THE NATIONAL GUARDSMAN I'm a gorgeous golden hero And my trade is taking life. Hear the twittle-twittle-tweero Of my sibillating fife And the rub-a-dub-a-dum Of my big bass drum! I'm an escort strong and bold, The Grand Army to protect. My countenance is cold And my attitude erect. I'm a Californian Guard And my banner flies aloft, But the stones are O, so hard! And my feet are O, so soft! THE BARKING WEASEL You say, John Irish, Mr. Taylor hath A painted beard. Quite likely that is true, And sure 'tis natural you spend your wrath On what has been least merciful to you. By Taylor's chin, if I am not mistaken, You like a rat have recently been shaken. To wear a beard of artificial hue May be or this or that, I know not what; But, faith, 'tis better to be black-and-blue In beard from dallying with brush and pot Than to be so in body from the beating That hardy rogues get when detected cheating. You're whacked about the mazzard rather more Of late than any other man in town. Certes your vulnerable back is sore And tender, too, your corrigible crown. In truth your whole periphery discloses More vivid colors than a bed of posies! You call it glory! Put your tongue in sheath!-- Scars got in battle, even if on the breast, May be a shameful record if, beneath, A robber heart a lawless strife attest. John Sullivan had wounds, and Paddy Ryan-- Nay, as to that, even Masten has, and Bryan. 'Tis willingly conceded you've a knack At holding the attention of the town; The worse for you when you have on your back What did not grow there--prithee put it down! For pride kills thrift, and you lack board and lodging, Even while the brickbats of renown you're dodging. A REAR ELEVATION [He can speak with his eyes, his hands, arms, legs, body--nay, with his very bones, for he turned the broad of his back upon us in "Conrad," the other night, and his shoulder-blades spoke to us a volume of hesitation, fear, submission, desperation--everything which could haunt a man at the moment of inevitable detection.--_A "Dramatic Critic."_] Once Moses (in Scripture the story is told) Entreated the favor God's face to behold. Compassion divine the petition denied Lest vision be blasted and body be fried. Yet this much, the Record informs us, took place: Jehovah, concealing His terrible face, Protruded His rear from behind a great rock, And edification ensued without shock. So godlike Salvini, lest worshipers die, Averting the blaze of his withering eye, Tempers his terrors and shows to the pack Of feeble adorers the broad of his back. The fires of their altars, which, paled and declined Before him, burn all the more brightly behind. O happy adorers, to care not at all Where fawning may tickle or lip-service fall! IN UPPER SAN FRANCISCO I heard that Heaven was bright and fair, And politicians dwelt not there. 'Twas said by knowing ones that they Were in the Elsewhere--so to say.