And have a concave tummy, too,

Two meals a day's the most for me,
Out here beside the golden sea,

But even if the going's hard

And all my butter turned to lard,

In spite of all the rotten breaks

And snooty looks and sad head-shakes,
There's lots of fun mixed in it, too;
So struggle on, kids—tootle oo.

—BY ONE WHO KNOWS.

ONE WAY TO REDUCE

| REACH the steps at five-to-nine

With plenty of pep, and just in time.
With a feeble groan | start to climb

Up stairs and steps—O youth sublime!
Steps and stairs, in dreams you're mine—

And the hectic clock says three-past-nine.

Four flights below are settling back
From the gentle thud of a size-six whack.
With paper and charcoal actually found
| start for class with a marathon bound.
The last six steps | manage to miss
And hit the ground with unwilling kiss.
A couple of yards along the floor-—
But O! my dear, there's actually more.
Three flights up and I've really passed
A classroom door—but not the last!
| grab an easel and manage to find
A board—but I've left my chamois behind.
I look and feel like a martyr and fool,
But | start on the run for the other school.
Months of this! So one day | flounce
To a weight machine, and I've lost—one ounce!

1.E.H.