diff options
Diffstat (limited to '29477-h/29477-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 29477-h/29477-h.htm | 12553 |
1 files changed, 12553 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/29477-h/29477-h.htm b/29477-h/29477-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c8e6207 --- /dev/null +++ b/29477-h/29477-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12553 @@ + +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + + <html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta name="generator" content="HTML Tidy, see www.w3.org" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of 'The Universal Reciter'</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body {background: #ffffff; margin-left:12%; margin-right:12%;} + + p { text-align: justify;} + + td {text-align: left; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal;} + td.left {text-align: left; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: bold;} + td.right {text-align: right; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: bold;} + + td.inset {border: medium double #000000;text-align: left; font-size: 0.8em; font-weight: bold;} + td.advert {border: 6px double #cccccc; padding: 2em;} + td.note {text-align: left;font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal; border: 1px dashed;padding: 1em;} + td.cover {padding-right: 0; padding-left: 0;} + .sc { font-variant: small-caps;} + + blockquote { text-align: justify; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + + p.center {text-align: center;} + p.center1 {text-align: left; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%;} + p.author {margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 5%; text-align: right;} + p.author2 {margin-top: -1.5em; margin-right: 5%; text-align: right;} + p.footnote {font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p.note {font-size: 0.9em; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + p.note1 {font-size: 0.8em;margin-left: 8%;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: dashed 1px silver;} + .clear {clear: both;} + span.outdent1 {text-align: left; margin-left: -1em;} + span.outdent2 {position: absolute; right: 70%; left: 15.85%;} + span.pagenum {position: absolute; right: 91%; left: 1%; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: normal; color: #cccccc;} + .indright {margin-right: 20%; text-align: right;} + span.rindent {margin-right: 20%; text-align: right;} + span.outdent {text-align: left; margin-left: -20%;} + .indleft {margin-left: 20%; text-align: left;} + .clear {clear: both;} + + .poem {margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em;} + .poem p {padding-left: 3em; margin: 0px; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4a {margin-left: 1.5em;} + .poem p.i4 { margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + .poem p.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .poem p.i16 {margin-left: 8em;} + .poem p.i20 {margin-left: 10em;} + .poem p.i24 {margin-left: 12em;} + .poem p.i28 {margin-left: 14em;} + + .poem1 {margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem1 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em;} + .poem1 p {padding-left: 3em; margin: 0px; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem1 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem1 p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem1 p.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .poem1 p.i16 {margin-left: 8em;} + + .poem2 {margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left; font-size: 0.9em;} + .poem2 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em;} + .poem2 p {padding-left: 3em; margin: 0px; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem2 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem2 p.i4 { margin-left: 2em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + .figleft3 {padding-right: 0; padding-left: 0; font-size: 2.5em; font-weight: bold;} + .figleft3 {float: left;} + + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + hr.short {width: 30%; color: black; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.full {width: 70%;} + + a:link {text-decoration: none;} + a:visited {color: blue;text-decoration: none;} + a:hover {color: blue;background: #ffffff;text-decoration: none;} + a:active {text-decoration: underline;} + a.contents:link {color:#000000;text-decoration:none;} + a.contents:visited {color:#000000;text-decoration:none;} + a.contents:hover {color:blue;background:#ffffff;text-decoration:none;} + a.contents:active {color: #cc0099;text-decoration:underline;} + + p.dropcap:first-letter{float: left; clear: left; margin-right: .05em; font-size: 2.5em; line-height: 78%; width: auto; font-weight: bold;} + + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + + + </style> + </head> + + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Universal Reciter, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Universal Reciter + 81 Choice Pieces of Rare Poetical Gems + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 21, 2009 [EBook #29477] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNIVERSAL RECITER *** + + + + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Jason Isbell, Afra Ullah and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + <p class="center"><a name="return" id="return"></a> +<a href="#tn">[Transcriber's Note]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<table align="center" summary="Book Cover" border="0" style="border: 0; border-collapse: collapse; margin-top: 2em;"> +<tr> + <td class="cover"><img src="images/back_1l-305.png" width="305" height="450" alt="Book Cover, Back" border="0" /></td> + <td class="cover"><img src="images/spine-83.png" width="83" height="450" alt="Book Cover, Spine" border="0" /></td> + <td class="cover"><img src="images/front_1r-296.png" width="296" height="450" alt="Book Cover, Front" border="0" /></td> +</tr> +</table> +<br /><br /> +<h4>When the voice is weak, it should be strengthened by frequent +practice, <br />by exercising it in the open air, and upon all +convenient occasions.</h4> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/deco_rule1-600.png" width="600" height="23" alt="fancy rule" border="0" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/universal-reciter-400.png" width="400" height="55" alt="The Universal Reciter" border="0" /> +</div> + + +<h2>CONTAINING</h2> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/intro3-300.png" width="300" height="49" alt="81 Choice Pieces" border="0" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/deco_rule2-600.png" width="600" height="18" alt="fancy rule" border="0" /> +</div> + +<h4>It is necessary not only to practise a little, but to practise a +great deal. <br />In this way ease, grace, and fluency are +acquired.</h4> + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/frontis-375c.png" width="375" height="500" alt="frontispiece" /></div> + +<div class="poem2"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>OH! TELL ME, I SAID, RAPID STREAM OF THE VALLEY,</p> +<p class="i2">THAT BEAR'ST IN THY COURSE THE BLUE WATERS AWAY,</p> +<p>CAN THE JOYS OF LIFE'S MORNING AWAKE BUT TO VANISH,</p> +<p class="i2">CAN THE FEELINGS OF LOVE BE ALL DOOM'D TO DECAY?</p> +<p class="i4">AN ECHO REPEATED—"ALL DOOM'D TO DECAY."</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + + +<h2 style="margin-top: 2em;">THE</h2> + +<h1 style="margin-top: 2em;">UNIVERSAL RECITER,</h1> + +<h2 style="margin-top: 2em;">A</h2> + +<h1 style="margin-top: 2em;">LITERARY BOUQUET,</h1> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 3em;">CONTAINING</h4> + +<h2 style="margin-top: 3em;">81 CHOICE PIECES</h2> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 2em;">OF RARE POETICAL GEMS, FINE SPECIMENS OF<br /><br /> +ORATORY, THRILLING SENTIMENT,<br /><br /> +ELOQUENCE, TENDER PATHOS, AND SPARKLING<br /><br /> +HUMOR.</h4> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/deco_rule3_short-200.png" width="200" height="30" alt="" border="0" /> +</div> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;">LONDON:<br /> + +WILLIAM NICHOLSON AND SONS,<br /> +20, WARWICK SQUARE PATERNOSTER ROW, AND<br /> +ALBION WORKS, WAKEFIELD.</h4> + + + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/contents_word-350.png" width="350" height="79" alt="CONTENTS." border="0" /> +</div> + +<table summary="table of contents" align="center" width="80%"> + +<tr> + <td class="left" width="80%" valign="top"> </td> + <td class="right" valign="top">PAGE.<br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page194a">A Horse Car Incident</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page194">194</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page87a">A love of a Bonnet</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page100a">An Eruption of Mount Vesuvius</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page100">100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page103a">A Plea for the Ox</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page103">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page203a">A Pleasure Exertion</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page203">203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page125a">A Precious Pickle</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page125">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page231a">A Psalm of Life</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page231">231</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page243a">Bell of the "Atlantic"</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page243">243</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page122a">Big Oyster, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page122">122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page162a">Black Regiment, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page162">162</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page72a">Boy Archer, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page72">72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page109a">David and Goliath</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page109">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page71a">David's lament over Absalom</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page71">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page98a">Drafted</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page98">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page41a">Dying Hebrew, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page41">41</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page139a">Enlisting as Army Nurse</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page64a">Falstaff's Boasting</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page64">64</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page148a">Forging of the Anchor</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page246a">Flowers, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page246">246</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page44a">Give me back my Husband</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page249a">Graves of a Household</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page249">249</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page175a">Green Goose, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page175">175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page144a">Gridiron, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page105a">Here she goes, and there she goes</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page38a">How we hunted a Mouse</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page38">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page247a">Hypochondriac, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page247">247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page58a">Ignorance is bliss</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page58">58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page50a">Injured Mother, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page50">50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page221a">Juvenile Pugilists</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page221">221</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page191a">Knife Grinder, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page191">191</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page232a">Last Man, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page232">232</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page151a">Lord Dundreary at Brighton</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page234a">Mantle of St. John De Matha, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page234">234</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page11a">Mariner's Wife, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page56a">Menagerie, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page56">56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page177a">Migratory Bones</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page177">177</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page55a">Mills of God, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page16a">Miser's Fate, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page119a">Miss Maloney on the Chinese Question</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page119">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page70a">Murdered Traveller, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page70">70</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>[page 6]</span></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page138a">My Mother's Bible</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page156a">My Friend's Secret</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page156">156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page46a">One Hoss Shay, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page46">46</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page143a">Only Sixteen</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page143">143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page68a">On to Freedom</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page68">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page159a">On the Shores of Tennessee</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page159">159</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page245a">Owl, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page245">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page22a">Pat and the Fox</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page22">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page229a">Pat-ent Gun</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page229">229</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page34a">Patrick's Colt</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page200a">Paul Revere's Ride</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page200">200</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page193a">Pauper's Death Bed</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page193">193</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page250a">Pledge with Wine</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page250">250</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page237a">Polish Boy, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page237">237</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page192a">Preaching to the Poor</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page192">192</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page172a">Rain Drops, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page172">172</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page180a">Red Chignon </a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page180">180</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page20a">Sambo's Dilemma</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page227a">San Francisco Auctioneer</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page227">227</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page32a">Satan's Address to the Sun</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page32">32</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page174a">Scolding Old Dame</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page174">174</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page214a">Shamus O'Brien</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page214">214</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page18a">She would be a Mason</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page13a">Snyder's Nose</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page13">13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page198a">Socrates Snooks</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page198">198</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page241a">That Hired Girl</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page241">241</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page85a">There's but one pair of Stockings to mend to night</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page85">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page164a">Thief of Time, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page164">164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page223a">The Old Man in the Stylish Church</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page223">223</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page225a">The Old Man in the Model Church</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page225">225</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page37a">The World for Sale</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page27a">To my Mother</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page27">27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page117a">Two Weavers, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page117">117</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page158a">Vain Regrets</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page158">158</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page76a">Ventriloquist on a Stage Coach</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page155a">Voices at the Throne</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page155">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page62a">Vulture of the Alps, The</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page62">62</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page29a">What ailed "Ugly Sam"</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page29">29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page219a">Which am de Mightiest</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page219">219</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page112a">Widow Bedott's Poetry</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page112">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><a class="contents" href="#page7a">Wilkins on Accomplishments</a></td> +<td class="right"><a href="#page7">7</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>[page 7]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="margin-top: 5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><img src="images/deco_rule4_large-600-gs.png" width="600" height="171" alt="fancy rule" border="0" /></div> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top: 2em;">THE</h2> + +<h1 style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;">UNIVERSAL RECITER.</h1> + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/deco_rule5_short-200.png" width="200" height="25" alt="" border="0" /> +</div> +<a name="page7a" id="page7a"></a> +<h2>WILKINS ON ACCOMPLISHMENTS.</h2> + +<p> + <span class="indleft" style="float: left"><b>A DUOLOGUE.</b></span> <span class="indright" style="float: right"><b>JOHN QUILL.</b></span></p> + +<p class="clear" style="margin-bottom: -1.5em;"> </p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Wilkins.</span> Mrs. Wilkins, of all the aggravating +women I ever came across, you are the +worst. I believe you'd raise a riot in the cemetry +if you were dead, you would. Don't you ever go +prowling around any Quaker meeting, or you'll +break it up in a plug muss. You? Why you'd +put any other man's back up until he broke his +spine. Oh! you're too annoying to live; I don't +want to bother with you. Go to sleep.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. Wilkins.</span> But, Wilkins dear, just listen +a minute. We must have that piano, and—</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> Oh! don't "dear" me; I won't have +it. You're the only dear thing around here—you're +dear at any price. I tell you once for all that I +don't get any new piano, and Mary Jane don't +take singing lessons as long as I'm her father. +There! If you don't understand that I'll say it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>[page 8]</span> +over again. And now stop your clatter and go +to sleep; I'm tired of hearing you cackle.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> But, Wilk—</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> Now don't aggravate me. I say +Mary Jane shan't learn to sing and plant another +instrument of torture in this house, while I'm boss +of the family. Her voice is just like yours; it's +got a twang to it like blowing on the edge of a +piece of paper.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> Ain't you ashamed, Wilk—</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> It's disgrace enough to have <i>you</i> sitting +down and pretending to sing, and trying to deafen +people, without having the children do it. The +first time I heard you sing I started round to the +station-house and got six policemen, because I +thought there was a murder in your house, and +they were cutting you up by inches. I wish somebody +would! I wouldn't go for any policeman +now, not much!</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> I declare, you are a perfect brute!</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> Not much, I wouldn't! But Smith, he +told me yesterday that his family were kept awake +half the night by the noise you made; and he said +if I didn't stop those dogs from yowling in my +cellar, he'd be obliged to complain to the board +of health.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> What an awful story, Mr Wilk—</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> Then I told him it was you, and you +thought you could sing; and he advised me as +a friend to get a divorce, because he said no man +could live happily with any woman who had a +voice like a cross-cut saw. He said I might as +well have a machine-shop with a lot of files at work +in my house as that, and he'd rather any time.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> Phugh! I don't care what Smith +says.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> And you a-talking about a new piano! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>[page 9]</span> +Why, haven't we got musical instruments enough +in the house? There's Holofernes Montgomery +been blowing away in the garret for ten days with +that old key bugle, until he got so black in the +face that he won't get his colour back for a month, +and then he only gets a spurt out of her every now +and then. He's blown enough wind in her to get +up a hurricane, and I expect nothing else but he'll +get the old machine so chock full that she'll blow +back at him some day and burst his brains out, +and all along of your tomfoolery. You're a pretty +mother, you are! You'd better go and join some +asylum for feeble-minded idiots, you had.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> Wilkins! I declare you're too bad, +for—</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> Yes—and there's Bucephalus Alexander, +he's got his head full of your sentimental +nonsense, and he thinks he's in love with a girl +round the corner, and he meanders about and +tries to sigh, and won't eat his victuals, and he's +got to going down into the cellar and trying to +sing "No one to love" in the coal-bin; and he +like to scared the hired girl out of her senses, so +that she went upstairs and had a fit on the kitchen +door-mat, and came near dying on my hands.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> That's not true, Mr. Wil—</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> And never came to until I put her +head under the hydrant. And then what does +Bucephalus Alexander do but go round, night +before last, and try to serenade the girl, until the +old man histed up the sash and cracked away at +Bucephalus Alexander with an old boot, and hit him +in the face and blacked his eye, because he thought +it was two cats a-yelping. Hang such a mother +as you are! You go right to work to ruin your +offspring.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> You're talking nonsense, Wilk—</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>[page 10]</span> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> You're about as fit to bring up children +as a tadpole is to run a ferry boat, you are! But +while I'm alive Mary Jane takes no singing lessons. +Do you understand? It's bad enough to have her +battering away at that piano like she had some +grudge against it, and to have her visitors wriggle +around and fidget and look miserable, as if they +had cramp colic, while you make her play for them +and have them get up and lie, and ask what it was, +and say how beautiful it is, and steep their souls in +falsehood and hypocrisy all on account of you. +You'll have enough sins to answer for, old woman, +without that.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> I never did such a thing, and you—</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> Yes—and you think Mary Jane can +play, don't you? You think she can sit down and +jerk more music than a whole orchestra, don't you? +But she can't. You might about as well set a +crowbar to opening oysters as set her to playing +on that piano. You might, indeed!</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> You talk like a fool, Wilkins!</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> Play! She play? Pshaw! Why, she's +drummed away at that polka for six months and +she can't get her grip on it yet. You might as well +try to sing a long-metre hymn to "Fisher's Hornpipe," +as to undertake to dance to that polka. It +would jerk your legs out at the sockets, certain, or +else it would give you St. Vitus' dance, and cripple +you for life.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> Mr. Wilkins, I'm going to tell you +a secret.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> Oh! I don't want to hear your secrets—keep +them to yourself.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> It's about Mary Jane's singing.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> What?</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> Mary Jane, you know—her singing.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>[page 11]</span> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> I don't know, and I don't want to; +she shan't take lessons, so dry up.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> But she shall take them!</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> I say she shan't!</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> She shall, and you can't help it.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> By George! What do you mean? I'm +master in this house I'd like you to know.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> Yes—but she's been taking lessons +for a whole quarter, while you were down town, +and I paid the bill out of the market money.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W.</span> Well! I hope I may be shot! You +don't mean to say that? Well, if you ain't a +perfectly abandoned wretch, hang me! Farewell, +Mrs. Wilkins, farewell! I'm off by the first express-train +for the West! I'll stop at Chicago, where the +cars wait fifteen minutes for refreshments and a +divorce—I'll take the divorce, that will be indeed +refreshing! Farewell! F-a-r-e-well! Fare-r-r-r-r-r-r-well! +Mrs. Wil-l-l-l-l-l-l-kins!</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<a name="page11a" id="page11a"></a> + +<h2>THE MARINERS WIFE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>WM. JULIUS MICKLE.</b></p> + +<h4>THIS WAS A FAVOURITE RECITATION OF THE LATE<br /> +CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +A</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4a"><b>ND</b> are ye sure the news is true?</p> +<p class="i6">And are ye sure he's weel?</p> +<p>Is this a time to think o' wark?</p> +<p class="i2">Make haste, lay by your wheel;</p> +<p>Is this a time to spin a thread,</p> +<p class="i2">When Colin's at the door?</p> +<p>Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay,</p> +<p class="i2">And see him come ashore.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>[page 12]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For there's nae luck about the house,</p> +<p class="i2">There's nae luck at a';</p> +<p>There's little pleasure in the house</p> +<p class="i2">When our gudeman's awa'.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And gie to me my bigonet,</p> +<p class="i2">My bishop's satin gown;</p> +<p>For I maun tell the baillie's wife,</p> +<p class="i2">That Colin's in the town.</p> +<p>My Turkey slippers maun gae on,</p> +<p class="i2">My stockings pearly blue;</p> +<p>It's a' to pleasure our gudeman,</p> +<p class="i2">For he's baith leal and true.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside,</p> +<p class="i2">Put on the mukle pot;</p> +<p>Gie little Kate her button gown</p> +<p class="i2">And Jock his Sunday coat;</p> +<p>And mak their shoon as black as slaes,</p> +<p class="i2">Their hose as white as snaw;</p> +<p>It's a' to please my own gudeman,</p> +<p class="i2">For he's been long awa.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>There's twa fat hens upo' the coop,</p> +<p class="i2">Been fed this month and mair;</p> +<p>Mak haste and thraw their necks about,</p> +<p class="i2">That Colin weel may fare;</p> +<p>And mak our table neat and clean,</p> +<p class="i2">Let everything look braw,</p> +<p>For wha can tell how Colin fared</p> +<p class="i2">When he was far awa?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,</p> +<p class="i2">His breath like caller air;</p> +<p>His very foot has music in't</p> +<p class="i2">As he comes up the stair.</p> +<p>And shall I see his face again?</p> +<p class="i2">And shall I hear him speak?</p> +<p>I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,</p> +<p class="i2">In troth I'm like to greet!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>[page 13]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The cold blasts o' the winter wind,</p> +<p class="i2">That thirléd through my heart,</p> +<p>They're a' blown by, I hae him safe,</p> +<p class="i2">'Till death we'll never part;</p> +<p>But what puts parting in my head?</p> +<p class="i2">It may be far awa!</p> +<p>The present moment is our ain,</p> +<p class="i2">The neist we never saw.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Since Colin's weel, and weel content,</p> +<p class="i2">I hae nae mair to crave;</p> +<p>And gin I live to keep him sae,</p> +<p class="i2">I'm blest aboov the lave.</p> +<p>And will I see his face again?</p> +<p class="i2">And will I hear him speak?</p> +<p>I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,</p> +<p class="i2">In troth I'm like to greet.</p> +<p>For there's nae luck about the house,</p> +<p class="i2">There's nae lack at a';</p> +<p>There's little pleasure in the house</p> +<p class="i2">When our gudeman's awa.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="short" /> +<a name="page13a" id="page13a"></a> + +<h2>SNYDER'S NOSE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>"OUR FAT CONTRIBUTOR."</b></p> + +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">S</span> +<b>NYDER</b> kept a beer saloon some years ago "over +the Rhine." Snyder was a ponderous Teuton of +very irascible temper—"sudden and quick in +quarrel"—get mad in a minute. Nevertheless his +saloon was a great resort for "the boys"—partly +because of the excellence of his beer, and partly +because they liked to chafe "Old Snyder," as they +called him; for, although his bark was terrific, +experience had taught them that he wouldn't bite.</p> + +<p>One day Snyder was missing; and it was explained +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>[page 14]</span> +by his "frau," who "jerked" the beer that day, +that he had "gone out fishing mit der poys." The +next day one of the boys, who was particularly fond +of "roasting" old Snyder, dropped in to get a glass +of beer, and discovered Snyder's nose, which was a +big one at any time, swollen and blistered by the +sun, until it looked like a dead-ripe tomato.</p> + +<p>"Why, Snyder, what's the matter with your +nose?" said the caller.</p> + +<p>"I peen out fishing mit der poys," replied Snyder, +laying his finger tenderly against his proboscis; +"the sun it pese hot like ash never vas, und I purns +my nose. Nice nose, don't it?" And Snyder viewed +it with a look of comical sadness in the little mirror +back of his bar. It entered at once into the head of +the mischievous fellow in front of the bar to play a +joke upon Snyder; so he went out and collected half +a dozen of his comrades, with whom he arranged that +they should drop in at the saloon one after another, +and ask Snyder, "What's the matter with that +nose?" to see how long he would stand it. The man +who put up the job went in first with a companion, +and seating themselves at a table called for beer. +Snyder brought it to them, and the new-comer +exclaimed as he saw him, "Snyder, what's the +matter with your nose?"</p> + +<p>"I yust dell your friend here I peen out fishin' mit +der poys, unt de sun he purnt 'em—zwi lager—den +cents—all right."</p> + +<p>Another boy rushes in. "Halloo, boys, you're +ahead of me this time; s'pose I'm in, though. Here, +Snyder, bring me a glass of lager and a pret"—(appears +to catch a sudden glimpse of Snyder's nose, +looks wonderingly a moment and then bursts out +laughing)—"ha! ha! ha! Why, Snyder—ha!—ha!—what's +the matter with that nose?"</p> + +<p>Snyder, of course, can't see any fun in having a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>[page 15]</span> +burnt nose or having it laughed at; and he says, in +a tone sternly emphatic:</p> + +<p>"I peen out fishin' mit der poys, unt de sun it yust +ash hot ash blazes, unt I purnt my nose; dat ish all +right."</p> + +<p>Another tormentor comes in, and insists on "setting +'em up" for the whole house. "Snyder," says +he, "fill up the boys' glasses, and take a drink +yourse——ho! ho! ho! ho! ha! ha! ha! Snyder, +wha—ha! ha!—what's the matter with that nose?"</p> + +<p>Snyder's brow darkens with wrath by this time, and +his voice grows deeper and sterner:</p> + +<p>"I peen out fishin' mit der poys on the Leedle +Miami. De sun pese hot like ash—vel, I burn my +pugle. Now that is more vot I don't got to say. +Vot gind o' peseness? Dat ish all right; I purn my +<i>own</i> nose, don't it?"</p> + +<p>"Burn your nose—burn all the hair off your head +for what I care; you needn't get mad about it."</p> + +<p>It was evident that <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Snider'">Snyder</ins> wouldn't stand more +than one tweak at that nose; for he was tramping +about behind his bar, and growling like an exasperated +old bear in his cage. Another one of +his tormentors walks in. Some one sings out to +him, "Have a glass of beer, Billy?"</p> + +<p>"Don't care about any beer," says Billy, "but, +Snyder, you may give me one of your best ciga—Ha-a-a! +ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! ho! he! he! he! +ah-h-h-ha! ha! ha! ha! Why—why—Snyder—who +who—ha-ha! ha! what's the matter with that +nose?"</p> + +<p>Snyder was absolutely fearful to behold by this time; +his face was purple with rage, all except his +nose, which glowed like a ball of fire. Leaning his +ponderous figure far over the bar, and raising his arm +aloft to emphasize his words with it, he fairly roared:</p> + +<p>"I peen out fishin' mit ter poys. The sun it pese +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>[page 16]</span> +hot like ash never was. I purnt my nose. Now you +no like dose nose, you yust take dose nose unt wr-wr-wr-wring +your mean American finger mit 'em. That's +the kind of man vot I am!" And Snyder was right.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page16a" id="page16a"></a> +<h2>THE MISER'S FATE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>OSBORNE.</b></p> + + +<blockquote><p> +In the year 1762 a miser, of the name of Foscue, in France, having +amassed enormous wealth by habits of extortion and the most sordid +parsimony, was requested by the government to advance a sum of money +as a loan. The miser demurred, pretending that he was poor. In order to +hide his gold effectually, he dug a deep cave in his cellar, the descent to +which was by a ladder, and which was entered by means of a trap-door, to +which was attached a spring-lock.</p> + +<p>He entered this cave one day to gloat over his gold, when the door fell +upon him, and the spring-lock, the key to which he had left on the outside, +snapped, and held him a prisoner in the cave, where he perished miserably. +Some months afterwards a search was made, and his body was found in the +midst of his money-bags, with a candlestick lying beside it on the floor. In +the following lines the miser is supposed to have just entered his cave, and +to be soliloquizing. +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +S</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>O</b>, so! all safe! Come forth, my pretty sparklers—</p> +<p class="i4">Come forth, and feast my eyes! Be not afraid!</p> +<p>No keen-eyed agent of the government</p> +<p>Can see you here. They wanted me, forsooth,</p> +<p>To lend you, at the lawful rate of usance,</p> +<p>For the state's needs. Ha, ha! my shining pets,</p> +<p>My yellow darlings, my sweet golden circlets!</p> +<p>Too well I loved you to do that—and so</p> +<p>I pleaded poverty, and none could prove</p> +<p>My story was not true.</p> +<p>Ha! could they see</p> +<p>These bags of ducats, and that precious pile</p> +<p>Of ingots, and those bars of solid gold,</p> +<p>Their eyes, methinks, would water. What a comfort</p> +<p>Is it to see my moneys in a heap</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>[page 17]</span> +<p>All safely lodged under my very roof!</p> +<p>Here's a fat bag—let me untie the mouth of it.</p> +<p>What eloquence! What beauty! What expression!</p> +<p>Could Cicero so plead? Could Helen look</p> +<p>One-half so charming? [<i>The trap-door falls.</i>]</p> +<p>Ah! what sound was that?</p> +<p>The Trap-door fallen—and the spring-lock caught!</p> +<p>Well, have I not the key? Of course I have.</p> +<p>'Tis in this pocket. No. In this? No. Then</p> +<p>I left it at the bottom of the ladder.</p> +<p>Ha! 'tis not there. Where then? Ah! mercy, Heaven!</p> +<p>'Tis in the lock outside!</p> +<p>What's to be done?</p> +<p>Help, help! Will no one hear? Oh, would that I</p> +<p>Had not discharged old Simon! but he begged</p> +<p>Each week for wages—would not give me credit.</p> +<p>I'll try my strength upon the door. Despair!</p> +<p>I might as soon uproot the eternal rocks</p> +<p>As force it open. Am I here a prisoner,</p> +<p>And no one in the house? no one at hand,</p> +<p>Or likely soon to be, to hear my cries?</p> +<p>Am I entombed alive? Horrible fate!</p> +<p>I sink—I faint beneath the bare conception!</p> +<p>[<i>Awakes.</i>] Darkness? Where am I? I remember, now,</p> +<p>This is a bag of ducats—'tis no dream—</p> +<p>No dream! The trap-door fell, and here am I</p> +<p>Immured with my dear gold—my candle out—</p> +<p>All gloom—all silence—all despair! What, ho!</p> +<p>Friends! Friends? I have no friends. What right have I</p> +<p>To use the name? These money-bags have been</p> +<p>The only friends I've cared for—and for these</p> +<p>I've toiled, and pinched, and screwed—shutting my heart</p> +<p>To charity, humanity and love!</p> +<p>Detested traitors! Since I gave you all—</p> +<p>Aye, gave my very soul—can ye do naught</p> +<p>For me in this extremity? Ho! Without there!</p> +<p>A thousand ducats for a loaf of bread!</p> +<p>Ten thousand ducats for a glass of water!</p> +<p>A pile of ingots for a helping hand!</p> +<p>Was that a laugh? Aye, 'twas a fiend that laughed</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>[page 18]</span> +<p>To see a miser in the grip of death.</p> +<p>Offended Heaven, have mercy! I will give</p> +<p>In alms all this vile rubbish; aid me thou</p> +<p>In this most dreadful strait! I'll build a church—</p> +<p>A hospital! Vain, vain! Too late, too late!</p> +<p>Heaven knows the miser's heart too well to trust him!</p> +<p>Heaven will not hear! Why should it? What have I</p> +<p>Done to enlist Heaven's favor—to help on</p> +<p>Heaven's cause on earth, in human hearts and homes?</p> +<p>Nothing! God's kingdom will not come the sooner</p> +<p>For any work or any prayer of mine.</p> +<p>But must I die here—in my own trap caught?</p> +<p>Die—die? and then! Oh, mercy! Grant me time—</p> +<p>Thou who canst save—grant me a little time,</p> +<p>And I'll redeem the past—undo the evil</p> +<p>That I have done—make thousands happy with</p> +<p>This hoarded treasure—do Thy will on earth</p> +<p>As it is done in Heaven—grant me but time!</p> +<p>Nor man nor God will heed my shrieks! All's lost!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page18a" id="page18a"></a> +<h2>SHE WOULD BE A MASON.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>ANONYMOUS.</b></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>HE</b> funniest story I ever heard,</p> +<p class="i4">The funniest thing that ever occurred,</p> +<p>Is the story of Mrs. Mehitable Byrde,</p> +<p class="i4">Who wanted to be a Mason.</p> +<p>Her husband, Tom Byrde, is a Mason true,</p> +<p>As good a Mason as any of you;</p> +<p>He is tyler of lodge Cerulian Blue,</p> +<p>And tyles and delivers the summons due,</p> +<p>And she wanted to be a Mason too—</p> +<p class="i4">This ridiculous Mrs. Byrde.</p> +<p>She followed him round, this inquisitive wife,</p> +<p>And nabbed and teased him half out of his life;</p> +<p>So to terminate this unhallowed strife,</p> +<p class="i4">He consented at last to admit her.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>[page 19]</span> +<p>And first to disguise her from bonnet to shoon,</p> +<p>The ridiculous lady agreed to put on</p> +<p>His breech—ah! forgive me—I meant pantaloon;</p> +<p class="i4">And miraculously did they fit her.</p> +<p>The Lodge was at work on the Master's Degree;</p> +<p>The light was ablaze on the letter G;</p> +<p>High soared the pillars J. and B.;</p> +<p>The officers sat like Solomon, wise;</p> +<p>The brimstone burned amid horrid cries;</p> +<p>The goat roamed wildly through the room;</p> +<p>The candidate begged 'em to let him go home;</p> +<p>And the devil himself stood up in the east,</p> +<p>As proud as an alderman at a feast;—</p> +<p class="i4">When in came Mrs. Byrde.</p> +<p>Oh, horrible sounds! oh, horrible sight!</p> +<p>Can it be that Masons take delight</p> +<p>In spending thus the hours of night?</p> +<p>Ah! could their wives and daughters know</p> +<p>The unutterable things they say and do,</p> +<p>Their feminine hearts would burst with woe;</p> +<p class="i4">But this is not all my story,</p> +<p>For those Masons joined in a hideous ring,</p> +<p>The candidate howling like everything,</p> +<p>And thus in tones of death they sing</p> +<p class="i4">(The Candidate's name was Morey):</p> +<p>"Blood to drink and bones to crack,</p> +<p>Skulls to smash and lives to take,</p> +<p>Hearts to crush and souls to burn—</p> +<p>Give old Morey another turn,</p> +<p class="i4">And make him all grim and gory."</p> +<p>Trembling with horror stood Mrs. Byrde,</p> +<p>Unable to speak a single word;</p> +<p>She staggered and fell in the nearest chair,</p> +<p>On the left of the Junior Warden there,</p> +<p>And scarcely noticed, so loud the groans,</p> +<p>That the chair was made of human bones.</p> +<p>Of human bones! on grinning skulls</p> +<p>That ghastly throne of horror rolls—</p> +<p>Those skulls, the skulls that Morgan bore!</p> +<p>Those bones the bones that Morgan wore!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>[page 20]</span> +<p>His scalp across the top was flung,</p> +<p>His teeth around the arms were strung—</p> +<p>Never in all romance was known</p> +<p>Such uses made of human bone.</p> +<p>The brimstone gleamed in lurid flame,</p> +<p>Just like a place we will not name;</p> +<p>Good angels, that inquiring came</p> +<p>From blissful courts, looked on with shame</p> +<p class="i4">And tearful melancholy.</p> +<p>Again they dance, but twice as bad,</p> +<p>They jump and sing like demons mad;</p> +<p class="i4">The tune is Hunkey Dorey—</p> +<p>"Blood to drink," etc., etc.</p> +<p>Then came a pause—a pair of paws</p> +<p>Reached through the floor, up sliding doors,</p> +<p>And grabbed the unhappy candidate!</p> +<p>How can I without tears relate</p> +<p>The lost and ruined Morey's fate?</p> +<p>She saw him sink in a fiery hole,</p> +<p>She heard him scream, "My soul! my soul!"</p> +<p>While roars of fiendish laughter roll,</p> +<p class="i4">And drown the yells of mercy!</p> +<p>"Blood to drink," etc., etc.</p> +<p>The ridiculous woman could stand no more—</p> +<p>She fainted and fell on the checkered floor,</p> +<p>'Midst all the diabolical roar.</p> +<p>What then, you ask me, did befall</p> +<p>Mehitable Byrde? Why, nothing at all—</p> +<p><i>She had dreamed</i> she'd been in the Masons' hall.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page20a" id="page20a"></a> +<h2>SAMBO'S DILEMMA.</h2> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">M +<b>IDAS</b></span>, I want to s'posen a case to you, an' +I want you to gim me the gospel truth on +your 'pinion 'bout de matter."</p> + +<p>That's the manner in which one of Washington's +dusky damsels put it to her adorer last evening.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>[page 21]</span> + +<p>"Now, Midas, you knows you'se tole me more +times 'an you'se got fingers an' toes, as you lubbed +me harder 'an a marble-top washstand, an' 'at I'se +sweeter to you 'an buckwheat cakes and 'lassas +foreber. Midas, this am only s'posen case, but I +wants you to s'posen jus' as if'n 'twas a shunuff +one.</p> + +<p>"S'posen me an' you was goin' on a scursion +down de riber!"</p> + +<p>"Yas," broke in Midas, "down to Mount +Vernon."</p> + +<p>"Anywha's 'tall, down the riber. Midas, can +you swim?"</p> + +<p>"No, Luce, I's sorry to 'form you dat de only +d'reckshon what I kin circumstanshiate fru de +water am de bottom."</p> + +<p>"Well, den, as I was 'latin'. S'posen we was +on de boat, glidin' lubingly an' harmunly down de +bussum ob der riber's stream, de moon was lookin' +shiningly down pon de smoke-stack, an' you wos +sottin' rite up to me (jus' slide up here closer, an' +lem me show you how), dats de way."</p> + +<p>"Yah, yah! but wouldn't dat be scrumptuous?" +interrupted Midas.</p> + +<p>"S'posen," continued Lucy, "you had jest put +your arm roun' my wai' (dat's it), der wasn't nobody +'bout, you was a squeezin' me up, an' was jest gwine +to gimme de lubinest kind ob a kiss, an'—an'—an' +de biler would bust!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, de debbil!" said the disappointed Midas.</p> + +<p>"Now, Midas, I is s'posen dis case, an' I wants +you to mind de words what I am a speakin'. +S'posen when dat biler busted we bof went up in de +air, come down in de ribber, an' when we arrive in +de water we found de only thing lef' of dat boat +was one piece ob board dat wasn't big enough +to hole us bof, but we bof grab at it; now, Midas, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>[page 22]</span> +wud you let go dat board, or would you put me +off an' took it all y'self? Dat's de question what +I'm s'posen."</p> + +<p>"Luce, can you swim?" he asked, after hesitating +a few moments.</p> + +<p>"No, Midas, ob course not. You know I can't +swim."</p> + +<p>"Well den, Luce, my conchenshus 'pinion ob de +whole matter am dat we won't go on no scursions."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page22a" id="page22a"></a> +<h2>PAT AND THE FOX.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>SAMUEL LOVER.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">P +<b>addy</b></span>," said the squire, "perhaps you would +favor the gentleman with that story you told +me once about a fox?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed and I will, plaze yer honor," said Paddy, +"though I know full well the divil a one word iv it +you b'lieve, nor the gintlemen won't either, though +you're axin' me for it—but only want to laugh at me, +and call me a big liar when my back's turned."</p> + +<p>"Maybe we wouldn't wait for your back being +turned, Paddy, to honor you with that title."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed, I'm not sayin' that you wouldn't do +it as soon foreninst my face, yer honor, as you often +did before, and will agin, plaze God, and welkim."</p> + +<p>"Well, Paddy, say no more about that, but let's +have the story."</p> + +<p>"Sure I'm losing no time, only telling the gintlemen +beforehand that it's what they'll be callin' it, a +lie—and indeed it's ancommon, sure enough; but +you see, gintlemen, you must remimber that the fox +is the cunnin'est baste in the world, barrin' the +wran——"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>[page 23]</span> + +<p>Here Paddy was questioned why he considered the +wren as cunning a <i>baste</i> as the fox.</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, bekase all the birds build their nest +wid one hole to it only, excep'n the wran; but the +wran builds two holes to the nest, and so that if any +inimy comes to disturb it upon one door it can go out +an the other. But the fox is cute to that degree +that there's many mortial a fool to him—and, by +dad, the fox could by and sell many a Christian, as +you'll soon see by-and-by, when I tell you what happened +to a wood-ranger that I knew wanst, and a dacent +man he was, and wouldn't say the thing in a lie.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, he kem home one night mighty +tired—for he was out wid a party in the domain +cock-shootin' that day; and whin he got back to his +lodge he threw a few logs o' wood an the fire to +make himself comfortable, and he tuk whatever little +matther he had for his supper—and afther that he +felt himself so tired that he wint to bed. But you're +to understand that, though he wint to bed, it was +more for to rest himself like, than to sleep, for it was +airly; and so he jist wint into bed, and there he +divarted himself lookin' at the fire, that was blazin' +as merry as a bonfire an the hearth.</p> + +<p>"Well, as he was lyin' that-a-way, jist thinkin' o' +nothin' at all, what should come into the place but a +fox. But I must tell you, what I forgot to tell you, +before, that the ranger's house was on the bordhers +o' the wood, and he had no one to live wid him but +himself, barrin' the dogs that he had the care iv, that +was his only companions, and he had a hole cut +an the door, with a swingin' boord to it, that the +dogs might go in or out accordin' as it plazed thim; +and, by dad, the fox kem in as I told you, through +the hole in the door, as bould as a ram, and walked +over to the fire, and sat down foreninst it.</p> + +<p>"Now it was mighty provokin' that all the dogs +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>[page 24]</span> +was out; they wor rovin' about the wood, you see, +lookin for to catch rabbits to ate, or some other +mischief, and so it happened that there wasn't as +much as one individual dog in the place; and, by +gor, I'll go bail the fox knew that right well before +he put his nose inside the ranger's lodge.</p> + +<p>"Well, the ranger was in hopes some o' the dogs +id come home and ketch the chap, and he was loath +to stir hand or fut himself, afeared o' frightenin' +away the fox, but by gor, he could hardly keep his +timper at all at all, whin he seen the fox take his +pipe aff o' the hob where he left it afore he wint to +bed, and puttin' the bowl o' the pipe into the fire to +kindle it (it's as thrue as I'm here), he began to +smoke foreninst the fire, as nath'ral as any other +man you ever seen.</p> + +<p>"'Musha, bad luck to your impidence, you long-tailed +blackguard,' says the ranger, 'and is it +smokin' my pipe you are? Oh, thin, by this and by +that, iv I had my gun convaynient to me, it's fire and +smoke of another sort, and what you wouldn't +bargain for, I'd give you,' says he. But still he was +loath to stir, hopin the dogs id come home; and +'By gor, my fine fellow,' says he to the fox, 'if one +o' the dogs comes home, saltpethre wouldn't save +you, and that's a sthrong pickle.'</p> + +<p>"So with that he watched antil the fox wasn't +mindin' him, but was busy shakin' the cindhers out +o' the pipe whin he was done wid it, and so the +ranger thought he was goin' to go immediately +afther gettin an air o' the fire and a shough o' the +pipe; and so, says he, 'Faix, my lad, I won't let you +go so aisy as all that, as cunnin' as you think yourself;' +and with that he made a dart out o' bed, and +run over to the door, and got betune it and the fox, +'And now,' says he, 'your bread's baked, my buck, +and maybe my lord won't have a fine run out o' you, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>[page 25]</span> +and the dogs at your brish every yard, you morodin' +thief, and the divil mind you,' says he, 'for your +impidence—for sure, if you hadn't the impidence of +a highwayman's horse it's not into my very house, +undher my nose, you'd daar for to come:' and with +that he began to whistle for the dogs; and the fox, +that stood eyein' him all the time while he was +spakin', began to think it was time to be joggin' +whin he heard the whistle—and says the fox to himself, +'Troth, indeed, you think yourself a mighty +great ranger now,' says he, 'and you think you're +very cute, but upon my tail, and that's a big oath, +I'd be long sorry to let such a mallet-headed bog-throtter +as yourself take a dirty advantage o' me, +and I'll engage,' says the fox, 'I'll make you lave +the door soon and suddint,'—and with that he turned +to where the ranger's brogues was lyin' hard by +beside the fire, and, what would you think, but the +fox tuk one o' the brogues, and wint over to the fire, +and threw it into it.</p> + +<p>"'I think that'll make you start,' says the fox.</p> + +<p>"'Divil resave the start,' says the ranger—'that +won't do, my buck,' says he, 'the brogue may burn +to cindhers,' says he, 'but out o' this I won't stir;' +and thin, puttin' his fingers into his mouth, he gev a +blast of a whistle you'd hear a mile off, and shouted +for the dogs.</p> + +<p>"'So that won't do,' says the fox—'well, I must +thry another offer,' says he, and with that he tuk up +the other brogue, and threw it into the fire too.</p> + +<p>"'There, now,' says he, 'you may keep the other +company,' says he; 'and there's a pair o' you now, +as the divil said to his knee-buckles.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, you thievin' varment,' says the ranger, +'you won't lave me a tack to my feet; but no +matter,' says he, 'your head's worth more nor a pair +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>[page 26]</span> +o' brogues to me any day, and by the Piper of +Blessintown, you're money in my pocket this minit,' +says he: and with that, the fingers was in his mouth +agin, and he was goin' to whistle, whin, what would +you think, but up sets the fox on his hunkers, and +puts his two fore-paws into his mouth, makin' game +o' the ranger—(bad luck to the lie I tell you.)</p> + +<p>"'Well, the ranger, and no wondher, although in +a rage as he was, couldn't help laughin' at the +thought o' the fox mockin' him, and, by dad, he tuk +sitch a fit o' laughin' that he couldn't whistle—and +that was the 'cuteness o' the fox to gain time; but +whin his first laugh was over, the ranger recovered +himself, and gev another whistle; and so says the +fox, 'By my soul,' says he, 'I think it wouldn't be +good for my health to stay here much longer, and I +mustn't be triflin' with that blackguard ranger any +more,' says he, 'and I must make him sensible that +it is time to let me go, and though he hasn't +understandin' to be sorry for his brogues, I'll go bail +I'll make him lave that,' says he, 'before he'd say +<i>sparables</i>'—and with that what do you think the fox +done? By all that's good—and the ranger himself +told me out iv his own mouth, and said he would +never have b'lieved it, ownly he seen it—the fox tuk +a lighted piece iv a log out o' the blazin' fire, and +run over wid it to the ranger's bed, and was goin' to +throw it into the sthraw, and burn him out of house +and home; so when the ranger seen that he gev a +shout out iv him—</p> + +<p>"'Hillo! hillo! you murtherin' villain,' says he, +'you're worse nor Captain Rock; is it goin' to burn +me out you are, you red rogue iv a Ribbonman?" +and he made a dart betune him and the bed, to save +the house from bein' burnt,—but, my jew'l, that was +all the fox wanted—and as soon as the ranger +quitted the hole in the door that he was standin' +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>[page 27]</span> +foreninst, the fox let go the blazin' faggit, and made +one jump through the door and escaped.</p> + +<p>"But before he wint, the ranger gev me his oath +that the fox turned round and gev him the most +contemptible look he ever got in his life, and showed +every tooth in his head with laughin', and at last he +put out his tongue at him, as much as to say—'You've +missed me like your mammy's blessin',' and +off wid him, like a flash o' lightnin'."</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> +<a name="page27a" id="page27a"></a> + +<h2>TO MY MOTHER.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>FORRESTER.</b></p> + + +<blockquote><p> +[It is hardly necessary to say that too much tenderness cannot be imparted +to the voice while reading these beautiful lines. The heart that recalls +a departed mother's memory will be the best monitor.] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +G</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>IVE</b> me my old seat, mother,</p> +<p class="i6">With my head upon thy knee;</p> +<p>I've passed through many a changing scene,</p> +<p class="i2">Since thus I sat by thee.</p> +<p>Oh! let me look into thine eyes;</p> +<p class="i2">Their meek, soft, loving light</p> +<p>Falls like a gleam of holiness,</p> +<p class="i2">Upon my heart, to-night.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I've not been long away, mother;</p> +<p class="i2">Few suns have risen and set,</p> +<p>Since last the tear-drop on thy cheek,</p> +<p class="i2">My lips in kisses met.</p> +<p>'Tis but a little time, I know,</p> +<p class="i2">But very long it seems;</p> +<p>Though every night I came to thee,</p> +<p class="i2">Dear mother, in my dreams.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The world has kindly dealt, mother,</p> +<p class="i2">By the child thou lov'st so well;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>[page 28]</span> +<p>The prayers have circled round her path;</p> +<p class="i2">And 'twas their holy spell</p> +<p>Which made that path so dearly bright;</p> +<p class="i2">Which strewed the roses there;</p> +<p>Which gave the light, and cast the balm</p> +<p class="i2">On every breath of air.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I bear a happy heart, mother;</p> +<p class="i2">A happier never beat;</p> +<p>And, even now, new buds of hope</p> +<p class="i2">Are bursting at my feet.</p> +<p>Oh! mother! life may be a dream;</p> +<p class="i2">But if such <i>dreams</i> are given,</p> +<p>While at the portals thus we stand,</p> +<p class="i2">What are the <i>truths</i> of Heaven?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I bear a happy heart, mother!</p> +<p class="i2">Yet, when fond eyes I see,</p> +<p>And hear soft tones and winning words,</p> +<p class="i2">I ever think of thee.</p> +<p>And then, the tears my spirit weeps</p> +<p class="i2">Unbidden fill my eye;</p> +<p>And, like a houseless dove, I long</p> +<p class="i2">Unto thy breast to fly.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Then</i> I am very sad, mother,</p> +<p class="i2">I'm very sad and lone:</p> +<p>O! there's no heart whose inmost fold</p> +<p class="i2">Opes to me like thine own!</p> +<p>Though sunny smiles wreath blooming lips,</p> +<p class="i2">While love-tones meet my ear;</p> +<p>My mother, one fond glance of thine</p> +<p class="i2">Were thousand times more dear.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then with a closer clasp, mother,</p> +<p class="i2">Now hold me to thy heart:</p> +<p>I'll feel it beating 'gainst my own,</p> +<p class="i2">Once more before we part.</p> +<p>And mother, to this love-lit spot,</p> +<p class="i2">When I am far away,</p> +<p>Come oft—<i>too oft</i> thou canst not come!</p> +<p class="i2">And for thy darling pray.</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>[page 29]</span> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page29a" id="page29a"></a> + +<h2>WHAT AILED "UGLY SAM."</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>DETROIT FREE PRESS.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">H</span> +<b>E</b> had been missing from the "Potomac" for +several days, and Cleveland Tom, Port Huron +Bill, Tall Chicago, and the rest of the boys who were +wont to get drunk with him, couldn't make out what +had happened. They hadn't heard that there was +a warrant out for him, had never known of his being +sick for a day, and his absence from the old haunts +puzzled them. They were in the Hole-in-the-Wall +saloon yesterday morning, nearly a dozen of them, +drinking, smoking, and playing cards, when in +walked Ugly Sam.</p> + +<p>There was a deep silence for a moment as they +looked at him. Sam had a new hat, had been +shaved clean, had on a clean collar and a white +shirt, and they didn't know him at first. When +they saw that it was Ugly Sam, they uttered a shout +and leaped up.</p> + +<p>"Cave in that hat!" cried one.</p> + +<p>"Yank that collar off!" shouted another.</p> + +<p>"Let's roll him on the floor!" screamed a third.</p> + +<p>There was something in his look and bearing +which made them hesitate. The whiskey-red had +almost faded from his face, and he looked sober +and dignified. His features expressed disgust and +contempt as he looked around the room, and then +revealed pity as his eyes fell upon the red eyes and +bloated faces of the crowd before him.</p> + +<p>"Why, what ails ye, Sam?" inquired Tall +Chicago, as they all stood there.</p> + +<p>"I've come down to bid ye good-bye, boys!" he +replied, removing his hat and drawing a clean +handkerchief from his pocket.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>[page 30]</span> + +<p>"What! Hev ye turned preacher?" they shouted +in chorus.</p> + +<p>"Boys, ye know I can lick any two of ye; but I +hain't on the fight any more, an' I've put down the +last drop of whiskey which is ever to go into my +mouth! I've switched off. I've taken an oath. +I'm going to be decent!"</p> + +<p>"Sam, be you crazy?" asked Port Huron Bill, +coming nearer to him.</p> + +<p>"I've come down here to tell ye all about it," +answered Sam. "Move the cha'rs back a little and +give me room. Ye all know I've been rough, and +more too. I've been a drinker, a fighter, a gambler, +and a loafer. I can't look back and remember +when I've earned an honest dollar. The police hez +chased me around like a wolf, and I've been in jail +and the work-house, and the papers has said that +Ugly Sam was the terror of the Potomac. Ye all +know this, boys, but ye didn't know I had an old +mother."</p> + +<p>The faces of the crowd expressed amazement.</p> + +<p>"I never mentioned it to any of ye, for I was +neglecting her," he went on. "She was a poor +old body living up here in the alley, and if the +neighbours hadn't helped her to fuel and food, she'd +have been found dead long ago. I never helped +her to a cent—didn't see her for weeks and weeks, +and I used to feel mean about it. When a feller +goes back on his old mother, he's a-gittin' purty +low, and I know it. Well, she's dead—buried +yesterday! I was up there afore she died. She +sent for me by Pete, and when I got there I seen it +was all day with her."</p> + +<p>"Did she say anything?" asked one of the boys, +as Sam hesitated.