THE Sloth en-joys a life of Ease; He hangs in-vert-ed from the trees, And views life up-side down. If you, my child, are noth-ing loath To live in In-dol-ence and Sloth, Un-heed-ing the World's frown, You, too, un-vexed by Toil and Strife, May take a hu-mor-ous view of life. The Elephant. THIS is the El-e-phant, who lives With but one aim--to please. His i-vo-ry tusk he free-ly gives To make pi-a-no keys. One grief he has--how-e'er he tries, He nev-er can for-get That one of his e-nor-mous size Can't be a house-hold pet. Then does he to his grief give way, Or sink 'neath sor-row's ban? Oh, no; in-stead he spends each day Con-tri-ving some un-sel-fish way To be of use to Man. The Pig-Pen. OH, turn not from the hum-ble Pig, My child, or think him in-fra dig. We oft hear lit-er-a-ry men Boast of the in-flu-ence of the Pen; Yet when we read in His-to-ry's Page Of Hu-man Pigs in ev-er-y age, From Cr[oe]-sus to the pres-ent day, Is it, my child, so hard to say (De-spite the Scribes' vain-glo-ri-ous boast) What Pen has in-flu-enced Man the most? Some Geese. EV-ER-Y child who has the use Of his sen-ses knows a goose. See them un-der-neath the tree Gath-er round the goose-girl's knee, While she reads them by the hour From the works of Scho-pen-hau-er. How pa-tient-ly the geese at-tend! But do they re-al-ly com-pre-hend What Scho-pen-hau-er's driv-ing at? Oh, not at all; but what of that? Nei-ther do I; nei-ther does she; And, for that mat-ter, nor does he. The Ant. MY child, ob-serve the use-ful Ant, How hard she works each day. She works as hard as ad-a-mant (That's very hard, they say). She has no time to gal-li-vant; She has no time to play. Let Fido chase his tail all day; Let Kitty play at tag: She has no time to throw a-way, She has no tail to wag. She scurries round from morn till night; She ne-ver, ne-ver sleeps; She seiz-es ev-ery-thing in sight, And drags it home with all her might, And all she takes she keeps. An Arctic Hare. AN Arc-tic Hare we now be-hold. The hair, you will ob-serve, is white; But if you think the Hare is old, You will be ver-y far from right. The Hare is young, and yet the hair Grew white in but a sin-gle night. Why, then it must have been a scare That turned this Hare. No; 't was not fright (Al-though such cases are well known); I fear that once a-gain you're wrong. Know then, that in the Arc-tic Zone A sin-gle night is six months long. The Wolf.