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Slovenly Betsy

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<h2>SOPHIE SPOILALL</h2> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> I never saw a girl or boy So prone as Sophie to destroy Whate'er she laid her hands upon, Though tough as wood, or hard as stone; With Sophie it was all the same, No matter who the thing might claim, No matter were it choice or rare, For naught did the destroyer care. Her playthings shared the common lot; Though hers they were, she spared them not, Her dolls she oft tore limb from limb, To gratify a foolish whim. </div> </div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image_89.jpg" width-obs="450" height-obs="648" alt="Illustration" /></div> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> “Fie!” said her mother, “don't you know, That if you use your playthings so, Kriss Kringle will in wrath refuse To give you what you might abuse? Remember, how in times gone by, You've always found a rich supply Of Christmas presents; but beware, You'll find no more another year.” </div> </div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image_91.jpg" width-obs="450" height-obs="654" alt="Illustration" /></div> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> You'd think such words would surely tend To make this child her ways amend. But no; she still her course pursued, Regardless of advice so good. But when her mother sees 'tis plain That all her arguments are vain, Says she, “Since I have done my best, I'll let experience do the rest.” Meantime the season of the year For Christmas gifts was drawing near, And Sophie doubted not that she An ample store of them would see. At length the happy hour was come. The children, led into the room, Behold, with wonder and surprise, Three tables set before their eyes. One is for Nelly, one for Ned, And both with choicest treasures spread. </div> </div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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