"Tell me, dear mother,
Hast the swallows homeward flode
When the clock strikes nine?
Does our WILLIE'S spirit roam
In that home
Beyond the skies,
Along with LIZE?
Say, mother
Say--"
The other verses are, if anything, better than this. If you are anxious
to publish this poem entire, why not leave out the pictures and all the
reading matter from PUNCHINELLO for two weeks, and show the public what
genius, brains, and ability can accomplish, unaided? If you publish it
in detachments, it weakens it, you see. If the verses can't lean against
each other, they pine away immediately.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE YOUNG DEMOC TRYING TO PUT THE BIG SACHEM'S PIPE OUT.
_Big Sachem_. "SAY, YOUNG MAN, AIN'T YOU AFRAID YOU'LL BURN YOUR
BREECHES?"]
* * * * *