So, Parson Stebbins, you’ve relea… To say that here, and here, we pre… 'Tis a great thing an editor to sk… And hang his faulty pelt upon a na… (If over-eared, it has, at least,…

Once I seen a human ruin In a elevator-well. And his members was bestrewin’ All the place where he had fell. And I says, apostrophisin’

‘I beg you to note,’ said a Man t… As he plucked from her bosom the p… 'That pillows and cushions of feat… As warm as maids’ hearts and as so… Increase of life’s comforts the ge…

He lay on his bed and solemnly ‘si… Gasping-perhaps ‘twas a jest he me… ’This of a sound and disposing min… Is the last ill-will and contestam…

Republicans think Jonas Bimm A Democrat gone mad, And Democrats consider him Republican and bad. The Tough reviles him as a Dude

DRAMATIS PERSONAE. ST. JOHN _a Presidential Candi… MCDONALD _a Defeated Aspirant… MRS. HAYES _an Ex-President_ PITTS-STEVENS _a Water Nymp…

When I was young and full of fait… And other fads that youngsters che… A cry rose as of one that saith With emphasis: ‘Help or I perish!… 'Twas heard in all the land, and m…

YES, he was that, or that, as you… Did so and so, though, faith, it w… Lived like a fool, or a philosophe… And had whatever’s needful to a fa… As rough inflections on a planet m…

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

Dear Bruner, once we had a little… (That is to say, 'twas I did all… About the manner of your moral wal… How devious the trail you made in… On level ground, your law-protecte…

Writer folk across the bay Take the pains to see and say All their upward palms in air: 'Joaquin Miller’s cut his hair!' Hasten, hasten, writer folk

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…

I drew aside the Future’s veil And saw upon his bier The poet Whitman. Loud the wail And damp the falling tear. 'He’s dead-he is no more!' one cri…

False to his art and to the high c… God laid upon him, Markham’s rebe… Beats all in vain the harp he touc… It yields a jingle and it yields n… No more the strings beneath his fi…

‘Sas agapo sas agapo,’ He sang beneath her lattice. 'Sas agapo’?' she murmured-'O, I wonder, now, what _that_ is!' Was she less fair that she did bea…