Just look at the flakes com-ing down.

But see, they have found a snug shel-ter at last,
And hark, how they talk, while the storm whis-tles past:

Says Pol-ly to Dick-y,
"You're near-est the door,
And you are the gen-tle-man, too:
Just peep out and see
When the storm will be o'er;
Be-cause, if the wea-ther's as bad as be-fore,
I think we will stay, do not you?"



[Illustration: Far up a-mong the moun-tain peaks,
His food the lone-ly Con-dor seeks.]

[Illustration: The Co-bra has a dead-ly bite.
And yet in mu-sic takes de-light.]

[Illustration: The A-rabs through the de-sert wide,
On the swift Dro-me-dary ride.]

[Illustration: In gen-tle ri-vers, still and clear,
We see the shin-ing Dace ap-pear.]

[Illustration: "HOW IS THE WEATHER?"]

[Illustration: NELLY'S NEW PARASOL.]