whut he hez bin instid of tellin' whut he's
a-goin' ter be is kivered over in the scrap-heap, world without end,
ferever en ever, Amen!" And the old man knocked the ashes from his
Missouri meerschaum and ambled into the kitchen where the long green
hung.

God Give Us Change!

God give us change! The days are long
With labors hard that make us weary,
And o'er the gladness of each song
There floats a cadence somewhat dreary;
We'd like to loaf awhile, for--say--
Some five or ten sweet years, or twenty,
And chase the dull cares all away;
God give us change and give us plenty!
God give us change! The dull days flow
With quietude that palls a little;
Just anything to make it go
And heat the steam up in the kettle;
No matter how the fortunes kind
In dull monotony prove pleasant,
We'd rather mix things up and find
A stirring scramble of the present!
We do not ask for all the gifts
To fall upon us in a tumble;
A very few where life's boat drifts
Will keep us happy through the jumble;
We only ask the mirth of men,--
Where'er we be we'll always love it,
And if the big bills vanish, then
God give us change and plenty of it!

"The Sooners."

The "Sooners" may have their faults, but as a general propositions they
are to be preferred to the "laters." Every good thing that has blest
mankind since Adam had his celebrated adventure with green goods in the
Garden of Eden, has been discovered, invented, dug out or dug up, by a
"sooner." He has always been a dare-devil whose courage was so prominent
as to attract the envy and malice of every "later" that whittled
dry-goods boxes into splinters and used his time to cuss "the
government." God bless the whole "sooner" tribe, say I, from Adam down
to General Kuroki!

The home lights! The home lights!
How they blaze and burn
Through the darkness of the shadows
Everywhere we turn!
What if stormy weather gather
On the hills we roam,
We shall refuge find forever
In the lights of home!

Stand Pat.

In the mighty game of life,
Stand pat!
Don't be moved by storm or strife,
Stand pat!
Keep within your heart a song,
And the days will not be long,
Till you conquer every wrong,--
Stand pat, stand pat!
Don't be bluffed by this or that,--
Stand pat!
Half the howls are chitter