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…

So, Beecher’s dead. His was a gre… Great as a giant organ is, whose r… Hold in them all the souls of all… That man has ever taught and never… When on this mighty instrument He…

For Gladstone’s portrait five tho… Were paid, 't is said, to Sir Joh… I cannot help thinking that such f… Transcended reason’s uttermost bou… For it seems to me uncommonly quee…

From end to end, thine avenue, Va… Rang with the cries of battle and… Brave lungs were thundering with d… And perspiration smoked along the… Sing, heavenly muse, to ears of mo…

Professor dear, I think it queer That all these good religions ('Twixt you and me, some two or th… Are schemes for plucking pigeons) I mean 'tis strange that every cha…

To flatter your way to the goad of… O plausible Mr. Perkins, You’ll need ten tons of the softes… And butter a thousand firkins. The soap you could put to a better…

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…

A famous journalist, who long Had told the great unheaded throng Whate’er they thought, by day or n… Was true as Holy Writ, and right, Was caught in-well, on second thou…

Strolling at sunset in my native l… With fruits and flowers thick on e… I crossed a Shadow flung athwart… Emerging on a waste of rock and sa… ‘The apples all are gone from here…

Well, well, old Father Christmas,… With your thick neck and thin pret… Less redness in the nose-nay, even… Would not, I think, particularly… When seen close to, not mounted in…

DRAMATIS PERSONAE. HAYSEED _a Granger_ NOZZLE _a Miner_ RINGDIVVY _a Statesman_ FEEGOBBLE _a Lawyer_

Behold! the days of miracle at las… Return-if ever they were truly pas… From sinful creditors’ unholy gree… The church called Calvary at last… So called for there the Savior’s…

To Parmentier Parisians raise A statue fine and large: He cooked potatoes fifty ways, Nor ever led a charge. '_Palmam qui meruit’_-the rest

Yawp, yawp, yawp! Under the moon and sun. It’s aye the rabble, And I to gabble, And hey! for the tale that is neve…

Death, are you well? I trust you… That’s painful or in any way annoy… No kidney trouble that may carry y… Or heart disease to keep you from… Your meals-and ours. 'T were very…