or that

"Baby is a sweet pill,
That fills my soul with joy"

or when we see a father, mother or nurse--for nurses sometimes
become almost as fond of their little charge as the parents
themselves,--hugging the child to their bosoms as they say that
he is so sweet that "he makes you love him till it kills you," we
begin to appreciate the affection that prompts the utterance.

Another feature of these rhymes is the same as that found in the
nursery songs of all nations, namely, the food element. "Jack
Sprat," "Little Jacky Horner," "Four and Twenty Black-birds,"
"When Good King Arthur Ruled the Land," and a host of others will
indicate what I mean. A little child is a highly developed
stomach, and anything which tells about something that ministers
to the appetite and tends to satisfy that aching void, commends
itself to his literary taste, and hence the popularity of many
of our nursery rhymes, the only thought of which is about
something good to eat. Notice the following:

Look at the white breasted crows overhead.
My father shot once and ten crows tumbled dead.
When boiled or when fried they taste very good,
But skin them, I tell you, there's no better food.


In imagination I can see the reader raise his eyebrows and
mutter, "Do the Chinese eat crows?" while at the same time he has