Tolstoi knew a man who said
  He cut off a woman’s head;
  But, when half the deed was done. 
  Lo, the murderer’s courage gone! 
  And he finished, ’tis no joke,
  Only by the aid of smoke.

  Tolstoi asks us, when do boys
  First essay Nicotian joys? 
  And he answers, quite aghast,
  When their innocence is past. 
  Gamblers smoke, and then again
  Smoking pleases the insane.

  Tolstoi, when he writes this stuff,
  Swears he’s serious enough;
  Lately Marriage earned his sneers;
  At Tobacco now he jeers;
  Proving that, without the weed,
  Some folks may be mad indeed.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  The serenade; or, over the garden wall.

(Latest Transatlantic Version.)]

“Replying to Sir JOHN MACDONALD’s manifesto, Mr. MERCIER said it was ridiculous to say that reciprocity was veiled treason, and meant annexation to the United States.”—­Times’ Montreal Correspondent.

Uncle Sam (twangling his patent Reciprocity Banjo) sings:—­

  Oh, my love my passion can hear—­and see,
      Over the garden wall;
  She is sighing, and casting sheeps’ eyes at me,
      Over the garden wall: 
  Miss CANADA muses; look at her there! 
  My wooing and BULL’s she is bound to compare,
  And she pretty soon will to join me prepare,
        Over the Garden Wall!

        Chorus (pianissimo).

        Over the garden wall,
        O sweetest girl of all! 
    Come along do, you’ll never regret;
    We were made for one another, you bet! 
    ’Tis time our lips in kisses met,
        Over the Garden Wall!

  Your father will stamp and your father will rave,
        Over the garden wall;
  And like an old madman no doubt will behave,
        Over the garden wall. 
  M’KINLEY has riled him, he’s lost his head. 
  MAC’s Tariff is stiff, but if me you’ll wed,
  I’ll give Reciprocity, darling, instead,
        Over the Garden Wall!

        Chorus (piano).

        Over the garden wall! 
        MACDONALD is bound to fall. 
    ’Tis MAC against MAC, my Canadian pet. 
    And M’KINLEY is bound to win, you bet! 
    So join me, dear; we’ll be happy yet,
        Over the Garden Wall!

  One day you’ll jump down on the other side,
        Over the garden wall;
  There’s plenty of room, and my arms are wide. 
        Over the garden wall: 
  JOHNNY may jib, and Sir JOHN may kick,
  I have an impression I’ll lick them—­slick;
  So come like a darling and join me quick,
        Over the Garden Wall!

        Chorus (forte).