'll post you 'bout 'em all.

And the comicalist feller ever tilted back a cheer
And tuck a chaw tobacker kind o' like he did n't keer.--
There's where the feller's strength lays,--he's so
common-like and plain,--
They haint no dude about old Jap, you bet you--nary grain!
They 'lected him to Council and it never turned his head,
And did n't make no differunce what anybody said,--
He didn't dress no finer, ner rag out in fancy clothes;
But his voice in Council-meetin's is a turrer to his foes.

He's fer the pore man ever' time! And in the last campaign
He stumped old Morgan County, through the sunshine and the rain,
And helt the banner up'ards from a-trailin' in the dust,
And cut loose on monopolies and cuss'd and cuss'd and cuss'd!
He'd tell some funny story ever' now and then, you know,
Tel, blame it! it wuz better 'n a jack-o'-lantern show!
And I'd go furder, yit, to-day, to hear old Jap norate
Than any high-toned orator 'at ever stumped the State!

W'y, that-air blame Jap Miller, with his keen sircastic fun,
Has got more friends than ary candidate 'at ever run!
Do n't matter what _his_ views is, when he states the same to you,
They allus coincide with your'n, the same as two and two:
You _can't_ take issue with him--er, at least, they haint no sense
In startin' in to down him, so you better not commence.--
The best way's jes' to listen, like your humble servant does,
And jes' concede Jap Miller is the best man ever wuz!

A SOUTHERN SINGER.

Written In Madison Caweln's "Lyrics and Idyls."

Herein are blown from out the South
Songs blithe as those of Pan's pursed mouth--
As sweet in voice as, in perfume,
The night-breath of magnolia-bloom.

Such sumptuous languor lures the sense--
Such luxury of indolence--
The eyes blur as a nymph's might blur,
With water-lilies watching her.

You waken, thrilling at the trill
Of some wild bird that seems to spill
The silence full of winey drips
Of song that Fancy sips and sips.

Betimes, in brambled lanes wherethrough
The chipmunk stripes himself from view,
You pause to lop a creamy spray
Of elder-blossoms by the way.

Or where the morning dew is yet
Gray on the topmost rail, you set
A sudden palm and, vaulting, meet
Your vaulting shadow in the wheat.

On lordly swards, of suave incline,
Entessellate with shade and shine,
You shall misdoubt your lo