No wonder that the folks turn pale
And preachers talk of doom,
Since by each telegram and mail
Come words of awful gloom:
Explosions of N. glycerine;
Expulsion of the Pope;
Earthquakes along the Eastern line
And THE PACIFIC SLOPE.
Surely the world is upside down,
Its framework out of joint;
At coming change all things of town
And country seem to point:
The very sea some day may try
To climb the mountain side,
And hill-folks yet be staggered by
THE MOANING OF THE TIED.
* * * * *
OUR PORTFOLIO.
By Diligence from Paris to Versailles--Fastest Time on Record--Happy
Travelling Companions--Mud, Misery, and Malignity--Life on the Road.
NEAR ST. CLOUD, NINTH WEEK OF THE REPUBLIC, 1870.
It would have done you good to see us getting over that muddy, jagged,
rutty old turnpike that leads off from the south of the Bois de Boulogne
toward St. Cloud and Versailles. Since writing my last, I had been to
Paris _par ballon monte,_ and was now returning in the _diligence_ that
took five American ladies and a couple of war correspondents, all
friends of WASHBURNE, away from the temptation of eating horse-flesh in
the beleaguered city, to such edibles as the rapacity of the German
appetite had left undevoured in the neighborhood of the old "stamping
grounds" of Louis XVI.
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