Spaces:
Sleeping
Sleeping
| Produced by Geetu Melwani and the Online Distributed | |
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| A PHENOMENAL FAUNA | |
| BY | |
| CAROLYN WELLS | |
| WITH PICTURES | |
| BY | |
| OLIVER HEREFORD | |
| [Illustration] | |
| Copyright, 1901, 1902 | |
| By LIFE PUBLISHING COMPANY | |
| _New York_ | |
| By ROBERT HOWARD RUSSELL | |
| [Illustration] | |
| To My Godfather | |
| WILLIAM F. CLARKE | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE REG'LAR LARK | |
| The Reg'lar Lark's a very gay old Bird; | |
| At sunrise often may his voice be heard | |
| As jauntily he wends his homeward way, | |
| And trills a fresh and merry roundelay. | |
| And some old, wise philosopher has said: | |
| Rise with a lark, and with a lark to bed. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE HUMBUG | |
| Although a learned Entomologist | |
| May doubt if Humbugs really do exist, | |
| Yet each of us, I'm sure, can truly say | |
| We've seen a number of them in our day. | |
| But are they real?--well, a mind judicial | |
| Perhaps would call them false and artificial. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE POPPYCOCK | |
| The Poppycock's a fowl of English breed, | |
| And therefore many think him fine indeed. | |
| Credulous people's ears he would regale, | |
| And so he crows aloud and spreads his tale. | |
| But he is stuffed with vain and worthless words; | |
| Fine feathers do not always make fine birds. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE HAYCOCK | |
| The Haycock cannot crow; he has no brains, | |
| No,--not enough to go in when it rains. | |
| He is not gamy,--fighting's not his forte, | |
| A Haycock fight is just no sort of sport. | |
| Down in the meadow all day long he'll bide, | |
| (That is a little hay-hen by his side.) | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE POWDER MONKEY | |
| A Theory, by scientists defended, | |
| Declares that we from monkeys are descended. | |
| This being thus, we therefore clearly see | |
| The Powder-Monkey heads some pedigree. | |
| Ah, yes,--from him descend by evolution, | |
| The Dames and Daughters of the Revolution. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE TREE CALF | |
| The sportive Tree Calf here we see, | |
| He builds his nest up in a tree; | |
| To this strange dwelling-place he cleaves | |
| Because he is so fond of leaves. | |
| 'Twas his ancestral cow, I trow, | |
| Jumped o'er the moon, so long ago. | |
| But he is not so great a rover, | |
| Though at the last he runs to cover. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE MILITARY FROG | |
| The Military Frog, as well you know, | |
| Is the famed one who would a-wooing go. | |
| And on the soldier's manly breast displayed, | |
| He wins the heart of every blushing maid. | |
| But, as a frog, I think he's incomplete, | |
| He has no good hind legs that we may eat. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE FEATHER BOA | |
| This animal of which I speak | |
| Is a most curious sort of freak. | |
| Though Serpent would its form describe, | |
| Yet it is of the feathered tribe. | |
| And 'tis the snake, I do believe, | |
| That tempted poor old Mother Eve, | |
| For never woman did exist | |
| Who could its subtle charm resist. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE BRICK BAT | |
| Oft through the stillness of the summer night | |
| We see the Brick Bat take his rapid flight. | |
| And, with unerring aim, descending straight, | |
| He meets a cat on the back garden gate. | |
| The little Brick Bat could not fly alone,-- | |
| Oh, no; there is a power behind the thrown. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE CAT O' NINE TAILS | |
| The Cat O' Nine Tails is not very nice,-- | |
| No good at all at catching rats and mice; | |
| She eats no fish, though living on the sea, | |
| And no one's friend or pet she seems to be. | |
| Yet oft she makes it lively for poor Jack,-- | |
| Curls round his legs, and jumps upon his back. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE ROUND ROBIN | |
| Here's the Round Robin, round as any ball; | |
| You scarce can see his head or tail at all. | |
| He's not a carrier-pigeon, though he brings | |
| Important messages beneath his wings. | |
| And 'tis this freak of ornithology | |
| They mean who say, "A little bird told me." | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE IRON SPIDER | |
| The Iron Spider is an insect strange, | |
| He loves to stand upon a red-hot range. | |
| Unlike his race, he's not an octoped, | |
| He has but three legs and he has no head. | |
| Had this but been the kind Miss Muffet saw | |
| 'Twould not have filled the maiden with such awe. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE BOOKWORM | |
| The Bookworm's an uninteresting grub, | |
| Whether he's all alone or in a club. | |
| Of stupid books which seem to us a bore, | |
| The Bookworm will devour the very core. | |
| Did Solomon or somebody affirm | |
| The early reed-bird catches the bookworm? | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE BLACK SHEEP | |
| The Black Sheep is a beast all men should shun-- | |
