You 're grayer than one would have… The climate you have over there In the East has apparently brough… Disorders affecting the hair, Which-pardon me-seems a thought sp…

Sir Impycu Lackland, from over th… Has led to the altar Miss Bloatie… The wedding took place at the Chu… The fashion, the rank and the weal… No person was absent of all whom o…

'Tis the widow of Thomas Blythe, And she goeth upon the spree, And red are cheeks of the bystande… For her acts are light and free. In a seven-ounce costume

Down in Southern Arizona where th… And the ‘Mescalero,’ gifted with… Every hour renounces one of them b… The assassinating wassail that has… Where the enterprising dealer in…

I dreamed I stood upon a hill, an… The godly multitudes walked to and… Beneath, in Sabbath garments fitl… With pious mien, appropriately sad… While all the church bells made a…

A reporter he was, and he wrote, w… “The grave was covered as thick as… With floral tributes”—which readin… The editor man he said, he did so: “For 'floral tributes’ he’s got fo…

‘Lothario is very low,’ So all the doctors tell. Nay, nay, not _so_-he will be, tho… If ever he get well.

What! _you_ whip rascals?-_you_, w… Bears, in its dark, dishonorable f… Enough of prison-birds’ prolific g… To serve a whole eternity of terms… _You_, for whose back the rods and…

In Congress once great Mowther sh… Debating weighty matters; Now into an asylum thrown, He vacuously chatters. If in that legislative hall

When, long ago, the young world ci… Through wider reaches of a richer… New-eyed, the men and maids saw, m… The thoughts untold in one another… Each wish displayed, and every pas…

By hardihood to rise and fear to s… And fitly to rebuke his sins decre… That, hide from others with what c… Night sha’n’t be black enough nor… That from himself himself can ever…

In Bacon see the culminating prim… Of Anglo-Saxon intellect and crim… He dies and Nature, settling his… Parts his endowments among us, his… To every one a pinch of brain for…

‘O son of mine age, these eyes los… Be eyes, I pray, to thy dying sir… ‘O father, fear not, for mine eyes… I read through a millstone at dead… ‘My son, O tell me, who are those…

Alas, alas, for the tourist’s guid… He turned from the beaten trail as… Wandered bewildered, lay down and… O grim is the Irony of Fate: It switches the man of low estate

Pennoyer, Governor of Oregon, Casting to South his eye across t… Of his dominion (where the Palmip… With leathers 'twixt his toes, pad… Amphibious) saw a rising cloud of…