A MOTHER WITH TWO MILLION CHILDREN.
No, not the old woman who lived in a shoe,—though old parties of the kind I mean have been found with their houses fixed to old rubber high-boots,—but a quiet old mother, who never utters a word, and whose house is all door-way, as I'm told. Every year she opens the door and turns two million wee bairns upon the world.
Away they rush, the door snaps shut behind them, and they can never come back any more! They don't seem to mind that very much, however, for they go dancing away in countless armies, without ever jostling, or meeting, or even touching one another.
And how large a ball-room do you suppose a troop of them would need? One drop of water is large enough for thousands upon thousands of them to sport in!
The mother is the oyster, and her children are the little oysters, and a curious family they must be, if all this is true, as I'm led to believe.