summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
diff options
context:
space:
mode:
Diffstat
-rw-r--r--.gitattributes3
-rw-r--r--36150-8.txt3939
-rw-r--r--36150-8.zipbin0 -> 51552 bytes
-rw-r--r--36150-h.zipbin0 -> 224941 bytes
-rw-r--r--36150-h/36150-h.htm4424
-rw-r--r--36150-h/images/002.pngbin0 -> 4596 bytes
-rw-r--r--36150-h/images/frontis.jpgbin0 -> 174328 bytes
-rw-r--r--36150.txt3939
-rw-r--r--36150.zipbin0 -> 51533 bytes
-rw-r--r--LICENSE.txt11
-rw-r--r--README.md2
11 files changed, 12318 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/36150-8.txt b/36150-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..06b5cee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/36150-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,3939 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Lyrics, by Eugene Field
+
+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: Hoosier Lyrics
+
+Author: Eugene Field
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2011 [EBook #36150]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER LYRICS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Eugene Field]
+
+
+
+
+ HOOSIER
+ LYRICS
+
+ BY
+
+ EUGENE FIELD
+
+ AUTHOR OF
+ THE CLINK OF THE ICE, JOHN SMITH,
+ U. S. A., IN WINK-A-WAY-LAND, ETC.
+
+ M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
+ CHICAGO, ILL.
+
+
+
+
+ SELECTED WORKS _of_ EUGENE FIELD
+
+ _Uniform with this volume_
+
+ The Clink of the Ice
+ Hoosier Lyrics
+ In Wink-a-Way Land
+ John Smith, U. S. A.
+
+ _Four volumes, boxed, $3.00_
+
+ _Single volumes, 75 cents, postpaid_
+
+ M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
+ 701-727 S. DEARBORN ST. CHICAGO
+
+ Copyright, 1905
+ M. A. Donohue & Co.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+From whatever point of view the character of Eugene Field is seen,
+genius--rare and quaint presents itself in childlike simplicity. That he
+was a poet of keen perception, of rare discrimination, all will admit.
+He was a humorist as delicate and fanciful as Artemus Ward, Mark Twain,
+Bill Nye, James Whitcomb Riley, Opie Read, or Bret Harte in their
+happiest moods. Within him ran a poetic vein, capable of being worked in
+any direction, and from which he could, at will, extract that which his
+imagination saw and felt most. That he occasionally left the
+child-world, in which he longed to linger, to wander among the older
+children of men, where intuitively the hungry listener follows him into
+his Temple of Mirth, all should rejoice, for those who knew him not, can
+while away the moments imbibing the genius of his imagination in the
+poetry and prose here presented.
+
+Though never possessing an intimate acquaintanceship with Field, owing
+largely to the disparity in our ages, still there existed a bond of
+friendliness that renders my good opinion of him in a measure
+trustworthy. Born in the same city, both students in the same college,
+engaged at various times in newspaper work both in St. Louis and
+Chicago, residents of the same ward, with many mutual friends, it is not
+surprising that I am able to say of him that "the world is better off
+that he lived, not in gold and silver or precious jewels, but in the
+bestowal of priceless truths, of which the possessor of this book
+becomes a benefactor of no mean share of his estate."
+
+Every lover of Field, whether of the songs of childhood or the poems
+that lend mirth to the out-pouring of his poetic nature, will welcome
+this unique collection of his choicest wit and humor.
+
+ CHARLES WALTER Brown.
+
+Chicago, January, 1905.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+ PAGE.
+
+ Hoosier Lyrics Paraphrased 9
+
+ Gettin' On 14
+
+ Minnie Lee 16
+
+ Answer to Minnie Lee 17
+
+ Lizzie 18
+
+ Our Lady of the Mine 20
+
+ Penn-Yan Bill 25
+
+ Ed 31
+
+ How Salty Win Out 33
+
+ His Queen 36
+
+ Answer to His Queen 37
+
+ Alaskan Balladry--Skans in Love 38
+
+ The Biggest Fish 39
+
+ Bonnie Jim Campbell 42
+
+ Lyman, Frederick and Jim 44
+
+ A Wail 46
+
+ Clendenin's Lament 48
+
+ On the Wedding of G. C. 49
+
+ To G. C. 51
+
+ To Dr. F. W. R. 52
+
+ Horace's Ode to "Lydia" Roche 54
+
+ A Paraphrase, Circa 1715 56
+
+ A Paraphrase, Ostensibly by Dr. I. W. 57
+
+ Horace I., 27 58
+
+ Heine's "Widow or Daughter" 59
+
+ Horace II., 20 60
+
+ Horace's Spring Poem, Odes I., 4 62
+
+ Horace to Ligurine, Odes IV., 10 64
+
+ Horace on His Muscle, Epode VI. 65
+
+ Horace to Maecenas, Odes III., 29 66
+
+ Horace in Love Again, Epode XI. 68
+
+ "Good-By--God Bless You!" 70
+
+ Horace, Epode XIV. 72
+
+ Horace I., 23 74
+
+ A Paraphrase 75
+
+ A Paraphrase by Chaucer 76
+
+ Horace I., 5 77
+
+ Horace I., 20 78
+
+ Envoy 78
+
+ Horace II., 7 79
+
+ Horace I., 11 81
+
+ Horace I., 13 82
+
+ Horace IV., 1 83
+
+ Horace to His Patron 85
+
+ The "Ars Poetica" of Horace--XVIII. 87
+
+ Horace I., 34 88
+
+ Horace I., 33 89
+
+ The "Ars Poetica" of Horace I. 91
+
+ The Great Journalist in Spain 93
+
+ Reid, the Candidate 95
+
+ A Valentine 97
+
+ Kissing-Time 98
+
+ The Fifth of July 100
+
+ Picnic-Time 101
+
+ The Romance of a Watch 103
+
+ Our Baby 104
+
+ The Color that Suits Me Best 106
+
+ How to "Fill" 108
+
+ Politics in 1888 109
+
+ The Baseball Score 110
+
+ Chicago Newspaper Life 112
+
+ The Mighty West 114
+
+ April 116
+
+ Report of the Baseball Game 118
+
+ The Rose 120
+
+ Kansas City vs. Detroit 121
+
+ Me and Bilkammle 122
+
+ To the Detroit Baseball Club 124
+
+ A Ballad of Ancient Oaths 125
+
+ An Old Song Revised 128
+
+ The Grateful Patient 130
+
+ The Beginning and the End 131
+
+ Clare Market 133
+
+ Uncle Ephraim 135
+
+ Thirty-Nine 138
+
+ Horace I., 18 141
+
+ Three Rineland Drinking Songs 143
+
+ The Three Tailors 147
+
+ Morning Hymn 150
+
+ Doctors 151
+
+ Ben Apfelgarten 155
+
+ In Holland 158
+
+
+
+
+HOOSIER LYRICS PARAPHRASED.
