A certain learned professor in New York has a wife and family, but, professor-like, his thoughts are always with his books.
One evening his wife, who had been out for some hours, returned to find the house remarkably quiet. She had left the children playing about, but now they were nowhere to be seen.
She demanded to be told what had become of them, and the professor explained that, as they had made a good deal of noise, he had put them to bed without waiting for her or calling a maid.
"I hope they gave you no trouble," she said.
"No," replied the professor, "with the exception of the one in the cot here. He objected a good deal to my undressing him and putting him to bed."
The wife went to inspect the cot.
"Why," she exclaimed, "that's little Johnny Green, from next door."
FIVE LIVES
Five mites of monads dwelt in a round drop
That twinkled on a leaf by a pool in the sun.
To the naked eye they lived invisible;
Specks, for a world of whom the empty shell
Of a mustard-seed had been a hollow sky.