SHINGLES FROM AN OLD ROOF.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume IV, Issue 192, 16 September 1864, Page 1 (Supplement)

SHINGLES FROM AN OLD ROOF.

BY A FREE AND EASY SHINGLEE. MUCH TOO GOOD BOOKS .- A JUVENILE SHINGLE ; IN ONE OE TWO SYLLABLES. Aunt Jane lias brought us a new book, which she says is a ve-ry good book for little boys. And we have read it, and do not like it. For it is much too good for us. It is full of long words, which we do not know the mean-iug of; and in-stead of pret-ty pictures, and nice sto-ries, it is all a-bout good chil-dren who were so ve-ry good, and so liap-py to die, and to go to Heav-en that it seems a pi-ty they ev-er lived. There is nothing said a-bout it in the book, but we think they must have had wings spout-ing out of their shoul-ders, like the fun-ny tilings they put on the tomb-stones, you know. And we don’t want to die just yet, and I have seen •Toni's should-er, and he has seen mine, and we have not got a-ny feathers, so it can’t be meant for us. Aunt Jane always does bring us such books, and we wisli she* would not Pa-pa says it is be-cause Aunt is an old maid, and is so good her-self. So we sup-pose old maids are better than o-ther folks, which we do not like to think, be-cause we love Mamma, and think her the best wom-an in the world, which Pa says she is, and she is not an old maid we know, for we asked her, and she told us she was not. Aunt brought us a book, some time a-go, wdiich was just as bad as the otli-er one. It was some-thing a-bout the lightning—(only the man who wrote it called it by a dread-ful name, which we can’t spell), and about rocks and trees, and all that which Aunt said was to make us wise, and teach us “ sci-ence”—though what that is we do not know'. But we have not learnt it, for it is not the sort of book that we like. What we like is a book with lots of fun-ny tales, and pret-ty prints, all in blue and red. We like to read a-bout Jack and the Beanstalk, and that o-ther Jack you know who kill-ed the gi-ants, and a-bout the sea and Sin-bad the sail-or, and sav-age is-lands, and the old wo-rnan and her pig who would not go o-ver the stile. (I am sure we wish Aunt Jane would not go over our style.) And we are fond of read-ing a-bout Crusoe and his man Fri-day: and we like Pil-grim’s Pro-gress ve-ry much ; and we do so love the poor young la-dy who sat in the cin-ders and put on the wme glass shoe, and mar-ried the Prince. And some-times we make sis-ter Nel-ly play the cin-der girl and Tom is the Prince, and I am the bad sis-ter, and it is such fun. And we all feel bet-ter af-ter it, and want to live to be good men, and to do good things, which seems to us quite as nice as to a fly a-way from the wmrld with large wings and no bo-dies ; and Pa says it is much brav-er and bet-ter too. So we mean to be brave and good when we are men, and to fight the wick-ed gi-ants, and to do our duty. But wmle we are uoys, let us be boys, and tell all Aunt Janes not to dose us with books, which makes us dull and sad. If we have to take phy-sic with our jam it is bad e-nough, and not to be thought of when we

are well, ami we want to know why we should take phy-sic for our minds when there is nothing the mat-tor with them. It. does but put bad thoughts into young heads, such as we should nut have dreamt of but for the good books. We can learn a los-son from read-ing a-bout Brown-Jones and the o-tber boy with the long name, and we ne-ver say “ Don't care’ for fear of be-ing eat up by the li-ons. But we do not care for John All-bad who came to grief, with a fish-bone in his throat, for tel-Jiug a lie. We do not tell lies, bo-cause Pa says gen-tie men al-ways speak the truth, and we want to be gen-tle men. And so we eat our hsh—when we can get it —with-out fear of be-ing choked, and wo are not go-ing to be made a-fraid, by read-ing of Sam No-good, who had the small-pocks which spoilt his beau-ty, for say-ing naugh-ty words, gen-tle men do not say naugh-ty words, nor gen-tle boys ei-ther; and we have had the oth-er pocks from the cows, which the Doctor gave us, when we were ba-bies, and we don’t care a dump, and it is no good to try it on with us, and we won’t read Aunt Jane’s books. And we have torn up one of them to make a kite’s tail, so that it may go up to the skies, with the much too good boys it talks a-bout. And the oth-er is half gone for squibs and crack-ers, which is" ail right in the way of sci-ence, as we are a-ble to know it. When we are men, like pa-pa it will be time e-nough to know more. But we are not men, but boys; and don’t want to be men be-iore our time, so do you just put this in the pa-per, so that all the Aunt Janes in the world may see what we hoys think of them, and then per-haps they will give us nice books. You know it is ve-ry kind of Aunt, but she does not know our minds. How can she ? We think she ne-ver was a boy herself. We like to laugh and be mer-ry whilst we may. When we are old-er we shall have cause e-nough to weep ; and it is cru-el to try to make us sad be-fore our time comes. We ne-ver did a-ny mis- chief, except when we put the cat’s feet in-to walnuts, which made such a jol-ly row and smash half the glass-es in the pan-try. It was a great lark, and did not hurt poor Pussy much. So it was when we tied all the ducks to the hens and sent them into the water; and we did catch it from Pa. Oh, my ! lie was in such a rage, but he could not help laughing, for all that, so we did not care much, as there were no li-ons to gob-hle us up. And when we set a big bean in the mid-dle of his tu-lips to see if it would grow as tall as Jack s—you know—ho did not pull it out, but told us to get a slick high e-nough lor the bean to reach the skies on, and we could not find one. But it did not mat-ter, for the bean nev-er grew so high as to want it. There are no such beans now as there used to be, which is a pit-y. Last time Uu-cle Bob was in town he bought us a lirst-rate book. We think it is the best we have had, and Un-clc Bob is a real good fel-low. Tom says we ought to send you one of the tales, and we have written out the best of them. But you can’t think what fun-ny pict-ures it has. We have laugh-ed at them till our sides are sore which pa thinks bet-ter for boys than crying o-ver dis-mal tales like those in Aunt Jane’s nast-y hooks, for they arc nast-y and we don't care. And if Aunt sends ns any more of them she shall have them hack with a Ja-bel off the beast-Iy phy-sic bot-tle—-“When ta-ken, to he well sha-ken.” But here is the tale we wrote out for you, and it’s a rare good one, with a cock-y little bird in red breech-es at the top:— . A sau-cy lit-tle spar-row Asked if it was not right, That lit-tle birds should sing all day And owls should cry at night. Some said it was ; some shook their heads, And said the time would come, When lit-tle birds must bop the twig, And cv-er more be dumb. Wbere-at the spar-row nn-swer made—■ “Then all the rea-son more Why we should sing while since wo may, And cry when morn is o’er.” There ! —I hope Aunt Jane won’t pest-er us boys a-ny more with too good books after that. For we a-gree with the lit-tle spar-row, that it will be soon e-nough to pull long fa-ces and howl when sun-set comes. And we don’t mean to be made little sham saints nor wise men till the pro-per time. So we are go-ing to spin our tops, fly our kites and play at ring-taw, or crick-et while we can. And we have two jol-ly crack-ers read-y to put, on Aunt-y’s tail next lime she comes, and when they go oft’ un-der her cri-n-ny line, per-haps she’ll know that we are not too good boys. Tom and Dick Siiik-glkk.