+
+
+
+ We've come from Indiany, five hundred miles or more,
+ Supposin' we wuz goin' to get the nominashin, shore;
+ For Col. New assured us (in that noospaper o' his)
+ That we cud hev the airth, if we'd only tend to biz.
+ But here we've been a-slavin' more like bosses than like men
+ To diskiver that the people do not hanker arter Ben;
+ It _is_ fur Jeems G. Blaine an' _not_ for Harrison they shout--
+ And the gobble-uns 'el git us
+ Ef we
+ Don't
+ Watch
+ Out!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ When I think of the fate that is waiting for Ben,
+ I pine for the peace of my childhood again;
+ I wish in my sorrow I could strip to the soul
+ And hop off once more in the old swimmin' hole!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ The world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew
+ (Which is another word for soup) that drips for me and you.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ "Little Benjy! Little Benjy!" chirps the robin in the tree;
+ "Little Benjy!" sighs the clover, "Little Benjy!" moans the bee;
+ "Little Benjy! Little Benjy!" murmurs John C. New,
+ A-stroking down the whiskers which the winds have whistled through.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Looks jest like his grampa, who's dead these many years--
+ He wears the hat his grampa wore, pulled down below his ears;
+ We'd like to have him four years more, but if he cannot stay--
+ Nothin' to say, good people; nothin' at all to say!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ There, little Ben, don't cry!
+ They have busted your boom, I know;
+ And the second term
+ For which you squirm
+ Has gone where good niggers go!
+ But Blaine is safe, and the goose hangs high--
+ There, little Ben, don't cry!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Mabbe we'll git even for this unexpected shock,
+ When the frost is on the pumpkin and the fodder's in the shock!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Oh, the newspaper man! He works for paw;
+ He's the liveliest critter 'at ever you saw;
+ With whiskers 'at reach f'om his eyes to his throat.
+ He knows how to wheedle and rivet a vote;
+ He wunst wuz a consul 'way over the sea--
+ But never again a consul he'll be!
+ He come back f'om Lon'on one mornin' in May--
+ He come back for bizness, an' here he will stay--
+ Ain't he a awful slick newspaper man?
+ A newspaper, newspaper, newspaper man!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ You kin talk about yer cities where the politicians meet--
+ You kin talk about yer cities where a decent man gits beat;
+ With the general run o' human kind I beg to disagree--
+ The little town of Tailholt is good enough f'r me!
+
+ Chicago was a pleasant town in eighteen-eighty-eight,
+ And I have lived in Washington long time in splendid state;
+ But all the present prospects are that after ninety-three
+ The little town o' Tailholt 'll be good enough f'r me!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ "I wunst lived in Indiany," said a consul, gaunt and grim,
+ As most of us Blaine delegates wuz kind o' guyin' him;
+ "I wunst lived in Indiany, and my views wuz widely read,
+ Fur I run a daily paper w'ich 'Lije Halford edited;
+ But since I've been away f'm home, my paper (seems to me)
+ Ain't nearly such a inflooence ez wot it used to be;
+ So, havin' done with consulin', I'm goin' to make a break
+ Towards making of a paper like the one I used to make."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Think, if you kin, of his term mos' through,
+ An' that ol' man wantin' a secon' term, too;
+ Picture him bendin' over the form
+ Of his consul-gineril, stanch an' grim,
+ Who has stood the brunt of that jimblain storm--
+ An' that ol' man jest wrapt up in him!
+ An' the consul-gineril, with eyes all bleared
+ An' a haunted look in his ashen beard,
+ Kind o' gaspin' a feeble way--
+ But soothed to hear the ol' man say
+ In a meaning tone (as one well may
+ When words are handy and ----'s to pay):
+ "Good-by, John; take care of yo'_self_!"
+
+
+
+
+GETTIN' ON.
+
+
+ When I wuz somewhat younger,
+ I wuz reckoned purty gay--
+ I had my fling at everything
+ In a rollickin', coltish way,
+ But times have strangely altered
+ Since sixty years ago--
+ This age of steam an' things don't seem
+ Like the age I used to know,
+ Your modern innovations
+ Don't suit me, I confess,
+ As did the ways of the good ol' days--
+ But I'm gettin' on, I guess.
