If you want to see all sorts of wonderful things, Stuffed crocodiles, mammoths, and sloths, Hairy ducks with four feet, and fishes with wings, Fat beetles, and strange spotted moths; And enormous winged bulls with long beards, carved in stone, Dug up from Assyria's sand, And old blackened mummies as dry as a bone, Discovered in Egypt's lone land, And beautiful statues from Greece and from Rome, And other fine things without end,-- You will find you can see half the world here at home, If a day in this place you will spend. The Underground Railway Who is this in the Weighing Chair? Why, little Dot, I do declare! Three stone five! "So much as that?" Calls out Miss Dot; "then I _must_ be fat!" On this and the opposite page you see Dot's mother, and brother, and sisters three. They wait for an underground train to come And carry them swiftly back to their home. Wonderful trains! From morn till night, Clattering through tunnels without daylight, Hither and thither they run, up and down, Beneath the streets of London Town. Many prefer these trains instead Of the cabs and "Busses" overhead, For they run much faster than horses can. Miss Dot's papa is a busy man, And goes to the City every day By the "Underground,"--the quickest way: And One Hundred Millions of people, 'tis found, Are carried each year by the "Underground." The Zoological Gardens Away we go to the famous Zoo' With Bertie, and Nellie, and Dick, and Sue. And we feel quite ready to jump for glee When the wonderful birds and beasts we see. The pelican solemn with monster beak, And the plump little penguin round and sleek, Have set us laughing--Ha, ha! Ho! ho! And you'll laugh too, if you look below. To the monkey-house then we make our way, Where the monkeys chatter, and climb, and play; At the snakes we peep, then onward stroll, To talk to the parrots, and "scratch a poll," And after all that, there will still be time On the patient elephant's back to climb. The Bear & the Buns Don't forget at the Zoo' To take a good view Of the funny old bear, Who climbs out of his lair Up a pole--Look, he's here, With his figure so queer, And his thick clumsy paws, And his bun-seeking jaws. On the end of a stick Place a bun--"Now quick, Master Bertie"--and, snap!-- What an awful red trap!-- The bun's out of sight, But one more will delight Father Bruin up there, For his appetite's rare, And he never says "No" To a dozen or so. The Milk Woman "Milk o! Milk o!" Each morn she cries, And little sleepers Ope their eyes, And wonder if pure milk is sold By Betty here, for they've been told That London milk (How people talk!) Is only water Mixed with chalk!