Then came the Nonsense Verses, and the Stories, and the Songs, and the Machine Poetry, and all the fun. Shall we not gather up some of those trifles, as worthy of preservation in our record? Yes, certainly we will. We will first start out with the machine poetry. Rhymes were furnished, which were these dreadful collocations, "give, live, dove, love, merry, cherry, go, slow, tease, squeeze, muddle, fuddle." A hopeless list surely. Dear Fred, who said he could not write poetry, evolved the following: POEM BY FRED And when a pretty orange he did give, He thought it was too sweet to live, So he gave it to his dove To ever sustain their love. One day when all was merry, He gave to her a cherry; And he said she should not go, For fear it would be slow. First he began to tease, Then he began to squeeze, Until there was a muddle-- Soon afterwards a fuddle. This realistic effort was received with rounds of applause. The next poetic effort on the procrustean rhymes was by Miss Hayden, as follows: POEM BY MISS HAYDEN Oh, why should I give, Or expect me to live, When, you called me a dove, Yet you now cease to love? I once was so merry, My lips like a cherry, I wept when you'd go, And my heart beat so slow. Then at once you would tease, And kiss me, and squeeze,-- But--my brain's in a muddle, And--you in a fuddle. This effort, too, was greeted with approbation, and its tenderness duly appreciated. But the Nonsense Verses were the best fun. One would shout out a line, an additional line would come from some one else, and by the time the whole thing was complete, it would be hard to discriminate as to who was the author. Here is one hurled at me: There was a Canon named Knowles, Whose mission it was to save souls; When out on this trip, He said, "Let them rip, We'll save them all yet from the coals." Some of our young ladies were deeply interested in the sailor boys at war, and for their benefit this nonsense had wing: There was a young lady named Harding, Whose sweetheart, the nation was guarding. The rumor of war, Went to her heart's core For fear he'd be lost while bombarding. These verses, too, have a maritime flavor: There was a young lady of nerve, Who bet on the Naval Reserve. She got a flat cap Like that of her chap, And said, "This our love will preserve." We had lots of others, and ever so many good stories, but it is time to end. This last must suffice for the Nonsense Verses: There was a young lady _en route_, Who wanted to go on a toot, So she jumped off the ca--ah When no one was ne--ah, And feasted on candy and fruit. This was the favorite refrain of all, for its reckless suggestions, and the special intonations of its third and fourth lines. Its echoes would sound out in the most unexpected connections--