+
+ I set on the piazza
+ An' hitch around with the sun--
+ Sometimes, mayhap, I take a nap,
+ Waitin' till school is done,
+ An' then I tell the children
+ The things I done in youth,
+ An' near as I can (as a venerable man)
+ I stick to the honest truth!
+ But the looks of them 'at listen
+ Seems sometimes to express
+ The remote idee that I'm gone--you see!
+ An' I am gettin' on, I guess.
+
+ I get up in the mornin',
+ An' nothin' else to do,
+ Before the rest are up and dressed
+ I read the papers through;
+ I hang 'round with the women
+ All day an' hear 'em talk,
+ An' while they sew or knit I show
+ The baby how to walk;
+ An' somehow, I feel sorry
+ When they put away his dress
+ An' cut his curls ('cause they're like a girl's)--
+ I'm gettin' on, I guess!
+
+ Sometimes, with twilight round me,
+ I see (or seem to see)
+ A distant shore where friends of yore
+ Linger and watch for me;
+ Sometimes I've heered 'em callin'
+ So tenderlike 'nd low
+ That it almost seemed like a dream I dreamed,
+ Or an echo of long ago;
+ An' sometimes on my forehead
+ There falls a soft caress,
+ Or the touch of a hand--you understand--
+ I'm gettin' on, I guess.
+
+
+
+
+MINNIE LEE.
+
+
+Writing from an Indiana town a young woman asks: "Is the enclosed poem
+worth anything?"
+
+We find that the poem is as follows:
+
+ She has left us, our own darling--
+ And we never more shall see
+ Here on earth our dearly loved one--
+ God has taken Minnie Lee.
+
+ Her heart was full of goodness
+ And her face was fair to see
+ And her life was full of beauty--
+ How we miss our Minnie Lee!
+
+ But her work on earth is over
+ And her spirit now is free
+ She has gone to live in heaven--
+ Shall we weep for Minnie Lee?
+
+ Would we call our angel darling
+ Back again across the sea?
+ No! but sometime up in heaven
+ We will meet loved Minnie Lee.
+
+
+To the question as to whether this poem is worth anything we chose to
+answer in verse as follows:
+
+ Sweet poetess, your poetry
+ Is bad as bad can be,
+ And yet we heartily deplore
+ The death of Minnie Lee.
+
+ It would have pleased us better
+ If, in His wisdom, He
+ Had taken you, sweet poetess,
+ Instead of Minnie Lee.
+
+ Your turn will come, however,
+ And swift and sure 'twill be
+ If you continue sending
+ Your rhymes on Minnie Lee.
+
+ From this we hope you will gather
+ A dim surmise that we
+ Don't take much stock in poems
+ Concerning Minnie Lee.
+
+
+
+
+LIZZIE.
+
+
+ I wonder ef all wimmin air
+ Like Lizzie is when we go out
+ To theaters an' concerts where
+ Is things the papers talk about.
+ Do other wimmin fret and stew
+ Like they wuz bein' crucified--
+ Frettin' a show or a concert through,
+ With wonderin' ef the baby cried?
+
+ Now Lizzie knows that gran'ma's there
+ To see that everything is right,
+ Yet Lizzie thinks that gran'ma's care
+ Ain't good enuf f'r baby, quite;
+ Yet what am I to answer when
+ She kind uv fidgets at my side,
+ An' every now and then;
+ "I wonder ef the baby cried?"
+
+ Seems like she seen two little eyes
+ A-pinin' f'r their mother's smile--
+ Seems like she heern the pleadin' cries
+ Uv one she thinks uv all the while;
+ An' she's sorry that she come,
+ 'An' though she allus tries to hide
+ The truth, she'd ruther stay to hum
+ Than wonder ef the baby cried.
+
+ Yes, wimmin folks is all alike--
+ By Lizzie you kin jedge the rest.
+ There never was a little tyke,
+ But that his mother loved him best,
+ And nex' to bein' what I be--
+ The husband of my gentle bride--
+ I'd wisht I wuz that croodlin' wee,
+ With Lizzie wonderin' ef I cried.
+
+
+
+
+OUR LADY OF THE MINE.
+
+
+ The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all thought well uv,
+ And there befell the episode I now perpose to tell uv;
+ 'Twuz in the year of sixty-nine--somewhere along in summer--
+ There hove in sight one afternoon a new and curious comer;
+ His name wuz Silas Pettibone--an artist by perfession,
+ With a kit of tools and a big mustache and a pipe in his possession;
+ He told us, by our leave, he'd kind uv like to make some sketches
+ Uv the snowy peaks, 'nd the foamin' crick, 'nd the distant mountain
+ stretches;
+ "You're welkim, sir," sez we, although this scenery dodge seemed to us
+ A waste uv time where scenery wuz already sooper-_floo_-us.
+
+ All through the summer Pettibone kep' busy at his sketchin'--
+ At daybreak, off for Eagle Pass, and home at nightfall, fetchin'
+ That everlastin' book uv his with spider lines all through it--
+ Three-Fingered Hoover used to say there warn't no meanin' to it--
+ "God durn a man," sez he to him, "whose shif'less hand is sot at
+ A-drawin' hills that's full of quartz that's pinin' to be got at!"
+ "Go on," sez Pettibone, "go on, if joshin' gratifies ye,
+ But one uv these fine times, I'll show ye sumthin' will surprise ye!"
+ The which remark led us to think--although he didn't say it--
+ That Pettibone wuz owin' us a gredge 'nd meant to pay it.
