It's a purty steep climate old Brown's in; And the rains there his ducks nearly drowns in The old man hisse'f wades his rounds in As ca'm and serene, mighty nigh As the old handsaw-hawg, er the mottled Milch cow, er the old rooster wattled Like the mumps had him 'most so well throttled That it was a pleasure to die. But best of 'em all's the fool-breaks 'at Abe don't see at all, and yit makes 'at Both me and you lays back and shakes at His comic, miraculous cracks Which makes him--clean back of the power Of genius itse'f in its flower-- This Notable Man of the Hour, Abe Martin, The Joker on Facts. O. HENRY WRITTEN IN THE CHARACTER OF "SHERRARD PLUMMER" O. Henry, Afrite-chef of all delight!-- Of all delectables conglomerate That stay the starved brain and rejuvenate The mental man. Th' esthetic appetite-- So long anhungered that its "in'ards" fight And growl gutwise,--its pangs thou dost abate And all so amiably alleviate, Joy pats its belly as a hobo might Who haply hath attained a cherry pie With no burnt bottom in it, ner no seeds-- Nothin' but crispest crust, and thickness fit, And squshin'-juicy, and jes' mighty nigh Too dratted drippin'-sweet fer human needs, But fer the sosh of milk that goes with it. "MONA MACHREE" "_Mona Machree, I'm the wanderin' cr'ature now, Over the sea; Slave of no lass, but a lover of Nature now Careless and free._" --T. A. Daly. Mona Machree! och, the sootherin' flow of it, Soft as the sea, Yet, in-under the mild, moves the wild undertow of it Tuggin' at me, Until both the head and the heart o' me's fightin' For breath, nigh a death all so grandly invitin' That--barrin' your own livin' yet--I'd delight in, Drowned in the deeps of this billowy song to you Sung by a lover your beauty has banned, Not alone from your love but his dear native land, Whilst the kiss of his lips, and touch of his hand, And his song--all belong to you, Mona Machree! WILLIAM McKINLEY CANTON, OHIO, SEPTEMBER 30, 1907 He said: "It is God's way: His will, not ours be done." And o'er our land a shadow lay That darkened all the sun. The voice of jubilee That gladdened all the air, Fell sudden to a quavering key Of suppliance and prayer. He was our chief--our guide-- Sprung of our common Earth, From youth's long struggle proved and tried To manhood's highest worth: Through toil, he knew all needs Of all his toiling kind-- The favored striver who succeeds-- The one who falls behind.