The Carson Daily Appeal

Sickness and health have been having a
game with me.

Tossing me just like a ball, to and fro:

Pleasure and pain have been doing the same

with me,

Treating me simply like something to throw.

Joy took me up to the clouds for a holiday,

In a balloon that she happens to keep;

Then, as a damp upon a rather jolly day,

Grief, in her diving-bell, took me down deep.

Poverty came pretty early—bad luck to her!

Truly, she makes an affectionate wife.

I, like a fool, have been faithful and stuck

to her;

She'll stick to me for the rest of my life.

As for our children, (I wish we had drowned

them all;)

Those I regard as the worst of my ills;

How can you wonder to hear me confound

them all,

Seeing that most of those children are

BILLS?

Hope, who was once an occasional visitor,

Never looks in on us now for a chat.

Memory comes, though—the cruel inquisitor!

(Not that I feel much the better for that')

Hope was a liar; there's no use denying it;

Memory's tales are decidedly true;

Yet I confess that I like, after trying it,

Hope's conversation the best of the two.

-HENRY S. LEIGH.