THE NAVAL CONSTRUCTOR.

  He looked upon the ships as they
    All idly lay at anchor,
  Their sides with gorgeous workmen gay—­
    The riveter and planker—­

  Republicans and Democrats,
    Statesmen and politicians. 
  He saw the swarm of prudent rats
    Swimming for land positions.

  He marked each “belted cruiser” fine,
    Her poddy life-belts floating
  In tether where the hungry brine
    Impinged upon her coating.

  He noted with a proud regard,
    As any of his class would,
  The poplar mast and poplar yard
    Above the hull of bass-wood.

  He saw the Eastlake frigate tall,
    With quaintly carven gable,
  Hip-roof and dormer-window—­all
    With ivy formidable.

  In short, he saw our country’s hope
    In best of all conditions—­
  Equipped, to the last spar and rope,
    By working politicians.

  He boarded then the noblest ship
    And from the harbor glided. 
  “Adieu, adieu!” fell from his lip. 
    Verdict:  “He suicided.”

  1881.

  DETECTED.

  In Congress once great Mowther shone,
    Debating weighty matters;
  Now into an asylum thrown,
    He vacuously chatters.

  If in that legislative hall
    His wisdom still he ’d vented,
  It never had been known at all
    That Mowther was demented.

  BIMETALISM.

  Ben Bulger was a silver man,
    Though not a mine had he: 
  He thought it were a noble plan
    To make the coinage free.

  “There hain’t for years been sech a time,”
    Said Ben to his bull pup,
  “For biz—­the country’s broke and I’m
    The hardest kind of up.

  “The paper says that that’s because
    The silver coins is sea’ce,
  And that the chaps which makes the laws
    Puts gold ones in their place.

  “They says them nations always be
    Most prosperatin’ where
  The wolume of the currency
    Ain’t so disgustin’ rare.”

  His dog, which hadn’t breakfasted,
    Dissented from his view,
  And wished that he could swell, instead,
    The volume of cold stew.

  “Nobody’d put me up,” said Ben,
    “With patriot galoots
  Which benefits their feller men
    By playin’ warious roots;

  “But havin’ all the tools about,
    I’m goin’ to commence
  A-turnin’ silver dollars out
    Wuth eighty-seven cents.

  “The feller takin’ ’em can’t whine: 
    (No more, likewise, can I): 
  They’re better than the genooine,
    Which mostly satisfy.

  “It’s only makin’ coinage free,
    And mebby might augment
  The wolume of the currency
    A noomerous per cent.”

  I don’t quite see his error nor
    Malevolence prepense,
  But fifteen years they gave him for
    That technical offense.