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Show j r 1 1 111 in, Rippling' I Rhymes Bj WALT MASON I V J .. J JIM THE l'KN'HAN The greatest forger ef his day, of international renown, the other morning morn-ing took his way, all footsore, to his native town. There were no greater human sharks In all the records of the past; he skinned unnumbered easy marks, and cleaned up millions, first and l;tst. And now we see. him sadly Wend, tu seek the town where he was born, without a buck, without a friend, all In, world beaten and forlorn. "Why, ye." tho village lathers oried. ' there . 1 .1 haven for you here: the poorhou.'e doors are open wide rest there, O wreck of yesteryear " Tiiere Jlni the Penman found a stall, nor will he leave I hose dors again; and there he sits, against the wall, and thinks of all that might have been. And to the poorhouse or the Jail go ne-irly .-1 the kings of crime, whose crooked plans for reaping Uule itc up the efforts of th.n- prime The man who falrlv earns his mon, by industry, can slug and smile: the hoodooed dollar is tho H one that's trained by trickery and guile. H |