An American edition of Poetry for Children was published in 1812 at Boston.  The poems “Clock Striking,” “Why not do it, Sir, To-day?” and “Home Delights,” were omitted.

I have placed against the poems, in the notes that follow, the authorship—­brother or sister’s—­which seems to me the more probable.  But I hope it will be understood that I do this at a venture, and, except in a few cases, with no exact knowledge.

Page 404. Envy.

(?) Mary Lamb.

Page 404. The Reaper’s Child.

(?) Mary Lamb.

Page 405. The Ride.

(?) Mary Lamb.

Page 406. The Butterfly.

(?) Mary Lamb.  The poet referred to was William Roscoe, author of The Butterfly’s Ball, 1807.

Page 407. The Peach.

(?) Mary Lamb.

Page 408. Chusing a Name.

By Charles Lamb; as we know from a letter from Lamb to Robert Lloyd.

Page 408. Crumbs to the Birds.

(?) Mary Lamb.

Page 409. The Rook and the Sparrows.

(?) Mary Lamb.

Page 410. Discontent and Quarrelling.

(?) Mary Lamb.

Page 411. Repentance and Reconciliation.

(?) Mary Lamb.

Page 412. Neatness in Apparel.

(?) Charles Lamb.

Page 412. The New-born Infant.

(?) Mary Lamb.

Page 413. Motes in the Sun-beams.

(?) Mary Lamb.

Page 413. The Boy and Snake.

(?) Mary Lamb.  This poem was the subject of the frontispiece to Vol.  I. of the original edition.  According to a letter from Jean D. Montgomery printed in The County Gentleman in August, 1907, there is extant in Kirkcudbrightshire a legend on which this poem is probably based.  She writes thus:—­

“At the farm of Newlaw, in the parish of Rerrick, in Kirkcudbrightshire, Scotland, some people named Crosbie lived about the year 1782—­at least, they had a son, Douglas, who was born there in that year.  When the child grew old enough to trot about by himself his mother was in the habit of giving him his plate of porridge and milk to take outside the farm and eat every morning.  He had probably done so for long enough, when one day, his mother, happening to go out, saw him seated on the ground eating his porridge in company with an adder, who, however, instead of hurting the child, merely supped up the milk.  When the reptile edged a little nearer to the boy than was quite equal, Douglas slapped the adder on his head with his horn spoon, saying, “Keep yer ain side o’ the plate, Grey Bairdie.”

The mother was, of course, terrified, but waited until the boy had finished his meal, when she called in the neighbours and killed the adder.

Curiously enough a precisely similar story turned up in Hungary in 1907 and was telegraphed to the London press from Budapest.