If the butterfly courted the bee,
And the owl the porcupine;
If churches were built on the sea,
And three times one were nine;
If the pony rode his master,
And the buttercups ate the cows;
And the cat had the dire disaster
To be worried, sir, by a mouse;
And mamma, sir, sold her baby,
To a gypsy for half a crown,
And a gentleman were a lady,
This world would be upside down.
But, if any or all these wonders
Should ever come about,
I should not think them blunders,
For I should be inside out.

An encore was insisted on.

I offered to give any in my classes lessons in "how to tell a story"
with ease, brevity, and point, promising to give an anecdote of my own
suggested by theirs every time. This pleased them, and we had a jolly
time. The first girl who tried to tell a story said:

I don't know how; never attempted any such thing, but what I am
going to tell is true and funny.

My grandfather is very deaf. You may have seen him sitting on a
pulpit stair at Mr. Beecher's church, holding to his ear what
looks like a skillet. Last spring we went to the country,