</p> + +<p>"That's what ails me now," he went on. +"When I went she reached out her hand to me, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>[page 31]</span> +and says she, 'Samuel, I'm going to die, and I +know'd you'd want to see me afore I passed away!' +I sat down, feeling queer like. She didn't go on +and say as how I was a loafer, and had neglected +her, and all that, but says she, 'Samuel, you'll +be all alone when I'm gone. I've tried to be a +good mother to you, and have prayed for you +hundreds o' nights and cried about you till my +old heart was sore!' Some o' the neighbours had +dropped in, and the women were crying, and I tell +you, boys, I felt weak."</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment, and then continued:</p> + +<p>"And the old woman said she'd like to kiss me +afore death came, and that broke me right down. +She kept hold of my hand, and by-and-by she +whispered; 'Samuel, you are throwing your life +away. You've got it in you to be a man if you will +only make up your mind, I hate to die and feel +that my only son and the last of our family may go +to the gallows. If I had your promise that you'd +turn over a new leaf and try and be good, it seems +as if I'd die easier. Won't you promise me, my +son?' And I promised her, boys, and that's what +ails me! She died holding my hand, and I promised +to quit this low business and go to work. I +came down to tell ye, and now you won't see me +on the Potomac again. I've bought an axe, and +am going up in Canada to Winter."</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence for a moment, and then +he said:</p> + +<p>"Well, boys, I'll shake hands with ye all around +afore I go. Good-by, Pete—good-by, Jack—Tom—Jim. +I hope you won't fling any bricks at me, +and I shan't never fling any at any of ye. It's +a dying promise, ye see, and I'll keep it if it +takes a right arm!"</p> + +<p>The men looked reflectively at each other after +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>[page 32]</span> +he had passed out, and it was a long time before +any one spoke. Then Tall Chicago flung his clay +pipe into a corner, and said:</p> + +<p>"I'll lick the man who says Ugly Sam's head +isn't level!"</p> + +<p>"So'll I!" repeated the others.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page32a" id="page32a"></a> + +<h2>SATAN'S ADDRESS TO THE SUN.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>MILTON.</b></p> + + +<blockquote><p> +This famous speech affords opportunity for the grandest +declamation. It is studded with points—anger, hate, scorn, +admiration and defiance. The student should read, and re-read +and ponder over every line, until he catches the exact meaning +intended to be conveyed—then, following the examples already +given, he should declaim it repeatedly: +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +O</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>THOU</b>, that, with surpassing glory crown'd,</p> +<p class="i6">Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God</p> +<p>Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars</p> +<p>Hide their diminish'd heads; to thee I call,</p> +<p>But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,</p> +<p>O Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams,</p> +<p>That bring to my remembrance from what state</p> +<p>I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere;</p> +<p>Till pride and worse ambition threw me down</p> +<p>Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless king:</p> +<p>Ah, wherefore! he deserved no such return</p> +<p>From me, whom he created what I was</p> +<p>In that bright eminence, and with his good</p> +<p>Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.</p> +<p>What could be less than to afford him praise,</p> +<p>The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks,</p> +<p>How due! yet all his good proved ill in me,</p> +<p>And wrought but malice; lifted up so high</p> +<p>I 'sdain'd subjection, and thought one step higher</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>[page 33]</span> +<p>Would set me highest, and in a moment quit</p> +<p>The debt immense of endless gratitude</p> +<p>So burdensome still paying, still to owe:</p> +<p>Forgetful what from him I still received,</p> +<p>And understood not that a grateful mind</p> +<p>By owing owes not, but still pays, at once</p> +<p>Indebted and discharged; what burden then?</p> +<p>O, had his powerful destiny ordain'd</p> +<p>Me some inferior angel, I had stood</p> +<p>Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised</p> +<p>Ambition! Yet why not? some other Power</p> +<p>As great might have aspired, and me, though mean,</p> +<p>Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great</p> +<p>Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within</p> +<p>Or from without, to all temptations arm'd.</p> +<p>Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand?</p> +<p>Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse</p> +<p>But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all?</p> +<p>Be then his love accursed, since love or hate,</p> +<p>To me alike, it deals eternal woe.</p> +<p>Nay, cursed be thou; since against his thy will</p> +<p>Chose freely what it now so justly rues.</p> +<p>Me miserable! which way shall I fly</p> +<p>Infinite wrath and infinite despair?</p> +<p>Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;</p> +<p>And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep</p> +<p>Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide,</p> +<p>To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.</p> +<p>O then at last relent: Is there no place</p> +<p>Left for repentance, none for pardon left?</p> +<p>None left but by submission; and that word</p> +<p>Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame</p> +<p>Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduced</p> +<p>With other promises and other vaunts</p> +<p>Than to submit, boasting I could subdue</p> +<p>The Omnipotent. Ah me! they little know</p> +<p>How dearly I abide that boast so vain,</p> +<p>Under what torments inwardly I groan,</p> +<p>While they adore me on the throne of hell.</p> +<p>With diadem and sceptre high advanced,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>[page 34]</span> +<p>The lower still I fall, only supreme</p> +<p>In misery! Such joy ambition finds.</p> +<p>But say I could repent, and could obtain</p> +<p>By act of grace, my former state; how soon</p> +<p>Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay</p> +<p>What faint submission swore? Ease would recant</p> +<p>Vows made in pain, as violent and void.</p> +<p>For never can true reconcilement grow,</p> +<p>Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:</p> +<p>Which would but lead me to a worse relapse</p> +<p>And heavier fall; so should I purchase dear</p> +<p>Short intermission bought with double smart.</p> +<p>This knows my Punisher; therefore as far</p> +<p>From granting he, as I from begging, peace;</p> +<p>All hope excluded thus, behold, instead</p> +<p>Of us outcast, exiled, his new delight,</p> +<p>Mankind created, and for him this world,</p> +<p>So farewell, hope; and with hope, farewell, fear;</p> +<p>Farewell, remorse! all good to me is lost;</p> +<p>Evil, be thou my good; by thee at least</p> +<p>Divided empire with Heaven's King I hold,</p> +<p>By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign;</p> +<p>As man, ere long, and this new world shall know.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page34a" id="page34a"></a> + +<h2>PATRICK'S COLT.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>ANONYMOUS.</b></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +P</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>ATRICK O'FLANIGAN</b>, from Erin's isle</p> +<p class="i4">Just fresh, thinking he'd walk around a while,</p> +<p>With open mouth and widely staring eyes,</p> +<p>Cried "Och!" and "Whist!" at every new surprise.</p> +<p>He saw some labourers in a field of corn;</p> +<p>The golden pumpkins lit the scene with glory;</p> +<p>Of all that he had heard since being born,</p> +<p>Nothing had equaled this in song or story.</p> +<p>"The holy mither! and, sirs, would ye plaise</p> +<p>To be a tellin' me what might be these?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>[page 35]</span> +<p>An' sure I'm thinkin' that they're not pratees,</p> +<p>But mebbe it's the way you grow your chase."</p> +<p>"Ah, Patrick, these are mare's eggs," said the hand,</p> +<p>Giving a wink to John, and Jim, and Bill;</p> +<p>"Just hatch it out, and then you have your horse;</p> +<p>Take one and try it; it will pay you well."</p> +<p>"Faith an' that's aisy sure; in dear ould Ireland</p> +<p>I always had my Christmas pig so nate,</p> +<p>Fatted on buttermilk, and hard to bate;</p> +<p>But only gintlemen can own a horse.</p> +<p>Ameriky's a great counthry indade,</p> +<p>I thought that here I'd kape a pig, of coorse,</p> +<p>Have me own land, and shanty without rent,</p> +<p>An' have me vote, an' taxes not a cint;</p> +<p>But sure I niver thought to own a baste.</p> +<p>An' won't the wife and childer now be glad?</p> +<p>A thousand blissings on your honor's head!</p> +<p>But could ye tell by lookin' at the egg</p> +<p>What colour it will hatch? It's to me taste</p> +<p>To have a dapple gray, with a long tail,</p> +<p>High in the neck, and slinder in the leg,</p> +<p>To jump a twel' feet bog, and niver fail,</p> +<p>Like me Lord Dumferline's at last year's races—"</p> +<p>Just then the merry look on all their faces</p> +<p>Checked Patrick's flow of talk, and with a blush</p> +<p>That swept his face as milk goes over mush,</p> +<p>He added, "Sure, I know it is no use</p> +<p>To try to tell by peering at an egg</p> +<p>If it will hatch a gander or a goose;"</p> +<p>Then looked around to make judicious choice.</p> +<p>"Pick out the largest one that you can hide</p> +<p>Out of the owner's sight there by the river;</p> +<p>Don't drop and break it, or the colt is gone;</p> +<p>Carry it gently to your little farm,</p> +<p>Put it in bed, and keep it six weeks warm."</p> +<p>Quickly Pat seized a huge, ripe, yellow one,</p> +<p>"Faith, sure, an' I'll do every bit of that</p> +<p>The whole sax wakes I'll lie meself in bed,</p> +<p>An' kape it warrum, as your honour said;</p> +<p>Long life to yees, and may you niver walk,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>[page 36]</span> +<p>Not even to your grave, but ride foriver;</p> +<p>Good luck to yees," and without more of talk</p> +<p>He pulled the forelock 'neath his tattered hat,</p> +<p>And started off; but plans of mice and men</p> +<p>Gang oft agley, again and yet again.</p> +<p>Full half a mile upon his homeward road</p> +<p>Poor Patrick toiled beneath his <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'heayy'">heavy</ins> load.</p> +<p>A <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'hiltop'">hilltop</ins> gained, he stopped to rest, alas!</p> +<p>He laid his mare's egg on some treacherous grass;</p> +<p>When down the steep hillside it rolled away,</p> +<p>And at poor Patrick's call made no delay.</p> +<p>Gaining momentum, with a heavy thump,</p> +<p>It struck and split upon a hollow stump,</p> +<p>In which a rabbit lived with child and wife,</p> +<p>Frightened, the timid creature ran for life.</p> +<p>"Shtop, shtop my colt!" cried Patrick, as he ran</p> +<p>After his straying colt, but all in vain.</p> +<p>With ears erect poor Bunny faster fled</p> +<p>As "Shtop my colt!" in mournful, eager tones</p> +<p>Struck on those organs, till with fright half dead</p> +<p>He hid away among some grass and stones.</p> +<p>Here Patrick searched till rose the harvest moon,</p> +<p>Braying and whinnying till he was hoarse,</p> +<p>Hoping to lure the colt by this fond cheat;</p> +<p>"For won't the young thing want his mither soon,</p> +<p>And come to take a bit of something t'eat?"</p> +<p>But vain the tender accents of his call—</p> +<p>No colt responded from the broken wall;</p> +<p>And 'neath the twinkling stars he plodded on,</p> +<p>To tell how he had got and lost his horse.</p> +<p>"As swate a gray as iver eyes sat on,"</p> +<p>He said to Bridget and the children eight,</p> +<p>After thrice telling the whole story o'er,</p> +<p>The way he run it would be hard to bate;</p> +<p>So little, too, with jist a whisk o' tail,</p> +<p>Not a pin-feather on it as I could see,</p> +<p>For it was hatched out just sax weeks too soon!</p> +<p>An' such long ears were niver grown before</p> +<p>On any donkey in grane Ireland!</p> +<p>So little, too, you'd hold it in your hand;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>[page 37]</span> +<p>Och hone! he would have made a gray donkey."</p> +<p>So all the sad O'Flanigans that night</p> +<p>Held a loud wake over the donkey gone,</p> +<p>Eating their "pratees" without milk or salt,</p> +<p>Howling between whiles, "Och! my little colt!"</p> +<p>While Bunny, trembling from his dreadful fright,</p> +<p>Skipped home to Mrs. B. by light of moon,</p> +<p>And told the story of his scare and flight;</p> +<p>And all the neighbouring rabbits played around</p> +<p>The broken mare's egg scattered on the ground.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page37a" id="page37a"></a> + +<h2>THE WORLD FOR SALE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>REV. RALPH HOYT.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">T</span> +<b>HE</b> world for sale! Hang out the sign; call +every traveler here to me: who'll buy this brave +estate of mine, and set this weary spirit free? 'Tis +going! yes, I mean to fling the bauble from my soul +away; I'll sell it, whatsoe'er it bring: the world's at +auction here to-day! It is a glorious sight to see—but, +ah! it has deceived me sore; it is not what it +seems to be. For sale! it shall be mine no more. +Come, turn it o'er and view it well; I would not have +you purchase dear. 'Tis going! going! I must +sell! Who bids! who'll buy this splendid Tear? +Here's Wealth, in glittering heaps of gold; who +bids? But let me tell you fair, a baser lot was never +sold! Who'll buy the heavy heaps of Care? and, +here, spread out in broad domain, a goodly landscape +all may trace; hall, cottage, tree, field, hill +and plain:—who'll buy himself a burial place? +Here's Love, the dreamy potent spell that Beauty +flings around the heart; I know its power, alas! too +well; 'tis going! Love and I must part! Must +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>[page 38]</span> +part? What can I more with Love? all o'er is the +enchanter's reign. Who'll buy the plumeless, dying +dove—a breath of bliss, a storm of pain? And +Friendship, rarest gem of earth; who e'er has found +the jewel his? Frail, fickle, false, and little worth! +who bids for Friendship—as it is? 'Tis going! +going! hear the call; once, twice and thrice, 'tis +very low! 'Twas once my hope, my stay, my all, +but now the broken staff must go! Fame! hold the +brilliant meteor high; how dazzling every gilded +name! Ye millions! now's the time to buy. How +much for Fame? how much for Fame? Hear how it +thunders! Would you stand on high Olympus, far +renowned, now purchase, and a world command!—and +be with a world's curses crowned. Sweet star of +Hope! with ray to shine in every sad foreboding +breast, save this desponding one of mine—who bids +for man's last friend, and best? Ah, were not mine +a bankrupt life, this treasure should my soul sustain! +But Hope and Care are now at strife, nor ever may +unite again. Ambition, Fashion, Show and Pride, I +part from all forever now; Grief, in an overwhelming +tide, has taught my haughty heart to bow. By +Death, stern sheriff! all bereft, I weep, yet humbly +kiss the rod; the best of all I still have left—my +Faith, My Bible, and my <span class="sc">God</span>.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page38a" id="page38a"></a> + +<h2>HOW WE HUNTED A MOUSE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>JOSHUA JENKINS.</b></p> + +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">I</span> + <b>WAS</b> dozing comfortably in my easy-chair, and +dreaming of the good times which I hope are +coming, when there fell upon my ears a most startling +scream. It was the voice of my Maria Ann in +agony. The voice came from the kitchen and to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>[page 39]</span> +kitchen I rushed. The idolized form of my Maria +was perched on a chair, and she was flourishing an +iron spoon in all directions, and shouting "shoo," in +a general manner, at everything in the room. To my +anxious inquiries as to what was the matter, she +screamed, "O Joshua! a mouse, shoo—wha—shoo—a +great—ya, shoo—horrid mouse, and—she—ew—it +ran right out of the cupboard—shoo—go away—O +Lord—Joshua—shoo—kill it, oh, my—shoo."</p> + +<p>All that fuss, you see, about one little harmless +mouse. Some women are so afraid of mice. Maria +is. I got the poker and set myself to poke that +mouse, and my wife jumped down, and ran off into +another room. I found the mouse in a corner under +the sink. The first time I hit it I didn't poke it any +on account of getting the poker all tangled up in a +lot of dishes in the sink; and I did not hit it any +more because the mouse would not stay still. It ran +right toward me, and I naturally jumped, as anybody +would; but I am not afraid of mice, and when the +horrid thing ran up inside the leg of my pantaloons, +I yelled to Maria because I was afraid it would gnaw +a hole in my garment. There is something real +disagreeable about having a mouse inside the leg of +one's pantaloons, especially if there is nothing +between you and the mouse. Its toes are cold, and +its nails are scratchy, and its fur tickles, and its tail +feels crawly, and there is nothing pleasant about it, +and you are all the time afraid it will try to gnaw +out, and begin on you instead of on the cloth. That +mouse was next to me. I could feel its every motion +with startling and suggestive distinctness. For these +reasons I yelled to Maria, and as the case seemed +urgent to me I may have yelled with a certain degree +of vigor; but I deny that I yelled fire, and if I catch +the boy who thought that I did, I shall inflict punishment +on his person.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>[page 40]</span> + +<p>I did not loose my presence of mind for an instant. +I caught the mouse just as it was clambering over +my knee, and by pressing firmly on the outside of the +cloth, I kept the animal a prisoner on the inside. I +kept jumping around with all my might to confuse it, +so that it would not think about biting, and I yelled +so that the mice would not hear its squeaks and come +to its assistance. A man can't handle many mice at +once to advantage.</p> + +<p>Maria was white as a sheet when she came into +the kitchen and asked what she should do—as +though I could hold the mouse and plan a campaign +at the same time. I told her to think of something, +and she thought she would throw things at the +intruder; but as there was no earthly chance for her +to hit the mouse, while every shot took effect on me, +I told her to stop, after she had tried two flat-irons +and the coal-scuttle. She paused for breath; but I +kept bobbing around. Somehow I felt no inclination +to sit down anywhere. "O Joshua," she cried, "I +wish you had not killed the cat." Now I submit that +the wish was born of the weakness of woman's +intellect. How on earth did she suppose a cat could +get where that mouse was?—rather have the mouse +there alone, anyway, than to have a cat prowling +around after it. I reminded Maria of the fact that +she was a fool. Then she got the tea-kettle and +wanted to scald the mouse. I objected to that process, +except as a last resort. Then she got some +cheese to coax the mouse down, but I did not dare to +let go, for fear it would run up. Matters were getting +desperate. I told her to think of something else, and +I kept jumping. Just as I was ready to faint with +exhaustion, I tripped over an iron, lost my hold, and +the mouse fell to the floor, very dead. I had no idea +a mouse could be squeezed to death so easy.</p> + +<p>That was not the end of the trouble, for before I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>[page 41]</span> +had recovered my breath a fireman broke in one of +the front windows, and a whole company followed him +through, and they dradged hose around, and mussed +things all over the house, and then the foreman +wanted to thrash me because the house was not on +fire, and I had hardly got him pacified before a +policeman came in and arrested me. Some one had +run down and told him I was drunk and was killing +Maria. It was all Maria and I could do, by combining +our eloquence, to prevent him from marching me +off in disgrace, but we finally got matters quieted and +the house clear.</p> + +<p>Now when mice run out of the cupboard I go outdoors, +and let Maria "shoo" them back again. I +can kill a mouse, but the fun don't pay for the +trouble.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page41a" id="page41a"></a> + +<h2>THE DYING HEBREW.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>KIMBIE.</b></p> + + +<blockquote><p> +The following poem, a favourite with the late Mr. Edwin Forrest, was +composed by a young law student, and first published in Boston in 1858. +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +A</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>HEBREW</b> knelt in the dying light,</p> +<p class="i6">His eye was dim and cold;</p> +<p>The hairs on his brow were silver white,</p> +<p class="i2">And his blood was thin and old!</p> +<p>He lifted his look to his latest sun,</p> +<p class="i2">For he knew that his pilgrimage was done;</p> +<p>And as he saw God's shadow there,</p> +<p class="i2">His spirit poured itself in prayer!</p> +<p>"I come unto death's second birth</p> +<p class="i2">Beneath a stranger air,</p> +<p>A pilgrim on a dull, cold earth,</p> +<p class="i2">As all my fathers were!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>[page 42]</span> +<p>And men have stamped me with a curse,</p> +<p class="i2">I feel it is not Thine;</p> +<p>Thy mercy, like yon sun, was made</p> +<p class="i2">On me, as them, to shine;</p> +<p>And therefore dare I lift mine eye</p> +<p class="i2">Through that to Thee before I die!</p> +<p>In this great temple, built by Thee,</p> +<p class="i2">Whose pillars are divine,</p> +<p>Beneath yon lamp, that ceaselessly</p> +<p class="i2">Lights up Thine own true shrine,</p> +<p>Oh take my latest sacrifice—</p> +<p class="i2">Look down and make this sod</p> +<p>Holy as that where, long ago,</p> +<p class="i2">The Hebrew met his God.</p> +<p>I have not caused the widow's tears,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor dimmed the orphan's eye;</p> +<p>I have not stained the virgin's years,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor mocked the mourner's cry.</p> +<p>The songs of Zion in mine ear</p> +<p class="i2">Have ever been most sweet,</p> +<p>And always, when I felt Thee near,</p> +<p class="i2">My shoes were off my feet.</p> +<p>I have known Thee in the whirlwind,</p> +<p class="i2">I have known Thee on the hill,</p> +<p>I have loved Thee in the voice of birds,</p> +<p class="i2">Or the music of the rill;</p> +<p>I dreamt Thee in the shadow,</p> +<p class="i2">I saw Thee in the light;</p> +<p>I blessed Thee in the radiant day,</p> +<p class="i2">And worshiped Thee at night.</p> +<p>All beauty, while it spoke of Thee,</p> +<p class="i2">Still made my soul rejoice,</p> +<p>And my spirit bowed within itself</p> +<p class="i2">To hear Thy still, small voice!</p> +<p>I have not felt myself a thing,</p> +<p class="i2">Far from Thy presence driven,</p> +<p>By flaming sword or waving wing</p> +<p class="i2">Shut off from Thee and heaven.</p> +<p>Must I the whirlwind reap because</p> +<p class="i2">My fathers sowed the storm?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>[page 43]</span> +<p>Or shrink, because another sinned,</p> +<p class="i2">Beneath Thy red, right arm?</p> +<p>Oh much of this we dimly scan,</p> +<p class="i2">And much is all unknown;</p> +<p>But I will not take my curse from man—</p> +<p class="i2">I turn to Thee alone!</p> +<p>Oh bid my fainting spirit live,</p> +<p class="i2">And what is dark reveal,</p> +<p>And what is evil, oh forgive,</p> +<p class="i2">And what is broken heal.</p> +<p>And cleanse my nature from above,</p> +<p class="i2">In the dark Jordan of Thy love!</p> +<p>I know not if the Christian's heaven</p> +<p class="i2">Shall be the same as mine;</p> +<p>I only ask to be forgiven,</p> +<p class="i2">And taken home to Thine.</p> +<p>I weary on a far, dim strand,</p> +<p class="i2">Whose mansions are as tombs,</p> +<p>And long to find the Fatherland,</p> +<p class="i2">Where there are many homes.</p> +<p>Oh grant of all yon starry thrones,</p> +<p class="i2">Some dim and distant star,</p> +<p>Where Judah's lost and scattered sons</p> +<p class="i2">May love Thee from afar.</p> +<p>Where all earth's myriad harps shall meet</p> +<p class="i2">In choral praise and prayer,</p> +<p>Shall Zion's harp, of old so sweet,</p> +<p class="i2">Alone be wanting there?</p> +<p>Yet place me in Thy lowest seat,</p> +<p class="i2">Though I, as now, be there,</p> +<p>The Christian's scorn, the Christian's jest;</p> +<p class="i2">But let me see and hear,</p> +<p>From some dim mansion in the sky,</p> +<p class="i2">Thy bright ones and their melody."</p> +<p>The sun goes down with sudden gleam,</p> +<p class="i2">And—beautiful as a lovely dream</p> +<p>And silently as air—</p> +<p class="i2">The vision of a dark-eyed girl,</p> +<p>With long and raven hair,</p> +<p class="i2">Glides in—as guardian spirits glide—</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>[page 44]</span> +<p>And lo! is kneeling by his side,</p> +<p class="i2">As if her sudden presence there</p> +<p>Were sent in answer to his prayer.</p> +<p class="i2">(Oh say they not that angels tread</p> +<p>Around the good man's dying bed?)</p> +<p class="i2">His child—his sweet and sinless child—</p> +<p>And as he gazed on her</p> +<p class="i2">He knew his God was reconciled,</p> +<p>And this the messenger,</p> +<p class="i2">As sure as God had hung on high</p> +<p>The promise bow before his eye—</p> +<p class="i2">Earth's purest hopes thus o'er him flung,</p> +<p>To point his heavenward faith,</p> +<p class="i2">And life's most holy feeling strung</p> +<p>To sing him into death;</p> +<p class="i2">And on his daughter's stainless breast</p> +<p>The dying Hebrew found his rest!</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page44a" id="page44a"></a> + +<h2>GIVE ME BACK MY HUSBAND.</h2> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">N</span> +<b>OT</b> many years since, a young married couple +from the far "fast-anchored isle" sought our +shores with the most sanguine anticipations of +happiness and prosperity. They had begun to +realize more than they had seen in the visions of +hope, when, in an evil hour, the husband was tempted +"to look upon the wine when it is red," and to +taste of it, "when it giveth its colour in the cup." +The charmer fastened round its victim all the +serpent-spells of its sorcery, and he fell; and at +every step of his degradation from the man to the +brute, and downward, a heartstring broke in the +bosom of his companion.</p> + +<p>Finally, with the last spark of hope flickering on +the altar of her heart, she threaded her way into +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>[page 45]</span> +one of those shambles where man is made such a +thing as the beasts of the field would bellow at. +She pressed her way through the bacchanalian +crowd who were revelling there in their own ruin. +With her bosom full of "that perilous stuff that +preys upon the heart," she stood before the plunderer +of her husband's destiny, and exclaimed in tones +of startling anguish, "<i>Give me back my husband!</i>"</p> + +<p>"There's your husband," said the man, as he +pointed toward the prostrate wretch.</p> + +<p>"<i>That my husband?</i> What have you done to +him? <i>That my husband?</i> What have you done +to that noble form that once, like the great oak, +held its protecting shade over the fragile vine that +clung to it for support and shelter? <i>That my +husband?</i> With what torpedo chill have you touched +the sinews of that manly arm? What have you +done to that once noble brow, which he wore high +among his fellows, as if it bore the superscription +of the Godhead? <i>That my husband?</i> What have +you done to that eye, with which he was wont to +look erect on heaven, and see in his mirror the +image of his God? What Egyptian drug have +you poured into his veins, and turned the ambling +fountains of the heart into black and burning pitch? +Give me back my husband! Undo your basilisk +spells, and give me back the <i>man</i> that stood with +me by the altar!"</p> + +<p>The ears of the rumseller, ever since the first +demijohn of that burning liquid was opened upon +our shores, have been saluted, at every stage of the +traffic, with just such appeals as this. Such wives, +such widows, and mothers, such fatherless children, +as never mourned in Israel at the massacre of +Bethlehem or at the burning of the temple, have +cried in his ears, morning, night, and evening, +"<i>Give me back my husband! Give me back my boy!</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>[page 46]</span> +<i>Give me back my brother! Give me back my +sister! Give me back my wife!</i>"</p> + +<p>But has the rumseller been confounded or speechless +at these appeals? No! not he. He could +show his credentials at a moment's notice with +proud defiance. He always carried in his pocket a +written absolution for all he had done and could do +in his work of destruction. <i>He had bought a letter +of indulgence</i>—I mean a <i>license!</i>—a precious instrument, +signed and sealed by an authority stronger +and more respectable than the pope's. <i>He</i> confounded? +Why, the whole artillery of civil power +was ready to open in his defence and support. +Thus shielded by the law, he had nothing to fear +from the enemies of his traffic. He had the image +and superscription of Cæsar on his credentials, and +unto Cæsar he appealed; and unto Cæsar, too, his +<i>victims</i> appealed, and <i>appealed in vain</i>.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page46a" id="page46a"></a> + +<h2>THE ONE-HOSS SHAY; OR, THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE.</h2> + +<p> + <span class="indleft" style="float: left"><b>A LOGICAL STORY.</b></span> <span class="indright" style="float: right"><b>O. W. HOLMES.</b></span></p> + +<p class="clear" style="margin-bottom: -1.5em;"> </p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +H</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>AVE</b> you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,</p> +<p class="i6">That was built in such a logical way</p> +<p>It ran a hundred years to a day,</p> +<p>And then of a sudden, it—ah, but stay,</p> +<p>I'll tell you what happened without delay,</p> +<p>Scaring the parson into fits,</p> +<p>Frightening people out of their wits,—</p> +<p>Have you ever heard of that, I say?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.</p> +<p><i>Georgius Secundus</i> was then alive,—</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>[page 47]</span> +<p>Snuffy old drone from the German hive.</p> +<p>That was the year when Lisbon town</p> +<p>Saw the earth open and gulp her down,</p> +<p>And Braddock's army was done so brown,</p> +<p>And left without a scalp to its crown.</p> +<p>It was on the terrible Earthquake-day</p> +<p>That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now in building of chaises, I tell you what,</p> +<p>There is always <i>somewhere</i> a weakest spot,—</p> +<p>In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,</p> +<p>In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill,</p> +<p>In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace,—lurking still,</p> +<p>Find it somewhere you must and will,—</p> +<p>Above or below, or within or without,—</p> +<p>And that's the reason beyond a doubt,</p> +<p>A chaise <i>breaks down</i>, but doesn't <i>wear out</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But the Deacon swore, (as Deacons do,</p> +<p>With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell <i>yeou</i>,")</p> +<p>He would build one shay to beat the taown</p> +<p>'n' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun';</p> +<p>—"Fur," said the Deacon, "'t 's mighty plain</p> +<p>Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain;</p> +<p>'n' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain,</p> +<p class="i16">Is only jest</p> +<p>T' make that place uz strong uz the rest."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So the Deacon inquired of the village folk</p> +<p>Where he could find the strongest oak,</p> +<p>That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke,—</p> +<p>That was for spokes and floor and sills;</p> +<p>He sent for lancewood to make the thills;</p> +<p>The crossbars were ash, from the straightest <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'tress'">trees</ins>;</p> +<p>The panels of whitewood, that cut like cheese,</p> +<p>But lasts like iron for things like these;</p> +<p>The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum,"—</p> +<p>Last of its timber,—they couldn't sell 'em,</p> +<p>Never an axe had seen their chips,</p> +<p>And the wedges flew from between their lips,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>[page 48]</span> +<p>Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;</p> +<p>Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,</p> +<p>Spring, tire, axle and linchpin too,</p> +<p>Steel of the finest, bright and blue;</p> +<p>Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;</p> +<p>Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide</p> +<p>Found in the pit when the tanner died.</p> +<p>That was the way he "put her through."—</p> +<p>"There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Do! I tell you, I rather guess</p> +<p>She was a wonder, and nothing less!</p> +<p>Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,</p> +<p>Deacon and deaconess dropped away,</p> +<p>Children and grandchildren,—where were they?</p> +<p>But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay</p> +<p>As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake day!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Eighteen hundred</span>;—it came and found</p> +<p>The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound.</p> +<p>Eighteen hundred increased by ten;—</p> +<p>"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then.</p> +<p>Eighteen hundred and twenty came;—</p> +<p>Running as usual; much the same.</p> +<p>Thirty and forty at last arrive,</p> +<p>And then come fifty, and <span class="sc">fifty-five</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Little of all we value here</p> +<p>Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year</p> +<p>Without both feeling and looking queer.</p> +<p>In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth,</p> +<p>So far as I know, but a tree and truth.</p> +<p>(This is a moral that runs at large;</p> +<p>Take it.—You're welcome.—No extra charge.)</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">First of November</span>,—the Earthquake-day,—</p> +<p>There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,</p> +<p>A general flavor of mild decay,</p> +<p>But nothing local as one may say.</p> +<p>There couldn't be,—for the Deacon's art</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>[page 49]</span> +<p>Had made it so like in every part</p> +<p>That there wasn't a chance for one to start.</p> +<p>For the wheels were just as strong as the thills,</p> +<p>And the floor was just as strong as the sills,</p> +<p>And the panels just as strong as the floor,</p> +<p>And the whippletree neither less nor more,</p> +<p>And the back crossbar as strong as the fore,</p> +<p>And spring and axle and hub <i>encore</i>.</p> +<p>And yet, <i>as a whole</i>, it is past a doubt</p> +<p>In another hour it will be <i>worn out!</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>First of November, 'Fifty-five!</p> +<p>This morning the parson takes a drive.</p> +<p>Now, small boys, get out of the way!</p> +<p>Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,</p> +<p>Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.</p> +<p>"Huddup!" said the parson.—Off went they.</p> +<p>The parson was working his Sunday's text,—</p> +<p>Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed</p> +<p>At what the—Moses—was coming next.</p> +<p>All at once the horse stood still,</p> +<p>Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill.</p> +<p>—First a shiver, and then a thrill,</p> +<p>Then something decidedly like a spill,—</p> +<p>And the parson was sitting upon a rock,</p> +<p>At half-past nine by the meet'n'-house clock,—</p> +<p>Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!</p> +<p>—What do you think the parson found,</p> +<p>When he got up and stared around?</p> +<p>The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,</p> +<p>As if it had been to the mill and ground!</p> +<p>You see, of course, if you're not a dunce,</p> +<p>How it went to pieces all at once,—</p> +<p>All at once, and nothing first,—</p> +<p>Just as bubbles do when they burst.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.</p> +<p>Logic is logic. That's all I say.</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>[page 50]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page50a" id="page50a"></a> + +<h2>THE INJURED MOTHER.</h2> + +<h4>From the Rev. <span class="sc">John Brown's</span> tragedy of <span class="sc">Barbarossa</span>.</h4> + + +<h4>CHARACTERS:</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Barbarossa</span>, <i>an Usurper</i>,</p> +<p><span class="sc">Othman</span>, <i>an officer</i>,</p> +<p><span class="sc">Zaphira</span>, <i>the Widowed Queen</i>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<blockquote><p> +[This play has many passages of splendid diction, well calculated for bold +declamation. The plot of the piece runs thus: <i>Barbarossa</i> having killed, +and then usurped the throne of his friend and master, tries to obtain the +hand of Zaphira, the late monarch's widow—having previously destroyed, +(as is supposed) her son, <i>Selim</i>. The following scene represents the interviews +between the unhappy queen and her faithful Othman, and of the +queen with Barbarossa.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Costumes.</span>—<i>Barbarossa</i> green velvet robe, scarlet satin shirt, white +trousers, russet boots, and turban. <i>Othman</i>, scarlet fly, yellow satin shirt, +white slippers, turban white, scarlet cashmere vest. <i>Zaphira</i>, white dress, +embroidered with silver, turban, and Turkish shoes.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Note.</span>—A little taste will enable any smart young lady to make up these +dresses. They are mostly loose, and the embroidery may be of tinsel—while +cheap velveteen looks as well as the best velvet on the stage.] +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Scene i</span>.—<i>An apartment, with sofa.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Zaphira, r.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> (C.) When shall I be at peace? O, righteous heaven</p> +<p>Strengthen my fainting soul, which fain would rise</p> +<p>To confidence in thee! But woes on woes</p> +<p>O'erwhelm me. First my husband, now my son—</p> +<p>Both dead—both slaughter'd by the bloody hand</p> +<p>Of Barbarossa! What infernal power</p> +<p>Unchain'd thee from thy native depth of hell,</p> +<p>To stalk the earth with thy destructive train,</p> +<p>Murder and lust! To wake domestic peace,</p> +<p>And every heart-felt joy!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Othman, l.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>O, faithful Othman!</p> +<p>Our fears were true; my Selim is no more!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>[page 51]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Oth.</span> Has, then, the fatal secret reach'd thine ear? Inhuman tyrant!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> Strike him, heav'n with thunder,</p> +<p>Nor let Zaphira doubt thy providence!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Oth.</span> 'Twas what we fear'd. Oppose not heav'n's high will,</p> +<p>Nor struggle with the ten-fold chain of fate,</p> +<p>That links thee to thy woes. O, rather yield,</p> +<p>And wait the happier hour, when innocence</p> +<p>Shall weep no more. Rest in that pleasing hope,</p> +<p>And yield thyself to heaven, my honor'd queen.</p> +<p>The king——</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> Whom stylest thou king?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Oth.</span> 'Tis Barbarossa.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> Does he assume the name of king?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Oth.</span> He does.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> O, title vilely purchas'd!—by the blood</p> +<p>Of innocence—by treachery and murder!</p> +<p>May heav'n, incens'd, pour down its vengeance on him,</p> +<p>Blast all his joys, and turn them into horror</p> +<p>Till phrensy rise, and bid him curse the hour</p> +<p>That gave his crimes their birth!—My faithful Othman,</p> +<p>My sole surviving prop, canst thou devise</p> +<p>No secret means, by which I may escape</p> +<p>This hated palace?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Oth.</span> That hope is vain. The tyrant knows thy hate;</p> +<p>Hence, day and night, his guards environ thee.</p> +<p>Rouse not, then, his anger:</p> +<p>Let soft persuasion and mild eloquence</p> +<p>Redeem that liberty, which stern rebuke</p> +<p>Would rob thee of for ever.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> An injur'd queen</p> +<p>To kneel for liberty!—And, oh! to whom!</p> +<p>E'en to the murd'rer of her lord and son!</p> +<p>O, perish first, Zaphira! Yes, I'll die!</p> +<p>For what is life to me? My dear, dear lord—</p> +<p>My hapless child—yes, I will follow you!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Oth.</span> Wilt thou not see him, then?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> I will not, Othman;</p> +<p>Or, if I do, with bitter imprecation</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>[page 52]</span> +<p>More keen than poison shot from serpents' tongues,</p> +<p>I'll pour my curses on him.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Oth.</span> Will Zaphira</p> +<p>Thus meanly sink in woman's fruitless rage,</p> +<p>When she should wake revenge?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> Revenge!—O, tell me—</p> +<p>Tell, me but how?—What can a helpless woman?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Oth.</span> (<span class="sc">c.</span>). Gain but the tyrant's leave, and seek thy father;</p> +<p>Pour thy complaints before him; let thy wrongs</p> +<p>Kindle his indignation to pursue</p> +<p>This vile usurper, till unceasing war</p> +<p>Blast his ill-gotten pow'r.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> (<span class="sc">l.c.</span>). Ah! say'st thou, Othman?</p> +<p>Thy words have shot like lightning through my frame,</p> +<p>And all my soul's on fire!—thou faithful friend!</p> +<p>Yes, with more gentle speech I'll soothe his pride;</p> +<p>Regain my freedom; reach my father's tents;</p> +<p>There paint my countless woes. His kindling rage</p> +<p>Shall wake the valleys into honest vengeance;</p> +<p>The sudden storm shall pour on Barbarossa,</p> +<p>And ev'ry glowing warrior steep his shaft</p> +<p>In deadlier poison, to revenge my wrongs! (<i>crosses to</i> <span class="sc">r.</span>)</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Oth.</span> (<span class="sc">c.</span>). There spoke the queen.—But, as thou lov'st thy freedom,</p> +<p>Touch not on Selim's death. Thy soul will kindle,</p> +<p>And passion mount in flames that will consume thee.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> (<span class="sc">r.</span>). My murder'd son!—Yes, to revenge thy death,</p> +<p>I'll speak a language which my heart disdains.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Oth.</span> Peace, peace,!—the tyrant comes. Now, injur'd Queen,</p> +<p>Plead for thy freedom, hope for just revenge,</p> +<p>And check each rising passion. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="sc">Othman</span>, <span class="sc">r.</span></p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Barbarossa</span>, <span class="sc">l.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bar.</span> (<span class="sc">l.</span>). Hail sovereign fair! in whom</p> +<p>Beauty and majesty conspire to charm:</p> +<p>Behold the conqu'ror.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>[page 53]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap. (r.c.)</span> O, Barbarossa,</p> +<p>No more the pride of conquest e'er can charm</p> +<p>My widow'd heart. With my departed lord</p> +<p>My love lies buried!</p> +<p>Then turn thee to some happier fair, whose heart</p> +<p>May crown thy growing love with love sincere;</p> +<p>For I have none to give.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bar.</span> Love ne'er should die:</p> +<p>'Tis the soul's cordial—'tis the font of life;</p> +<p>Therefore should spring eternal in the breast.</p> +<p>One object lost, another should succeed,</p> +<p>And all our life be love.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> Urge me no more.—Thou mightst with equal hope</p> +<p>Woo the cold marble, weeping o'er a tomb,</p> +<p>To meet thy wishes. But, if generous love (<i>approaches him.</i>)</p> +<p>Dwell in thy breast, vouchsafe me proof sincere:</p> +<p>Give me safe convoy to the native vales</p> +<p>Of dear Mutija, where my father reigns.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bar.</span> O, blind to proffer'd bliss!—What! fondly quit</p> +<p>This pomp</p> +<p>Of empire for an Arab's wand'ring tent,</p> +<p>Where the mock chieftain leads his vagrant tribes</p> +<p>From plain to plain, and faintly shadows out</p> +<p>The majesty of kings!—Far other joys</p> +<p>Here shall attend thy call:</p> +<p>Submissive realms</p> +<p>Shall bow the neck; and swarthy kings and Queens,</p> +<p>From the far-distant Niger and the Nile,</p> +<p>Drawn captive at my conqu'ring chariot wheels,</p> +<p>Shall kneel before thee.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> Pomp and pow'r are toys,</p> +<p>Which e'en the mind at ease may well disdain:</p> +<p>But oh! what mockery is the tinsel pride</p> +<p>Of splendour, when the mind</p> +<p>Lies desolate within!—Such, such is mine!</p> +<p>O'erwhelm'd with ills, and dead to ev'ry joy;</p> +<p>Envy me not this last request, to die</p> +<p>In my dear father's tents.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bar.</span> Thy suit is vain.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>[page 54]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> Thus, kneeling at thy feet—(<i>kneels.</i>)</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bar.</span> Thou thankless fair! (<i>raises</i> <span class="sc">Zaphira</span>.)</p> +<p>Thus to repay the labours of my love!</p> +<p>Had I not seiz'd the throne when Selim died,</p> +<p>Ere this thy foes had laid Algiers in ruin.</p> +<p>I check'd the warring pow'rs, and gave you peace,</p> +<p>Make thee but mine,</p> +<p>I will descend the throne, and call thy son</p> +<p>From banishment to empire.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> O, my heart!</p> +<p>Can I bear this?</p> +<p>Inhuman tyrant!—curses on thy head!</p> +<p>May dire remorse and anguish haunt thy throne,</p> +<p>And gender in thy bosom fell despair,—</p> +<p>Despair as deep as mine! (<i>crosses to</i> <span class="sc">L.</span>)</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bar. (r.c.).</span> What means Zaphira?</p> +<p>What means this burst of grief?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap. (l.).</span> Thou fell destroyer!</p> +<p>Had not guilt steel'd thy heart, awak'ning conscience</p> +<p>Would flash conviction on thee, and each look,</p> +<p>Shot from these eyes, be arm'd with serpent horrors,</p> +<p>To turn thee into stone!—Relentless man!</p> +<p>Who did the bloody deeds—O, tremble, guilt,</p> +<p>Where'er thou art!—Look on me; tell me, tyrant,</p> +<p>Who slew my blameless son?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bar.</span> What envious tongue</p> +<p>Hath dar'd to taint my name with slander?</p> +<p>Thy Selim lives; nay, more, he soon shall reign,</p> +<p>If thou consent to bless me.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> Never, O, never!—Sooner would I roam</p> +<p>An unknown exile through the torrid climes</p> +<p>Of Afric—sooner dwell with wolves and tigers,</p> +<p>Than mount with thee my murder'd Selim's throne!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bar.</span> Rash queen, forbear; think on thy captive state,</p> +<p>Remember, that within these palace walls</p> +<p>I am omnipotent. Yield thee, then;</p> +<p>Avert the gath'ring horrors that surround thee,</p> +<p>And dread my pow'r incens'd.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Zap.</span> Dares thy licentious tongue pollute mine ear</p> +<p>With that foul menace? Tyrant! dread'st thou not</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>[page 55]</span> +<p>Th' all-seeing eye of heav'n, its lifted thunder,</p> +<p>And all the red'ning vengeance which it stores</p> +<p>For crimes like thine?—Yet know, Zaphira scorns thee.</p> +<p class="i10">[<i>crosses to</i> <span class="sc">R.</span></p> +<p>Though robb'd by thee of ev'ry dear support,</p> +<p>No tyrant's threat can awe the free-born soul,</p> +<p>That greatly dares to die. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="sc">Zaphira, r.</span></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bar. (c.).</span> Where should she learn the tale of Selim's death?</p> +<p>Could Othman dare to tell it?—If he did,</p> +<p>My rage shall sweep him swifter than the whirlwind,</p> +<p>To instant death! [<i>Exit.</i></p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center">(<span class="sc">R.</span>) Right. (<span class="sc">L.</span>) Left. (<span class="sc">C.</span>) Centre. (<span class="sc">R.C.</span>) +Right Centre. +(<span class="sc">L.C.</span>) Left Centre.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page55a" id="page55a"></a> + +<h2>THE MILLS OF GOD.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>DUGANNE.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p>Apart from the noble sentiments of these verses, and their +exquisite diction—in which every word is the best that could +possibly be used—as in a piece of faultless mosaic every minute +stone is so placed as to impart strength, brilliancy, and harmony—they +afford an excellent example of lofty, dignified recitation:</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>HOSE</b> mills of God! those tireless mills!</p> +<p class="i6">I hear their ceaseless throbs and thrills:</p> +<p>I see their dreadful stones go round,</p> +<p>And all the realms beneath them ground;</p> +<p>And lives of men and souls of states,</p> +<p>Flung out, like chaff, beyond their gates.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And we, O God! with impious will,</p> +<p>Have made these Negroes turn Thy mill!</p> +<p>Their human limbs with chains we bound,</p> +<p>And bade them whirl Thy mill-stones round;</p> +<p>With branded brow and fettered wrist,</p> +<p>We bade them grind this Nation's grist!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And so, like Samson—blind and bound—</p> +<p>Our Nation's grist this Negro ground;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>[page 56]</span> +<p>And all the strength of Freedom's toil,</p> +<p>And all the fruits of Freedom's soil,</p> +<p>And all her hopes and all her trust,</p> +<p>From Slavery's gates were flung, like dust.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>With servile souls this mill we fed,</p> +<p>That ground the grain for Slavery's bread;</p> +<p>With cringing men, and grovelling deeds,</p> +<p>We dwarfed our land to Slavery's needs;</p> +<p>Till all the scornful nations hissed,</p> +<p>To see us ground with Slavery's grist.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The mill grinds on! From Slavery's plain,</p> +<p>We reap great crops of blood-red grain;</p> +<p>And still the Negro's strength we urge,</p> +<p>With Slavery's gyve and Slavery's scourge;</p> +<p>And still we crave—on Freedom's sod—</p> +<p>That Slaves shall turn the mills of God!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The Mill grinds on! God lets it grind!</p> +<p>We sow the seed—the sheaves we bind:</p> +<p>The mill-stones whirl as we ordain;</p> +<p>Our children's bread shall test the grain!</p> +<p>While Samson still in chains we bind,</p> +<p>The mill grinds on! God lets it grind!</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page56a" id="page56a"></a> + +<h2>THE MENAGERIE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>J. HONEYWELL.</b></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +D</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>ID</b> you ever! No, I never!</p> +<p class="i6">Mercy on us, what a smell!</p> +<p>Don't be frightened, Johnny, dear!</p> +<p class="i2">Gracious! how the jackals yell!</p> +<p>Mother, tell me, what's the man</p> +<p class="i2">Doing with that pole of his?</p> +<p>Bless your little precious heart,</p> +<p class="i2">He's stirring up the beastesses!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>[page 57]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Children! don't you go so near!</p> +<p class="i2">Hevings! there's the Afric cowses!</p> +<p>What's the matter with the child?</p> +<p class="i2">Why, the monkey's tore his trowses!</p> +<p>Here's the monstrous elephant,—</p> +<p class="i2">I'm all a tremble at the sight;</p> +<p>See his monstrous tooth-pick, boys!</p> +<p class="i2">Wonder if he's fastened tight?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>There's the lion!—see his tail!</p> +<p class="i2">How he drags it on the floor!</p> +<p>'Sakes alive! I'm awful scared</p> +<p class="i2">To hear the horrid creatures roar!</p> +<p>Here's the monkeys in their cage,</p> +<p class="i2">Wide awake you are to see 'em;</p> +<p>Funny, ain't it? How would you</p> +<p class="i2">Like to have a tail and be 'em?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Johnny, darling, that's the bear</p> +<p class="i2">That tore the naughty boys to pieces;</p> +<p>Horned cattle!—only hear</p> +<p class="i2">How the dreadful camel wheezes!</p> +<p>That's the tall giraffe, my boy,</p> +<p class="i2">Who stoops to hear the morning lark;</p> +<p>'Twas him who waded Noah's flood,</p> +<p class="i2">And scorned the refuge of the ark.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Here's the crane,—the awkward bird!</p> +<p class="i2">Strong his neck is as a whaler's,</p> +<p>And his bill is full as long</p> +<p class="i2">As ever met one from the tailor's.</p> +<p>Look!—just see the zebra there,</p> +<p class="i2">Standing safe behind the bars;</p> +<p>Goodness me! how like a flag,</p> +<p class="i2">All except the corner stars!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>There's the bell! the birds and beasts</p> +<p class="i2">Now are going to be fed;</p> +<p>So my little darlings, come,</p> +<p class="i2">It 's time for you to be abed.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>[page 58]</span> +<p>"Mother, 't is n't nine o'clock!</p> +<p class="i2">You said we need n't go before;</p> +<p>Let us stay a little while,—</p> +<p class="i2">Want to see the monkeys more!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Cries the showman, "Turn 'em out!</p> +<p class="i2">Dim the lights!—there, that will do;</p> +<p>Come again to-morrow, boys;</p> +<p class="i2">Bring your little sisters, too."</p> +<p>Exit mother, half distraught,</p> +<p class="i2">Exit father, muttering "bore?"</p> +<p>Exit children, blubbering still,</p> +<p class="i2">"Want to see the monkeys more!"</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page58a" id="page58a"></a> + +<h2>IGNORANCE IS BLISS</h2> + + +<h4>CHARACTERS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Fred Brown.</span></p> +<p><span class="sc">Johnny Gray.</span></p> +<p><span class="sc">Ned White.</span></p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Scene.</span>—<i>Recitation-Room at a Public School.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Fred.</span></p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> A pretty task Master Green has given me +this time! He calls me to his desk, and says, +"Brown, those boys, Gray and White, have been +very inattentive during the music lesson: take them +into the recitation-room, and keep them there until +they can sing four stanzas of 'The Battle-cry of +Freedom.'" A nice music-master I am! I can't +read, sing, or growl a note, and I don't know a single +line of "The Battle-cry of Freedom." But I must +not let them know that. Here they are. (<i>Enter</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>[page 59]</span> +<span class="sc">Gray</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">White</span>; <i>they get in a corner of the stage, +and whisper together.</i>) Now, what conspiracy is +hatching? Hem! Here, you fellows, do you know +what you came here for?</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> To take a music lesson, I suppose.</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> Well, you had better commence.</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> Certainly, after you.</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> After me! What do you mean?</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> I believe it's the custom of all +music-masters to first sing the song they wish to teach. + (<i>Aside to</i> <span class="sc">Gray</span>.) He can't sing a note.</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Aside to</i> <span class="sc">White</span>.) He can't? good! +Let's plague him. (<i>Aloud.</i>) Come, singing-master, +proceed.</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> No matter about me. You two can sing, +and when you make a mistake I will correct it.</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> You'll correct it! That's good. With what, pray?</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> With this. (<i>Producing a ratten from +under his jacket.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> O, dear, I don't like that sort of tuning-fork.</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> You'll get it if you don't hurry. Come, +boys, "The Battle-cry of Freedom."</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Aside to</i> <span class="sc">White</span>.) Ned, do you know the +song?</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> (<i>Aside.</i>) I know just one line.</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Aside.</i>) O, dear, we're in a scrape. +(<i>Aloud.</i>) Master Fred, will you please give me the +first line? I've forgotten it.</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> Certainly. Let me see. "Rock me to +sleep, mother." No, that isn't it.</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> (<i>Aside.</i>) He's split on that rock.</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> Hem! ah! "Dear father, dear father, +come home." O, bother!</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Aside.</i>) It'll bother him to "come +home" with that line.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>[page 60]</span> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> "Give me a cot."—O, pshaw! I tell you +what, boys, I didn't come here to talk, but to listen: +now you two sing away at once, or down comes the +ratten.</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Aside.</i>) I say, Ned, Brown doesn't know +it? here's fun. Now you just keep quiet, and ring in +your line when I snap my fingers.</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> (<i>Aside.</i>) All right. I understand. +When you snap, I sing.</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> Come, come! Strike up, or I shall strike +down.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom:-0.5em;"><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Sings to the tune of the Battle-cry of Freedom</i>,)—</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Mary had a little lamb;</p> +<p>Its fleece was white as snow."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"> (<i>Snaps his fingers.</i>)</p> + </div> </div> + +<p style="margin-bottom:-0.5em;"><i>White.</i> (<i>Very loud.</i>)</p> +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Shouting the battle-cry of freedom."</p> +</div> </div> +<p style="margin-bottom:-0.5em;"><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Sings.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"And everywhere that Mary went</p> +<p>The lamb was sure to go." (<i>Snaps.</i>)</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="outdent2"><i>White.</i></span> "Shouting the battle-cry of freedom."</p> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> Capital! Perfectly correct, perfectly +correct. Sing again.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom:-0.5em;"><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Sings.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"It followed her to school one day;</p> +<p>It was against the rule." (<i>Snaps.</i>)</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="outdent2"><i>White.</i></span> "Shouting the battle-cry of freedom."</p> +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-bottom:-0.5em;"><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Sings.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"It made the children laugh and play</p> +<p>To see a lamb at school." (<i>Snaps.</i>)</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="outdent2"><i>White.</i></span> "Shouting the battle-cry of freedom."</p> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> Beautiful! beautiful! I couldn't do it +better myself.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>[page 61]</span> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Aside.</i>) I should think not.</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> Come, Mr. Singing-master, you try a +stanza.</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> What, sir! do you want to shirk your task? +Sing away.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom:-0.5em;"><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Sings.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"And so the teacher turned him out;</p> +<p>Yet still he lingered near." (<i>Snaps.</i>)</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="outdent2"><i>White.</i></span> "Shouting the battle-cry of freedom."</p> +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-bottom:-1em;"><i>Gray.</i></p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"And waited patiently about,</p> +<p>Till Mary did appear." (<i>Snaps.</i>)</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="outdent2"><i>White.</i></span> "Shouting the battle-cry of freedom."</p> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> Glorious! Why, boys, it's a perfect +uproar.</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> There's enough, isn't there?</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> No, sir, four stanzas. Come, be quick.</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> I don't know any more.</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> I'm sure I don't.</p> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> Yes you do, you're trying to shirk; but I +won't have it. You want a taste of the rattan. +Come, be lively.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom:-0.5em;"><i>Gray.</i> (<i>Sings.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"'What makes the lamb love Mary so?'</p> +<p>The eager children cry." (<i>Snaps.</i>)</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="outdent2"><i>White.</i></span> "Shouting the battle-cry of freedom."</p> +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-bottom:-1em;"><i>Gray.</i></p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Why, Mary loves the lamb, you know,'</p> +<p>The teacher did reply." (<i>Snaps.</i>)</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="outdent2"><i>White.</i></span> "Shouting the battle-cry of freedom."</p> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Fred.</i> There, boys, I knew you could sing. Now +come in, and I will tell Master Green how capitally +you have done—that I couldn't do better myself.</p> + +<p class="indright">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>[page 62]</span> + +<p><i>White.</i> Well, Johnny, we got out of that scrape +pretty well.