Come in, old gentleman. How do yo… Delighted, I’m sure, that you’ve… I’m a sociable sort of a chap and… Are a pleasant-appearing person, t… With a head agreeably bald.

I died. As meekly in the earth I… With shriveled fingers reverently… The worm-uncivil engineer!-my clay Tunneled industriously, and the mo… My body could not dodge them, but…

Says England to Germany: 'Africa… Says Germany: ‘Ours, I opine.’ Says Africa: 'Tell me, delectable… What is it that ought to be mine?'

Aeronaut, you’re fairly caught, Despite your bubble’s leaven: Out of the skies a lady’s eyes Have brought you down to Heaven! No more, no more you’ll freely soa…

O Reverend Ravlin, once with soun… You shook the bloody banner of you… Urged all the fiery boycotters afi… And swore you’d rather follow them… Alas, how brief the time, how grea…

‘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

I am for Cutting. I’m a blade Designed for use at dress parade. My gleaming length, when I displa… Peace rules the land with gentle s… But when the war-dogs bare their t…

Charles Shortridge once to St. P… ‘Down!’ cried the saint with his f… ‘Tis writ that every hardy liar Shall dwell forever and ever in fi… 'That’s what I said the night tha…

Says Anderson, Theosophist: 'Among the many that exist In modern halls, Some lived in ancient Egypt’s cli… And in their childhood saw the pri…

O Abner Doble-whose 'catarrhal na… Budd of that ilk might envy-'tis a… Rude thing to say, but it is plain… Your name is to be sneezed at: its… Will 'fill the speaking trump of f…

Off Santa Cruz the western wave Was crimson as with blood: The sun was sinking to his grave Beneath that angry flood. Sir Walter Turnbull, brave and st…

Saint Peter, standing at the Gate… A soul whose body Death had latel… A pleasant soul as ever was, he se… His step was joyous and his visage… ‘Good morning, Peter.’ There was…

The rimer quenches his unheeded fi… The sound surceases and the sense… Then the domestic dog, to east and… Expounds the passions burning in h… The rising moon o’er that enchante…

Well, Mr. Kemble, you are called,… A great divine, and I’m a great p… You as a Congregationalist blink Some certain truths that I esteem… And dropp them in the coffers of m…

'Tis the census enumerator A-singing all forlorn: It’s ho! for the tall potater, And ho! for the clustered corn. The whiffle-tree bends in the bree…