+
+ One evenin' as we sat around the restauraw de Casey,
+ A-singin' songs 'nd tellin' yarns the which wuz sumwhat racy,
+ In come that feller Pettibone 'nd sez: "With your permission
+ I'd like to put a picture I have made on exhibition."
+ He sot the picture on the bar 'nd drew aside its curtain,
+ Sayin': "I recken you'll allow as how _that's_ art, f'r certain!"
+ And then we looked, with jaws agape, but nary word wuz spoken,
+ And f'r a likely spell the charm uv silence wuz unbroken--
+ Till presently, as in a dream, remarked Three-Fingered Hoover:
+ "Onless I am mistaken, this is Pettibone's shef doover!"
+ It wuz a face, a human face--a woman's, fair 'nd tender,
+ Sot gracefully upon a neck white as a swan's, and slender;
+ The hair wuz kind of sunny, 'nd the eyes wuz sort uv dreamy,
+ The mouth wuz half a-smilin', 'nd the cheeks wuz soft 'nd creamy;
+ It seemed like she wuz lookin' off into the west out yonder,
+ And seemed like, while she looked, we saw her eyes grow softer,
+ fonder--
+ Like, lookin' off into the west where mountain mists wuz fallin',
+ She saw the face she longed to see and heerd his voice a-callin';
+ "Hooray!" we cried; "a woman in the camp uv Blue Horizon--
+ Step right up, Colonel Pettibone, 'nd nominate your pizen!"
+
+ A curious situation--one deservin' uv your pity--
+ No human, livin' female thing this side of Denver City!
+ But jest a lot uv husky men that lived on sand 'nd bitters--
+ Do you wonder that that woman's face consoled the lonesome critters?
+ And not a one but what it served in some way to remind him
+ Of a mother or a sister or a sweetheart left behind him--
+ And some looked back on happier days and saw the old-time faces
+ And heerd the dear familiar sounds in old familiar places--
+ A gracious touch of home--"Look here," sez Hoover, "ever'body
+ Quit thinkin' 'nd perceed at oncet to name his favorite toddy!"
+
+ It wuzn't long afore the news had spread the country over,
+ And miners come a-flockin' in like honey bees to clover;
+ It kind uv did 'em good they said, to feast their hungry eyes on
+ That picture uv Our Lady in the camp uv Blue Horizon.
+ But one mean cuss from Nigger Crick passed criticisms on 'er--
+ Leastwise we overheerd him call her Pettibone's madonner,
+ The which we did not take to be respectful to a lady--
+ So we hung him in a quiet spot that wuz cool 'nd dry 'nd shady;
+ Which same might not have been good law, but it _wuz_ the right
+ maneuver
+ To give the critics due respect for Pettibone's shef doover.
+
+ Gone is the camp--yes, years ago, the Blue Horizon busted,
+ And every mother's son uv us got up one day 'nd dusted,
+ While Pettibone perceeded east with wealth in his possession
+ And went to Yurrup, as I heerd, to study his perfession;
+ So, like as not, you'll find him now a-paintin' heads 'nd faces
+ At Venus, Billy Florence and the like I-talyun places--
+ But no such face he'll paint again as at old Blue Horizon,
+ For I'll allow no sweeter face no human soul sot eyes on;
+ And when the critics talk so grand uv Paris 'nd the loover,
+ I say: "Oh, but you orter seen the Pettibone shef doover!"
+
+
+
+
+PENN-YAN BILL.
+
+
+ I.
+
+ In gallus old Kentucky, where the grass is very blue,
+ Where the liquor is the smoothest and the girls are fair and true,
+ Where the crop of he-gawd gentlemen is full of heart and sand,
+ And the stock of four-time winners is the finest in the land;
+ Where the democratic party in bourbon hardihood
+ For more than half a century unterrified has stood,
+ Where nod the black-eyed Susans to the prattle of the rill--
+ There--there befell the wooing of Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ II.
+
+ Down yonder in the cottage that is nestling in the shade
+ Of the walnut trees that seem to love that quiet little glade
+ Abides a pretty maiden of the bonny name of Sue--
+ As pretty as the black-eyed flow'rs and quite as modest, too;
+ And lovers came there by the score, of every age and kind,
+ But not a one (the story goes) was quite to Susie's mind.
+ Their sighs, their protestations, and their pleadings made her ill--
+ Till at once upon the scene hove Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ III.
+
+ He came from old Montana and he rode a broncho mare,
+ He had a rather howd'y'do and rough-and-tumble air;
+ His trousers were of buckskin and his coat of furry stuff--
+ His hat was drab of color and its brim was wide enough;
+ Upon each leg a stalwart boot reached just above the knee,
+ And in the belt about his waist his weepons carried he;
+ A rather strapping lover for our little Susie--still,
+ _She_ was _his_ choice and _he_ was _hers_, was Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ IV.
+
+ We wonder that the ivy seeks out the oaken tree,
+ And twines her tendrils round him, though scarred and gnarled he be;
+ We wonder that a gentle girl, unused to worldly cares,
+ Should choose a man whose life has been a constant scrap with bears;
+ Ah, 'tis the nature of the vine, and of the maiden, too--
+ So when the bold Montana boy came from his lair to woo,
+ The fair Kentucky blossom felt all her heartstrings thrill
+ Responsive to the purring of Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ V.
+
+ He told her of his cabin in the mountains far away,
+ Of the catamount that howls by night, the wolf that yawps by day;
+ He told her of the grizzly with the automatic jaw,
+ He told her of the Injun who devours his victims raw;
+ Of the jayhawk with his tawdry crest and whiskers in his throat,
+ Of the great gosh-awful sarpent and the Rocky mountain goat.
