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…

Alas, alas, for the tourist’s guid… He turned from the beaten trail as… Wandered bewildered, lay down and… O grim is the Irony of Fate: It switches the man of low estate

Liars for witnesses; for lawyers b… Who lose their tempers to retrieve… Cowards for jurors; and for judge… Who ne’er took up the law, yet lay… Justice denied, authority abused,

As vicious women think all men are… And shrew-bound gentlemen discours… As reeling drunkards judge the wor… And idlers swear employers ne’er g… Thieves that the constable stole a…

What! you were born, you animated… Within the shadow of the Capitol? 'Twas always thought (and Bancrof… His trusting readers) it was reare…

I turned my eyes upon the Future’… And saw its pictured prophecies un… I saw that magical life-laden trai… Flash its long glories o’er Nebra… I saw it smoothly up the mountain…

De Young (in Chicago the story is… ‘Took his life in his hand,’ like… And stood before Buckley-who thou… For Buckley, the man-eating monst… ‘Count fairly the ballots!’ so ran…

Not all in sorrow and in tears, To pay of gratitude’s arrears The yearly sum Not prompted, wholly by the pride Of those for whom their friends ha…

Och! Father McGlynn, Ye appear to be in Fer a bit of a bout wid the Pope; An’ there’s divil a doubt But he’s knockin’ ye out

‘O son of mine age, these eyes los… Be eyes, I pray, to thy dying sir… ‘O father, fear not, for mine eyes… I read through a millstone at dead… ‘My son, O tell me, who are those…

Tut-tut! give back the flags - how… You veterans and heroes? Why should you at a kind intention… Like twenty Neros? Suppose the act was not so overwis…

Mrs. Mehitable Marcia Moore Was a dame of superior mind, With a gown which, modestly fittin… Was greatly puffed up behind. The bustle she wore was ingeniousl…

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…

Who told Creed Haymond he was wit… Had nothing better in this world t… Could no greased pig’s appeal to h… Kindle his ardor for the friendly… Did no dead dog upon a vacant lot,

Down in Southern Arizona where th… And the ‘Mescalero,’ gifted with… Every hour renounces one of them b… The assassinating wassail that has… Where the enterprising dealer in…