Nay, Peter Robertson, 'tis not fo… To blubber o’er Max Taubles for h… By Heaven! my hearty, if you only… How better is a grave-worm in the… Than brains like yours-how far mor…

FITCH: 'All vices you’ve exhausted, frien… So all the papers say.' PICKERING: ‘Ah, what vile calumnies are penne…

When Liberverm resigned the chair Of This or That in college, where For two decades he’d gorged his br… With more than it could well conta… In order to relieve the stress

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…

Hail, blessed Blunder! golden ido… Clay-footed deity of all who fail. Celestial image, let thy glory shi… Thy feet concealing, but a lamp to… Let me, at seasons opportune and f…

The Devil one day, coming up from… All grimy with perspiration, Applied to St. Peter and begged h… Him a moment for consultation. The Saint showed him in where the…

O, heavenly powers! will wonders n… Hair upon dogs and feathers upon g… The boys in mischief and the pigs… The drinking water wet! the coal o… In meadows, rivulets surpassing fa…

What wrecked the Roman power? One… Another indolence, another dice. Emascle says polygamy. ‘Not so,’ Says Impycu-'twas luxury and show… The parson, lifting up a brow of b…

A reporter he was, and he wrote, w… “The grave was covered as thick as… With floral tributes”—which readin… The editor man he said, he did so: “For 'floral tributes’ he’s got fo…

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

Enoch Arden was an able Seaman; hear of his mishap Not in wild mendacious fable, As 't was told by t’ other chap; For I hold it is a youthful

Editor Owen, of San Jose, Commonly known as ‘our friend J.J… Weary of scribbling for daily brea… Weary of writing what nobody read, Slept one day at his desk and drea…

Ira P. Rankin, you’ve a nasal nam… I’ll sound it through ‘the speakin… And wondering nations, hearing fro… The brazen twang of its resounding… Shall say: ‘These bards are an un…

Precursor of our woes, historic sp… What dismal records burn upon thy… On thee I see the maculating stai… Of passengers’ commingled blood an… In this red rust a widow’s curse a…

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…