Ben Truman, you’re a genius and c… Though one would not suspect it fr… You lack that certain spareness wh… Distinctive of the persons who mak… You show the workmanship of Stanf…

'Why, Goldenson, you’re looking v… Said Death as, strolling through… He entered that serene assassin’s… And hung his hat and coat upon a n… ‘I think that life in this seclude…

Your various talents, Goldenson,… Respect: you are a poet and can dr… It is a pity that your gifted hand Should ever have been raised again… If you had drawn no pistol, but a…

Baffled he stands upon the track The automatic switches clack. Where’er he turns his solemn eyes The interlocking signals rise. The trains, before his visage pale…

Hassan Bedreddin, clad in rags, i… Sought the great temple of the liv… The worshippers arose and drove hi… And one in power beat him with a r… ‘Allah,’ he cried, ‘thou seest wha…

What! ‘Out of danger?’ Can the sl… Or canting Pharisee no more defam… Will Treachery caress my hand no… Nor Hatred lie alurk about my doo… Ingratitude, with benefits dismiss…

That land full surely hastens to i… Where public sycophants in homage… The populace to flatter, and repea… The doubled echoes of its loud con… Lowly their attitude but high thei…

Posterity with all its eyes Will come and view him where he li… Then, turning from the scene away With a concerted shrug, will say: 'H’m, Scarabaeus Sisyphus

I ne’er could be entirely fond Of any maiden who’s a blonde, And no brunette that e’er I saw Had charms my heart’s whole warmth to draw.

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…

RAILROGUES, DUMP-CARTERS. NAVVIES and Unassorted SHOVELRY in the Lower Distance (_Seizes Dead Cat by the tail and swings it in act to throw._) (_Endeavoring to get his handkerchief, he ...

'I saw your charms in another’s ar… Said a Grecian swain with his blo… 'And he kissed you fair as he held… A willing bird in a serpent’s coil… The maid looked up from the cinctu…

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…

With crow bones all the land is wh… From the gates of morn to the gate… Picked clean, they lie on the cumb… And the politician’s paunch is rou… And he strokes it down and across…

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