The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter “Little Prig.” Bun replied: “You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together To make up a year And a sphere; And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I am not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I’ll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back Neither can you crack a nut!” —_Ralph Waldo Emerson._ _Solomon Grundy._ [Illustration] Solomon Grundy, Born on a Monday, Christened on Tuesday, Married on Wednesday, Took ill on Thursday, Worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday. This is the end Of Solomon Grundy. _Baa, Baa, Black Sheep._ [Illustration] Baa, baa, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes, marry, have I, Three bags full; One for my master, And one for my dame, But none for the little boy Who cries in the lane. [Illustration] _Bell-Horses, Bell-Horses._ Bell-Horses, bell-horses, What time of day? One o’clock, two o’clock, Off and away. THE FIELD MOUSE AND THE TOWN MOUSE. A Field Mouse had a friend who lived in a house in town. Now the Town Mouse was asked by the Field Mouse to dine with him, and out he went and sat down to a meal of corn and wheat. “Do you know, my friend,” said he, “that you live a mere ant’s life out here? Why, I have all kinds of things at home; come and enjoy them.” So the two set off for town, and there the Town Mouse showed his beans and meal, his dates, too; his cheese and fruit and honey. And as the Field Mouse ate, drank, and was merry, he thought how rich his friend was and how poor he was. But as they ate, a man all at once opened the door, and the mice were in such fear that they ran into a crack. Then when they would eat some nice figs, in came a maid to get a pot of honey or a bit of cheese; and when they saw her, they hid in a hole. Then the Field Mouse would eat no more, but said to the Town Mouse: “Do as you like, my good friend; eat all you want, have your fill of good things, but you are always in fear of your life. As for me, poor Mouse, who have only corn and wheat, I will live on at home, in no fear of any one.” —_Aesop._ [Illustration] A DUTCH WINTER. [Illustration] The windmills of Holland are silent and stilled, Their whirling has ceased, for their long arms are chilled. The ice-prisoned boats are hung with a lace Of Flemish design of most delicate grace. While the watchman calls out, with a voice like a bell, The time by the tower, and adds, “All is well.”