"I don't see what's the use of my bothering my head learning to write," quoth Tom. "It's a great deal more fun using a typewriter, and you don't get your clothes all over ink." * * * * * DIDN'T CARE FOR THAT KIND. "How's the ice?" cried Jack. "Like glass," said Willie. "Then I'm going home," said Jack. "Glass isn't any good to skate on." * * * * * PAPA. "Your teacher sent me word saying that you failed in your spelling lesson to-day. What was the cause of this?" JACK. "I guess, papa, I was spell-bound." * * * * * THE VERY BEST ZOO OF ALL. When daddy's made our bread for us, and comes back home at night, We often have a lot of fun at playing pillow fight; And sometimes when he's not too tired, and isn't feeling blue, He'll get down on the floor with me, and play that he's a zoo. He'll roar and growl and shake his head as if he were a bear, And do it so it really gives my nerves a little scare; And then I climb in mamma's lap, where I'll be safe and sound, And listen to his growling as he ambles all around. Then on a sudden he will change into a tiger bold, And make believe to bite my feet until my blood runs cold, But when he turns himself into a great long-necked giraffe, And nibbles at the chandelier, oh my, how I do laugh! And then he takes his collar off and stretches out his throat, And shoves a sofa pillow up his back beneath his coat, And cries, "Come see the camel now, come watch him prance and jump! And don't forget to fix your eye upon that massive hump!" But best of all the game is when he gets down on all-fours, And 'tends that he's an elephant, and walks out through the doors In search of peanuts, peering round on each and every side, For then I get aboard his back and have a jolly ride. I've been to lots of circuses--I go 'most every year, And see real zoos of every kind from lands both far and near; But never did I see a zoo so really out of sight As that that my dear daddy is, when he comes home at night. GASTON V. DRAKE. * * * * * Hibernating [Illustration] Said the little Jap doll on the mantel, Addressing an art-loving bear Who was whittled from wood by a Swiss lad, "You're bearish enough, I declare!" "You keep your back turned ever toward me Nor care if I laugh or I weep!" The little wood bear never answered --'Twas winter and he was asleep. End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, January 14, 1896, by Various