Little Mamma

If I do not kiss them this very minute-
Don't-wait-a-bit-but-at-once-begin-it-
Dear little Papa!

That's what they say and do to Mamma.

If, mildly hinting, I quietly say that
Kissing's a game that more can play at,
They turn up at once those innocent eyes,
And I suddenly learn to my great surprise
That my face has "prickles "-

My moustache tickles.

If, storming their camp, I seize a pert shaver,
And take as a right what was asked as a favor,
It is, "Oh, Papa,

How horrid you are

You taste exactly like a cigar!"

But though the rebels protest and pout,
And make a pretence of driving me out,
I hold, after all, the main redoubt,-
Not by force of arms nor the force of will,
But the power of love, which is mightier still.
And very deep in their hearts, I know,
Under the saucy and petulant "Oh,"
The doubtful "Yes," or the naughty "No,"
They love Papa.

And down in the heart that no one sees,
Where I hold my feasts and my jubilees,
I know that I would not abate one jot
Of the love that is held by my little Dot
Or my great big boy for their little Mamma,
Though out in the cold it crowded Papa.

I would not abate it the tiniest whit,
And I am not jealous the least little bit;
For I'll tell you a secret: Come, my dears,
And I'll whisper it-right-into-your-ears-
I, too, love Mamma,
Little Mamma!

945

Charles Henry Webb.

THE COMICAL GIRL

THERE was a child, as I have been told,
Who when she was young didn't look very old.
Another thing, too, some people have said,
At the top of her body there grew out a head;
And what perhaps might make some people stare
Her little bald pate was all covered with hair.
Another strange thing which made gossipers talk,
Was that she often attempted to walk.

And then, do you know, she occasioned much fun
By moving so fast as sometimes to run.

Nay, indeed, I have heard that some people say
She often would smile and often would play.
And what is a fact, though it seems very odd,
She had monstrous dislike to the feel of a rod.

This strange little child sometimes hungry would be

And then she delighted her victuals to see.

Even drink she would swallow, and though strangs it appears

Whenever she listened it was with her ears.

With her eyes she could see, and strange to relate

Her peepers were placed in front of her pate.
There, too, was her mouth and also her nose,
And on her two feet were placed her ten toes.
Her teeth, I've been told, were fixed in her gums,
And beside having fingers she also had thumbs.
A droll child she therefore most surely must be,
For not being blind she was able to see.
One circumstance more had slipped from my mind
Which is when not cross she always was kind.
And, strangest of any that yet I have said,

She every night went to sleep on her bed.
And, what may occasion you no small surprise,
When napping, she always shut close up her eyes.

M. Pelham.

Bunches of Grapes

947

BUNCHES OF GRAPES

"BUNCHES of grapes," says Timothy, "Pomegrantes pink," says Elaine;

"A junket of cream and a cranberry tart "For me," says Jane.

"Love-in-a-mist," says Timothy,
"Primroses pale," says Elaine;
A nosegay of pinks and mignonette
For me," says Jane.

"Chariots of gold," says Timothy, "Silvery wings," says Elaine;

"A bumpety ride in a waggon of hay For me," says Jane.

Walter Ramal.

XVI

IMMORTAL STANZAS

THE PURPLE COW

I NEVER SAW a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,

I'd rather see than be one.

Gelett Burgess.

THE YOUNG LADY OF NIGER

THERE was a young lady of Niger
Who smiled as she rode on a Tiger;
They came back from the ride

With the lady inside,

And the smile on the face of the Tiger.

THE LAUGHING WILLOW

To see the Kaiser's epitaph

Would make a weeping willow laugh.

Unknown.

Oliver Herford.

SAID OPIE READ

SAID Opie Read to E. P. Roe,
"How do you like Gaboriau?"
"I like him very much indeed!"

Said E. P. Roe to Opie Read.

Julian Street and James Montgomery Flagg.

Immortal Stanzas

949

MANILA

Он, dewy was the morning, upon the first of May,

And Dewey was the admiral, down in Manila Bay;
And dewy were the Regent's eyes, them royal orbs of blue,
And do we feel discouraged? We do not think we do!

Eugene F. Ware.

ON THE ARISTOCRACY OF HARVARD

I COME from good old Boston,

The home of the bean and the cod;
Where the Cabots speak only to Lowells,
And the Lowells speak only to God!

Dr. Samuel G. Bushnell.

ON THE DEMOCRACY OF YALE

HERE'S to the town of New Haven,

The home of the truth and the light;

Where God speaks to Jones in the very same tones,
That he uses with Hadley and Dwight!

Dean Jones.

THE HERRING

"THE Herring he loves the merry moonlight
And the Mackerel loves the wind,

But the Oyster loves the dredging song

For he comes of a gentler kind."

Sir Walter Scott.

IF THE MAN

If the man who turnips cries,
Cry not when his father dies,
'Tis a proof that he had rather
Have a turnip than his father.

Samuel Johnson.