R-ragged R-rascals R-rural R-race,

R-round the R-rugged R-rock -

young WASHINGTON JUPP, just mumbled and mumbled and wouldn't speak up.

"Did nothing improve him?" I hear you all say. "Oh, what has become of poor WASHINGTON J.?" The answer will cause you to open your eye, for our hero was cured by a gooseberry pie!

A gooseberry pie, not too sharp nor too sweet, was the dish the small JUPP most delighted to eat.
A gooseberry pie with a portion of cream, seemed to WASHINGTON
JUPP like some beautiful dream, and it chanced that a gooseberry pie
was served up, on the day that I mention, by kind Mrs. Jupp.

"M-m," mumbled WASHINGTON, "this is good stuff! All right as a sample— not nearly enough! "But partly through slackness and partly through pie, you'd never have gathered— and neither should I— that in accents that Mr. Lloyd James would deplore, like Oliver Twist he was asking for more.

His mother, although a most excellent woman, was
fitted with ears, after all, only human, not catching her WASHINGTON'S muffled demand, leaned forward and tenderly patted his hand, and said with a
motherly light in her eye, " Don't eatit then, dear, if you don't like the pie ! " He mumbled and mumbled and passed his plate up till, puzzled and mystified, poor Mrs. Jupp replied to her son with a ghost of a frown,

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