THE PROCESSIONAL.

When Julius Caesar met his death,

He muttered in his dying breath:

“It is not patriotism now

Prompts you to break your friendship's vow.”

Quoth Brutus, as he stabbed again

The greatest of his countrymen:

“You're in this fix

Through politics.”

As on his path Columbus sped,

A sailor to the great man said:

“Without a break, without a bend,

The broad Atlantic has no end.”

And to the sailor at his side,

‘ Tis rumored, that great man replied:

“I guess I know.

You go below.”

The snow fell fast on Russia's soil,

The soldiers, wearied with their toil,

Cried: “‘ Tis not possible that we

Our native France again shall see.”

Stern ever in the face of death,

Napoleon said beneath his breath:

“Go take a walk,

I hate such talk.”

A cherry tree lay on the ground,

On George's body, pa did pound;

“But pa,” George cried, “It seems to me

That you are wrong; dis ai n't your tree.”

The old man sadly shook his head

And to his wayward son he said:

“Do n't lie to me

I know my tree.”

When Dewey on his flagship sailed,

The Spaniards never even quailed.

“Oh, it ai n't possible,” said they,

“For him to reach Manila Bay.”

But Dewey merely smiled in glee,

“It is n't possible?” quoth he,

“Why, hully gee,

Just wait and see.”

Thus onward as through life we go,

Amid the pomp, and glare, and show,

We oft some proverb misconstrue

And mutter boldly, “‘ Tis not true.”

But in their calm, majestic way,

We hear the tongues of wise men say:

“You go way back

And then sit down.”