Black Beetles in Amber

The graves cracked open everywhere,
  Like pods of early peas.
Up to the Court of Heaven sped
  The souls of all mankind;
Republicans were at the head
  And Democrats behind.
Reub. Lloyd was there before the tube
  Of Gabriel could call:
The dead in Christ rise first, and Reub.
  Had risen first of all.
He sat beside the Throne of Flame
  As, to the trumpet's sound,
Four statesmen of the Party Came
  And ranged themselves around—
Pure spirits shining like the sun,
  From taint and blemish free—
Great William Stow was there for one,
  And George A. Knight for three.
Souls less indubitably white
  Approached with anxious air,
Judge Blake at head of them by right
  Of having been a Mayor.
His ermine he had donned again,
  Long laid away in gums.
'Twas soiled a trifle by the stains
  Of politicians' thumbs.
Then Knight addressed the Judge of Heaven:
  'Your Honor, would it trench
On custom here if Blake were given
  A seat upon the Bench?'
'Twas done. 'Tom Shannon!' Peter cried.
  He came, without ado,
In forma pauperis was tried,
  And was acquitted, too!
Stow rose, remarking: 'I concur.'
  Lloyd added: 'That suits us.
I move Tom's nomination, sir,
  Be made unanimous.'

TIDINGS OF GOOD

Old Nick from his place of last resort
  Came up and looked the world over.
He saw how the grass of the good was short
  And the wicked lived in clover.
And he gravely said: 'This is all, all wrong,
  And never by me intended.
If to me the power should ever belong
  I shall have this thing amended.'
He looked so solemn and good and wise
  As he made this observation
That the men who heard him believed their eyes
  Instead of his reputation.
So they bruited the matter about, and each
  Reported the words as nearly
As memory served—with additional speech
  To bring out the meaning clearly.
The consequence was that none understood,
  And the wildest rumors started
Of something intended to help the good
  And injure the evil-hearted.
Then Robert Morrow was seen to smile
  With a bright and lively joyance.
'A man,' said he, 'that is free from guile
  Will now be free from annoyance.
'The Featherstones doubtless will now increase
  And multiply like the rabbits,
While jailers, deputy sheriffs, police,
  And writers will form good habits.
'The widows more easily robbed will be,
  And no juror will ever heed 'em,
But open his purse to my eloquent plea
  For security, gain, or freedom.'
When Benson heard of the luck of the good
  (He was eating his dinner) he muttered:
'It cannot help me, for 'tis understood
  My bread is already buttered.
'My plats of surveys are all false, they say,
  But that cannot greatly matter
To me, for I'll tell the jurors that they
  May lick, if they please, my platter.'

ARBORICULTURE

[Californians are asking themselves how Joaquin Miller will make the trees grow which he proposes to plant in the form of a Maltese cross on Goat Island, in San Francisco Bay.

New York Graphic