Gems In Verse

Would you learn to tuunel through the hills, Or solve most knotty problenis? Find an antidote for all the ills, Or dissipate hobgoblins? Ascertain the distance frora the stara Far in yonder heavenly span From Júpiter to fabled Mars? Ask the intellectual man. Would you know the protoplasmic germ That floats within our water? The name of a thousand leuged worm, Or that of Pharaoh's daughter? Tlie fruit that most abundaut grows In eastern Hindostán? Yhy, reference make to one who knows- The intellectual man. Ent if you wish to learn the latest score; The horae that won the race; Tle shop that has the awinging door; Which fellow sets the pace; Where eyes have ever softest glow. In England or Japan; If you reaLly have a wish to know- Don't ask the intellectual man. - Columbia Spectator. Right H ere at Home, Right bere at home, boys, in old Hoosierdom, Whero strangerg allus joke us when they come. And bTag o' thcir old states and interprize- Yit settle here; and, 'fore they realize, They're "hoosier" as the rest of us, and live Right liere at home, boys, with their past fergive"! Right here at home, boys, is the place, I guess, For me and you and plain old happineas; We hear the world's lots grander- likely so - We'll take the world's word for it and not go. We know its ways ain'tour ways- so we'll stay Right here at home, boys, where we know the way. Right here at home, boys, where a well to do Man's plenty rich enough- and knows it, too. And 's got a' extry dollar any time To boost a teller up 'at wants to climb And 's got the git up in him to go ia And git there, like he purt'nigh allus kinl Right here at home, boys, is the place fer us- Where folks' hearts' bigger 'n their money pu's; And where a common feller's jes' as good As ary other in the neighborhood. The world at large won 't worry you and me Right here at home, boys, where we ort to be. Right here at home, boys- jest right where we air - Birds don't sing any sweeter anywhere; (irass don't grow any greener 'n she grows Acrost the pastur' where the old path goes- All things in earshot's purty, er in sight, Right here at home, boys, ef we size 'em right. Right here at home, boys, where the old home place Is sacred to us as our mother's face. Jes' as we rickolleet her, last she smiled And kissed us- dyin so and rickonciled, Seein us all at home here- none astray- Right here at home, boys, where she sleeps today. -James Whitcomb Riley. Wlio Knows? Philosophy assumes to teil How happened this, how happened that; Reasons of sequence passing well, By process none may cavil at. If this be true, then that must be; And so on, it seems very plain; But what rules human destiuy? We ask and cannot ascertain. The deeds we do, the words we say, May serve a purpose, or may not; Some soul may be a wreek today Through some light word, long sinee f orgot. "Mistakes," says Science; yet the wise, Whose far gaze traces the rolling epheres, Grope blindly through life's mysteries And weep, with others, human tears. Philosophy cannot forecast The workings of one human breast; Nor trace the springs of action, past; Life is a riddle at the best. We plan what we shall be and do, While bars of fate around us close. That strain or stroke may not break through; We plan and purpose, but- who knows? -Ellen P. Allerton. A Prosperous Couple. Wall, wife, it's fifty years ago sence you an me wuz tied, An we hev clum the hills er life together side by side. How we hev prospered, hain't we, wife? and how well off we be- W'en we wuz spliced we owned one oow, an now, Rosh, we own three. I owed five hundred on this farm, five hundred dollars then, But I hev prospered far beyond the gen'l ron er men. A kindly Providence hez shaped the rough course of events, An now I owe four twenty-five an thirty-seven odd cents. 'Twas only fifty years ago you only had one dress, To aggravate your beauty and inerease your lovelíness; Now you've got two scrumptious dresses, an a most tremendous bonnet, With a monst'ous horticult'ral fair a-flourishin upon it. Three chaira wuz in our sittin room but fifty years ago, But we hev prospered wonderf'ly, an now there's flve, you know. We've gained a lamp, a puddin dish, an extra yoke er steers, A grin'stone, an a dingle cart, an all in fifty years. It's all true wa't ouv pastor said, the worl moves fast today, An with a quiek, electric whiz goes spinnin on its way; It jest goes spinnin on its way until ita work is done, But there's few spinners, my dear wife, who've spun ez we have spun. - S. W. Foss. The Usual Oversigtat. "Had I best run the risk? Shall I make her my wife?" Thus lie mused while considering the Btep oí bis life. "Will her wit entertain me, her beauty attract?" He tried to remember some virtue she lacked. "Can she save, be Bubmissive and loving at once, Or and purr like the average dunce? Can she make her own dresses, prepare all the meals. Do ftway with the bang and wear sensible heels?" He thought it all over, then made up his mind That she was as perfect as any he'd flnd. 'Til have her," at last he decided; but woel He'd forgotton to weigh up her possible no. - Judge. Conslstency. Reproach me not, though it appear, While I true doctrines teach, I vrhoUy fail in my career To practice as I preach. Yon guidepost has, through countless daya, "To London" pointed on. Nor once has quit the angled ways. And up to London gone. - Doane Robinson. Our Ideal. Have we not all, 'mid life's petty strife, Some pure ideal of a noble life That onee seemed possible? Did we not hear The flutter of its wings, and feel it near, And just within our reach? It was. And yet We lost it in this daily jar and fret. But still our place is kept and it will wait Ready for us to fill it, soon or late. No star is ever lost we once have seen; We al ways may be what we might have been. - Adelaide A. Procter. The higlier literatura- Books ftount! in cloth.