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Black vice — weak mortal's bitter cup — Had practically chucked him up. Stern piinciple in Jenkins' eyes Was fair and pleasing too. And he adored, without disguise, The logically true. " The logically true," said he — " Now that's the kind of thing for me." LOCAL LYRICS. 15 Now, wlien election time drew near, Jobn Jenkins, led by Fate, One evening wandered out to liear A certain candidate Expatiate with modest grace On his own fitness for a place. In moling terms John heard him dwell Upon his own nni(|ue Ability for fitting well The post he came to seek. (A person framed by Natnre's care. To save that Ward from black despair.) " I am," the candidate confessed, " A Tory bred and born, All Kadicals I loathe, detest, And gaze upon with scorn." (Yet stay, perhaps the speaker said He loathed the Tory crew instead.)