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Show Rippling I Rhymes I I By WALT MASON. I THE GRAYBEATiDS. I There's somo delight in being old, H for ono is licensed then to scold and H view things with alarm; I hang around H tho marketplace and let some brlud IH run down my face, and talk of things H that harm. I tear my hair and wrina H my fins and talk of all existing sins aa H though thoy modern were; and I do- nounce the thriftless Jays r,ho blow H their coin in forty ways, and fill the H air with fur. But truly, in the uiiclent H times the giddy lads blow in their H dimes just as they blow them now; H and people mortgaged their abodes pi for trotting nags to burn the roads, as graybcards must allow. Tho poor- y 1 . house reared Its front of brlcK and ' , gathered in the thriftless hick, just aa ! it docs today; and paupergravo3, be- . i hind the kirk, were made for those f ';' who wouldn't work, hut spent their I hours in play. I know those facts and f many more, but when I'm in tho Bluo f ;i Front store, discussing timely themes, t I boost the past as something bright, a noble structure, fair and white, on j which the sunlight gleams. 3 knock f the sawdust from the truth; thoy 6. j wouldn't stand It from a youth, but I I am bent and gray; and as I ramble on I and on. they merely sit around and E yawn until I drift away. |