NEW RHYMES FOR OLD CHILDREN.
The Snail.
The life of the snail is a fight against odds,
Though fought without fever or flummox;
You see, he is one of those gasteropods
Which have to proceed on their stomachs.
Just think how you'd hate to go round on your own,
Especially if it was gummy,
And wherever you travelled you left on a stone
The horrid imprint of your tummy!
Wherever you hid, by that glutinous trail
Some boring acquaintance would follow;
And this is the bitter complaint of the snail
Who is pestered to death by the swallow.
But remember, he carries his house on his back,
And that is a wonderful power;
When he goes to the sea he has nothing to pack,
And he cannot be caught in a shower.
After all there is something attractive in that;
And then he can move in a minute,
And it's something to have such a very small flat
That nobody else can get in it.
But this is what causes such numbers of snails
To throw themselves into abysses:—
They are none of them born to be definite males
And none of them definite misses.
They cannot be certain which one of a pair
Is the Daddy and which is the Mummy;
And that must be even more awful to bear
Than walking about on your tummy.
A.P.H.
"MOTHER OF 13 HAS TRIPLETS."—Daily Paper.
The unlucky age.