A Tale.
Mary was the proprietress of a diminutive incipient sheep, whose outer covering was as devoid of colour as congealed atmospheric vapour, and to all localities to which Mary perambulated, her young South-down was morally sure to follow. It tagged her to the dispensary of learning one diurnal section of time, which was contrary to all precedent, and excited cachinnation to the seminary attendants when they perceived the presence of a young mutton at the establishment of instruction. Consequently the preceptor expelled him from the interior, but he continued to remain in the immediate vicinity, without fretfulness, until Mary once more became visible.
“What caused this specimen of the genus ovis to bestow so much affection on Mary?” the impetuous progeny vociferated.
“Because Mary reciprocated the wool-producer’s esteem, you understand,” the teacher answered.
——:o:——
Mary’s Little Lamb.
Verses culled from different Authors.
Oh, who has not heard of Sweet Mary’s pet sheep,
With fleece like the lilies by Alaway’s stream,
When the day on the breast of the night falls asleep