"'If I were a cassowary,
On the sands of Timbuctoo,
I'd eat a missionary—
Eat his bones and hymn-book too.'"
"I think I can make another rhyme for it," responded Frank. "You remember the Buck brothers, that spent a summer in our town once, don't you?"
"Yes," replied Fred, "I remember them well; one was short and stout, and the other tall and slim."
"Exactly so. Now, how'll this do?
"Just see how soon I write down
A rhyme for Timbuctoo:
We had at one time in our town
Stout Buck and Slim Buck too."
"Very good!" exclaimed his cousin. "But I can do as well as that without half trying. Wasn't President Buchanan sometimes called 'Old Buck,' by way of familiarity?"
"I believe he was," Frank answered.
"That being the case," said Fred, "he will do for a rhyme like this:
"To James Buchanan came a letter
From the King of Timbuctoo:
That monarch said, 'I can't do better
Than write Old Buck and Jim Buck too.'"
"That will do," was the response; "and here's another to match it: