CHIL-DREN, be-hold the Chim-pan-zee: He sits on the an-ces-tral tree From which we sprang in ag-es gone. I'm glad we sprang: had we held on, We might, for aught that I can say, Be hor-rid Chim-pan-zees to-day. A Mole. SEE, chil-dren, the mis-guid-ed Mole. He lives down in a deep, dark hole; Sweet-ness, and Light, and good Fresh Air Are things for which he does not care. He has not e-ven that make-shift Of fee-ble minds--the _so-cial gift_. But say not that he has no soul, Lest hap-ly we misjudge the Mole; Nay, if we mea-sure him by Men, No doubt he sits in his dark den In-struct-ing oth-ers blind as he Ex-act-ly how the world _should_ be. The Rhinoceros. SO this is the Rhi-no-ce-ros! I won-der why he looks so cross. Per-haps he is an-noyed a bit Be-cause his cloth-ing does not fit. (They say he got it read-y made!) It is not that, I am a-fraid. He looks so cross be-cause I drew Him with one horn in-stead of two. Well, since he cares so much for style, Let's give him two and see him smile. A Penguin. THE Pen-guin sits up-on the shore And loves the lit-tle fish to bore; He has one en-er-vat-ing joke That would a very Saint pro-voke: "The Pen-guin's might-i-er than the Sword-fish"; He tells this dai-ly to the bored fish, Un-til they are so weak, they float With-out re-sis-tance down his throat. The Cat. OB-SERVE the Cat up-on this page. Phil-os-o-phers in ev-er-y age, The ver-y _wis-est_ of the wise, Have tried her mind to an-a-lyze In vain, for noth-ing can they learn. She baf-fles them at ev-er-y turn Like Mis-ter Ham-let in the play. She leads their rea-son-ing a-stray; She feigns an in-ter-est in string Or yarn or any roll-ing thing. Un-like the Dog, she does not care With com-mon Man her thoughts to share. She teach-es us that in life's walk 'T is bet-ter to let oth-ers talk, And lis-ten while _they_ say in-stead The fool-ish things we might have said. The Dog. HERE is the Dog. Since time be-gan, The Dog has been the friend of MAN, The Dog loves MAN be-cause he shears His coat and clips his tail and ears. MAN loves the Dog be-cause he'll stay And lis-ten to his talk all day, And wag his tail and show de-light At all his jokes, how-ev-er trite. His bark is far worse than his bite, So peo-ple say. They may be right; Yet if to make a choice I had, I'd choose his bark, how-ev-er bad. A Chameleon. A USE-FUL les-son you may con, My Child, from the Cha-me-le-on: He has the gift, ex-treme-ly rare In an-i-mals, of sav-oir-faire. And if the se-cret you would guess Of the Cha-me-le-on's suc-cess, A-dapt your-self with great-est care To your sur-round-ings ev-er-y-where; And then, un-less your sex pre-vent, Some day you may be Pres-i-dent.