+ A book as big as Shakespeare's or as Webster's you could fill
+ With the yarns that emanated from Penn-Yan Bill!
+
+
+ VI.
+
+ Lo, as these mighty prodigies the westerner relates,
+ Her pretty mouth falls wide agape--her eyes get big as plates;
+ And when he speaks of varmints that in the Rockies grow
+ She shudders and she clings to him and timidly cries "Oh!"
+ And then says he: "Dear Susie, I'll tell you what to do--
+ You be my wife, and none of these 'ere things dare pester you!"
+ And she? She answers, clinging close and trembling yet: "I will."
+ And then he gives her one big kiss, does Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ VII.
+
+ Avaunt, ye poet lovers, with your wishywashy lays!
+ Avaunt, ye solemn pedants, with your musty, bookish ways!
+ Avaunt, ye smurking dandies who air your etiquette
+ Upon the gold your fathers worked so long and hard to get!
+ How empty is your nothingness beside the sturdy tales
+ Which mountaineers delight to tell of border hills and vales--
+ Of snaix that crawl, of beasts that yowl, of birds that flap and trill
+ In the wild egregious altitude of Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ VIII.
+
+ Why, over all these mountain peaks his honest feet have trod--
+ So high above the rest of us he seemed to walk with God;
+ He's breathed the breath of heaven, as it floated, pure and free,
+ From the everlasting snow-caps to the mighty western sea;
+ And he's heard that awful silence which thunders in the ear:
+ "There is a great Jehovah, and His biding place is here!"
+ These--these solemn voices and these the sights that thrill
+ In the far-away Montana of Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ IX.
+
+ Of course she had to love him, for it was her nature to;
+ And she'll wed him in the summer, if all we hear be true.
+ The blue grass will be waving in that cool Kentucky glade
+ Where the black-eyed Susans cluster in the pleasant walnut shade--
+ Where the doves make mournful music and the locust trills a song
+ To the brook that through the pasture scampers merrily along;
+ And speechless pride and rapture ineffable shall fill
+ The beatific bosom of Penn-Yan Bill!
+
+
+
+
+ED.
+
+
+ Ed was a man that played for keeps, 'nd when he tuk the notion,
+ You cudn't stop him any more'n a dam 'ud stop the ocean;
+ For when he tackled to a thing 'nd sot his mind plum to it,
+ You bet yer boots he done that thing though it broke the bank to do
+ it!
+ So all us boys uz knowed him best allowed he wusn't jokin'
+ When on a Sunday he remarked uz how he'd gin up smokin'.
+ Now this remark, that Ed let fall, fell, ez I say, on Sunday--
+ Which is the reason we wuz shocked to see him sail in Monday
+ A-puffin' at a snipe that sizzled like a Chinese cracker
+ An' smelt fur all the world like rags instead uv like terbacker;
+ Recoverin' from our first surprise, us fellows fell to pokin'
+ A heap uv fun at "folks uz said how they had gin up smokin'."
+ But Ed--sez he: "I found my work cud not be done without it--
+ Jes' try the scheme yourself, my friends, ef any uv you doubt it!
+ It's hard, I know, upon one's health, but there's a certain beauty
+ In makin' sackerfices to the stern demand uv duty!
+ So, wholly in a sperrit uv denial 'nd concession
+ I mortify the flesh 'nd fur the sake uv my perfession!"
+
+
+
+
+HOW SALTY WIN OUT.
+
+
+ Used to think that luck wuz luck and nuthin' else but luck--
+ It made no diff'rence how or when or where or why it struck;
+ But sev'ral years ago I changt my mind and now proclaim
+ That luck's a kind uv science--same as any other game;
+ It happened out in Denver in the spring uv '80, when
+ Salty teched a humpback an' win out ten.
+
+ Salty wuz a printer in the good ol' Tribune days,
+ An', natural-like, he fell in love with the good ol' Tribune ways;
+ So, every Sunday evenin' he would sit into the game
+ Which in this crowd uv thoroughbreds I think I need not name;
+ An' there he'd sit until he rose, an', when he rose he wore
+ Invariably less wealth about his person than before.
+
+ But once there come a powerful change; one sollum Sunday night
+ Occurred the tidle wave what put ol' Salty out o' sight!
+ He win on deuce an' ace an' jack--he win on king an' queen--
+ Cliff Bill allowed the like uv how he win wuz never seen!
+ An' how he done it wuz revealed to all us fellers when
+ He said he teched a humpback to win out ten.
+
+ There must be somethin' in it for he never win afore,
+ An' when he tole the crowd about the humpback, how they swore!
+ For every sport allows it is a losin' game to buck
+ Agin the science of a man who's teched a hump f'r luck;
+ An' there is no denyin' luck was nowhere in it when
+ Salty teched a humpback an' win out ten.
+
+ I've had queer dreams an' seen queer things, an' allus tried to do
+ The thing that luck apparrently intended f'r me to;
+ Cats, funerils, cripples, beggars have I treated with regard,
+ An' charity subscriptions have hit me powerful hard;
+ But what's the use uv talkin'? I say, an' say again;
+ You've got to tech a humpback to win out ten!
+
+ So, though I used to think that luck wuz lucky, I'll allow
+ That luck, for luck, agin a hump ain't nowhere in it now!
+ An' though I can't explain the whys an' wherefores, I maintain
+ There must be somethin' in it when the tip's so straight an' plain;
+ For I wuz there an' seen it, an' got full with Salty when
+ Salty teched a humpback and win out ten!
+
+
+
+
+HIS QUEEN.
