"Quad's odds"; . DONT remember, said Bijah, as the reporterscame in, whether Shakespeare, Susan B. Anthonyor Ben Butler wrote it, but its a very affecting song, andlately it has been running in my ears half the time. Illsing a verse: His name it was Jack,His father drove hack,Plain sewing his mother did do;And a brother of hisIn position had rizTo sweep out an office or two. The old janitor was proceeding with the next verse, when his Honor camein and squelchedhim—said that acouple of cats hadkept him awakehalf the night,and he didnt careabout finishing The Cats. off with the UOtCS of a horse-


"Quad's odds"; . DONT remember, said Bijah, as the reporterscame in, whether Shakespeare, Susan B. Anthonyor Ben Butler wrote it, but its a very affecting song, andlately it has been running in my ears half the time. Illsing a verse: His name it was Jack,His father drove hack,Plain sewing his mother did do;And a brother of hisIn position had rizTo sweep out an office or two. The old janitor was proceeding with the next verse, when his Honor camein and squelchedhim—said that acouple of cats hadkept him awakehalf the night,and he didnt careabout finishing The Cats. off with the UOtCS of a horse-fiddle or a tin-pan BRACEWELL Was the first candidate out, TTis name was well braced,but his character wasnt. lie had been loafing around for 283. 234 UP AND OUT. a week or two on the ragged edge of despair, sleeping ona soft pair of stairs ordn a dry goods box, and althoughthe prospect of ever having a dollar in his pocket, or ofsecuring a square meal, was as uncertain as keeping aboarding-house in Chicago, he didnt want the police todisturb him. Youd better go up, remarked his Honor, after hear-ing the prisoners story. Oh ! lemme go this time! ]STo—cant do it. What would be said of me if it wasknown that I encouraged vagrancy ? But Ill go into the country. The country doesnt sigh for thee, Mr. Bracewell. Then Ill go to Canada. Youd become a frozen statue in lessn two hours overthere. ISTo, Mr. Bracewell, I shall have to make it sixtydays. That will let you out in March, just when thesolidity of winter is giving way to the mush of spring, andeven if you cant strike a job then, the nights wont be socold. LAST TIME. Mary Ann McClellan wiped a tear away and chokedback a sob as she admitted the charge of drunkenness, butshe prote


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Keywords: ., bookauthorquadm184, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1875