| He has no fleece yet fleeces every one; | |
| Though without horns, oft with a horn he's seen; | |
| Though not a lamb, he gambles on the green. | |
| Perhaps he's not a sheep, as some suggest, | |
| But a grim wolf who's in sheep's clothing dressed. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| TIME FLIES | |
| Time Flies are well-known insects; sages claim | |
| That Tempus Fugit is their rightful name. | |
| When we're on idleness or pleasure bent, | |
| They sting our conscience and our fun prevent. | |
| We hear them winter mornings ere we rise, | |
| And oft in fly-time we observe Time Flies. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE APPLE BEE | |
| In country villages is found | |
| The Apple Bee with buzzing sound. | |
| And when our ears it does regale | |
| We find a sting is in its tale. | |
| As to its food,--the Apple Bee | |
| Is fond of doughnuts, cheese and tea. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE WELSH RABBIT | |
| See the Welsh Rabbit--he is bred on cheese; | |
| (Or cheese on bread, whichever way you please.) | |
| Although he's tough, he looks so mild, who'd think | |
| That a strong man from this small beast would shrink? | |
| But close behind him follows the nightmare, | |
| Beware of them, they are a frightful pair. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE CRICKET BAT | |
| The Cricket Bat is very often seen | |
| Flying perchance around the village green; | |
| But unlike many other bats, its flight | |
| Is always made by day and not by night. | |
| There may be one exception though,--and that | |
| Is when it's aimed at some stray neighboring Cat. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE COMMON SWALLOW | |
| The Common Swallow is so swift of flight, | |
| We scarcely see him ere he's out of sight. | |
| One does not make a summer, it is true, | |
| But many of them cause a fall or two. | |
| The Swallow's strong when he is in his prime, | |
| And yet a man can down him every time. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE TOMAHAWK | |
| The Tomahawk's a fearsome bird, we deem; | |
| Though feathered tribes hold him in great esteem; | |
| A bird of prey, he whizzes through the air, | |
| And clutches his pale victim by the hair. | |
| Gory and grewsome,--he is the mainstay | |
| Of the historic novel of to-day. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE JAIL-BIRD | |
| This is a Jail-bird. Isn't it a shame | |
| To keep him in a cage and try to tame | |
| His wild desires for freedom? See him droop | |
| Behind his bars. He wants to fly the coop. | |
| But to beguile his tedious, lonely hours | |
| Kind ladies bring him nosegays of bright flowers. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE ROYAL SEAL | |
| This noble beast's impressive form is seen | |
| 'Mong the possessions of a king or queen. | |
| Hard-favored, yet so valuable is he, | |
| He's ever kept beneath a lock and key. | |
| And, since his temper can't find vent in speech, | |
| He stamps and punches everything in reach. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE FIRE DOGS | |
| Here are two Fire Dogs--they are queer, indeed; | |
| They seem to come of a three-legged breed. | |
| They have no tails, their bark is on their back; | |
| They hunt in couples, never in a pack. | |
| The day's work over, 'tis a pleasant sight | |
| To find them waiting by the fire at night. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE MACKEREL KIT | |
| This funny little Mackerel Kit | |
| Is not like other cats a bit; | |
| She cannot mew or scratch or purr, | |
| She has no whiskers and no fur. | |
| Yet, like all cats, her dearest wish | |
| Is just to be filled up with fish; | |
| But (and this isn't so feline) | |
| She always takes them steeped in brine. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| GOLF LYNX | |
| This is the merry Golf Lynx, as you see; | |
| An amiable beast, and fond of tee. | |
| Indigenous to all the country round, | |
| His snaky length lies prone along the ground. | |
| It is the fashion o'er this beast to rave, | |
| But have a care, lest you become his slave. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE TRAVELING CRANE | |
| The Traveling Crane's a bird, of course, | |
| Yet he possesses wondrous force. | |
| A bird of burden he must be, | |
| He lifts and pulls so mightily. | |
| And sometimes he will grasp his prey, | |
| And with it rise and soar away. | |
| His plumage is not fine, but then, | |
| He's of the greatest use to men. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE FLYING BUTTRESS | |
| The Flying Buttress, every day and night, | |
| Continues in his long, unwearied flight. | |
| He's not a song-bird, but he's said to be | |
| Famed for his beauty and his Symmetry. | |
| He frequents an old abbey or a manse; | |
| The ostrich eats him if he gets a chance. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE SEA PUSS | |
| In ocean waters the Sea Puss is found, | |
| Cat-like, forever chasing round and round. | |
| She has no claws, but crouching sly and low | |
| She stealthily puts out her undertow. | |
| And when an old seadog comes in her way | |
