Just think of all your poems! Why, good Lord,
There is no word you work so hard as "sword."
We looked to see you there, the stout and staunch,
"Red flag" in one hand and "ten swords" in t'other;
Saw the strong sword-belt bursting from your paunch;
Pitied the foes you'd fall upon and smother;
Heard you make droves of pale policemen bleat,
Running amok to "slay them in the street."
Strong athwart Heav'n ran the high barricades,
And giant Bastilles reeled, impossibly smitten,
And men with broken hands swung thunderous blades
In "Russia's wrath"--just as you've often written;
Yea, the terrific tyrants really reeled,
While CHESTERTON sat safe at Beaconsfield.
And yet--I understand; I don't impute
That only in your poems do you bicker;
You would abstain, when people revolute,
No more, I'm sure, than you'd abstain from liquor;
And here we have it--here's the reason why:
_This was a revolution that was "dry."_
* * * * *
The Eagle's Plume.
"The bride, who is an American by birth, was given away by her
feather."--_Liverpool Daily Post_.
* * * * *
"Mr., Mrs. and Miss ----, who were in their bungalow at Sidbar, had
a lucky escape from the earthquake recently, for no sooner had they
ot out than gpractically the whole house cae mdown."--_Pioneer
(Allahabad)_.
On this occasion, contrary to the usual rule, Nature appears to have
been more careful of the individual than of the type.
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