Zodiac Town Part 7

But just suppose they had to!

How funny it would be to see The desks all full of scholars, With fins and claws and hoofs and paws, Skin coats and brown fur collars!

"How strange 't would seem to happen by And hear the teacher saying, 'The kitty-cat geography Must be kept in from playing; And once again I tell you plain That I shall give a rapping To the very next first-reader owl That I discover napping.'

"The crabs would write in copy-books, Such crawly, scrawly letters; The bees would have a spelling-bee And buzz among their betters; And monkeys chatter French and squeak In Greek the live-long day, To scare the cla.s.s of infant lambs, Who only know B-A.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"They'd send giraffes up to the board To figure slowly, each, Problems in higher branches That they could never reach.

And here and there and everywhere, No matter who played fool, They'd straightway clap a paper cap Upon the youngest mule.

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"A looker-on might feel, perhaps, A little consternation, To see the bear philosophy Arise for recitation; And pupils all, and teacher, too, Would pale a bit, perchance, When the elephants came up to do Their calisthenics dance!"

"But," Amos persisted, "if they don't go to school, then how on earth did they learn how to talk?"

"I taught them, to be sure," said a hoa.r.s.e voice overhead.

The children looked up, startled, and were astonished to see that the voice came, apparently, from a long-tailed green parrot, with a hooked beak and round, solemn eyes.

"They come from all parts of the world," the parrot resumed, "for me to teach them. Of course, you needn't call it a school if you don't want to."

He whistled shrilly, and the birds and beasts came scampering back and stood round in a respectful circle. The children tried to talk to them, but they looked bashful and would not say a word.

"Perhaps they'd like to hear some rhymes," J. M. suggested. "Go ahead, Amos and Ann."

"My _stars_!" said Ann, and Amos added: "How in the world can I start off quite suddenly--"

Just then a cuckoo rushed out from a clock somewhere and cuckooed eleven times, and the twelfth time Amos said:--

"Quite suddenly, a speckled trout Down in the swift, clear river Began to bustle all about, His fishy chin a-quiver.

"He raised so big a foam and fuss The fishes all a.s.sembled.

Why, at a hippopotamus He'd scarcely so have trembled!

"'What ails you?' asked a brother trout.

'What's wrong?' inquired a minnow.

'Alas! We're all invited out,'

He s.h.i.+vered, 'to a dinner!'

"They cried, 'Why, that's a jolly plan!

Who asked us out to dine?'

'Oh!' sobbed the trout, 'a fisherman, He just dropped me a line!'"

When the poem was finished, the parrot cried, "Hear! Hear!" and clapped his wings excitedly, and a little racc.o.o.n laughed so loud that he had to be sent away in disgrace.

"Now, Ann," said J. M., "give us a poem about your cat."

"Not a wild cat, I hope," put in the parrot hastily. "That kind of a cat has such bad manners--far, far worse than the racc.o.o.n's--that it is not allowed round here at all. If it's a polite kind of a cat, go on, Miss; not otherwise."

Little Ann was very red in the face. "But I can't go on," she said. She intended to say also, "There's nothing to go on with," but just as she said "There's," a little nickel clock called five very clearly, and she remarked, instead:--

"There's the snow-white cat, the pearl-gray cat, The brindle and the brown, The cat with stripes around himself, The cat striped up and down, The plaid cat and the buff cat, The tan, the tortoise-sh.e.l.l, The bluish sort, the reddish sort-- More tints than I can tell.

But the finest of the whole fine lot (There's no disputing that) Is the jet-black chap with one white spot-- And that's our kind of cat.

"The tiny cat is cunning, The long, lean cat is fleet, The nimble one is made for fun, The fluff-ball one is sweet, The Persian p.u.s.s.y's splendid, The Maltese kitty, too, But the special kind I have in mind Is best of all the crew.

He's not too quick and frisky, Nor is he slow and fat; He's soft and warm and fits my arm, And he's our kind of cat!"

Ann's recitation was well received. The parrot said he was very familiar with the kitty kind of cat--in fact, had instructed a good many of them.

Amos remarked that, with so many beasts coming to learn, the place would soon be filled to overflowing.

"Oh, no," said the parrot. "The same train that brings in a crowd takes a crowd away."

"_Train?_" Amos repeated, his eyes round with curiosity.

"To be sure--train," the parrot answered. "You don't mean to tell me you never heard of the Wild Beast Limited?"

Then he preened his feathers with pride and chanted the song of the Wild Beast Limited.

"The Wild Beast Limited pulls out With bustle and with fuss.

It's hard to seat the porcupine And hippopotamus.

"The ants demand a special coach If one ant-eater goes; The dormouse wants a sleeping car; The chickens shun the crows;

"The camel will not stir a peg Until his fill he's drunk; The elephant is loud and cross Until he checks his trunk;

"The tortoise always comes too late; The hare a day ahead.

I'd hate to be the engineer Of the Wild Beast Limited."

SEPTEMBER

_IX_

_SEPTEMBER_

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Libra_]

Very familiar September seemed: A flag-pole stood in the yard, And the little path that led from the road Was trampled bare and hard.

A bell hung high in the little tower, And when the door swung wide They saw a young woman with pen in hand, Writing away inside.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Very familiar September seemed_]