It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy; For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen, Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green"; Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs, and ants, An' little boys get grass-stains on their go-to meetin' pants. It's June ag'in, an' with it all what happiness is mine-- There's goin' to be a picnic, an' I'm goin' to jine! One year I jined the Baptists, an' goodness! how it rained! (But grampa says that that's the way "baptizo" is explained.) And once I jined the 'Piscopils an' had a heap o' fun-- But the boss of all the picnics was the Presbyteriun! They had so many puddin's, sallids, sandwidges, an' pies, That a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyes! Oh, yes, the eatin' Presbyteriuns give yer is so fine That when they have a picnic, you bet I'm goin' to jine! But at this time the Methodists have special claims on me, For they're goin' to give a picnic on the 21st, D. V.; Why should a liberal universalist like me object To share the joys of fellowship with every friendly sect? However het'rodox their articles of faith elsewise may be, Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin' grace to me! So on the 21st of June, the weather bein' fine, They're goin' to give a picnic, and I'm goin' to jine! SHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS Shuffle-shoon and Amber-Locks Sit together, building blocks; Shuffle-Shoon is old and gray, Amber-Locks a little child, But together at their play Age and Youth are reconciled, And with sympathetic glee Build their castles fair to see. "When I grow to be a man" (So the wee one's prattle ran), "I shall build a castle so-- With a gateway broad and grand; Here a pretty vine shall grow, There a soldier guard shall stand; And the tower shall be so high, Folks will wonder, by and by!" Shuffle-Shoon quoth: "Yes, I know; Thus I builded long ago! Here a gate and there a wall, Here a window, there a door; Here a steeple wondrous tall Riseth ever more and more! But the years have leveled low What I builded long ago!" So they gossip at their play, Heedless of the fleeting day; One speaks of the Long Ago Where his dead hopes buried lie; One with chubby cheeks aglow Prattleth of the By and By; Side by side, they build their blocks-- Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks. THE SHUT-EYE TRAIN