</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> Yes, Ned; but it's a poor way. I must +pay a little more attention to my singing.</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> And so must I, for we may not always +have a teacher on whom the old saying fits so well.</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> Old saying? What's that?</p> + +<p><i>White.</i> "Where ignorance is bliss—"</p> + +<p><i>Gray.</i> O, yes, "'Twere folly to be wise."</p> + +<p class="indright">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page62a" id="page62a"></a> + +<h2>THE VULTURE OF THE ALPS.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>ANONYMOUS.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +[The following stirring poem is highly dramatic. The reader should, as +far as possible, realize the feelings of the shepherd-parent as he sees "the +youngest of his babes" borne in the iron-claws of the vulture high in mid +air towards his golgotha of a nest. Much force of attitude and gesture is +not only admissable, but called for, as the agonized father leans forward +following the flight of the vulture.] +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +I</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"><b>'VE</b> been among the mighty Alps, and wandered through their vales,</p> +<p class="i4">And heard the honest mountaineers relate their dismal tales,</p> +<p>As round the cottage blazing hearth, when their daily work was o'er</p> +<p>They spake of those who disappeared, and ne'er were heard of more.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And there I from a shepherd heard a narrative of fear,</p> +<p>A tale to rend a mortal heart, which mothers might not hear:</p> +<p>The tears were standing in his eyes, his voice was tremulous.</p> +<p>But, wiping all those tears away, he told his story thus:—</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>[page 63]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"It is among these barren cliffs the ravenous vulture dwells,</p> +<p>Who never fattens on the prey which from afar he smells;</p> +<p>But, patient, watching hour on hour upon a lofty rock,</p> +<p>He singles out some truant lamb, a victim, from the flock.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"One cloudless Sabbath summer morn, the sun was rising high,</p> +<p>When from my children on the green, I heard a fearful cry,</p> +<p>As if some awful deed were done, a shriek of grief and pain,</p> +<p>A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear again.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"I hurried out to learn the cause; but, overwhelmed with fright,</p> +<p>The children never ceased to shriek, and from my frenzied sight</p> +<p>I missed the youngest of my babes, the darling of my care,</p> +<p>But something caught my searching eyes, slow sailing through the air.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Oh! what an awful spectacle to meet a father's eye!</p> +<p>His infant made a vulture's prey, with terror to descry!</p> +<p>And know, with agonizing breast, and with a maniac rave,</p> +<p>That earthly power could not avail, that innocent to save!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"My infant stretched his little hands imploringly to me,</p> +<p>And struggled with the ravenous bird, all vainly to get free,</p> +<p>At intervals, I heard his cries, as loud he shrieked and screamed:</p> +<p>Until, upon the azure sky, a lessening spot he seemed.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"The vulture flapped his sail-like wings, though heavily he flew,</p> +<p>A mote upon the sun's broad face he seemed unto my view:</p> +<p>But once I thought I saw him stoop, as if he would alight;</p> +<p>'Twas only a delusive thought, for all had vanished quite.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>[page 64]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"All search was vain, and years had passed; that child was ne'er forgot,</p> +<p>When once a daring hunter climbed unto a lofty spot,</p> +<p>From whence, upon a rugged crag the chamois never reached,</p> +<p>He saw an infant's fleshless bones the elements had bleached!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"I clambered up that rugged cliff; I could not stay away;</p> +<p>I knew they were my infant's bones thus hastening to decay;</p> +<p>A tattered garment yet remained, though torn to many a shred,</p> +<p>The crimson cap he wore that morn was still upon the head."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>That dreary spot is pointed out to travellers passing by,</p> +<p>Who often stand, and, musing, gaze, nor go without a sigh.</p> +<p>And as I journeyed, the next morn, along my sunny way,</p> +<p>The precipice was shown to me, whereon the infant lay.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page64a" id="page64a"></a> + +<h2>FALSTAFF'S BOASTING</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>SHAKESPEARE.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +This scene will give a good chance to practise <i>variety</i> of +expression, both in words and action. Falstaff throws himself +into all the attitudes, and elevates and depresses his voice, as if +he was actually engaged in the combat he describes—preserving +the utmost gravity of face, until he finds that the Prince has +really detected him. Then the "fat rogue" bursts into a jolly, +unctuous laugh, and carries off the honors, after all: +</p></blockquote> + + +<p><i>P. Henry.</i> What's the matter?</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> What's the matter? there be four of us here +have ta'en a thousand pound this morning.</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> Where is it, Jack? where is it?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>[page 65]</span> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> Where is it? taken from us it is: a hundred +upon poor four of us.</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> What, a hundred, man?</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword +with a dozen of them two hours together. I have +'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through +the doublet; four, through the hose; my buckler cut +through and through; my sword hacked like a hand-saw +<i>ecce signum</i>. I never dealt better since I was a +man: all would not do. A plague of all cowards!—Let +them speak: if they speak more or less than +truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness.</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> Speak, sirs: how was it?</p> + +<p><i>Gads.</i> We four set upon some dozen,—</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> Sixteen at least, my lord.</p> + +<p><i>Gads.</i> And bound them.</p> + +<p><i>Peto.</i> No, no, they were not bound.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> You rogue, they were bound, every man of +them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.</p> + +<p><i>Gads.</i> As we were sharing, some six or seven +fresh men set upon us.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> And unbound the rest, and then come in the +other.</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> What, fought ye with them all?</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> All! I know not what ye call, all; but if I +fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish; +if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old +Jack, then I am no two-legged creature.</p> + +<p><i>Poins.</i> Pray God, you have not murdered some of +them.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> Nay, that's past praying for, for I have +peppered two of them: two, I am sure, I have paid; +two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal,—if +I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. +Thou knowest my old ward;—here I lay, and thus +I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at +me.—</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>[page 66]</span> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> What, four? thou said'st but two, even +now.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> Four, Hal; I told thee four.</p> + +<p><i>Poins.</i> Ay, ay, he said four.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> These four came all a-front, and mainly +thrust at me. I made no more ado, but took all their +seven points in my target, thus.</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> Seven? why, there were but four, even +now.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> In buckram.</p> + +<p><i>Poins.</i> Ay, four in buckram suits.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> Pr'ythee, let him alone; we shall have +more anon.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> Dost thou hear me, Hal?</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> Do, so, for it is worth the listening to. The +nine in buckram that I told thee of,——</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> So, two more already.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> Their points being broken,——</p> + +<p><i>Poins.</i> Down fell their hose.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> Began to give me ground: But I followed +me close, came in foot and hand: and, with a +thought, seven of the eleven I paid.</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> O monstrous! eleven buckram men +grown out of two!</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten +knaves, in Kendal green, came at my back, +and let drive at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that +thou couldst not see thy hand.</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> These lies are like the father that begets +them; gross as a mountain, open palpable. Why, +thou clay-brained guts; thou knotty-pated fool! thou +whoreson, obscene, greasy, tallow-keech,—</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not +the truth, the truth?</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> Why, how couldst thou know these men +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>[page 67]</span> +in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst +not see thy hand? come, tell us thy reason; what +sayest thou to this?</p> + +<p><i>Poins.</i> Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> What, upon compulsion? No; were I at +the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would +not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on +compulsion! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries +I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this +sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse back-breaker, +this huge hill of flesh;—</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you +dried neat's-tongue, bull's-pizzle, you stock-fish,—O +for breath to utter what is like thee!—you tailor's +yard, you sheathe, you bow-case, you vile standing +tuck;—</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> Well, breathe a while and then to it +again; and when thou hast tired thyself in base +comparisons hear me speak but this.</p> + +<p><i>Poins.</i> Mark, Jack.</p> + +<p><i>P. Hen.</i> We two saw you four set on four: you +bound them, and were masters of their wealth.—Mark +now how plain a tale shall put you down.—Then +did we two set on you four: and, with a word, +out-faced you from your prize, and have it; yea, and +can show it you here in the house:—and, Falstaff, +you carried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick +dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and +roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art +thou, to hack thy sword, as thou hast done; and +then say, it was a fight! What trick, what device, +what starting-hole, canst now find out, to hide thee +from this open and apparent shame?</p> + +<p><i>Poins.</i> Come, let's hear, Jack: What trick hast +thou now?</p> + +<p><i>Fal.</i> By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>[page 68]</span> +made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters: Was it for +me to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the +true prince? Why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as +Hercules; but beware instinct; the lion will not +touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter; I +was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of +myself and thee, during my life; I, for a valiant +lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord, +lads, I am glad you have the money.—Hostess, clap +to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow.—Gallant, +lads, boys, hearts of gold. All the titles of +good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be +merry? shall we have a play extempore?</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page68a" id="page68a"></a> + +<h2>ON TO FREEDOM.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>DUGANNE.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +This poem should be delivered with bold energy, with flashing +eye, swelling breast, and free action—as though the speaker's +heart was full of the nobility of the theme: +</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote><p> +"There has been the cry—'On to Richmond!' And still another cry—On +to England!' Better than either is the cry—'On to Freedom!'"</p> + +<p class="author2"><span class="sc">Charles Sumner.</span> +</p></blockquote> + + + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +O</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>N</b> to Freedom! On to Freedom!</p> +<p class="i6">'Tis the everlasting cry</p> +<p>Of the floods that strive with ocean—</p> +<p class="i2">Of the storms that smite the sky;</p> +<p>Of the atoms in the whirlwind,</p> +<p class="i2">Of the seed beneath the ground—</p> +<p>Of each living thing in Nature</p> +<p class="i6">That is bound!</p> +<p>'Twas the cry that led from Egypt,</p> +<p class="i2">Through the desert wilds of Edom:</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>[page 69]</span> +<p>Out of darkness—out of bondage—</p> +<p class="i2">On to Freedom! On to Freedom!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>O! thou stony-hearted Pharaoh!</p> +<p class="i2">Vainly warrest thou with God!</p> +<p>Moveless, at thy palace portals,</p> +<p class="i2">Moses waits, with lifted rod!</p> +<p>O! thou poor barbarian, Xerxes!</p> +<p class="i2">Vainly o'er the Pontic main</p> +<p>Flingest thou, to curb its utterance,</p> +<p class="i6">Scourge or chain!</p> +<p>For, the cry that led from Egypt,</p> +<p class="i2">Over desert wilds of Edom,</p> +<p>Speaks alike through Greek and Hebrew;</p> +<p class="i2">On to Freedom! On to Freedom!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>In the Roman streets, with Gracchus,</p> +<p class="i2">Hark! I hear that cry outswell;</p> +<p>In the German woods with Hermann,</p> +<p class="i2">And on Switzer hills, with Tell;</p> +<p>Up from Spartacus, the Bondman,</p> +<p class="i2">When his tyrants yoke he clave,</p> +<p>And from Stalwart Wat the Tyler—</p> +<p class="i6">Saxon slave!</p> +<p>Still the old, old cry of Egypt,</p> +<p class="i2">Struggling up from wilds of Edom—</p> +<p>Sounding still through all the ages:</p> +<p class="i2">On to Freedom! On to Freedom!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>On to Freedom! On to Freedom!</p> +<p class="i2">Gospel cry of laboring Time:</p> +<p>Uttering still, through seers and sages,</p> +<p class="i2">Words of hope and faith sublime!</p> +<p>From our Sidneys, and our Hampdens,</p> +<p class="i2">And our Washingtons they come:</p> +<p>And we cannot, and we dare not</p> +<p class="i6">Make them dumb!</p> +<p>Out of all the shames of Egypt—</p> +<p class="i2">Out of all the snares of Edom;</p> +<p>Out of darkness—out of bondage—</p> +<p class="i2">On to Freedom! On to Freedom!</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>[page 70]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page70a" id="page70a"></a> + +<h2>THE MURDERED TRAVELLER.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.</b></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +W</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>HEN</b> spring, to woods and wastes around,</p> +<p class="i6">Brought bloom and joy again,</p> +<p>The murdered traveller's bones were found,</p> +<p class="i2">Far down a narrow glen.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The fragrant birch, above him, hung</p> +<p class="i2">Her tassels in the sky;</p> +<p>And many a vernal blossom sprung,</p> +<p class="i2">And nodded, careless, by.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The red-bird warbled, as he wrought</p> +<p class="i2">His hanging nest o'erhead;</p> +<p>And, fearless, near the fatal spot,</p> +<p class="i2">Her young the partridge led.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But there was weeping far away,</p> +<p class="i2">And gentle eyes, for him,</p> +<p>With watching many an anxious day,</p> +<p class="i2">Grew sorrowful and dim.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>They little knew, who loved him so,</p> +<p class="i2">The fearful death he met,</p> +<p>When shouting o'er the desert snow,</p> +<p class="i2">Unarmed, and hard beset.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Nor how, when round the frosty pole,</p> +<p class="i2">The northern dawn was red,</p> +<p>The mountain-wolf and wild-cat stole,</p> +<p class="i2">To banquet on the dead;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Nor how, when strangers found his bones,</p> +<p class="i2">They dressed the hasty bier,</p> +<p>And marked his grave with nameless stones,</p> +<p class="i2">Unmoistened by a tear.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But long they looked, and feared and wept,</p> +<p class="i2">Within his distant home;</p> +<p>And dreamt and started as they slept,</p> +<p class="i2">For joy that he was come.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>[page 71]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So long they looked—but never spied</p> +<p>His welcome step again,</p> +<p>Nor knew the fearful death he died,</p> +<p>Far down that narrow glen.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page71a" id="page71a"></a> + +<h2>DAVID'S LAMENT OVER ABSALOM.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>N. P. WILLIS.</b></p> + + +<blockquote><p> +This admirable composition gives ample scope for gentle, +mournful, tear-stricken recitation. The thoughts prompt the +speaker to natural expression: +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"> <b>T<span class="sc">he</span></b> king stood still</p> +<p>Till the last echo died: then throwing off</p> +<p>The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back</p> +<p>The pall from the still features of his child,</p> +<p>He bowed his head upon him and broke forth</p> +<p>In the resistless eloquence of woe:—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Alas! my noble boy! that thou should'st die</p> +<p class="i2">Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair!</p> +<p>That death should settle in thy glorious eye,</p> +<p class="i2">And leave his stillness in this clustering hair.</p> +<p>How could he mark <i>thee</i> for the silent tomb,</p> +<p class="i6">My proud boy, Absalom!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill,</p> +<p class="i2">As to my bosom I have tried to press thee;</p> +<p>How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill,</p> +<p class="i2">Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee,</p> +<p>And hear thy sweet '<i>my father</i>' from these dumb</p> +<p class="i6">And cold lips, Absalom!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush</p> +<p class="i2">Of music, and the voices of the young;</p> +<p>And life will pass me in the mantling blush,</p> +<p class="i2">And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>[page 72]</span> +<p>But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shall come</p> +<p class="i2">To meet me, Absalom!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"And, oh! when I am stricken, and my heart,</p> +<p class="i2">Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken,</p> +<p>How will its love for thee, as I depart,</p> +<p class="i2">Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token!</p> +<p>It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom,</p> +<p class="i6">To see thee, Absalom!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"And now, farewell! 'Tis hard to give thee up,</p> +<p class="i2">With death so like a gentle slumber on thee:—</p> +<p>And thy dark sin!—Oh! I could drink the cup,</p> +<p class="i2">If from this woe its bitterness had won thee.</p> +<p>May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home,</p> +<p class="i6">My erring Absalom!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He covered up his face, and bowed himself</p> +<p>A moment on his child: then, giving him</p> +<p>A look of melting tenderness, he clasped</p> +<p>His hands convulsively, as if in prayer;</p> +<p>And, as a strength were given him of God,</p> +<p>He rose up calmly, and composed the pall</p> +<p>Firmly and decently, and left him there,</p> +<p>As if his rest had been a breathing sleep.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page72a" id="page72a"></a> + +<h2>THE BOY ARCHER.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>SHERIDAN KNOWLES.</b></p> + + +<blockquote><p> +The fire and energy of Tell contrasts nobly with the youthful +ambition of his son's young and noble heart. It is a charming +exercise, and exceedingly effective when well delivered: +</p></blockquote> + + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Scene.</span>—<i>Exterior of</i> <span class="sc">Tell's</span> <i>cottage. Enter</i> +<span class="sc">Albert</span> +(<span class="sc">Tell's</span> <i>son</i>) <i>with bow and arrows, and</i> <span class="sc">Verner</span>.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Verner.</i> Ah! Albert! What have you there?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Albert.</i> My bow and arrows, Verner.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Ver.</i> When will you use them like your father, boy?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>[page 73]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> Some time, I hope.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Ver.</i> You +brag! There's not an archer</p> +<p>In all Helvetia can compare with him.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> But I'm his son; and when I am a man</p> +<p>I may be like him. Verner, do I brag,</p> +<p>To think I some time may be like my father?</p> +<p>If so, then is it he that teaches me;</p> +<p>For, ever as I wonder at his skill,</p> +<p>He calls me boy, and says I must do more</p> +<p>Ere I become a man.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Ver.</i> May +you be such</p> +<p>A man as he—if heaven wills, better—I'll</p> +<p>Not quarrel with its work; yet 'twill content me</p> +<p>If you are only such a man.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> I'll show you</p> +<p>How I can shoot (<i>goes out to fix the mark.</i>)</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Ver.</i> Nestling as he is, he is the making of a bird</p> +<p>Will own no cowering wing.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8"><i>Re-enter</i> <span class="sc">Albert</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> Now, Verner, look! (<i>shoots</i>) There's within</p> +<p>An inch!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Ver.</i> Oh, fy! it wants a hand. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="sc">Verner</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> A hand's</p> +<p>An inch for me. I'll hit it yet. Now for it.</p> + </div></div> +<p class="center"><i>While</i> <span class="sc">Albert</span> <i>continues to shoot,</i> <span class="sc">Tell</span> <i>enters and watches +him some time, in silence.</i></p> + <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> That's scarce a miss that comes so near the mark?</p> +<p>Well aimed, young archer! With what ease he bends</p> +<p>The bow. To see those sinews, who'd believe</p> +<p>Such strength did lodge in them? That little arm,</p> +<p>His mother's palm can span, may help, anon,</p> +<p>To pull a sinewy tyrant from his seat,</p> +<p>And from their chains a prostrate people lift</p> +<p>To liberty. I'd be content to die,</p> +<p>Living to see that day! What, Albert!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> Ah!</p> +<p>My father!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>[page 74]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> You raise the bow</p> +<p>Too fast. (<span class="sc">Albert</span> <i>continues shooting.</i>)</p> +<p>Bring it slowly to the eye.—You've missed.</p> +<p>How often have you hit the mark to-day?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Abl.'"><i>Alb.</i></ins> Not once, yet. </p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> You're not steady. I perceive</p> +<p>You wavered now. Stand firm. Let every limb</p> +<p>Be braced as marble, and as motionless.</p> +<p>Stand like the sculptor's statue on the gate</p> +<p>Of Altorf, that looks life, yet neither breathes</p> +<p>Nor stirs. (<span class="sc">Albert</span> <i>shoots</i>) That's better!</p> +<p>See well the mark. Rivet your eye to it</p> +<p>There let it stick, fast as the arrow would,</p> +<p>Could you but send it there. (<span class="sc">Albert</span> <i>shoots</i>)</p> +<p>You've missed again! How would you fare,</p> +<p>Suppose a wolf should cross your path, and you</p> +<p>Alone, with but your bow, and only time</p> +<p>To fix a single arrow? 'Twould not do</p> +<p>To miss the wolf! You said the other day,</p> +<p>Were you a man you'd not let Gesler live—</p> +<p>'Twas easy to say that. Suppose you, now,</p> +<p>Your life or his depended on that shot!—</p> +<p>Take care! That's Gesler!—Now for liberty!</p> +<p>Right to the tyrant's heart! (<i>hits the mark</i>) Well done, my boy!</p> +<p>Come here. How early were you up?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> Before the sun.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> Ay, strive with him. He never lies abed</p> +<p>When it is time to rise. Be like the sun.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> What you would have me like, I'll be like,</p> +<p>As far as will to labor joined can make me.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> Well said, my boy! Knelt you when you got up To-day?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> I did; and do so every day.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> I know you do! And think you, when you kneel,</p> +<p>To whom you kneel?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> To Him who made me, father.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> And in whose name?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> The name of Him who died</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>[page 75]</span> +<p>For me and all men, that all men and I</p> +<p>Should live</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> That's right. Remember that my son:</p> +<p>Forget all things but that—remember that!</p> +<p>'Tis more than friends or fortune; clothing, food;</p> +<p>All things on earth; yea, life itself!—It is</p> +<p>To live, when these are gone, when they are naught—</p> +<p>With God! My son remember that!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> I will.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> I'm glad you value what you're taught.</p> +<p>That is the lesson of content, my son;</p> +<p>He who finds which has all—who misses, nothing.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> Content is a good thing.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> A thing, the good</p> +<p>Alone can profit by. But go, Albert,</p> +<p>Reach thy cap and wallet, and thy mountain staff.</p> +<p>Don't keep me waiting. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="sc">Albert</span>.</p> + </div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Tell</span> <i>paces the stage in thought. Re-enter</i> <span class="sc">Albert</span>.</p> + <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> I am ready, father.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> (<i>taking</i> <span class="sc">Albert</span> <i>by the hand</i>). Now mark me, Albert</p> +<p class="i16">Dost thou fear the snow,</p> +<p>The ice-field, or the hail flaw? Carest thou for</p> +<p>The mountain mist that settles on the peak,</p> +<p>When thou art upon it? Dost thou tremble at</p> +<p>The torrent roaring from the deep ravine,</p> +<p>Along whose shaking ledge thy track doth lie?</p> +<p>Or faintest thou at the thunder-clap, when on</p> +<p>The hill thou art o'ertaken by the cloud,</p> +<p>And it doth burst around thee? Thou must travel</p> +<p>All night.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> I'm ready; say all night again.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> The mountains are to cross, for thou must reach</p> +<p>Mount Faigel by the dawn.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> Not sooner shall</p> +<p>The dawn be there than I.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> Heaven speeding thee.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> Heaven speeding me.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> Show me thy staff. Art sure</p> +<p>Of the point? I think 'tis loose. No—stay! 'Twill do.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>[page 76]</span> +<p>Caution is speed when danger's to be passed.</p> +<p>Examine well the crevice. Do not trust the snow!</p> +<p>'Tis well there is a moon to-night.</p> +<p>You're sure of the track?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> Quite sure.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> The buskin of</p> +<p>That leg's untied; stoop down and fasten it.</p> +<p>You know the point where you must round the cliff?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Alb.</i> I do.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Tell.</i> Thy belt is slack—draw it tight.</p> +<p>Erni is in Mount Faigel: take this dagger</p> +<p>And give it him! you know its caverns well.</p> +<p>In one of them you will find him. Farewell.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page76a" id="page76a"></a> + +<h2>A VENTRILOQUIST ON A STAGE-COACH.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>HENRY COCKTON.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">N</span> +<b>OW</b> then, look alive there!" shouted the coachman +from the booking-office door, as Valentine +and his Uncle John approached. "Have yow +got that are mare's shoe made comfor'ble, Simon!"</p> + +<p>"All right, sir," said Simon, and he went round to +see if it were so, while the luggage was being +secured.</p> + +<p>"Jimp up, genelmen!" cried the coachman, as he +waddled from the office with his whip in one hand +and his huge way-bill in the other; and the passengers +accordingly proceeded to arrange themselves on +the various parts of the coach,—Valentine, by the +particular desire of Uncle John, having deposited +himself immediately behind the seat of the coachman.</p> + +<p>"If you please," said an old lady, who had been +standing in the gateway upwards of an hour, "will +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>[page 77]</span> +you be good enow, please, to take care of my +darter?"</p> + +<p>"All safe," said the coachman, untwisting the +reins. "She shaunt take no harm. Is she going all +the way?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied the old lady; "God bless her! +She's got a place in Lunnun, an' I'm told—"</p> + +<p>"Hook on them ere two sacks o' whoats there behind," +cried the coachman; "I marn't go without +'em this time.—Now, all right there?"</p> + +<p>"Good by, my dear," sobbed the old lady, "do +write to me soon, be sure you do,—I only want to +hear from you often. Take care of yourself."</p> + +<p>"Hold hard!" cried the coachman, as the horses +were dancing, on the cloths being drawn from their +loins. "Whit, whit!" and away they pranced, as +merrily as if they had known that <i>their</i> load was +nothing when compared with the load they left behind +them. Even old Uncle John, as he cried +"Good by, my dear boy," and waved his hand for +the last time, felt the tears trickling down his +cheeks.</p> + +<p>The salute was returned, and the coach passed on.</p> + +<p>The fulness of Valentine's heart caused him for the +first hour to be silent; but after that, the constant +change of scene and the pure bracing air had the +effect of restoring his spirits, and he felt a powerful +inclination to sing. Just, however, as he was about +to commence for his own amusement, the coach +stopped to change horses. In less than two minutes +they started again, and Valentine, who then felt +ready for anything, began to think seriously of the +exercise of his power as a ventriloquist.</p> + +<p>"Whit, whit!" said Tooler, the coachman, between +a whisper and a whistle, as the fresh horses +galloped up the hill.</p> + +<p>"Stop! hoa!" cried Valentine, assuming a voice, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>[page 78]</span> +the sound of which appeared to have travelled some +distance.</p> + +<p>"You have left some one behind," observed a +gentleman in black, who had secured the box seat.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let un run a bit!" said Tooler. "Whit! I'll +give un a winder up this little hill, and teach un to +be up in time in future. If we was to wait for every +passenger as chooses to lag behind, we shouldn't git +over the ground in a fortnit."</p> + +<p>"Hoa! stop! stop! stop!" reiterated Valentine, +in the voice of a man pretty well out of breath.</p> + +<p>Tooler, without deigning to look behind, retickled +the haunches of his leaders, and gleefully chuckled +at the idea of <i>how</i> he was making a passenger sweat.</p> + +<p>The voice was heard no more, and Tooler, on +reaching the top of the hill, pulled up and looked +round, but could see no man running.</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" inquired Tooler.</p> + +<p>"In the ditch!" replied Valentine, throwing his +voice behind.</p> + +<p>"In the ditch!" exclaimed Tooler. "Blarm me, +whereabouts?"</p> + +<p>"There," said Valentine.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!" cried the gentleman in black, +who was an exceedingly nervous village clergyman. +"The poor person no doubt is fallen down in an +absolute state of exhaustion. How very, very wrong +of you, coachman, not to stop!"</p> + +<p>Tooler, apprehensive of some serious occurrence, +got down with the view of dragging the exhausted +passenger out of the ditch; but although he ran +several hundred yards down the hill, no such person +of course could be found.</p> + +<p>"Who saw un?" shouted Tooler, as he panted up +the hill again.</p> + +<p>"I saw nothing," said a passenger behind, "but a +boy jumping over the hedge."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>[page 79]</span> + +<p>Tooler looked at his way-bill, counted the +passengers, found them all right, and, remounting +the box, got the horses again into a gallop, in the +perfect conviction that some villanous young scarecrow +had raised the false alarm.</p> + +<p>"Whit! blarm them 'ere boys!" said Tooler, +"'stead o' mindin' their crows, they are allus up to +suffen. I only wish I had un here, I'd pay <i>on</i> to +their blarmed bodies; if I would n't—" At this +interesting moment, and as if to give a practical +illustration of what he would have done in the case, +he gave the off-wheeler so telling a cut round the +loins that the animal without any ceremony kicked +over the trace. Of course Tooler was compelled to +pull up again immediately; and after having adjusted +the trace, and asking the animal seriously what +he meant, at the same time enforcing the question by +giving him a blow on the bony part of the nose, he +prepared to remount; but just as he had got his left +foot upon the nave of the wheel, Valentine so +admirably imitated the sharp snapping growl of a +dog in the front boot, that Tooler started back as +quickly as if he had been shot, while the gentleman +in black dropped the reins and almost jumped into +the road.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious!" exclaimed the gentleman in +black, trembling with great energy; "How wrong, +how very horribly wrong, of you, coachman, not to +tell me that a dog had been placed beneath my feet."</p> + +<p>"Blarm their carcases!" cried Tooler, "they never +told <i>me</i> a dog was shoved there. Lay <i>down</i>! +We'll soon have yow out there together!"</p> + +<p>"Not for the world!" cried the gentleman in +black, as Tooler approached the foot-board in order +to open it. "Not for the world! un-un-un-less you +le-le-let me get down first. I have no desire to pe-pe-perish +of hydropho-phobia."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>[page 80]</span> + +<p>"Kip yar fut on the board then, sir, please," said +Tooler, "we'll soon have the varmint out o' that." +So saying, he gathered up the reins, remounted the +box, and started off the horses again at full gallop.</p> + +<p>The gentleman in black then began to explain to +Tooler how utterly inconceivable was the number of +persons who had died of hydrophobia within an +almost unspeakable short space of time, in the +immediate vicinity of the residence of a friend of his +in London; and just as he had got into the marrow +of a most excruciating description of the intense +mental and physical agony of which the disease in +its worst stage was productive, both he and Tooler +suddenly sprang back, with their feet in the air, and +their heads between the knees of the passengers behind +them, on Valentine giving a loud growling +snap, more bitingly indicative of anger than before.</p> + +<p>As Tooler had tightly hold of the reins when he +made this involuntary spring, the horses stopped on +the instant, and allowed him time to scramble up +again without rendering the slow process dangerous.</p> + +<p>"I cannot, I-I-I positively cannot," said the +gentleman in black, who had been thrown again into +a dreadful state of excitement, "I cannot sit here,—my +nerves cannot endure it; it's perfectly shocking."</p> + +<p>"Blister their bowls!" exclaimed Tooler, whose +first impulse was to drag the dog out of the boot at +all hazards, but who, on seeing the horses waiting +in the road a short distance ahead for the next stage, +thought it better to wait till he had reached them. +"I'll make un remember this the longest day o' thar +blessed lives,—blarm un! Phih! I'll let un know +when I get back, I warrant. I'll larn un to—"</p> + +<p>"Hoa, coachman! hoa! my hat's off!" cried +Valentine, throwing his voice to the back of the +coach.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>[page 81]</span> + +<p>"Well, <i>may</i> I be—phit!" said Tooler. "I'll make +yow run for't anyhow—phit!"</p> + +<p>In less than a minute the coach drew up opposite +the stable, when the gentleman in black at once +proceeded to alight. Just, however, as his foot +reached the plate of the roller-bolt, another growl +from Valentine frightened him backwards, when falling +upon one of the old horse-keepers, he knocked +him fairly down, and rolled over him heavily.</p> + +<p>"Darng your cloomsy carkus," cried the horse-keeper, +gathering himself up, "carn't you git oof ar +cooarch aroat knocking o' pipple darn?"</p> + +<p>"I-I-I beg pardon," tremblingly observed the +gentleman in black; "I hope I-I—"</p> + +<p>"Whoap! pardon!" contemptuously echoed the +horse-keeper as he limped towards the bars to +unhook the leaders' traces.</p> + +<p>"Now then, yow warmint, let's see who yow belong +to," said Tooler, approaching the mouth of the +boot; but just as he was in the act of raising the +foot-board, another angry snap made him close it +again with the utmost rapidity.</p> + +<p>"Lay down! blarm your body!" cried Tooler, +shrinking back. "Here, yow Jim, kim here, bor, +and take this 'ere devil of a dog out o' that."</p> + +<p>Jim approached, and the growling was louder than +before, while the gentleman in black implored Jim to +take care that the animal didn't get hold of his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Here, yow Harry!" shouted Jim, "yare noot +afeared o' doogs together,—darng un, <i>I</i> doont +like un."</p> + +<p>Accordingly Harry came, and then Sam, and then +Bob, and then Bill; but as the dog could not be +seen, and as the snarling continued, neither of them +dared to put his hand in to drag the monster forth. +Bob therefore ran off for Tom Titus the blacksmith, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>[page 82]</span> +who was supposed to care for nothing, and in less +than two minutes Tom Titus arrived with about three +feet of rod-iron red hot.</p> + +<p>"Darng un!" cried Tom, "this ere 'll maake un +<i>quit</i> together!"</p> + +<p>"Dear me! my good man," said the gentleman in +black, "don't use that unchristian implement! don't +put the dumb thing to such horrible torture!"</p> + +<p>"It don't siggerfy a button," cried Tooler, "I +marn't go to stop here all day. Out he must come."</p> + +<p>Upon this Tom Titus introduced his professional +weapon, and commenced poking about with considerable +energy, while the snapping and growling +increased with each poke.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is," said Tom Titus, turning +round and wiping the sweat off his brow with his +naked arm, "this here cretur here's stark raavin' +mad."</p> + +<p>"I knew that he was," cried the gentleman in +black, getting into an empty wagon which stood +without horses just out of the road; "I felt perfectly +sure that he was rabid."</p> + +<p>"He 's a bull-terrier too," said Tom Titus, "I +knows it by 's growl. It 's the worsest and dargdest +to go maad as is."</p> + +<p>"Well, what shall us do wi' th' warment?" said +Tooler.</p> + +<p>"Shoot him! shoot him!" cried the gentleman in +black.</p> + +<p>"O, I 've goot a blunderbus, Bob!" said Tom +Titus, "yow run for 't together, it 's top o' the forge."</p> + +<p>Bob started at once, and Tom kept on the bar, +while Tooler, Sam, and Harry, and Bob held the +heads of the horses.</p> + +<p>"He 's got un; all right!" cried Tom Titus, as +Bob neared the coach with the weapon on his +shoulder. "Yow 'll be doon in noo time," he added +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>[page 83]</span> +as he felt with his rod to ascertain in which corner of +the boot the bull-terrier lay.</p> + +<p>"Is she loarded?" asked Bob, as he handed Tom +Titus the instrument of death.</p> + +<p>"Mind you make the shot come out at bottom," +shouted Tooler.</p> + +<p>"I hool," said Tom Titus, putting the weapon to +his shoulder. "Noo the Loord ha' marcy on yar, as +joodge says sizes," and instantly let fly.</p> + +<p>The horses of course plunged considerably, but +still did no mischief; and before the smoke had +evaporated, Valentine introduced into the boot a +low melancholy howl, which convinced Tom Titus +that the shot had taken effect.</p> + +<p>"He 's giv oop the ghost; darng his carkus!" +cried Tom, as he poked the dead body in the corner.</p> + +<p>"Well, let 's have a look at un," said Tooler, "let 's +see what the warment is like."</p> + +<p>The gentleman in black at once leaped out of the +wagon, and every one present drew near, when Tom, +guided by the rod which he had kept upon the body, +put his hand into the boot, and drew forth a fine hare +that had been shattered by the shot all to pieces.</p> + +<p>"He arn't a bull-terrier," cried Bob.</p> + +<p>"But that arn't he," said Tom Titus. "He 's +some'er aboot here as dead as a darng'd nail. I +know he 's a corpse."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure on 't?" asked Tooler.</p> + +<p>"There arn't any barn door deader," cried Tom. +"Here, I'll lug um out an' show yar."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" shouted Tooler, as Tom proceeded to +pull out the luggage. "I marn't stay for that. I 'm +an hour behind now, blarm un! jimp up, genelmen!"</p> + +<p>Tom Titus and his companions, who wanted the +bull-terrier as a trophy, entreated Tooler to allow +them to have it, and, having at length gained his +consent, Tom proceeded to empty the boot. Every eye +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>[page 84]</span> +was, of course, directed to everything drawn out, and +when Tom made a solemn declaration that the boot +was empty, they were all, at once, struck with amazement. +Each looked at the other with astounding +incredulity, and overhauled the luggage again and +again.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say," said Tooler, "that there +arn't nuffin else in the boot?"</p> + +<p>"Darnged a thing!" cried Tom Titus, "coom and +look." And Tooler did look, and the gentleman in +black looked, and Bob looked, and Harry looked, +and Bill looked, and Sam looked, and all looked, but +found the boot empty.</p> + +<p>"Well, blarm me!" cried Tooler. "But darng it +all, he must be somewhere!"</p> + +<p>"I' ll taake my solum davy," said Bill, "that he +<i>was</i> there."</p> + +<p>"I seed um myself," exclaimed Bob, "wi' my oarn +eyes, an' didn't loike the looks on um a bit."</p> + +<p>"There cannot," said the gentleman in black, "be +the smallest possible doubt about his having been +there; but the question for our mature consideration +is, where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"I 'll bet a pint," said Harry, "you blowed um +away?"</p> + +<p>"Blowed um away, you fool!—how could I ha' +blowed um away?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he <i>was</i> there," said Bob, "and he baint +there noo, and he baint here nayther, so you mus ha' +blowed um out o' th' boot; 'sides, look at the muzzle +o' this ere blunderbust!"</p> + +<p>"Well, of all the rummest goes as ever happened," +said Tooler, thrusting his hands to the very bottom +of his pockets, "this ere flogs 'em all into nuffin!"</p> + +<p>"It is perfectly astounding!" exclaimed the gentleman +in black, looking again into the boot, while +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>[page 85]</span> +the men stood and stared at each other with their +mouths as wide open as human mouths could be.</p> + +<p>"Well, in wi' 'em agin," cried Tooler, "in wi' +'em!—Blarm me if this here arn't a queer un to get +over."</p> + +<p>The luggage was accordingly replaced, and Tooler, +on mounting the box, told the men to get a gallon of +beer, when the gentleman in black generously gave +them half a crown, and the horses started off, leaving +Tom with his blunderbuss, Harry, Bill, Sam, and +their companions, bewildered with the mystery which +the whole day spent in the alehouse by no means +enabled them to solve.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page85a" id="page85a"></a> + +<h2>THERE'S BUT ONE PAIR OF STOCKINGS TO MEND TO-NIGHT.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> +Recite this in a simple unaffected manner; carefully avoiding +anything like <i>rant</i>. At times the voice should sink tremulously +low, as the good dame recalls memories of her departed +children: +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +A</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>N</b> old wife sat by her bright fireside,</p> +<p class="i6">Swaying thoughtfully to and fro,</p> +<p>In an ancient chair whose creaky frame</p> +<p class="i2">Told a tale of long ago;</p> +<p>While down by her side, on the kitchen floor,</p> +<p>Stood a basket of worsted balls—a score.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The old man dozed o'er the latest news,</p> +<p class="i2">Till the light of his pipe went out,</p> +<p>And, unheeded, the kitten, with cunning paws,</p> +<p class="i2">Rolled and tangled the balls about;</p> +<p>Yet still sat the wife in the ancient chair,</p> +<p>Swaying to and fro, in the firelight glare.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>[page 86]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But anon a misty tear-drop came</p> +<p class="i2">In her eye of faded blue,</p> +<p>Then trickled down in a furrow deep,</p> +<p class="i2">Like a single drop of dew;</p> +<p>So deep was the channel—so silent the stream—</p> +<p>The good man saw naught but the dimmed eye-beam.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet he marvelled much that the cheerful light</p> +<p class="i2">Of her eye had weary grown,</p> +<p>And marvelled he more at the tangled balls;</p> +<p class="i2">So he said in a gentle tone,</p> +<p>"I have shared thy joys since our marriage vow,</p> +<p>Conceal not from me thy sorrows now."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then she spoke of the time when the basket there</p> +<p class="i2">Was filled to the very brim,</p> +<p>And how there remained of the goodly pile</p> +<p class="i2">But a single pair—for him.</p> +<p>"Then wonder not at the dimmed eye-light,</p> +<p>There's but one pair of stockings to mend to-night.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"I cannot but think of the busy feet,</p> +<p class="i2">Whose wrappings were wont to lie</p> +<p>In the basket, awaiting the needle's time,</p> +<p class="i2">Now wandered so far away;</p> +<p>How the sprightly steps to a mother dear,</p> +<p>Unheeded fell on the careless ear.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"For each empty nook in the basket old,</p> +<p class="i2">By the hearth there's a vacant seat;</p> +<p>And I miss the shadows from off the wall,</p> +<p class="i2">And the patter of many feet;</p> +<p>'Tis for this that a tear gathered over my sight</p> +<p>At the one pair of stockings to mend to-night.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Twas said that far through the forest wild,</p> +<p class="i2">And over the mountains bold,</p> +<p>Was a land whose rivers and darkening caves</p> +<p class="i2">Were gemmed with the rarest gold;</p> +<p>Then my first-born turned from the oaken door,</p> +<p>And I knew the shadows were only four.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>[page 87]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Another went forth on the foaming waves</p> +<p class="i2">And diminished the basket's store—</p> +<p>But his feet grew cold—so weary and cold—</p> +<p class="i2">They'll never be warm any more—</p> +<p>And this nook in its emptiness, seemeth to me</p> +<p>To give forth no voice but the moan of the sea.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Two others have gone towards the setting sun,</p> +<p class="i2">And made them a home in its light,</p> +<p>And fairy fingers have taken their share</p> +<p class="i2">To mend by the fireside bright;</p> +<p>Some other baskets their garments fill—</p> +<p>But mine! Oh, mine is emptier still.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Another—the dearest—the fairest—the best—</p> +<p class="i2">Was ta'en by the angels away,</p> +<p>And clad in a garment that waxeth not old,</p> +<p class="i2">In a land of continual day.</p> +<p>Oh! wonder no more at the dimmed eye-light,</p> +<p>While I mend the one pair of stockings to-night."</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page87a" id="page87a"></a> + +<h2>A LOVE OF A BONNET</h2> + +<h4>(FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY.)</h4> + + +<h4>CHARACTERS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. Clipper</span>, a Widow.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Kitty</span>, her Daughter.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Aunt Jemima Hopkins</span>, a leetle inquisitive.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. Hortensia Fastone</span>, very genteel.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Dora</span>, her Daughter.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Katy Doolan</span>, Irish Help.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Scene.</span>—<i>Room in</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. Clipper's</span> <i>House. Lounge</i>, +<span class="sc">L.</span>; <i>Chairs</i>, <span class="sc">C.</span>; <i>Table and Rocking-chair, +Looking-glass</i>, +<span class="sc">R.</span></p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>[page 88]</span> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. Clipper</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Kitty, r.</span></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> But really, Kitty, I cannot afford it.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> O, yes, you can, mother; just this once. +It's such a love of a bonnet! it's so becoming! and +it only costs fifteen dollars.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Fifteen dollars! Why, child, you are +crazy! We cannot afford to be so extravagant. +The income derived from the property your dear +father left will only allow us to dress in the most +economical manner.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> But this bonnet is not extravagant. Dora +Fastone wears a bonnet which cost twenty-five-dollars, +and her father has failed five or six times. I +don't see why I can't have a new bonnet as well as +that proud, stuck-up—</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Hush, my child! never speak ill of our +neighbors because they dress better than we do. If +they spend money foolishly, we should endeavor to use +ours to better purpose. I am sure I should be glad +to gratify you, but we have so many expenses. Your +music lessons cost a great deal of money; and your +brother Harry, off at school, is really suffering for a +new suit of clothes. I must send him some money +to-day.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> O, he can wait; he's only a boy; and no +one cares how he looks; but young ladies must dress, +or they are thought nothing of. O, you must let me +have the bonnet, mamma!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> If you have this bonnet, Kitty, Harry +must go without his new suit.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> If you could just see it! It's such a love +of a bonnet! Do let me run down and ask Miss +Thompson to send it up for you to look at.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> I've no objection to that; and if you +think you need it more than Harry does his new +suit, why—</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>[page 89]</span> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> You'll let me have it. That's a good, +dear mother. I know you wouldn't refuse. I'll run +to Miss Thompson's. I won't be gone long. I +suppose I am selfish; but then, mother, it's such a +love of a bonnet. <span style="float: right; margin-top: -1em;">[<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span></span></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> (<i>Sits in a rocking-chair.</i>) Dear child, it +is hard to refuse her! But one should be made of +money to keep up with the extravagant fashions of +the day.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Aunt Hopkins, r.</span></p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Angelina, what on airth have them air +Joneses got for dinner? I've sot and sot at that air +front winder till I've got a crick in my back a tryin' +to find out whether it's lamb or mutton. It's something +roasted, anyhow.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Aunt Hopkins, you are very inquisitive!</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Inquisitive! Law sakes, do hear the +child talk! Neow, what harm kin there be in tryin' +to find eout what your neighbors have got for dinner? +I mean to put on my bunnet and run acrost and see. +I know they've got apple dumplin's, for I see the +hired gal throw the parin's out into the yard.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Run across! Don't dream of such a +thing!</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Well, I'm goin' up stairs to git my +specs and have another good look, anyhow; for I'm +jest dyin' to know whether it's lamb or mutton. +Land sakes! what's the use of livin', ef you can't +know how other folks live? <span style="float: right; margin-top: -1em;">[<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">R.</span></span></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Aunt Hopkins!—She's gone! Dear +me, she does worry me terribly! What will our +neighbors think of us?</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Katy Doolan, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> If you plase, mam, may I coome in?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>[page 90]</span> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Certainly, Katy. What's the matter?</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> If you plase, mam, I have a letther; and +would you plase rade it for me?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> (<i>Takes letter.</i>) Certainly, Katy. From +your lover?</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Indeed, mam, I have no lover. It's my +cousin, mam.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> O, your cousin. (<i>Opens letter.</i>) + "Light ov my sowl!" Why, this cannot be your +cousin.</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Indade, indade, it be, sure! It's only the +insinivatin' way he has, mam!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> (<i>Reads.</i>)</p> +<blockquote style="font-size: 1.0em; margin-top: -2em;"><p>"Bewitchin' Katy! and how +are ye's onyhow? I take my pin in hand to till ye's I +am yurs, in good hilth and sphirits; and it's hopin' +ye's the same, truly! The pulsitations uv my heart +are batin' wid the love I bears ye's, darlin' Katy! +the fairest flower—niver mind the blot—that iver +bloomed an the family tree uv Phil Doolan uv +Tipperary, dead and gone this siven years, bliss his +sowl,—and how are ye's? An' by the same token +that I loves ye's much, I sind by the ixpriss, freight +paid, a new bunnit, which my cousin Biddy Ryan, for +my dear love, have made for ye's charmin' Katy +Doolan! Wear it nixt ye's heart! And if ye git it +before this letther coomes to hand, ye's may know it +is from</p> + +<div class="poem" style="margin-top: -1em;"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Your ever sighin',</p> +<p>Wid love for ye's dyin',</p> +<p class="i12"><span class="sc">Cornalius Ryan</span>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>P.S. If ye's don't resave this letther, sind me +word uv mouth by the man who fetches the bunnit."</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> That's a very loving epistle.</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Pistol, it is? Faith, I thought it was a +letther.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>[page 91]</span> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> And so it is; and a very loving one! +Your <i>cousin</i> has sent you a new bonnet.</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Is it in the letther, mam!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> It is coming by express.</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Sure, he might sind it in the letther, and +save expinse. What will I do?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Wait patiently until the bonnet arrives.</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Will Cornalius coome wid it?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> I think not. The expressman will bring +it.</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Sure, I don't want the ixpressman. It's +Cornalius I want.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> This cousin of yours seems very affectionate. +Are you going to marry him some day?</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Some day?—yis, mam. He tould me, +Would I? and I axed him, Yes. What will I do +with the letther, mam?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Keep it with your treasures. It should +be precious to you.</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Faith, thin I'll put it in the savings bank +with my money. I'm obliged, to ye's Mrs. Clipper, +mam. If you plase, what was that last in the +letther?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i></p> +<blockquote style="font-size: 1.0em; margin-top: -2em;"> + +<p>"Your ever sighin',</p> +<p style="margin-top: -1em;">Wid love for ye's dyin',</p> +<p style="margin-top: -1em;">Cornalius Ryan."</p> + </blockquote> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> O, don't, ma'am! Ye's make me blush +wid the shame I fail. Och! it's a quare darlin', wid +all his sighin', is Cornalius Ryan! Och, musha! it's +an illigant lad he is, onyhow! +<span style="float: right; margin-top: -1em;">[<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span></span></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> So we are to have another new bonnet in +the family! Well, Katy is a good girl, and I hope +will get a good husband, as well as a new bonnet.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 2em;"><span style="float: right; margin-top: -1em;">[<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Aunt Hopkins, r.</span>, <i>with a bandbox.</i></p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>[page 92]</span> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> It's mutton! I was determined to find +eout, and I have! I saw that air Jones boy a playin' +in the street, and I asked him what his folks had got +for dinner, and he said mutton, and neow I'm +satisfied on that air p'int. I wonder what's in this +'ere bandbox! I saw that express cart stop here, +and the man said it was for Miss Kitty somebody; +of course, Angelina's darter. I do wonder what it +is! (<i>Opens box.</i>) Well I declare! A spic span new +bunnet! (<i>Takes out a very large, gaudily-trimmed +bonnet.</i>) And sich a bunnet! Ribbons and lace, +flowers and feathers! Now that's jest what I call a +tasty bunnet! I mean to try it on. It'll jest suit my +complexion. Law sakes! here comes Kitty! +'Twon't do to let her know I've been at her things! +(<i>Puts bonnet back into box, and places it behind the +table.</i>)</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Kitty, L.</span></p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> O, aunt Hopkins! Where's mother?</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Land sakes! I don't know no more +than the child unborn!</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Dear me! Here are Mrs. Fastone and +Dora coming up the steps! What shall I do?</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Why, let 'em in, of course!</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Has my new bonnet come yet?</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Indeed it has! And sich a beauty!</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> O, I'm so glad! But where is it?</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Down there behind the table. I hain't +teched it; only jest took a peep.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> I'll let Miss Dora see that some people +can dress as well as some other people. Aunt +Hopkins, you must manage to draw attention to my +new bonnet while the visitors are here, to give me an +opportunity to show it.</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Why, I'll take it right eout the fust +hing.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>[page 93]</span> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> No, no! that would be too abrupt. +Manage to speak of bonnets; but do not show it +until they ask to see it.</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Well, I guess I know heow to do it +genteelly.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Katy, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Two ladies to see you, miss. (<i>Crosses +to</i> <span class="sc">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Where's mother, Katy?</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Gone to the butcher's, miss. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="sc">R.</span></p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Butcher's? Wal, I do hope she'll git +some mutton, for the Joneses has it; and we ought +to be as genteel as our neighbours.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. Fastone</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Dora, l.</span>, <i>very +elegantly +attired</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> My dear child, how do you do?</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> (<i>Shaking hands with her, and afterwards +with</i> <span class="sc">Dora</span>.) I'm delighted to see you! Hope +you are quite well, and Dora.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> Quite well—aren't you, Dora?</p> + +<p><i>Dora.</i> Quite, mamma.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Pray be seated, ladies. (<i>They sit on +lounge.</i>) Mrs. Hopkins, Mrs. Fastone.</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> (<i>Steps over and shakes hands.