HALL POINTERS, AND

TT

didn't mak no entry, cos

the evenin I saw the reporter passin our house, on his way to Trinity churchyard, so I run up stairs and borrered one of ma's nite gownds and nite caps, wot she wares wen she's 'mbracin morfeeus. Then I tuk a short-cut down to the seminery. I'd jest got there, and was puttin the last touches to my gostley toilet, wen I seen the reporter comin i

ou, encroachin on the peece and quiet of our la

etent boss of the New York Demmercrazey

here I sit down, "now covered from earthly vue. I am Stalwart Conklin, the stallwart of the Rerpublikan partie, doomed f

and givia mine a urthly pull, soon as he found out he warnt

looence is going to carry to the Wite House. If you've got eny spare change, put her up on Winnyfield Skot Hancock, and count Mr. Conklin in Secretarry of State, but don't yer never giv it away, cos I'm p

porter, as I shoved the bottel in my pistil

s detaled in divishuns to wach all the semerneries in the hope of interviewin' the gost of James G. Blame, a