A TOAST TO OUR NATIVE LAND.
Huge and alert, irascible yet strong,
We make our fitful way 'mid right and wrong.
One time we pour out millions to be free,
Then rashly sweep an Empire from the Sea!
One time we pull the shackles from the slaves,
And then, quiescent, we are ruled by knaves,
Often we rudely break restraining bars,
And confidentially reach out toward the stars.
Yet under all there flows a hidden stream,
Sprung from the Rock of Freedom, the great dream
Of Washington and Franklin, men of old,
Who knew that freedom is not bought with gold;
This Land we love, our heritage,
Strange mixture of the gross and fine, yet sage
And full of promise,--destined to be great,
Drink to Our Native Land--God bless the State!
--Robert Bridges in the Atlantic.Here's to the man who loves his wife,
And loves his wife alone,
For many a man loves another man's wife,
When he ought to be loving his own.
TOAST TO THE HORSE.
Dr. Kane, President of the New York Drivers' Association, at a public dinner recently delivered the following toast to the horse:
"That bundle of sentient nerves, with the heart of a woman, the eye of a gazelle, the courage of a gladiator, the docility of a slave, the proud courage of a king, and the blind obedience of a good soldier. The companion of the desert and the plain; that turns the moist furrow in the spring in order that all the world may have abundant harvests; that furnishes the sport of Kings; that with blazing eye and distended nostril, fearlessly leads our greatest Generals through carnage and the smoke of battle to glory and renown; whose blood forms one of the ingredients that go to make the ink in which all history is written, and that finally, mutely and sadly, in black trappings, pulls the humblest of us all to the newly sodded threshold of eternity."
OUR ABSENT FRIENDS.
Although out of sight we recognize them with our glasses.
FALSE FRIENDS.
Here's champagne for our real friends,
And real pain for our sham friends.
OUR INCOMES.