The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-07-14
Little Brother,e 1sHunch,p

Little Brothers "Hunch."
So, you're goin' to marry my sisterl
She told us about 1t last night,
And said II you wasn't So handsome
You was otherwise jest about right.
Ma looked sort O. wild for n minute
l guess she was thinkin' of you
But pa only said that he reckoned
Twas mebbe the best she could do.
She gave us a sort Of a sample
OF what you've been sayin' to her.
or love howin' deep as the ocean
An heavens that never'd blur.
or how you believed her an angel
Just loaned TO the earth from tho sky.
But pa said she oughtn't to worry
You'd git over all that by an by.
An say now. she amt bad fellow
As long we let her be boss.
'Cept when she gifts up in the mornin'
She's apt to be snappy an cross.
/ reckon she's told you bout Harry
That gave her the diamond ring,
An how when she found 1t was bogus
He got the elaborate fling7
Ma says she has heard you are Eighty
An somewhat inclined to be fast.
But mebbe that after you're married
You'll cut yourself loose from the past
Sis says its wild oats you are sowing,
But she will Jest gamble her boots
That when you are cnched as her husband
You'll quit agriculchul pursuitA
There's one thing I'll say fur my sister.
She never paints up fur beau:
Jest rolls up her foretop in papers,
Fur frizzes become her. you know.
An ma says regardin' her figgre
She's lucky that she kin escape
| A-havin' dressmaker help her
Build up to presentable shape
I think when you git in the harness
You're goin to work double all right:
| She'll never kick over the traces
If the marriage bandwagon runs light
Jest do the square thing an you'll find her
| The sweetest old rose in the bunch,
| But if you-say-cheese 1t! She's commit
Don't tell her I've give you hunchi
| Denver Post.
| Sleep II a Sen.
Sleep is a sea: We leave the landmarks Of
the day,
The song of birds, the bells Of sheep, and
drift away.
Sleep is sea: the lights fade out along the
shore,
Across hopes bar the floods Of memory
| pour,
And now the sweet voice Of tho night IL
in our ears
Once out beyond the headland We forget
our fears.
Far out upon the tide the darkness softer
grows;
We fix our eyes upon a star. but no one
| knows
The chartless track. Sleep is sea; far. fal
the shore
| Good night! We shall come back to yester
day no more,
But following the distant calling Of thu
deep.
We set our sails and steer down. down te
down in sleep.
Martha Gilbert Dickinson.
In the Nineties.
Il "Hot weather." the pessimist hollers,
And vain are the hopes OF man.
Thank heaven for rubber collars.
| And the old palmetto fan!
Atlanta Constitution.
Tragedy.
II did cali for thee. Fair Queen"
IL He said,
Eyes, oft and oft called.
, And oft and oft 1 bawled.
And could have won the fight, ween,
4 If thou hadst come to me. Fair Queen,
He said.
I "And Oft called for thee. Dear Jack"
She said.
a Yes oft I've wooed, and sang,
And could have beat the whole shehanI.
II thou hadst quit the nleasIy pack
> OF idlers, and had come to me. Dear Jack.
She said,
III.
0 Thus Queen Of Diamonds. and the damon
Jack.
q Crowded at each other in the musty pack.
But the game was lost and the say was sale
|. So they fell into the jackpot dead.
Nav Orleans T1meS.DemoCfaf.