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A TALE FOR THE TIMES.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

Thomas must be somewhere about,

He stood and glowered like a Turk,

When - what!! - the line began to work.

"Zwei bier," - my call; - "in Heaven's name,

If you have got the old man, make him

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Remain till I can air the room

And hide the broken glass, - deuce take him!

I've burned those photographs. He knows a

Thing or two. You bet. T. Tozer."

I answered: "O. K. Don't forget

To put your French works under cover;

And as for 'Io,' why not hang

'The Death of Washington' above her?

But, if you love your life, be spry!

There 's something wicked in his eye."

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