Here is another wonderful illustration from my beloved book of Children's Poetry. Along with this drawing is this rather odd little poem.
He loves to be little, he hates to be big,
'Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig;
'Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin
That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win.
.
'Tis he, when at hight you go off to your bed,
Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head
For wherevery they're lying, in cupboard or shelf,
'Tis he will take care of your playthings himself!
