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Show For Shame. The horac-cair poetry was progressing progress-ing very smoothly, and disclosing tho new-found inner-consciousness of many a poetic genius, when that infamous Courier-Journal chipped in with this miserable burlesque, which has driven every respectable mews , out of the field: la a deep, sweat ektp lice tho weary workare, Untroubled by dreams or horrid uight-marc. uight-marc. Now hark! what ia thit -on the qi-iet niglit air? 'lis the voice of the pot of tho dof-jwn-air A creature of hoibo and flets and hairt Ayelpinp, troubIoi'iiue; worthies! cair, And on hia nock ther ia no collaro. IIo has chased poor Puis up a 6hado-lror baro, And determined to bark till day ihill appuir. Tho ileepcr itiri and growls "Ily gri'c," Then vainly attorapt U lecp onco mnir, Thon e;Uj right up on hU torlurod e-nir, And otl to tho poor doth hdlonj loar, And yells ferocioLely, "Got out. there!" I Then back to hia couch all chillod doth repair-Rut repair-Rut louder and londor b:irks that cftir Till tho weary worknro k01 up to ft chair, And till morning ho curc.-s the dow-own- air. |