Article: REMEMBERING THEOPHILUS.(Poem)

 
   While hatters were hatting, they'd pass the time chatting 
   Of what they were enduring from felting and curing 
   With poisonous sulphates that addled their poor pates 
   And made them all mercury mad. 
 
   There was never a hatter didn't stop for a natter 
   About the struggles and strains he endured for his pains, 
   Of the dim reputation hatters held in the nation 
   For being so mercury mad. 
 
   But once in a while they might manage a smile, 
   And good reason find to salute hatter kind: 
   "Hail, Theophilus Carter, the trade's only martyr 
   And saint of the mercury mad, 
 
   You who ...

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