Volume 159 — NEW RHYMES FOR OLD CHILDREN.

The Snail. The life of the snail is a fight against odds, Though fought without fever or flummox; You see, he is one of those gasteropods Which have to proceed on their stomachs. Just think how you'd hate to go round on your own, Especially if it was gummy, And wherever you travelled you left on a stone The horrid imprint of your tummy! Wherever you hid, by that glutinous trail Some boring acquaintance would follow; And this is the bitter complaint of the snail Who is pestered to death by the swallow. But remember, he carries his house on his back, And that is a wonderful power; When he goes to the sea he has nothing to pack, And he cannot be caught in a shower. After all there is something attractive in that; And then he can move in a minute, And it's something to have such a very small flat That nobody else can get in it. But this is what causes such numbers of snails To throw themselves into abysses:— They are none of them born to be definite males And none of them definite misses. They cannot be certain which one of a pair Is the Daddy and which is the Mummy; And that must be even more awful to bear Than walking about on your tummy. A.P.H.