
And her finger tips were taper ;
She could run just like fun,
With a rush and with a swirl;
Still she was — O, she was
Such a sad, bad girl!

For she wanted her own way,

And you couldn’t turn or twist her,
She’d say yes, or she’d say nay,

Spite of mother, friend, or sister ;
How she’d fly if you’d try.

Any fancy to imperil!
For she was— O, she was

Such a sad, bad girl!

If her mamma, or her aunt,
Asked for any little favor,
She’d say shai, and she’d say sha’#’é
With the very sourest flavor;
She would pout, and she’d flout,
Till their brains were in a whirl,
For she was — yes, she was
Such a sad, bad girl!

But she’s getting older now,

And although they’re almost frantic,
Still they hope she’s learning how

To be gentle and less antic,
So that soon a day may come

When they’ll call their little Pearl
Not a sad, and a bad-—

But a good, coop girl !1

‘