</i>) Hope +you are pretty well, ma'am, and you, too, miss, +though you do look awful delicate! And how's your +husband? He's a broker—ain't he? (<i>Sits in +rocking-chair, and keeps it in motion.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> Yes, Mrs. Hopkins, Mr. Fastone is +a broker, engaged day after day in the busy vortex +of fluctuating enterprises.</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Well, I never hearn tell of that business +afore; but I s'pose it's profitable, or you couldn't +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>[page 94]</span> +afford to dress so. Is that a silk or a poplin you've +got on?</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> (<i>Brings her chair; sits</i>, <span class="sc">C.</span>) Aunt Hopkins!—Mother +has stepped out to make a call.</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> No, she hain't; she's only gone to +the butcher's.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Aunt Hopkins!—Mrs. Fastone, what is the +news?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> Well, really nothing. I am dying of +<i>ennui</i>, the world is so quiet; no excitement to move +the placid waters of fashionable society—is there, +Dora?</p> + +<p><i>Dora.</i> Nothing, mamma.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> Nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing +to wear,—is there, Dora?</p> + +<p><i>Dora.</i> Nothing, mamma.</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Nothing to wear! Yes, there's +bunnets.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Aunt Hopkins!—Mrs. Fastone, you are +quite correct.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> Mrs. Hopkins spoke of bonnets. I +have been so disappointed! Thompson had a +perfect love of a bonnet that I had quite set my +heart upon for Dora; but it is gone, and the poor +child is almost broken-hearted—ain't you, Dora?</p> + +<p><i>Dora.</i> Quite, mamma.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> I am very sorry, for bonnets are so hard +to find. I have been very much perplexed about +them myself. They are so very commonplace; no +air of refinement about them.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> None, whatever—is there, Dora?</p> + +<p><i>Dora.</i> None, mamma.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> I've just had a new one sent home, but it +doesn't suit me.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>[page 95]</span> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Why, Kitty, how you talk! It's a +regular beauty!</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Aunt Hopkins!—It is not what I wanted, +but Thompson said it was the most stylish she had.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> Thompson! Did you get it of Thompson?</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Yes, all my bonnets come from Thompson.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> Do let me see it!</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> (<i>Jumps up.</i>) I'll show it to you right +off. It's an eligunt bunnet. (<i>Gets bandbox.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Aunt Hopkins!</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Neow don't aunt Hopkins me! for I'm +going to show 'em jest how it looks on yer; set still; +for if there's anything I pride myself on, it's showin' +off a bunnet. (<i>Stands behind</i> <span class="sc">Kitty</span>, <i>puts the bonnet +on her head, and ties it.</i>) There! ain't that a +beauty?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> Why! what a hor—a handsome bonnet! +Did you ever see anything like it, Dora?</p> + +<p><i>Dora.</i> Never, mamma!</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> That's the style, marm.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> Really! I want to know! And this +is Thompson's most stylish bonnet! Really, +how the fashions do change! Did you ever, Dora!</p> + +<p><i>Dora.</i> Never, mamma!</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> (<i>Aside.</i>) I do believe they are laughing! +Aunt Hopkins, I cannot get it off! You've tied +it in a hard knot!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> It's very becoming—isn't it, Dora?</p> + +<p><i>Dora.</i> O, very, mamma.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> (<i>Aside to</i> <span class="sc">Dora</span>.) —What a horrid +fright!</p> + +<p><i>Dora.</i> Frightful, mamma!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. F.</i> I believe we must be moving, for I must +hurry to Thompson's and order just such a bonnet +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>[page 96]</span> +for Dora. Good day. You have such a charming +taste—hasn't she, Dora?</p> + +<p><i>Dora.</i> Charming, mamma! (<i>They bow, and +exeunt</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span>, <i>with their handkerchiefs to their mouths, +endeavouring to conceal their laughter.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Good day. Call again.—The hateful +things! They are laughing at me. What ails this +bonnet. (<i>Goes to glass.</i>) Goodness gracious; what +a fright! This is not my bonnet. Aunt Hopkins, +you've ruined me! I shall be the laughing-stock +of the whole neighbourhood. (<i>Tears off the bonnet.</i>)</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. Clipper, r.</span></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Have the Fastones gone?</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> I hope so. O, mother, send aunt +Hopkins home; she's made me look ridiculous!</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Well, I declare! this comes of trying +to please folks!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Is <i>that</i> your love of a bonnet, Kitty?</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> No, indeed! Aunt Hopkins, where did +you get this hateful thing?</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Out of that bandbox.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> (<i>Takes up the cover.</i>) It's marked "Miss +Katy Doolan." You've made a pretty mess of it!</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Sakes alive! It's the hired gal's! +Well, I never!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> But where's the bonnet you sent from +Thompson's?</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> (<i>Outside.</i>) O, murder! that iver I should +say this day!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Katy, r.</span>, (<i>holding in her hand an elegant +bonnet.</i>)</p> + +<p>The mane, stingy blackgurd has sint me this +whisp of a bunnet, that I'll niver git on my head at +all at all!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>[page 97]</span> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> That's my bonnet!</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Is it, indade? and perhaps ye's be afther +claiming the letther Cornalius Ryan sint wid it.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> No, no, Katy; there's a little mistake +here. This is your bonnet.</p> + +<p><i>Katy.</i> Faith, now, isn't that a darling, jist! I'll +wear it to church to-morrow, sure.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> Put it on now, Katy; and then take this +wisp of a bonnet, as you call it, to Miss Thompson, +with my best compliments and tell her I have +decided not to keep it.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Why, Kitty, I thought your heart was +set upon having it.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> So it was, mother; but I shall never dare +to wear it, after the ridiculous appearance I have +just made. It's too fine for me. My conscience +gave me a little twinge as I was coming home. +Send Harry the money for his new suit. My +old bonnet is quite good enough for me.</p> + +<p><i>Aunt H.</i> Neow that's what I call a self-denyin' +gal. I'll fix it up for you; for if there's anything +I pride myself on doin', it's fixing up old bunnets.</p> + +<p><i>Kitty.</i> And trying on new ones! No, I thank +you, aunt Hopkins. Hereafter I'll look after my +bonnets myself. I think our acquaintance with +Mrs. Fastone will be broken off by this adventure; +and so I will make a merit of necessity, abandon +fashionable society, and be more humble in my +demeanor and in my dress.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.</i> Ah, my child, you will be better satisfied +with your decision, as you grow older, and see +how frivolous are the demands of fashion, and how +little happiness can be obtained by lavish display. +And I think this little adventure, though a severe +lesson, will be far more profitable than the +possession of that "love of a bonnet."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>[page 98]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page98a" id="page98a"></a> + +<h2>DRAFTED.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>MRS. H. L. BOSTWICK.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +The opening stanzas of this poem should be recited in an +agitated, broken voice, as though the fond mother could not +fully realize the fact of her boy being drafted:—in the end the +voice changes to a firmer and gentler tone, as a spirit of resignation +fills the mother's heart: +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +M</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>Y</b> son! What! Drafted? My Harry! Why, man, 'tis a boy at his books;</p> +<p class="i6">No taller, I'm sure, than your Annie—as delicate, too, in his looks.</p> +<p>Why, it seems but a day since he helped me girl-like, in my kitchen at tasks;</p> +<p>He drafted! Great God, can it be that our President knows what he asks?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He never could wrestle, this boy, though in spirit as brave as the best;</p> +<p>Narrow-chested, a little, you notice, like him who has long been at rest.</p> +<p>Too slender for over much study—why, his master has made him to-day</p> +<p>Go out with his ball on the common—and you have drafted a child at his play!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Not a patriot?" Fie! Did I wimper when Robert stood up with his gun,</p> +<p>And the hero-blood chafed in his forehead, the evening we heard of Bull Run?</p> +<p>Pointing his finger at Harry, but turning his eyes to the wall,</p> +<p>"There's a staff growing up for your age, mother," said Robert, "if I am to fall."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Eighteen?" Oh I know! And yet narrowly; just a wee babe on the day</p> +<p>When his father got up from a sick-bed and cast his last ballot for Clay.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>[page 99]</span> +<p>Proud of his boy and his ticket, said he, "A new morsel of fame</p> +<p>We'll lay on the candidate's altar"—and christened the child with his name.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, what have I done, a weak woman, in what have I meddled with harm,</p> +<p>(Troubling only my God for the sunshine and rain on my rough little farm,)</p> +<p>That my ploughshares are beaten to swords, and whetted before my eyes,</p> +<p>That my tears must cleanse a foul nation, my lamb be a sacrifice?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, 'tis true there's a country to save, man, and 'tis true there is no appeal,</p> +<p>But did God see my boy's name lying the uppermost one in the wheel?</p> +<p>Five stalwart sons has my neighbour, and never the lot upon one;</p> +<p>Are these things Fortune's caprices, or is it God's will that is done?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Are the others too precious for resting where Robert is taking his rest,</p> +<p>With the pictured face of young Annie lying over the rent in his breast?</p> +<p>Too tender for parting with sweet hearts? Too fair to be crippled or scarred?</p> +<p>My boy! Thank God for these tears—I was growing so bitter and hard!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">* * + * * * + * * + *</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now read me a page in the Book, Harry, that goes in your knapsack to-night,</p> +<p>Of the eye that sees when the sparrow grows weary and falters in flight;</p> +<p>Talk of something that's nobler than living, of a Love that is higher than mine,</p> +<p>And faith which has planted its banner where the heavenly camp-fires shine.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>[page 100]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Talk of something that watches us softly, as the shadows glide down in the yard;</p> +<p>That shall go with my soldier to battle, and stand with my picket on guard.</p> +<p>Spirits of loving and lost ones—watch softly with Harry to-night,</p> +<p>For to-morrow he goes forth to battle—to arm him for Freedom and Right!</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page100a" id="page100a"></a> + +<h2>AN ERUPTION OF MOUNT VESUVIUS.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>BULWER.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +The following magnificent description of perhaps the most +awful phenomenon in nature, gives full scope for almost every +tone and gesture. Care should, however, be taken that the +natural grandeur of the subject be not marred by a stilted, +pompous, or affected delivery. Let the speaker try to realize the +thought and feelings of a spectator of the dark scene of desolation, +and he cannot go amiss: +</p></blockquote> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">T</span> +<b>HE</b> eyes of the crowd beheld, with ineffable dismay, +a vast vapour shooting from the summit of +Vesuvius, in the form of a gigantic pine-tree; the +trunk, blackness; the branches, fire, that shifted +and wavered in its hues with every moment: now +fiercely luminous, now of a dull and dying red, that +again blazed terrifically forth with intolerable glare.</p> + +<p>Then there arose on high the universal shrieks of +women; the men stared at each other, but were +dumb. At that moment they felt the earth shake +beneath their feet; the walls of the theatre trembled; +and beyond, in the distance, they heard the crash of +falling roofs. An instant more, and the mountain-cloud +seemed to roll toward them, dark and rapid +like a torrent; at the same time it cast forth from its +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>[page 101]</span> +bosom a shower of ashes, mixed with fragments of +burning stone! Over the crushing vines, over the +desolate streets, over the amphitheatre itself,—far +and wide,—with many a mighty splash in the agitated +sea, fell that awful shower!</p> + +<p>The cloud advanced, darker, disgorging showers +of ashes and pumice stones; and, amid the other +horrors, the mighty mountain now cast up columns of +boiling water. Blent and kneaded with the half-burning +ashes, the streams fell like seething mud +over the streets, in frequent intervals.</p> + +<p>The cloud, which had scattered so deep a murkiness +over the day, at length settled into a solid and +impenetrable mass. But in proportion as the blackness +gathered did the lightnings around Vesuvius +increase in their vivid and scorching glare.</p> + +<p>Nor was their horrible beauty confined to their hues +of fire. Now brightly blue, as the most azure depth +of a southern sky; now of a livid and snake-like +green, darting restlessly <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'too'">to</ins> +and fro, as the folds of +an enormous serpent; now of a lurid and intolerable +crimson, gushing forth through the columns of smoke +far and wide, and lighting up all Pompeii; then suddenly +dying into a sickly paleness, like the ghost of +its own life!</p> + +<p>In the pauses of the showers were heard the +rumbling of the earth beneath, and the groaning +waves of the tortured sea; or, lower still, and audible +but to the watch of intensest fear, the grinding and +hissing murmur of the escaping gases through the +chasms of the distant mountain.</p> + +<p>The ashes, in many places, were already knee-deep; +and in some places immense fragments of +rock, hurled upon the house-roofs, bore down along +the streets masses of confused ruin, which yet more +and more, with every hour, obstructed the way; and, +as the day advanced, the motion of the earth was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>[page 102]</span> +more sensibly felt; the footing seemed to slide and +creep, nor could chariot or litter be kept steady, even +on the most level ground.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the huger stones, striking against each +other as they fell, broke into countless fragments, +emitting sparks of fire, which caught whatever was +combustible within their reach; and along the plains +beyond the city the darkness was now terribly relieved, +for several houses and even vineyards had been +set on flames; and at various intervals the fire rose +fiercely and sullenly against the solid gloom. The +citizens had endeavoured to place rows of torches in +the most frequented spots; but these rarely continued +long; the showers and the wind extinguished them.</p> + +<p>Suddenly arose an intense and lurid glow. Bright +and gigantic through the darkness which closed +around it, the mountain shone, a pile of fire! Its +summit seemed riven in two; or rather, above its surface, +there seemed to rise two monster-shapes, each +confronting each, as demons contending for a world. +These were of one deep blood-red hue of fire, which +lighted up the whole atmosphere; but below, the +nether part of the mountain was still dark and +shrouded, save in three places, adown which flowed +serpentine, and irregular rivers of molten lava. +Darkly red through the profound gloom of their +banks, they flowed slowly on, as towards the devoted +city. And through the still air was heard the rattling +of the fragments of rock, hurling one upon another, +as they were borne down the fiery cataracts, darkening +for one instant the spot where they fell, and +suffused the next in the burnished hues of the flood +along which they floated!</p> + +<p>Suddenly a duller shade fell over the air; and one +of the two gigantic crests into which the summit had +been divided, rocked and waved to and fro; and +then, with a sound, the mightiness of which no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>[page 103]</span> +language can describe, it fell from its burning base, +and rushed, an avalanche of fire, down the sides of +the mountain. At the same instant gushed forth a +volume of blackest smoke, rolling on, over air, sea +and earth. Another, and another, and another +shower of ashes, far more profuse than before, scattered +fresh desolation along the streets, and darkness +once more wrapped them as a veil.</p> + +<p>The whole elements of civilization were broken up. +If in the darkness, wife was separated from husband, +or parent from child, vain was the hope of reunion. +Each hurried blindly and confusedly on. Nothing +was left save the law of self-preservation.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page103a" id="page103a"></a> + +<h2>A PLEA FOR THE OX.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>DUGANNE.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +This <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'beautitul'">beautiful</ins> poem should be recited with a calm, even +devout dignity; occasionally rising into energetic expression as +the poet apostrophizes the Deity in behalf of the down-trodden: +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +O</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>F</b> all my Father's herds and flocks,</p> +<p class="i6">I love the Ox—the large-eyed Ox!</p> +<p>I think no Christian man would wrong</p> +<p>The Ox—so patient, calm, and strong!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>How huge his strength! and yet, with flowers</p> +<p>A child can lead this Ox of ours;</p> +<p>And yoke his ponderous neck, with cords</p> +<p>Made only of the gentlest words.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>By fruitful Nile the Ox was Lord;</p> +<p>By Jordan's stream his blood was poured;</p> +<p>In every age—with every clan—</p> +<p>He loves, he serves, he dies for <span class="sc">Man</span>!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>[page 104]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And, through the long, long years of God,</p> +<p>Since labouring <span class="sc">Adam</span> delved the sod,</p> +<p>I hear no human voice that mocks</p> +<p>The <i>hue</i> which God hath given His Ox!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>While burdening toils bow down his back,</p> +<p>Who asks if he be <i>white</i> or <i>black?</i></p> +<p>And when his generous blood is shed,</p> +<p>Who shall deny its common <i>red?</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ye shall not muzzle"—God hath sworn—</p> +<p>"The Ox, that treadeth out the corn!"</p> +<p>I think no Christian law ordains</p> +<p>That <i>Ox</i> or <i>Man</i> should toil in chains.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So, haply, for an Ox I pray.</p> +<p>That kneels and toils for us this day;</p> +<p>A huge, calm, patient, large-eyed Ox,</p> +<p>Black-skinned, among our herds and flocks.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So long, O righteous Lord! so long</p> +<p>Bowed down, and yet so brave and strong—</p> +<p>I think no Christian, just and true,</p> +<p>Can spurn this poor Ox for his <i>hue!</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I know not why he shall not toil,</p> +<p>Black-skinned, upon our broad, free soil;</p> +<p>And lift aloft his dusky frame,</p> +<p>Unbranded by a bondman's name!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And struggling still, for nobler goal,</p> +<p>With wakening will and soaring soul,</p> +<p>I know not why his great free strength</p> +<p>May not be our best wealth at length:</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>That strength which, in the limbs of <i>slaves</i>—</p> +<p>Like Egypt's—only piles up graves!</p> +<p>But in the hands of <i>freemen</i> now</p> +<p>May build up states, by axe and plough!—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And rear up souls, as purely white</p> +<p>As angels, clothed with heavenly light;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>[page 105]</span> +<p>And yield forth life-blood, richly red</p> +<p>As patriot hearts have ever shed.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>God help us! we are veiled within—</p> +<p>Or white or black—with shrouds of skin;</p> +<p>And, at the last, we all shall crave</p> +<p>Small difference in the breadth of grave!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But—when the grass grows, green and calm,</p> +<p>And smells above our dust, like balm—</p> +<p>I think our rest will sweeter be,</p> +<p>If over us the Ox be—<i>free!</i></p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page105a" id="page105a"></a> + +<h2>HERE SHE GOES, AND THERE SHE GOES.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>JAMES NACK.</b></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>WO</b> Yankee wags, one summer day,</p> +<p class="i4">Stopped at a tavern on their way,</p> +<p>Supped, frolicked, late retired to rest,</p> +<p>And woke, to breakfast on the best.</p> +<p>The breakfast over, Tom and Will</p> +<p>Sent for the landlord and the bill;</p> +<p>Will looked it over:—"Very right—</p> +<p>But hold! what wonder meets my sight?</p> +<p>Tom! the surprise is quite a shock!"</p> +<p>"What wonder? where?" "The clock, the clock!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Tom and the landlord in amaze</p> +<p>Stared at the clock with stupid gaze,</p> +<p>And for a moment neither spoke;</p> +<p>At last the landlord silence broke,—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"You mean the clock that's ticking there?</p> +<p>I see no wonder, I declare!</p> +<p>Though maybe, if the truth were told,</p> +<p>'Tis rather ugly, somewhat old;</p> +<p>Yet time it keeps to half a minute;</p> +<p>But, if you please, what wonder in it?"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>[page 106]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Tom, don't you recollect," said Will,</p> +<p>"The clock at Jersey, near the mill,</p> +<p>The very image of this present,</p> +<p>With which I won the wager pleasant?"</p> +<p>Will ended with a knowing wink;</p> +<p>Tom scratched his head and tried to think.</p> +<p class="i2">"Sir, begging your pardon for inquiring,"</p> +<p>The landlord said with grin admiring,</p> +<p class="i2">"What wager was it?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"> "You remember</p> +<p>It happened, Tom, in last December:</p> +<p>In sport I bet a Jersey Blue</p> +<p>That it was more than he could do</p> +<p>To make his finger go and come</p> +<p>In keeping with the pendulum,</p> +<p>Repeating, till the hour should close,</p> +<p>Still—'<i>Here she goes, and there she goes.</i>'</p> +<p>He lost the bet in half a minute."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Well, if I would, the deuce is in it!"</p> +<p>Exclaimed the landlord; "try me yet,</p> +<p>And fifty dollars to be bet."</p> +<p class="i2">"Agreed, but we will play some trick,</p> +<p>To make you of the bargain sick!"</p> +<p class="i2">"I'm up to that!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"> "Don't make us wait,—</p> +<p>Begin,—the clock is striking eight."</p> +<p>He seats himself, and left and right</p> +<p>His finger wags with all its might,</p> +<p>And hoarse his voice and hoarser grows,</p> +<p>With—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Hold!" said the Yankee, "plank the ready!"</p> +<p>The landlord wagged his finger steady,</p> +<p>While his left hand, as well as able,</p> +<p>Conveyed a purse upon the table,</p> +<p>"Tom! with the money let's be off!"</p> +<p>This made the landlord only scoff.</p> +<p>He heard them running down the stair,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>[page 107]</span> +<p>But was not tempted from his chair;</p> +<p>Thought he, "The fools! I'll bite them yet!</p> +<p>So poor a trick sha'n't win the bet."</p> +<p>And loud and long the chorus rose</p> +<p>Of—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"</p> +<p>While right and left his finger swung,</p> +<p>In keeping to his clock and tongue.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>His mother happened in to see</p> +<p>Her daughter: "Where is Mrs. B——?"</p> +<p class="i2">"When will she come, do you suppose?"</p> +<p>Son!—"</p> +<p class="i4">"Here she goes, and there she goes!"</p> +<p>"Here!—where?"—the lady in surprise</p> +<p>His finger followed with her eyes;</p> +<p>"Son! why that steady gaze and sad?</p> +<p>Those words,—that motion,—are you mad?</p> +<p>But here's your wife, perhaps she knows,</p> +<p>And—"</p> +<p class="i4">"Here she goes, and there she goes!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>His wife surveyed him with alarm,</p> +<p>And rushed to him and seized his arm;</p> +<p>He shook her off, and to and fro</p> +<p>His finger persevered to go,</p> +<p>While curled his very nose with ire</p> +<p>That <i>she</i> against him should conspire;</p> +<p>And with more furious tone arose</p> +<p>The—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Lawks!" screamed the wife, "I'm in a whirl!</p> +<p>Run down and bring the little girl;</p> +<p>She is his darling, and who knows</p> +<p>But—"</p> +<p class="i4">"Here she goes, and there she goes!"</p> +<p>"Lawks! he is mad! What made him thus?</p> +<p>Good Lord! what will become of us?</p> +<p>Run for a doctor,—run, run, run,—</p> +<p>For Doctor Brown and Doctor Dun,</p> +<p>And Doctor Black and Doctor White,</p> +<p>And Doctor Grey with all your might!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>[page 108]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The doctors came, and looked, and wondered,</p> +<p>And shook their heads, and paused and pondered.</p> +<p>Then one proposed he should be bled,—</p> +<p class="i2">"No, leeched you mean," the other said,—</p> +<p class="i2">"Clap on a blister!" roared another,—</p> +<p class="i2">"No! cup him,"—"No! trepan him, brother."</p> +<p>A sixth would recommend a purge,</p> +<p>The next would an emetic urge;</p> +<p>The eighth, just come from a dissection,</p> +<p>His verdict gave for an injection.</p> +<p>The last produced a box of pills,</p> +<p>A certain cure for earthly ills:</p> +<p>"I had a patient yesternight,"</p> +<p>Quoth he, "and wretched was her plight,</p> +<p>And as the only means to save her,</p> +<p>Three dozen patent pills I gave her;</p> +<p>And by to-morrow I suppose</p> +<p>That—"</p> +<p class="i4">"Here she goes, and there she goes!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"You are all fools!" the lady said,—</p> +<p>"The way is, just to shave his head.</p> +<p>Run! bid the barber come anon."</p> +<p>"Thanks, mother!" thought her clever son;</p> +<p>"You help the knaves that would have bit me,</p> +<p>But all creation sha'n't outwit me!"</p> +<p>Thus to himself, while to and fro</p> +<p>His fingers perseveres to go,</p> +<p>And from his lips no accent flows</p> +<p>But—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"</p> +<p>The barber came—"Lord help him! what</p> +<p>A queerish customer I've got;</p> +<p>But we must do our best to save him,—</p> +<p>So hold him, gemmen, while I shave him!"</p> +<p>But here the doctors interpose,—</p> +<p class="i2">"A woman never—"</p> +<p class="i16"> "There she goes!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"A woman is no judge of physic,</p> +<p>No even when her baby is sick.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>[page 109]</span> +<p>He must be bled,"—"No, no, a blister,"—</p> +<p>"A purge, you mean,"—"I say a clyster,"—</p> +<p>"No, cup him,"—"Leech him,"—"Pills! pills! pills!"</p> +<p>And all the house the uproar fills.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>What means that smile? what means that shiver?</p> +<p>The landlord's limbs with rapture quiver,</p> +<p>And triumph brightens up his face,</p> +<p>His finger yet shall win the race;</p> +<p>The clock is on the stroke of nine,</p> +<p>And up he starts,—"'Tis mine! 'tis mine!"</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"> "I mean the fifty;</p> +<p>I never spent an hour so thrifty.</p> +<p>But you who tried to make me lose,</p> +<p>Go, burst with envy, if you choose!</p> +<p>But how is this? where are they?"</p> +<p class="i16"> "Who?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"The gentlemen,—I mean the two</p> +<p>Came yesterday,—are they below?"</p> +<p class="i2">"They galloped off an hour ago."</p> +<p class="i2">"O, purge me! blister! shave and bleed!</p> +<p>For, hang the knaves, I'm mad indeed!"</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page109a" id="page109a"></a> + +<h2>DAVID AND GOLIATH.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> +Goliath gives vent to his arrogance in a bombastic style. +This should be borne in mind by the speaker. David, on the +other hand, expresses himself with modesty, but in a tone of +confident courage: +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Goliath.</i> Where is the mighty man of war, who dares</p> +<p>Accept the challenge of Philistia's chief?</p> +<p>What victor-king, what general drenched in blood,</p> +<p>Claims this high privilege? What are his rights?</p> +<p>What proud credentials does the boaster bring</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>[page 110]</span> +<p>To prove his claim? What cities laid in ashes,</p> +<p>What ruined provinces, what slaughtered realms,</p> +<p>What heads of heroes, or what hearts of kings,</p> +<p>In battle killed, or at his altars slain,</p> +<p>Has he to boast? Is his bright armory</p> +<p>Thick set with spears, and swords, and coats of mail,</p> +<p>Of vanquished nations, by his single arm</p> +<p>Subdued? Where is the mortal man so bold,</p> +<p>So much a wretch, so out of love with life,</p> +<p>To dare the weight of this uplifted spear?</p> +<p class="i16"> Come, advance!</p> +<p>Philistia's gods to Israel's. Sound, my herald,</p> +<p>Sound for the battle straight!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>David.</i> Behold thy foe.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Gol.</i> I see him not.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Dav.</i> Behold him here.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Gol.</i> Say, where?</p> +<p>Direct my sight. I do not war with boys.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Dav.</i> I stand prepared; thy single arm to mine.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Gol.</i> Why, this is mockery, minion; it may chance</p> +<p>To cost thee dear. Sport not with things above thee:</p> +<p>But tell me who, of all this numerous host,</p> +<p>Expects his death from me? Which is the man</p> +<p>Whom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Dav.</i> The election of my sovereign falls on me.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Gol.</i> On thee! on thee! by Dagon, 'tis too much!</p> +<p>Thou curled minion! thou a nation's champion!</p> +<p>'Twould move my mirth at any other time;</p> +<p>But trifling's out of tune. Begone, light boy!</p> +<p>And tempt me not too far.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Dav.</i> I do defy thee,</p> +<p>Thou foul idolator! Hast thou not scorned</p> +<p>The armies of the living God I serve!</p> +<p>By me he will avenge upon thy head</p> +<p>Thy nation's sins and thine. Armed with his name,</p> +<p>Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest foe</p> +<p>That ever bathed his hostile spear in blood.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Gol.</i> Indeed! 'tis wondrous well! Now, by my gods!</p> +<p>The stripling plays the orator! Vain boy!</p> +<p>Keep close to that same bloodless war of words,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>[page 111]</span> +<p>And thou shalt still be safe. Tongue-valiant warrior!</p> +<p>Where is thy sylvan crook, with garlands hung,</p> +<p>Of idle field-flowers? Where thy wanton harp,</p> +<p>Thou dainty-fingered hero?</p> +<p class="i20"> Now will I meet thee,</p> +<p>Thou insect warrior; since thou dar'st me thus,</p> +<p>Already I behold thy mangled limbs,</p> +<p>Dissevered each from each, ere long to feed</p> +<p>The fierce, blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well,</p> +<p>Around my spear I'll twist thy shining locks</p> +<p>And toss in air thy head all gashed with wounds.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Dav.</i> Ha, say'st thou so? Come on, then; Mark us well.</p> +<p>Thou com'st to me with sword and spear, and shield;</p> +<p>In the dread name of Israel's God, I come;</p> +<p>The living Lord of Hosts, whom thou defi'st;</p> +<p>Yet though no shield I bring; no arms, except</p> +<p>These five smooth stones I gathered from the brook</p> +<p>With such a simple sling as shepherds use;</p> +<p>Yet all exposed, defenceless as I am,</p> +<p>The God I serve shall give thee up a prey</p> +<p>To my victorious arm. This day, I mean</p> +<p>To make the uncircumcised tribes confess</p> +<p>There is a God in Israel. I will give thee,</p> +<p>Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk,</p> +<p>To glut the carrion-kites. Nor thee alone;</p> +<p>The mangled carcasses of your thick hosts</p> +<p>Shall spread the plains of Elah; till Philistia,</p> +<p>Through all her trembling tents and flying bands,</p> +<p>Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed!</p> +<p>I dare thee to the trial!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Gol.</i> Follow me.</p> +<p>In this good spear I trust.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Dav.</i> I trust in Heaven!</p> +<p>The God of battles stimulates my arm,</p> +<p>And fires my soul with ardor not its own.</p> + </div> </div> + +<blockquote><p> +In this dialogue, the first speech of Goliath is simple vaunt. Confident +in his <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'hugh'">huge</ins> bulk and strength, he strides occasionally from side to side while +speaking, elevating his arms and throwing his limbs about as if anxious +to display his powerful sinews and muscular proportions. He speaks very +loud, as if willing to terrify all Israel with his voice.</p> + +<p>In this second speech, Goliath partly stoops, half shuts his eyes like a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>[page 112]</span> +person endeavouring to discern some diminutive object, and, after looking +intently a short time, suddenly straightens himself up to his full height, +and says arrogantly: "I see him not."</p> + +<p>In his third speech, Goliath maintains the same ground, till, in the +conclusion, he seems, at last, to have perceived David, and, turning away +contemptuously, adds: "I do not war with boys."</p> + +<p>In the latter part of the dialogue, Goliath becomes really furious, and is +in haste to transfix David with his spear; while David, on the other hand, +becomes more calm, collected, and observant as the critical moment +approaches, thus denoting his firm and unwavering trust in the God of +Israel. David makes but few gestures, but always assumes a reverential +attitude when he mentions the name of God—not puritanical by any +means, but expressive of humble hope and smiling confidence. +</p></blockquote> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page112a" id="page112a"></a> + +<h2>THE WIDOW BEDOTT'S POETRY.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>FRANCES M. WHITCHER.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">Y</span> +<b>ES</b>,—he was one o' the best men that ever trod +shoe-leather, husband was, though Miss Jinkins +says (she 't was Poll Bingham), <i>she</i> says, I never +found it out till after he died, but that 's the consarndest +lie, that ever was told, though it 's jest a piece +with everything else she says about me. I guess if +everybody could see the poitry I writ to his memory, +nobody wouldn 't think I dident set store by him. +Want to hear it? Well, I 'll see if I can say it; it +ginerally affects me wonderfully, seems to harrer up +my feelin's; but I'll try. Dident know I ever writ +poitry? How you talk! used to make lots on 't; +hain't so much late years. I remember once when +Parson Potter had a bee, I sent him an amazin' +great cheese, and writ a piece o' poitry, and pasted +on top on 't. It says:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Teach him for to proclaim</p> +<p class="i2">Salvation to the folks;</p> +<p>No occasion give for any blame,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor wicked people's jokes.</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>[page 113]</span> +<p>And so it goes on, but I guess I won't stop to say the +rest on now, seein' there's seven and forty verses.</p> + +<p>Parson Potter and his wife was wonderfully pleased +with it; used to sing it to the tune o' Haddem. But +I was gwine to tell the one I made in relation to +husband; it begins as follers:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>He never jawed in all his life,</p> +<p class="i2">He never was unkind,—</p> +<p>And (tho' I say it that was his wife)</p> +<p class="i2">Such men you seldom find.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>(That's as true as the Scripturs; I never knowed +him to say a harsh word.)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I never changed my single lot,—</p> +<p class="i2">I thought 't would be a sin—</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>(though widder Jinkins says it's because I never had +a chance.) Now 't ain't for me to say whether I ever +had a numerous number o' chances or not, but +there 's them livin' that <i>might</i> tell if they wos a mind +to; why, this poitry was writ on account of being +joked about Major Coon, three year after husband +died. I guess the ginerality o' folks knows what was +the nature o' Major Coon's feelin's towards me, tho' +his wife and Miss Jinkins <i>does</i> say I tried to ketch +him. The fact is, Miss Coon feels wonderfully cut +up 'cause she knows the Major took her "Jack at a +pinch,"—seein' he couldent get such as he wanted, +he took such as he could get,—but I goes on to +say—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I never changed my single lot,</p> +<p class="i2">I thought 't would be a sin,—</p> +<p>For I thought so much o' Deacon Bedott,</p> +<p class="i2">I never got married agin.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>If ever a hasty word he spoke,</p> +<p class="i2">His anger dident last,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>[page 114]</span> +<p>But vanished like tobacker smoke</p> +<p class="i2">Afore the wintry blast.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And since it was my lot to be</p> +<p class="i2">The wife of such a man,</p> +<p>Tell the men that's after me</p> +<p class="i2">To ketch me if they can.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>If I was sick a single jot,</p> +<p class="i2">He called the doctor in—</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>That's a fact,—he used to be scairt to death if +anything ailed me. Now only jest think,—widder +Jinkins told Sam Pendergrasses wife (she 'twas Sally +Smith) that she guessed the deacon dident set no +great store by me, or he wouldent a went off to confrence +meetin' when I was down with the fever. The +truth is, they couldent git along without him no way. +Parson Potter seldom went to confrence meetin', and +when he wa' n't there, who was ther, pray tell, that +knowed enough to take the lead if husband dident do +it? Deacon Kenipe hadent no gift, and Deacon +Crosby hadent no inclination, and so it all come on +Deacon Bedott,—and he was always ready and +willin' to do his duty, you know; as long as he was +able to stand on his legs he continued to go to confrence +meetin'; why, I've knowed that man to go +when he couldent scarcely crawl on account o' the +pain in the spine of his back. He had a wonderful +gift, and he wa' n't a man to keep his talents hid up +in a napkin,—so you see 't was from a sense o' duty +he went when I was sick, whatever Miss Jinkins may +say to the contrary. But where was I? Oh!—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>If I was sick a single jot,</p> +<p class="i2">He called the doctor in—</p> +<p>I sot so much by Deacon Bedott</p> +<p class="i2">I never got married agin.</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>[page 115]</span> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>A wonderful tender heart he had,</p> +<p class="i2">That felt for all mankind,—</p> +<p>It made him feel amazin bad</p> +<p class="i2">To see the world so blind.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Whiskey and rum he tasted not—</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>That's as true as the Scripturs,—but if you'll believe +it, Betsy Ann Kenipe told my Melissy that Miss +Jinkins said one day to their house, how 't she 'd seen +Deacon Bedott high, time and agin! did you ever! +Well, I'm glad nobody don't pretend to mind +anything <i>she</i> says. I've knowed Poll Bingham from +a gall, and she never knowed how to speak the truth—besides +she always had a pertikkler spite against +husband and me, and between us tew I 'll tell you +why if you won't mention it, for I make it a pint +never to say nothin' to injure nobody. Well she was +a ravin'-distracted after my husband herself, but it's +a long story. I 'll tell you about it some other time, +and then you'll know why widder Jinkins is etarnally +runnin' me down. See,—where had I got to? Oh, I +remember now,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Whiskey and rum he tasted not,—</p> +<p class="i2">He thought it was a sin,—</p> +<p>I thought so much o' Deacon Bedott</p> +<p class="i2">I never got married agin.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But now he's dead! the thought is killin',</p> +<p class="i2">My grief I can't control—</p> +<p>He never left a single shillin'</p> +<p class="i2">His widder to console.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>But that wa' n't his fault—he was so out o' health for +a number o' year afore he died, it ain't to be wondered +at he dident lay up nothin'—however, it dident +give him no great oneasiness,—he never cared much +for airthly riches, though Miss Pendergrass says she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>[page 116]</span> +heard Miss Jinkins say Deacon Bedott was as tight +as the skin on his back,—begrudged folks their +vittals when they came to his house! did you ever! +why, he was the hull-souldest man I ever see in all +my born days. If I'd such a husband as Bill Jinkins +was, I'd hold my tongue about my neighbors' +husbands. He was a dretful mean man, used to git +drunk every day of his life, and he had an awful high +temper,—used to swear like all posset when he got +mad,—and I've heard my husband say, (and he +wa' n't a man that ever said anything that wa' n't +true),—I've heard <i>him</i> say Bill Jinkins would cheat +his own father out of his eye teeth if he had a chance. +Where was I? Oh! "His widder to console,"—ther +ain't but one more verse, 't ain't a very lengthy +poim. When Parson Potter read it, he says to me, +says he,—What did you stop so soon for?"—but +Miss Jinkins told the Crosbys <i>she</i> thought I'd better +a' stopt afore I 'd begun,—she 's a purty critter to +talk so, I must say. I 'd like to see some poitry o' +hern,—I guess it would be astonishin' stuff; and +mor'n all that, she said there wa' n't a word o' truth +in the hull on 't,—said I never cared two cents for the +deacon. What an everlastin' lie!! Why, when he +died, I took it so hard I went deranged, and took on +so for a spell, they was afraid they should have to +send me to a Lunattic Arsenal. But that's a painful +subject, I won't dwell on 't. I conclude as follers:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I'll never change my single lot,—</p> +<p class="i2">I think 't would be a sin,—</p> +<p>The inconsolable widder o' Deacon Bedott</p> +<p class="i2">Don't intend to get married agin.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Excuse me cryin'—my feelin's always overcomes me +so when I say that poitry—O-o-o-o-o-o!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>[page 117]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page117a" id="page117a"></a> + +<h2>THE TWO WEAVERS.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>HANNAH MORE.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +This piece should be spoken in a simple, unaffected conversational +manner; still it admits of much quiet emphasis, and subdued +irony: +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +A</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>S</b> at their work two weavers sat,</p> +<p class="i6">Beguiling time with friendly chat,</p> +<p>They touched upon the price of meat,</p> +<p>So high, a weaver scarce could eat.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"What with my brats and sickly wife,"</p> +<p>Quoth Dick, "I'm almost tired of life;</p> +<p>So hard my work, so poor my fare,</p> +<p>'Tis more than mortal man can bear.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"How glorious is the rich man's state</p> +<p>His house so fine, his wealth so great!</p> +<p>Heaven is unjust, you must agree;</p> +<p>Why all to him? Why none to me?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"In spite of what the Scripture teaches</p> +<p>In spite of all the parson preaches,</p> +<p>This world (indeed I've thought so long)</p> +<p>Is ruled methinks extremely wrong.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Where'er I look, howe'er I range,</p> +<p>'Tis all confused and hard and strange;</p> +<p>The good are troubled and oppressed,</p> +<p>And all the wicked are the blest."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Quoth John, "Our ignorance is the cause</p> +<p>Why thus we blame our Maker's laws;</p> +<p><i>Parts of his ways</i> alone we know;</p> +<p>'Tis all that man can see below.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"See'st thou that carpet, not half done,</p> +<p>Which thou, dear Dick, hast well begun?</p> +<p>Behold the wild confusion there,</p> +<p>So rude the mass it makes one stare!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>[page 118]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"A stranger, ignorant of the trade,</p> +<p>Would say, no meaning's there conveyed;</p> +<p>For where's the middle? where's the border?</p> +<p>Thy carpet now is all disorder."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Quoth Dick, "My work is yet in bits,</p> +<p>But still in every part it fits;</p> +<p>Besides, you reason like a lout—</p> +<p>Why, man, that <i>carpet's inside out</i>."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Says John, "Thou say'st the thing I mean,</p> +<p>And now I hope to cure thy spleen;</p> +<p>This world, which clouds thy soul with doubt</p> +<p><i>Is but a carpet inside out</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"As when we view these shreds and ends,</p> +<p>We know not what the whole intends;</p> +<p>So, when on earth things look but odd,</p> +<p>They're working still some scheme of God.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"No plan, no pattern, can we trace;</p> +<p>All wants proportion, truth, and grace</p> +<p>The motley mixture we deride,</p> +<p>Nor see the beauteous upper side.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"But when we reach that world of light,</p> +<p>And view those works of God aright,</p> +<p>Then shall we see the whole design,</p> +<p>And own the workman is divine.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"What now seem random strokes, will there</p> +<p>All order and design appear;</p> +<p>Then shall we praise what here we spurned,</p> +<p>For then the <i>carpet shall be turned</i>."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Thou'rt right," quoth Dick; "no more I'll grumble</p> +<p>That this sad world's so strange a jumble;</p> +<p>My impious doubts are put to flight,</p> +<p>For my own carpet sets me right."</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>[page 119]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page119a" id="page119a"></a> + +<h2>MISS MALONEY ON THE CHINESE QUESTION.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>MARY MAPES DODGE.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">O</span> +<b>CH!</b> don't be talkin'. Is it howld on, ye say? +An' did n't I howld on till the heart o' me was +clane broke entirely, and me wastin' that thin you +could clutch me wid yer two hands? To think o' +me toilin' like a nager for the six year I 've been in +Ameriky,—bad luck to the day I iver left the owld +counthry! to be bate by the likes o' them (faix an' +I'll sit down when I 'm ready, so I will, Aunt Ryan, +an' yed better be listnin' than drawin' yer remarks)! +an' is it mysel, with five good characters from +respectable places, would be herdin' wid the +haythens? The saints forgive me, but I 'd be buried +alive sooner 'n put up wid it a day longer. Sure an' I +was the granehorn not to be lavin' at onct when the +missus kim into me kitchen wid her perlaver about +the new waiter man which was brought out from +Californy.</p> + +<p>"He 'll be here the night," says she, "and, Kitty, +it 's meself looks to you to be kind and patient wid +him, for he 's a furriner," says she, a kind o' lookin' +off.</p> + +<p>"Sure an it 's little I 'll hinder nor interfare wid him +nor any other, mum," says I, a kind o' stiff, for I +minded me how these French waiters, wid their paper +collars and brass rings on their fingers, isn 't company +for no gurril brought up dacint and honest.</p> + +<p>Och! sorra a bit I knew what was comin' till the +missus walked into me kitchen smilin', and says +kind o' shcared: "Here 's Fing Wing, Kitty, an' +you 'll have too much sinse to mind his bein' a little +strange."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>[page 120]</span> + +<p>Wid that she shoots the door, and I, misthrusting +if I was tidied up sufficient for me fine buy wid his +paper collar, looks up, and—Howly fathers! may I +niver brathe another breath, but there stud a rale +haythen Chineser a grinnin' like he'd just come off a +tay-box. If you'll belave me, the crayture was that +yeller it ud sicken you to see him; and sorra stitch +was on him but a black nightgown over his trousers, +and the front of his head shaved claner nor a copper +biler, and a black tail a-hangin' down from behind, +wid his two feet stook into the heathenestest shoes +you ever set eyes on.</p> + +<p>Och! but I was up stairs afore you could turn +about, a givin' the missus warnin', an' only stopt wid +her by her raisin' me wages two dollars, and playdin' +wid me how it was a Christian's duty to bear wid +haythins and taitch 'em all in our power,—the saints +have us!</p> + +<p>Well, the ways and trials I had wid that Chineser, +Ann Ryan, I couldn't be tellin'. Not a blissed +thing cud I do but he'd be lookin' on wid his eyes +cocked up'ard like two poomp-handles, an' he +widdout a speck or smitch o' whiskers on him, an' +his finger-nails full a yard long. But it 's dyin' you'd +be to see the missus a' larnin' him, and he grinnin' +an' waggin' his pig-tail (which was pieced out long +wid some black stoof, the haythen chate), and gettin' +into her ways wonderful quick, I don't deny, imitatin' +that sharp you'd be shurprised, and ketchin' an' +copyin' things the best of us will do a-hurried wid +work, yet don't want comin' to the knowledge of the +family,—bad luck to him!</p> + +<p>Is it ate wid him? Arrah, an' would I be sittin' +wid a haythen an' he a-atin' wid drum-sticks,—yes, +an' atin' dogs an' cats unknownst to me, I warrant +you, which it is the custom of them Chinesers, till the +thought made me that sick I could die. An' did n't +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>[page 121]</span> +the crayture proffer to help me a wake ago come +Toosday, an' me a foldin' down me clane clothes for +the ironin', an' fill his haythin mouth wid water, an' +afore I could hinder squirrit it through his teeth stret +over the best linen table-cloth, and fold it up tight, +as innercent now as a baby, the dirrity baste! But +the worrest of all was the copyin' he'd be doin' till +ye'd be dishtracted. It's yersel' knows the tinder feet +that's on me since ever I 've bin in this counthry. +Well, owin' to that, I fell into a way o' slippin' me +shoes off when I 'd be settin' down to pale the praities +or the likes o' that, and, do ye mind! that haythin +would do the same thing after me whiniver the +missus set him to parin' apples or tomaterses. The +saints in heaven could n't have made him belave he +cud kape the shoes on him when he'd be palin' +anything.</p> + +<p>Did I lave for that? Faix an' I did n't. Did n't +he get me into trouble wid my missus, the haythin? +You're aware yersel' how the boondles comin' in from +the grocery often contains more 'n 'll go into anything +dacently. So, for that matter, I'd now and then take +out a sup o' sugar, or flour, or tay, an' wrap it in +paper and put it in me bit of a box tucked under the +ironin' blankit the how it cuddent be bodderin' any +one. Well, what shud it be, but this blessed Sathurday +morn the missus wos a spakin' pleasant and +respec'ful wid me in me kitchen when the grocer boy +comes in an' stands fornenst her wid his boondles, +an' she motions like to Fing Wing (which I never +would call him by that name ner any other but just +haythin), she motions to him, she does, for to take +the boondles an' empty out the sugar an' what not, +where they belongs. If you'll belave me, Ann Ryan, +what did that blatherin' Chineser do but take out a +sup o' sugar, an' a handful o' tay, an' a bit o' chaze +right afore the missus, wrap them into bits o' paper, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>[page 122]</span> +an' I spacheless wid shurprise, an' he the next +minute up wid the ironin' blankit and pullin' out me +box wid a show o' bein' sly to put them in.</p> + +<p>Och, the Lord forgive me, but I clutched it, and +missus sayin', "O Kitty!" in a way that 'ud cruddle +your blood.</p> + +<p>"He 's a haythin nager," says I.</p> + +<p>"I 've found you out," says she.</p> + +<p>"I 'll arrist him," says I.</p> + +<p>"It 's you ought to be arristed," says she.</p> + +<p>"You won't," says I.</p> + +<p>"I will," says she; and so it went till she give me +such sass as I cuddent take from no lady,—an' I give +her warnin' an' left that instant, an' she a-pointin' to +the doore.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page122a" id="page122a"></a> + +<h2>THE BIG OYSTER.</h2> + + +<h4>A LEGEND OF RARITAN BAY.</h4> + +<p class="indright">GEORGE ARNOLD.</p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +<span style="font-weight: normal">'</span>T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>WAS</b> a hazy, mazy, lazy day,</p> +<p class="i6">And the good smack <i>Emily</i> idly lay</p> +<p>Off Staten Island, in Raritan Bay,</p> +<p class="i2">With her canvas loosely flapping,</p> +<p>The sunshine slept on the briny deep,</p> +<p>Nor wave nor zephyr could vigils keep,</p> +<p>The oysterman lay on the deck asleep,</p> +<p class="i2">And even the cap'n was napping.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The smack went drifting down the tide,—</p> +<p>The waters gurgling along her side,—</p> +<p>Down where the bay glows vast and wide,—</p> +<p class="i2">A beautiful sheet of water;</p> +<p>With scarce a ripple about her prow,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>[page 123]</span> +<p>The oyster-smack floated, silent and slow,</p> +<p>With Keyport far on her starboard bow,</p> +<p class="i2">And South Amboy on her quarter.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But, all at once, a grating sound</p> +<p>Made the cap'n awake and glance around;</p> +<p>"Hold hard!" cried he, "we've run aground,</p> +<p class="i2">As sure as all tarnation!"</p> +<p>The men jumped up, and grumbled and swore;</p> +<p>They also looked, and plainly saw</p> +<p>That the <i>Emily</i> lay two miles from shore,</p> +<p class="i2">At the smallest calculation.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then, gazing over the side, to see</p> +<p>What kind of a bottom this shoal might be,</p> +<p>They saw, in the shadow that lay to the lee,</p> +<p class="i2">A sight that filled them with horror!</p> +<p>The water was clear, and beneath it, there,</p> +<p>An oyster lay in its slimy lair,</p> +<p>So big, that to tell its dimensions fair</p> +<p class="i2">Would take from now till to-morrow.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And this it was made the grating sound;</p> +<p>On this the <i>Emily</i> ran aground;</p> +<p>And this was the shoal the cap'n found,—</p> +<p class="i2">Alack! the more is the pity.</p> +<p>For straight an idea entered his head:</p> +<p>He'd drag it out of its watery bed,</p> +<p>And give it a resting-place, instead,</p> +<p class="i2">In some saloon in the city.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So, with crow, and lever, and gaff, and sling,</p> +<p>And tongs, and tackle, and roller, and ring,</p> +<p>They made a mighty effort to bring</p> +<p class="i2">This hermit out of his cloister.</p> +<p>They labored earnestly, day and night,</p> +<p>Working by torch and lantern light,</p> +<p>Till they had to acknowledge that, do what they might,</p> +<p class="i2">They never could budge the oyster!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>[page 124]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The cap'n fretted, and fumed, and fussed,—</p> +<p>He swore he'd "have that 'yster, or bust!"</p> +<p>But, for all his oaths, he was quite nonplussed;</p> +<p class="i2">So by way of variation,</p> +<p>He sat him quietly down, for a while,</p> +<p>To cool his anger and settle his bile,</p> +<p>And to give himself up, in his usual style,</p> +<p class="i2">To a season of meditation.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now, the cap'n was quite a wonderful man;</p> +<p>He could do almost anything any man can,</p> +<p>And a good deal more, when he once began</p> +<p class="i2">To act from a clear deduction.</p> +<p>But his wonderful power,—his greatest pride,—</p> +<p>The feat that shadowed all else beside,—</p> +<p>The talent on which he most relied,—</p> +<p class="i2">Was his awful power of suction!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At suction he never had known defeat!</p> +<p>The stoutest suckers had given in, beat,</p> +<p>When he sucked up a quart of apple-jack, neat,</p> +<p class="i2">By touching his lips to the measure!</p> +<p>He'd suck an oyster out of its shell,</p> +<p>Suck shrimps or lobsters equally well;</p> +<p>Suck cider till inward the barrel-heads fell,—</p> +<p class="i2">And seemed to find it a pleasure.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Well, after thinking a day or two,</p> +<p>This doughty sucker imagined he knew</p> +<p>About the best thing he could possibly do,</p> +<p class="i2">To secure the bivalvular hermit.</p> +<p>"I'll bore through his shell, as they bore for coal,</p> +<p>With an auger fixed on the end of a pole,</p> +<p>And then, through a tube, I'll suck him out whole,—</p> +<p class="i2">A neat little swallow, I term it!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The very next day, he returned to the place</p> +<p>Where his failure had thrown him into disgrace;</p> +<p>And there, with a ghastly grin on his face,</p> +<p class="i2">Began his submarine boring.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>[page 125]</span> +<p>He worked for a week, for the shell was tough,</p> +<p>But reached the interior soon enough</p> +<p>For the oyster, who found such surgery rough,—</p> +<p class="i2">Such grating, and scraping, and scoring!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The shell-fish started, the water flew,</p> +<p>The cap'n turned decidedly blue,</p> +<p>But thrust his auger still further through,</p> +<p class="i2">To quiet the wounded creature.</p> +<p>Alas! I fear my tale grows sad,</p> +<p>The oyster naturally felt quite bad</p> +<p class="i2">In spite of its peaceful nature.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It arose, and, turning itself on edge,</p> +<p>Exposed a ponderous shelly wedge,</p> +<p>All covered with slime, and sea-weed, and sedge,—</p> +<p class="i2">A conchological wonder!</p> +<p>This wedge flew open, as quick as a flash,</p> +<p>Into two great jaws, with a mighty splash</p> +<p>One scraunching, crunching, crackling crash,—</p> +<p class="i2">And the smack was gone to thunder.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page125a" id="page125a"></a> + +<h2>A PRECIOUS PICKLE.</h2> + +<h4>(FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY.)</h4> + + +<h4>CHARACTERS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Miss Rebecca Pease.</span></p> +<p style="margin-bottom: -0.5em"><span class="sc">Mrs. Gabble.</span></p> +<table summary="pupils" style="border-collapse: collapse;"> +<tr> + <td><br style="line-height: 65%" /><span class="sc">Jenny Frost</span>,<br /> + <span class="sc">Bessy Snow</span>,<br /> + <span class="sc">Sadie Bean</span>, + + </td> + <td><span style="font-size: 3.5em;">}</span></td> + <td>City girls on a vacation<br /> + in the country.</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><span class="sc">Sissy Gabble.</span></p> +<p><span class="sc">Juno</span>, Miss <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Peace's'">Pease's</ins> coloured help.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center1"><span class="outdent1"><span class="sc">Scene.</span></span>—<span class="sc">Miss Pease's</span> <i>best room</i>. <i>Table</i>, <span class="sc">c.</span>, +<i>back</i>. + <i>Chairs</i>, <span class="sc">r.</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">l.</span> <i>Rocking-chair</i>, <span class="sc">c.</span> <i>Chair directly in front of the table</i>.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>[page 126]</span> + +<p class="center1"><span class="outdent1"><i>Enter</i></span>, <span class="sc">l., Juno;</span> <i>costume, calico dress, handkerchief +about her head in shape of a turban, broom in +her hand.</i></p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Bress my soul! Nebber see, in de whole +co'se ob my life, sich a galloping set as dem are +city gals—nebber! For all de worl', jes like a flock +ob sheep. Shoo! away dey go, from de cellar to +de top ob de house—pell-mell inter de barn. +Skipterty shoo, ober de fields; skersplash into de +brook; don't keer for nuffin nor nobody. Can't +keep de chairs straight, nor de flo' clean nor nuffin. +(<i>Looks off</i>, <span class="sc">R.</span>) Now, now, now, jes look a dar! +jes look a dar! See 'em scootin' round, chasin' dat +are poor orphanless calf, what ain't got no mudder. +Never did see nuffin like it, nebber. (<i>Sweeps +violently.