Then Petrie he rose and said: "Mrs. Roselle, I have an engagement and bid you farewell." "You see," she began to explain--but not he!-- Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iee. The Sheriff he came and he offered his arm, Saying, "Sorry I am for disturbin' you, marm, But business is business." Said she, "So they say-- Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iay." The Judge on the bench he looked awfully stern; The District Attorney began to attorn; The witnesses lied and the lawyers--O my!-- Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iyi. The chap that defended her said: "It's our claim That he loved us no longer and told us the same. What else than we did could we decently do?-- Sing tooral, iooral, iooral ioo." The District Attorney, sarcastic, replied: "We loved you no longer--that can't be denied. Not having no eyes we may dote on you now-- Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iow." The prisoner wept to entoken her fears; The sockets of Petrie were flooded with tears. O heaven-born Sympathy, bully for you!-- Sing tooral, iooral, iooral ioo. Four jurors considered the prisoner mad, And four thought her victim uncommonly bad, And four that the acid was all in his eye-- Sing rum tiddy iddity iddity hi. COUPLETS Intended for Inscription on a Sword Presented to Colonel Cutting of the National Guard of California. I am for Cutting. I'm a blade Designed for use at dress parade. My gleaming length, when I display Peace rules the land with gentle sway; But when the war-dogs bare their teeth Go seek me in the modest sheath. I am for Cutting. Not for me The task of setting nations free. Let soulless blades take human life, My softer metal shuns the strife. The annual review is mine, When gorgeous shopmen sweat and shine, And Biddy, tip-toe on the pave, Adores the cobble-trotting brave. I am for Cutting. 'Tis not mine To hew amain the hostile line; Not mine all pitiless to spread The plain with tumuli of dead. My grander duty lies afar From haunts of the insane hussar, Where charging horse and struggling foot Are grimed alike with cannon-soot. When Loveliness and Valor meet Beneath the trees to dance, and eat, And sing, and much beside, behold My golden glories all unfold! There formidably are displayed The useful horrors of my blade In time of feast and dance and ballad, I am for cutting chicken salad. A RETORT