If successful in our enterprise, our ways are never scanned, We're applauded by the populace, and praised by every tongue. But if a fell disaster crown the efforts we have planned, Our methods are at once condemned by old as well as young. All. The same black tar, By the same black stick, No matter who we are, Is laid on thick. If poor, we're marred, If rich, we kick, But we're all of us tarred With the same black stick. Owosco (derisively). Ah! here comes our worthy apology for a chief. Otsiketa. And our equally worthy medicine man. Owosco. They make a gay old couple. The one is about as useful as the other. (Enter Old Chief, closely followed by Medicine Man, both old and ugly.) Old Chief sings: I'm chief of the tribe of the Wa-wa-ta-see, As savage a savage as savage can be; I've scalped and I've murdered full many a foe— Owosco. Yes, yes; but that happened a long time ago. All. Long, long ago, we had wars in the land, Old Chief. In love-making nonsense I never took part; Owosco. Yes, yes; but that happened a long time ago. All. Long, long ago, we had wonderful chiefs, Who gathered in scalp-locks as farmers do sheaves. Old Chief. Young men, in my day, courted war's cutting claws, Owosco. Yes, yes; but that happened a long time ago. All. What wonders the men were a long time ago, Otsiketa. Say, old fellow, you must have been a great chap beyond all our memories! Owosco. I say, old chap, where did you ever manage to store all your scalps? Old Chief (to Medicine Man). What shall I say to these young men? They're getting very inquisitive! Medicine Man. I should not answer them. thing to do is to assume a dignified silence. The proper Both sing. When we're attacked at any point, Our knavery to hide, We get ourselves behind a wall A wall without a hole or chink, Where we're obscure from those who think Into our past to pry. When at our deeds they wish to peek, And interviewers mild and meek, Medicine Man. I never eased a human ill, Old Chief. I never struck a blow; Both. The potency of club or pill We neither of us know. But when our youth would question us, We assume a lofty pride, And wrap us up in a solemn cloak Of silence dignified. John Barr. You haven't heard about my friend the Professor's first OU experiment in the use of anesthetics, have you? He was mightily pleased with the reception of that poem of his about the chaise. He spoke to me once or twice about another poem of similar character he wanted to read me, which I told him I would listen to and criticise. One day, after dinner, he came in with his face tied up, looking very red in the cheeks, and heavy about the eyes. "Hy 'r' ye?" he said, and made for an arm-chair, in which he placed first his hat and then his person, going smack through the crown of the former, as neatly as they do the trick at the circus. The Professor jumped at the explosion as if he had sat |