And now (worse sacrilege than that) you
Propose to take yon regal statue,
That godlike effigy, and make a gun
Of WILLIAM ONE!

What will _He_ say when you reduce
His Relative to cannon-juice?
The prospect must be pretty rotten
If thus the Never-To-Be-Forgotten
Is treated, like the corpses of your friends,
For useful ends.

I hear the ALL-HIGHEST mutter, "Ha!
They're liquefying Grandpapa!
The nation's needs, that grow acuter,
Count sacred things as so much pewter;
Even my holy crown may go some day
Down the red way!"

O.S.

* * * * *

LE SENEGALAIS.

Samedou Kieta sat up in bed with a child's primer open before him.
"M--A," he spelled. Then, after an incredibly long time of patient
puzzling, "M--A--MA. Oui, MA. Y a bon!" and embraced the whole ward in
one wide white grin before turning to the next syllable, "M--A--N." Once
more the puzzled frown on the black face, once more the whispered hints