In his sleeves, which were long,

He had twenty-four packs, Which was coming it strong,

Yet I state but the facts;

And we found on his nails, which were taper, What is frequent in tapers,-that's wax.

Which is why I remark,

And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark

And for tricks that are vain,

The heathen Chinee is peculiar,

Which the same I am free to maintain.

The Society upon the Stanislaus.

I RESIDE at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James;

I am not up to small deceit or any sinful games;

And I'll tell in simple language what I know about the row That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow.

But first I would remark, that it is not a proper plan
For any scientific gent to whale his fellow-man,
And, if a member don't agree with his peculiar whim,
To lay for that same member for to "put a head” on him.

Now nothing could be finer or more beautiful to see
Than the first six months' proceedings of that same Society,
Till Brown of Calaveras brought a lot of fossil bones
That he found within a tunnel near the tenement of Jones.

Then Brown he read a paper, and he reconstructed there, From those same bones, an animal that was extremely rare; And Jones then asked the Chair for a suspension of the rules,

Till he could prove that those same bones was one of his lost mules.

Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile, and said he was at

fault,

It seemed he had been trespassir g on Jones's family vault;
He was a most sarcastic man, this quiet Mr. Brown,
And on several occasions he had cleaned out the town.

Now I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent
To say another is an ass,—at least, to all intent;
Nor should the individual who happens to be meant
Reply by heaving rocks at him, to any great extent.

Then Abner Dean of Angel's raised a point of order, when A chunk of old red sandstone took him in the abdomen, And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor,

And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more.

For, in less time than I write it, every member did engage
In a warfare with the remnants of a paleozoic age;
And the way they heaved those fossils in their anger was
a sin,

Till the skull of an old mammoth caved the head of
Thompson in.

And this is all I have to say of these improper games,
For I live at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful
James;

And I've told in simple language what I knew about the

row

That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow.

Luke.

(IN THE COLORADO PARK, 1873.)

Wor's that you're readin'?-a novel? A novel !—well darn my skin!

You a man grown and bearded and histin' such stuff ez that in

Stuff about gals and their sweethearts! No wonder you're thin ez a knife.

Look at me!-clar two hundred-and never read one in my life!

That's my opinion o' novels. And ez to their lyin' round

here,

They belong to the Jedge's daughter-the Jedge who came up last year

On account of his lungs and the mountains and the balsam o' pine and fir;

And his daughter-well, she read novels, and that's what's the matter with her.

Yet she was sweet on the Jedge, and stuck by him day and

night,

Alone in the cabin up 'yer-till she grew like a ghost, all

white.

She wus only a slip of a thing. ez light and ez up and

away

Ez rifle smoke blown through the woods, but she wasn't my kind-no way!