To cure diseases casual and hereditary,
The hospital has been pulled down”—
“You flatterer!” here exclaimed the doctor, mightily pleased; but the poet went on—
“And we have made a larger cemetery.”
The Remedy
Goldy’s touching lines, “When lovely woman stoops to folly,” fare sadly in the hands of a silk dyer, who sends about a circular with this parody:
“When lovely woman tilts her saucer,
And finds too late that tea will stain—
Whatever made a woman crosser—
What art can wash all white again?