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> (<i>Outside</i>, <span class="sc">R.</span>) Ha, ha, ha! If you don't +stop, girls, I shall die.</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> (<i>Outside</i>, <span class="sc">R.</span>) Ha, ha, ha! O, dear, +there goes my hat!</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> (<i>Outside</i>, <span class="sc">R.</span>) Ha, ha, ha! Do see him +jump!</p> +<p class="indright"> +[<i>All three enter</i>, <span class="sc">R</span>, <i>laughing.</i></p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> O, isn't this splendid! A country life +for me.</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> It's glorious! I could live here forever.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> So could I. No more city life for me.</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Bres'">Bress</ins> my +soul! Goin' fur to stay here +forebber! I'll jes' pack up my jewelry, and slope, +for sartin'.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Ah, there's Juno. O, Juno, isn't it most +dinner-time? I'm so hungry!</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> So am I—ravenous.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> I'm starving; slowly, but surely, starving.</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Dinner! Why, bress my soul! yer hain't +got yer breakfast digesticated yet. Well, I nebber, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>[page 127]</span> +in de whole co'se ob my life, seed sich eaters—nebber. +Six biscuit, four b'iled eggs apiece, and +chicken; chicken by de dozen for dar breakfast; +and now want dar dinner! Bress my +soul! Doesn't yer git nuffin to eat in de city?</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> O, yes, plenty; but not such biscuits +as Juno makes.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny and Bessie.</i> Never, never!</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> And eggs, girls! None cooked as Juno +cooks them.</p> + +<p><i>Bessie and Sadie.</i> Never, never!</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> And chickens! never so nice as those +broiled by Juno.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny and Sadie.</i> Never, never!</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Doesn't yers, honies? (<i>Grinning.</i>) +Dat's mean; dat's raal mean. Well, poor dears, +I s'pose yers is hungry. Now you jes' wait and see +what Juno can find for a lunch.</p> + +<p class="indright">[<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span></p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> "A little <i>flattery</i>, now and then, is +relished by the wisest men."</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> And the darkest of our sex, Jenny.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> Yes; and "a <i>soft</i> answer turneth away +wrath." O, ain't we having a splendid time, girls?</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> How kind of our parents, after eight +months' hard study, to send us to this delightful +place!</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> O, it's splendid. We want nothing here.</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> No, indeed. There's nothing left in that +dry, hot city to be regretted.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Stop. There is one thing I <i>should</i> like.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie and Bessie.</i> What is that?</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> One of mother's pickles.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie and Bessie.</i> What! a pickle?</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Yes. I'm dying for one of mother's sour, +peppery pickles.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> O, don't, Jenny. Do you want to make +me homesick?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>[page 128]</span> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> My mouth puckers at the thought. I +want to go home.</p> + +<p class="center1"><span class="outdent1"><i>Enter</i>, <span class="sc">R.</span></span>, <span class="sc">Sissy Gabble</span>, <i>a very small girl, with a +very large cape bonnet on her head, and a tin pail +in her hand.</i></p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> If yer pleath, Mith Peath, if, if—Mith +Peath, if you pleath—</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Why, who in the world is this?</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> What do you want, little girl?</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> Mith Peath, if you pleath, if, if—Mith +Peath, to home, my mother thed—my mother thed. +What did my mother thed? O, my mother thed, if +Mith Peath is to home, to give Mith Peath her com—her +com—to give Mith Peath her com—</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Her compliments?</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> Yith ma'am, I geth tho; and tell Mith +Peath, the thent her thome of her pickleth.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie and Bessie.</i> Pickles! O, you dear little +thing!</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> O, isn't she a darling! (<i>They all crowd +round</i> <span class="sc">Sissy</span>, <i>take off her bonnet, kiss and hug her.</i>) + Isn't she splendid?</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> I'll take the pail, little girl.</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> (<i>Putting pail behind her.</i>) Yith marm; +I geth not. My mother thed I muthn't give it to +nobody but Mith Peath.</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> Well, take off the cover, little girl. The +pickles will spoil.</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> I geth not. <i>My</i> mother's pickleth <i>never</i> +thpoil.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> The little plague! Say, Sissy; do you +like candy?</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> Candy? Merlatheth candy?</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Yes.</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> Ith it pulled?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>[page 129]</span> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Yes, indeed; pulled white as snow. +Give me the pail, and I'll find you a long stick of +it.</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> You ain't Mith Peath; and I don't like +merlatheth candy white ath thnow. Where ith +Mith Peath?</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> Little girl, don't you want some red and +white peppermints?</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> No, I don't. I want Mith Peath.</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> Or some splendid gum drops?</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> No. I want Mith Peath.</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Miss Pease, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> And here she is, Sissy Gabble. What +have you for me? (<i>The girls fall back in confusion, +and whisper together.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> Thome pickleth, Mith Peath, my mother +thent you, with her com—her com—her com—</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Her compliments, Sissy. I understand. +I'm very much obliged to her for sending them, and +to you, Sissy, for bringing them so carefully. Here, +Juno!</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i>, <span class="sc">Juno, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Yes, missis. Why, bress my soul! if +dar ain't Sissy Gabble! Come right here, yer dear +chile.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Take her to the kitchen, Juno. +Perhaps you can find a cake for her.</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Guess I can, missis, sure for sartin. +Come, Sissy Gabble, come right along wid Juno.</p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> Thay, Juno, who ith them? (<i>Pointing to +girls.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Why, bress yer soul, dem ar's de young +ladies from de city, on dar vex—vex—on dar +vexation. O, Sissy, dar drefful sweet.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>[page 130]</span> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> Thweet, Juno? I thpothe tho; they've +got thuch loth of candy. But they didn't git my +pail, tho!</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Come along to de kitchen. Come.</p> + +<p class="indright">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="sc">Juno</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Sissy, l.</span> <i>The girls +gather about</i> <span class="sc">Miss Pease</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> O, Miss Pease, I'm so glad Mrs. Gabble +sent you those pickles, I'm so fond of them!</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> Yes, Miss Pease; they're so nice!</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> O, they're splendid! Do give us a taste.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Stop, stop young ladies. While I +cannot but be grateful to Mrs. Gabble for her +kindness, I wish it had taken some other shape. I +have long been of the opinion that pickles are +unwholesome, and have never allowed them to be +placed upon my table. And I am sure I should be +disobeying the instructions I received from your +parents—to provide you only wholesome food—did +I permit you to taste them. For the present, I shall +leave them here. (<i>Places pail on the table.</i>) If +you believe I have your interest at heart, you will +not touch that which I have condemned. I know +I can trust you.</p> +<p class="indright"><i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span></p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> Well, I declare! The mean old thing!</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> It's too bad! Nothing but blasted hopes +in this world!</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> Well, I don't care, I'm a going to have +one of those pickles, if I die for it.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Why, Sadie Bean, you don't mean it!</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> Yes, I do. I know they <i>are</i> wholesome, +and my mother always allows me to eat them.</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> I wouldn't touch one for the world. How +impolite it would be, after Miss Pease has forbidden +it!</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> No; she didn't forbid it. She said, if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>[page 131]</span> +we thought she had our interest at heart, we +wouldn't touch the pail. Now I don't believe she +has, when she wants to deprive us of such a luxury. +I'm determined to have a pickle.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> You are wrong, Sadie, to think of such a +thing. A Precious Pickle you'll make. (<i>Sits on +sofa.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> Nothing would tempt me. (<i>Sits on +sofa.</i>) How can you, Sadie?</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> Pooh! Cowards! It's just as easy as +croquet, when you make up your mind. (<i>Lifts +cover, and takes out pickle.</i>) A Precious Pickle. +I'll taste, Jenny. Ain't they beauties?</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Quick, quick, Sadie; somebody's coming!</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> Dear me! (<i>Claps on cover, runs and +sits on sofa between</i> <span class="sc">Jenny</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Bessie</span>.)</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Juno, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Bress my soul! dars Missis Gabble a +runnin up de walk like all possessed. Speck her +house afire, sure for sartin.</p> +<p class="indright"><i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">R.</span></p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> (<i>Tasting pickle.</i>) O, ain't it nice! +Bessie, run and get one.</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> No, indeed; I shall do no such thing.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> O, Sadie, I wouldn't believe you could +do such a thing.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> O, pshaw! It's all envy; you know +it is.</p> + +<p class="center1"><span class="outdent1"><i>Enter</i></span> <span class="sc">R.</span>, <span class="sc">Juno</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. +Gabble</span>, <i>who +wears a calico dress, has her sleeves rolled up, her +apron thrown over her head, and has altogether +the appearance of having just left the wash-tub.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> Yes, Juno, poor Mr. Brown has +shuffled off this mortal—what's it's name? (<i>Looks</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>[page 132]</span> +<i>at girls.</i>) O, how do you do? I don't know how +much he's worth, but they do say—Why, Juno, +you've got a new calico—Fine day, young ladies.—They +do say—Well, there, I oughtn't to speak of +it. Got your washing out, Juno? I've been all +day at that tub; and—Where's Miss Pease? I +can't stop a minute; so don't ask me to sit down. + (<i>Sits in rocking-chair and rocks violently.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Yes, Missy Gabble, Missy Pease to home. +Send her right up, sure for sartin. Bress my soul, +how that woman do go on, for sartin.</p> +<p class="indright"><i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> Ah, poor Mrs. Brown, with all them +young ones. I wonder where my Sis is.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> I think she's in the kitchen, Mrs. +Gabble.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> You don't say so? Stuffing herself, +I'm sure. And poor Mr. Brown lying dead in the +next house—and there's my washing waiting for +soap—and there's Mrs. Jones hasn't sent my +ironing-board home; and mercy knows how I'm +to get along without it.</p> + +<p class="center1"><span class="outdent1"><i>Enter</i></span> <span class="sc">Miss Pease, l.</span> <i>During the dialogue between</i> +<span class="sc">Miss Pease</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. G., Sadie</span> <i>slyly eats +her pickle, offering it to</i> <span class="sc">Jenny</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Bessie</span>, <i>who +at first shake their heads, afterwards taste; the +pickle is passed among them, and devoured before +the conclusion of the conversation.</i></p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Ah, Mrs. Gabble! I'm glad to see you. + (<i>Takes chair and sits beside her.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> And poor Brown is gone!</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Mr. Brown dead? This is sad news.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> I should think it was—and there's +Skillet, the butcher, chopped off his thumb—and +Miss Pearson fell down stairs and broke her china +sugar-bowl—sp'ilt the whole set. As I told my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>[page 133]</span> +husband, these expensive dishes never can be +matched—and speaking of matches, Mrs. Thorpe +is going to get a divorce. Jest think of it! I met +her going into Carter's shop this morning. She +had on that pink muslin he gave her for a birthday +present—Jenkins has got a new lot of them, only +a shilling a yard—speaking of yards, old Cooper +tumbled into that miserable well in his back yard +this morning. They pulled him out—speaking of +pulling, Miss Tibbet was in to the dentist's this +morning for a new set of teeth, and—Have you +seen my Sis?</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> O, yes. She's in the kitchen with Juno. +And, speaking of Sissy, reminds me that I must +thank you for sending me—</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> My pickles? Yes. Well, I'm glad +you got 'em. But I didn't have a bit of good luck +with 'em. And, speaking of pickles, O, Miss Pease, +that villain, Smith, the grocer, has been taken up. +He's going to be hung. Nothing can save him.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Mr. Smith arrested! For what pray?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> P'isoning! Jest think of it! And he +a deacon in the church, and has such a splendid +span of horses, and such an elegant beach wagon. +I declare, the last time he took us to the beach I +nearly died eating soft-shelled crabs; and my +husband tumbled overboard, and Mr. Brown got +sunstruck; and now he's gone! Dear me, dear me! +And my washing ain't out yet.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> But tell me, Mrs. Gabble, what is it +about the poisoning?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> Why, he or somebody else has been putting +prussic acid in his vinegar, just at the time, too, +when everybody's making pickles; and there's no +end of the p'isoning he will have to answer for. +Mrs. Jewel's just sent for the doctor, and Mrs. +Poor's been dreadful all day, and Dr. Baldtop's +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>[page 134]</span> +flying round from house to house; and, O, dear—there's +my washing! Who'll be the next victim +nobody knows, I'm sure.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> (<i>Jumping up.</i>) O, dear! O, dear! +Send for the doctor, quick! I'm dying, I know +I am. (<i>Runs across stage and sinks into chair</i>, +<span class="sc">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> (<i>Running to her.</i>) Bless me child, what +ails you?</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> I don't know; I can't tell. The doctor, +quick!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> Deary me, she's took sudden, just for +all the world like Susan Richie.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> (<i>Jumping up.</i>) Water, water! Give +me some water! I shall die if I don't have some +water. (<i>Runs down and sinks into chair</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span>)</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> (<i>Jumping up and running to her.</i>) + Gracious goodness! here's another! It's something +dreadful, depend upon it. When folks is took +sudden—</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> (<i>Jumping up.</i>) O, my throat! I'm +burning up! Give me some ipecac. Quick, quick, +quick! (<i>Runs round stage, then sinks into +chair</i>, <span class="sc">C.</span>)</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> There goes another! It's something +dreadful, depend on it.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> What does this mean? Here, Juno, +Juno! Quick!</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Juno, l</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Here I is, Missy Pease.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> Run for the doctor, quick, Juno!</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> (<i>Running</i>, <span class="sc">R.</span>) Bress my soul! I'll +fetch him.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> No, no! Get me some water—quick!</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> (<i>Running</i> <span class="sc">L.</span>) To be sure, honey; to +be sure.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>[page 135]</span> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> No, no, Juno! some ipecac, or a stomach +pump.</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Pump, pump! Want de pump? I'll +fetch it, I'll fetch it. Bress my soul, I'll fetch +something.</p> +<p class="indright"><i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> Well, if this ain't drefful!—washing-day, +too—and the undertaker's jest as busy as he +can be—there never was so much <i>immortality</i> in +this place, never. Poor critters! poor critters!</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Girls, what does this mean?</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> O, Miss Pease, such agony!</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> O, dear, what will become of me?</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> O, this dreadful parching in the throat!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> O, I know it, I know it. I told my +husband that something dreadful was a goin' to +happen when he sold that colt yesterday.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Sadie, what is the meaning of this. +Your pulse is regular, your head cool, and your +tongue clear.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> O, Miss Pease, it's those dreadful +pickles.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> Yes, indeed, it is a drefful pickle—and +so sudden, jest for all the world like poor Mr. +Brown's sudden took, and these always seem to end +fatally at some time or other—Dear me, dear me, +and my wash—</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Pickles! Have you disobeyed me?</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> I couldn't help it, Miss Pease; they +looked so tempting. But I only took one.</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> And I only tasted that.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> I only had one good bite.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> And we are poisoned!</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> O, dear! poisoned!</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Yes, poisoned!</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> How, poisoned?</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> Mrs. Gabble says the vinegar was poisoned +by Mr. Smith.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>[page 136]</span> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> Smith—vinegar—p'isoned! The land +sakes! And I a good church member—and my +washing—and poor Mr. Brown, tew. Well, I +never! I'd have you to know that I bought no +vinegar of Mr. Smith, I made my own.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> And your pickles were not poisoned?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> No, indeed. Never did such a thing in +my life.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> O, dear! I'm so glad! (<i>Jumping up.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> I won't have the ipecac. (<i>Rises.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> My throat is decidedly better. (<i>Rises.</i>)</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Juno</span> <i>with a pail of water and a dipper.</i></p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Bress my soul, de pump was fastened +down so tight couldn't git it up. Here's a pail of +water; if dat won't do I'll git a tub.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> No matter, Juno. I think 'twill not be +needed. Young ladies, I am very sorry—</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> Please, Miss Pease, do not speak of it. +I alone am to blame for transgressing your command, +for such we should consider it, as you are for +the present our guardian. Forgive me, and in future +I will endeavour to control my appetite, and comply +with your wishes.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> Well, I declare, I don't see the harm +in eating pickles. My girls eat their weight in 'em, +and they're just as sweet-tempered as—</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Their mother. Mrs. Gabble, it is not +a question of harm, but of obedience, here. You +see, the young ladies accept me as their guardian, +and I only forbid that which I think their parents +would not approve.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> And there's my washing in the suds! +Where's my Sis.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>[page 137]</span> + +<p class="center1"><span class="indent1"><i>Enter</i></span> <span class="sc">Sissy Gabble, l.</span>, <i>with a large slice of bread, +covered with molasses.</i></p> + +<p><i>Sissy.</i> Here I ith, mother. Mith Peath thed I +might have thumthin, and I like bread, and 'latheth.</p> + +<p><i>Juno.</i> Bress my soul! dat are chile jest runnin' +over with sweetness, sure for sartin.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> Yes; and the 'lasses running all over +the clothes! Come, Sissy, let's go home. I'm sorry, +Miss Pease, you don't like pickles; and I'm sorry, +young ladies, they disagree with you. And I'm +sorry, Miss Pease, I left my washing.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Now don't be sorry at all, Mrs. Gabble. +I'm always glad to see you. Your gift was well-intended, +and the young ladies have suffered no +harm, perhaps received a wholesome lesson.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> I think we have. I shall be very careful +what I touch.</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> O, dear! such a fright! I shall never +get over it.</p> + +<p><i>Bessie.</i> O, Sadie, you thought it was so nice!</p> + +<p><i>Jenny.</i> Yes, such a Precious Pickle!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> Of course it was. My pickles are the +best made in town—precious nice, I tell you. Mrs. +Doolittle always sends in for 'em when she has company; +and the minister says they're awful soothing +arter sermon.</p> + +<p><i>Sadie.</i> O, certainly; I've no doubt of it. But +I've found that <i>stolen</i> fruit is not the sweetest, and +that mischievous fingers make trouble when they +clutch what mine sought, and <i>made</i> a Precious +Pickle.</p> + +<p class="center">[<i>Curtain.</i>]</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>[page 138]</span> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page138a" id="page138a"></a> + +<h2>MY MOTHER'S BIBLE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>MORRIS.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +After once reading this sweet little poem, the student will +need no prompting to teach him that it is not possible for him +to deliver it with too much genuine emotion: +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>HIS</b> book is all that's left me now!</p> +<p class="i6">Tears will unbidden start,—</p> +<p>With faltering lip and throbbing brow,</p> +<p class="i2">I press it to my heart.</p> +<p>For many generations past,</p> +<p class="i2">Here is our family tree;</p> +<p>My mother's hand this Bible clasped;</p> +<p class="i2">She, dying, gave it me.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! well do I remember those</p> +<p class="i2">Whose names those records bear,</p> +<p>Who round the hearthstone used to close</p> +<p class="i2">After the evening prayer,</p> +<p>And speak of what these pages said,</p> +<p class="i2">In tones my heart would thrill!</p> +<p>Though they are with the silent dead,</p> +<p class="i2">Here are they living still!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>My father read this holy book</p> +<p class="i2">To brothers, sisters dear;</p> +<p>How calm was my poor mother's look,</p> +<p class="i2">Who learned God's word to hear.</p> +<p>Her angel-face—I see it yet!</p> +<p class="i2">What thronging memories come!</p> +<p>Again that little group is met</p> +<p class="i2">Within the halls of home!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou truest friend man ever knew,</p> +<p class="i2">Thy constancy I've tried;</p> +<p>Where all were false I found thee true,</p> +<p class="i2">My counsellor and guide.</p> +<p>The mines of earth no treasure give</p> +<p class="i2">That could this volume buy:</p> +<p>In teaching me the way to live,</p> +<p class="i2">It taught me how to die.</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>[page 139]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page139a" id="page139a"></a> + +<h2>ENLISTING AS ARMY NURSE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>LOUISA M. ALCOTT.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">I</span> + <b>WANT</b> something to do."—This remark being +addressed to the world in general, no one in +particular felt it his duty to reply; so I repeated it +to the smaller world about me, received the following +suggestions, and settled the matter by answering +my own inquiry, as people are apt to do when very +much in earnest.</p> + +<p>"Write a book," quoth my father.</p> + +<p>"Don't know enough, sir. First live, then +write."</p> + +<p>"Try teaching again," suggested my mother.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, ma'am; ten years of that is +enough."</p> + +<p>"Take a husband like my Darby, and fulfil your +mission," said Sister Jane, home on a visit.</p> + +<p>"Can't afford expensive luxuries, Mrs. Coobiddy."</p> + +<p>"Turn actress, and immortalize your name," said +Sister Vashti, striking an attitude.</p> + +<p>"I won't."</p> + +<p>"Go nurse the soldiers," said my young neighbor, +Tom, panting for "the tented field."</p> + +<p>"I will!"</p> + +<p>Arriving at this satisfactory conclusion, the +meeting adjourned; and the fact that Miss Tribulation +was available as army nurse went abroad on +the wings of the wind.</p> + +<p>In a few days a townswoman heard of my desire, +approved of it, and brought about an interview with +one of the sisterhood I wished to join, who was at +home on a furlough, and able and willing to satisfy +inquiries.</p> + +<p>A morning chat with Miss General S.—we hear +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>[page 140]</span> +no end of Mrs. Generals, why not a Miss?—produced +three results: I felt that I could do the +work, was offered a place, and accepted it; promising +not to desert, but to stand ready to march on +Washington at an hour's notice.</p> + +<p>A few days were necessary for the letter +containing my request and recommendation to +reach head-quarters, and another, containing my +commission, to return; therefore no time was to +be lost; and, heartily thanking my pair of friends, +I hurried home through the December slush, as +if the Rebels were after me, and, like many +another recruit, burst in upon my family with the +announcement,—"I've enlisted!"</p> + +<p>An impressive silence followed. Tom, the +irrepressible, broke it with a slap on the shoulder +and the grateful compliment,—"Old Trib, you're a +trump!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you; then I'll <i>take</i> something,"—which +I did, in the shape of dinner, reeling off my news +at the rate of three dozen words to a mouthful; +and as every one else talked equally fast, and +all together, the scene was most inspiring.</p> + +<p>As boys going to sea immediately become nautical +in speech, walk as if they already had their sea-legs +on, and shiver their timbers on all possible +occasions, so I turned military at once, called my +dinner my rations, saluted all new-comers, and +ordered a dress-parade that very afternoon.</p> + +<p>Having reviewed every rag I possessed, I detailed +some pieces for picket duty while airing on the +fence; some to the sanitary influences of the wash-tub; +others to mount guard in the trunk; while +the weak and wounded went to the Work-basket +Hospital, to be made ready for active service +again.</p> + +<p>To this squad I devoted myself for a week; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>[page 141]</span> +but all was done, and I had time to get powerfully +impatient before the letter came. It did arrive, +however, and brought a disappointment along with +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'it's'">its</ins> good-will and +friendliness; for it told me that +the place in the Armory Hospital that I supposed I +was to take was already filled, and a much less +desirable one at Hurly-burly House was offered +instead.</p> + +<p>"That's just your luck, Trib. I'll take your +trunk up garret for you again; for of course you +won't go," Tom remarked, with the disdainful +pity which small boys affect when they get into +their teens.</p> + +<p>I was wavering in my secret soul; but that +remark settled the matter, and I crushed him on +the spot with martial brevity,—"It is now one; +I shall march at six."</p> + +<p>I have a confused recollection of spending the +afternoon in pervading the house like an executive +whirlwind, with my family swarming after me,—all +working, talking, prophesying, and lamenting +while I packed such of my things as I was to take +with me, tumbled the rest into two big boxes, +danced on the lids till they shut, and gave them +in charge, with the direction,—"If I never come +back, make a bonfire of them."</p> + +<p>Then I choked down a cup of tea, generously +salted instead of sugared by some agitated relative, +shouldered my knapsack,—it was only a travelling-bag, +but do let me preserve the unities,—hugged +my family three times all round without a vestige +of unmanly emotion, till a certain dear old lady +broke down upon my neck, with a despairing sort +of wail,—"O my dear, my dear! how can I let +you go?"</p> + +<p>"I'll stay, if you say so, mother."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>[page 142]</span> + +<p>"But I don't; go, and the Lord will take care +of you."</p> + +<p>Much of the Roman matron's courage had gone +into the Yankee matron's composition, and, in spite +of her tears, she would have sent ten sons to the +war, had she possessed them, as freely as she sent +one daughter, smiling and flapping on the door-step +till I vanished, though the eyes that followed me +were very dim, and the handkerchief she waved +was very wet.</p> + +<p>My transit from The Gables to the village depot +was a funny mixture of good wishes and good-bys, +mud-puddles and shopping. A December twilight +is not the most cheering time to enter upon a +somewhat perilous enterprise; but I'd no thought +of giving out, O, bless you, no!</p> + +<p>When the ingine screeched "Here we are!" I +clutched my escort in a fervent embrace, and +skipped into the car with as blithe a farewell as +if going on a bridal tour,—though I believe brides +don't usually wear cavernous black bonnets and +fuzzy brown coats, with a hair-brush, a pair of +rubbers, two books, and a bag of gingerbread +distorting the pockets.</p> + +<p>If I thought that people would believe it, I'd +boldly state that I slept from C. to B., which would +simplify matters immensely; but as I know they +wouldn't, I'll confess that the head under the +funereal coal-hod fermented with all manner of +high thoughts and heroic purposes "to do or die,"—perhaps +both; and the heart under the fuzzy +brown coat felt very tender with the memory of +the dear old lady, probably sobbing over her army +socks and the loss of her topsy-turvy Trib.</p> + +<p>At this juncture I took the veil, and what I did +behind it is nobody's business; but I maintain +that the soldier who cries when his mother says +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>[page 143]</span> +"Good by" is the boy to fight best, and die +bravest, when the time comes, or go back to her +better than he went.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page143a" id="page143a"></a> + +<h2>ONLY SIXTEEN.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> +"When last seen, he was considerably intoxicated.... and +was found dead in the highway."—<i>Republican and Democrat of</i> +May 17. +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +O</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>NLY</b> sixteen, so the papers say,</p> +<p class="i6">Yet there on the cold, stony ground he lay;</p> +<p>'Tis the same sad story we hear every day—</p> +<p>He came to his death in the public highway.</p> +<p>Full of promise, talent, and pride,</p> +<p>Yet the rum fiend conquered him; so he died.</p> +<p>Did not the angels weep over the scene?</p> +<p>For he died a drunkard—and only sixteen,</p> +<p class="i16"> Only sixteen.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! it were sad he must die all alone:</p> +<p>That of all his friends, not even one</p> +<p>Was there to list to his last faint moan,</p> +<p>Or point the suffering soul to the throne</p> +<p>Of grace. If, perchance, God's only Son</p> +<p>Would say, "Whosoever will may come."</p> +<p>But we hasten to draw a veil over the scene,</p> +<p>With his God we leave him—only sixteen.</p> +<p class="i16"> Only sixteen.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Rumseller, come view the work you have wrought:</p> +<p>Witness the suffering and pain you have brought</p> +<p>To the poor boy's friends. They loved him well,</p> +<p>And yet you dared the vile beverage to sell</p> +<p>That beclouded his brain, his reason dethroned,</p> +<p>And left him to die out there all alone.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>[page 144]</span> +<p>What if 'twere <i>your</i> son instead of another?</p> +<p>What if your wife were that poor boy's mother,</p> +<p class="i16"> And he only sixteen?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Ye free-holders who signed the petition to grant</p> +<p>The license to sell, do you think you will want</p> +<p>That record to meet in the last great day,</p> +<p>When the earth and the heavens shall have passed away,</p> +<p>When the elements, melted with fervent heat,</p> +<p>Shall proclaim the triumph of <span class="sc">Right</span> complete?</p> +<p>Will you wish to have his blood on your hands</p> +<p>When before the great throne you each shall stand,</p> +<p class="i16"> And he only sixteen?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Christian men! rouse ye to stand for the right,</p> +<p>To action and duty; into the light</p> +<p>Come with your banners, inscribed "Death to rum."</p> +<p>Let your conscience speak. Listen, then, come;</p> +<p>Strike killing blows; hew to the line;</p> +<p>Make it a felony even to sign</p> +<p>A petition to license; you would do it, I ween,</p> +<p>If that were your son, and "only sixteen,"</p> +<p class="i16"> Only sixteen.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i28"><span class="sc">The Watchword.</span></p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page144a" id="page144a"></a> + +<h2>THE GRIDIRON.</h2> + +<h4><span class="sc">The Captain, Patrick, and the Frenchman.</span></h4> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">P</span> +<b>ATRICK.</b> Well, Captain, whereabouts in the +wide world <i>are</i> we? Is it Roosia, Proosia, or +the Jarmant oceant?</p> + +<p><i>Captain.</i> Tut, you fool; it's France.</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Tare and ouns! do you tell me so? and +how do you know it's France, Captain dear?</p> + +<p><i>Captain.</i> Because we were on the coast of the +Bay of Biscay when the vessel was wrecked.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145"></a>[page 145]</span> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Throth, I was thinkin' so myself. +And now, Captain jewel, it is I that wishes we had a +gridiron.</p> + +<p><i>Captain.</i> Why, Patrick, what puts the notion of a +gridiron into your head?</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Because I'm starving with hunger, +Captain dear.</p> + +<p><i>Captain.</i> Surely you do not intend to eat a +gridiron, do you?</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Ate a gridiron; bad luck to it! no. +But if we had a gridiron, we could dress a beefsteak.</p> + +<p><i>Captain.</i> Yes; but where's the beefsteak, +Patrick?</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Sure, couldn't we cut it off the pork?</p> + +<p><i>Captain.</i> I never thought of that. You are a +clever fellow, Patrick. (<i>Laughing.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> There's many a thrue word said in joke, +Captain. And now, if you will go and get the bit of +pork that we saved from the rack, I'll go to the house +there beyant, and ax some of them to lind me the +loan of a gridiron.</p> + +<p><i>Captain.</i> But, Patrick, this is France, and they +are all foreigners here.</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Well, and how do you know but I am as +good a furriner myself as any o' them.</p> + +<p><i>Captain.</i> What do you mean, Patrick?</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Parley voo frongsay?</p> + +<p><i>Captain.</i> O, you understand French, then, is it?</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Throth, you may say that, Captain +dear.</p> + +<p>Captain. Well, Patrick, success to you. Be civil +to the foreigners, and I'll be back with the pork in a +minute.</p> +<p class="indright"> + [<i>He goes out.</i></p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Ay, sure enough, I'll be civil to +them; for the Frinch are always mighty p'lite +intirely, and I'll show them I know what good +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146"></a>[page 146]</span> +manners is. Indade, and here comes munseer +himself, quite convaynient. (<i>As the Frenchman +enters, Patrick takes off his hat, and making a low +bow, says:</i>) God save you, sir, and all your +children. I beg your pardon for the liberty I take, +but it's only being in disthress in regard of ateing, +that I make bowld to trouble ye; and if you could +lind me the loan of a gridiron, I'd be intirely +obleeged to ye.</p> + +<p><i>Frenchman (staring at him).</i> Comment!</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Indade it's thrue for you. I'm tathered +to paces, and God knows I look quare enough; but +it's by rason of the storm that dhruve us ashore jist +here, and we're all starvin'.</p> + +<p><i>Frenchman.</i> Je m'y t—(<i>pronounced</i> zhe meet).</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Oh! not at all! by no manes! we have +plenty of mate ourselves, and we'll dhress it, if you +be plased jist to lind us the loan of a gridiron, sir. + (<i>Making a low bow.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Frenchman (staring at him, but not understanding +a word.)</i></p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> I beg pardon, sir; but maybe I'm +undher a mistake, but I thought I was in France, sir. +An't you all furriners here? Parley voo frongsay?</p> + +<p><i>Frenchman.</i> Oui, monsieur.</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Then, would you lind me the loan of a +gridiron, if you plase? (<i>The Frenchman stares +more than ever, as if anxious to understand.</i>) I +know it's a liberty I take, sir; but it's only in the +regard of bein' cast away; and if you plase, sir, +parley voo frongsay?</p> + +<p><i>Frenchman.</i> Oui, monsieur, oui.</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Then would you lind me the loan of a +gridiron, sir and you'll obleege me?</p> + +<p><i>Frenchman.</i> Monsieur, pardon, monsieur—</p> + +<p><i>Patrick. (Angrily).</i> By my sowl, if it was you +was in disthress, and if it was to owld Ireland you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>[page 147]</span> +came, it's not only the gridiron they'd give you, if +you axed it, but something to put on it too, and a +dhrop of dhrink into the bargain. Can't you understand +your own language? (<i>Very slowly.</i>) Parley—voo—frongsay—munseer?</p> + +<p><i>Frenchman.</i> Oui, monsieur; oui, monsieur, mais—</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Then lend me the loan of a gridiron, I +say, and bad scram to you.</p> + +<p><i>Frenchman (bowing and scraping).</i> Monsieur, je +ne l'entend—</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Phoo! the divil sweep yourself and your +long tongs! I don't want a tongs at all, at all. +Can't you listen to rason?</p> + +<p><i>Frenchman.</i> Oui, oui, monsieur: certainement, mais—</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Then lind me the loan of a gridiron, and +howld your prate. (<i>The Frenchman shakes his head, +as if to say he did not understand; but Patrick, +thinking he meant it as a refusal, says, in a passion:</i>) + Bad cess to the likes o' you! Throth, if you were in +my counthry, it's not that-a-way they'd use you. +The curse o' the crows on you, you owld sinner! The +divil another word I'll say to you. (<i>The Frenchman +puts his hand on his heart, and tries to express +compassion in his countenance.</i>) Well, I'll give you +one chance more, you old thafe! Are you a +Christhian, at all, at all? Are you a furriner that all +the world calls so p'lite? Bad luck to you! do you +understand your mother tongue? Parley voo frongsay? + (<i>Very loud.</i>) Parley voo frongsay?</p> + +<p><i>Frenchman.</i> Oui, monsieur, oui, oui.</p> + +<p><i>Patrick.</i> Then, thunder and turf! will you lind me +the loan of a gridiron? (<i>The Frenchman shakes his +head, as if he did not understand; and Pat says, +vehemently:</i>) The curse of the hungry be on you, +you owld negarly villian! the back of my hand and +the sowl of my fut to you! May you want a gridiron +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>[page 148]</span> +yourself yet! and wherever I go, it's high and low, +rich and poor, shall hear of it, and be hanged to +you!</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page148a" id="page148a"></a> + +<h2>THE FORGING OF THE ANCHOR.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>SAMUEL FERGUSON.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +This fine poem is full of points for brilliant declamation; at +times there should be a flow of rapid narration, rising frequently +into shouts of exultation: +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +C</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>OME</b>, see the good ship's anchor forged—'tis at a white heat now:</p> +<p class="i4">The bellows ceased, the flames decreased—though on the forge's brow</p> +<p>The little flames still fitfully play through the sable mound,</p> +<p>And fitfully you still may see the grim smiths ranking round;</p> +<p>All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only bare—</p> +<p>Some rest upon their sledges here, some work the windlass there.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The windlass strains the tackle chains, the black mound heaves below,</p> +<p>And red and deep a hundred veins burst out at every throe!</p> +<p>It rises, roars, rends all outright—O, Vulcan, what a glow:</p> +<p>'Tis blinding white, 'tis blasting bright—the high sun shines not so!</p> +<p>The high sun sees not, on the earth, such fiery fearful show;</p> +<p>The roof-ribs swart, the candent hearth, the ruddy lurid row</p> +<p>Of smiths that stand, an ardent band, like men before the foe</p> +<p>As, quivering through his fleece of flame, the sailing-monster slow</p> +<p>Sinks on the anvil—all about the faces fiery grow.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>[page 149]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Hurrah!" they shout, "leap out—leap out;" bang, bang the sledges go;</p> +<p>Hurrah! the jetted lightnings are hissing high and low—</p> +<p>A hailing fount of fire is struck at every quashing blow;</p> +<p>The leathern mail rebounds the hail, the rattling cinders strow</p> +<p>The ground around: at every bound the sweltering fountains flow</p> +<p>And thick and loud the swinking crowd at every stroke pant "Ho!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Leap out, leap out, my masters; leap out and lay on load!</p> +<p>Let's forge a goodly anchor—a bower thick and broad;</p> +<p>For a heart of oak is hanging on every blow, I bode,</p> +<p>And I see the good ship riding, all in a perilous road—</p> +<p>The low reef roaring on her lee—the roll of ocean poured</p> +<p>From stem to stern, sea after sea; the mainmast by the board;</p> +<p>The bulwarks down, the rudder gone, the boats stove at the chains!</p> +<p>But courage still, brave mariners—the bower yet remains!</p> +<p>And not an inch to flinch he deigns, save when ye pitch sky-high;</p> +<p>Then moves his head, as though he said, "Fear nothing—here am I."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Swing in your strokes in order, let foot and hand keep time;</p> +<p>Your blows make sweeter music far than any steeple's chime.</p> +<p>But while you sling your sledges, sing—and let the burden be,</p> +<p>"The anchor is the anvil king, and royal craftsmen we:"</p> +<p>Strike in, strike in—the sparks begin to dull their rustling red;</p> +<p>Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Our anchor must soon change his bed of fiery rich array,</p> +<p>For a hammock at the roaring bows, or an oozy couch of clay;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150"></a>[page 150]</span> +<p>Our anchor must soon change the lay of merry craftsmen here,</p> +<p>For the "Yeo-heave-o'!" and the "Heave-away!" and the sighing seaman's cheer;</p> +<p>When, weighing slow, at eve they go—far, far from love and home;</p> +<p>And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the ocean foam.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>In livid and obdurate gloom he darkens down at last;</p> +<p>A shapely one he is, and strong, as e'er from cast was cast.</p> +<p>O, trusted and trustworthy guard, if thou hadst life like me,</p> +<p>What pleasures would thy toils reward beneath the deep green sea!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>O, broad-armed diver of the deep, whose sports can equal thine?</p> +<p>The good ship weighs a thousand tons, that tugs thy cable line;</p> +<p>And, night by night, 'tis thy delight, thy glory day by day,</p> +<p>Through sable sea and breaker white, the giant game to play.</p> +<p>O, lodger in the sea-king's halls, couldst thou but understand</p> +<p>Whose be the white bones by thy side, once leagued in patriot band!</p> +<p>O, couldst thou know what heroes glide with larger steps round thee,</p> +<p>Thine iron sides would swell with pride; thou'dst leap within the sea!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Give honor to their memories who left the pleasant strand,</p> +<p>To shed their blood so freely for love of father-land—</p> +<p>Who left their chance of quiet age and grassy church-yard grave</p> +<p>So freely, for a restless bed amid the tossing wave—</p> +<p>O, though our anchor may not be all I have fondly sung,</p> +<p>Honor him for their memory, whose bones he goes among!</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>[page 151]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page151a" id="page151a"></a> + +<h2>LORD DUNDREARY AT BRIGHTON.</h2> + +<h4>AND THE RIDDLE HE MADE THERE.</h4> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">O</span> +<b>NE</b> of the many popular delusions wespecting the +Bwitish swell is the supposition that he leads an +independent life,—goes to bed when he likes, gets +up when he likes, d-dwesses how he likes, and dines +when he pleases.</p> + +<p>The public are gwossly deceived on this point. A +weal swell is as m-much under authowity as a p-poor +devil of a pwivate in the marines, a clerk in a government +office, or a f-forth-form boy at Eton. Now I +come under the demon—demonima—(no,—thop,—what +is the word?)—dom—denom—d-denomination, +that 'th it—I come under the d-denomination of a +swell—(in—in fact—a <i>howwid</i> swell—some of my +friends call me, but <i>that'th</i> only their flattewy), and +I assure you a f-fellah in that capacity is so much +westained by rules of f-fashion, that he can scarcely +call his eyeglath his own. A swell, I take it, is a +fellah who t-takes care that he swells as well as +swells who swell as well as he, (there's thuch lot of +thwelling in that thentence,—ha, ha!—it's what you +might c-call a busting definition). What I mean is, +that a f-fellah is obliged to do certain things at certain +times of the year, whether he likes 'em or no. +For instance, in the season I've got to go to a lot of +balls and dwums and tea-fights in town, that I don't +care a bit about, and show myself in the Park wegularly +evewy afternoon; and latht month I had to +victimize mythelf down in the countwy,—shooting (a +bwutal sort of amusement, by the way). Well, about +the end of October evewy one goes to Bwighton, n-no +one knowth why,—that'th the betht of it,—and so I +had to go too,—that's the wortht of it,—ha, ha!</p> + +<p>Not that it's such a b-bad place after all,—I d-dare +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>[page 152]</span> +say if I hadn't <i>had</i> to go I should have gone all the +same, for what is a f-fellah to do who ith n't much of +a sportsman just about this time? There 'th +n-nothing particular going on in London. Evewything +is b-beathly dull; so I thought I would just +run down on the Southeastern Wailway to be—ha, +ha!—Bwightoned up a bit. (Come, th-that's not bad +for an impromptu!)</p> + +<p>B-Bwighton was invented in the year 1784, by his +Woyal Highness George P-Pwince of Wales,—the +author of the shoebuckle, the stand-up collar (a +b-beathly inconvenient and cut-throat thort of a +machine), and a lot of other exthploded things. He +built the Pavilion down there, which looks like a lot +of petrified onions from Bwobdinag clapped down +upon a guard-house. There'th a jolly sort of garden +attached to the building, in which the b-band plays +twice a week, and evewy one turns in there about +four o'clock, so I went too (n-not <i>too</i> o'clock, you +know, but f-four o'clock). I—I'm vewy fond of +m-martial music, mythelf. I like the dwums and the +t-twombones, and the ophicleides, and all those sort +of inshtwuments,—yeth, ethpethelly the bwass ones,—they're +so vewy exthpiring, they are. Thtop +though, ith it expiring or <i>p-per</i>thpiring?—n-neither +of 'em sound quite right. Oh! I have it now, it—it's +<i>in</i>thspiring,—that'th what it is, because the +f-fellahs <i>bweathe into them</i>!</p> + +<p>That weminds me of a widdle I made down there +(I—I've taken to widdles lately, and weally it'th a +vewy harmleth thort of a way of getting thwough the +morning, and it amuthes two f-fellahs at onth, +because if—if you athk a fellah a widdle, and he +can't guess it, you can have a jolly good laugh at +<i>him</i>, and—if he—if he <i>doth</i> guess it, he—I mean you—no—that +is the widdle—stop, I—I'm getting confuthed,—where +wath I? Oh! I know. If—if he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>[page 153]</span> +<i>doth</i> guess it.... however it ithn't vewy likely he +would—so what's the good of thupposing impwobabilities?) +Well, thith was the widdle I made,—I +thed to Sloper (Sloper's a fwiend of mine,—a vewy +gook thort of fellah Sloper is,—I d-don't know exactly +what his pwofession would be called, but hith uncle +got him into a b-berth where he gets f-five hundred a +year,—f-for doing nothing—s-somewhere—I forget +where—but I—I know he does it),—I said to Sloper, +"Why is that f-fellah with the b-bassooon l-like his +own instrument?" and Sloper said, "How—how the +dooth should I know?" (Ha, ha!—I thought he'd +give it up!) So I said to Sloper, "Why, b-because +they both get <i>blown</i>—in <i>time</i>!" <i>You</i> thee the joke, +of course, but I don't think Sloper did, thomhow; all +he thed was, "V-vewy mild, Dundreary,"—and t-tho—it +was mild—thertainly, <i>f-for October</i>, but I d-don't +thee why a f-fellah should go making wemarks about +the weather instead of laughing at m-my widdle.</p> + +<p>In this pwomenade that I was speaking of, you see +such a lot of thtunning girls evewy afternoon,—dwessed +twemendous swells, and looking like—yes, +by Jove! l-like angels in cwinoline,—there 'th no +other word for it. There are two or thwee always +<i>will</i> l-laugh, somehow, when I meet them,—they do +now <i>weally</i>. I—I almost fancy they wegard me with +intewest. I mutht athk Sloper if he can get me an +introduction. Who knowth? pwaps I might make +an impwession,—I'll twy,—I—I've got a little converthathional +power,—and <i>theveral</i> new wethcoats.</p> + +<p>Bwighton is filling fast now. You see dwoves of +ladies evewy day on horseback, widing about in all +diwections. By the way, I—I muthn't forget to +mention that I met those two girls that always laugh +when they thee me, at a tea-fight. One of 'em—the +young one—told me, when I was intwoduced to her,—in—in +confidence, mind,—that she had often heard +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>[page 154]</span> +of me and of my <i>widdles</i>. Tho you thee I'm getting +quite a weputathun that way. The other morning, at +Mutton's, she wath ch-chaffing me again, and +begging me to tell her the latetht thing in widdles. +Now, I hadn't heard any mythelf for thome time, tho +I couldn't give her any <i>vewy</i> great novelty, but a +fwiend of mine made one latht theason which I +thought wather neat, tho I athked her, When ith a +jar not a jar? Thingularly enough, the moment she +heard thith widdle she burtht out laughing behind +her pocket-handkerchief!</p> + +<p>"Good gwacious! what'th the matter?" said I. +"Have you ever heard it before?"</p> + +<p>"Never," she said emphatically, "in that form; +do, <i>please</i> tell me the answer."</p> + +<p>So I told her,—When it ith a door! Upon which +she—she went off again in hystewics. I—I—I never +<i>did</i> see such a girl for laughing. I know it's a good +widdle, but I didn't think it would have such an +effect as <i>that</i>.</p> + +<p>By the way, Sloper told me afterwards that he +thought <i>he</i> had heard the widdle before, somewhere, +but it was put in a different way. He said it was: +When ith a door not a door?—and the answer, +When it ith ajar!</p> + +<p>I—I've been thinking over the matter lately, and +though I dare thay it—d-don't much matter which +way the question is put, still—pwaps the last f-form +is the betht. It—it seems to me to <i>wead</i> better. +What do you think?</p> + +<p>Now I weckomember, I made thuch a jolly widdle +the other day on the Ethplanade. I thaw a fellah +with a big New—Newfoundland dog, and he inthpired +me—the dog, you know, not the fellah,—he wath a +lunatic. I'm keeping the widdle, but I don't mind +telling <i>you</i>.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155"></a>[page 155]</span> + +<p>Why does a dog waggle hith tail? Give it up? +I think motht fellahs will give that up!</p> + +<p>You thee, the dog waggles hith tail becauth the +dog's stwonger than the tail. If he wath n't, the tail +would waggle the dog!</p> + +<p>Ye-th,—that 'th what I call a widdle. If I can only +wecollect him, I thall athtonish those two girls thome +of these days.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page155a" id="page155a"></a> + +<h2>THE VOICES AT THE THRONE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>T. WESTWOOD.</b></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +A</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>LITTLE</b> child,</p> +<p class="i6">A little meek-faced, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'quite'">quiet</ins> village child,</p> +<p>Sat singing by her cottage door at eve</p> +<p>A low, sweet sabbath song. No human ear</p> +<p>Caught the faint melody,—no human eye</p> +<p>Beheld the upturned aspect, or the smile</p> +<p>That wreathed her innocent lips while they breathed</p> +<p>The oft-repeated burden of the hymn,</p> +<p>"Praise God! Praise God!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"> A seraph by the throne</p> +<p>In full glory stood. With eager hand</p> +<p>He smote the golden harp-string, till a flood</p> +<p>Of harmony on the celestial air</p> +<p>Welled forth, unceasing. There with a great voice,</p> +<p>He sang the "Holy, holy evermore,</p> +<p>Lord God Almighty!" and the eternal courts</p> +<p>Thrilled with the rapture, and the hierarchies,</p> +<p>Angel, and rapt archangel, throbbed and burned</p> +<p>With vehement adoration.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"> Higher yet</p> +<p>Rose the majestic anthem, without pause,</p> +<p>Higher, with rich magnificence of sound,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>[page 156]</span> +<p>To its full strength; and still the infinite heavens</p> +<p>Rang with the "Holy, holy evermore!"</p> +<p>Till, trembling with excessive awe and love,</p> +<p>Each sceptred spirit sank before the Throne</p> +<p>With a mute hallelujah.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"> But even then,</p> +<p>While the ecstatic song was at its height,</p> +<p>Stole in an alien voice,—a voice that seemed</p> +<p>To float, float upward from some world afar,—</p> +<p>A meek and childlike voice, faint, but how sweet!</p> +<p>That blended with the spirits' rushing strain,</p> +<p>Even as a fountain's music, with the roll</p> +<p>Of the reverberate thunder.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"> Loving smiles</p> +<p>Lit up the beauty of each angel's face</p> +<p>At that new utterance, smiles of joy that grew</p> +<p>More joyous yet, as ever and anon</p> +<p>Was heard the simple burden of the hymn,</p> +<p>"Praise God! praise God!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"> And when the seraph's song</p> +<p>Had reached its close, and o'er the golden lyre</p> +<p>Silence hung brooding,—when the eternal courts</p> +<p>Rang with the echoes of his chant sublime,</p> +<p>Still through the abysmal space that wandering voice</p> +<p>Came floating upward from its world afar,</p> +<p>Still murmured sweet on the celestial air,</p> +<p>"Praise God! praise God!"</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page156a" id="page156a"></a> + +<h2>MY FRIEND'S SECRET.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +I</div><br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>FOUND</b> my friend in his easy chair,</p> +<p class="i4">With his heart and his head undisturbed by a care;</p> +<p>The smoke of a Cuba outpoured from his lips,</p> +<p>His face like the moon in a semi-eclipse;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>[page 157]</span> +<p>His feet, in slippers, as high as his nose,</p> +<p>And his chair tilted back to a classical pose.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I marvelled much such contentment to see—</p> +<p>The secret whereof I begged he'd give me.</p> +<p>He puffed away with re-animate zest,</p> +<p>As though with an added jollity blest.</p> +<p>"I'll tell you, my friend," said he, in a pause,</p> +<p>"What is the very 'identical' cause.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Don't fret!—Let this be the first rule of your life;—</p> +<p>Don't fret with your children, don't fret with your wife;</p> +<p>Let everything happen as happen it may,</p> +<p>Be cool as a cucumber every day;</p> +<p>If favourite of fortune or a thing of its spite,</p> +<p>Keep calm, and believe that all is just right.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"If you're blown up abroad or scolded at home,</p> +<p>Just make up your mind to let it all come:</p> +<p>If people revile you or pile on offence,</p> +<p>'Twill not make any odds a century hence.</p> +<p>For all the reviling that malice can fling,</p> +<p>A little philosophy softens the sting.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Run never in debt, but pay as you go;</p> +<p>A man free from debt feels a heaven below;</p> +<p>He rests in a sunshine undimmed by a dun,</p> +<p>And ranks 'mid the favoured as A No. 1.</p> +<p>It needs a great effort the spirit to brace</p> +<p>'Gainst the terror that dwells in a creditor's face.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"And this one resolve you should cherish like gold,</p> +<p>—It has ever my life and endeavour controlled,—</p> +<p>If fortune assail, and worst comes to worst,</p> +<p>And business proves bad, its bubbles all burst,</p> +<p>Be resolved, if disaster your plans circumvent,</p> +<p>That you will, if you fail, owe no man a cent."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>There was Bunsby's deep wisdom revealed in his tone,</p> +<p>Though its depth was hard to fathom I own;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>[page 158]</span> +<p>"For how can I fail," I said to myself,</p> +<p>"If to pay all my debts I have enough pelf?"</p> +<p>Then I scratched my sinciput, battling for light,</p> +<p>But gave up the effort, supposing 'twas right;</p> +<p>And herein give out, as my earnest intent,</p> +<p>Whenever I fail to owe no man a cent.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page158a" id="page158a"></a> + +<h2>VAIN REGRETS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +A</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>SEEDY</b> old beggar asked alms of me</p> +<p class="i6">As he sat 'neath the shade of a wayside tree.</p> +<p>He was beggared in purse and beggared in soul,</p> +<p>And his voice betrayed a pitiful dole,</p> +<p>As he sang a song, to a dismal pitch,</p> +<p>With the burden, "<span class="sc">If things was only sich</span>!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"If things was only sich," said he,</p> +<p>"You should see what a wonderful man I'd be;</p> +<p>No beggar I, by the wayside thrown,</p> +<p>But I'd live in a palace and millions own,</p> +<p>And men would court me if I were rich—</p> +<p>As I'd be if things was only sich."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"If things was only sich," said he,</p> +<p>"I'd be lord of the land and lord of the sea;</p> +<p>I would have a throne and be a king,</p> +<p>And rule the roast with a mighty swing—</p> +<p>I'd make a place in Fame's bright niche;</p> +<p>I'd do it if things was only sich."