The thing busted and went off into seventeen hundred and
fifty-seven thousand five hundred and forty-two hemi-demi-semi-quavers,
and I know'd no mo'."
OBITUARY.
BY WILLIAM THOMSON.
"Down the line I'll go," he said,
"To reach the railway station."
_Friends will please accept of this
The only intimation_.
THE EDITOR'S STORY.
(_A YANKEE EDITOR IN ENGLAND_.)
BY ALFRED H. MILES.
The Editor dipp'd his pen in the ink;
He smole a smile and he wunk a wink;
He chuckled a chuck and he thunk a think.
'Twas a time of dearth
Of news, and the earth
Was rolling and bowling along on its axis
With never a murmur concerning the taxes
And never a ruse, or of rumour a particle
Needing a special or claiming an article;
In fact 'twas a terrible time for the papers,
And puzzled the brains of the paragraph shapers,
Till the whole world seem'd nothing but gases and vapours.
And the Editor wrote:
But I'm not going to quote,
Far be it from me to set rumours afloat.
Suffice it to say,
The paper next day
Contain'd such a slasher
For Captain McClasher,
The whole town declared it a regular smasher;
And what made it worse he inserted a rubber,
For the world-renowned millionaire, Alderman Grubber.
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