To that High Place o'er Portland's central block, Where the Recording Angel stands to view The sinning world, nor thinks to move his feet Aside and look below, came flocking up Inferior angels, all aghast, and cried: "Pennoyer, Governor of Oregon, Has said, O what an awful word!--too bad To be by us repeated!" "Yes, I know," Said the superior bird--"I heard it too, And have already booked it. Pray observe." Splitting the giant tome, whose covers fell Apart, o'ershadowing to right and left The Eastern and the Western world, he showed The newly written entry, black and big, Upon the credit side of thine account, Pennoyer, Governor of Oregon. Y'E FOE TO CATHAYE O never an oathe sweares he, And never a pig-taile jerkes; With a brick-batte he ne lurkes For to buste y'e crust, perdie, Of y'e man from over sea, A-synging as he werkes. For he knows ful well, y's youth, A tricke of exceeding worth: And he plans withouten ruth A conflagration's birth! SAMUEL SHORTRIDGE Like a worn mother he attempts in vain To still the unruly Crier of his brain: The more he rocks the cradle of his chin The more uproarious grows the brat within. SURPRISED "O son of mine age, these eyes lose their fire: Be eyes, I pray, to thy dying sire." "O father, fear not, for mine eyes are bright-- I read through a millstone at dead of night." "My son, O tell me, who are those men, Rushing like pigs to the feeding-pen?" "Welcomers they of a statesman grand. They'll shake, and then they will pocket; his hand." "Sagacious youth, with the wondrous eye, They seem to throw up their headgear. Why?" "Because they've thrown up their hands until, O, They're so tired!--and dinners they've none to throw." "My son, my son, though dull are mine ears, I hear a great sound like the people's cheers." "He's thanking them, father, with tears in his eyes, For giving him lately that fine surprise." "My memory fails as I near mine end; How _did_ they astonish their grateful friend?" "By letting him buy, like apples or oats, With that which has made him so good, the votes Which make him so wise and grand and great. Now, father, please die, for 'tis growing late." POSTERITY'S AWARD I'd long been dead, but I returned to earth. Some small affairs posterity was making A mess of, and I came to see that worth Received its dues. I'd hardly finished waking, The grave-mould still upon me, when my eye Perceived a statue standing straight and high. 'Twas a colossal figure--bronze and gold-- Nobly designed, in attitude commanding. A toga from its shoulders, fold on fold, Fell to the pedestal on which 'twas standing. Nobility it had and splendid grace, And all it should have had--except a face! It showed no features: not a trace nor sign Of any eyes or nose could be detected-- On the smooth oval of its front no line Where sites for mouths are commonly selected. All blank and blind its faulty head it reared. Let this be said: 'twas generously eared.