A LIFE’S SPECULATIONS.

When a wee child I used to wonder why The bright stars fell not from the bending sky, For I no sky line saw to hold them by, When told of angels up beyond the blue, I used to wonder if the winged crew Flew races, when they’d nothing else to do. A little later, as around I played, And saw that young girls were so frail and ’fraid, I wondered why on earth a maid was made. No mortal use the timid things could be That a philosopher of six could see— So great a mystery was the sex to me. A few years more, when youth’s expansive flame Put my philosophy of six to shame, A greater mystery the sex became. Next into college I for knowledge went And wondered at the time so vainly spent— Four years for learning things not worth a cent! A year of lounging in that sacred place, Then round the world to see the human race I wandered, and my wonder grew apace. More than seven marvels had the world for me, And this the greatest: why the poor should be Slaves of the rich men, when they might be free. But having had sufficient time to cool My fancy in this tough world’s roughest school I give up life’s conundrums—as a rule. Yet such is habit—howsoe’er we try— The other day I fell to wondering why In Yankee taverns they serve cheese with pie. Henry W. Austin.