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"If things was only sich," said he,</p> +<p>"Rare wines I'd quaff from the far countree,</p> +<p>I'd cloth myself in dazzling garb,</p> +<p>I'd mount the back of the costly barb,</p> +<p>And none should ask me wherefore or which—</p> +<p>Did it chance that things was only sich."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>[page 159]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"If things was only sich," said he,</p> +<p>"I'd love the fairest and they'd love me;</p> +<p>Yon dame, with a smile that warms my heart,</p> +<p>Might have borne with me life's better part,</p> +<p>But lost to me, here in poverty's ditch,</p> +<p>What were mine if things was only sich."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Thus the old beggar moodily sung,</p> +<p>And his eyes dropped tears as his hands he wrung.</p> +<p>I could but pity to hear him berate,</p> +<p>In dolorous tones the decrees of Fate,</p> +<p>That laid on his back its iron switch,</p> +<p>While he cried, "If things was only sich."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"If things was only sich!"—e'en all</p> +<p>Might the past in sad review recall;</p> +<p>But little the use and little the gain,</p> +<p>Exhuming the bones of buried pain,</p> +<p>And whether we're poor or whether we're rich,</p> +<p>We'll say not, "If things was only sich."</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page159a" id="page159a"></a> + +<h2>ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>E. L. BEERS.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +The opening verses should be given in a low, almost plaintive +tone; when the flag is seen, the exclamations should be ejaculated +with spirit and rapturous delight. Care should be taken +not to give the negro <i>patois</i> too broad, or it may prove a defect; +where properly spoken it is really a beauty: +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +M</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>OVE</b> my arm-chair, faithful Pompey</p> +<p class="i6">In the sunshine bright and strong,</p> +<p>For this world is fading, Pompey—</p> +<p class="i2">Massa won't be with you long;</p> +<p>And I fain would hear the south wind</p> +<p class="i2">Bring once more the sound to me,</p> +<p>Of the wavelets softly breaking</p> +<p class="i2">On the shores of Tennessee.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>[page 160]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Mournful though the ripples murmur</p> +<p class="i2">As they still the story tell,</p> +<p>How no vessels float the banner</p> +<p class="i2">That I've loved so long and well.</p> +<p>I shall listen to their music,</p> +<p class="i2">Dreaming that again I see</p> +<p>Stars and stripes on sloop and shallop</p> +<p class="i2">Sailing up the Tennessee;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"And, Pompey, while old Massa's waiting</p> +<p class="i2">For Death's last dispatch to come,</p> +<p>If that exiled starry banner</p> +<p class="i2">Should come proudly sailing home.</p> +<p>You shall greet it slave no longer—</p> +<p class="i2">Voice and hand shall both be free</p> +<p>That shout and point to Union colors</p> +<p class="i2">On the waves of Tennessee."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Massa's berry kind to Pompey;</p> +<p class="i2">But old darkey's happy here.</p> +<p>Where he's tended corn and cotton</p> +<p class="i2">For dese many a long gone year.</p> +<p>Over yonder, Missis' sleeping—</p> +<p class="i2">No one tends her grave like me:</p> +<p>Mebbe she would miss the flowers</p> +<p class="i2">She used to love in Tennessee.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Pears like, she was watching Massa—</p> +<p class="i2">If Pompey should beside him stay,</p> +<p>Mebbe she'd remember better</p> +<p class="i2">How for him she used to pray;</p> +<p>Telling him that way up yonder</p> +<p class="i2">White as snow his soul would be,</p> +<p>If he served the Lord of Heaven</p> +<p class="i2">While he lived in Tennessee."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Silently the tears were rolling</p> +<p class="i2">Down the poor old dusky face,</p> +<p>As he stepped behind his master,</p> +<p class="i2">In his long-accustomed place.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>[page 161]</span> +<p>Then a silence fell around them,</p> +<p class="i2">As they gazed on rock and tree</p> +<p>Pictured in the placid waters</p> +<p class="i2">Of the rolling Tennessee;—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Master, dreaming of the battle</p> +<p class="i2">Where he fought by Marion's side,</p> +<p>When he bid the haughty Tarleton</p> +<p class="i2">Stoop his lordly crest of pride;—</p> +<p>Man, remembering how yon sleeper</p> +<p class="i2">Once he held upon his knee,</p> +<p>Ere she loved the gallant soldier,</p> +<p class="i2">Ralph Vervair of Tennessee.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Still the south wind fondly lingers</p> +<p class="i2">'Mid the veteran's silver hair;</p> +<p>Still the bondman close beside him</p> +<p class="i2">Stands behind the old arm-chair,</p> +<p>With his dark-hued hand uplifted,</p> +<p class="i2">Shading eyes, he bends to see</p> +<p>Where the woodland, boldly jutting,</p> +<p class="i2">Turns aside the Tennessee.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Thus he watches cloud-born shadows</p> +<p class="i2">Glide from tree to mountain-crest,</p> +<p>Softly creeping, aye and ever</p> +<p class="i2">To the river's yielding breast.</p> +<p>Ha! above the foliage yonder</p> +<p class="i2">Something flutters wild and free</p> +<p>"Massa! Massa! Hallelujah!</p> +<p class="i2">The flag's come back to Tennessee!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Pompey, hold me on your shoulder,</p> +<p class="i2">Help me stand on foot once more,</p> +<p>That I may salute the colors</p> +<p class="i2">As they pass my cabin door.</p> +<p>Here's the paper signed that frees you,</p> +<p class="i2">Give a freeman's shout with me—</p> +<p>'God and Union!' be our watchword</p> +<p class="i2">Evermore in Tennessee!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>[page 162]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then the trembling voice grew fainter,</p> +<p class="i2">And the legs refused to stand;</p> +<p>One prayer to Jesus—and the soldier</p> +<p class="i2">Glided to the better land.</p> +<p>When the flag went down the river</p> +<p class="i2">Man and master both were free;</p> +<p>While the ring-dove's note was mingled</p> +<p class="i2">With the rippling Tennessee.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page162a" id="page162a"></a> + +<h2>THE BLACK REGIMENT. PORT HUDSON.</h2> + +<p> + <span class="indleft" style="float: left"><b>MAY 27, 1863.</b></span> <span class="indright" style="float: right"><b>GEO. H. BOKER.</b></span></p> + +<p class="clear" style="margin-bottom: -1.5em;"> </p> +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +D</div><br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>ARK</b> as the clouds of even,</p> +<p class="i6">Ranked in the western heaven,</p> +<p>Waiting the breath that lifts</p> +<p>All the dread mass, and drifts</p> +<p>Tempest and falling brand</p> +<p>Over a ruined land;—</p> +<p>So still and orderly,</p> +<p>Arm to arm, knee to knee,</p> +<p>Waiting the great event</p> +<p>Stands the black regiment.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Down the long dusky line</p> +<p>Teeth gleam and eye-balls shine,</p> +<p>And the bright bayonet,</p> +<p>Bristling, and firmly set,</p> +<p>Flashed with a purpose grand,</p> +<p>Long, ere the sharp command</p> +<p>Of the fierce rolling drum</p> +<p>Told them their time had come,</p> +<p>Told them what work was sent</p> +<p>For the black regiment.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Now," the flag-sergeant cried,</p> +<p>"Though death and hell betide,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>[page 163]</span> +<p>Let the whole nation see</p> +<p>If we are fit to be</p> +<p>Free in this land; or bound</p> +<p>Down, like the whining hound,—</p> +<p>Bound with red stripes of pain</p> +<p>In our cold chains again!"</p> +<p>Oh! what a shout there went</p> +<p>From the black regiment!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Charge!" trump and drum awoke,</p> +<p>Onward the bondmen broke:</p> +<p>Bayonet and sabre stroke</p> +<p>Vainly opposed their rush.</p> +<p>Through the wild battle's crush,</p> +<p>With but one thought aflush,</p> +<p>Driving their lords like chaff,</p> +<p>In the guns' mouths they laugh;</p> +<p>Or at the slippery brands</p> +<p>Leaping with open hands,</p> +<p>Down they tear man and horse,</p> +<p>Down in their awful course;</p> +<p>Trampling with bloody heel</p> +<p>Over the crashing steel,</p> +<p>All their eyes forward bent,</p> +<p>Rushed the black regiment.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Freedom!" their battle-cry,—</p> +<p>"Freedom! or learn to die!"</p> +<p>Ah! and they meant the word,</p> +<p>Not as with us 'tis heard,</p> +<p>Not a mere party shout:</p> +<p>They gave their spirits out;</p> +<p>Trusted the end to God,</p> +<p>And on the glory sod</p> +<p>Rolled in triumphant blood.</p> +<p>Glad to strike one free blow,</p> +<p>Whether for weal or woe;</p> +<p>Glad to breathe one free breath,</p> +<p>Though on the lips of death,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>[page 164]</span> +<p>Praying—alas! in vain!—</p> +<p>That they might fall again,</p> +<p>So they could once more see</p> +<p>That burst to liberty!</p> +<p>This was what "freedom" lent</p> +<p>To the black regiment.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Hundreds on hundreds fell;</p> +<p>But they are resting well;</p> +<p>Scourges and shackles strong</p> +<p>Never shall do them wrong.</p> +<p>O, to the living few,</p> +<p>Soldiers, be just and true!</p> +<p>Hail them as comrades tried;</p> +<p>Fight with them side by side;</p> +<p>Never in field or tent,</p> +<p>Scorn the black regiment.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page164a" id="page164a"></a> + +<h2>THE THIEF OF TIME.</h2> + +<h4>CHARACTERS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<table summary="pupils" style="border-collapse: collapse;"> +<tr> + <td><br style="line-height: 65%" /><span class="sc">John Ray</span>,<br /> + <span class="sc">Charley Cheerful</span>,<br /> + <span class="sc">Ralph Ready</span>, + + </td> + <td><span style="font-size: 3.5em;">}</span></td> + <td>School-boys.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Hanks</span>, a Deaf Gentleman.</p> +<p><span class="sc">John Clod</span>, a Countryman.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Patsy Flinn</span>, an Irishman.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<p class="center1"><span class="sc">Scene.</span>—<i>A Quiet Place in the Country.</i></p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Ralph Ready, r.</span>, <i>with School-books</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> Twenty minutes of nine. I can take it +easy this morning. How glad I am I staid at home +last night and studied "Spartacus." It's Declamation +Day, and I want to win the highest mark. If I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>[page 165]</span> +fail, it will not be for want of study. I believe I'm +all right. (<i>Declaims.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ye call me Chief—"<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>*</sup></a></p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Charley Cheerful, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> (<i>Clapping his hands.</i>) Bravo! Bravo! +Spartacus. "They do well to call <i>you</i> chief!" number +one in arithmetic, history, and geography; and +to-day I've no doubt we shall call you number one in +declamation.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> Ah, Charley, glad to see you. Are you +all ready for the contest?</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> Yes, Ralph. (<i>Declaims.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Again to the battle, Achaians;</p> +<p>Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> I see "a foeman worthy of my steel." +Well, Charley, good luck to you.</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> The same to you. I believe we are +about equally matched. I want to take the highest +mark, but if I am to be defeated, there's no one to +whom I'd sooner surrender the "victor's laurels" +than to you.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> And I can heartily say the same of you; +but we must both look out. John Ray told the boys +yesterday he was bound to have the highest mark.</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> I don't fear him.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> But he's a good declaimer, Charley.</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> I'll acknowledge that; but you know +he's a terrible fellow for putting off study until the +last moment. It was only yesterday morning Master +Jones decided to have declamation to-day. The +only time we had to prepare was yesterday noon, +last night, and this morning.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>[page 166]</span> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> Time enough, Charley.</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> Certainly. But I know John Ray hasn't +employed it. Yesterday noon he went boating; last +night I'm afraid he visited Hopkins's melon patch; +and this morning I saw him from my window playing +ball.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> Then we've not much to fear from him; +but here he is, puffing like a porpoise.</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">John Ray, l.</span>, <i>with a book.</i></p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Hallo, boys! what's the time?</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> Eighteen minutes of nine. All ready +for the declamation?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Not yet; there's time enough.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> Time enough! What have you selected?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> "Tell's Address." I'm going to pitch +into it now. I can do it in eighteen minutes.</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> Why, you haven't left it till now?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Of course I have. Time enough, I tell +you. I've got a locomotive memory, you know. +None of your slow coaches. I shall only have to +read it over two or three times.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> But why didn't you take it up before?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> What's the use? I went boating yesterday; +and last night I went—somewhere else.</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> Yes! you took a <i>melon</i>choly walk. +Hey, John?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> What do you mean by that?</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> No matter. You'd better study Tell's +Address, if you expect to be ready by nine o'clock.</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> So I had. Well, you run along, and let +me have this place to myself. It's a quiet place. +So good by. I'll see you by nine o'clock, with Tell's +Address perfect.</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> Well, good luck to you. Come Ralph.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> I say, Ray; what's the proverb about +the "thief of time"?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>[page 167]</span> + +<p><i>John.</i> Who do you call a thief?</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> A slow coach, that will rob you of your +laurels spite of your locomotive memory. Come +along Charley.</p> +<p class="indright"> +[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="sc">Charley</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Ralph r.</span></p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Now, who told them I was after melons +last night. (<i>Opens book.</i>) "Tell's Address." +Won't I astonish those lads! What's the use of +wasting time in study before it's needed? (<i>Reads.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Mr. Hanks, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Mr. Hanks.</i> Look here, boy; where's Mr. +Simmons's house?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> O, bother! Over by the mill.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> Hey?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Over by the mill.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> Over that hill? Good gracious! You +don't mean I've got to travel as far as that, do you, +in the hot sun?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> No, no; it's only a little ways.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> Only a little blaze! It's an awful hot +morning.</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> O, dear! this old fellow is as deaf as a +post. (<i>Very loud.</i>) Mr.—Simmons—lives—down—by—the—mill.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> O, he does! Why didn't you say so +before? Down that way? (<i>Points</i> <span class="sc">r.</span>)</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> (<i>Loud.</i>) Yes! To—the—right! That—old—wooden—one—ahead!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> Who do you call an old wooden head?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> O, dear! I never shall get that piece. +You don't understand. I—said—wooden—house.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> Hey?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> O, dear! O, dear! (<i>Points</i> <span class="sc">r.</span>) That's +Mr. Simmons's—house—down—there!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> O, yes. Thank you, thank you. I'm a +little hard of hearing.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>[page 168]</span> + +<p><i>John.</i> I see you are. Suffering from a cold?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> Hey?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> O, what a nuisance! Is it—from a cold +you—suffer?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> Old buffer, indeed! Be more respectful +to your elders, young man; more respectful.</p> + +<p class="indright">[<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">r.</span></p> + +<p><i>John.</i> I've got rid of him at last, and five minutes +gone. O, dear! (<i>Reads.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Mr. Hanks, r.</span></p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> Did you say right or left?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Good gracious! the man's back! To—the +right! To the right! Follow the stream.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> Hey?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Follow—the—stream—as—it—flows.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H.</i> Follow my nose! You're an impudent +scamp! I'll ask you no more questions.</p> +<p class="indright">[<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">r.</span></p> + +<p><i>John.</i> I hope you won't. This comes of trying +to do a good-natured act. O, dear! that address! + (<i>Reads.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">John Clod, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Clod.</i> I say, sonny; yer hain't seen nothin' of a +keow, have yer, here or hereabouts?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> No, I haven't seen no cow.</p> + +<p><i>Clod.</i> Well, don't git mad. It's plaguy strange +where that are keow has travelled tew. Brand new +keow dad brought hum from market yesterday. +What on airth shall I do? She's a brindle, short +horns. Yeou hain't seen her?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> No, I haven't seen her. I've seen no cows +or cattle of any kind. It's no use stopping here.</p> + +<p><i>Clod.</i> Well, I dunno what's to be did. Marm, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>[page 169]</span> +she dropped her bakin', and scooted one way; dad +quit ploughin', and scooted another; and I've been +scootin' every which way. Ain't heard a keow moo—mooing, +have yer?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> I don't believe there's a cow within forty +miles of here.</p> + +<p><i>Clod.</i> Sho! yer jokin' neow. Neow, see here; I +kinder think yeou dew know somethin' about that +keow. Jest tell me where she is, and I don't mind +ginning yer fo'pence.</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> I tell you again, I know nothing about +your cow. I'm studing my lesson; and if you don't +clear out and leave me in peace, I shall never get it.</p> + +<p><i>Clod.</i> Sho! Well, I don't want to hender ye, +but I should like to know what's become of that are +keow.</p> +<p class="indright"> +[<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">r.</span></p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Gone at last. Was ever a fellow so +plagued! I've only got eight minutes, and I must +study. (<i>Goes to back of stage, and walks up and +down, studying.</i>)</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Patsy Flinn, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> Begorra, it's a foine irrant I's on ony way. +It's all along iv thim watthermillons, bad luck to +'em! Slaping swately on my bid last night thinking +uv the bould b'ys that fit, blid, and run away from +Canady, I heerd a v'ice in the millon patch, "Here's +a bouncer, b'ys." Faix, didn't I lept out uv that +bid, and didn't I hurry on my clo'es, and didn't I +take a big shtick, and didn't I run fur the patch, and +didn't I find nobody? To be sure I did! So this +morning, Mr. Hopkins sinds me to the school-house +to find the b'ys that invadid the sacred retrait, which +is the millon-patch. But how will I find thim? +Begorra, I should know that v'ice; and I'll make +the whole school shtand up togither one by one and +shout, "Here's a bouncer!" that I will.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>[page 170]</span> + +<p><i>John.</i> (<i>Coming down</i> <span class="sc">r.</span> <i>of stage.</i>) Now let's see +how much I know. (<i>Declaims.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> By my sowl, that's the v'ice of my dr'ams!</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="outdent2"><i>John.</i></span> "I hold to you the hands you first beheld,</p> +<p>To show they still are free."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> Fray, is it, begorra! Ye'll not hould thim +long, me b'y!</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"><span class="outdent2"><i>John.</i></span> "Methinks I hear</p> +<p>A spirit in your echoes answer me."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> Begorra, ye'll soon hear an Irish echo ax +ye something else!</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="outdent2"><i>John.</i></span> "And bid your tenant welcome to his home</p> +<p>again!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> Begorra, you're wilcome to no more watermillons, +ye'll find!</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i12"><span class="outdent2"><i>John.</i></span> "Ye guards of Liberty!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> Ye little blackguard!</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="outdent2"><i>John.</i></span> "I'm with you once again! I hold my hands to you,</p> +<p>To show they still are free!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> Begorra, they're stained with watermillons, +sure!</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"><span class="outdent2"><i>John.</i></span> "I rush to you,</p> +<p>As though I could embrace you!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center1">(<i>Runs into</i> <span class="sc">Patsy's</span> <i>arms.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> Come on, I'm waiting for you! O, you +blackguard! O, yes spalpeen! I've got yes!</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Who are you? What do you want? Let +me go!</p> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> Niver! Ye must go along wid me, my +fine lad; there's a bill a waiting for you at farmer +Hopkins's.</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Farmer Hopkins! But I shall be late for +school.</p> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> O, niver mind the school. You'll get a +little uv it there, from a nice big cowhide.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>[page 171]</span> + +<p><i>John.</i> Let me go, I say!</p> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> Quit your howling, and come along.</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> I won't. Help! Help! Help!</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Charley</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Ralph, r.</span></p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> What's the matter, Ray?</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> Hallo, Patsy! What's to pay now?</p> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> A small bill for watermillons, Master +Ralph.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> O, I see; you're found out, Ray!</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Well, I wan't the only one in the patch +last night.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> But you're the only one found out; so you +must take the consequences.</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> Master Jones sent us to look for you; +it's five minutes after nine.</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> O, dear, what's to become of me!</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> You must get to school at once. Patsy, +I'll be answerable for John Ray's appearance at +Farmer Hopkins's after school. Won't that do?</p> + +<p><i>Patsy.</i> To be sure it will. I can depind upon +you, Master Ralph. But mind and cape an eye on +that chap; fur it's my opinion he's a little cracked; +he's bin ravin' about crags, and peaks, and liberty +like a full-blooded Fenian. I'll go home and practise +a bit wid that cowhide.</p> +<p class="indright"> +[<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span></p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> Well, John, got your piece?</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Got my piece? No. I've been bothered +to death!</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> You've been keeping company with the +"thief of time."</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> I'd like to know what you mean by that.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> I'll tell you. You should have studied +your piece yesterday noon; but, instead of that, you +went boating. You should have studied last night; +but instead of that, you got into a scrape, which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>[page 172]</span> +promises to make trouble for you; and this morning +you played ball instead of taking time for your work.</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> Well, I meant to have studied it yesterday, +but I thought I had plenty of time. I wanted a little +recreation.</p> + +<p><i>Charley.</i> Yes, John; but you should look out for +the lessons first, and not neglect them. Come, let's +go to school.</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> And be at the foot of the class. I don't +like this.</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> You'll find a remedy for it in the copy-book.</p> + +<p><i>John.</i> What is it?</p> + +<p><i>Ralph.</i> A warning to the dilatory—"Procrastination +is the thief of time."</p> + +<p class="indright">[<i>Exeunt</i>, <span class="sc">R.</span></p> + +<p class="note1"><a id="footnote1" name="footnote1"></a><a class="footnote" href="#footnotetag1">*</a> +The dialogue can be lengthened, if necessary, by allowing +Charley and Ralph to declaim the whole of their pieces.</p> + + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page172a" id="page172a"></a> + +<h2>THE RAIN-DROPS.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>T. H. EVANS.</b></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +A</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>FARMER</b> had a field of corn of rather large extent,</p> +<p class="i6">In tending which, with anxious care, much time and toil he spent;</p> +<p>But after working long and hard, he saw, with grief and pain,</p> +<p>His corn began to droop and fade, because it wanted rain.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So sad and restless was his mind, at home he could not stop,</p> +<p>But to his field repaired each day to view his withering crop.</p> +<p>One day, when he stood looking up, despairing, at the sky,</p> +<p>Two little rain-drops in the clouds his sad face chanced to spy.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"I very sorry feel," said one, "to see him look so sad;</p> +<p>I wish I could do him some good; indeed, I should be glad.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>[page 173]</span> +<p>Just see the trouble he has had; and if it should not rain,</p> +<p>Why, all his toil, and time, and care he will have spent in vain."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"What use are you," cried number two, "to water so much ground?</p> +<p>You're nothing but a drop of rain, and could not wet one mound."</p> +<p>"What you have said," his friend replied, "I know is very true;</p> +<p>But I'm resolved to do my best, and more I cannot do.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I'll try to cheer his heart a bit: so now I'm off—here goes!"</p> +<p>And down the little rain-drop fell upon the farmer's nose.</p> +<p>"Whatever's that?" the farmer cried. "Was it a drop of rain?</p> +<p>I do believe it's come at last; I have not watched in vain."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now, when the second rain-drop saw his willing friend depart,</p> +<p>Said he, "I'll go as well, and try to cheer the farmer's heart."</p> +<p>But many rain-drops by this time had been attracted out,</p> +<p>To see and hear what their two friends were talking so about.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"We'll go as well," a number cried, "as our two friends have gone.</p> +<p>We shall not only cheer his heart, but water, too, his corn.</p> +<p>We're off! we're off!" they shout with glee, and down they fell so fast.</p> +<p>"O bless the Lord!" the farmer cried, "the rain has come at last."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The corn it grew and ripened well, and into food was dressed,</p> +<p>Because a little rain-drop said, "I'll try, and do my best."</p> +<p>This little lesson, children dear, you'll not forget I'm sure;</p> +<p>Try, do your best, do what you can—angels can do no more.</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>[page 174]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page174a" id="page174a"></a> + +<h2>THE SCOLDING OLD DAME.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>HERE</b> once was a toper—I'll not tell his name—</p> +<p class="i4">Who had for his comfort a scolding old dame;</p> +<p>And often and often he wished himself dead,</p> +<p>For, if drunk he came home, she would beat him to bed.</p> +<p>He spent all his evenings away from his home,</p> +<p>And, when he returned, he would sneakingly come</p> +<p>And try to walk straightly, and say not a word—</p> +<p>Just to keep his dear wife from abusing her lord;</p> +<p>For if he dared say his tongue was his own,</p> +<p>'Twould set her tongue going, in no gentle tone,</p> +<p>And she'd huff him, and cuff him, and call him hard names,</p> +<p>And he'd sigh to be rid of all scolding old dames.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It happened, one night, on a frolic he went,</p> +<p>He stayed till his very last penny was spent;</p> +<p>But how to go home, and get safely to bed,</p> +<p>Was the thing on his heart that most heavily weighed.</p> +<p>But home he must go; so he caught up his hat,</p> +<p>And off he went singing, by this and by that,</p> +<p>"I'll pluck up my courage; I guess she's in bed.</p> +<p>If she a'nt, 'tis no matter, I'm sure. Who's afraid?"</p> +<p>He came to his door; he lingered until</p> +<p>He peeped, and he listened, and all seemed quite still,</p> +<p>In he went, and his wife, sure enough, was in bed!</p> +<p>"Oh!" says he, "it's just as I thought. Who's afraid?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He crept about softly, and spoke not a word;</p> +<p>His wife seemed to sleep, for she never e'en stirred!</p> +<p>Thought he, "For <i>this</i> night, then, my fortune is made:</p> +<p>For my dear, scolding wife is asleep! Who's afraid?"</p> +<p>But soon he felt thirsty; and slyly he rose,</p> +<p>And, groping around, to the table he goes,</p> +<p>The pitcher found empty, and so was the bowl,</p> +<p>The pail, and the tumblers—she'd emptied the whole!</p> +<p>At length, in a corner, a vessel he found!</p> +<p>Says he, "Here's something to drink, I'll be bound!"</p> +<p>And eagerly seizing, he lifted it up—</p> +<p>And drank it all off in one long, hearty sup!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>[page 175]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It tasted so queerly; and what could it be?</p> +<p>He wondered. It neither was water nor tea!</p> +<p>Just then a thought struck him and filled him with fear:</p> +<p>"Oh! it must be the poison for rats, I declare!"</p> +<p>And loudly he called on his dear, sleeping wife,</p> +<p>And begged her to rise; "for," said he, "on my life</p> +<p>I fear it was <i>poison</i> the bowl did contain.</p> +<p><i>Oh dear! yes</i>, it <i>was</i> poison; I now feel the pain!"</p> +<p>"And what made you dry, sir?" the wife sharply cried.</p> +<p>"'Twould serve you just right if from poison you died;</p> +<p>And you've done a <i>fine</i> job, and you'd now better march,</p> +<p><i>For just see, you brute, you have drunk all my starch!</i>"</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page175a" id="page175a"></a> + +<h2>THE GREEN GOOSE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +M</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>R.</b> Bogardus "gin a treat,"</p> +<p class="i6">And a green goose, best of birds to eat,</p> +<p>Delicious, savory, fat and sweet,</p> +<p>Formed the dish the guests to greet;</p> +<p class="i4">But such, we know,</p> +<p class="i4">Is small for a "blow,"</p> +<p class="i4">And many times around won't go;</p> +<p>So Mr. Bogardus chanced to reflect,</p> +<p>And with a wisdom circumspect,</p> +<p>He sent round cards to parties select,</p> +<p>Some six or so the goose to dissect,</p> +<p class="i4">The day and hour defining;</p> +<p>And then he laid in lots of things,</p> +<p>That might have served as food for kings,</p> +<p>Liquors drawn from their primal springs,</p> +<p>And all that grateful comfort brings</p> +<p class="i4">To epicures in dining.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But Mr. Bogardus's brother Sim,</p> +<p>With moral qualities rather dim,</p> +<p>Copied the message sent to him,</p> +<p class="i4">In his most clerkly writing,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>[page 176]</span> +<p>And sent it round to Tom, and Dick,</p> +<p>And Harry, and Jack, and Frank, and Nick,</p> +<p>And many more, to the green goose "pick"</p> +<p class="i4">Most earnestly inviting;</p> +<p>He laid it on the green goose thick,</p> +<p class="i4">Their appetites exciting.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>'Twas dinner time by the Old South Clock;</p> +<p>Bogardus waited the sounding knock</p> +<p>Of friends to come at the moment, "chock,"</p> +<p>To try his goose, his game, his hock,</p> +<p>And hoped they would not dally;</p> +<p>When one, and two, and three, and four,</p> +<p>And running up the scale to a score,</p> +<p>And adding to it many more,</p> +<p>Who all their Sunday fixings wore,</p> +<p>Came in procession to the door,</p> +<p>And crowded in on his parlor floor,</p> +<p>Filling him with confusion sore,</p> +<p>Like an after-election rally!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Gentlemen," then murmured he,</p> +<p>"To what unhoped contingency</p> +<p>Am I owing for this felicity,</p> +<p>A visit thus unexpected?"</p> +<p>Then they held their cards before his eyes,</p> +<p>And he saw, to his infinite surprise,</p> +<p>That some sad dog had taken a rise</p> +<p>On him, and his hungry friends likewise,</p> +<p class="i4">And <i>whom</i> he half suspected;</p> +<p>But there was Sim,</p> +<p>Of morals dim,</p> +<p>With a face as long, and dull, and grim,</p> +<p class="i4">As though <i>he</i> the ire reflected.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then forth the big procession went,</p> +<p>With mirth and anger equally blent;</p> +<p>To think they didn't get the scent</p> +<p>Of what the cursed missive meant</p> +<p class="i4">Annoyed some of 'em deeply;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>[page 177]</span> +<p>They felt they'd been caught by a green goose bait,</p> +<p>And plucked and skinned, and then, light weight,</p> +<p class="i4">Had been sold very cheaply.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> + +<p class="i12"><b>MORAL.</b></p> + + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Keep your weather eye peeled for trap,</p> +<p>For we never know just what may hap,</p> +<p class="i4">Nor if we shall be winners;</p> +<p>Remembering that one green goose</p> +<p>Will be of very little use</p> +<p class="i4">'Mongst twenty hungry sinners.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page177a" id="page177a"></a> + +<h2>MIGRATORY BONES,<a id="footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>*</sup></a></h2> + +<h4>SHOWING THE VAGABONDISH TENDENCY OF BONES <br />THAT ARE LOOSE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +W</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>E</b> all have heard of Dr. Redman,</p> +<p class="i6">The man in New York who deals with dead men,</p> +<p class="i6">Who sits at a table,</p> +<p class="i6">And straightway is able</p> +<p>To talk with the spirits of those who have fled, man!</p> +<p class="i6">And gentles and ladies</p> +<p class="i6">Located in Hades,</p> +<p>Through his miraculous mediation,</p> +<p class="i6">Declare how they feel,</p> +<p class="i6">And such things reveal</p> +<p>As suits their genius for impartation.</p> +<p>'Tis not with any irreverent spirit</p> +<p>I give the tale, or flout it, or jeer it;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>[page 178]</span> +<p class="i6">For many good folk</p> +<p class="i6">Not subject to joke</p> +<p>Declare for the fact that they both see and hear it.</p> +<p class="i6">It comes from New York, though,</p> +<p class="i6">And it might be hard work, though,</p> +<p>To bring belief to any point near it.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Now this Dr. Redman,</p> +<p class="i6">Who deals with dead men,</p> +<p>Once cut up a fellow whose spirit had fled, man,</p> +<p class="i6">Who (the fellow) perchance</p> +<p class="i6">Had indulged in that dance</p> +<p>Performed at the end of a hempen thread, man;</p> +<p class="i6">And the cut-up one,</p> +<p class="i6">(A sort of a gun!)</p> +<p>Like Banquo, though he was dead, wasn't done,</p> +<p>Insisted in very positive tones</p> +<p>That he'd be ground to calcined manure,</p> +<p class="i6">Or any other evil endure,</p> +<p>Before he'd give up his right to his bones!</p> +<p>And then, through knocks, the resolute dead man</p> +<p>Gave his bones a bequest to Redman.</p> +<p class="i6">In Hartford, Conn.,</p> +<p class="i6">This matter was done,</p> +<p>And Redman the bones highly thought on,</p> +<p class="i6">When, changed to New York</p> +<p class="i6">Was the scene of his work,</p> +<p>In conjunction with Dr. Orton.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now mark the wonder that here appears:</p> +<p>After a season of months and years,</p> +<p class="i6">Comes up again the dead man,</p> +<p>Who in a very practical way,</p> +<p>Says he'll bring his bones some day,</p> +<p class="i6">And give them again to Redman.</p> +<p class="i6">When, sure enough</p> +<p class="i6">(Though some that are rough</p> +<p class="i6">Might call the narrative "devilish tough"),</p> +<p class="i6">One charming day</p> +<p class="i6">In the month of May,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>[page 179]</span> +<p>As Orton and Redman walked the street</p> +<p class="i6">Through the severing air,</p> +<p class="i6">From they knew not where,</p> +<p class="i6">Came a positive bone, all bleached and bare.</p> +<p>That dropped at the doctor's wondering feet!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then the sprightly dead man</p> +<p class="i6">Knocked out to Redman</p> +<p>The plan that lay in his ghostly head, man:</p> +<p class="i6">He'd carry the freight,</p> +<p class="i6">Unheeding its weight;</p> +<p>They needn't question how, or about it;</p> +<p class="i6">But they might be sure</p> +<p class="i6">The bones he'd procure</p> +<p>And not make any great bones about it.</p> +<p>From that he made it a special point</p> +<p>Each day for their larder to furnish a joint!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>From overhead, and from all around,</p> +<p>Upon the floor, and upon the ground,</p> +<p class="i8">Pell-mell,</p> +<p class="i8">Down fell</p> +<p class="i6">Low bones, and high bones,</p> +<p class="i6">Jaw bones, and thigh bones,</p> +<p>Until the doctors, beneath their power,</p> +<p>Ducked like ducks in a thunder-shower!</p> +<p class="i6">Armfuls of bones,</p> +<p class="i6">Bagfuls of bones,</p> +<p class="i6">Cartloads of bones,</p> +<p class="i6">No end to the multitudinous bones,</p> +<p>Until, forsooth, this thought gained head, man,</p> +<p>That this invisible friend, the dead man,</p> +<p class="i6">Had chartered a band</p> +<p class="i6">From the shadowy land,</p> +<p class="i6">Who had turned to work with a busy hand,</p> +<p>And boned all their bones for Dr. Redman!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now, how to account for all the mystery</p> +<p>Of this same weird and fantastical history?</p> +<p class="i6">That is the question</p> +<p class="i6">For people's digestion,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>[page 180]</span> +<p>And calls aloud for instant untwistery!</p> +<p class="i6">Of this we are certain,</p> +<p class="i6">By this lift of the curtain,</p> +<p>That still they're alive for work or enjoyment,</p> +<p class="i6">Though I must confess</p> +<p class="i6">That I scarcely can guess</p> +<p>Why they don't choose some useful employment.</p> + </div> </div> + + <p class="note1"><a id="footnote2" name="footnote2"></a><a class="footnote" href="#footnotetag2">*</a> + Dr. Redman, of New York, was a noted medium, and it +was said that, for a while, wherever he might be, bones would +be dropped all about him, to the confusion and wonder of +everybody. These bones, he said, were brought him by a +spirit, whose bones were of no further use to him.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page180a" id="page180a"></a> + +<h2>THE RED CHIGNON.</h2> + +<h4>(FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY.)</h4> + + +<h4>CHARACTERS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<table summary="pupils" style="border-collapse: collapse;"> +<tr> + <td> + <span class="sc">Miss Priscilla Precise</span>,<br /> + </td> + <td><span style="font-size: 2.5em;">{</span></td> + <td>Principal of a genteel Boarding<br /> + School for Young Ladies.</td> +</tr> +</table> + + <table summary="pupils" style="border-collapse: collapse; margin-top: -1em;"> +<tr> + <td><br style="line-height: 65%" /><span class="sc">Hetty Gray</span>,<br /> + <span class="sc">Fanny Rice</span>,<br /> + <span class="sc">Lizzie Bond</span>,<br /> + <span class="sc">Hannah Jones</span>, + </td> + <td><span style="font-size: 4.5em;">}</span></td> + <td>Pupils.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. Lofty</span>, a fashionable Lady.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center1"><span class="sc">Scene</span>.—<i>Parlor in</i> <span class="sc">Miss Precise's</span> <i>Establishment.</i></p> + +<p class="center1"> <i>Piano</i> <span class="sc">R.</span>, <i>Lounge</i> <span class="sc">L.</span>, <i>Chairs</i> <span class="sc">C.</span></p> + +<p class="center1"> <i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Hetty, Fanny</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Lizzie</span>, <span class="sc">R.</span>, +<i>laughing.</i></p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> O, such a fright!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> Such a stupid!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> I never saw such a ridiculous figure in the +whole course of my life!</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> I should think she came from the back-woods.</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> Who is she, any way?</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> She's the daughter of the rich Mr. Jones, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[page 181]</span> +a man, who, three years ago, was the proprietor of a +very small saw-mill away down east. He managed +to scrape together a little money, which he invested +in certain railroad stocks, which nobody thought +would ever pay. They did, however, and he has, no +doubt to his own astonishment, made a great deal of +money.</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> And that accounts for Miss Precise's partiality. +Well, I'm not going to associate myself with +her; and I mean to write to father this very day, +and tell him to take me home. She dresses so +ridiculously!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> And talks so horridly!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> And plays so wretchedly!</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> O, girls, don't you think I caught her at +the piano this morning playing Yankee Doodle and +whistling an accompaniment!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> Whistling!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Good gracious! what would Miss Precise +say. If there's anything she forbids, it's whistling.</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Yes, and such a reader! I heard her +reciting Longfellow's Excelsior; and such reading, +and such gestures! (<i>Recites.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"The shades of night were falling fast,</p> +<p>As through an All-pine village past—"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center1">(<i>All laugh.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> O, it's ridiculous!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> And then her dress! O, girls, I've made +a discovery!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> What is it? What is it?</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> O, do tell us!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Well, then, you must be secret.</p> + +<p><i>Fanny and Hetty.</i> Of course, of course!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Well, yesterday, at just twelve o'clock, I +was in the hall; the door-bell rang; I opened it; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[page 182]</span> +there was a box for Miss Hannah Jones; I took it; +I carried it to her room; I opened—</p> + +<p><i>Fanny and Hetty.</i> The box?</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> The door; she wasn't there. I put it on +the table; it slipped off; the cover rolled off; and +such a sight!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> What was it?</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> O, do tell us!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Four—great—red—</p> + +<p><i>Fanny and Hetty.</i> What? What?</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Chignons!</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Chignons? Why, Miss Precise has forbidden +our wearing them.</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> O, it's horrible!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Ain't it? And I did want one so bad!</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> But she cannot wear them.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> We shall see! Now comes Miss Precise's +trial. She has taken Hannah Jones because her +father is rich. She worships money; but if there is +anything she hates, it is chignons. If she can stand +this test, it will be the best thing in the world for us. +Then we'll all have them.</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Of course we will.</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> But I don't like the idea of having such +an interloper here. She's no company for us.</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Miss Precise, l.</span> <i>She stands behind the +Girls with folded arms.</i></p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Indeed she isn't! I think Miss Precise is +real mean to allow her to stay.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> She'd better go where she belongs,—among +the barbarians!</p> + +<p><i>Miss Precise.</i> And pray, whom are you consigning +to a place among the barbarians, young ladies?</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Good gracious!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> O, dear! O, dear!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[page 183]</span> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> O, who'd have thought!</p> + +<p class="indright">(<i>They separate</i>, <span class="sc">Hetty</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="sc">Fanny, l., Lizzie, r., Miss Precise, c.</span>)</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Speak, young ladies; upon whom has +your dread anathema been bestowed?</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Well, Miss Precise, if I must tell, it's that +hateful new pupil, Miss Jones. I detest her.</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> I can't abide her.</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> She's horrible!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> So awkward!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> Talks so badly!</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> And dresses so ridiculously!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> If she stays here, I shan't!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> Nor I.</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Nor I.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Young ladies, are you pupils of the finest +finishing-school in the city? Are you being nursed +at the fount of learning? Are you being led in the +paths of literature by my fostering hands?</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Don't know. S'pose so.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> S'pose so! What language! S'pose +so! Is this the fruit of my teaching? Young ladies, +I blush for you!—you, who should be the patterns of +propriety! Let me hear no more of this. Miss +Jones is the daughter of one of the richest men in +the city, and, as such, she should be respected by +you.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> She's a low, ignorant girl.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Miss Bond!</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> With arms like a windmill.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Miss Gray!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> A voice like a peacock.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Miss Rice!</p> + +<p><i>Hetty, Lizzie, and Fanny.</i> O, she's awful!</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Young ladies! I'm astonished! I'm +shocked! I'm thunderstruck! Miss Jones is my +pupil. She is your associate. As such, you will +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>[page 184]</span> +respect her. Let me hear no more of this. Go to +your studies. I highly respect Miss Jones. Imitate +her. She's not given to conspiracies. She's not +forever gossiping. Be like her, and you will deserve +my respect. To your studies. Miss Jones is a +model for your imitation.</p> +<p class="indright">[<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Did you ever!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> No, I never!</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> A model for imitation! Girls, we'll have +some fun out of this. Imitate Miss Jones! I only +hope she'll put on one of her chignons.</p> +<p class="indright">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Hannah Jones, r.</span>, <i>extravagantly dressed, +with a red chignon, followed by</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. Lofty</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> Come right in, marm; this is our +setting-room, where we receive callers. Take a seat.</p> + +<p class="center">(<span class="sc">Mrs. Lofty</span> <i>sits on lounge</i>.)</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Lofty.</i> Will you please call your mistress at +once?</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> My mistress? Law, neow, I s'pose +yeou take me for a hired gal. Yeou make me laugh! +Why, my pa's richer than all the rest of 'em's pas +put together. I deon't look quite so scrumptious +as the rest o 'em, p'r'aps, but I'm one of the scholars +here.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> I beg your pardon. No offence was +intended.</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> Law, I don't mind it. Yeou see our +folks come from deown east, and we haven't quite +got the hang of rich folks yit. That's why I'm here +to git polished up. Miss Precise is the schoolmarm, +but she's so stiff, I don't expect she'll make much of +me. I do hate airs. She makes the girls tend tu +door, because she's too poor to keep help.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> Will you please speak to her? I have +not much time to spare, as this is my charity day.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[page 185]</span> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> Charity day! Pray, what's that?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> I devote one day in the week to visiting +poor people, and doing what I can to alleviate their +misfortunes.</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> Well, marm, that's real clever in you. +I do like to see rich folks look arter the poor ones. +Won't you please to let me help you? I don't +know the way among the poor yit, but I'm going +to find out. Here's my pocket-book; there's lots +uv money in it; and if you'll take and use it for the +poor folks, I'll be obleeged. (<i>Gives pocket-book.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> O, thank you, thank you! you are very +kind; I will use it, for I know just where it is needed. +Can you really spare it?</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> Spare it? Of course I can. I know +where to git lots more; and my pa says, 'What's +the use of having money, if you don't do good with +it?' Law, I forgot all about Miss Precise. You just +make yourself to home, and I'll call her. [<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> A rough diamond. She has a kind +heart. I hope she'll not be spoiled in the hands of +Miss Precise. (<i>Opens pocket-book.</i>) What a roll of +bills! I must speak to Miss Precise before I use her +money. She may not be at liberty to dispose of it in +this wholesale manner.</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Miss Precise, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> My dear Mrs. Lofty, I hope I have not +kept you waiting. (<i>Shakes hands with her, then +sits in chair</i>, <span class="sc">c.</span>)</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> O, no; though I'm in something of a +hurry. I called to ask you if you could take my +daughter as a pupil.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Well, I am rather full just now; and the +duties of instructor are so arduous, and I am so +feeble in health——</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[page 186]</span> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> O, don't let me add to your trials. I +will look elsewhere.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> No, no; you did not hear me out. I +was going to say I have decided to take but one +more pupil.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> What are the studies?</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> English branches, French, Italian, German, +and Spanish languages, and music; all taught +under my personal supervision.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> Quite an array of studies; almost too +much for one teacher.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Ah, Mrs. Lofty, the mind—the mind is +capable of great expansion; and to one gifted with +the power to lead the young in the flowery paths of +learning, no toil is too difficult. My school is select, +refined; nothing rough or improper is allowed to +mingle with the high-toned elements with which I +endeavour to form a fashionable education.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> I should like to see some of your pupils.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> O, certainly. You will take them unawares; +but I flatter myself you will not find them +unprepared. (<i>Strikes bell on piano.</i>)</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Fanny</span>, <i>dressed as before, but with large, +red chignon on her head.</i></p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> This is Miss Fanny Rice. Mrs. Lofty, +Fanny. There you see one of my pupils who has an +exquisite touch for the piano, a refined, delicate +appreciation of the sweetest strains of the great +masters. Fanny, my dear, take your place at the +piano, and play one of those pieces which you know +I most admire. (<span class="sc">Fanny</span> <i>sits at piano, plays Yankee +Doodle, whistling an accompaniment.</i>) What does +this mean? (<i>Turns and looks at</i> <span class="sc">Fanny</span>, <i>starts, +puts her eye-glass to her eye.—Aside.</i>) Heavens! +that child has one of those horrible chignons on her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[page 187]</span> +head!—(<i>Aloud.</i>) Miss Rice, why did you make +that selection?</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> (<i>Imitates</i> <span class="sc">Hannah's</span> <i>manner of speaking.</i>) + Cos I thought you'd like it.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> "Cos?" O, I shall die! And why did +you think I should like it?</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> Cos that's the way Hannah Jones does.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Send Miss Gray to me. (<i>Follows</i> +<span class="sc">Fanny</span> <i>to door.</i>) And take that flaming turban off +your head. I'll pay you for this!</p> +<p class="indright">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="sc">Fanny, l.</span></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> Your pupil is exceedingly patriotic in +her selection.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Yes; there's some mistake here. She's +evidently not on her good behaviour.</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Hetty Gray, l.</span>, <i>with red chignon.</i></p> + +<p>Ah, here's Miss Gray. Mrs. Lofty, Miss Gray. +She has a sweet voice, and sings sentimental +songs in a bewitching manner. Miss Gray, take +your place at the piano, and sing one of my +favourites.</p> + +<p>(<span class="sc">Hetty</span> <i>sits at piano, plays and sings.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Father and I went down to camp</p> +<p class="i2"> Along with Captain Goodin,</p> +<p> And there we saw the boys and girls</p> +<p class="i2"> As thick as hasty-puddin."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Stop! (<i>Looks at her through eye-glass.</i>) + She's got one of those hateful things on too,—chignons! +Is there a conspiracy? Miss Gray, who +taught you that song?</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Miss Hannah Jones, if you please.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Go back to your studies, and send Miss +Bond to me. (<i>Takes her by the ear, and leads her +to the door.</i>)</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[page 188]</span> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Ow! you hurt!</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Silence, miss! Take off that horrid +head-dress at once.</p> + <p class="indright" style="margin-top:-2.5em;"> + [<i>Exit</i>, <span class="sc">Hetty, L.</span></p> +<p style="margin-top:-1em;">Mrs. Lofty, how can I find words to express my +indignation at the conduct of my pupils? I assure +you, this is something out of the common course.</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Lizzie, L.</span>, <i>with red chignon.</i></p> + +<p>Here is one of my smartest pupils, Miss Bond. Mrs. +Lofty, Miss Bond. She particularly excels in reading. +Miss Bond, take a book from the piano and +read, something sweet and pathetic! something that +you think would suit me.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lizzie</span> <i>takes a position</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span>, <i>opens book, and reads, +in +imitation of</i> <span class="sc">Hannah's</span> <i>voice.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>What is it that salutes the light,</p> +<p>Making the heads of mortals bright,</p> +<p>And proves attractive to the sight?</p> +<p class="i6">My chignon.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Good gracious! is the girl mad?</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>What moves the heart of Miss Precise</p> +<p>To throw aside all prejudice,</p> +<p>And gently whisper, It is nice?</p> +<p class="i6">My chignon!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Chignon, indeed! Who taught you to +read in that manner?</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Hannah Jones.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> O, this is too bad! You, too, with one +of these horrid things on your head? (<i>Snatches it +off, and beats her on head with it.</i>) Back to your +room! You shall suffer for this!</p> +<p class="indright">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="sc">Lizzie, L.</span></p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[page 189]</span> +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> Excuse me, Miss Precise, but your pupils +all wear red chignons. Pray, is this a uniform you +have adopted in your school?</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> O, Mrs. Lofty, I'm dying with mortification! +Chignons! I detest them; and my positive +orders to my pupils are, never to wear them in the +house.</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> (<i>Outside</i>, <span class="sc">L.</span>) Wal, we'll see what Miss +Precise will say to this.</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Enters with a red chignon in each hand, followed +by</i> <span class="sc">Lizzie, Hetty</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Fanny</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Good gracious! More of these horrid +things!</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> Miss Precise, jest look at them! Here +these pesky girls have been rummaging my boxes, +and putting on my best chignons that pa sent me +only yesterday. Look at them! They're teetotally +ruined!</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Why, Miss Jones, you've got one on your +head now!</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> Of course I have. Have you got anything +to say against it?</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> O, no; only it don't match your hair.</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> What of that? Pa always goes for the +bright colours, and so do I.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Miss Precise, I thought pupils were forbidden +to wear them.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Well, yes—no—I must make exceptions. +Miss Jones has permission to wear them.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Then I want permission.</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> And so do I.</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> And so do I.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> First tell me what is the meaning of this +scene we have just had.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Scene? Why, didn't you tell us to take +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[page 190]</span> +Miss Jones as a model for imitation? Haven't we +done it?