| I'll warrant you there is the deuce to pay! | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE BATTERING RAM | |
| This is the Battering Ram, a fearful beast, | |
| I think he weighs a thousand tons at least. | |
| Stronger than any other kind of butter, | |
| He goes his way calmly, without a flutter. | |
| Big as an elephant, bigger than a horse, | |
| He seems the best example of brute force. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE SPRING CHICKEN | |
| Here's the Spring Chicken. I have heard | |
| They manufacture this queer bird | |
| From bits of leather and of strings | |
| All joined and worked by tiny springs. | |
| Whenever this fine fowl is broiled, | |
| Each of his springs should be well oiled, | |
| Or he may spring across the room | |
| And plunge his carver into gloom. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE SHUTTLECOCK | |
| The Shuttlecock's a handsome fowl to see, | |
| His feathers grow straight upward like a tree. | |
| He cannot crow, but oftentimes his flight | |
| Will reach up to a most astounding height. | |
| He is a gamecock, and, in fighting trim, | |
| There are not many birds that equal him. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE SAW-BUCK | |
| The Saw-Buck is a fearsome beast. | |
| The tramp objects to it, at least. | |
| When to the housewife he applies | |
| For coffee or for apple-pies, | |
| Right speedily he'll turn and leave her | |
| When he is seized with Saw-Buck Fever. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE PIGEON TOAD | |
| The Pigeon Toad's a funny little beast, | |
| He's found in every land from West to East. | |
| The children bring him in, to our amaze, | |
| And though we try to turn him out, he stays. | |
| He's never seen with soldiers, nor with fops, | |
| But with the schoolboys how he jumps and hops. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE GOLDEN BUCK | |
| Perhaps because it's easily approached, | |
| The Golden Buck's a game that's often poached. | |
| 'Tis sometimes mild, again 'tis strong and hearty, | |
| It may be found at many a gay stag-party. | |
| No branching antlers this strange beast adorn, | |
| But with the Golden Buck we take a horn. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE BUMBLE PUPPY | |
| This is the Bumblepuppy. He's quite tame, | |
| Although he's said to be a sort of game. | |
| You scorn him, yet you must--ah, there's the rub-- | |
| Accept him at your table or your club. | |
| He has his points, yet he's a pest, indeed; | |
| I would we could exterminate the breed. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE WATCH DOG | |
| This useful animal we keep | |
| To guard our treasure while we sleep. | |
| A pointer, not a setter, yet | |
| He's of no use unless he's set. | |
| Gaze on his open, honest face,-- | |
| There's no deception in his case. | |
| He is attached to us, 'tis plain, | |
| Though often by a slender chain. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE GOLD EAGLE | |
| Here's the Gold Eagle. Very rare. They say | |
| This bird is worth ten dollars any day. | |
| He has no wings, apparently, yet I | |
| Or you, or anyone can make him fly. | |
| He's very powerful--held in great esteem; | |
| And money talks, so let the eagle scream. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE BUGBEAR | |
| Of all the fearsome beasts beneath the sun | |
| The Bugbear is the most appalling one. | |
| At night he comes and hovers o'er our bed, | |
| Filling us with a nameless fear and dread. | |
| He is not half so terrible by day-- | |
| Sometimes he shrinks and dwindles quite away. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE IRISH BULL | |
| Among the stock jokes it is oft averred | |
| The Irish Bull is best of all the heard. | |
| He has no points, he has no head or tail, | |
| But many a jovial party he'll regale. | |
| And all his hearers will with laughter choke, | |
| Except his brother John, who sees no joke. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE JAY | |
| 'Tis very strange, and yet, upon my word, | |
| This silly fellow thinks he is a bird! | |
| He lives on hayseed,--everywhere he's found, | |
| But in the country he does most abound. | |
| And at the approach of winter, (more's the pity), | |
| A flock of jays will migrate to the city. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| FOREBEARS | |
| Misled by certain signs of form and shape, | |
| Some think we are descended from the ape. | |
| But recent science now the truth declares | |
| The human race descended from Forebears. | |
| And since we're so inclined to war, I'll wager | |
| One of our Forebears was the Ursa Major. | |
| [Illustration] | |
| THE HIGH HORSE | |
| The High Horse often takes a foremost place | |
| Among the winners of the human race. | |
| They say one needs both brawn and brain to ride him, | |
| And even then 'tis very hard to guide him. | |
| His jockeys gaily prance and boldly scoff, | |
| But soon or late they're sure to tumble off. | |
| The End. | |
| * * * * * | |
| Books By | |
| CAROLYN WELLS | |
| Children of Our Town | |
| Abeniki Caldwell | |
| The Merry-Go-Round | |
| A Phenomenal Fauna | |