DARWINISM IN THE KITCHEN.

Here my heart began to thump,

And no wonder I felt funky; For the frog, with one big jump, Leaped hisself into a monkey.

Then I opened wide my eyes,
His features for to scan,

And observed, with great surprise,
That that monkey was a man.

But he vanished from my sight,
And I sunk upon the floor,
Just as missus with a light

Come inside the kitching door.

Then, beginnin' to abuse me,

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She says, "Sarah, you've been drinkin'!" I says, "No, mum, you'll excuse me, But I've merely been a-thinkin'.

"But as sure as I'm a cinder,
That party what you see
A-gettin' out the winder

Have developed from a flea.”

UNKNOWN.

THE LITTLE PEACH.

A little peach in the orchard grew-
A little peach of emerald hue;
Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew,
It grew.

One day, passing the orchard through,
That little peach dawned on the view
Of Johnnie Jones and his sister Sue-

Those two.

Up at the peach a club he threw-
Down from the tree on which it grew
Fell the little peach of emerald hue-

She took a bite and he a chew,

Mon Dieu !

And then the trouble began to brew-
Trouble the doctor couldn't subdue,

Too true.

Under the turf where the daisies grew They planted John and his sister Sue And their little souls to the angels flew

Boo-hoo!

ANY ONE WILL DO.

But what of the peach of emerald hue,
Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew?
Ah, well, its mission on earth was through-

Adieu !

EUGENE FIELD.

ANY ONE WILL DO.

A maiden once, of certain age,
To catch a husband did engage;
But, having passed the prime of life
In striving to become a wife
Without success, she thought it time
To mend the follies of her prime.

Departing from the usual course
Of paint and such like for resource,
With all her might this ancient maid
Beneath an oak-tree knelt and prayed;
Unconscious that a grave old owl

Was perched above-the mousing fowl!

"Oh, give! a husband give!" she cried, "While yet I may become a bride;

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Soon will my day of grace be o'er,
And then, like many maids before,
I'll die without an early love,

And none to meet me there above!

"Oh, 'tis a fate too hard to bear!
Then answer this my humble prayer,
And oh, a husband give to me!"
Just then the owl from out the tree,

In deep base tones cried, "Who-who-who!" "Who, Lord? And dost thou ask me who? Why, any one, good Lord, will do."

UNKNOWN.

LINES BY AN OLD FOGY.

I'm thankful that the sun and moon
Are both hung up so high,
That no presumptuous hand can stretch
And pull them from the sky.
If they were not, I have no doubt

But some reforming ass

Would recommend to take them down

And light the world with gas.

UNKNOWN.

THE MAN WHO BRINGS THE ICE. 65

CONVERSATIONAL.

"How's your father?" came the whisper,
Bashful Ned the silence breaking;
"Oh, he's nicely," Annie murmured,
Smilingly the question taking.

Conversation flagged a moment,

Hopeless Ned essayed another: "Annie, I-I," then a coughing,

And the question, "How's your mother?"

"Mother? Oh, she's doing finely!" Fleeting fast was all forbearance, When in low, despairing accents,

Came the climax, "How's your parents?"

UNKNOWN.

THE MAN WHO BRINGS THE ICE.
(Suitable for reading in warm weather.)

The man with the melon is welcome still,
And the man with the cream is nice;
But the mellow fellow who fills the bill
Is the man who brings the ice :