umid, Pan,
'Tis so hot and humid, Pan,
And for all my trying, Pan,
There is no denying, Pan,
I can't think, poor sighing Pan,
Of you save as frying, Pan.

It was after reading the above, when it dropped out of my coat pocket
during one of our visits to the wood-shed, that Adam expressed the
profound conviction that I was born to be hanged, but as I have
already intimated, neither his sense of justice, nor his sense of
humor was notable.

Once in awhile I tried a bit of satire, and when my son Noah first
began to show signs of mental aberration on the subject of a probable
flood that would sweep everything before it, and put the whole world
out of business save those who would take shares in his International
Marine and Zoo Flotation Company, I endeavored to dissuade him in
every possible way from so suspicious an enterprise. Failing to
impress my feelings upon him in one way, I fell back upon an
anonymously published poem, which I hoped would bring him to his
senses. The lines were printed in red chalk on the board fence
surrounding his Ship-Yard, and ran as follows:

MARINE ADVICES

O Noah he built himself a boat,
And filled it full of animiles.
He took along a billie-goat,
A pug and two old crocodiles.

A pair of very handsome yaks
A leopard and hyenas two;
A brace of tender canvas-backs,
A camel and a kangaroo.

A pair of guinea-pigs were placed
In state-rooms off the main saloon,
Along with several rabbits chaste,
A 'possum and a gray raccoon.

Now all went well upon that cruise,
And they were happy as could be,
Until one morning came the news
That filled old Noah with misery.

Those guinea-pigs--O what a tide!--
Were versed in plain Arithmetic;
The way they upped and multiplied
Made Captain Noah mighty sick.

And four days out he turned about,
And made back to the pier once more
To rid himself of all that rout,
And put the guinea-pigs ashore.

And where there were but two of these
When starting on that famous trip,
When they got back from off the seas,
Three hundred thousand left the ship!

Poor Noah! He took this publication so much to heart that he offered a
reward of a thousand dollars, and a first-class passage on his cruise
to the top of Mount Ararat to any one who could give him the name of
the miscreant who had written the