THE POMPOUS MAN

I do not like the pompous man; I do not wish him for a friend; he's

built on such a gorgeous plan, that he can only condescend; and when he

bows his neck is sprained; he walks as though he owned the earth--as

though his vest and shirt contained all that there is of Sterling

Worth. With sacred joy I see him tread, upon a stray banana rind, and

slide a furlong on his head and leave a trail of smoke behind.