Good Editor Dana--God bless him, we say! Will soon be afloat on the main, Will be steaming away Through the mist and the spray To the sensuous climate of Spain. Strange sights shall he see in that beautiful land Which is famed for its soap and Moor, For, as we understand, The scenery is grand, Though the system of railway is poor. For moonlight of silver and sunlight of gold Glint the orchards of lemons and mangoes, And the ladies, we're told, Are a joy to behold As they twine in their lissome fandangoes. What though our friend Dana shall twang a guitar And murmur a passionate strain-- Oh, fairer by far Than these ravishments are The castles abounding in Spain! These castles are built as the builder may list-- They are sometimes of marble or stone, But they mostly consist Of east wind and mist With an ivy of froth overgrown. A beautiful castle our Dana shall raise On a futile foundation of hope, And its glories shall blaze In the somnolent haze Of the mythical lake del y Soap. The fragrance of sunflowers shall swoon on the air, And the visions of dreamland obtain, And the song of "World's Fair" Shall be heard everywhere Through that beautiful castle in Spain. REID, THE CANDIDATE. I saw a brave compositor Go hustling o'er the mead, Who bore a banner with these words: "Hurrah for Whitelaw Reid!" "Where go you, brother slug," I asked, "With such unusual speed?" He quoth: "I go to dump my vote For gallant Whitelaw Reid!" "But what has Whitelaw done," I asked, "That now he should succeed?" Said he: "The stanchest, truest friend We have is Whitelaw Reid! "There are no terms we can suggest That he will not concede; He is converted to our faith, Is gallant Whitelaw Reid! "The union it must be preserved-- That is this convert's creed, And that is why we're whooping up The cause of Whitelaw Reid!" "If what you say of him be sooth, You have a friend indeed, So go on your winding way," quoth I, "And whoop for Whitelaw Reid!" So on unto the polls I saw That printer straight proceed While other printers swarmed in swarms To vote for Whitelaw Reid. A VALENTINE. Four little sisters standing in a row-- Which of them I love best I really do not know. Sometimes it is the sister dressed out so fine in blue, And sometimes she who flaunts the beauteous robe of emerald hue; Sometimes for her who wears the brown my tender heart has bled, And then again I am consumed of love for her in red. So now I think I'll send this valentine unto the four-- I love them all so very much--how could a man do more? KISSING-TIME.