Then on the follerin’ Monday he,
Lookin’ profounder as he prowled,
This son of sin an’ mystery,
Into the Ledger orfice owled.
“An’ oh! to think,” he sadly groaned,
“That earth should bear setch skalliwogs!
Setch all-fired snakes,
And no mistakes!”
Said Mister Zion Jersey Boggs.
“Why, what is up?” asked Mr. Swain;