I hate my geography lesson!
It's nothing but nonsense and names;
To bother me so every morning,
It's really the greatest of shames.
The brooks, they flow into the rivers,
And the rivers flow into the sea;
I hope, for my part, they enjoy it,
But what does it matter to me?
Of late, even more I've disliked it,
And more disagreeable it seems,
Ever since the sad evening last winter,
When I had that most frightful of dreams.
I thought that a great horrid monster
Stood suddenly there in my room—
A frightful Geography Demon,
Enveloped in darkness and gloom;
His body and head like a mountain,
A volcano on top for a hat;
His arms and his legs were like rivers,
With a brook round his neck for cravat.
He laid on my poor trembling shoulder
His fingers, cold, clammy and long;
And fixing his red eyes upon me,
He roared forth this horrible song:
"Come! come! rise and come
Away to the banks of the Muskingum!
It flows o'er the plains of Timbuctoo,
With the peak of Teneriffe just in view.
And the cataracts leap in the pale moonshine,
As they dance o'er the cliffs of Brandywine.
"Flee! flee! rise and flee
Away to the banks of the Tombigbee!
We'll pass by Alaska's flowery strand,
Where the emerald towers of Pekin stand;
We'll pass them by, and will rest awhile
On Michillimackinac's tropic isle;
While the apes of Barbary frisk around,
And the parrots crow with a lovely sound.
"Hie! hie! rise and hie
Away to the banks of the Yang-tze-ki!
There the giant mountains of Oshkosh stand,
And the icebergs gleam through the falling sand;
ts on the palm-tree high,
And the cannibals feast on bad-boy pie.
"Go! go! rise and go
Away to the banks of the Hoang-ho
There the Chickasaw sachem makes his tea,
And the kettle boils and waits for thee.
We'll smite thee, ho! and we'll lay thee low,
On the beautiful banks of the Hoang-ho!"
These terrible words were still sounding
Like trumpets and drums through my head,
When the monster clutched tighter my shoulder,
And dragged me half out of the bed.
In terror, I clung to the bed-post;
But the faithless bed-post, it broke.
I screamed out aloud in my anguish,
And suddenly—well, I awoke.
He was gone. But I cannot forget him,
The fearful Geography Sprite.
He has my first thought in the morning,
He has my last shudder at night.
Do you blame me for hating my lesson?
Is it strange that it frightful should seem?
Or that I more and more should abhor it
Since I had that most horrible dream?

THE TOWER MOUNTAIN

By Gustavus Frankenstein.

II.

When I reached the crowd of monkeys who were making such a noise and were evidently in such trouble, I soon saw what was the matter. A very large monkey had his claws fastened in the back of a much smaller one, and was biting him in the shoulder—the little fellow shrieking, and the others dreadfully excited, yet hesitating to come to the rescue.

What are monkeys compared to a man? I rushed in, seized the ruffian by the throat, which loosened his hold upon the weaker party, and hurling him with all my force against the ground, broke his ugly skull upon the rock on which it struck.

Then, such a yell of delight as went up from that motley monkey crew! It was simply indescribable. This was immediately followed by an immense amount of jabbering, as they gathered in little groups, no doubt discussing the merits of the action and the valor of the hero. Doubtless the monkey I had slain was a great tyrant over the others, by reason of his superior size and strength, and they were congratulating one another upon their deliverance from his hated rule.

His last victim—poor little fellow!—I raised from the ground, washed his wounds, and, gathering some plantain-leaves, placed them carefully over the lacerated flesh, and bound them on snugly and firmly with strips of palm-leaf.

The little creature looked at me very affectionately, evincing by his expression the deepest gratitude.