The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1878-02-23
MISS EDITHS MODEST REQUEST.

MY papa knows you, and he says you're man
who makes reading for books;
But never read nothing you wrote, nor did papa
I know by his looks.
50 guess you re like me when talk, and talk
and talk all the day,
And they only say; "Do stop that childE' or,
But papa said if was good could ask you
alone by myself
If B00 wouldn't write me a book like that little
one up on the shelf.
Itont mean the pictures, of course, for to make
mem you We got to be smart;
JHt the reading that runs all round them, you
know-Just the easiest part.
You needn't mind what it's about, for one will
see it but me
And Jane-that's my nurse-and John-he's the
coachman-just only us three.
You're to write of bad little girl, that was
wicked and bold and all that;
And then you are to write, If you please, some
thing good-very good-of cat!
This cat she was virtuous and meek, and kind to
her parents, and mild,
And careful and neat in her ways, though her
mistress was such bad child;
And hours she would sit and would gaze when
her mistress that s me-was 80 bad,
And blink, just as if she would say: 20 Edith!
you make my heart sad"
And yet you would scarcely believe it, that beau
tiful, angelic cat
Was blamed by the servants for stealing whatev-
er, they said, she'd get at.
And W hen John drank my milk-don't you tell
-, me! | know lust the way it was done
They said twas the cat-and she sitting and
washing her face III the sun!
And then there was Dick, my canary. When l
left its cage open one day,
They all made believe that she ate it. though
know that the bird flew away.
And why? Just because she was playing with a
feather she found on the floor
As if cats couldn't play with feather without
people thinking twas more.
Why once we were roaming together, when l
knocked down vase from the shelf
That cat was as grieved and distressed as if she
had done it herself;
And she walked away sadly and hid herself, and
never came out until tea
50 they say, for they sent me to bed, and she
never came even to me.
No matter whatever happened. it was laid at the
door of that cat.
Why once, when tore my apron-she was
wrapped in it, and called " Rat y
Why, they blamed that on her. L shall never
no, not to my dying day
Forget the panied look that she gave me when
they slapped me and took me away.
Of course you know just what comes next when
child is as lovely as that.
She wasted quite slowl y await was goodness
was killing that cat.
L know it was nothing she ate for her taste was
But they said she stole Bobby's ice-cream, and
caught bad cold from the ice.
And you'll promise to make me book like that
little one up on the shelf,
And you'll call her Naomi, because it's a name
that she just gave herself;
For she'd scratch at my door in the morning, and
whenever I'd call out - Who's there?"
She would answer Naomi Naomir' like a
Christian. vow and declare.
And you'll put me and her in book. And mind
you're to say was bad;
And might have been bladder than that but for
the example had.
And you II say that she was Maltese and-what's
that you asked? is she dead?"
Why, please, sir, there amt any cat! You're to
make one up out of your head!
Bret Hd1te.