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THE SOCIETY UPON THE STANISLAUS.

I RESIDE at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James.

I am not up to small deceit, or any sinful games;

And I'll tell in simple language what I know about the

row

That broke up our society upon the Stanislow.

But first I would remark, that it is not a proper plan

For any scientific gent to whale his fellow-man,

And, if a member don't agree with his peculiar whim,

To lay for that same member for to "put a head" on him,

Now, nothing could be finer or more beautiful to

see

Than the first six months' proceedings of that same

society,

Till Brown of Calaveras brought a lot of fossil bones That he found within a tunnel near the tenement of Jones.

Then Brown he read a paper, and he reconstructed

there,

From those same bones, an animal that was extremely

rare;

And Jones then asked the Chair for a suspension of the rules,

Till he could prove that those same bones was one of his lost mules.

Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile, and said he was at fault.

It seemed he had been trespassing on Jones's family

vault :

He was a most sarcastic man, this quiet Mr. Brown; And on several occasions he had cleaned out the

town.

The Society upon the Stanislaus.

67

Now, I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent
Το say another is an ass,—at least, to all intent:
Nor should the individual who happens to be meant
Reply by heaving rocks at him to any great ex-

tent.

Then Abner Dean of Angel's raised a point of order

when

A chunk of old red sandstone took him in the

abdomen ;

And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor,

And the subsequent proceedings interested him no

more.

For, in less time than I write it, every member did

engage

In a warfare with the remnants of a paleozoic

age;

And the way they heaved those fossils in their anger

was a sin,

Till the skull of an old mammoth caved the head of

Thompson in

And this is all I have to say of these improper

games:

For I live at Table Mountain, and my name is

Truthful James ;

And I've told in simple language what I know about

the row

That broke up our society upon the Stanislow.

POEMS

PROM 1860 TO 1868.

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