working for Humanity. It are mirthful to see them. When Christian Marters was being nipped by lions. perhapsly Roman Senators buy tickets & have pleasant afternoon of laughter. Occasions like these are enjoyed by all. Roman Senators admired it because it was a circus; lions relished it because it was a lunch; Marters enjoyed it because they was Marters. This is equally true about Suffergetters. Yesterday I read a news-editorial from paper which say, "If Women vote America must go to the pups." enjoy great sadness to think of this. I was sure someI thing would happen to America a soon as Hon. Roosevelt got away-and here is! With outstretched eyes I read this scared print. Hesay: "Day-by-hour Women of America are clamoring for the ballot. 'Vote for us!' they say with screeches. In huj droves they are abandoning home-life, stenography, sweat-shops, comic-opera & other sweet, domestick influences. In nearly every neighborhood some lunch lies cold upon a neglected hearth. Female Crime are growing at a palling rate. Last week more Ladies was arrested for Suffergetting than for horsestealing. The Nation has fallen into a deep crisis. If Women vote, America must go to the pups!" I was so fascinated by this horble news that I make hop-step to telefone & jingle up Hon. Editor who wrote it. "How-do, Central!" I say to Hon. Telefone, "are Hon. Editor there where you are?” "He are less here," report youth-voice from beyond. "Could you answer intelligent questions as well?" I ask-it. "Better," say-out Voice. "I am the Office Boy." "Hon. Sir," I corrode, "your Printer made some news recently which-say, 'America will soon go to the Pups.' Could you tell me, please, at what date this event will arrive?" "The Pups?" require Hon. Office Ladd. "I am not aware of any such baseball team by that name." So he hang-off telefone. Mr. Editor, I begin to feel like a Suffergette without no equal franchise. I would join a parade if I could find one. "Japanese Boys," I say, "also cannot vote in America. Therefore they will enjoy slavery among other ladies." I get so sympathetic with Solid Female Vote that I go to look for one. So I elope to residence of Mrs. Lusy Macdonald, 286-lbs. complete beauty. I find her in backyard punishing Turkish rugs with a broom-handle. "Hon. Mrs. Madam," I say-so to this gentle sex, "why should you be a slave? Please make high-jump to freedom before it is too late! Uplift yourself!" She cease that dusty labor & look to me with glass eye. "Togo," she explain, "you are talking garbage again. How could a lady of my average weight do such an uplift?" "But are you not walked down by the bootware of the Gentleman Tyrant?" I ask it. "Search me for any manly feetprints," she say invitingly. I neglect to do so. "Mrs. Lusy Macdonald," I otter, "should you not extend some pull to your female sisters?" "Perhapsly so," she growel & struck Hon. Carpet extra shock with broomhandle. I am disgusted by her weak attitude. "Must you stand there," I require, "must you stand there idly beeting carpets while some Male Tyrant boss. over you with mean sneer like Mr. Nero-" "Mr. Nero was just as good a Tyrant as Mrs. Cleopatra & twice as respectable," she fire off. “I never I could bear that Woman." "Who was this Mrs. Cleopatra you say off?" I request. So Mrs. Lusy Macdonald tell me this scandalous gossip what happen to Egypt: Mrs. Cleopatra (she say) were a Lady Suffergette who got elected to President of Egypt. At first she were above approach-a very Tafty kind of politician who receive delegates from Memphis, Tenn., with gently smiling. But soonly she become less-so. She appoint very cross postmistress at Cario, Ill., learn to smoke Pittsburg cigarettes, make sweetheart eye-wink to Aunt Josie Cannon, lady-speaker of the House, & chop entire Socialist party off at neck. Finally the Good Govt League got so scan dalled about this Lady that Hon. C. J. Caesar, Mayor of Rome, sail for Egypt with a Peace Fleet intending for to give Mrs. Cleopatra a war scare. But soonly he return home with baldheaded expression of one who has been Rude to a Lady. "What was your impression of Cleopatra?" ask a Roman reporter for interview. "Sic terror alibi!" say Mr. Caesar, which were a pretty mean curse to throw at a Lady, even in those early dates. Mrs. Cleopatra were Politickal Boss of Egypt for 103 years, and she looked even younger. But one day she found she could not do no more harm to Egypt, so she got mad & killed herself by being stung by a wasp which was concealed in a basket of lemons. When Mrs. Macdonald stop-off telling me this sad news I ask, "What do this prove about Suffergettes?" "When Ladies is too uplifted they are apt to get too top-lofty," report Hon. Lusy. "Then you refuse to be strong & vote?" I ask earnestly. "I prefers to be a poor, weak woman of gentle & retiring habits," says Mrs. Macdonald. So she hit Hon. Carpet another punish with broom-handle. Mr. Editor, I wish to join my penmanship with such distinguished names as Katherine de Medici, Col. George Harvey, Joan of Arc, Mrs. Carry Nation, Sappho, Mary Queen of Scotch & May Irwin. Like them distinguished Suffergettes I know that if the Ladies want anything & don't get it, it is because they don't want it. When the Ladies does get the vote they will show what foolish things they can do with it. But is not that what the Vote is for? If the Sterner Sex have used it that way for so long, why shouldn't the Crosser Sex get a chance? He Liked Music Going to the village band concert to-night?" 66 Then why don't you go to the band concert?" 66 'Because I like music. Paddy's Content BY LAWRENCE KYRLE DONOVAN. Paddy McShane had no shoes to his feet- And his houghs they looked red as he tramped in the street, Och, wirrahoo! But he said: "Is it shoes that ye'd stick on me toes? How'd me feet feel the ground, sorra one of ye knows; And who'd pay for mendin' 'em, do you suppose? Go off wid ye-do! Paddy McShane had no hat on his head- And the rain it came down on his red scratch, instead― But he said: "Is it God's blessed sunshine and air dare! For a trifle of rain or av wind, who would care? Paddy McShane had just nothing at all- But he thought: "When I'm down, there's no distance to fall;" And he would sing: "Faix, the merciful Master is good to his poor; The Wedding Journey He: Dearest, if I had known this tunnel was so long, I'd have given you a jolly hug. She: Didn't you? Why, somebody did. Immortality BY WILLIAM KNOX. [This poem was first repeated to Lincoln by Dr Duncan of New Salem, who found it in an almanac. It was no uncommon thing for the Great President, when overcome with sadness and sorrow, to break out in the dirge-like lamentation, "Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal be Proud?"] Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud? The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade. Be scattered around and together be laid; And the young, and the old, and the low, and the high, Shall moulder to dust and together shall lie. The infant, a mother attended and loved; The maid on whose brow, on whose cheek, in whose eye, Are the memories of those who loved her and praised. The hand of the king, that the sceptre hath borne, The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap; The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep; The saint, who enjoyed the communion of heaven; |