OH, yes, the Wolf is bad, it's true; But how with-out him could we do? If there were not a wolf, what good Would be the tale of RID-ING-HOOD? The Lit-tle Child from sin will fly When told the wick-ed Wolf is nigh; And when, ar-rived at Man's es-tate, He hears the Wolf out-side his gate, He knows it's time to put a-way I-dle fri-vol-i-ty and play. That's how (but do not men-tion it) This prim-er hap-pened to be writ. An Ostrich. THIS is an Os-trich. See him stand: His head is bur-ied in the sand. It is not that he seeks for food, Nor is he shy, nor is he rude; But he is sen-si-tive, and shrinks And hides his head when-e'er he thinks How, on the Gains-bor-ough hat some day Of some fine la-dy at the play, His fea-thers may ob-struct the view Of all the stage from me or you. The Hippopotamus. "OH, say, what is this fearful, wild In-cor-ri-gible cuss?" "This _crea-ture_ (don't say 'cuss,' my child; 'T is slang)--this crea-ture fierce is styled The Hip-po-pot-am-us. His curious name de-rives its source From two Greek words: _hippos_--a horse, _Potamos_--river. See? The river's plain e-nough, of course; But why they called that thing a horse, That's what is Greek to me." The Fly. OB-SERVE, my child, the House-hold Fly, With his ex-traor-di-na-ry eye: What-ev-er thing he may be-hold Is mul-ti-plied a thou-sand-fold. _We_ do not need a com-plex eye When we ob-serve the Household Fly: He is so vol-a-tile that he In _ev-ery_ place at once can be; He is the buzz-ing in-car-na-tion Of an-i-mate mul-ti-pli-ca-tion. Ah! chil-dren, who can tell the Why And Where-fore of the House-hold Fly? The Mongoos. THIS, Chil-dren, is the famed Mon-goos. He has an ap-pe-tite ab-struse; Strange to re-late, this crea-ture takes A cu-ri-ous joy in eat-ing snakes-- All kinds, though, it must be con-fessed, He likes the poi-son-ous ones the best. From him we learn how ve-ry small A thing can bring a-bout a Fall. Oh, Mon-goos, where were you that day When Mis-tress Eve was led a-stray? If you'd but seen the ser-pent first, Our Parents would not have been cursed, And so there would be no ex-cuse For MIL-TON, but for you--Mon-goos! The Platypus. MY child, the Duck-billed Plat-y-pus A sad ex-am-ple sets for us: From him we learn how In-de-ci-sion Of char-ac-ter pro-vokes De-ri-sion. This vac-il-lat-ing Thing, you see, Could not de-cide which he would be, Fish, Flesh, or Fowl, and chose all three. The sci-en-tists were sore-ly vexed To clas-si-fy him; so per-plexed Their brains that they, with Rage at bay, Called him a hor-rid name one day,-- A name that baf-fles, frights, and shocks us,-- Or-ni-tho-rhyn-chus Par-a-dox-us. The Chimpanzee.