  PHILLIP BAILEY. O OH, ho, hum! my sakes alive! Where is my old 'rithmetic? Here 'tis: five times one are five. This most makes a fellow sick! Let me see: well, four times eight, Guess I'll have to take a look; I'm so sick of this old slate. Wish the scamp that made this book Had to sleep on stacks of rules, Covered up with multiplication! Don't see who invented schools— Meanest things in all creation! KEPT IN FOR STUDY. KEPT IN FOR STUDY. It must be done before I go! press on! surmount the rocky steeps; Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch; He fails alone who feebly creeps; He wins who dares the hero's march. Be thou a hero! let thy might Tramp on eternal snows its way, And through the ebon walls of night, Hew down a passage unto day. Vase DECORATION FAIRIES—OR FIRE-FLIES.
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