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Show Rippling' Rhymes i By WALT MASON. I Iv A SORDID TIMES. We're so busy profiteering that we 1 haven't time to read, and the publish-j Jers are fearing that their trade will 'go to seed. Everyone is talking prices, flown so high they break- the heart, and that sore of stuff suffices to divert I our thoughts from Art. I would talk! I of books and writers when tho evening eve-ning shadows fall, but the cost-of-liv-ling bliehters gather round and whoop I and bawl. I would speak of good old Dante when the evening lamp is lit, I but the folks around my shanty cuss :the Cost and throw a fit. I would grind IS soulful ballad from my trusty grafo- phone, but my people, sad and pallid, - roast the profiteers and proan. When I il take my lyre and play it, neighbors neigh-bors come and break the strings, and Ptw they cry, "Come off! Belay it! We V would talk of solemn things." And their talk is all of robbers, and of .hi and that disgrace; and such hopeful hope-ful souled Micawbers as myself are 4 out of place. Oh, their talk is all of f thieving and of guys who should be It pinched, and they spend the gloaming gloam-ing grieving that no fellow has been lynched. 1 am tired of talking prices, I am tired of talking cost, and a word of that suffices to enwrap my soul in frost. m |