An' when th' President called fer men
An' a million answered th' call,
An' th' warn't 'nough guns t' go
eround,

Ol' Jeff growd suddenly tall, "I'm proud o' my country, boys," said he,

Es he chawed at th' end of a twine; An' we heard him add in accents glad: "Say, boys, thet wus mighty fine!" Ol' Jeff hed a boy o' twenty-three,

An' a strappin' good feller, too, An' when he heard th' wus goin' t' be war

He put on a suit o' blue;
An' when he started off t' th' train
Ol' Jeff never made a sign,

But he turned t' th' crowd an' said aloud:

"Say, boys, thet wus mighty fine!" An' when he read o' th' Manila fight, How Dewey had smashed a fleet, An' all the village went rippin' mad An' hollerin' in th' street,

Ol' Jeff came down through his gar

den plot

An' he leant on th' harbor vine, An' we heard him say in his quiet

I ken nae mon sae fu' o' fire
'An' weel renoon deservin'
As he that fought mid reek an' mire,
Wi' nae retreat, nae swervin,'
When Spanish shell an' Spanish gun
Besmeared the groun' sae redlie;
But his was nae the race to shun
Tho' sword an' shot be deadlie,
For, trulie, he's ae Scotchman!

It vas not gueer dis Roosevelt

Vas sooch a prave gommander;

I dells you I mineself haf felt
As pold as Alexander;

It vas der ploot, mine friends, der ploot,

Dot mages der vearless soldtier; An' dere vas none von ha'f so gootRemember vot I toldt you

As his, vor he's von Dutchman! Av course our Teddy's bould and brave,

How ilse could he be other? No foiner lad, Oi well belave,

E'er woman had for mother. Av coorse he drubbed thim Spanyards haard

Down there at Santiago;
He's not the spalpeen to be scared
At any div'lish Dago,

Because, begob, he's Oirish!
Vraiment! Zees Tayodore ees grand!
Parceque he ees a Frenchman;
But dinna reck ae Scot is bond

To serve as any's henchman;
Dere vas no nation on der earth
So bold as vas der Deutscher;
An' ivery mon av anny worth
Is Oirish in the future,
As Teddy is this prisent!
-W. D. Fox.

GUAM.

AN AGE of wonders dawned on

Guam,
Beneath the touch of Uncle Sam!
A time of restlessness and light

ARMY DIET.

MY father says 'at sojers is

The braves' mens 'at ever was; 'At when they hears the shots go "Whiz!"

They don't mind it a bit, bekuz The whiz means 'at you ain't got hit, An' so they ist don't keer a bit.

Pa says 'at sojers knows a lot,

An' they can walk "ist like one man,"

An' aim so well 'at every shot

Will hit a sneakin' Spaniard, an' He says they have to eat "hard tacks” An' carry "raccoons" on their backs.

And plenty of courage, too. So give him a place in the family, lads,

We've plenty for him to do.

At sea he chaffs the sailor men,
And joins in their daily work
With all his might (though he'd rath-
er fight),

For he never was built for a shirk. So sling his hammock up for'ard, lads, And teach him to use the dirk.

On land he cibows and jostles about,
Or marches all day in the sun,
With a cheery smile for every mile,
And a frolic when day is done;
But when you get in a skirmish, men,
He doesn't know how to run.

Then fill your mugs to the young'un, lads,

Who mixes with every crew; On land or sea, wherever he be, We'll always find him true, And we'll give him a place in the family, lads,

For there's plenty for him to do.