+
+
+Our gifted and genial friend, Mr. William J. Florence, the comedian,
+takes to verses as naturally as a canvas-back duck takes to celery
+sauce. As a balladist he has few equals and no superiors, and when it
+comes to weaving compliments to the gentler sex he is without a peer. We
+find in the New York Mirror the latest verses from Mr. Florence's pen;
+they are entitled "Pasadene," and the first stanza flows in this wise:
+
+ I've journeyed East, I've journeyed West,
+ And fair Italia's fields I've seen;
+ But I declare
+ None can compare
+ With thee, my rose-crowned Pasadene.
+
+Following this introduction come five stanzas heaping even more glowing
+compliments upon this Miss Pasadene--whoever she may be--we know her
+not. They are handsome compliments, beautifully phrased, yet they give
+us the heartache, for we know Mrs. Florence, and it grieves us to see
+her husband dribbling away his superb intellect in penning verses to
+other women. Yet we think we understand it all; these poets have a
+pretty way of hymning the virtues of their wives under divers aliases.
+So, catching the afflatus of the genial actor-poet's muse, we would
+answer:
+
+ Come, now, who is this Pasadene
+ That such a whirl of praises warrant?
+ And is a rose
+ Her only clo'es?
+ Oh, fie upon you, Billy Florence!
+
+ Ah, no; that's your poetic way
+ Of turning loose your rhythmic torrents--
+ This Pasadene
+ Is not your queen--
+ We know you know we know it, Florence!
+
+ So sing your songs of women folks--
+ We'll read without the least abhorrence,
+ Because we know
+ Through weal and woe
+ Your queen is Mrs. Billy Florence!
+
+
+
+
+ALASKAN BALLADRY.--III.
+
+(Skans in Love.)
+
+
+ I am like the wretched seal
+ Wounded by a barbed device--
+ Helpless fellow! how I bellow,
+ Floundering on the jagged ice!
+
+ Sitka's beauty is the steel
+ That hath wrought this piteous woe:
+ Yet would I rather die
+ Than recover from the blow!
+
+ Still I'd rather live than die,
+ Grievous though my torment be;
+ Smite away, but, I pray,
+ Smite no victim else than me!
+
+
+
+
+THE BIGGEST FISH.
+
+
+ When, in the halcyon days of old, I was a little tyke,
+ I used to fish in pickerel ponds for minnows and the like;
+ And, oh, the bitter sadness with which my soul was fraught
+ When I rambled home at nightfall with the puny string I'd caught!
+ And, oh, the indignation and the valor I'd display
+ When I claimed that all the biggest fish I'd caught had got away!
+
+ Sometimes it was the rusty hooks, sometimes the fragile lines,
+ And many times the treacherous reeds were actually to blame.
+ I kept right on at losing all the monsters just the same--
+ I never lost a _little_ fish--yes, I am free to say
+ It always was the _biggest_ fish I caught that got away.
+ And so it was, when, later on, I felt ambition pass
+ From callow minnow joys to nobler greed for pike and bass;
+ I found it quite convenient, when the beauties wouldn't bite
+ And I returned all bootless from the watery chase at night,
+ To feign a cheery aspect and recount in accents gay
+ How the biggest fish that I had caught had somehow got away.
+
+ And, really, fish look bigger than they are before they're caught--
+ When the pole is bent into a bow and the slender line is taut,
+ When a fellow feels his heart rise up like a doughnut in his throat
+ And he lunges in a frenzy up and down the leaky boat!
+ Oh, you who've been a-fishing will indorse me when I say
+ That it always _is_ the biggest fish you catch that gets away!
+
+ 'Tis even so in other things--yes, in our greedy eyes
+ The biggest boon is some elusive, never-captured prize;
+ We angle for the honors and the sweets of human life--
+ Like fishermen we brave the seas that roll in endless strife;
+ And then at last, when all is done and we are spent and gray,
+ We own the biggest fish we've caught are those that get away.
+
+ I would not have it otherwise; 'tis better there should be
+ Much bigger fish than I have caught a-swimming in the sea;
+ For now some worthier one than I may angle for that game--
+ May by his arts entice, entrap, and comprehend the same;
+ Which, having done, perchance he'll bless the man who's proud to say
+ That the biggest fish he ever caught were those that got away.
+
+
+
+
+BONNIE JIM CAMPBELL: A LEGISLATIVE MEMORY.
+
+
+ Bonnie Jim Campbell rode up the glen,
+ But it wasn't to meet the butterine men;
+ It wasn't Phil Armour he wanted to see,
+ Nor Haines nor Crafts--though their friend was he.
+ Jim Campbell was guileless as man could be--
+ No fraud in his heart had he;
+ 'Twas all on account of his character's sake
+ That he sought that distant Wisconsin lake.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Bonnie Jim Campbell came riding home,
+ And now he sits in the rural gloam;
+ A tear steals furtively down his nose
+ As salt as the river that yonder flows;
+ To the setting sun and the rising moon
+ He plaintively warbles the good old tune:
+
+ "Of all the drinks that ever were made--
+ From sherbet to circus lemonade--
+ Not one's so healthy and sweet, I vow,
+ As the rich, thick cream of the Elgin cow!
+ Oh, that she were here to enliven the scene,
+ Right merry would be our hearts, I ween;
+ Then, then again, Bob Wilbanks and I
+ Would take it by turns and milk her dry!
+ We would stuff her paunch with the best of hay
+ And milk her a hundred times a day!"
+
+ 'Tis thus that Bonnie Jim Campbell sings--
+ A young he-angel with sprouting wings;
+ He sings and he prays that Fate'll allow
+ Him one more whack at the Elgin cow!
