Tinkle, Tinkle, Mister Ninkum, I am merry, Bob O’ Linkum! Prithee, tell me what’s the matter, That you’re making such a clatter-- Can’t you leave us, honest folks, To sing our songs and crack our jokes? It is cruel, Mr. Ninkum, Thus to bother Bob O’Linkum-- I had thought the meadow mine, With its blossoms all so fine, And I made my little nest ’Neath the clover, all so blest. But you come, oh naughty Ninkum, All unheeding Bob O’Linkum-- And you swing your saucy blade Where my little nest is made-- And you cut the blooming clover, Which did wrap my young ones over. Get you gone, oh ugly Ninkum-- Leave the field to Bob O’Linkum; Let him on his light wing hover O’er the summer scented clover-- Let him sing his merry song, And he’ll thank you all day long. MERRY’S MUSEUM. VOLUME IV.--No. 2. [Illustration] The Sense of Touch. The sensations of smelling, tasting, hearing, and seeing, are conveyed by distinct organs, severally devoted to these objects, and all confined to the head. But the sense of _touch_, or _feeling_, extends over almost every part of the body. Though we may call every sensation _feeling_, yet what is properly denominated the sensation of _touch_, consists of the feeling or sensation excited by bodies brought in contact with the skin, and especially the tips of the fingers. It is by the sense of touch, that men and other animals are able to perceive certain external qualities of objects. It is by this sense that we acquire ideas of hardness, softness, roughness, smoothness, heat and cold, weight and pressure, form and distance. The accuracy of this sense is much improved by habit. In some cases, when persons have become deaf or blind, the sense of touch has grown so acute as partially to supply the loss of the sense of seeing or hearing. Blind persons have sometimes been able to determine the qualities of objects, with wonderful accuracy, by touch, and even to distinguish the colors of cloths, by being able to discriminate between the substances used in giving these their hues. Merry’s Adventures. CHAPTER XXI. With a heavy and doubting heart, I proceeded on my way to New York. My situation was, in every respect, gloomy and depressing. I was alone in the world, and utterly unpractised in taking care of myself. I was cast forth to work my way in the rough voyage of life. I was like a person, who, while sailing confidently upon a raft, sees it suddenly sink in the waves, leaving him no other resource than to swim for his life, and that too, without preparation or practice.