THERE are some little folks that we never can please; 

They fret about trifles, and trouble and tease, 

Discontented whenever at play, 

Till their friends are worn out, and are heartily glad 

When bedtime has come, and each cross lass or lad 

Is quiet, and out of the way. 

There are some little folks so good-tempered and sweet, 

That to see their bright faces is always a treat, 

And every one likes them, you know; 

They amuse themselves, smiling, with some pleasant play, 

And take care not to worry or get in the way, 

And are welcome wherever they go. 

Child's Paper.