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  Peggy held on with tightening grip,
  While Sarah Jane behind,
       Having no hold
       To make her bold,
  To screaming gave her mind.

  “O Peggy! put me down I pray! 
  I ride in mortal dread! 
       Do make him stop,
       Or I shall drop
  And break my wooden head!”

  E’en as those piteous words she spoke,
  They struck a fearful “snag”
       Their grips they lost,
       And both were tossed
  Upon the cruel “flag”.

[Illustration]

  Their senses for a moment gone,
  They lay in ghastly plight;
       Their fiery steed
       From burden freed,
  Maintained his onward flight.

  Then each in aching consciousness
  Rose slowly with sad groans;
       Next faced about
       With angry shout,
  Followed by tears and moans.

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  Each blamed the other for the fall;
  Until, in gentler mood,
       Their hurts they dress,
       While both confess
  The crying did them good.

  A wooden crutch poor Peggy finds
  To help her on her feet;
       Both solemn-faced
       Their steps retraced
  To where they first did meet.

[Illustration]

  But sorrow’s tears are quickly dried
  With dolls as well as men.—­
       A jolly crowd
       All laughing loud
  (I think you’ll count just ten.)

  Mounted a little wooden cart,
  While Peggy, brave and tried,
       Got up in front
       To bear the brunt
  Of “Hobby’s” mighty stride.

[Illustration]

  Finding a pleasant open space,
  Gay Peg’ unships her load;
       Suggests a game
       Which, it is plain,
  Will soon be quite the “mode.”

  She tells of former Christmas nights,
  When many of her kind,
       At leap-frog played,
       And merry made,
  Fast running like the wind.

  The happy moments swiftly sped
  In unabated glee;
       Their lungs were strong,
       Their legs were long,
  And supple at the knee.

[Illustration]

  But soon they hear the clock strike “two”
  The hours are flying fast! 
       With much to do
       Ere night be thro’
  Its’ pleasures overpast!

  “Just one leap more!” cries Sarah Jane,
  “This fills my wildest dream!”
       E’en as she spoke,
       Peg’ Deutchland broke
  Into a piercing scream.

  Then all look round, as well they may
  To see a horrid sight! 
       The blackest gnome
       Stands there alone,
  They scatter in their fright.

  With kindly smile he nearer draws;
  Begs them to feel no fear. 
       “What is your name?”
       Cries Sarah Jane;
  “The ‘Golliwogg’ my dear.”

  Their fears allayed—­each takes an arm,
  While up and down they walk;
       With sidelong glance
       Each tries her chance,
  And charms him with “small talk”.