Part 67

So the Fox he hurried home to his den, To his dear little foxes eight, nine, ten. Says he, "We're in luck, here's a big fat duck With her legs dangling down behind O!"

Then the Fox sat down with his hungry wife, And they made a good meal without fork or knife. They never had a better time in all their life, And the little ones picked the bones O!

THREE COMPANIONS

BY DINAH MARIA MULOCK-CRAIK

We go on our walk together-- Baby and dog and I-- Three little merry companions, 'Neath any sort of sky Blue as our baby's eyes are, Gray like our old dog's tail; Be it windy or cloudy or stormy, Our courage will never fail.

Baby's a little lady; Dog is a gentleman brave; If he had two legs as you have, He'd kneel to her like a slave; As it is, he loves and protects her, As dog and gentleman can. I'd rather be a kind doggie, I think, than a cruel man.

"'FRAID CAT!"

BY FRANK MUNRO

To Pussy-town, the other day, The movies came. And you must know, The only chance mice have to play Is when the cats Go to the show!

(Yes, mice have certain little "rights"-- Though I confess 'Em hard to see! And one is to stay up o' nights And steal our cheese-- If cheese there be!)

Well, in the playhouse, on the screen, The pussies saw (And so may you) True love run smoothly, I ween: But "also ran," A dog in blue!

The foolish cats, in great alarm, Dashed out, nor Asked for money back!-- A dog policeman has no charm When he is close Upon one's track!

They did not use their heads. I fear; (Some boys and girls Are just like that) And so the pussies now must hear The grown folks say "'Fraid cat! 'Fraid cat!"

THE SPIDER AND THE FLY

BY MARY HOWITT

"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the Spider to the Fly, "'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy; The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, And I have many curious things to show when you are there." "Oh, no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain; For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high; Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly. "There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin; And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!" "Oh, no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said, They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, "Dear friend, what can I do To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you? I have, within my pantry, good store of all that's nice; I'm sure you're very welcome--will you please to take a slice?" "Oh, no, no," said the little Fly, "kind sir, that cannot be, I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature," said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise; How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes! I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf; If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself." "I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say, And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den, For well he knew the silly Fly would soon be back again; So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly, And set his table ready to dine upon the Fly. Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing: "Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing; Your robes are green and purple, there's a crest upon your head; Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead."

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by: With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew-- Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue; Thinking only of her crested head--poor foolish thing! At last, Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast. He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den Within his little parlor--but she ne'er came out again!

#Everyday Verses#

BY ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE

PICTURES BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE

A LITTLE GENTLEMAN

When Mother drops things on the floor, My father asks me: "Who Should always pick them up for her?" And so I always do.

He says I haven't far to reach And that a gentleman Must do things for his Mother And be helpful as he can.

But Mother bends down just the same,-- She has to, don't you see? For after she's said "Thank you, dear," She stoops and kisses me.