Young Folks' Treasury: Classic Tales and Old-Fashioned Stories HTML version

"It is impossible to let him ride on the mutton," said his father—"quite impossible!"
"Well, but you might just put him astride the dish, just to satisfy him. You can take care his legs
or clothes do not go into the gravy."
"Anything for a quiet life," said the father. "What does Limby want? Limby ride?"
"Limby on bone! Limby on meat!"
"Shall I put him across?" said Mr. Lumpy.
"Just for one moment," said his mother; "it won't hurt the mutton."
The father rose, and took Limby from his chair, and, with the greatest caution, held his son's legs
astride, so that they might hang on each side of the dish without touching it—"just to satisfy
him," as he said, "that they might dine in quiet—" and was about to withdraw him from it
But Limby was not to be cheated in that way. He wished to feel the saddle under him, and
accordingly forced himself down upon it; but feeling it rather warmer than was agreeable,
started, and lost his balance, and fell down among the dishes, soused in melted butter,
cauliflower, and gravy, floundering, and kicking, and screaming, to the detriment of glasses,
jugs, dishes, and everything else on the table.
"My child! my child!" said his mother. "Oh, save my child!"
She snatched him up, and pressed his begreased garments close to the bosom of her best silk
Neither father nor mother wanted any more dinner after this. As to Limby, he was as frisky
afterwards as if nothing had happened, and about half an hour from the time of this disaster cried
for his dinner.
The Sore Tongue
There was a little girl called Fanny, who had the misfortune one day to bite her tongue as she
was eating her breakfast. It hurt her so much that she could scarcely help crying; and even when
the first smart was over, it continued so sore that whenever she spoke it pained her considerably.