n the rail!

_J.G. Saxe._

The Building of the Ship

EXTRACT

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock,
'Tis of the wave and not the rock;
'Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
In spite of rock and tempest's roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith truiumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee,--are all with thee!

_H.W. Longfellow._

The Dead Pussy Cat

You's as stiff an' as cold as a stone,
Little cat!
Dey's done frowed you out an' left you alone,
Little cat!
I's a-strokin' you's fur,
But you don't never purr
Nor hump up anywhere,
Little cat.
W'y is dat?
Is you's purrin' an' humpin'-up done?

An' w'y fer is you's little foot tied,
Little cat?
Did dey pisen you's tummick inside,
Little cat?
Did dey pound you wif bricks,
Or wif big nasty sticks,
Or abuse you wif kicks,
Little cat?
Tell me dat,
Did dey holler at all when you cwied?

Did it hurt werry bad w'en you died,
Little cat?
Oh, w'y didn't yo wun off and hide,
Little cat?
I is wet in my eyes,
'Cause I most always cwies
W'en a pussy cat dies,
Little cat,
Tink of dat,
An' I's awfully solly besides!

Dest lay still dere in de sof gwown',
Little cat,
W'ile I tucks de gween gwass all awoun',
Little cat.
Dey can't hurt you no more
W'en you's tired an' so sore,
Dest sleep twiet, you pore
Little cat,
Wif a pat,
An' fordet all de kicks of de town.

_Marion Short._

The Owl Critic

"Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop;
The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop;
The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading
The _Daily_, the _Herald_, the _Post_, little heeding
The young man who blurted out such a blunt question;
Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion;
And the barber kept on shaving.

"Don't you see, Mister Brown,"
Cried the youth, with