It is proper that boys should learn to swim, when with Papa or some kind friend, but not as these boys have. I feel just sure they have played the truant—as I see the village school-master, with his little dog, coming over the rustic bridge to catch them.
I think that the letter D might, in this case, stand for Disobedient as well as Delightful.
ECCENTRICITY.—What have we here?—a very odd, comical picture, indeed! What a strange fellow, to put his hat upon the fire, and a saucepan on his head. I do declare he has his trowsers and waistcoat on wrong side before. See, he has taken the poker for a walking-stick, put a greasy candle in the book, and the eggs upon the floor. Why a small baby-boy would not do this: the poor fellow must be out of his right mind. You may laugh at this odd picture for it is very ridiculous, and will hurt no one; but good children should never make sport of those who are deformed in mind or body, for it is not a fault but a misfortune to be so.
FRAUD.—Patrick Murphy—commonly called, for shortness, Pat—was a very stupid little man; he reared pigs, and had he been sober, would have by this time saved a little property; but, no, Pat liked beer and strong drink: so that upon market-days he was far less sensible than his own jackass—which did know its way home—and for a long time took back foolish tipsy Pat safely; until one day, the roads being very bad, the cart came to a stop, and Neddy could pull no further. A rogue passing, seeing Pat asleep, unloosed the donkey from the cart, leaving Pat to awake, and much wonder what could have become of Neddy Bray, the donkey.
It was very wrong of the man to take Pat’s donkey, although Pat was a drunken fellow.
GENIUS.—Bravo! my little Artist. I dare say if you try again you will improve upon your first attempt. All people should learn to draw, that they may be able to describe a form in a very few lines, making things intelligible at sight which could not be described in any other way. A little knowledge of drawing will lead to a love of pictures and delight in the beautiful works of nature. Giotto, a great painter, who lived many hundred years ago, was but a poor shepherd-boy, who amused himself by drawing portraits of his sheep as he tended them on the hills; from rude attempts he rose to be a great artist, whose works are treasured by kings and princes. I dare say you may some day see some of the works of Giotto, the great Italian painter.
HORROR.—This drawing represents
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