The Washington critic., 1886-07-08
GENERAI AND CRIrIouLAR.

Possibly no person VIII has ever visited
the gallery Of the House has failed TO notice
that the lion. William NJ. Springer Of
Illinois always wears in his buttonhole
beautiful rose. Sometimes II IL but bud,
again It is the full bloom flower, as II the
man mark cd tn. D- IT,. ~tiOns of to-day, OF
the frultions Of yesterday by this voIoo'css
bi,t speaking symbol Yet, few know the
cause OF this man't falth'ulness to the queen
Of flowers. Listen, then. Many, many
years ago, when Mr.. Springer was only
college freshman, whose eyes were filled
with the beauty OF the world, but whose
soul was saddened by the knowledge that
all life was nceting, and man was born
only to die, he wrote poem in minor
key, whose music was as tears falling upon
tender lenrtstrings, and this poem he
called "Dead Rosesn The editor Of the
village paper knew Mr.. sprInger's family,
and pleased with the young Students
cffoit to crown himself with bays and
laurel, he accepted the poem, and the lad
went to his room thinking Of the glorious
golden future, whose doors were opening
before him on noiseless hinges. lie had
never written for the press before, aud In
his youthful innocence he trusted all to the
editor, and waited with poetic longing for
the paper to appear, which would Introduce
him to fame, and teach the world In its
age what he had learned so young.
1t was on Wednesday, a beautiful
day In June, when the sun kissed the
flowers In field aud In fen, that the young
poet went TO the Office for the paper. 1t
was there, cold and stll aud expressonless,
but pregnant with thought aud feeliug
when the creative spirit sho ild touch 1t
into being. with throhbng heart he
took the ltelcss sheet In his trembling
hands and eagerly he scanned It's pages,
seeking the most Remote positions first,
that he might enjoy TO the full the search
for his treasure. At last he found ton
the first page, standing forth bold as a bca.
con light, aud as the tears streamed from
his eyes he bowed his head and kissed his
souls offspring sleeping there in its cradle
of type. Then he brushed the joyful tears
away and looked again to read. Horrors
upon horrors, what does he see? "Dead
RosesYn All, no. The iiendish hand of
the intelligent compositor has done its
cruel work, and there, staring in hideous
black letters, the sensitive youth found the
words, "Deud ilorses.n With piteous
moan he flung the hated thing aside, and,
steeling his heart against the Muse, he gave
mp poesy forever aud went into politics.
But the "Dead Roses" are not forgotten,
and in remembrance of them Mr.. Springer
each day wears a rose in his button-hole.
PS. The reason is obvious why he does
not wear a horse there instead OF rose.
See the melon--watermelon
Green rind and sweet red hearted
See the melon-watermelon,
With its luscious insides parted
See our Bobby-happy Bobby,
Full Of boyish fun and frollc
See our Bobby! See the melon,
But you cannot see the collie
Call around tonight.
oh, bring us q cold wave from Manitobaw,
You needn't to cook 1t, just bring 1t on raw,
And serve 1t on ice, with light dash of
snow,
Stirred in with an icicle. Here's a quarter
now go!
rTOstcu Chhe 10 tnc proper buuneI lOOu.
In the pension bill business the President
does not expect to reach vetotal until
Congress adiourns.
Congressman Cannon Of Illinois made a
speech yesterday against the pension We
toes.
"Who is that speakergn asked q man,
OF simple, granger mieH,
"le's bout as active with his mouth
As any have seen.n
"Ah, that is Cannon" said the guide;
The granger gave a nod
swell, we'll" he said, sit roars just like
They'd loaded 1t with wad."
He hangs on tree, all the long summer
day,
Caterpillar caterpillar caterpillar
And he drops down your back in plain,
simple way,
Caterpillar caterpillar caterpillar
| Then you swear at the worm that is climb
ing your spine
In manner most dreadful, profanely con-
dign.
But for one that is lost, there are ninety
and nine
Caterpillars! caterpillarsl caterpilars
hope that Grover will veto the mos.
| quito bill. NJ. s. b.
Miss Kate Field, now at Newport, X. l.,
was almost paralyzed recently by receiving
letter whose envelope bore the Chicago
postmark, and the following tender linel
written in a fairy-like chirography:
My Cousin Kate-whose family name
Is Field (how dear 1t is TO Fame ~
AT Newport now abides;
The furtive clam she degns to WOO
And angles for the oyster, too,
| Amid the surging tides.
Trolling for fish, she loves to troll,
In rolling bark her barcarolle,
And sren-like she calls;
Or Hitting the senile Neptune she
Revels like 1.-the Terrsichore
In may Goldfish balls.
| To her, so tender aud so fair,
| | prithee, gentle postman, bear
This missve from me straight;
The while will right thankful be
That Fortune has vouchsafed to me I.
SO sweet Cousin Kate.
That was all, except "Newport, r. I.,n |,
the blue-pencil lines OF the postal authori
ties, and Miss Fields heart went pit-a-pa
for as much as five minutes, and she said b
ten persons at least 81 wonder who 1t CA
be from ~ and then she opened 1t an,
found the name of the Rev. Eugene Fiel
Of the Chicago Necs signed to 1t. Tn
shock was great, but Miss Field will prot
ably recover under the inyigorating in
| nuopoaG of tba salt ena air ~ Nauno,,