"All flesh is grass," so do the Scriptures say;
But grass, when cut and dried, is turned to hay;
Then, lo; if Death to thee his scythe should take,
God bless us! what a haycock thou wouldst make.
* * * * *
An author that lived somewhere has such a _brilliant_ wit, that he
contracted to light the parish with it, and did it.
"Our church clock," say the editors of a down-cast paper, "_keeps time_ so
well that we _get_ a day out of every week by it."
A man in Kentucky has a horse which is so slow, that his hind legs always
get first to his journey's end.
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