Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 June 1893 — LITTLE BOYS AND GIRLS. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

LITTLE BOYS AND GIRLS.

THIS IS THEIR DEPARTMENT OP THE PAPER. Quaint Sayings and Doings of Little Onas Gathered and Printod Here for Other Little Folk* to Keud. The Frog’s Song. Early one bright morning a little frog hopped from the water, opened his music-book and sang this very strange song: if I swallow you and you swallow me. Who’s going to swallow the humble-bee? He was about to sing another verse when a big pelican swooped down on him and froggy disappeared. After a while he popped his head up again, looking angry this time, for he was fond of that song and wished to finish it. So he began once more, “If I swallow you and and you swal” but he got no further, for swoop came the pelican, splash went the frog, and the pelican missed him again. “Oh, let him finish it,” said a sly old water-rat, who was combing his hair with a porcupine quill. “I don’t believe he knows the rest of it,” piped a small, wee frog, who was jealous of the other frog because he had green legs and a better voice. “I never did like that song,’’buzzed a fussy bumble-bee. “Swallow the bumble-bee, indeed! I’d stick something in him if he ever swallowed me!” Nobody blamed the bee in the least for talking so. They knew just how he must feel about it, and it is rather disagreeable to have any one swallow you, as everybody knows. After a while they all left but the crafty old rat, who, having finished his toilet, fastened his wicked little

eyes on the place where the frog disappeared and waited. Pretty soon froggy came up, peered cautiously around, and, seeing no one, he opened his mouth wide and began to sing: If I swallow you and you swallow me. Who's going to swallow the bumblo-bee? “Excuse me,” interrupted the rat, “did you ever swallow a bumblebee?” “Y'es, sir,” croaked the startled frog. “I have just swallowed one." “Don’t they hurt?” anxiously inquired the rat. “Not when you’re used to them,” replied the unsuspecting frog. “So glad to hear you say so, for I expect to swallow one myself very soon, but he will be seasoned with something nice, so I sha’n’t mind. ” Then he looked at the frog and licked his lips. “Now, will you please come a little closer,” said he, “and sing ail the verses of your charming song?” The frog, smiling from car to ear with pleasure, and bowing low to the rat, sang: If I swallow you and you swallow mo. Who’s going to swallow but, sad to relate, he never flnl-hed his song, for when he sang, “Who's going to swallow” the rat cried, “1 am!" and seizing poor froggy by the legs swallowed him, bumble-bee and all! Then he smiled a contented smile, and sat the rest of that day gazing dreamily in the water, laughing softly to hintself, and singing, “Ha, ha, ha! He, he, he! who’s swallowed froggy and his bumblebee?” until he went sound asleep, for it was now bedtime, and in his dreams he sang froggy’s song. Meanwhile the pelican had been sitting on a log near by watching, and as the rat sang: If I swallow you and you swallow me. Who’s going to swallow the' bumble-Lee? Said the pelican: Why. It’s plain to see, For I can quite easily swallow all three. And swooping down from the top of the log. Without any effort that one could see, Ho swallowed the rat that swallowed the frog Tb*t heartlessly swallowed the bumblobeo. —New York Recorder.

A Pergonal Compliment. Singers in church and elsewhere are not always careful as they ought to be to articulate their words distinctly. A little girl entered a meeting-house not long ago in New York just as the choir was singing the anthem. “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” said the singers; but the little girl, whose thoughts were somewhat preoccupied, did not catch the words correctly. After getting home she startled her aunt by saying: “I never saw such a nice choir. They stopped right in the middle of the anthem and spoke to me.” “Why, my dear,” said her auntie, “I didn’t notice it.” “But they did. You know I wore my new cloak, and as soon as I came In the choir said, ‘Hardly knew you!’ two or three times.”

Up to His Neck That Way. “I fell into the pond to-day, and it was up to my neck,” said Walter. “Nonsense!" said Jack. “The water in the pond isn't more than a foot deep.” “Ah, but I went in head first,” said W alter. She Was Enough. The wnall hoy was sitting on the doorstep whistling when the policeman came up. “Can I see your father?” inquired the officer. “No, you can’t,” replied the boy promptly. “Why can’t I?” “’Cause mam’s seein’ him, that’s why. ” The Bee'* Market-B s sket. Every bee carries his market-bas-ket around his hind legs. Any one examining the body of a bee through • microscope will observe that on the

hind legs of the bee there Is a fringe of stiff hairs on the surface, the hairs approaching each other at the tips, so as to form a sort of cage. This is the bee’s basketThe Hurd Part of It. “It wasn’t hard learning how to write,” said Bobbie one morning, when he was trying to write a letter to his father. “What bothers me is learning what to say when I write.”

OPENED HIS MUSIC-BOOK AND SANG.