Higgledy, piggledy, we tumble in, Rats in a cage, fish in a tin, In evil dreams I travel again In a clanking, clattering French troop train, “Chevaux” eight, “Homme’s” two score Is the legend inscribed on the box-car door. All things considered, I cannot but feel That the horses get the best of the deal. We stop with a jerk and start with a wrench, And the driver gets cursed in both English and French. We start, we stop, we start once more And shunt back to where we were before; When it’s time to sleep down you flop With two men beneath you and three on top. Higgledy, piggledy, here we lie, Lice in a shirt, pigs in a sty. H. J. Smith. * * * * * =When I’m Among a Blaze of Lights= When I’m among a blaze of lights, With tawdry music and cigars And women dawdling through delights, And officers at cocktail bars,— Sometimes I think of garden night And elm trees nodding at the stars. I dream of a small firelit room With yellow candles burning straight, And glowing pictures in the gloom, And kindly books that hold me late. Of things like these I love to think When I can never be alone: Then some one says, “Another drink?” And turns my living heart to stone. —Sassoon. * * * * * When the whole blamed world Seems gone to pot And business on the bum, A two-cent grin and a lifted chin Helps some, my boy, helps some. * * * * * =The Modern Version= “Smile, and the world smiles with you; Weep, and you weep alone.” —Ella Wheeler Wilcox. Spend, and the world spends with you; Save, and you save alone. Tho’ fast be the race you’ve got to keep pace, Till you’ve spent every nickel you own. Jazz, and the bunch jazz with you; Dance, and you’re by yourself; The mob thinks it’s “jake” to shimmy and shake, For the “old-fashioned stuff’s” on the shelf. Have a “case,” and your friends will adore you; Have a thirst, and they all pass you by; For men want full measure of all your treasure, But never come ’round when you’re dry. V. V. M. * * * * *