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THE BURNING OF STOUGHTON.

BY SIR W-LT-R SC-TT.

Perchance some superhuman power

Braces her up, - perchance despair.

She only said, "Is Snodkins there?"

The tumult surges, through the air

Loud rings the cry, "Is Snodkins there?"

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With that, straight o'er the fence there strode

Two Juniors drenched and wet,

And on the ground a dripping load -

A drownded boy - they set.

His collar lost, his breeches torn,

His mustache singed, his eyebrows gone,

Two huge black smooches in their place, -

Can that be nobby Snodkins' face?

'T is he! 't is he! - he opes his eyes,

And gazes round in wild surprise.

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