Since gazing at the What-is-it,
I have become a convert to Darwin. It is too true. Our ancestors stood
on their hind legs, and the less we talk about pedigree the better. The
noble democrat in search of a coat-of-arms and a grandfather should
visit a grand moral circus. Let us assume a virtue, though we have it
not; let our pride _ape_ humility.
Were I asked which I thought the greater necessity of civilization,
lectures or circuses, I should lay my right hand upon my left heart, and
exclaim, "Circuses!"
YAWCOB STRAUSS
BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS
I haf von funny leedle poy,
Vot gomes schust to mine knee;
Der queerest schap, der createst rogue,
As efer you dit see.
He runs, und schumps, und schmashes dings
In all barts off der house:
But vot off dot? he vas mine son,
Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.
He gets der measles und der mumbs,
Und eferyding dot's oudt;
He sbills mine glass off lager bier,
Poots schnuff indo mine kraut.
He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese,--
Dot vas der roughest chouse:
I'd dake dot vrom no oder poy
But leedle Yawcob Strauss.
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