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FRANK B. MILLIKEN OF PORTLAND.

IF old Diogenes were leaving the comforts of his tub, And up to Maine were coming for a visit to the Hub, With his lantern lit and burning, on the watch for trusted men, All Portland would advise him: "Go and find Frank Milliken." The grocers' guild is ancient: it is older than the Port; And the man, who has its confidences, must be a decent sort; You may scoff at casual honors; but they signify a bit, When they're all along of business and the honor's good and fit. So you'll find him always busy, where the wholesale traffic moves; Or you'll find him quite as busy, for the city that he loves; He's up behind her pushing, when there's pushing to be done And they can push a bit in Portland, when they're pushing all as one. But I'm not cataloging merits—it's a task I won't assume— And modest men may well object to being set to tune; I but introduce the subject—in language, ill-expressed And refer you to the picture—let the artist do the rest.