+
+
+
+
+LYMAN, FREDERICK AND JIM.
+
+
+ Lyman and Frederick and Jim, one day,
+ Set out in a great big ship--
+ Steamed to the ocean down to the bay
+ Out of a New York slip.
+ "Where are you going and what is your game?"
+ The people asked to those three.
+ "Darned, if we know; but all the same
+ Happy as larks are we;
+ And happier still we're going to be!"
+ Said Lyman
+ And Frederick
+ And Jim.
+
+ The people laughed "Aha, oho!
+ Oho, aha!" laughed they;
+ And while those three went sailing so
+ Some pirates steered that way.
+ The pirates they were laughing, too--
+ The prospect made them glad;
+ But by the time the job was through
+ Each of them pirates bold and bad,
+ Had been done out of all he had
+ By Lyman
+ And Frederick
+ And Jim.
+
+ Days and weeks and months they sped,
+ Painting that foreign clime
+ A beautiful, bright vermillion red--
+ And having a -- of a time!
+ 'Twas all so gaudy a lark, it seemed,
+ As if it could not be,
+ And some folks thought it a dream they dreamed
+ Of sailing that foreign sea,
+ But I'll identify you these three--
+ Lyman
+ And Frederick
+ And Jim.
+
+ Lyman and Frederick are bankers and sich
+ And Jim is an editor kind;
+ The first two named are awfully rich
+ And Jim ain't far behind!
+ So keep your eyes open and mind your tricks,
+ Or you are like to be
+ In quite as much of a Tartar fix
+ As the pirates that sailed the sea
+ And monkeyed with the pardners three,
+ Lyman
+ And Frederick
+ And Jim.
+
+
+
+
+A WAIL.
+
+
+ My name is Col. Johncey New,
+ And by a hoosier's grace
+ I have congenial work to do
+ At 12 St. Helen's place.
+ I was as happy as a clam
+ A-floating with the tide,
+ Till one day came a cablegram
+ To me from t'other side.
+
+ It was a Macedonian cry
+ From Benjy o'er the sea;
+ "Come hither, Johncey, instantly,
+ And whoop things up for me!"
+ I could not turn a callous ear
+ Unto that piteous cry;
+ I packed my grip, and for the pier
+ Directly started I.
+
+ Alas! things are not half so fair
+ As four short years ago--
+ The clouds are gathering everywhere
+ And boisterous breezes blow;
+ My wilted whiskers indicate
+ The depth of my disgrace--
+ Would I were back, enthroned in state,
+ At 12 St. Helen's place!
+
+ The saddest words, as I'll allow,
+ That drop from tongue or pen,
+ Are these sad words I utter now:
+ "They can't, shan't, won't have Ben!"
+ So, with my whiskers in my hands,
+ My journey I'll retrace,
+ To wreak revenge on foreign lands
+ At 12 St. Helen's place.
+
+
+
+
+CLENDENIN'S LAMENT.
+
+
+ While bridal knots are being tied
+ And bridal meats are being basted,
+ I shiver in the cold outside
+ And pine for joys I've never tasted.
+
+ Oh, what's a nomination worth,
+ When you have labored months to get it
+ If, all at once, with heartless mirth,
+ The cruel senator's upset it?
+
+ Fate weaves me such a toilsome way,
+ My modest wisdom may not ken it--
+ But, all the same, a plague I say
+ Upon that stingy, hostile senate!
+
+
+
+
+ON THE WEDDING OF G. C.
+
+(June 2, 1886.)
+
+
+ Oh, hand me down my spike tail coat
+ And reef my waistband in,
+ And tie this necktie round my throat
+ And fix my bosom pin;
+ I feel so weak and flustered like,
+ I don't know what I say--
+ For I am to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,
+ I'm to be wedded to-day!
+
+ Put double sentries at the doors
+ And pull the curtains down,
+ And tell the democratic bores
+ That I am out of town;
+ It's funny folks haint decency
+ Enough to stay away,
+ When I'm to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,
+ I'm to be wedded to-day!
+
+ The bride, you say, is calm and cool
+ In satin robes of white--
+ Well, _I_ am stolid, as a rule,
+ But now I'm flustered quite;
+ Upon a surging sea of bliss
+ My soul is borne away,
+ For I'm to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,
+ I'm to be wedded to-day!
+
+
+
+
+TO G. C.
+
+(July 12, 1886.)
+
+
+ They say our president has stuck
+ Above his good wife's door
+ The sign provocative of luck--
+ A horseshoe--nothing more.
+
+ Be hushed, O party hates, the while
+ That emblem lingers there,
+ And thou, dear fates, propitious smile
+ Upon the wedded pair.
+
+ I've tried the horseshoe's weird intent
+ And felt its potent joy--
+ God bless you, Mr. President,
+ And may it be a boy.
+
+
+
+
+TO DR. F. W. R.
+
+
+ If I were rich enough to buy
+ A case of wine (though I abhor it),
+ I'd send a quart of extra dry
+ And willingly get trusted for it.
+ But, lackaday! _You_ know that I'm
+ As poor as Job's historic turkey--
+ In lieu of Mumm, accept this rhyme,
+ An honest gift though somewhat jerky.
+
+ This is your silver wedding day--
+ You didn't mean to let me know it!
+ And yet your smiles and raiments gay
+ Beyond all peradventure show it!
+ By all you say and do it's clear
+ A birdling in your heart is singing,
+ And everywhere you go you hear
+ The old-time bridal bells a-ringing.
