ds in your grip.
You would scorn to be shy on your ante, I'm certain,
But skinning your Uncle you're rather expert in.

Well, I'm proud that no taint of the sort touches me.
(For I've never been over the water, you see.)

Your yardstick's a yard and your goods are all wool;
Your bushel's four pecks and you measure it full.
You are proud of your business integrity, yet--
(Don't fret!
There is always a "yet,")
I never have noticed a sign of distress, or
Disturbance in you, when the upright assessor
Has listed your property somewhere about
Half what you would take were you selling it out.
You're as true to the world as the world to its axis,
But you chuckle to swear off your personal taxes.
As for me, I would scorn to do any such thing,
(Though I may have considered the question last spring.)

You have notions of right. You would count it a sin
To cheat a blind billionaire out of a pin.
You have a contempt for a pettiness, still--
(Don't chill!
There is always a "still,")
I never have noticed you storm with neglect
Because the conductor had failed to collect,
Or growl that the game wasn't run on the square
When your boy in the high school paid only half fare.
The voice of your conscience is lusty and audible,
But a railroad--good heavens! why, that's only laudable.

Of course, _I_ am quite in a different class;
For me, it is painful to ride on a pass!

THE WORLD RUNS ON.

So many good people find fault with God,
Tho' admitting He's doing the best He can,
But still they consider it somewhat odd
That He doesn't consult them concerning his plan,
But the sun sinks down and the sun climbs back,
And the world runs round and round its track.

Or they say God doesn't precisely steer
This world in the way they think is best,
And if He would listen to them, He'd veer
A hair to the sou', sou'west by west.
But the world sails on and it never turns back
And the Mariner never makes a tack.

Or the same folk pray "O, if Thou please,
Dear God, be a little more circumspect;
Thou knowest Thy worm who is on his knees
Would not willingly charge thee with neglect,
But O, if indeed Thou knowest all things,
Why fittest Thou not Thy worm with wings?"

So many good people are quite