The Graduate.

ou are old, ‘Father World,’” cried the Graduate, “But for one of your age and size, I feel it is only my duty to state You are not uncommonly wise.”

ou are old, ‘Father World,’” cried the Graduate,

“But for one of your age and size,

I feel it is only my duty to state

You are not uncommonly wise.”

“I am aged,” replied Father World, “it is true. And not very wise I agree. Do you think tho’ it’s fair for a scholar like you To abuse an old fossil like me?” Said the youth, “I refer not to college degrees, Nor dates that one crams in his skull, I complain not because you are lacking in these, But because you’re so awfully dull!

“I have studied you now I should think more or less For twenty-one years, and I know You right through and through, and I can but confess You are really confoundedly slow.” Said the world, “My dear sir, you are right, there’s no crime Like dullness—henceforth I will try To be clever—forgive me! I’m taking your time, Perhaps we’ll meet later! Good-bye!” LATER. “You are cold, Father World, and harden’d forsooth,” Cried the man, “and exceeding wise, And for any offensive remarks of my youth I beg to apologize.”