God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds And furnished them wings to fly; He sowed our spawn in the world’s dim dawn, And I know that it shall not die. Though cities have sprung above the graves Where the crook-boned men made war, And the ox-wain creaks o’er the buried caves, Where the mummied mammoths are.
Then as we linger at luncheon here, O’er many a dainty dish, Let us drink anew to the time when you Were a tadpole and I was a fish.
Ed. Note: Above striking poem is reproduced at the special request of a friend.
Bargain In Books
We have a few copies left of the bound volumes of the Jeffersonian Magazine for 1907, which we will give away as a premium or sell at a greatly reduced price.
As a premium you can secure these two handsome volumes for three subscribers to the Weekly or to the Magazine at one dollar each. On receipt of your remittance of three dollars we will send you the books.
During the year 1907 Mr. Watson contributed to the Jeffersonian Magazine some of the ablest and most thoughtful articles that have come from his pen.
The two volumes are well bound, finely illustrated, and contain serial stories, fiction and cartoons. They form a pictorial history of the world for the year.