Nurse's Third Tale, About a Little Boy Who Was Afraid in the Dark

Young Andrew Fearful was a child Most pleasing to behold, His temper was so sweet and mild, And he was four years old.

But one sad failing Andrew had, Tho' gay as any lark, With scarce one habit that was bad, He did not like the dark.

As soon as candlelight appear'd On evening fireside table, To walk about he scarcely dared, Though he was strong and able.

And shadows flitting on the wall, Made Andrew jump and stare; He thought some mischief would befall With such great monsters there.

Mamma, in many a pleasant way, Contriv'd the help he needed; And glad I am that I can say, Her care at last succeeded.

She took him to a room quite dark, And led him by the hand To some known object, as a mark, And then they both would stand.

The room shut in, without a light, He did not much enjoy, And Andrew fear'd to step aright; So foolish was this boy.

But growing bolder, he would try The furniture to handle; And Andrew, fearless by and by, Scarce wish'd to have a candle,

Mamma, a paper nicely tied. Would place behind the curtain, With figs, or Pomfret cakes, supplied, And then the joy was certain.

The shadows which he used to fear, Became his great delight; With joy mamma beheld her dear So pleas'd with candlelight.

Thus many a pleasant hour beguil'd, Young Andrew's courage grew; Mamma was happier in her child, And he was happier too.