A Child's Primer Of Natural History. Herford Oliver

      SEE, chil-dren, the Fur-bear-ing Seal;

      Ob-serve his mis-di-rect-ed zeal:

      He dines with most ab-ste-mi-ous care

      On Fish, Ice Water and Fresh Air

      A-void-ing cond-i-ments or spice,

      For fear his fur should not be nice

      And fine and smooth and soft and meet

      For Broad-way or for Re-gent Street

      And yet some-how I of-ten feel

      (Though for the kind Fur-bear-ing Seal

      I har-bor a Re-spect Pro-found)

      SEE the Gi-raffe; he is so tall

      There is not room to get him all

      U-pon the page. His head is high-er —

      The pic-ture proves it – than the Spire.

      That's why the na-tives, when they race

      To catch him, call it stee-ple-chase.

      His chief de-light it is to set

      A good example: shine or wet

      He rises ere the break of day,

      And starts his break-fast right away.

      His food has such a way to go, —

      His throat's so very long, – and so

      An early break-fast he must munch

      To get it down ere time for lunch.

      THIS is the Yak, so neg-li-gée:

      His coif-fure's like a stack of hay;

      He lives so far from Any-where,

      I fear the Yak neg-lects his hair,

      And thinks, since there is none to see,

      What mat-ter how un-kempt he be.

      How would he feel if he but knew

      That in this Pic-ture-book I drew

      His Phys-i-og-no-my un-shorn,

      For chil-dren to de-ride and scorn?

      THE con-sci-en-tious art-ist tries

      On-ly to draw what meets his eyes.

      This is the Whale; he seems to be

      A spout of wa-ter in the sea.

      Now, Hux-ley from one bone could make

      An un-known beast; so if I take

      This spout of wa-ter, and from thence

      Con-struct a Whale by in-fer-ence,

      A Whale, I ven-ture to as-sert,

      Must be an an-i-mat-ed squirt!

      Thus, chil-dren, we the truth may sift

      By use of Log-ic's Price-less Gift.

      THIS is the Le-o-pard, my child;

      His tem-per's any-thing but mild.

      The Le-o-pard can't change his spots,

      And that – so say the Hot-ten-tots —

      Is why he is so wild.

      Year in, year out, he may not change,

      No mat-ter how the wea-ther range,

      From cold to hot. No won-der, child,

      We hear the Le-o-pard is wild.

      THE Sloth en-joys a life of Ease;

      He hangs in-vert-ed from the trees,

      And views life up-side down.

      If you, my child, are noth-ing loath

      To live in In-dol-ence and Sloth,

      Un-heed-ing the World's frown,

      You, too, un-vexed by Toil and Strife,

      May take a hu-mor-ous view of life.

      THIS is the El-e-phant, who lives

      With but one aim – to please.

      His i-vo-ry tusk he free-ly gives

      To make pi-a-no keys.

      One grief he has – how-e'er he tries,

      He nev-er can for-get

      That one of his e-nor-mous size