Show HARK FROM THE TOMB OUr poor old mummified morning contemporary sat up in it Its sarcophagus a little to give vent to ta taits its chronic hatred of mankind Soured by political embittered by public contempt which surrounds it fog it is embalmed in is its own gall gall pickle pickled In it its own venom Through the seven ages of f It passe passed as mOle morose arid and spiteful in its nurses af arni as when ss sans ever everything thing i it railed against the word world Or hul hurls the imp impo impotent tent wrt wrath of decrepitude against against its adversaries a as the they pass it in the march pf t progress Doubtless it were best bent to ta it it to ta say that ever every sudden change of mind and heart it shows shaws is the result Of de deep p re reasoning and changed allow the village ogre as it were e to ta coon croon and cur curse and throw stone stones from fram the portal of f its tomb But the is temptation to tease It in Into o giving a fesh fresh of f grotesque contortions and pIcturesque pIcturesque esque profanity Is Ofen often too taa strong to ta resist At such times i wi tell teU the storo story of the the has be been and what it did for sl nil ver in campaIgns ere the the present population or of the the ert earth w wa waborn bor born and whImper over the lak lack of t thuma huma human it hd bed before it crossed it its political St StI Styx I It i is alwa always s the same name old the same old ld tale the same Old cur hig of some rich mn man who incurred the dis displeasure pleasure of is Its evi evil genius by embark leg ing in a business whIch Interfered with is Its much may be Inferred from of its hated hatred To i hour quarrel d t temp i l tinder lder the circumstances kowing knowing a as we do the secret ecret ot f It Its would be a an assault upon that superstitious reverence which in jt It an occasional crust in te the cm corn There is no ses sense In ghosting silver bulet bullets at spectres Tr is na flO ue use of f answering the echo echoes of the tomb There is nothing to be by cast casting g lug ing ruin Of a stone at a a rn wih within whoso windows wind w t tire owl owls of ancient hatred sIt and hoot oat |