whole peck from one plate. For true when I think of the places we eat at, Or rather the places by hunger when driven We rush in and swallow our bread and our meat at, A bushel good measure in life will be given To those who are living a “boarding-house life,”     Or those who are driven by fortune to journey, And eat when we must with so dirty a knife, I wish't could be done by the power of attorney; Or where you must eat in a place called “saloon;”     Or “coffee-house” synonym of whisky and rum;    (I wish all the breed were sent off to the moon, And earth was well clear of the coffee-house scum;)    Or where “Restauration” hangs out for sign, At bar-room or cellar or dirty back room, Where dishcloths for napkins are thought extra fine, And table cloths look as though washed with a broom; Where knives waiters spit on and wipe on their sleeves, And plates needing polish, with coat tails are cleaned; Where priests dine with harlots, and judges with thieves, And mayors with villains his worship has screened.     {ILLUSTRATION: “WHERE KNIVES WAITERS SPIT ON AND WIPE ON THEIR SLEEVES, AND PLATES NEEDING POLISH, WITH COAT TAILS ARE CLEANED."} 

  

  

       Things That Mortals Eat There.     

    And what do you eat in the mess there compounded? For roast beef, the gravy the soap-man should claim—    The soup some odd things might turn up if sounded, And other “made-dishes” might turn up the same. Decoctions that puzzle your chemical skill, You get if you call either coffee or tea; And milk that is made with and tastes of the swill, As like milk, as wine is that often we see Is like to the juice of the grape in perfection, Or like as the candidate after election Is like the fair thing that we hoped or expected Before the base thief was exposed or detected; As like truth and virtue—and more is the pity—    The men we elected to rule our own city. In “council” while sitting, though “common” we call them, In common opinion, if people at large Are's common in morals, no worse could befal 'em If Satan should take them at once in his charge. If food as their filth was as plenty for diet, No lack would they feel of the coveted cash, Or power they maintain with the power of a riot, When heads of opponents are served up as hash By Star-chamber cooks of the club “restoration,”     That rules now the city and would rule the nation, If “Sachems” were willing the “Wigwam” to yield, And give the arch-traitor a fair fighting field.     {Illustration: “JACK WARDEN 

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