Mr.
Scott appealed to the Mayor, who reinstated him in his old place.
Mr. Scott soon afterwards had several hundred of the poems printed
and scattered them throughout the market. In an introductory note he
says, "the lines referring to Mayor Valentine are intended as a
compliment to that officer, as well as a play on his official title
of Mayor."

I've horses seen of noble blood,
And stopped to gaze and stare:
But ne'er before to-day I stood
In presence of a Mayor.

I've talked with rulers, in and ex,
With working man and boss;
Mayor Valentine! they you unsex--
You surely are a horse.

For every blooded horse one meets,
Or clever mare he passes,
He finds in all the city streets
A score of brainless asses.

A Jackass, in the days of old,
Dress'd in a lion's skin,
Went forth to ape the lion bold,
And raised a mighty din:

His ass-ship's ears he could not hide;
His roaring would not pass;
The startled beasts his ears descried,
And recognized the ass.

The moral of this tale you'll meet
Each market day in town,
With scales in hand, in Market street,
Dress'd in the lion's gown:

He roars, 'tis true, but scan him well
Whene'er you see him pass;
Look at his ears and you can tell
He's but a braying ass.

LINES

ON THE DEATH OF MRS. ELIZABETH SCOTT.

Ransom'd spirit, spread thy wings,
Leave thy broken house of clay;
Soar from earth and earthly things,
To the realms of endless day.

Weary pilgrim, take thy rest,
Thine has been a tiresome road;
Aching head and tortur'd breast,
Added to thy galling load.

Patient sufferer, dry thy tears,
All thy sorrows now are o'er;
Foes without, or inward fears,
Never can afflict thee more.

Faithful soldier of the cross,
All thy conflicts now are done;
Earthly triumphs are but loss,
Thine is an immortal one.

Palms of vict'ry thou shall bear,
And a crown of fadeless light
Will be given thee to wear,
And a robe of spotless white.

Thou shalt join the countless throng,
Which, through tribulation, came:
And repeat the angels' song--
"Worthy! worthy is His name

Who hath conquered death and hell;
Captive led captivity;
Always doing, all things well;
Giving us the victory!"

MY SCHOOLBOY DAYS.

The following poem was read at the forty-fifth anniversary of the
marriage of Mr. and Mrs. James Swaney, on January 11th, 1883. Mr.
and Mrs. Swaney's residence is