Come, sisters, weep!-our Baron de… Alas! has run away. If always we had kept him here He had not gone astray. Painter and grainer it were vain

A bear, having spread him a notabl… Invited a famishing fox to the pla… 'I’ve killed me,' quoth he, ‘an ed… As ever distended the girdle of pr… With ’spread of religion,' or ‘inw…

WITH saintly grace and reverent… She walked among the graves with m… Her every footfall seemed to be A benediction on the dead. The guardian spirit of the place

De Young (in Chicago the story is… ‘Took his life in his hand,’ like… And stood before Buckley-who thou… For Buckley, the man-eating monst… ‘Count fairly the ballots!’ so ran…

Villain, when the word is spoken, And your chains at last are broken When the gibbet’s chilling shade Ceases darkly to enfold you, And the angel who enrolled you

RAILROGUES, DUMP-CARTERS. NAVVIES and Unassorted SHOVELRY in the Lower Distance (_Seizes Dead Cat by the tail and swings it in act to throw._) (_Endeavoring to get his handkerchief, he ...

God dreamed-the suns sprang flamin… And sailing worlds with many a ven… He woke-His smile alone illumined…

He looked upon the ships as they All idly lay at anchor, Their sides with gorgeous workmen… The riveter and planker Republicans and Democrats,

'O, I’m the Unaverage Man, But you never have heard of me, For my brother, the Average Man,… My fame with rapiditee, And I’m sunk in Oblivion’s sea,

Jacob Jacobs, of Oakland, he swor… 'Dat Solomon Martin-I’ll haf his… Solomon Martin, of Oakland, he sa… ‘Of Shacob Shacobs der bleed I v… So they met, with seconds and surg…

'Let Glory’s sons manipulate The tiller of the Ship of State. Be mine the humble, useful toil To work the tiller of the soil.'

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…

Thy flesh to earth, thy soul to G… We gave, O gallant brother; And o’er thy grave the awkward squ… Fired into one another!

I dreamed that I was poor and sic… Broken in hope and weary of my lif… My ventures all miscarrying-naught… For all my labor in the heat and s… And in my heart some certain thoug…

With crow bones all the land is wh… From the gates of morn to the gate… Picked clean, they lie on the cumb… And the politician’s paunch is rou… And he strokes it down and across…