By Mrs. Hopley

He's wedded to his theory, they say.°
If that were true, it could not live a day.
And did the children of his brains enjoy
But half the pains he spends upon his boy,
You may depend that ere a week was fled,
There would not be a whole place in his head.

On seeing her children say Goodnight to their father.

Bid your Papa Goodnight. Sweet exhibition!
They kiss the Rod with filial submission.
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