To the nursery now comes mother, at last,—
And what in her hand is she bringing so fast?
'T is a plateful of something, all yellow and white,
And she sings as she comes, with her smile so bright:
"'T is the best bread and butter I ever did see,
And it is for Alice's supper—he! he!"
JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.
"Warm!" you say?
Don't mention it, but take it good-naturedly.
And, now, let's be quiet and have a talk about
HEARING FLIES WALK.
"Ho, ho; nobody can do that!"
But anybody can do that,—with a microphone.
"And what's a microphone?"