The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1864-09-24


scene-PoIicy Shop-4-1l-44-Sniveller, sew
ing together dilapidated postage currency Grum-
bier. pasting together pieces of an old writ of |
6a5eaS corpus. Enter Aristocrat, whistling the !
Sniveller-What no! Aristocrat, thou art |
merry.
(groans), who dances on the ashes Of ruined |
country.
AIistocrat-D-n the country.
ChoIus-So say we, all of us.
Echo from Richmond-Good.
Grumber- Habeas Corpus gone Alas his fate.
Sniyeller-Weep not for corpus ts the post
age currency.
That most demands our tears.
AIstocrat-Vlains, have you heard the news
Sniyeller-What news the death of Lincoln
GIumbler--The draft postponed knew IL
The tyrant, then, TO threats Of revolution yields;
Arstocrat-No, dolts. The news 1 bring is of
our sacred cause;
Grant has fallen in the heat of battle;
The Federal army, routed, hugs the gunboats on
Zen now our friends assault the capital,
And from the lofty dome their glorious emblem
flies.
Lincoln and all his hordes on fleetest horse
Have fed the country.
Grumbler-Ye Gods, I'm amazed
Where read We this
Spiveller-'Twas in the NeioS l know it we'll
1t feedeth not on Abolition lies.
AIistocrat-(S Showing Word)-Behold the
glorious herald
Of this our darling victory.
Snyeller-The World! Upon my soul II never
Grambier-Uuless, perchauce, lie were better.
Aristocrat-(R Rings the bell II viii the servant
call;
Tis he who knows full well the virtue of this
paper.
Enter Seyraatl
Servant Did my master call Your mos
If thou sbouldst say that black were white,
I'd find authority to prove it.
Aristocrat-Is this news true Has Lincoln
And do our friends swil Bourbon in The Capitol
Seryant-Ihey do not now, your honor;
But, prythee, they might do it, il
Grumbler-Ha they might!
Thank God for those consOling words.
Sniyeller-But how Oh, that | knew the
policy
serysntS2There is a man without with pioui
Who says within his heart he bears prcciou,
secret;
But when asked his name, he sighed, and whis
pered peace.
GiumbleI-'Tis one of Lincon's victims
E'en Low l smell the rust Of chains
AIistocrat- Bring in the victim Of our tyrant
Enter Hypocyitel
Sniyeler-What It's Hypocrite, who alway
Weeps.
Arstocrat-Ye from shores Canadian he bring
his fearful cambric.
HypocritC-Are all before me friends Yes,
see it in your faces.
Ye would not harm the refugee from tyranny.
AristOcrat-Why cOmst thou thus at this lat
day from Canada
HypocIite-My friends, the sun is now deelin
ing,
Zen as down the verge Of ruin glides the nation
Tomorrow ! will tell you all. I've come to saw
the country.
SnYeller-By peace or war
Hypocrite-By neither, dealer in the mysti
numbers.
Aristoerat-Tho aid Of foreign gold he seeks.
Grumber = But come-to-morroW we sinai
know his thoughts;
mel 20 The banquet and drink confusion
10 our toes-the myrmidons of Lincoln.
Boyi N'''' ii0iiN'' "AN'S'1 '-'
,.f5apn .Af5yapnoerie-Methinls saw the youth in yOnde
Grumbler-What doing?
hyPocrhe-Digging with his iron shade ana
shovel. N0n 'P"NS "A'
Grumbler-Wore he no sword
Hypocrite-Yes; a rusty blade
But the shovel shOne with constant use
Sniyeller-Did he not speak 10 theel
HypOorite-As ! did fall across his ditch. 4
hOuid plight,
He cried, "Renforeements send or all is lost"