Sly Reynard, not tired,
Her plumage admired,
How charming! how brilliant its hue!
The voice must be fine
Of a bird so divine,
"So pray, let me hear it, now do!
"Believe me, I long
To hear a sweet song."
The silly crow foolishly tries,
But she scarce gave one caw,
When the cheese she let fall,
And the fox ran off with the prize.
Especially for Me.—Last Christmas I was distributing the prizes at the Upper Kennington Lane Board School. I wound up with an exhortation to the boys to be good during the coming year. Said I: "Now, boys, see that when I come again next Christmas I shall hear an excellent account of you, and shall not have to be told that you have got into any trouble or mischief. "Same to you, sir!" shouted the whole school with one accord. Whether this was quiet humour or a mechanical reply to the time-honoured "Merry Christmas, boys!" which they had taken my final words to imply I cannot say. But I am trying to live up to the injunction as this little book attests.
The Animal Kingdom.—Teacher: "Yes, children, we are animals. Quite right. How do you know we are animals?" Tommy: "Because it says we are Jesus's lambs!"
Loyal Subjects.—Teacher: "What did the angels sing when they came to the shepherds?" Little One: "God save our Gracious King!"
Need for Caution.—One morning the curate of the parish visited the village school to conduct the usual morning service. He proceeded to give a lesson to the upper standards on "Regeneration." He commenced by asking the class if any of them could tell him the meaning of the word "Regeneration," but no reply was forthcoming. It therefore fell to the curate to define the word. He said, "Regeneration means to be born again." Addressing himself to one little fellow, the curate said, "Now, my little boy, wouldn't you like to be born again?" "No, I shouldn't," answered he. "For why?" asked the curate. The boy quickly responded, "Because I should be afraid of being a girl next time!"