"Deceased died owin' me f'r a cyclopeedy!" sez Higgins.
"That's a lie!" sez Peasley. "We seen him pay you for the Z!"
"But there's another one to come," sez Higgins.
"Another?" they all asked.
"Yes, the index," sez he. So there wuz.
Reprinted by permission of the author.
ECHO
BY JOHN G. SAXE
I asked of Echo, t'other day
(Whose words are often few and funny),
What to a novice she could say
Of courtship, love, and matrimony.
Quoth Echo plainly,—"Matter-o'-money!"
Whom should I marry? Should it be
A dashing damsel, gay and pert,
A pattern of inconstancy;
Or selfish, mercenary flirt?
Quoth Echo, sharply,—"Nary flirt!"
What if, aweary of the strife
That long has lured the dear deceiver,
She promise to amend her life,
And sin no more; can I believe her?
Quoth Echo, very promptly,—"Leave her!"