UNCLE WIGGILY'S PHILOSOPHY (Continued)

A crutch must Uncle Wiggily use.
It's striped red, white and blue.
As jolly as a barber pole
That's just been painted new.
But he's a great philosopher—
When once he lost his purse,
He only smiled and gaily said:
"Oh, well! It might be worse!"

So, if you can, I really wish
You'd follow his advice.

"Twill make 'most any trouble seem

Much better in a trice.

And thus I'll bring unto an end

My simple little verse,

And say, with Uncle Wiggily:

"Oh, well! It might be worse!"

-HOWARD R. GARIS.

A RHYME

'M about to compose a fine rhyme

I'

With deep thought and plenty of thyme,

Although if I do it

I'll probably rue it,

Should the sentence at all fit the chryme.

-JAMES F. Fielder.

(Governor of New Jersey.)

WHY

THE BABES OF JERSEY

WHY give them fresh milk, and why dress them in silk?

To save them,-how much is it worth?

Some time, without doubt, the truth must come

out,

That New Jersey's the place of their birth.

-MELVILLE E. STONE.

I

THE WEE LIFE

SEE it first, how small it seems,

Begging so hard a right to live,
Seeking for strength to fight its fight,
Pleading for me its chance to give.

Come, little soldier, take up your arms,
Milk is your musket for weeks to come;
Pure it must be, I'll see to that,
Just a bit of sweet and a little fat.

The world is wide, you're weak and frail,
You'll drop by the wayside and lose the trail;
Your foe is so fierce with germs and things
To take you off on its spirit wings.

Just look at their forces, this precious throng! Can we let them go, can we do them wrong? Must they struggle alone as the arrows fly? Can we see them fall so soon and die?

Oh, hail to the Baby, and make him grow,
Give him the best you have and know;
His God and his State demand his life
With a baby strong for his manhood strife.

(DR.) CHARLES Gilmore Kerley.

A

DISCONTENT

WEALTHY man named Oscar Kling
Owns all the mines in Ishpeming;
His house, his books, his objets d'art,
His limousine, his open car,

His furniture, his clothes, his wife,
His children and his social life
Combine to make him thought of, there,
As Fortune's favorite and heir.

And yet I've sometimes had impressions
That he is sick of his possessions
And bored with all the things he owns.
At night he lies in bed and groans,
And envies Hadj, the orange man
Who sells his wares in Ispahan.

And as for Hadj, the orange man,
The poorest wight in Ispahan,
He has no family, no wife,
No children and no social life.
At night he finds an alleyway,
A packing-box or pile of hay,
And dreams he is an iron king-
The richest man in Ishpeming.
He's bored with wearing tattered togs
And being growled at by the dogs;