MISS B.--Good-by, Mrs. Chipmunk

Mrs. C.—Oh, must you fly? Then, a pleasant journey!

MISS B.—Good-by!

MRS. C.—Good-by!

THE PROFESSOR. Tell me, little violet white, If you will be so polite, Tell me how it came that you Lost your pretty purple hue? Were you blanched with sudden fears? Were you bleached with fairies’ tears? Or was Dame Nature out of blue, Violet, when she came to you?

THE VIOLET. Tell me, silly mortal, first, Ere I satisfy your thirst For the truth concerning me— Why you are not like a tree? Tell me why you move around, Trying different kinds of ground, With your funny legs and boots In the place of proper roots?

Tell me, mortal, why your head, Where green branches ought to spread, Is as shiny smooth as glass, With just a fringe of frosty grass? Tell me—Why, he’s gone away! Wonder why he wouldn’t stay? Can he be—well, I declare!— Sensitive about his hair?

“Oh, dear! is summer over?” I heard a rosebud moan, When first her eyes she opened, And found she was alone.

“Oh, why did summer leave me, Little me, belated? Where are the other roses? I think they might have waited!”

Soon the little rosebud Saw to her surprise Other roses opening, So she dried her eyes.

Then I heard her laughing Gaily in the sun, “I thought the summer over; Why, it’s only just begun!”

Under a toadstool Crept a wee Elf, Out of the rain To shelter himself.

Under the toadstool, Sound asleep, Sat a big Dormouse All in a heap.

Trembled the wee Elf, Frightened, and yet Fearing to fly away Lest he get wet.

To the next shelter— Maybe a mile! Sudden the wee Elf Smiled a wee smile,

Tugged till the toadstool Toppled in two. Holding it over him Gaily he flew.

Soon he was safe home Dry as could be. Soon woke the Dormouse— “Good gracious me!

Where is my toadstool?” Loud he lamented. —And that’s how umbrellas, First were invented.

A crocodile once dropped a line To a Fox to invite him to dine; But the Fox wrote to say He was dining, that day, With a Bird friend, and begged to decline.

She sent off at once to a Goat. “Pray don’t disappoint me,” she wrote; But he answered too late, He’d forgotten the date, Having thoughtlessly eaten her note.

The Crocodile thought him ill-bred, And invited two Rabbits instead; But the Rabbits replied, They were hopelessly tied By a previous engagement, and fled.

Then she wrote in despair to some Eels, And begged them to “drop in” to meals; But the Eels left their cards With their coldest regards, And took to what went for their heels.

Cried the Crocodile then, in disgust, “My motives they seem to mistrust. Their suspicions are base, Since they don’t know their place,— I suppose if I must starve, I must!”