THE "LAND OF MAKE-BELIEVE" 



121 



physiologic action is much ] 

 acid, being sufficient to kill 

 mals and to paralyze larger 



A glance at the illustra- 

 tion will show how this 

 little thread-like tube is 

 placed in the cell, and in 

 the "exploded" one how it 

 appears when thrust out. 



From their structure 

 they are also known as 

 thread - cells, nettle - cells 

 and lasso-cells, and when 

 once "exploded" cannot 

 be used again. 



They are found mostly 

 in the tentacles and some 

 varieties are provided 

 with barbed hooks or back- 

 ward-pointing thorns like 

 fish hooks. 



ike formic The appendages, which arc feeding 



small ani- mouths, float along back of these ani- 

 ones. mals at times, and again arc found 



hanging below depending 

 on the wind or current. 



I heard of a sailor who 

 possessed little enough 

 discretion, not looking be- 

 fore leaping, who dove 

 right into an immense 

 Portuguese man - of - war 

 from the yardarm of a 

 ship, in the Gulf of Mex- 

 ico. He was taken to the 

 hospital where several 

 months were spent in 

 fever and suffering before 

 recovery. 



We will hope sense 

 a nematocyst enough was left to prevent 



(Charged and exploded.) his repeating the "stunt." 



THE "LAND OF MAKE-BELIEVE" 



By IRENE POMEROY SHIELDS 



I wish to go, dear, dimpled maid, 



This pleasant afternoon, 

 Where your little feet have strayed 



Through all your sunny June; 

 Take my hand and clasp it close, 



My promise true receive — 

 I'll never show the way you go. 



To the "Land of Make-Believe." 



Through pleasant lanes where heartsease grow, 



And buds of promise bloom, 

 Where cheering springs of comfort flow, 



Soft winds waft sweet perfume; 

 And there fond old-time hopes long dead, 



Old friends I held most dear 

 . Old joys that all too quickly fled, 



Old songs I fain would hear — 

 Shall come and bide with us awhile, 



Our hearts with rapture fill, 

 And tears forgot, we'll keep the smile, 



When down the western hill 

 The golden sun has hid his face, 



And we for home must leave, 

 Forever holding fast the grace 



Of the "Land of Make-Believe." 



And some blest day our Father's hand 



May lead both me and you 

 Adown a golden sunlit land, 



Where "Make-Believes" come true. 



