Then he has to lift his whole weight with, 

 his mouth more than seven hundred times 

 before he gets back to his feeding 

 ground !" 



"I would stay there," said all the fam- 

 ily at once. 



"I can't enter his reasons," said the 

 old philosopher, "but I have no doubt he 

 has some." 



"I guess," laughed the young lady, 

 "it's just to worry the gardener and pass- 

 ers by ; especially girls without sun- 

 shades." 



"So now, tonight we've had the swing- 

 ing and the skating and the screwing 

 and the climbing with the mouth. That 

 makes, I think, about fifteen ways of lo- 

 comotion among the animals ; and I 

 guess you've had enough till you look up 

 some more for vourselves." 



"No, no!" they all shouted. "Tell us 

 the funny one ; tell us the funny one." 



"Must I?" said Uncle Jarvis, who 

 meant to all along. "Well, it's the little 

 sand-crab's way. Look out for him the 



next time you go to the shore. When 

 he wants to get up the beach he watches 

 for an incoming wave and scrabbles out 

 of his hiding place to let it wash him 

 up as far as it will. Before it retires he 

 digs down into the sand, to let it pass 

 over without moving him. Then with 

 the next wave he repeats the operation, 

 till he gets as high as that tide will take 

 him, or till he is ready to go back. To 

 do this he simply reverses the operation. 



"Bow cute !" was the thought of all 

 the company. But it was easy to be seen 

 that the good leader in these nature talks 

 had not quite finished. 



"Boys — and girls, too — I don't favor 

 making a sermon out of our subject, or 

 else our little crab might preach as well 

 maybe as Holmes's Nautilus. Of all our 

 animals that 'get on' he is the one that 

 does so by watching his opportunities. 

 That is the best secret of 'going ahead' 

 that I know anything about." 



William Curtis Taylor. 



TO THE POPPY. 



Flaming like a fiery torch, 



Amidst a field of waste and weed ; — 

 Deep crimson hued like veins that bleed, 



The verv air thou seemst to scorch. 



Oh Lethean flower, thou hast a power 

 More potent than the fragrant rose, — 

 Or minstrel's most entrancing lay ; 

 Thy subtle blood leads to reposej^ 

 Oblivion's sleep; and the fleeting hour 

 Seems as a dream of yesterday. 



— J. Mayne Baltimore. 



140 