</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> But Miss Jones doesn't whistle.</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> Whistle? I bet I can. Want to hear +me?</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> No. She don't sing comic songs.</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> Yes, she does.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Yes, and she wears chignons. As we +must imitate her, and hadn't any of our own, we +appropriated hers.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Shame, shame! What will Mrs. Lofty +say?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> That she rather enjoyed it. I saw mischief +in their eyes as they came in. And now, +girls, I'm going to tell you what Miss Jones does +that you <i>don't</i> know. A short time ago she placed +in my hands her pocket-book, containing a large roll +of bills, to be distributed among the poor.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> Why, isn't she splendid?</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Why, she's "mag."</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> O, you dear old Hannah. (<i>Kisses her.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> I'm going to send my daughter here to +school, and I shall tell her to make all the friends +she can; but her first friend must be Hannah Jones.</p> + +<p><i>Hannah.</i> Well, I'm sure, I'm obleeged to you.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> O, Miss Precise, we are so sorry we +have acted so! Let us try again, and show Mrs. +Lofty that we have benefited by your instruction.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Not now. If Mrs. Lofty will call again, +we will try to entertain her. I see I was in the +wrong to give you such general directions. I say +now, imitate Hannah Jones—her warm heart, her +generous hand.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L.</i> And help her, by your friendship, to +acquire the knowledge which Miss Precise so ably +dispenses.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> We will, we will.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[page 191]</span> +<p><i>Miss P.</i> Only, ladies, avoid whistling.</p> + +<p><i>Hetty.</i> Of course, of course.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> And comic songs!</p> + +<p><i>Fanny.</i> O, certainly.</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> And there is one more thing we shall be +sure to avoid.</p> + +<p><i>Miss P.</i> What is that?</p> + +<p><i>Lizzie.</i> The wearing of red chignons.</p> +<p class="indright">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page191a" id="page191a"></a> + +<h2>THE KNIFE-GRINDER.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>GEORGE CANNING.</b></p> + +<h4>FRIEND OF HUMANITY.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +N</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>EEDY</b> Knife-grinder! whither are you going?</p> +<p class="i6">Rough is the road,—your wheel is out of order,—</p> +<p>Bleak blows the blast; your hat has got a hole in 't,</p> +<p class="i16"> So have your breeches!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Weary Knife-grinder! little think the proud ones,</p> +<p>Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike-</p> +<p>Road, what hard work 't is crying all day 'Knives and</p> +<p class="i16"> Scissors to grind O!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Tell me, Knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives?</p> +<p>Did some rich man tyrannically use you?</p> +<p>Was it the squire? or parson of the parish?</p> +<p class="i16"> Or the attorney?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Was it the squire, for killing of his game? or</p> +<p>Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining?</p> +<p>Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little</p> +<p class="i16"> All in a lawsuit?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>(Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine?)</p> +<p>Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids,</p> +<p>Ready to fall as soon as you have told your</p> +<p class="i16"> Pitiful story.</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[page 192]</span> + + +<h4>KNIFE-GRINDER.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir,</p> +<p>Only last night, a drinking at the Chequers,</p> +<p>This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were</p> +<p class="i16"> Torn in a scuffle.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Constables came up for to take me into</p> +<p>Custody; they took me before the justice;</p> +<p>Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish-</p> +<p class="i16"> Stocks for a vagrant.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I should be glad to drink your Honor's health in</p> +<p>A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence;</p> +<p>But for my part, I never love to meddle</p> +<p class="i16"> With politics, sir.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<h4>FRIEND OF HUMANITY.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I give thee sixpence! I will see thee hang'd first,—</p> +<p>Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance—</p> +<p>Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,</p> +<p class="i16"> Spiritless outcast!</p> + </div> </div> + +<blockquote>[Kicks the Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a +transport of enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.]</blockquote> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page192a" id="page192a"></a> + +<h2>PREACHING TO THE POOR.</h2> + + +<p class="center"> +Father Taylor once said, "'Tis of no use to preach to empty +stomachs." +</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>HE</b> parson preached in solemn way,</p> +<p class="i4">—A well-clad man on ample pay,—</p> +<p>And told the poor they were sinners all,</p> +<p>Depraved and lost by Adam's fall;</p> +<p>That they must repent, and save their souls.</p> +<p>A hollow-eyed wretch cried, "<i>Give us coals!</i>"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>[page 193]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then he told of virtue's pleasant path,</p> +<p>And that of ruin and of wrath;</p> +<p>How the slipping feet of sinners fell</p> +<p>Quick on the downward road to h——,</p> +<p>To suffer for sins when they are dead;</p> +<p>And the hollow voice answered, "<i>Give us bread!</i>"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then he spoke of a land of love and peace,</p> +<p>Where all of pain and woe shall cease,</p> +<p>Where celestial flowers bloom by the way,</p> +<p>Where the light is brighter than solar day,</p> +<p>And there's no cold nor hunger there.</p> +<p>"Oh," says the voice, "<i>Give us clothes to wear!</i>"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then the good man sighed, and turned away,</p> +<p>For such depravity to pray,</p> +<p>That had cast aside the heavenly worth</p> +<p>For the transient and fleeting things of earth!</p> +<p>And his church that night, to his content,</p> +<p>Raised his salary fifty per cent.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page193a" id="page193a"></a> + +<h2>THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>BY C. B. SOUTHEY.</b></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>READ</b> softly—bow the head;</p> +<p class="i6">In reverent silence bow;</p> +<p>No passing bell doth toll,</p> +<p>Yet an immortal soul</p> +<p class="i2">Is passing now.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Stranger! however great,</p> +<p class="i2">With lowly reverence bow;</p> +<p>There's one in that poor shed,</p> +<p>One by that paltry bed,</p> +<p class="i2">Greater than thou.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>[page 194]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Beneath that beggar's roof,</p> +<p class="i2">Lo! Death doth keep his state;</p> +<p>Enter—no crowds attend;</p> +<p>Enter—no guards defend</p> +<p class="i2">This palace gate.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>That pavement, damp and cold,</p> +<p class="i2">No smiling courtiers tread;</p> +<p>One silent woman stands,</p> +<p>Lifting with meagre hands</p> +<p class="i2">A dying head.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>No mingling voices sound—</p> +<p class="i2">An infant wail alone:</p> +<p>A sob suppressed—again</p> +<p>That short, deep gasp, and then</p> +<p class="i2">The parting groan.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! change!—Oh! wondrous change!—</p> +<p class="i2">Burst are the prison bars—</p> +<p>This moment there, so low,</p> +<p>So agonized, and now</p> +<p class="i2">Beyond the stars!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! change—stupendous change!</p> +<p class="i2">There lies the soulless clod!</p> +<p>The sun eternal breaks—</p> +<p>The new immortal wakes</p> +<p class="i2">Wakes with his God!</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page194a" id="page194a"></a> + +<h2>A HORSE-CAR INCIDENT.</h2> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">N</span> +<b>O</b> matter what horse-car, but it happened that +I had to go a mile or two, and held up my +cane to attract the attention of the driver or the conductor +of one of them, which I did, after some +difficulty. I am bound to say it was not on the +Touchandgo road, for the officers employed there +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>[page 195]</span> +have an instinctive knowledge whether a man wishes +to ride or not, and indeed often by the magic of the +upraised finger they draw people in to ride who had +hardly any previous intention of it. I have been +attracted in this way, and found myself to my +astonishment, seated in the car, confident that I had +signified no disposition to do so. In this instance, +however, I would ride, and got in.</p> + +<p>There were the usual passengers in the car—the +respectable people going out of town, who were +reading the last editions of the papers, the women +who had been shopping, the servant girls who had +been in to visit their friends, feeling no interest in +one another, and all absorbed in their own reflections, +as I was. I was thinking seriously, when—my +eye was attracted by some glittering object on the +floor, beneath the opposite seat.</p> + +<p>Of course everybody is attracted by glitter. A +piece of glass in the moonlight may be a diamond, +and show is far ahead of substance in influencing +men, from the illusion which affects short-sighted +vision. Thus this glittering object. What was it?—a +diamond pin dropped by a former passenger? +No, it could not be this, because it appeared to be +round, and bigger than a pin stone could be. Could +it be a bracelet? No, for it was too small. I +directed my gaze more earnestly towards it in my +doubt, and saw that it was a <span class="sc">QUARTER</span>, bright and +sparkling with the freshness of new mint about it, so +it seemed.</p> + +<p>This I determined to make mine at the first chance, +for a woman was sitting very near it, and I dreaded +any confusion I might cause, by a sudden plunge, +through the motion of the cars; so, whistling at a +low breath, as if indifferent, but keeping my eye +upon the prize, I awaited the opportunity that should +insure me the coveted one-and-sixpence. It soon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>[page 196]</span> +came: the bell rang, and the lady opposite, with +her arms full of bundles, walked out, leaving the +object of my ardent regard more distinctly in view. +It seemed to me that every one in the car had an +eye on that quarter, which I felt was mine by right +of discovery, and which I was determined to have.</p> + +<p>As the coach started I rose and fairly tumbled over +into the just-vacated seat, taking care to drop in such +a way as to screen the glittering bait. I looked at +my fellow-passengers, and found that all were staring +at me, as though they were reading my secret. The +conductor had come inside the door, and was looking +at me, and a heavy gentleman on the same seat +with me leaned far out on his cane, so that he could +take in my whole person with his glance, as though +I were a piece of property on which he had to estimate. +I felt my face burn, and a general discomfort +seized me, as a man sometimes feels when he has +done a wrong or a foolish act; though I couldn't +think the act I was about to perform was wrong, +and no one could say it was foolish in one to try +to get a quarter of a dollar in this day of postal +currency. At length I stooped down as if to adjust +something about my boot, and slipped the object of +my solicitude into my hand, unseen, as I believed.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked the conductor.</p> + +<p>"What's what?" said I, with affected smartness.</p> + +<p>"What you just found," he persisted.</p> + +<p>"I was pulling my pants down over my boot," I +prevaricated.</p> + +<p>"That's all humbug," said he; "you found something +in the car, and it belongs to the company."</p> + +<p>"Prove that I found any thing," said I, angrily.</p> + +<p>"Young man," said the voice of the big man who +was leaning on his cane, still looking at me, "it +is as bad to lie about a thing as it is to steal. I +saw you pick something up, and to me it had the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>[page 197]</span> +appearance of money." He struck his cane on the +floor as he spoke, and grasped it firmer, as if to +clinch his remark.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the conductor; "and we don't want +nothing of the kind here, and what's more, we won't +have it; so hand over."</p> + +<p>"My fine fellow," said I, prepared for a crisis, +"I know my rights, and, without admitting that I +have found any thing, I contend that if I had, in +this public conveyance, which is as public as the +street to him who pays for a ride in it, that which +I find in it is mine after I have made due endeavour +to find out its owner. Money being an article impossible +to identify, unless it is marked, if I had +found it, it would have been mine—according to +Whately, Lycurgus, and Jew Moses."</p> + +<p>"Hang your authorities," said he; "I don't know +any thing about 'em, but this I know,—that money +belongs to the Touchandgo Horse Railroad Company, +and I'll have it. Ain't I right, Mr. Diggs?" +addressing a gentleman with glasses on, reading the +Journal.</p> + +<p>"I think you are," replied he, looking at me over +the top of his spectacles, as though he were shooting +from behind a breastwork; "I think the pint is +clear, and that it belongs to the company to advertise +it and find out the owner."</p> + +<p>"Well," I put in, "suppose they don't find the +owner; who has it?"</p> + +<p>"The company, I should think," said he, folding +his paper preparatory to getting out.</p> + +<p>"That's it," said the conductor, taking up the +thread as he put the passenger down; "and now I +want that money." He looked ugly.</p> + +<p>"What money?" I queried.</p> + +<p>"The money you picked up on the floor."</p> + +<p>I saw that I was in a place of considerable difficulty, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>[page 198]</span> +involving a row on one side and imputation of +villany on the other, and studied how to escape.</p> + +<p>"Well," said I, "if, in spite of the authorities I +have quoted, you insist upon my giving this up which +I hold in my hand,—the value of which I do not +know,—I shall protest against your act, and hold the +company responsible."</p> + +<p>"Responsible be——blowed," replied he, severely; +"shell out."</p> + +<p>The people in the car were much excited. The fat +man on the seat had risen up, though still in sitting +position, and balanced himself upon his toes to get a +better view. I unclosed my hand and deposited in +the conductor's a round piece of tin that had been +punched out by some tin-man and hammered smooth +bearing a close resemblance to money!</p> + +<p>The disappointment of every one was intense. The +conductor intimated that if he met me in society he +would give me my money's worth, the fat man muttered +something about my being an "imposture," +several lady passengers looked bluely at me, and +only one laughed heartily at the whole affair, as I +did. It was a queer incident.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page198a" id="page198a"></a> + +<h2>SOCRATES SNOOKS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +M</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>ISTER</b> Socrates Snooks, a lord of creation,</p> +<p class="i6">The second time entered the married relation:</p> +<p>Xantippe Caloric accepted his hand,</p> +<p>And they thought him the happiest man in the land,</p> +<p>But scarce had the honeymoon passed o'er his head,</p> +<p>When, one morning, to Xantippe, Socrates said,</p> +<p>"I think, for a man of my standing in life,</p> +<p>This house is too small, as I now have a wife:</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>[page 199]</span> +<p>So, as early as possible, carpenter Carey</p> +<p>Shall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Now, Socrates, dearest," Xantippe replied,</p> +<p>"I hate to hear every thing vulgarly <i>my'd</i>;</p> +<p>Now, whenever you speak of your chattels again,</p> +<p>Say, <i>our</i> cow house, <i>our</i> barn yard, <i>our</i> pig pen."</p> +<p>"By your leave, Mrs. Snooks, I will say what I please</p> +<p>Of <i>my</i> houses, <i>my</i> lands, <i>my</i> gardens, <i>my</i> trees."</p> +<p>"Say <i>our</i>," Xantippe exclaimed in a rage.</p> +<p>"I won't, Mrs. Snooks, though you ask it an age!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, woman! though only a part of man's rib,</p> +<p>If the story in Genesis don't tell a fib,</p> +<p>Should your naughty companion e'er quarrel with you,</p> +<p>You are certain to prove the best man of the two.</p> +<p>In the following case this was certainly true;</p> +<p>For the lovely Xantippe just pulled off her shoe,</p> +<p>And laying about her, all sides at random,</p> +<p>The adage was verified—"Nil desperandum."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Mister Socrates Snooks, after trying in vain,</p> +<p>To ward off the blows which descended like rain—</p> +<p>Concluding that valour's best part was discretion—</p> +<p>Crept under the bed like a terrified Hessian:</p> +<p>But the dauntless Xantippe, not one whit afraid,</p> +<p>Converted the siege into a blockade.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At last, after reasoning the thing in his pate,</p> +<p>He concluded 't was useless to strive against fate:</p> +<p>And so, like a tortoise protruding his head,</p> +<p>Said, "My dear, may we come out from under <i>our</i> bed?"</p> +<p>"Hah! hah!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Socrates Snooks,</p> +<p>I perceive you agree to my terms by your looks:</p> +<p>Now, Socrates—hear me—from this happy hour,</p> +<p>If you'll only obey me, I'll never look sour."</p> +<p>'T is said the next Sabbath, ere going to church,</p> +<p>He chanced for a clean pair of trousers to search:</p> +<p>Having found them, he asked, with a few nervous twitches,</p> +<p>"My dear, may we put on our new Sunday breeches?"</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>[page 200]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page200a" id="page200a"></a> + +<h2>PAUL REVERE'S RIDE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>H. W. LONGFELLOW.</b></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +L</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>ISTEN</b>, my children, and you shall hear</p> +<p class="i6">Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,</p> +<p>On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:</p> +<p>Hardly a man is now alive</p> +<p>Who remembers that famous day and year.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He said to his friend—"If the British march</p> +<p>By land or sea from the town to-night,</p> +<p>Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch</p> +<p>Of the North-Church tower, as a signal-light—</p> +<p>One if by land, and two if by sea;</p> +<p>And I on the opposite shore will be,</p> +<p>Ready to ride and spread the alarm</p> +<p>Through every Middlesex village and farm,</p> +<p>For the country-folk to be up and to arm."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then he said good-night, and with muffled oar</p> +<p>Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,</p> +<p>Just as the moon rose over the bay,</p> +<p>Where swinging wide at her moorings lay</p> +<p>The Somerset, British man-of-war:</p> +<p>A phantom ship, with each mast and spar</p> +<p>Across the moon, like a prison-bar,</p> +<p>And a huge, black hulk, that was magnified</p> +<p>By its own reflection in the tide.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street</p> +<p>Wanders and watches with eager ears,</p> +<p>Till in the silence around him he hears</p> +<p>The muster of men at the barrack-door,</p> +<p>The sound of arms and the tramp of feet,</p> +<p>And the measured tread of the grenadiers</p> +<p>Marching down to their boats on the shore.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then he climbed to the tower of the church,</p> +<p>Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>[page 201]</span> +<p>To the belfry-chamber overhead,</p> +<p>And startled the pigeons from their perch</p> +<p>On the sombre rafters, that round him made</p> +<p>Masses and moving shapes of shade—</p> +<p>Up the light ladder, slender and tall,</p> +<p>To the highest window in the wall,</p> +<p>Where he paused to listen and look down</p> +<p>A moment on the roofs of the quiet town,</p> +<p>And the moonlight flowing over all.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Beneath, in the church-yard, lay the dead</p> +<p>In their night-encampment on the hill,</p> +<p>Wrapped in silence so deep and still,</p> +<p>That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread</p> +<p>The watchful night-wind as it went</p> +<p>Creeping along from tent to tent,</p> +<p>And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"</p> +<p>A moment only he feels the spell</p> +<p>Of the place and the hour, the secret dread</p> +<p>Of the lonely belfry and the dead;</p> +<p>For suddenly all his thoughts are bent</p> +<p>On a shadowy something far away,</p> +<p>Where the river widens to meet the bay—</p> +<p>A line of black, that bends and floats</p> +<p>On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,</p> +<p>Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride,</p> +<p>On the opposite shore waited Paul Revere.</p> +<p>Now he patted his horse's side,</p> +<p>Now gazed on the landscape far and near,</p> +<p>Then impetuous stamped the earth,</p> +<p>And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;</p> +<p>But mostly he watched with eager search</p> +<p>The belfry-tower of the old North-Church,</p> +<p>As it rose above the graves on the hill,</p> +<p>Lonely, and spectral, and sombre, and still.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height,</p> +<p>A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>[page 202]</span> +<p>He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,</p> +<p>But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight</p> +<p>A second lamp in the belfry burns!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A hurry of hoofs in a village-street,</p> +<p>A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,</p> +<p>And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark</p> +<p>Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet:</p> +<p>That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,</p> +<p>The fate of a nation was riding that night;</p> +<p>And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,</p> +<p>Kindled the land into flame with its heat.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It was twelve by the village-clock,</p> +<p>When he crossed the bridge into Medford town,</p> +<p>He heard the crowing of the cock,</p> +<p>And the barking of the farmer's dog,</p> +<p>And felt the damp of the river-fog,</p> +<p>That rises when the sun goes down.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It was one by the village-clock,</p> +<p>When he rode into Lexington.</p> +<p>He saw the gilded weathercock</p> +<p>Swim in the moonlight as he passed,</p> +<p>And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,</p> +<p>Gazed at him with a spectral glare,</p> +<p>As if they already stood aghast</p> +<p>At the bloody work they would look upon.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It was two by the village-clock,</p> +<p>When he came to the bridge in Concord town.</p> +<p>He heard the bleating of the flock,</p> +<p>And the twitter of birds among the trees,</p> +<p>And felt the breath of the morning-breeze</p> +<p>Blowing over the meadows brown,</p> +<p>And one was safe and asleep in his bed</p> +<p>Who at the bridge would be first to fall,</p> +<p>Who that day would be lying dead,</p> +<p>Pierced by a British musket-ball.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>[page 203]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You know the rest. In the books you have read</p> +<p>How the British regulars fired and fled—</p> +<p>How the farmers gave them ball for ball,</p> +<p>From behind each fence and farmyard-wall,</p> +<p>Chasing the red-coats down the lane,</p> +<p>Then crossing the fields to emerge again</p> +<p>Under the trees at the turn of the road,</p> +<p>And only pausing to fire and load.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So through the night rode Paul Revere;</p> +<p>And so through the night went his cry of alarm</p> +<p>To every Middlesex village and farm—</p> +<p>A cry of defiance, and not of fear—</p> +<p>A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,</p> +<p>And a word that shall echo for evermore!</p> +<p>For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,</p> +<p>Through all our history, to the last,</p> +<p>In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need,</p> +<p>The people will waken and listen to hear</p> +<p>The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed.</p> +<p>And the midnight-message of Paul Revere.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page203a" id="page203a"></a> + +<h2>A PLEASURE EXERTION.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>MARIETTA HOLLEY.</b></p> + +<blockquote> +This humorous sketch is taken from a work entitled "My +Opinions and Betsey Bobbet's." +</blockquote> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">T</span> +<b>HEY</b> have been havin' pleasure exertions all summer +here to Jonesville. Every week a'most they +would go off on a exertion after pleasure, and Josiah +was all up in end to go too.</p> + +<p>That man is a well-principled man as I ever see; +but if he had his head he would be worse than any +young man I ever see to foller up pic-nics, and 4th of +Julys, and camp meetin's, and all pleasure exertions. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>[page 204]</span> +But I don't encourage him in it. I have said to +him, time and agin, "There is a time for everything, +Josiah Allen, and after anybody has lost all their +teeth, and every mite of hair on the top of their head, +it is time for 'em to stop goin' to pleasure exertions."</p> + +<p>But, good land! I might jest as well talk to the +wind. If that man should get to be as old as Mr. +Methusler, and be a goin' a thousand years old, he +would prick up his ears if he should hear of an +exertion. All summer long that man has beset me +to go to 'em, for he wouldn't go without me. Old +Bunker Hill himself hain't any sounder in principle +than Josiah Allen, and I have had to work head-work +to make excuses, and quell him down. But, last +week, the old folks was goin' to have one out on the +lake, on an island, and that man sot his foot down +that go he would.</p> + +<p>We was to the breakfast-table, a talkin' it over, +and says I, "I shan't go, for I am afraid of big +water any way."</p> + +<p>Says Josiah, "You are jest as liable to be killed in +one place as another."</p> + +<p>Says I, with a almost frigid air, as I passed him +his coffee, "Mebby I shall be drownded on dry land, +Josiah Allen; but I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>Says he, in a complainin' tone, "I can't get you +started onto a exertion for pleasure any way."</p> + +<p>Says I, in a almost eloquent way, "I don't believe +in makin' such exertions after pleasure. I don't +believe in chasin' of her up." Says I, "Let her come +of her own free will." Says I, "You can't catch her +by chasin' of her up, no more than you can fetch a +shower up, in a drewth, by goin' out doors, and running +after a cloud up in the heavens above you. Sit +down, and be patient; and when it gets ready, the +refreshin' rain-drops will begin to fall without none of +your help. And it is jest so with pleasure, Josiah +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>[page 205]</span> +Allen; you may chase her up over all the ocians +and big mountains of the earth, and she will keep +ahead of you all the time; but set down, and not +fatigue yourself a thinkin' about her, and like as +not she will come right into your house, unbeknown +to you."</p> + +<p>"Wal," says he, "I guess I'll have another griddlecake, +Samantha." And as he took it, and poured +the maple syrup over it, he added, gently but firmly, +"I shall go, Samantha, to this exertion, and I +should be glad to have you present at it, because +it seems jest, to me, as if I should fall overboard +durin' the day."</p> + +<p>Men are deep. Now that man knew that no +amount of religious preachin' could stir me up like +that one speech. For though I hain't no hand to +coo, and don't encourage him in bein' spoony at all, +he knows that I am wrapped almost completely up in +him. I went.</p> + +<p>We had got to start about the middle of the night, +for the lake was fifteen miles from Jonesville, and the +old horse bein' so slow, we had got to start a hour or +two ahead of the rest. I told Josiah that I had jest +as lives set up all night, as to be routed out at two +o'clock. But he was so animated and happy at the +idee of goin' that he looked on the bright side of +everything, and he said that we would go to bed before +dark, and get as much sleep as we commonly +did! So we went to bed, the sun an hour high. But +we hadn't more'n got settled down into the bed, when +we heard a buggy and a single wagon stop to the +gate, and I got up and peeked through the window, +and I see it was visitors come to spend the evenin'—Elder +Wesley Minkly and his family, and Deacon +Dobbins' folks. Josiah vowed that he wouldn't stir +one step out of that bed that night. But I argued +with him pretty sharp, while I was throwin' on my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>[page 206]</span> +clothes, and I finally got him started up. I hain't +deceitful, but I thought, if I got my clothes all on +before they came in, I wouldn't tell 'em that I had +been to bed that time of day. And I did get all +dressed up, even to my handkerchief pin. And I +guess they had been there as much as ten minutes +before I thought that I hadn't took my night-cap off. +They looked dretful curious at me, and I felt awful +meachin'. But I jest ketched it off, and never said +nothin'. But when Josiah came out of the bedroom, +with what little hair he has got standin' out in every +direction, no two hairs a layin' the same way, I up +and told 'em. I thought mebby they wouldn't stay +long. But Deacon Dobbins' folks seemed to be all +waked up on the subject of religion, and they proposed +we should turn it into a kind of a conference +meetin'; so they never went home till after ten +o'clock.</p> + +<p>It was most eleven o'clock when Josiah and me +got to bed agin. And then jest as I was gettin' into +a drowse, I heard the cat in the buttery, and I got up +to let her out. And that rousted Josiah up, and he +thought he heard the cattle in the garden, and he got +up and went out. And there we was a marchin' +round most all night. And if we would get into a +nap, Josiah would think it was mornin', and he +would start up and go out to look at the clock. I +lost myself once, for I dreampt that Josiah was a +droundin', and Deacon Dobbins was on the shore a +prayin' for him. It started me so, that I jest ketched +hold of Josiah and hollered. It skairt him awfully, +and says he, "What does ail you, Samantha? I +hain't been asleep before to-night, and now you have +rousted me up for good. I wonder what time it is?" +And then he got out of bed again, and went out and +looked at the clock. It was half-past one, and he +said "he didn't believe we had better go to sleep +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>[page 207]</span> +again for fear we would be too late for the exertion, +and he wouldn't miss that for nothin'."</p> + +<p>"Exertion," says I, in a awful cold tone; "I +should think we had had exertion enough for one +spell."</p> + +<p>But I got up at 2 o'clock, and made a cup of tea +as strong as I could, for we both felt beat out, worse +than if we had watched in sickness.</p> + +<p>But, as bad and wore out as Josiah felt bodily, he +was all animated in his mind about what a good time +he was a goin' to have. He acted foolish, and I told +him so. I wanted to wear my brown and black +gingham, and a shaker; but Josiah insisted that I +should wear a new lawn dress that he had brought +me home as a present, and I had got just made up. +So, jest to please him, I put it on, and my best +bonnet. And that man, all I could do and say, +would wear a pair of pantaloons I had been a makin' +for Thomas Jefferson. They was gettin' up a military +company in Thomas J.'s school, and these pantaloons +was white with a blue stripe down the sides, a +kind of uniform. Josiah took a awful fancy to 'em; +and, says he,</p> + +<p>"I will wear 'em, Samantha; they look so dressy."</p> + +<p>Says I, "They hain't hardly done. I was goin' to +stitch that blue stripe on the left leg on again. They +haint finished as they ought to be, and I would not +wear 'em. It looks vain in you."</p> + +<p>Says he, "I will wear 'em, Samantha. I will be +dressed up for once."</p> + +<p>I didn't contend with him. Thinks I, we are +makin' fools of ourselves by goin' at all, and if he +wants to make a little bigger fool of himself, I won't +stand in his light. And then I had got some +machine oil onto 'em, so I felt that I had got to +wash 'em any way, before Thomas J. took 'em to +school. So he put 'em on.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>[page 208]</span> + +<p>I had good vittles, and a sight of 'em. The basket +wouldn't hold 'em all. So Josiah had to put a bottle +of red rhaspberry jell into the pocket of his dress +coat, and lots of other little things, such as spoons, +and knives, and forks, in his pantaloons and breast +pockets. He looked like Captain Kidd, armed up to +the teeth, and I told him so. But, good land, he +would have carried a knife in his mouth if I had +asked him, he felt so neat about goin', and boasted +so, on what a splendid exertion it was going to be.</p> + +<p>We got to the lake about eight o'clock, being +about the first ones there; but they kep' a comin', +and before 10 o'clock we all got there. There was +about 20 old fools of us, when we got all collected +together. And about 10 o'clock we sot sail for the +island. Josiah havin' felt so animated and tickled +about the exertion, was worked up awfully when, +just after we had got well out onto the lake, the wind +took his hat off and blew it away. He had made up +his mind to look so pretty that day, and be so dressed +up, that it worked him up awfully. And then the +sun beat down onto him: and if he had had any hair +onto his head it would have seemed more shady. +But I did the best I could by him; I stood by him, +and pinned on his red bandanna handkerchief onto +his head. But as I was a fixin' it on, I see there was +something more than mortification that ailed him. +The lake was rough, and the boat rocked, and I see +he was beginning to be awful sick. He looked deathly. +Pretty soon I felt bad too. Oh, the wretchedness +of that time! I have enjoyed poor health considerable +in my life, but never did I enjoy so much +sickness, in so short a time, as I did on that pleasure +exertion to the island. I suppose our bein' up all +night a'most made it worse. When we reached the +island we was both weak as cats.</p> + +<p>I set right down on a stun, and held my head for a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>[page 209]</span> +spell, for it did seem as if it would split open. After +awhile I staggered up onto my feet, and finally I got +so I could walk straight, and sense things a little. +Then I began to take the things out of my dinner +basket. The butter had all melted, so we had to dip +it out with a spoon. And a lot of water had swashed +over the side of the boat, so my pies, and tarts, and +delicate cake, and cookies, looked awful mixed up, +but no worse than the rest of the company's did. But +we did the best we could, and begun to make preparations +to eat, for the man that owned the boat +said he knew it would rain before night, by the way +the sun scalded. There wasn't a man or a woman +there but what the perspiration jest poured down +their faces. We was a haggered and melancholy +lookin' set. There was a piece of woods a little ways +off, but it was up quite a rise of ground, and there +wasn't one of us but what had the rheumatiz, more +or less. We made up a fire on the sand, though it +seemed as if it was hot enough to steep the tea and +coffee as it was.</p> + +<p>After we got the fire started, I histed a umberell, +and sat down under it, and fanned myself hard, for I +was afraid of a sunstroke.</p> + +<p>Wal, I guess I had sat there ten minutes or more, +when all of a sudden I thought, Where is Josiah? I +hadn't seen him since we had got there. I riz right +up and asked the company, almost wildly, "If they +had seen my companion, Josiah?" They said "No, +they hadn't." But Celestine Wilkins' little girl, who +had come with her grandpa and grandma Gowdey, +spoke up, and says she, "I seen him a goin' off +towards the woods; he acted dreadfully strange, too, +he seemed to be a walkin' off sideways."</p> + +<p>"Had the sufferin's we had undergone made him +delirious?" says I to myself; and then I started off +on the run towards the woods, and old Miss Bobbet, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>[page 210]</span> +and Miss Gowdey, and Sister Minkley, and Deacon +Dobbins' wife, all rushed after me. Oh, the agony +of them 2 or 3 minutes, my mind so distracted with +forebodin's, and the perspiration a pourin' down. +But, all of a sudden, on the edge of the woods we +found him. Miss Gowdey weighed 100 pounds less +than me; had got a little ahead of me. He sat +backed up against a tree in a awful cramped position, +with his left leg under him. He looked dretful +uncomfortable, but when Miss Gowdey hollered out: +"Oh, here you be; we have been skairt about you; +what is the matter?" he smiled a dretful sick smile, +and says he: "Oh, I thought I would come out here +and meditate a spell. It was always a real treat to +me to meditate."</p> + +<p>Jest then I came up, a pantin' for breath, and as +the women all turned to face me, Josiah scowled at +me, and shook his fist at them 4 wimmen, and made +the most mysterious motions with his hands towards +'em. But the minute they turned 'round he smiled +in a sickish way, and pretended to go to whistlin'.</p> + +<p>Says I, "What is the matter, Josiah Allen? What +are you off here for?"</p> + +<p>"I am a meditatin', Samantha."</p> + +<p>The wimmen happened to be a lookin' the other +way for a minute, and he looked at me as if he would +take my head off, and made the strangest motions +towards 'em; but the minute they looked at him he +would pretend to smile that deathly smile.</p> + +<p>Says I, "Come, Josiah Allen, we're goin' to have +dinner right away, for we are afraid it will rain."</p> + +<p>"Oh, wal," says he, "a little rain, more or less, +hain't a goin' to hinder a man from meditatin'."</p> + +<p>I was wore out, and says I: "Do you stop meditatin' +this minute, Josiah Allen."</p> + +<p>Says he: "I won't stop, Samantha. I let you +have your way a good deal of the time; but when I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>[page 211]</span> +take it into my head to meditate, you hain't a goin' +to break it up."</p> + +<p>Says I: "Josiah Allen, come to dinner."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hain't hungry," says he. "The table will +probably be full. I had jest as leves wait."</p> + +<p>"Table full!" says I. "You know jest as well as +I do that we are eatin' on the ground. Do you come +and eat your dinner this minute."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do come," says Miss Bobbet.</p> + +<p>"Oh," says he, with that ghastly smile, a pretendin' +to joke; "I have got plenty to eat here, I can eat +muskeeters."</p> + +<p>The air was black with 'em; I couldn't deny it.</p> + +<p>"The muskeeters will eat you, more likely," says +I. "Look at your face and hands."</p> + +<p>"Yes, they have eat considerable of a dinner out +of me, but I don't begrech 'em. I hain't small +enough, I hope, to begrech 'em one meal."</p> + +<p>Miss Bobbet and the rest turned to go back, and +the minute we were alone he said:</p> + +<p>"Can't you bring 40 or 50 more wimmen up here? +You couldn't come here a minute without a lot of +other wimmen tied to your heels!"</p> + +<p>I began to see daylight, and then Josiah told me.</p> + +<p>It seems he had set down on that bottle of rhaspberry +jell. That blue stripe on the side wasn't hardly +finished, as I said, and I hadn't fastened my thread +properly; so when he got to pullin' at 'em to try +to wipe off the jell, the thread started, and bein' +sewed on a machine, that seam jest ripped right open +from top to bottom. That was what he had walked +off sideways towards the woods for. Josiah Allen's +wife hain't one to desert a companion in distress. I +pinned 'em up as well as I could, and I didn't say +a word to hurt his feelin's, only I jest said this to +him, as I was a fixin' 'em: "Josiah Allen, is this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" id="page212"></a>[page 212]</span> +pleasure?" Says I: "You was determined to +come."</p> + +<p>"Throw that in my face again, will you? What if +I wuz? There goes a pin into my leg. I should +think I had suffered enough without your stabbin' of +me with pins."</p> + +<p>"Wal, then, stand still, and not be a caperin' +round so. How do you suppose I can do anything +with you a tousin' round so?"</p> + +<p>"Wal, don't be so agrevatin', then."</p> + +<p>I fixed 'em as well as I could, but they looked +pretty bad, and then, there they was all covered with +jell, too. What to do I didn't know. But finally I +told him I would put my shawl onto him. So I +doubled it up corner-ways, as big as I could, so it +almost touched the ground behind, and he walked +back to the table with me. I told him it was best to +tell the company all about it, but he jest put his foot +down that he wouldn't, and I told him if he wouldn't +that he must make his own excuses to the company +about wearin' the shawl. So he told 'em that he +always loved to wear summer shawls; he thought it +made a man look so dressy.</p> + +<p>But he looked as if he would sink all the time he +was a sayin' it. They all looked dretful curious at +him, and he looked as meachin' as if he had stole a +sheep, and he never took a minute's comfort, nor I +nuther. He was sick all the way back to the shore, +and so was I. And jest as we got into our wagons +and started for home, the rain begun to pour down. +The wind turned our old umberell inside out in no +time. My lawn dress was most spilte before, and +now I give up my bunnet. And I says to Josiah:</p> + +<p>"This bunnet and dress are spilte, Josiah Allen, +and I shall have to buy some new ones."</p> + +<p>"Wal! wal! who said you wouldn't?" he snapped +out.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>[page 213]</span> + +<p>But it wore on him. Oh, how the rain poured +down. Josiah havin' nothin' but his handkerchief +on his head felt it more than I did. I had took a +apron to put on a gettin' dinner, and I tried to make +him let me pin it on to his head. But says he, +firmly:</p> + +<p>"I hain't proud and haughty, Samantha, but I +do feel above ridin' out with a pink apron on for a +hat."</p> + +<p>"Wal, then," says I, "get as wet as sop if you +had ruther."</p> + +<p>I didn't say no more, but there we jest sot and +suffered. The rain poured down, the wind howled +at us, the old horse went slow, the rheumatiz laid +holt of both of us, and the thought of the new bunnet +and dress was a wearin' on Josiah, I knew.</p> + +<p>After I had beset him about the apron, we didn't +say hardly a word for as much as 13 miles or so; +but I did speak once, as he leaned forward with the +rain a drippin' offen his bandanna handkerchief onto +his white pantaloons. I says to him in stern tones:</p> + +<p>"Is this pleasure, Josiah Allen?"</p> + +<p>He gave the old mare a awful cut, and says he: +"I'd like to know what you want to be so agrevatin' +for?"</p> + +<p>I didn't multiply any more words with him, only +as we drove up to our door-step, and he helped me +out into a mud puddle, I says to him:</p> + +<p>"Mebby you'll hear to me another time, Josiah +Allen?"</p> + +<p>And I'll bet he will. I hain't afraid to bet a ten-cent +bill that that man won't never open his mouth +to me again about a <span class="sc">Pleasure Exertion</span>.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>[page 214]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page214a" id="page214a"></a> + +<h2>SHAMUS O'BRIEN, THE BOLD BOY OF <br />GLINGALL—A TALE OF '98</h2> + +<p class="indright"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: The Author of this 1840 Poem was Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. Samuel Lover was the reciter."><b>BY SAMUEL LOVER.</b></ins></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +J</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>IST</b> afther the war, in the year '98,</p> +<p class="i4">As soon as the boys wor all scattered and bate,</p> +<p>'Twas the custom, whenever a pisant was got,</p> +<p>To hang him by thrial—barrin' sich as was shot.</p> +<p>There was trial by jury goin' on by daylight,</p> +<p>There was martial-law hangin' the lavins by night.</p> +<p>It's them was hard times for an honest gossoon:</p> +<p>If he missed in the judges—he'd meet a dragoon;</p> +<p>An' whether the sodgers or judges gev sentence,</p> +<p>The divil a much time they allowed for repentance,</p> +<p>An' it's many's the fine boy was then on his keepin'</p> +<p>Wid small share iv restin', or atin', or sleepin',</p> +<p>An' because they loved Erin, an' scorned to sell it,</p> +<p>A prey for the bloodhound, a mark for the bullet—</p> +<p>Unsheltered by night, and unrested by day,</p> +<p>With the heath for their barrack, revenge for their pay;</p> +<p>An' the bravest an' hardiest boy iv them all</p> +<p>Was <span class="sc">Shamus O'Brien</span>, from the town iv Glingall.</p> +<p>His limbs were well set, an' his body was light,</p> +<p>An' the keen-fanged hound had not teeth half so white;</p> +<p>But his face was as pale as the face of the dead,</p> +<p>And his cheek never warmed with the blush of the red;</p> +<p>An' for all that he wasn't an ugly young bye,</p> +<p>For the divil himself couldn't blaze with his eye,</p> +<p>So droll an' so wicked, so dark and so bright,</p> +<p>Like a fire-flash that crosses the depth of the night!</p> +<p>An' he was the best mower that ever has been,</p> +<p>An' the illigantest hurler that ever was seen,</p> +<p>An' his dancin' was sich that the men used to stare,</p> +<p>An' the women turn crazy, he done it so quare;</p> +<p>An' by gorra, the whole world gev it into him there.</p> +<p>An' it's he was the boy that was hard to be caught,</p> +<p>An' it's often he run, an' it's often he fought,</p> +<p>An' it's many the one can remember right well</p> +<p>The quare things he done: an' it's often I heerd tell</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>[page 215]</span> +<p>How he lathered the yeomen, himself agin four,</p> +<p>An' stretched the two strongest on old Galtimore.</p> +<p>But the fox must sleep sometimes, the wild deer must rest,</p> +<p>An' treachery prey on the blood iv the best;</p> +<p>Afther many a brave action of power and pride,</p> +<p>An' many a hard night on the mountain's bleak side,</p> +<p>An' a thousand great dangers and toils over past,</p> +<p>In the darkness of night he was taken at last.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now, <span class="sc">Shamus</span>, look back on the beautiful moon,</p> +<p>For the door of the prison must close on you soon,</p> +<p>An' take your last look at her dim lovely light,</p> +<p>That falls on the mountain and valley this night;</p> +<p>One look at the village, one look at the flood,</p> +<p>An' one at the sheltering, far distant wood;</p> +<p>Farewell to the forest, farewell to the hill,</p> +<p>An' farewell to the friends that will think of you still;</p> +<p>Farewell to the pathern, the hurlin' an' wake,</p> +<p>And farewell to the girl that would die for your sake,</p> +<p>An' twelve sodgers brought him to Maryborough jail,</p> +<p>An' the turnkey resaved him, refusin' all bail;</p> +<p>The fleet limbs wor chained, an' the sthrong hands wor bound,</p> +<p>An' he laid down his length on the cowld prison-ground,</p> +<p>An' the dreams of his childhood kem over him there</p> +<p>As gentle an' soft as the sweet summer air,</p> +<p>An' happy remembrances crowding on ever,</p> +<p>As fast as the foam-flakes dhrift down on the river,</p> +<p>Bringing fresh to his heart merry days long gone by,</p> +<p>Till the tears gathered heavy and thick in his eye.</p> +<p>But the tears didn't fall, for the pride of his heart</p> +<p>Would not suffer one drop down his pale cheek to start;</p> +<p>An' he sprang to his feet in the dark prison cave,</p> +<p>An' he swore with the fierceness that misery gave,</p> +<p>By the hopes of the good, an' the cause of the brave,</p> +<p>That when he was mouldering in the cold grave</p> +<p>His enemies never should have it to boast</p> +<p>His scorn of their vengeance one moment was lost;</p> +<p>His bosom might bleed, but his cheek should be dhry,</p> +<p>For undaunted he lived, and undaunted he'd die.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" id="page216"></a>[page 216]</span> +<p>Well, as soon as a few weeks was over and gone,</p> +<p>The terrible day iv the thrial kem on,</p> +<p>There was sich a crowd there was scarce room to stand,</p> +<p>An' sodgers on guard, an' dhragoons sword-in-hand;</p> +<p>An' the court-house so full that the people were bothered,</p> +<p>An' attorneys an' criers on the point iv bein' smothered;</p> +<p>An' counsellors almost gev over for dead,</p> +<p>An' the jury sittin' up in their box overhead;</p> +<p>An' the judge settled out so detarmined an' big,</p> +<p>With his gown on his back, and an illegant new wig;</p> +<p>An' silence was called, an' the minute it was said</p> +<p>The court was as still as the heart of the dead,</p> +<p>An' they heard but the openin' of one prison lock,</p> +<p>An' <span class="sc">Shamus O'Brien</span> kem into the dock.</p> +<p>For one minute he turned his eye round on the throng,</p> +<p>An' he looked at the bars, so firm and so strong,</p> +<p>An' he saw that he had not a hope nor a friend,</p> +<p>A chance to escape, nor a word to defend;</p> +<p>An' he folded his arms as he stood there alone,</p> +<p>As calm and as cold as a statue of stone;</p> +<p>And they read a big writin', a yard long at laste,</p> +<p>An' <span class="sc">Jim</span> didn't understand it, nor mind it a taste,</p> +<p>An' the judge took a big pinch iv snuff, and he says,</p> +<p>"Are you guilty or not, <span class="sc">Jim O'Brien</span>, av you plase?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>An' all held their breath in the silence of dhread,</p> +<p>An' <span class="sc">Shamus O'Brien</span> made answer and said:</p> +<p>"My lord, if you ask me, if in my life-time</p> +<p>I thought any treason, or did any crime</p> +<p>That should call to my cheek, as I stand alone here,</p> +<p>The hot blush of shame, or the coldness of fear,</p> +<p>Though I stood by the grave to receive my death-blow</p> +<p>Before <span class="sc">God</span> and the world I would answer you, no!</p> +<p>But if you would ask me, as I think it like,</p> +<p>If in the rebellion I carried a pike,</p> +<p>An' fought for ould Ireland from the first to the close,</p> +<p>An' shed the heart's blood of her bitterest foes,</p> +<p>I answer you, yes; and I tell you again,</p> +<p>Though I stand here to perish, it's my glory that then</p> +<p>In her cause I was willing my veins should run dhry,</p> +<p>An' that now for her sake I am ready to die."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>[page 217]</span> +<p>Then the silence was great, and the jury smiled bright,</p> +<p>An' the judge wasn't sorry the job was made light;</p> +<p>By my sowl, it's himself was the crabbed ould chap!</p> +<p>In a twinklin' he pulled on his ugly black cap.</p> +<p>Then <span class="sc">Shamus'</span> mother in the crowd standin' by,</p> +<p>Called out to the judge with a pitiful cry:</p> +<p>"O, judge! darlin', don't, O, don't say the word!</p> +<p>The crathur is young, have mercy, my lord;</p> +<p>He was foolish, he didn't know what he was doin';</p> +<p>You don't know him, my lord—O, don't give him to ruin!</p> +<p>He's the kindliest crathur, the tendherest-hearted;</p> +<p>Don't part us forever, we that's so long parted.</p> +<p>Judge, mavourneen, forgive him, forgive him, my lord,</p> +<p>An' <span class="sc">God</span> will forgive you—O, don't say the word!"</p> +<p>That was the first minute that <span class="sc">O'Brien</span> was shaken,</p> +<p>When he saw that he was not quite forgot or forsaken;</p> +<p>An' down his pale cheeks, at the word of his mother,</p> +<p>The big tears wor runnin' fast, one afther th' other;</p> +<p>An' two or three times he endeavoured to spake,</p> +<p>But the sthrong, manly voice used to falther and break;</p> +<p>But at last, by the strength of his high-mounting pride,</p> +<p>He conquered and masthered his grief's swelling tide,</p> +<p>"An'," says he, "mother, darlin', don't break your poor heart,</p> +<p>For, sooner or later, the dearest must part;</p> +<p>And <span class="sc">God</span> knows it's betther than wandering in fear</p> +<p>On the bleak, trackless mountain, among the wild deer,</p> +<p>To lie in the grave, where the head, heart, and breast,</p> +<p>From thought, labour, and sorrow, forever shall rest.</p> +<p>Then, mother, my darlin', don't cry any more,</p> +<p>Don't make me seem broken, in this, my last hour;</p> +<p>For I wish, when my head's lyin' undher the raven,</p> +<p>No thrue man can say that I died like a craven!"</p> +<p>Then towards the judge <span class="sc">Shamus</span> bent down his head,</p> +<p>An' that minute the solemn death-sentince was said.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The mornin' was bright, an' the mists rose on high,</p> +<p>An' the lark whistled merrily in the clear sky;</p> +<p>But why are the men standin' idle so late?</p> +<p>An' why do the crowds gather fast in the street?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>[page 218]</span> +<p>What come they to talk of? what come they to see?</p> +<p>An' why does the long rope hang from the cross-tree?</p> +<p>O, <span class="sc">Shamus O'Brien</span>! pray fervent and fast,</p> +<p>May the saints take your soul, for this day is your last;</p> +<p>Pray fast an' pray sthrong, for the moment is nigh,</p> +<p>When, sthrong, proud, an' great as you are, you must die.</p> +<p>An' fasther an' fasther, the crowd gathered there,</p> +<p>Boys, horses, and gingerbread, just like a fair;</p> +<p>An' whiskey was sellin', and cussamuck too,</p> +<p>An' ould men and young women enjoying the view.</p> +<p>An' ould <span class="sc">Tim Mulvany</span>, he med the remark,</p> +<p>There wasn't sich a sight since the time of <span class="sc">Noah's</span> ark,</p> +<p>An' be gorry, 'twas thrue for him, for devil sich a scruge,</p> +<p>Sich divarshin and crowds, was known since the deluge,</p> +<p>For thousands were gathered there, if there was one,</p> +<p>Waitin' till such time as the hangin' 'id come on.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At last they threw open the big prison-gate,</p> +<p>An' out came the sheriffs and sodgers in state,</p> +<p>An' a cart in the middle, an' <span class="sc">Shamus</span> was in it,</p> +<p>Not paler, but prouder than ever, that minute.</p> +<p>An' as soon as the people saw <span class="sc">Shamus O'Brien</span>,</p> +<p>Wid prayin' and blessin', and all the girls cryin',</p> +<p>A wild wailin' sound kem on by degrees,</p> +<p>Like the sound of the lonesome wind blowin' through trees.</p> +<p>On, on to the gallows the sheriffs are gone,</p> +<p>An' the cart an' the sodgers go steadily on;</p> +<p>An' at every side swellin' around of the cart,</p> +<p>A wild, sorrowful sound, that id open your heart.</p> +<p>Now under the gallows the cart takes its stand,</p> +<p>An' the hangman gets up with the rope in his hand;</p> +<p>An' the priest, havin' blest him, goes down on the ground,</p> +<p>An' <span class="sc">Shamus O'Brien</span> throws one last look round.</p> +<p>Then the hangman dhrew near, an' the people grew still,</p> +<p>Young faces turned sickly, and warm hearts turn chill;</p> +<p>An' the rope bin' ready, his neck was made bare,</p> +<p>For the gripe iv the life-strangling chord to prepare;</p> +<p>An' the good priest has left him, havin' said his last prayer,</p> +<p>But the good priest done more, for his hands he unbound,</p> +<p>And with one daring spring <span class="sc">Jim</span> has leaped on the ground;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>[page 219]</span> +<p>Bang! bang! goes the carbines, and clash goes the sabres;</p> +<p>He's not down! he's alive still! now stand to him, neighbours!</p> +<p>Through the smoke and the horses he's into the crowd,—</p> +<p>By the heavens, he's free!—than thunder more loud,</p> +<p>By one shout from the people the heavens were shaken—</p> +<p>One shout that the dead of the world might awaken.</p> +<p>The sodgers ran this way, the sheriffs ran that,</p> +<p>An' Father <span class="sc">Malone</span> lost his new Sunday hat;</p> +<p>To-night he'll be sleepin' in Aherloe Glin,</p> +<p>An' the divil's in the dice if you catch him ag'in.</p> +<p>Your swords they may glitter, your carbines go bang,</p> +<p>But if you want hangin', it's yourself you must hang.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He has mounted his horse, and soon he will be</p> +<p>In America, darlint, the land of the free.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page219a" id="page219a"></a> + +<h2>"WHICH AM DE MIGHTIEST, DE PEN OR DE SWORD?"</h2> + + +<blockquote><p> +The "Colored Debating Society" of Mount Vernon, Ohio, +had some very interesting meetings. The object of the argument +on a particular evening was the settlement, at once and +forever, of the question. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Mr. Larkins said about as follows: "Mr. Chaarman, +what's de use ob a swoard unless you's gwyne +to waar? Who's hyar dat's gwyne to waar? I isn't, +Mr. Morehouse isn't, Mrs. Morehouse isn't, Mr. +Newsome isn't; I'll bet no feller wot speaks on the +swoard side is any ideer ob gwyne to waar. Den, +what's de use ob de swoard? I don't tink dar's +much show for argument in de matter."</p> + +<p>Mr. Lewman said: "What's de use ob de pen +'less you knows how to write? How's dat? Dat's +what I wants to know. Look at de chillun ob +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>[page 220]</span> +Isr'l—wasn't but one man in de whole crowd gwine up +from Egyp' to de Promis' Lan' cood write, an' he +didn't write much. [A voice in the audience, "Who +wrote de ten comman'ments, anyhow, you bet." +Cheers from the pen side.] Wrote 'em? wrote 'em? +Not much; guess not; not on stone, honey. Might +p'r'aps cut 'em wid a chisel. Broke 'em all, anyhow, +'fore he got down de hill. Den when he cut a +new set, de chillun ob Isr'l broke 'em all again. Say +he did write 'em, what good was it? So his pen no +'count nohow. No, saar. De <i>swoard's</i> what fotched +'em into de Promis' Lan', saar. Why, saar, it's +ridiculous. Tink, saar, ob David a-cuttin' off +Goliah's head wid a <i>pen</i>, saar! De ideer's altogedder +too 'posterous, saar. De <i>swoard</i>, saar, de +<i>swoard</i> mus' win de argument, saar."</p> + +<p>Dr. Crane said: "I tink Mr. Lewman a leetle too +fas'. He's a-speakin' ob de times in de dim pas', +when de mind ob man was crude, an' de han' ob man +was in de ruff state, an' not tone down to de refinement +ob cibilized times. Dey wasn't educated up to +de use ob de pen. Deir han's was only fit for de ruff +use ob de swoard. Now, as de modern poet says, +our swoards rust in deir cubbards, an' peas, sweet +peas, cover de lan'. An' what has wrot all dis +change? <i>De pen.</i> Do I take a swoard now to get +me a peck ob sweet taters, a pair ob chickens, a pair +ob shoes? No, saar. I jess take my pen an' write +an order for 'em. Do I want money? I don't git it +by de edge ob de swoard; I writes a check. I want +a suit ob clothes, for instance—a stroke ob de pen, +de mighty pen, de clothes is on de way. I'se done."</p> + +<p>Mr. Newsome said: "Wid all due 'spect to de +learned gemman dat's jus' spoke, we mus' all agree +dat for smoovin' tings off an' a-levelin' tings down, +dere's notting equals de swoard."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hunnicut said: "I agrees entirely wid Mr. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>[page 221]</span> +Newsome; an' in answer to what Dr. Crane says, I +would jess ask what's de use ob drawin' a check unless +you's got de money in de bank, or a-drawin' de +order on de store unless de store truss you? S'pose +de store do truss, ain't it easier to sen' a boy as to +write a order? If you got no boy handy, telegraf. +No use for a pen—not a bit. Who ebber heard of +Mr. Hill's pen? Nobody, saar. But his swoard, +saar—de swoard ob ole Bunker Hill, saar—is known +to ebbery chile in de lan'. If it hadden been for de +swoard ob ole Bunker Hill, saar, whaar'd we niggers +be to-night, saar? whaar, saar? Not hyar, saar. +In Georgia, saar, or wuss, saar. No cullud man, +saar, should ebber go back, saar, on de swoard, +saar."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hunnicut's remarks seemed to carry a good +deal of weight with the audience. After speeches by +a number of others, the subject was handed over to +the "committee," who carried it out and "sot on +it." In due time they returned with the followin' +decision:</p> + +<p>"De committee decide dat de swoard has de most +pints an' de best backin', an' dat de pen is de most +beneficial, an' dat de whole ting is about a stan'-off."</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page221a" id="page221a"></a> + +<h2>JUVENILE PUGILISTS.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>S. C. CLEMENS.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">Y</span> +<b>ES</b>, I've had a good many fights in my time," +said old John Parky, tenderly manipulating +his dismantled nose, "and it's kind of queer, too, for +when I was a boy the old man was always telling me +better. He was a good man and hated fighting. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>[page 222]</span> +When I would come home with my nose bleeding or +with my face scratched up, he used to call me out in +the woodshed, and in a sorrowful and discouraged +way say, 'So, Johnny, you've had another fight, +hey? How many times have I got to tell ye how +disgraceful and wicked it is for boys to fight? It was +only yesterday that I talked to you an hour about the +sin of fighting, and here you've been at it again. +Who was it with this time? <i>With Tommy Kelly, +hey?</i> Don't you know any better than to fight a boy +that weighs twenty pounds more than you do, besides +being two years older? Ain't you got a spark of +sense about ye? I can see plainly that you are +determined to break your poor father's heart by your +reckless conduct. What ails your finger? <i>Tommy +bit it?</i> Drat the little fool! Didn't ye know enough +to keep your finger out of his mouth? <i>Was trying +to jerk his cheek off, hey?</i> Won't you never learn to +quit foolin' 'round a boy's mouth with yer fingers? +You're bound to disgrace us all by such wretched +behaviour. You're determined never to be nobody. +Did you ever hear of Isaac Watts—that wrote, "Let +dogs delight to bark and bite"—sticking his fingers +in a boy's mouth to get 'em bit, like a fool? I'm +clean discouraged with ye. Why didn't ye go for his +nose, the way Jonathan Edwards, and George Washington, +and Daniel Webster used to do, when they +was boys? <i>Couldn't 'cause he had ye down?