jes' ez sassy ez ef he bin doin' right all his days, an' ez ef he bin raised wid dat voice stidder stealin' hit way f'um ol' man Tarr'pin."
BY BAY AND SEA
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS
The little rills of poesie
That flow from Helicon
Sometimes escape into the sea
And rest there all unknown.
While others, finding surer guides,
Fall into happier ways,
And go to swell the rising tides
That make the Poet's bays.
BILL NATIONS
BY BILL ARP
You never knowd Bill, I rekun. Hes gone to Arkensaw, and I don't know whether hes ded or alive. He was a good feller, Bill was, as most all whisky drinkers are. Me and him both used to love it powerful—especially Bill. We soaked it when we could git it, and when we coudent we hankered after it amazingly. I must tell you a little antidote on Bill, tho I dident start to tell you about that.