THE GORILLA

ANONYMOUS

"O mighty ape!

Half beast, half man,
Thy uncouth shape

Betrays a plan

The gulf of Being at a bound to span.
Thou art the link between ourselves and brutes,
Lifting the lower to a higher plane;

Thy human face all cavilers refutes,

Who sneer at Darwin as a dreamer vain.
How camest thou beneath this canvas tent?
Within this cage? behind these iron bars?
Thou, whose young days in tropic lands were spent,
With strange companions, under foreign stars?
Art thou not lonely? What is life to thee

Thus mewed in prison, innocent of crime,
Become a spectacle for crowds to see,

And reckless boys to jeer at all the time?
Hast thou no feelings such as we possess?
Art thou devoid of any sense of shame?
Rise up, O brother, and thy wrongs redress;
Rise in thy might, and be no longer tame!"

I paused in my apostrophe. The animal arose;

IIe seized the bars that penned him in: my blood in terror froze.
He shook the cage from side to side; the frightened people fled;
Then, in a tone of savage wrath, the horrid monster said:
"I'm hired by the wake to wear the dhirty craythur's shkin;
I came from Tipperary, and me name is Micky Flynn!"

BANGING A SENSATIONAL NOVELIST

ANONYMOUS

The other day a stout woman, armed with an umbrella, and leading a small urchin, called at the office of a New York boys' story paper.

"Is this the place where they fight Indians?" she inquired of the young man in charge. "Is this the locality where the brave boy charges up the canyon and speeds a bullet to the heart of the dusky redskin?" and she jerked the urchin around by the ear and brought her umbrella down on the desk.

"We publish stories for boys, and

"I want to know if these are the premises on which the daring lad springs upon his fiery mustang, and, darting through the circle of thunderstruck savages, cuts the captive's cords and bears him away before the wondering Indians have recovered from their astonishment? That's the information I'm after. I want to know if that sort of thing is perpetrated here!" and she swung the umbrella around her head.

"I don't remember those specific facts, but

"I want to know if this is the precinct where the adventurous boy jumps on the back of a buffalo and with unerring aim picks off one by one the bloodthirsty pursuers who bite the dust at every crack of the faithful rifle! I'm looking for the place where that sort of thing happens!" and this time she brought the unlucky man a tremendous whack across the back.

"I think- 99

"I'm in search of the shop in which the boy road-agent holds the quivering stage-driver powerless with his glittering eye, while he robs the male passengers with an adroitness born of long and tried experience, and kisses the hands of the lady passengers with a gallantry of bearing that bespeaks noble birth and a chivalrous nature! I'm looking for the apartment in which that

business is transacted!"

"Upon my word, madam, I

"I want to be introduced to the jars in which you keep the

boy scouts of the Sierras! Show me the bins full of the boy detectives of the prairie! Point out to me the barrels full of boy pirates of the Spanish main!" and with each demand she brought her umbrella down on the young man's head until he jumped over the desk and sought safety in a neighboring canyon. "I'll teach 'em!" she panted, grasping the urchin by the ear and leading him off. "I'll teach 'em to make it good or dance. Want to go fight Indians any more (twisting the boy's ear)? Want to stand proudly upon the pinnacle of the mountain and scatter the plain beneath with the bleeding bodies of uncounted slain? Propose to spring upon the taffrail and with a ringing word of command send a broadside into the richly-laden galley, and then mercifully spare the beautiful maiden in the cabin, that she may become bride? Eh? Going to do it any more?" The boy exprest his permanent abandonment of all the glories enumerated.

your

"Then come along," said she, taking him by the collar. "Let me catch you around with any more ramrods and carving knives, and you'll think the leaping, curling, resistless prairie fire has swept with a ferocious roar of triumph across the trembling plains and lodged under your jacket to stay!"

HOPKINS' LAST MOMENTS

ANONYMOUS

Nurses in hospitals are inclined to lay too much stress on the advantages received by the patients and their duty of thankfulness, but it is the poor soldier who suffers most from always having his cause to be grateful flung in his teeth. The following true story took place between the chaplain and the hospital orderly:

Chaplain "So poor Hopkins is dead. I should like to have spoken to him once more and soothed his last moments. Why didn't you call me?"

Hospital Orderly "I didn't think you ought to be disturbed for 'Opkins, sir; so I just soothed him as best I could myself."

Chaplain "Why, what did you say to him?" Orderly "I sez, "'Opkins, you're mortal bad.' ""I am,' sez 'e."

""'Opkins,' sez I, 'I don't think you'll get better.'"

"No,' sez 'e."

""'Opkins,' sez I, 'I don't think you can 'ope to go to 'eaven." ""I don't think I can,' sez 'e."

66

'Well, then, 'Opkins,' sez I, 'you'll go to 'ell.'" "I suppose so,' sez 'e."

''Opkins,' sez I, 'you ought to be wery grateful as there's a place perwided for you, and that you've got somewhere to go.' And I think 'e 'eard, sir, for 'e just gave a little groan, turned over, and then 'e died.”

THE FAIRIES' TEA

ANONYMOUS

Five little fairies went out to take tea,
Under the shade of a juniper tree.
Each had a cup from an acorn cut,

And a plate from the rind of a hickory nut.

The table was spread with a cloth all of lace,
Woven by spiders the banquet to grace.
Oh, what good things they all had to eat!—
Slices of strawberry,-my what a treat!

Honey the sweetest the wild bee could hive,

And a humming-bird's egg for each of the five.

Then they drank their host's health in their favorite drink,
Which was,-now what was it? Can anyone think?

Why the dew-drop that comes from the heart of the rose
Is the drink of the fairies, as everyone knows.

COUNTING EGGS

ANONYMOUS

Old Moses, who sells eggs and chickens on the streets of Austin for a living, is as honest an old negro as ever lived; but he has the habit of chatting familiarly with his customers, hence he frequently makes mistakes in counting out the eggs they buy. He carries his wares around in a small cart drawn by a diminutive donkey. He stopt in front of the residence of Mrs. Samuel Burton. The old lady herself came out to the gate to make the purchase.

"Have you any eggs this morning, Uncle Moses?" she asked. "Yes, indeed I has. Jess got in ten dozen from de kentry." "Are they fresh ?"

"Fresh? Yes, indeed! I guantees 'em, an'-an'-de hen guantees 'em."

"I'll take nine dozen. basket."

You can just count them into this

"All right, mum; (he counts) one, two, free, foah, five, six, seben, eight, nine, ten. You can rely on dem bein' fresh. How's your son comin' on de school? He must be mos' grown."

"Yes, Uncle Moses; he is a clerk in a bank in Galveston." "Why, how ole am de boy?"

"He is eighteen."

"You don't tole me so! Eighteen, and getting a salary already! Eighteen (counting), nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-free, twenty-foah, twenty-five. And how's your gal comin' on? She was most growed up de last time I seed her."

"She is married and living in Dallas."

"Wall, I declar'; how time scoots away! And you say she has childruns? Why, how ole am de gal? She must be just about

"Am dat so? (Counting.) Firty-free, firty-foah, firty-five, firty-six, firty-seben, firty-eight, firty-nine, forty, forty-one, fortytwo, forty-free. Hit am singular dat you has sich ole childruns. You don't look more den forty years old yerseff."