</i> That's +a purty story to tell me. It does beat all that you +can't learn how Socrates and William Penn used to +gouge when they was under, after the hours and +hours I've spent in telling you about those great +men! It seems to me sometimes as if I should have +to give you up in despair. It's an awful trial to me +to have a boy that don't pay any attention to good +example, nor to what I say. What! <i>You pulled +out three or four handfuls of his hair?</i> H'm! Did +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>[page 223]</span> +he squirm any? Now if you'd a give him one or two +in the eye—but as I've told ye many a time, fighting +is poor business. Won't you—for your <i>father's</i> sake—<i>won't +you</i> promise to try and remember that? +H'm! Johnny, how did it—ahem—which licked?"</p> + +<p>"'<i>You licked him?</i> Sho! Really? Well, now, +I hadn't any idea you could lick that Tommy Kelly! +I don't believe John Bunyan, at ten years old, could +have done it. Johnny, my boy, you can't think how +I hate to have you fighting every day or two. I +wouldn't have had him lick <i>you</i> for five, no, not for +ten dollars! Now, sonny, go right in and wash up, +and tell your mother to put a rag on your finger. +And, Johnny, don't let me hear of your fighting +again!'"</p> + +<p>"I never see anybody so down on fighting as the +old man, was, but somehow he never could break me +from it."</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page223a" id="page223a"></a> + +<h2>THE OLD MAN IN THE STYLISH CHURCH.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>JOHN H. YATES.</b></p> + + +<p class="center" style="font-size: 0.9em;"> +Additional effect may be given to this piece by any one +who can impersonate the old man. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +W</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>ELL</b>, wife, I've been to church to-day—been to a stylish one—</p> +<p class="i6">And, seein' you can't go from home, I'll tell you what was done;</p> +<p>You would have been surprised to see what I saw there to-day;</p> +<p>The sisters were fixed up so fine they hardly bowed to pray.</p> +<p>I had on these coarse clothes of mine, not much the worse for wear,</p> +<p>But then they knew I wasn't one they call a millionaire;</p> +<p>So they led the old man to a seat away back by the door—</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>[page 224]</span> +<p>'Twas bookless and uncushioned—<i>a reserved seat for the poor</i>.</p> +<p>Pretty soon in came a stranger with gold ring and clothing fine;</p> +<p>They led him to a cushioned seat far in advance of mine.</p> +<p>I thought that wasn't exactly right to seat him up so near,</p> +<p>When he was young, and I was old and very hard to hear.</p> +<p>But then there's no accountin' for what some people do;</p> +<p>The finest clothing nowadays oft gets the finest pew,</p> +<p>But when we reach the blessed home, all undefiled by sin,</p> +<p>We'll see wealth beggin' at the gate, while poverty goes in.</p> +<p>I couldn't hear the sermon, I sat so far away,</p> +<p>So, through the hours of service, I could only "watch and pray;"</p> +<p>Watch the doin's of the Christians sitting near me, round about;</p> +<p>Pray God to make them pure within, as they were pure without.</p> +<p>While I sat there, lookin' 'round upon the rich and great,</p> +<p>I kept thinkin' of the rich man and the beggar at his gate;</p> +<p>How, by all but dogs forsaken, the poor beggar's form grew cold,</p> +<p>And the angels bore his spirit to the mansions built of gold.</p> +<p>How, at last, the rich man perished, and his spirit took its flight,</p> +<p>From the purple and fine linen to the home of endless night;</p> +<p>There he learned, as he stood gazin' at the beggar in the sky,</p> +<p>"It isn't all of life to live, nor all of death to die."</p> +<p>I doubt not there were wealthy sires in that religious fold,</p> +<p>Who went up from their dwellings like the Pharisee of old,</p> +<p>Then returned home from their worship, with a head uplifted high,</p> +<p>To spurn the hungry from their door, with naught to satisfy.</p> +<p>Out, out with such professions! they are doin' more to-day</p> +<p>To stop the weary sinner from the Gospel's shinin' way</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>[page 225]</span> +<p>Than all the books of infidels; than all that has been tried</p> +<p>Since Christ was born at Bethlehem—since Christ was crucified.</p> +<p>How simple are the works of God, and yet how very grand;</p> +<p>The shells in ocean caverns, the flowers on the land;</p> +<p>He gilds the clouds of evenin' with the gold right from his throne,</p> +<p>Not for the rich man <i>only</i>—not for the poor alone.</p> +<p>Then why should man look down on man because of lack of gold?</p> +<p>Why seat him in the poorest pew because his clothes are old?</p> +<p>A heart with noble motives—a heart that God has blest—</p> +<p>May be beatin' Heaven's music 'neath that faded coat and vest.</p> +<p>I'm old—I may be childish—but I love simplicity;</p> +<p>I love to see it shinin' in a Christian's piety.</p> +<p>Jesus told us in His sermons in Judea's mountains wild,</p> +<p>He that wants to go to Heaven must be like a little child.</p> +<p>Our heads are growin' gray, dear wife; our hearts are beatin' slow;</p> +<p>In a little while the Master will call us for to go.</p> +<p>When we reach the pearly gateways, and look in with joyful eyes,</p> +<p>We'll see <i>no stylish worship</i> in the temple of the skies.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page225a" id="page225a"></a> + +<h2>THE OLD MAN IN THE MODEL CHURCH.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>JOHN H. YATES.</b></p> + + +<p class="center" style="font-size: 0.9em;"> +A companion to the foregoing. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +W</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>ELL</b>, wife, I've found the model church! I worshipped there to-day!</p> +<p class="i6">It made me think of good old times before my hairs were gray;</p> +<p>The meetin' house was fixed up more than they were years ago,</p> +<p>But then I felt, when I went in, it wasn't built for show.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>[page 226]</span> +<p>The sexton didn't seat me away back by the door;</p> +<p>He knew that I was old and deaf, as well as old and poor;</p> +<p>He must have been a Christian, for he led me boldly through</p> +<p>The long isle of that crowded church to find a pleasant pew.</p> +<p>I wish you'd heard the singin'; it had the old-time ring;</p> +<p>The preacher said, with trumpet voice: "Let all the people sing!"</p> +<p>The tune was "Coronation," and the music upward rolled,</p> +<p>Till I thought I heard the angels striking all their harps of gold.</p> +<p>My deafness seemed to melt away; my spirit caught the fire;</p> +<p>I joined my feeble, trembling voice with that melodious choir,</p> +<p>And sang as in my youthful days: "Let angels prostrate fall;</p> +<p>Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown him Lord of all."</p> +<p>I tell you, wife, it did me good to sing that hymn once more;</p> +<p>I felt like some wrecked mariner who gets a glimpse of shore;</p> +<p>I almost wanted to lay down this weather-beaten form,</p> +<p>And anchor in that blessed port, forever from the storm.</p> +<p>The prechen'? Well, I can't just tell all that the preacher said;</p> +<p>I know it wasn't written; I know it wasn't read;</p> +<p>He hadn't time to read it, for the lightnin' of his eye</p> +<p>Went flashin' 'long from pew to pew, nor passed a sinner by.</p> +<p>The sermon wasn't flowery; 'twas simple Gospel truth;</p> +<p>It fitted poor old men like me; it fitted hopeful youth;</p> +<p>'Twas full of consolation for weary hearts that bleed;</p> +<p>'Twas full of invitations to Christ and not to creed.</p> +<p>The preacher made sin hideous in Gentiles and in Jews;</p> +<p>He shot the golden sentences down in the finest pews;</p> +<p>And—though I can't see very well—I saw the falling tear</p> +<p>That told me hell was some ways off, and heaven very near.</p> +<p>How swift the golden moments fled within that holy place;</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>[page 227]</span> +<p>How brightly beamed the light of heaven from every happy face;</p> +<p>Again I longed for that sweet time when friend shall meet with friend,</p> +<p>"When congregations ne'er break up, and Sabbath has no end."</p> +<p>I hope to meet that minister—that congregation, too—</p> +<p>In that dear home beyond the stars that shine from heaven's blue;</p> +<p>I doubt not I'll remember, beyond life's evenin' gray,</p> +<p>The happy hour of worship in that model church to-day.</p> +<p>Dear wife, the fight will soon be fought—the victory soon be won;</p> +<p>The shinin' goal is just ahead; the race is nearly run;</p> +<p>O'er the river we are nearin', they are throngin' to the shore,</p> +<p>To shout our safe arrival where the weary weep no more.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page227a" id="page227a"></a> + +<h2>THE SAN FRANCISCO AUCTIONEER.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>ANON.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">N</span> +<b>OW</b>, ladies and gentlemen, I have the honour of +putting up a fine pocket-handkerchief, a yard +wide, a yard long, and almost a yard thick; one-half +cotton, and t'other half cotton too, beautifully printed +with stars and stripes on one side, and the stripes +and stars on t'other. It will wipe dust from the eyes +so completely as to be death to demagogues, and +make politics as bad a business as printing papers. +Its great length, breadth and thickness, together +with its dark colour, will enable it to hide dirt, and +never need washing. Going at one dollar? seventy-five +cents? fifty cents? twenty-five cents? one bit? +Nobody wants it! Oh, thank you, sir! Next, gentlemen—for +the ladies won't be permitted to bid on this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>[page 228]</span> +article—is a real, simon pure, tempered, highly-polished, +keen-edged Sheffield razor; bran spanking +new; never opened before to sunlight, moonlight, +starlight, daylight or gaslight; sharp enough to +shave a lawyer or cut a disagreeable acquaintance or +poor relation; handle of buck-horn, with all the +rivets but the two at the ends of pure gold. Who +will give two dollars? one dollar? half a dollar? +Why, ye long-bearded, dirty-faced reprobates, with +not room on your phizzes for a Chinese woman to +kiss, I'm offering you a bargain at half a dollar! +Well, I'll throw in this strop at half a dollar! razor +and strop! a recent patent; two rubs upon it will +sharpen the city attorney; all for four bits; and a +piece of soap, sweeter than roses, lathers better than +a school-master, and strong enough to wash all the +stains from a California politician's countenance, all +for four bits. Why, you have only to put the razor, +strop and soap under your pillow at night, and wake +up in the morning clean shaved. Won't anybody +give two bits, then, for the lot? I knew I would sell +them! Next, ladies and gentlemen, I offer three +pair socks, hose, stockings, or half-hose, just as +you're a mind to call them, knit by a machine made +on purpose, out of cotton wool. The man that buys +these will be enabled to walk till he gets tired; and, +provided his boots are big enough, needn't have any +corns; the legs are as long as bills against the corporation, +and as thick as the heads of the members +of the legislature. Who wants 'em at one half +dollar? Thank-ee, madame, the money. Next I +offer you a pair of boots made especially for San +Francisco, with heels long enough to raise a man up +to the Hoadley grades, and nails to ensure against +being carried over by a land slide; legs wide enough +to carry two revolvers and a bowie-knife, and the +upper of the very best horse leather. A man in these +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>[page 229]</span> +boots can move about as easy as the State Capitol. +Who says twenty dollars? All the tax-payers ought +to buy a pair to kick the council with, everybody +ought to buy a pair to kick the legislature with, and +they will be found of assistance in kicking the bucket +especially if somebody should kick at being kicked. +Ten dollars for legs, uppers and soles! while souls, +and miserable souls at that, are bringing twenty +thousand dollars in Sacramento! Ten dollars! ten +dollars! gone at ten dollars! Next is something +that you ought to have, gentlemen,—a lot of good +gallowses—sometimes called suspenders. I know +that some of you will, after a while, be furnished at +the State's expense, but you can't tell which one, so +buy where they're cheap. All that deserve to be +hanged are not supplied with a gallows; if so, there +would be nobody to make laws, condemn criminals, +or hang culprits, until a new election. Made of pure +gum-elastic—stretch like a judge's conscience, and +last as long as a California office-holder will steal; +buckles of pure iron, and warranted to hold so tight +that no man's wife can rob him of his breeches; are, +in short, as strong, as good, as perfect, as effectual +and as bona-fide as the ordinance against Chinese +shops on Dupont Street—gone at twenty-five cents.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page229a" id="page229a"></a> + +<h2>PAT-ENT GUN.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +I</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"><b>'VE</b> heard a good joke on Emerald Pat,</p> +<p class="i4">Who kept a few brains and a brick in his hat;</p> +<p>He was bound to go hunting; so taking his gun</p> +<p>He rammed down a charge—this was load number one;</p> +<p>Then he put in the priming, and when all was done,</p> +<p>By way of experiment, he thought he would try</p> +<p>And see if by perchance he might hit the "bull's eye."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id="page230"></a>[page 230]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He straightened himself until he made a good figure,</p> +<p>Took a deliberate aim and then pulled the trigger.</p> +<p>Click! went the hammer, but nothing exploded;</p> +<p>"And sure," muttered Paddy, "the gun isn't loaded."</p> +<p>So down went another charge, just as before,</p> +<p>Unless this contained a grain or two more;</p> +<p>Once more he made ready and took a good aim</p> +<p>And pulled on the trigger—effect quite the same.</p> +<p>"I wonder, can this be, still shootin'?" said Pat;</p> +<p>"I put down a load, now I'm certain of that;</p> +<p>I'll try it again, and then we shall see!"</p> +<p>So down went the cartridge of load number three.</p> +<p>Then trying again with a confident air,</p> +<p>And succeeding no better, he gave up in despair.</p> +<p>Just at that moment he happened to spy</p> +<p>His friend, Michael Milligan, hurrying by.</p> +<p>"Hello, Mike! Come here and try on my gun;</p> +<p>I've been trying to shoot until I'm tired and done!"</p> +<p>So Mike took the gun and picked up the powder,</p> +<p>Remarking to Pat, "it would make it go louder."</p> +<p>Then placing it firmly against his right arm,</p> +<p>And never suspecting it might do him harm,</p> +<p>He pointed the piece in the proper direction,</p> +<p>And pulled on the trigger without more reflection,</p> +<p>When off went the gun like a county election</p> +<p>Where whisky and gin have exclusive selection</p> +<p>Of those who are chosen to guard the inspection—</p> +<p>There's a great deal of noise—and some little inspection,</p> +<p>And Michael "went off" in another direction.</p> +<p>"Hold on!" shouted Pat, "Hold on to the gun,</p> +<p>I put in three loads, and you fired off but one!</p> +<p>Get up, and be careful, don't hold it so level,</p> +<p>Or else we are both us gone to the—cemetery!"</p> +<p>"I'm goin'," says Michael, "it's time that I wint,</p> +<p>I've got meself kicked and I'll just take the hint."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now, old boys, and young, here's a moral for you;</p> +<p>Don't make Pat your pattern whatever you do.</p> +<p>Don't carry too much in the crown of your hat;</p> +<p>Of all things you lodge there beware of the bat!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>[page 231]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I don't mean the little mouse flying in the air,</p> +<p>The ladies so fear that may get into their hair,</p> +<p>But the dangerous brick bat, so much worse than that,</p> +<p>Nobody can wear it that isn't a "flat,"</p> +<p>And then don't forget it is one of Old Nick's</p> +<p>Diabolical methods of playing his tricks</p> +<p>On foolish young men who become "perfect bricks;"</p> +<p>He don't give the hint until <i>after</i> he kicks!</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page231a" id="page231a"></a> + +<h2>A PSALM OF LIFE.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>H. W. LONGFELLOW.</b></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>ELL</b> me not, in mournful numbers,</p> +<p class="i6">"Life is but an empty dream!"</p> +<p>For the soul is dead that slumbers,</p> +<p class="i2">And things are not what they seem.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Life is real! life is earnest!</p> +<p class="i2">And the grave is not its goal;</p> +<p>"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"</p> +<p class="i2">Was not spoken of the soul.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,</p> +<p class="i2">Is our destined end or way;</p> +<p>But to act that each to-morrow,</p> +<p class="i2">Find us farther than to-day.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Art is long, and Time is fleeting,</p> +<p class="i2">And our hearts, though stout and brave,</p> +<p>Still, like muffled drums, are beating,</p> +<p class="i2">Funeral marches to the grave.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>In the world's broad field of battle.</p> +<p class="i2">In the bivouac of Life,</p> +<p>Be not like dumb, driven cattle!</p> +<p class="i2">Be a hero in the strife!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>[page 232]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!</p> +<p class="i2">Let the dead Past bury its dead!</p> +<p>Act—act in the living Present!</p> +<p class="i2">Heart within, and God o'erhead.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Lives of great men all remind us</p> +<p class="i2">We can make our lives sublime,</p> +<p>And departing, leave behind us</p> +<p class="i2">Footprints on the sands of time.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Footprints, that perhaps another,</p> +<p class="i2">Sailing o'er life's solemn main,</p> +<p>A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,</p> +<p class="i2">Seeing, shall take heart again.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Let us, then, be up and doing,</p> +<p class="i2">With a heart for any fate;</p> +<p>Still achieving, still pursuing</p> +<p class="i2">Learn to labour and to wait.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page232a" id="page232a"></a> + +<h2>THE LAST MAN.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>THOMAS CAMPBELL.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">A</span> +<b>LL</b> worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, the sun +himself must die, before this mortal shall assume +its immortality! I saw a vision in my sleep +that gave my spirit strength to sweep adown the gulf +of Time! I saw the last of human mould that shall +Creation's death behold, as Adam saw her prime! +The Sun's eye had a sickly glare, the earth with age +was wan; the skeletons of nations were around that +lonely man! Some had expired in fight—the brands +still rusted in their bony hands; in plague and +famine some. Earth's cities had no sound or tread, +and ships were drifting with the dead to shores +where all was dumb. Yet, prophet-like, that Lone +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>[page 233]</span> +One stood, with dauntless words and high, that +shook the sere leaves from the wood as if a storm +passed by, saying—"We are twins in death, proud +Sun! thy face is cold, thy race is run, 'tis mercy bids +thee go; for thou ten thousand years hast seen the +tide of human tears—that shall no longer flow. +What though beneath thee, man put forth his pomp, +his pride, his skill; and arts that made fire, flood, +and earth, the vassals of his will?—yet mourn I not +thy parted sway, thou dim, discrownèd king of day; +for all those trophied arts and triumphs, that beneath +thee sprang, healed not a passion or a pang entailed +on human hearts. Go! let Oblivion's curtain fall +upon the stage of men! nor with thy rising beams +recall life's tragedy again! Its piteous pageants +bring not back, nor waken flesh upon the rack of pain +anew to writhe, stretched in Disease's shapes abhorred, +or mown in battle by the sword, like grass +beneath the scythe! Even I am weary in yon skies +to watch thy fading fire: test of all sumless agonies, +behold not me expire! My lips, that speak thy dirge +of death, their rounded gasp and gurgling breath to +see, thou shalt not boast; the eclipse of Nature +spreads my pall, the majesty of Darkness shall +receive my parting ghost! The spirit shall return to +Him who gave its heavenly spark; yet think not, +Sun, it shall be dim when thou thyself art dark! No! +it shall live again, and shine in bliss unknown to +beams of thine; by Him recalled to breath, who captive +led captivity, who robbed the grave of victory, +and took the sting from Death! Go, Sun, while +mercy holds me up on Nature's awful waste, to drink +this last and bitter cup of grief that man shall taste,—go! +tell the night that hides thy face thou saw'st +the last of Adam's race on earth's sepulchral clod, +the darkening universe defy to quench his immortality, +or shake his trust in God!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>[page 234]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page234a" id="page234a"></a> + +<h2>THE MANTLE OF ST. JOHN DE MATHA.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>JOHN G. WHITTIER.</b></p> + +<h4>A LEGEND OF "THE RED, WHITE, AND BLUE."</h4> + +<h4><span class="sc">A.D.</span> 1154-1864.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +A</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>STRONG</b> and mighty Angel,</p> +<p class="i6">Calm, terrible and bright,</p> +<p>The cross in blended red and blue</p> +<p class="i2">Upon his mantle white!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Two captives by him kneeling,</p> +<p class="i2">Each on his broken chain,</p> +<p>Sang praise to God who raiseth</p> +<p class="i2">The dead to life again!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Dropping his cross-wrought mantle,</p> +<p class="i2">"Wear this," the Angel said;</p> +<p>"Take thou, O Freedom's priest, its sign—</p> +<p class="i2">The white, the blue, the red."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then rose up John de Matha</p> +<p> In the strength the Lord Christ gave,</p> +<p>And begged through all the land of France</p> +<p class="i2">The ransom of the slave.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The gates of tower and castle</p> +<p class="i2">Before him open flew,</p> +<p>The drawbridge at his coming fell,</p> +<p class="i2">The door-bolt backward drew.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For all men owned his errand,</p> +<p class="i2">And paid his righteous tax;</p> +<p>And the hearts of lord and peasant</p> +<p class="i2">Were in his hands as wax.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At last, outbound from Tunis,</p> +<p class="i2">His bark her anchor weighed,</p> +<p>Freighted with seven score Christian souls</p> +<p class="i2">Whose ransom he had paid.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id="page235"></a>[page 235]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But, torn by Paynim hatred,</p> +<p class="i2">Her sails in tatters hung;</p> +<p>And on the wild waves rudderless,</p> +<p class="i2">A shattered hulk she swung.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"God save us!" cried the captain,</p> +<p class="i2">For naught can man avail:</p> +<p>O, woe betide the ship that lacks</p> +<p class="i2">Her rudder and her sail!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Behind us are the Moormen;</p> +<p class="i2">At sea we sink or strand:</p> +<p>There's death upon the water,</p> +<p class="i2">There's death upon the land!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then up spake John de Matha:</p> +<p class="i2">"God's errands never fail!</p> +<p>Take thou the mantle which I wear,</p> +<p class="i2">And make of it a sail."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>They raised the cross-wrought mantle,</p> +<p class="i2">The blue, the white, the red;</p> +<p>And straight before the wind off-shore</p> +<p class="i2">The ship of Freedom sped.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"God help us!" cried the seamen,</p> +<p class="i2">"For vain is mortal skill;</p> +<p>The good ship on a stormy sea</p> +<p class="i2">Is drifting at its will."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then up spake John de Matha:</p> +<p class="i2">"My mariners, never fear!</p> +<p>The Lord whose breath has filled her sail</p> +<p class="i2">May well our vessel steer!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So on through storm and darkness</p> +<p class="i2">They drove for weary hours;</p> +<p>And lo! the third gray morning shone</p> +<p class="i2">On Ostia's friendly towers.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And on the walls the watchers</p> +<p class="i2">The ship of mercy knew—</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>[page 236]</span> +<p>They knew far off its holy cross,</p> +<p class="i2">The red, the white, the blue.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And the bells in all the steeples</p> +<p class="i2">Rang out in glad accord,</p> +<p>To welcome home to Christian soil</p> +<p class="i2">The ransomed of the Lord.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So runs the ancient legend</p> +<p class="i2">By bard and painter told;</p> +<p>And lo! the cycle rounds again,</p> +<p class="i2">The new is as the old!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>With rudder foully broken,</p> +<p class="i2">And sails by traitors torn,</p> +<p>Our country on a midnight sea</p> +<p class="i2">Is waiting for the morn.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Before her, nameless terror;</p> +<p class="i2">Behind, the pirate foe;</p> +<p>The clouds are black above her,</p> +<p class="i2">The sea is white below.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The hope of all who suffer,</p> +<p class="i2">The dread of all who wrong,</p> +<p>She drifts in darkness and in storm,</p> +<p class="i2">How long, O Lord! how long?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But courage, O my mariners!</p> +<p class="i2">Ye shall not suffer wreck,</p> +<p>While up to God the freedman's prayers</p> +<p class="i2">Are rising from your deck.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Is not your sail the banner</p> +<p class="i2">Which God hath blest anew,</p> +<p>The mantle that de Matha wore,</p> +<p class="i2">The red, the white, the blue?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Its hues are all of heaven—</p> +<p class="i2">The red of sunset's dye</p> +<p>The whiteness of the moonlit cloud,</p> +<p class="i2">The blue of morning's sky.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>[page 237]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Wait cheerily, then, O mariners,</p> +<p class="i2">For daylight and for land;</p> +<p>The breath of God is on your sail,</p> +<p class="i2">Your rudder in His hand.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Sail on, sail on, deep freighted</p> +<p class="i2">With blessings and with hopes;</p> +<p>The saints of old with shadowy hands</p> +<p class="i2">Are pulling at your ropes.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Behind ye, holy martyrs</p> +<p class="i2">Uplift the palm and crown;</p> +<p>Before ye, unborn ages send</p> +<p class="i2">Their benedictions down.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Take heart from John de Matha!—</p> +<p class="i2">God's errands never fail!</p> +<p>Sweep on through storm and darkness,</p> +<p class="i2">The thunder and the hail!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Sail on! The morning cometh,</p> +<p class="i2">The port ye yet shall win;</p> +<p>And all the bells of God shall ring</p> +<p class="i2">The good ship bravely in!</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page237a" id="page237a"></a> + +<h2>THE POLISH BOY.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>ANN S. STEPHENS.</b></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +W</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"> <b>HENCE</b> come those shrieks so wild and shrill,</p> +<p class="i6">That cut, like blades of steel, the air,</p> +<p>Causing the creeping blood to chill</p> +<p class="i2">With the sharp cadence of despair?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Again they come, as if a heart</p> +<p class="i2">Were cleft in twain by one quick blow,</p> +<p>And every string had voice apart</p> +<p class="i2">To utter its peculiar woe.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>[page 238]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Whence came they? from yon temple where</p> +<p>An altar, raised for private prayer,</p> +<p>Now forms the warrior's marble bed</p> +<p>Who Warsaw's gallant armies led.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The dim funereal tapers throw</p> +<p>A holy lustre o'er his brow,</p> +<p>And burnish with their rays of light</p> +<p>The mass of curls that gather bright</p> +<p>Above the haughty brow and eye</p> +<p>Of a young boy that's kneeling by.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>What hand is that, whose icy press</p> +<p class="i2">Clings to the dead with death's own grasp,</p> +<p>But meets no answering caress?</p> +<p class="i2">No thrilling fingers seek its clasp?</p> +<p>It is the hand of her whose cry</p> +<p class="i2">Rang wildly, late, upon the air,</p> +<p>When the dead warrior met her eye</p> +<p class="i2">Outstretched upon the altar there.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>With pallid lip and stony brow</p> +<p>She murmurs forth her anguish now.</p> +<p>But hark! the tramp of heavy feet</p> +<p>Is heard along the bloody street;</p> +<p>Nearer and nearer yet they come</p> +<p>With clanking arms and noiseless drum.</p> +<p>Now whispered curses, low and deep,</p> +<p>Around the holy temple creep;</p> +<p>The gate is burst; a ruffian band</p> +<p>Rush in and savagely demand,</p> +<p>With brutal voice and oath profane,</p> +<p>The startled boy for exile's chain.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The mother sprang with gesture wild,</p> +<p>And to her bosom clasped her child;</p> +<p>Then with pale cheek and flashing eye</p> +<p>Shouted with fearful energy,</p> +<p>"Back, ruffians, back, nor dare to tread</p> +<p>Too near the body of my dead;</p> +<p>Nor touch the living boy—I stand</p> +<p>Between him and your lawless band.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>[page 239]</span> +<p>Take me, and bind these arms, these hands,</p> +<p>With Russia's heaviest iron bands,</p> +<p>And drag me to Siberia's wild</p> +<p>To perish, if 'twill save my child!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Peace, woman, peace!" the leader cried,</p> +<p>Tearing the pale boy from her side,</p> +<p>And in his ruffian grasp he bore</p> +<p>His victim to the temple door.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"One moment!" shrieked the mother; "one!</p> +<p>Will land or gold redeem my son?</p> +<p>Take heritage, take name, take all,</p> +<p>But leave him free from Russian thrall!</p> +<p>Take these!" and her white arms and hands</p> +<p>She stripped of rings and diamond bands,</p> +<p>And tore from braids of long black hair</p> +<p>The gems that gleamed like starlight there;</p> +<p>Her cross of blazing rubies last</p> +<p>Down at the Russian's feet she cast.</p> +<p>He stooped to seize the glittering store—</p> +<p>Upspringing from the marble floor,</p> +<p>The mother, with a cry of joy,</p> +<p>Snatched to her leaping heart the boy.</p> +<p>But no! the Russian's iron grasp</p> +<p>Again undid the mother's clasp.</p> +<p>Forward she fell, with one long cry</p> +<p>Of more than mortal agony.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But the brave child is roused at length,</p> +<p class="i2">And breaking from the Russian's hold,</p> +<p>He stands, a giant in the strength</p> +<p class="i2">Of his young spirit, fierce and bold.</p> +<p>Proudly he towers; his flashing eye,</p> +<p class="i2">So blue, and yet so bright,</p> +<p>Seems kindled from the eternal sky,</p> +<p class="i2">So brilliant is its light.</p> +<p>His curling lips and crimson cheeks</p> +<p>Foretell the thought before he speaks;</p> +<p>With a full voice of proud command</p> +<p>He turned upon the wondering band:</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>[page 240]</span> +<p>"Ye hold me not! no, no, nor can!</p> +<p>This hour has made the boy a man!</p> +<p>I knelt before my slaughtered sire,</p> +<p>Nor felt one throb of vengeful ire.</p> +<p>I wept upon his marble brow,</p> +<p>Yes, wept! I was a child; but now—</p> +<p>My noble mother, on her knee,</p> +<p>Hath done the work of years for me!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He drew aside his broidered vest,</p> +<p>And there, like slumbering serpent's crest,</p> +<p>The jeweled haft of poniard bright</p> +<p>Glittered a moment on the sight.</p> +<p>"Ha! start ye back! Fool! coward! knave!</p> +<p>Think ye my noble father's glaive</p> +<p>Would drink the life-blood of a slave?</p> +<p>The pearls that on the handle flame</p> +<p>Would blush to rubies in their shame;</p> +<p>The blade would quiver in thy breast,</p> +<p>Ashamed of such ignoble rest.</p> +<p>No! Thus I rend the tyrant's chain,</p> +<p>And fling him back a boy's disdain!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A moment and the funeral light</p> +<p>Flashed on the jeweled weapon bright;</p> +<p>Another, and his young heart's blood</p> +<p>Leaped to the floor, a crimson flood.</p> +<p>Quick to his mother's side he sprang,</p> +<p>And on the air his clear voice rang:</p> +<p>"Up, mother, up! I'm free! I'm free!</p> +<p>The choice was death or slavery.</p> +<p>Up, mother, up! Look on thy son!</p> +<p>His freedom is forever won;</p> +<p>And now he waits one holy kiss</p> +<p>To bear his father home in bliss—</p> +<p>One last embrace, one blessing—one!</p> +<p>To prove thou knowest, approvest thy son.</p> +<p>What! silent yet? Canst thou not feel</p> +<p>My warm blood o'er my heart congeal?</p> +<p>Speak, mother, speak! lift up thy head!</p> +<p>What! silent still? Then art thou dead?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" id="page241"></a>[page 241]</span> +<p>——Great God, I thank Thee! Mother, I</p> +<p>Rejoice with thee—and thus—to die!"</p> +<p>One long, deep breath, and his pale head</p> +<p>Lay on his mother's bosom—dead.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page241a" id="page241a"></a> + +<h2>THAT HIRED GIRL.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>ANON.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">W</span> +<b>HEN</b> she came to work for the family on Congress +street, the lady of the house sat down +and told her that agents, book-peddlers, hat-rack +men, picture sellers, ash-buyers, rag-men, and all +that class of people, must be met at the front door +and coldly repulsed, and Sarah said she'd repulse +them if she had to break every broomstick in +Detroit.</p> + +<p>And she did. She threw the door open wide, +bluffed right up at 'em, and when she got through +talking, the cheekiest agent was only too glad to +leave. It got so after awhile that peddlers marked +that house, and the door-bell never rang except for +company.</p> + +<p>The other day, as the girl of the house was wiping +off the spoons, the bell rang. She hastened to the +door, expecting to see a lady, but her eyes encountered +a slim man, dressed in black and wearing a +white necktie. He was the new minister, and was +going around to get acquainted with the members of +his flock, but Sarah wasn't expected to know this.</p> + +<p>"Ah—um—is—Mrs.—ah!"</p> + +<p>"Git!" exclaimed Sarah, pointing to the gate.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, but I would like to see—see—"</p> + +<p>"Meander!" she shouted, looking around for a +weapon; "we don't want any flour-sifters here!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" id="page242"></a>[page 242]</span> + +<p>"You're mistaken," he replied, smiling blandly. +"I called to—"</p> + +<p>"Don't want anything to keep moths away—fly!" +she exclaimed, getting red in the face.</p> + +<p>"Is the lady in?" he inquired, trying to look over +Sarah's head.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the lady is in, and I'm in, and you are out!" +she snapped; "and now I don't want to stand here +talking to a fly-trap agent any longer! Come lift +your boots!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not an agent," he said, trying to smile. +"I'm the new—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know you—you are the new man with the +patent flat-iron, but we don't want any, and you'd +better go before I call the dog."</p> + +<p>"Will you give the lady my card, and say that I +called?"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't; we are bored to death with cards +and handbills and circulars. Come, I can't stand +here all day."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you know that I was a minister?" he +asked as he backed off.</p> + +<p>"No, nor I don't know it now; you look like the +man who sold the woman next door a dollar chromo +for eighteen shillings."</p> + +<p>"But here is my card."</p> + +<p>"I don't care for cards, I tell you! If you leave +that gate open I will have to fling a flower-pot at +you!"</p> + +<p>"I will call again," he said, as he went through +the gate.</p> + +<p>"It won't do any good!" she shouted after him; +"we don't want no prepared food for infants—no piano +music—no stuffed birds! I know the policemen on +this beat, and if you come around here again, he'll +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243"></a>[page 243]</span> +soon find out whether you are a confidence man or a +vagrant!"</p> + +<p>And she took unusual care to lock the door.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page243a" id="page243a"></a> + +<h2>THE BELL OF THE "ATLANTIC."</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>MRS. SIGOURNEY.</b></p> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>OLL</b>, toll, toll!</p> +<p class="i6">Thou bell by billows swung,</p> +<p>And, night and day, thy warning words</p> +<p class="i2">Repeat with mournful tongue!</p> +<p>Toll for the queenly boat,</p> +<p class="i2">Wrecked on yon rocky-shore!</p> +<p>Sea-weed is in her palace halls—</p> +<p class="i2">She rides the surge no more.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Toll for the master bold,</p> +<p class="i2">The high-souled and the brave,</p> +<p>Who ruled her like a thing of life</p> +<p class="i2">Amid the crested wave!</p> +<p>Toll for the hardy crew,</p> +<p class="i2">Sons of the storm and blast,</p> +<p>Who long the tyrant ocean dared;</p> +<p class="i2">But it vanquished them at last.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Toll for the man of God,</p> +<p class="i2">Whose hallowed voice of prayer</p> +<p>Rose calm above the stifled groan</p> +<p class="i2">Of that intense despair!</p> +<p>How precious were those tones,</p> +<p class="i2">On that sad verge of life,</p> +<p>Amid the fierce and freezing storm,</p> +<p class="i2">And the mountain billows strife!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Toll for the lover, lost</p> +<p class="i2">To the summoned bridal train</p> +<p>Bright glows a picture on his breast,</p> +<p class="i2">Beneath th' unfathomed main.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" id="page244"></a>[page 244]</span> +<p>One from her casement gazeth</p> +<p class="i2">Long o'er the misty sea:</p> +<p>He cometh not, pale maiden—</p> +<p class="i2">His heart is cold to thee?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Toll for the absent sire,</p> +<p class="i2">Who to his home drew near,</p> +<p>To bless a glad, expecting group—</p> +<p class="i2">Fond wife, and children dear!</p> +<p>They heap the blazing hearth,</p> +<p class="i2">The festal board is spread,</p> +<p>But a fearful guest is at the gate:—</p> +<p class="i2">Room for the sheeted dead!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Toll for the loved and fair,</p> +<p class="i2">The whelmed beneath the tide—</p> +<p>The broken harps around whose strings</p> +<p class="i2">The dull sea-monsters glide!</p> +<p>Mother and nursling sweet,</p> +<p class="i2">Reft from the household throng;</p> +<p>There's bitter weeping in the nest</p> +<p class="i2">Where breathed their soul of song.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Toll for the hearts that bleed</p> +<p class="i2">'Neath misery's furrowing trace;</p> +<p>Toll for the hapless orphan left,</p> +<p class="i2">The last of all his race!</p> +<p>Yea, with thy heaviest knell,</p> +<p class="i2">From surge to rocky shore,</p> +<p>Toll for the living—not the dead,</p> +<p class="i2">Whose mortal woes are o'er.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Toll, toll, toll!</p> +<p class="i2">O'er breeze and billow free;</p> +<p>And with thy startling lore instruct</p> +<p class="i2">Each rover of the sea.</p> +<p>Tell how o'er proudest joys</p> +<p class="i2">May swift destruction sweep,</p> +<p>And bid him build his hopes on high—</p> +<p class="i2">Lone teacher of the deep!</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" id="page245"></a>[page 245]</span> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page245a" id="page245a"></a> + +<h2>THE OWL—A SMALL BOY'S COMPOSITION.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>ANON.</b></p> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">W</span> +<b>EN</b> you come to see a owl cloce it has offle big +eyes, and wen you come to feel it with your +fingers, wich it bites, you fine it is mosely fethers, +with only jus meat enuf to hole 'em to gether.</p> + +<p>Once they was a man thot he would like a owl for +a pet, so he tole a bird man to send him the bes one +in the shop, but wen it was brot he lookt at it and +squeezed it, and it diddent sute. So the man he rote +to the bird man and said Ile keep the owl you sent, +tho it aint like I wanted, but wen it's wore out you +mus make me a other, with littler eyes, for I spose +these eyes is number twelves, but I want number +sixes, and then if I pay you the same price you can +aford to put in more owl.</p> + +<p>Owls have got to have big eyes cos tha has to be +out a good deal at nite a doin bisnis with rats and +mice, wich keeps late ours. They is said to be very +wise, but my sisters young man he says any boddy +coud be wise if they woud set up nites to take notice.</p> + +<p>That feller comes to our house jest like he used to, +only more, and wen I ast him wy he come so much +he said he was a man of sience, like me, and was +a studyin arnithogaly, which was birds. I ast him +wot birds he was a studyin, and he said anjils, and +wen he said that my sister she lookt out the winder +and said wot a fine day it had turn out to be. But it +was a rainin cats and dogs wen she said it. I never +see such a goose in my life as that girl, but Uncle +Ned, wich has been in ole parts of the worl, he says +they is jes that way in Pattygong.</p> + +<p>In the picture alphabets the O is some times a owl, +and some times it is a ox, but if I made the picters +Ide have it stan for a oggur to bore holes with. I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" id="page246"></a>[page 246]</span> +tole that to ole gaffer Peters once wen he was to our +house lookin at my new book, and he said you is +right, Johnny, and here is this H stan for harp, but +hoo cares for a harp, wy don't they make it stan for a +horgan? He is such a ole fool.</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page246a" id="page246a"></a> + +<h2>THE FLOWERS.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>HOWITT.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +[In reciting this sweetly beautiful little poem its noble truths +should be uttered with emphatic, but not noisy elocution. +There is sufficient variety in the different stanzas for the speaker +to display much taste and feeling.] +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +G</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i4"><b>OD</b> might have bade the earth bring forth</p> +<p class="i6">Enough for great and small,</p> +<p>The oak-tree and the cedar-tree,</p> +<p class="i4">Without a flower at all.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We might have had enough, enough</p> +<p class="i4">For every want of ours,</p> +<p>For luxury, medicine and toil,</p> +<p class="i4">And yet have had no flowers.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The one within the mountain mine</p> +<p class="i4">Requireth none to grow;</p> +<p>Nor does it need the lotus-flower</p> +<p class="i4">To make the river flow.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The clouds might give abundant rain;</p> +<p class="i4">The nightly dews might fall,</p> +<p>And the herb that keepeth life in man</p> +<p class="i4">Might yet have drunk them all.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then wherefore, wherefore were they made,</p> +<p class="i4">All dyed with rainbow-light,</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page247" id="page247"></a>[page 247]</span> +<p>All fashioned with supremest grace</p> +<p class="i4">Upspringing day and night:—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Springing in valleys green and low,</p> +<p class="i4">And on the mountains high,</p> +<p>And in the silent wilderness</p> +<p class="i4">Where no man passes by?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Our outward life requires them not—</p> +<p class="i4">Then wherefore had they birth?—</p> +<p>To minister delight to man,</p> +<p class="i4">To beautify the earth;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>To comfort man—to whisper hope,</p> +<p class="i4">Whene'er his faith is dim,</p> +<p>For who so careth for the flowers</p> +<p class="i4">Will much more care for him!</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page247a" id="page247a"></a> + +<h2>THE HYPOCHONDRIAC.</h2> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">G</span> +<b>OOD</b> morning, Doctor; how do you do? I haint +quite so well as I have been; but I think I'm +some better than I was. I don't think that last +medicine you gin me did me much good. I had +a terrible time with the ear-ache last night; my +wife got up and drapt a few draps of Walnut sap +into it, and that relieved it some; but I didn't get +a wink of sleep till nearly daylight. For nearly a +week, Doctor, I've had the worst kind of a narvous +head-ache; it has been so bad sometimes that I +thought my head would bust open. Oh, dear! I +sometimes think that I'm the most afflictedest +human that ever lived.</p> + +<p>Since this cold weather sot in, that troublesome +cough, that I have had every winter for the last +fifteen year, has began to pester me agin.</p> + +<p>(<i>Coughs.</i>) Doctor, do you think you can give me +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page248" id="page248"></a>[page 248]</span> +anything that will relieve this desprit pain I have +in my side?</p> + +<p>Then I have a crick, at times, in the back of my +neck so that I can't turn my head without turning +the hull of my body. (<i>Coughs.</i>)</p> + +<p>Oh, dear! What shall I do! I have consulted +almost every doctor in the country, but they don't +any of them seem to understand my case. I have +tried everything that I could think of; but I can't +find anything that does me the leastest good. + (<i>Coughs.</i>)</p> + +<p>Oh this cough—it will be the death of me yet! +You know I had my right hip put out last fall at +the rising of Deacon Jones' saw mill; its getting +to be very troublesome just before we have a change +of weather. Then I've got the sciatica in my right +knee, and sometimes I'm so crippled up that I can +hardly crawl round in any fashion.</p> + +<p>What do you think that old white mare of ours +did while I was out plowing last week? Why, the +weacked old critter, she kept a backing and backing, +on till she back'd me right up agin the colter, +and knock'd a piece of skin off my shin nearly so +big. (<i>Coughs.</i>)</p> + +<p>But I had a worse misfortune than that the other +day, Doctor. You see it was washing-day—and my +wife wanted me to go out and bring in a little stove-wood—you +know we lost our help lately, and my +wife has to wash and tend to everything about the +house herself.</p> + +<p>I knew it wouldn't be safe for me to go out—as +it was a raining at the time—but I thought I'd risk +it any how. So I went out, pick'd up a few chunks +of stove-wood, and was a coming up the steps into +the house, when my feet slipp'd from under me, +and I fell down as sudden as if I'd been shot. Some +of the wood lit upon my face, broke down the bridge +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page249" id="page249"></a>[page 249]</span> +of my nose, cut my upper lip, and knock'd out three +of my front teeth. I suffered dreadfully on account +of it, as you may suppose, and my face ain't well +enough yet to make me fit to be seen, specially by +the women folks. (<i>Coughs.</i>) Oh, dear! but that +ain't all, Doctor, I've got fifteen corns on my toes—and +I'm afeard I'm a going to have the "yallar +janders." (<i>Coughs.</i>)</p> + + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page249a" id="page249a"></a> + +<h2>THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.</h2> + +<p class="indright"><b>BYRON.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p> +[This sweetly mournful refrain, should be delivered with sad +earnestness; as though the speaker was describing the fate of +his own family.] +</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<div class="figleft3"> +T</div> <br style="line-height: 30%" /> +<p class="i2"> <b>HEY</b> grew in beauty side by side,</p> +<p class="i6">They filled our home with glee;</p> +<p>Their graves are severed, far and wide,</p> +<p class="i2">By mount, and stream, and sea.</p> +<p>The same fond mother bent at night</p> +<p class="i2">O'er each fair sleeping brow;</p> +<p>She had each folded flower in sight,</p> +<p class="i2">Where are those dreamers now?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>One, 'midst the forests of the West,</p> +<p class="i2">By a dark stream is laid,—</p> +<p>The Indian knows his place of rest,</p> +<p class="i2">Far in the cedar shade.</p> +<p>The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one,</p> +<p class="i2">He lies where pearls lie deep;</p> +<p>He was the loved of all, but none</p> +<p class="i2">O'er his low bed may weep.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>One sleeps where southern vines are drest</p> +<p class="i2">Above the noble slain:</p> +<p>He wrapt his colours round his breast,</p> +<p class="i2">On a blood-red field of Spain.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250"></a>[page 250]</span> +<p>And one—o'er her the myrtle showers</p> +<p class="i2">Its leaves, by soft winds fanned;</p> +<p>She faded 'midst Italian flowers,—</p> +<p class="i2">The last of that bright band.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And parted thus they rest, who played</p> +<p class="i2">Beneath the same green tree;</p> +<p>Whose voices mingled as they prayed</p> +<p class="i2">Around one parent knee!</p> +<p>They that with smiles lit up the hall,</p> +<p class="i2">And cheered with song the hearth,—</p> +<p>Alas! for love, if thou wert all,</p> +<p class="i2">And nought beyond, oh, earth!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<a name="page250a" id="page250a"></a> + +<h2>PLEDGE WITH WINE.</h2> + +<p style="line-height: 1%; margin-top: -0.5em;"> </p> +<p class="dropcap" ><span class="dcap">P</span> +<b>LEDGE</b> with wine—pledge with wine!" cried +the young and thoughtless Harry Wood. +"Pledge with wine," ran through the brilliant +crowd.</p> + +<p>The beautiful bride grew pale—the decisive hour +had come, she pressed her white hands together, +and the leaves of her bridal wreath trembled on her +pure brow; her breath came quicker, her heart +beat wilder.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Marion, lay aside your scruples for this +once," said the Judge, in a low tone, going towards +his daughter; "the company expect it, do not so +seriously infringe upon the rules of etiquette;—in +your own house act as you please; but in mine, for +this once please me."</p> + +<p>Every eye was turned towards the bridal pair. +Marion's principles were well known. Henry had +been a convivialist, but of late his friends noticed +the change in his manners, the difference in his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page251" id="page251"></a>[page 251]</span> +habits—and to-night they watched him to see, as +they sneeringly said, if he was tied down to a +woman's opinion so soon.</p> + +<p>Pouring a brimming beaker, they held it with +tempting smiles toward Marion. She was very +pale, though more composed, and her hand shook +not, as smiling back, she gratefully accepted the +crystal tempter and raised it to her lips. But +scarcely had she done so when every hand was +arrested by her piercing exclamation of "Oh, how +terrible!" "What is it?" cried one and all, thronging +together, for she had slowly carried the glass at +arm's length, and was fixedly regarding it as though +it were some hideous object.</p> + +<p>"Wait," she answered, while an inspired light +shone from her dark eyes, "wait and I will tell you. +I see," she added, slowly pointing one jewelled +finger at the sparkling ruby liquid, "A sight that +beggars all description; and yet listen; I will paint +it for you if I can: It is a lonely spot; tall +mountains, crowned with verdure, rise in awful +sublimity around; a river runs through, and bright +flowers grow to the waters' edge. There is a thick, +warm mist that the sun seeks vainly to pierce; +trees, lofty and beautiful, wave to the airy motion +of the birds; but there, a group of Indians gather; +they flit to and fro with something like sorrow upon +their dark brow; and in their midst lies a manly +form, but his cheek, how deathly; his eye wild +with the fitful fire of fever. One friend stands beside +him, nay, I should say kneels, for he is pillowing +that poor head upon his breast.</p> + +<p>"Genius in ruins. Oh! the high, holy looking +brow! Why should death mark it, and he so +young? Look how he throws the damp curls! see +him clasp his hands! hear his thrilling shrieks +for life! mark how he clutches at the form of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page252" id="page252"></a>[page 252]</span> +companion, imploring to be saved. Oh! hear him +call piteously his father's name; see him twine +his fingers, together as he shrieks for his sister—his +only sister—the twin of his soul—weeping for him +in his distant native land.</p> + +<p>"See!" she exclaimed, while the bridal party +shrank back, the untasted wine trembling in their +faltering grasp, and the Judge fell, overpowered, +upon his seat; "see! his arms are lifted to heaven; +he prays, how wildly, for mercy! hot fever rushes +through his veins. The friend beside him is weeping; +awe-stricken, the men move silently, and leave +the living and dying together."</p> + +<p>There was a hush in that princely parlor, broken +only by what seemed a smothered sob, from some +manly bosom. The bride stood yet upright, with +quivering lip, and tears stealing to the outward edge +of her lashes. Her beautiful arm had lost its +tension, and the glass, with its little troubled red +waves, came slowly towards the range of her +vision. She spoke again; every lip was mute. +Her voice was low, faint, yet awfully distinct: she +still fixed her sorrowful glance upon the wine-cup.</p> + +<p>"It is evening now; the great white moon is +coming up, and her beams lay gently on his +forehead. He moves not; his eyes are set in their +sockets; dim are their piercing glances; in vain +his friend whispers the name of father and sister—death +is there. Death! and no soft hand, no +gentle voice to bless and soothe him. His head +sinks back! one convulsive shudder! he is dead!"</p> + +<p>A groan ran through the assembly, so vivid +was her description, so unearthly her look, so +inspired her manner, that what she described +seemed actually to have taken place then and there. +They noticed also, that the bridegroom hid his +face in his hands and was weeping.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page253" id="page253"></a>[page 253]</span> + +<p>"Dead!" she repeated again, her lips quivering +faster and faster, and her voice more and more +broken; "and there they scoop him a grave; and +there without a shroud, they lay him down in the +damp reeking earth. The only son of a proud +father, the only idolized brother of a fond sister. +And he sleeps to-day in that distant country, with +no stone to mark the spot. There he lies—my +father's son—my own twin brother! a victim to +this deadly poison. Father," she exclaimed, turning +suddenly, while the tears rained down her beautiful +cheeks, "father, shall I drink it now?"</p> + +<p>The form of the old Judge was convulsed with +agony. He raised his head, but in a smothered +voice he faltered—"No, no, my child, in God's +name, no."</p> + +<p>She lifted the glittering goblet, and letting it +suddenly fall to the floor it was dashed into a +thousand pieces. Many a tearful eye watched her +movements, and instantaneously every wine-glass +was transferred to the marble table on which it had +been prepared. Then, as she looked at the +fragments of crystal, she turned to the company, +saying:—"Let no friend, hereafter, who loves me, +tempt me to peril my soul for wine. Not firmer +the everlasting hills than my resolve, God helping +me, never to touch or taste that terrible poison. +And he to whom I have given my hand; who +watched over my brother's dying form in that last +solemn hour, and buried the dear wanderer there +by the river in that land of gold, will, I trust, sustain +me in that resolve. Will you not, my husband?"</p> + +<p>His glistening eyes, his sad, sweet smile was +her answer.</p> + +<p>The Judge left the room, and when an hour later +he returned, and with a more subdued manner +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page254" id="page254"></a>[page 254]</span> +took part in the entertainment of the bridal guests, +no one could fail to read that he, too, had +determined to dash the enemy at once and forever +from his princely rooms.</p> + +<p>Those who were present at that wedding, can +never forget the impression so solemnly made. +Many from that hour forswore the social glass.</p> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="margin-top: 5em; margin-bottom: 5em;"><img src="images/lastpage_clear-300.png" width="300" height="251" alt="butterfly" border="0" /></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p class="center">W. NICHOLSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, WAKEFIELD.</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page255" id="page255"></a>[page 255]</span> + + +<table width="80%" align="center" summary="note" style="margin-top: 10em;"> +<tr><td class="advert"> + +<h3>RECITERS AND PENNY READINGS.</h3> + +<hr class="medium" /> + + +<h4>THE BEAUTIFUL RECITER;</h4> + +<p>Or a Collection of Entertaining, Pathetic, Witty, and +Humorous Pieces, and Dialogues, with a Selection of +Martial, and Oratorical Pieces, in Prose and Verse +Price 1s. 6d.</p> + + +<h4>THE EXCELSIOR RECITER;</h4> + +<p>Comprising Sentimental, Pathetic, Witty and Humourous +Pieces; Speeches, Narrations, &c., for Recitation at +Evening Parties, Social, Temperance and Band of Hope +Meetings. By Professor Duncan. Price 1s. 6d.</p> + + +<h4>PENNY READINGS and RECITATIONS;</h4> + +<p>In Prose and Verse, of most Interesting and Instructive +Subjects, Scientific, Historical, Witty, and Humorous. +Adapted for Evening Parties, &c. By Professor Duncan. +First & Second Series. 1s. 6d. Each.</p> + + +<h4>THE CHOICE RECITER;</h4> + +<p>For Evening Orations, and Beautiful and Humorous Readings +for the entertainment of Social, Temperance and +other Popular Gatherings. By Professor Duncan. 1s.</p> + + +<h4>THE TEMPERANCE ORATOR;</h4> + +<p>Comprising Speeches, Readings, Dialogues, and Illustrations +of the Evils of Intemperance, &c., in Prose & Verse. +By Professor Duncan. 1s.</p> + +<p>Recitations from SHAKESPERE, and other +Popular Authors. By Professor Duncan. 6d.</p> + + +<h4>THE RECITER FOR THE MILLIONS;</h4> + +<p>Consisting of Entertaining, Comic, and Humorous Pieces, +Prose and Poetry, many of which are original. By Professor +Duncan. Cloth 9d. Stiff Covers 6d.</p> + + +<h4>THE SABBATH SCHOOL RECITER,</h4> + +<p>Adapted for Anniversaries, Tea Parties, Band of Hope +Meetings, Social Gatherings, &c. Price 1s. Bound, can +also be had in 2 Parts, at 6d. each.</p> + + +<p>The TEMPERANCE SPEAKER, First & Second +Series, Price 6d. each. Bound together, Cloth, 1s.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4><span class="sc">London: Published by W NICHOLSON & SONS,</span></h4> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h5 style="margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: -1em">20, WARWICK SQUARE, PATERNOSTER ROW. E.C.</h5> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256" id="page256"></a>[page 256]</span> +</td></tr></table> + + +<table width="80%" align="center" summary="note" style="margin-top: 10em;"> +<tr><td class="advert"> + +<h3>Humorous Books.</h3> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Published by W. Nicholson & Sons, <i>London</i>.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<h4>PUNCH MADE FUNNIER BY JUDY.</h4> + +<p>Full of Rollicking, Laughable, and Witty Pieces. 6d.</p> + + +<h4>JOLLY LAUGHS FOR JOLLY FOLKS,</h4> + +<p>Or Funny Jests and Stories, Jocular and Laughable Anecdotes, +Jonathanisms, John Bullers, and Paddyisms. 6d.</p> + + +<h4>THE BOOK TO MAKE YOU LAUGH;</h4> + +<p>And to drive dull care away. By Andrew Hate-Gloom. +Cloth Gilt Side 9d. Stiff Covers 6d. 1d extra by Post.</p> + + +<h4>THE RAILWAY BOOK OF FUN;</h4> + +<p>Comprising some of the Choicest Specimens of Anecdote, +Wit, Humour, Poetical Effusions, &c., extant. +By Richard Brisk Esq. Cloth, 1s. By Post 1s 2d.</p> + + +<h4>THE MERRY COMPANION</h4> + +<p>For all readers. Containing a Choice Selection of the +most Humorous Anecdotes, Droll Sayings, Wit, Fun, +and Comical Incidents, in Prose and Poetry. To enliven +dull hours. By Dr Merry. Cloth, 1s. By Post 1s 2d.</p> + + +<h4>THE BOOK TO KEEP THE SPIRITS UP</h4> + +<p>In dull and gloomy hours. Comprising Manifestations +of Fun, Mirth, Humour, Drollery, Repartee, Wit, with +Laughable Anecdotes, Incidents and Poetry. By John +Brighte Esq. Price 1s. By Post 2d. extra.</p> + + +<h4>THE BOOK TO BRIGHTEN A GLOOMY FACE:</h4> + +<p>Or the Book to kill Gloom, Melancholy, Low Spirits, Nervousness, +Solemncholy, Dark Anticipations, Soul-killing +Forbodings, and thoughts of Suicide. By Cicero Merrysides. +Price 1s. By Post 1s. 2d.</p> + + +<p>The FUNNIEST OF ALL FUN, and WITTIEST +OF ALL WIT. Containing Jaw Cracking Tales. 1s.</p> + +<p>"<i>A Cheerful heart robs the Physician of his fee.</i>"—<i>Virgil.</i></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: -1em;">Catalogues may be had on Application.</h4> + +</td></tr></table> + + + +<a name="tn" id="tn"></a> + +<table align="center" summary="note" style="margin-top: 10em;"> +<tr><td class="note"> +<h4>Transcriber's Note:</h4> + +<p>There are a few pieces which contain some dialect. +All dialect, period spelling, etc., has been preserved.</p> + +<h4>Errata - old typos:</h4> + +<p>Obvious punctuation errors have been repaired.</p> + +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections.</p> +<p style="margin-top:-1em;">Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p> + + + + +<p class="center"> +<a href="#return">[Return to Top]</a></p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Universal Reciter, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNIVERSAL RECITER *** + +***** This file should be named 29477-h.htm or 29477-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/7/29477/ + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Jason Isbell, Afra Ullah and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> + + + + |