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The Ingoldsby Legends - NURSERY REMINISCENCES.

Kind, good-hearted, gouty Uncle John! how well I remember all the kindness and affecttion which my mischievous propensities so ill repaid -- his bright blue coat and resplendent gilt buttons -- his 'frosty pow' si bien poudre -- his little quill-like pigtail!-- Of all my praiseworthy actions -- they were 'like angel visits, few and far between'-- the never-failing and munificent rewarder; of my naughty deeds -- they were multitudinous as the sands on the sea-shore -- the ever-ready palliator; my intercessor, and sometimes even my defender against punishment, 'staying harsh justice in its mid career!'-- Poor Uncle John! he will ever rank among the dearest of my


"Cruel only to be kind"

I remember, I remember,
When I was a little Boy,
One fine morning in September
Uncle brought me home a toy.

I remember how he patted
Both my cheeks in kindliest mood;
'Then,' said he, 'you little Fat-head,
There's a top because you're good.'

Grandmamma--a shrewd observer--
I remember gazed upon
My new top, and said with fervour,
'Oh! how kind of Uncle John!'

While mamma, my form caressing,--
In her eye the tear-drop stood,
Read me this fine moral lesson,
'See what comes of being good!'

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I remember, I remember,
On a wet and windy day,
One cold morning in December,
I stole out and went to play;

I remember Billy Hawkins
Came, and with his pewter squirt
Squibb'd my pantaloons and stockings,
Till they were all over dirt!

To my mother for protection
I ran, quaking every limb:
-- She exclaimed, with fond affection,
'Gracious Goodness! look at him!'--

Pa cried, when he saw my garment,
--'Twas a newly-purchased dress --
'Oh! you nasty little Warment,
How came you in such a mess?'

Then he caught me by the collar,
-- Cruel only to be kind --
And to my exceeding dolour,
Gave me -- several slaps behind.

Grandmamma, while yet I smarted,
As she saw my evil plight,
Said --'twas rather stony-hearted --
'Little rascal! sarve him right!'

I remember, I remember,
From that sad and solemn day,
Never more in dark December
Did I venture out to play.

And the moral which they taught, I
Well remember; thus they said --
'Little Boys, when they are naughty,
Must be whipped and sent to bed!'

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