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Show oo ;f ! WALT MASON POTTER'S 1 III l I Oh, here arc rows and rows of graves, the cheapest graves you ever saw; the beds of futile, fooiish knave who thought that they could beat the law. When thev are planted no one sighs, no hymns are sung, no pray is are said; no mourners bend with I weeping eyes above the couches of j these dead. From workhouse ward-I ward-I and jails they come in wagons dosti-1 dosti-1 tute of plumes, from SVry corner of I the slum, to sloop in bargain counter I tombs. The sextons shovel in the clav. and from tho boneyard then with-) with-) draw! this Is the end of those who say that thev can surely beat the law. The criminal may think at times that he i not a total ioss, and ho may plan a'l sorts of crimes anel seem to put the same across: but Justice eyes him every day, ami always keep3 him In ! her mind, ami though ho lopes alonl j his way, the law is never far be-, be-, hind Pew criminals live out their days iii comfort such RS good men know. Who walk In sane and godly ways, observing statutes as they go Few crooks pass out on beds of ease, with high priced docs and nurses near; they render up their fintl l wheeze behind B wall, beneath a pier, j in some dark jail their doom Is sealej, j with no one near to heave a weep. and then they reach ''le I'otter s Field J where cheaper grades uf dead men j sleep. |