The undersigned offers for sale to the highest bidder, up to Doomsday next, several choice lots of tombstones. Bidders will state price and terms of payment, and accepted purchasers will remove the monuments from their present localities, at their own risk. The lots are:
1st. A gravestone of white marble. It is about 65 feet square at the base, and is the frustrum of a pyramid, truncated at about 140 feet. It is filled with a square hole, upon the sides of which are inscriptions let into various colored marbles, and in the languages of the peoples who inhabited a great country ages ago. The stone was designed to be put over the remains of PRO PATRIA, a personage once celebrated for loyalty and wisdom, but whose teachings are now well nigh forgotten, and whose name even is fast being obliterated from the memories of radical improvers of governments and republican institutions. This lot may be seen south of the mouth of Goose Creek, in a district called Columbia.
2d. A gravestone consisting of a square house of Illinois marble, with a piece of a smoke-stack protruding from the roof. About one-third of the estimated cost had been expended, when the persons who were to furnish the means suddenly concluded that the Little Giant could sleep just as well in a filthy unmarked hole in the ground, as under a pile of marble. Besides, being dead, he couldn't get any more offices for his constituents, so they found out they didn't care a cuss for him. Further information about this stone can be obtained by applying to any citizen of Chicago.
3d. A monument which we haven't seen, and so can't describe. It is supposed to be at Springfield, Illinois, and was intended for a person once called a railsplitter—a man much homelier than the typical hedge fence, but as good as homely. He was thought to be a second PRO PATRIA, MOSES, or some such person, and was sworn by, by millions of people who would now almost deny ever having heard of him. At the time he went out everybody wanted to put up a gravestone immediately—almost before he needed one. Now, everybody isn't altogether enough to provide one. For further particulars about the Springfield stone, inquire of any red-hot radical.
There are some other lots, but we will not offer them until we see how the present ones go off.
GHOUL, Undertaker.
~LATEST ABOUT "LO!"~
The Irrepressible Black having been repressed, here comes the Irrepressible Red! HIAWATHA is cutting up a great variety of capers as well as of unfortunate settlers. Should you ask us why this bloodshed, Why this scalping and this burning, Why this conduct most disgraceful, Why these crimes of the Piegans, Why this sending forth of soldiers, Why the perils of the railway, known as and called the way Pacific, (which it won't be if these actions are allowed to go unpunished,) We should tell you—whiskey! to say nothing of the indomitable propensity which rises in the Piegan bosom for scalps. The noble Son of the Forest is an amateur in scalps; as some of us are all for old books and others for old coins. But however much we may respect the enthusiasm of the wild Rover of the Plains, in making these collections of cranial curiosities, we feel that the red virtuoso is really going too far—at least we should feel so, we have no doubt, if he were taking off our own private scalp, which is a very handsome one, and which we hope to be buried in. No; the Piegan passion for scalps must be suppressed. But how? Some say by more whiskey. Some say by less. Some say by none at all. We are for the more instead of the less. There is whiskey and whiskey. Now our idea would be to send an unlimited supply of the more deadly variety of that exhilarating fluid, (highly camphened,) to the convivial Piegans. After an extensive debauch upon this potent tipple, very few Piegans would be likely to take the field, either this summer or any other. They would be Dead Reds, every rascal of them.
