EPIGRAM ON A VERY LARGE WOMAN.
“All flesh is grass,” so do the Scriptures say;
But grass, when cut and dried, is turned to hay;
Then, lo; if Death to thee his scythe should take,
God bless us! what a haycock thou wouldst make.
An author that lived somewhere has such a brilliant wit, that he contracted to light the parish with it, and did it.
“Our church clock,” say the editors of a down-cast paper, “keeps time so well that we get a day out of every week by it.”
A man in Kentucky has a horse which is so slow, that his hind legs always get first to his journey’s end.