I beg leave at this time to present to the public a melodious gem of song which I am positive cannot fail to give satisfaction.

It will withstand the rigors of our mountain clime as well as the heat and moisture of a lower altitude.

It is purely unpartisan, although it may be easily changed to any shade of political opinion. It is cheap, portable and durable, and filled with little pathetic passages that will add greatly to the enthusiasm of presidential contests.

It is true that some harsh criticism has been called down upon this little chunk of crystallized melody, as I may be pardoned for calling it, and it has been suggested that it is too much fraught with a gentle, soothing sense of vacuity, and that there is nothing in it particularly one way or the other.

This I admit to be in a measure true. There is nothing in it as a poem, but it must be borne in mind that this is not a poem. It is a campaign song.

Campaign songs never have anything in them. They don't have to.

Editorials and speeches have to express human ideas and little suggestions of original horse sense, but the campaign song is generally distinguished by a wild, tumultuous torrent of attenuated space.

They are like the sons of great men—we do not expect any show of herculean intellectual acumen from them.

Directions.—Set up the song with the feed bar down and pitman reversed. Then turn the thumbscrew that holds the asterisks in place, take them out and lay them away in the upper case, and in proper compartment.

Next set up desirable candidate, unless you can get candidate to set them up himself, slug the standing galley, oil the cross-head, upset the tripod, loosen the crown sheet a little, so that the obvious duplex will work easily in the lallygag eccentric, and turn on steam.

Should the box in which the lower case candidates are stored get hot, sponge off and lubricate with castor oil, antifat and borax in equal parts.

Keep this song in a cool place.

(Air—Rally Round the Flag, Boys.)

Oh, we'll gather from the hillsides,

We'll gather from the glen,

Shouting the battle cry of....,

And we'll round up our voters,

Our brave and trusty men,

Shouting the battle cry of....

Chorus.

Oh, our candidate forever,

Te doodle daddy a,

Down with old...,

Turn a foodie diddy a,

And we'll whoop de dooden do,

Fal de adden adden a,

And don't you never forget it.

Oh, we'll meet the craven foe

On the fall election day,

Shouting the battle cry of...,

And we'll try to let him know

That we're going to have our way,

Shouting the battle cry of,

Chorus.

Oh, our candidate forever, etc.

Oh, we're the people's friends,

As all can plainly see,

Shouting the battle cry of...,

And we'll whoop de dooden doo,

With our big majority,

And don't you never forget it.

Chorus.

Oh, our candidate forever, etc.