What! photograph in colors? 'Tis… And he who dreams it is not overwi… If colors are vibration they but s… And have no being. But if Tyndall… Why, come, then-photograph my lady…

Cheeta Raibama Chunder Sen, The wisest and the best of men, Betook him to the place where sat With folded feet upon a mat Of precious stones beneath a palm,

When a fair bridge is builded o’er… Between two cities, some ambitious… Hot for distinction, pleads for ea… To push his clumsy feet upon the s… That men in after years may single…

DRAMATIS PERSONAE. VILLIAM _a Sen_ NEEDLESON _a Sidniduc_ SMILER _a Scheister_ KI-YI _a Trader_

‘Authority, authority!’ they shout Whose minds, not large enough to h… Some chance opinion ever entertain… By dogma billeted upon their brain… ‘Ha!’ they exclaim with choreatic…

Abundant bores afflict this world,… Are bores of magnitude that-come a… They’re always coming, but they ne… Like funeral pageants, as they dro… Their lurid nonsense like a muffle…

Each to his taste: some men prefer… At mystery, as others at piquet. Some sit in mystic meditation; som… Parade the street with tambourine… One studies to decipher ancient lo…

‘Let there be Liberty!’ God said,… The red skies all were luminous.… Struck first Columbia’s kindling… One hundred and eleven years ago!' So sang a patriot whom once I saw

A rat who’d gorged a box of bane And suffered an internal pain, Came from his hole to die (the lab… Required it if the rat were able) And found outside his habitat

O, heavenly powers! will wonders n… Hair upon dogs and feathers upon g… The boys in mischief and the pigs… The drinking water wet! the coal o… In meadows, rivulets surpassing fa…

There were brave men, some one has… Before Atrides (those were mostly… Behind him) and ere you could e’er… Actaeon lived, Nimrod and Bahram… In strength and speed and daring t…

The Senate met in Sacramento city… On public morals it had no committ… Though greatly these abounded. So… Was broken by the Senators in rio… Now, at the end of their contagiou…

Lord, shed thy light upon his dese… And gild his branded brow, that no… His forfeit life to balk thy holy… That spares him for the ripening o… Already, lo! the red sign is descr…

‘Let music flourish!’ So he said… Hark! ere he’s gone the minstrelsy… The symphonies ascend, a swelling… Melodious thunders fill the welkin… The grand old lawyers, chinning on…

Och! Father McGlynn, Ye appear to be in Fer a bit of a bout wid the Pope; An’ there’s divil a doubt But he’s knockin’ ye out