+
+ Ah, well, God grant that these dear chimes
+ May mind you of the sweetness only
+ Of those far distant, callow times
+ When you were Benedick and lonely--
+ And when an angel blessed your lot--
+ For angel is your helpmeet, truly--
+ And when, to share the joy she brought,
+ Came other little angels, duly.
+
+ So here's a health to you and wife--
+ Long may you mock the Reaper's warning,
+ And may the evening of your life
+ In rising sons renew the morning;
+ May happiness and peace and love
+ Come with each morrow to caress ye,
+ And when you're done with earth, above--
+ God bless ye, dear old friend--God bless ye!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE'S ODE TO "LYDIA" ROCHE.
+
+
+ No longer the boys,
+ With their music and noise,
+ Demand your election as mayor;
+ Such a milk-wagon hack
+ Has no place on the track
+ When his rival's a thoroughbred stayer.
+
+ With your coarse, shallow wit
+ Every rational cit
+ At last is completely disgusted;
+ The tool of the rings,
+ Trusts, barons, and things,
+ What wonder, I wonder, you're busted!
+
+ As soon as that Yerkes
+ Finds out you can't work his
+ Intrigues for the popular nickel,
+ With a tear to deceive you
+ He'll drop you and leave you
+ In your normal condition--a pickle.
+
+ Go, dodderer, go
+ Where the whisker winds blow
+ And spasms of penitence trouble;
+ Or flounder and whoop
+ In an ocean of soup
+ Where the pills of adversity bubble.
+
+
+
+
+A PARAPHRASE, CIRCA 1715.
+
+
+ Since Chloe is so monstrous fair,
+ With such an eye and such an air,
+ What wonder that the world complains
+ When she each am'rous suit disdains?
+
+ Close to her mother's side she clings
+ And mocks the death her folly brings
+ To gentle swains that feel the smarts
+ Her eyes inflict upon their hearts.
+
+ Whilst thus the years of youth go by,
+ Shall Colin languish, Strephon die?
+ Nay, cruel nymph! come, choose a mate,
+ And choose him ere it be too late!
+
+
+
+
+A PARAPHRASE, OSTENSIBLY BY DR. I. W.
+
+
+ Why, Mistress Chloe, do you bother
+ With prattlings and with vain ado
+ Your worthy and industrious mother,
+ Eschewing them that come to woo?
+
+ Oh, that the awful truth might quicken
+ This stern conviction to your breast:
+ You are no longer now a chicken
+ Too young to quit the parent nest.
+
+ So put aside your froward carriage
+ And fix your thoughts, whilst yet there's time,
+ Upon the righteousness of marriage
+ With some such godly man as I'm.
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 27.
+
+
+ In maudlin spite let Thracians fight
+ Above their bowls of liquor,
+ But such as we, when on a spree,
+ Should never bawl and bicker!
+
+ These angry words and clashing swords
+ Are quite de trop, I'm thinking;
+ Brace up, my boys, and hush your noise,
+ And drown your wrath in drinking.
+
+ Aha, 'tis fine--this mellow wine
+ With which our host would dope us!
+ Now let us hear what pretty dear
+ Entangles him of Opus.
+
+ I see you blush--nay, comrades, hush!
+ Come, friend, though they despise you,
+ Tell me the name of that fair dame--
+ Perchance I may advise you.
+
+ O wretched youth! and is it truth
+ You love that fickle lady?
+ I, doting dunce, courted her once,
+ And she is reckoned shady!
+
+
+
+
+HEINE'S "WIDOW OR DAUGHTER."
+
+
+ Shall I woo the one or the other?
+ Both attract me--more's the pity!
+ Pretty is the widowed mother,
+ And the daughter, too, is pretty.
+
+ When I see that maiden shrinking,
+ By the gods, I swear I'll get 'er!
+ But, anon, I fall to thinking
+ That the mother'll suit me better!
+
+ So, like any idiot ass--
+ Hungry for the fragrant fodder,
+ Placed between two bales of grass,
+ Lo, I doubt, delay, and dodder!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE II, 20.
+
+
+ Maecenas, I propose to fly
+ To realms beyond these human portals;
+ No common things shall be my wings,
+ But such as sprout upon immortals.
+
+ Of lowly birth, once shed of earth,
+ Your Horace, precious (so you've told him),
+ Shall soar away--no tomb of clay
+ Nor Stygian prison house shall hold him.
+
+ Upon my skin feathers begin
+ To warn the songster of his fleeting;
+ But never mind--I leave behind
+ Songs all the world shall keep repeating.
+
+ Lo, Boston girls with corkscrew curls,
+ And husky westerns, wild and woolly,
+ And southern climes shall vaunt my rhymes--
+ And all profess to know me fully.
+
+ Methinks the west shall know me best
+ And therefore hold my memory dearer,
+ For by that lake a bard shall make
+ My subtle, hidden meanings clearer.
+
+ So cherished, I shall never die--
+ Pray, therefore, spare your dolesome praises,
+ Your elegies and plaintive cries,
+ For I shall fertilize no daisies!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE'S SPRING POEM.
+
+(Odes I, 4.)
+
+
+ The western breeze is springing up, the ships are in the bay,
+ And Spring has brought a happy change as Winter melts away;
+ No more in stall or fire the herd or plowman finds delight,
+ No longer with the biting frosts the open fields are white.
+
+ Our Lady of Lythera now prepares to lead the dance,
+ While from above the ruddy moon bestows a friendly glance;
+ The nymphs and comely Graces join with Venus and the choir,
+ And Vulcan's glowing fancy lightly turns to thoughts of fire.
+
+ Now is the time with myrtle green to crown the shining pate,
+ And with the early blossoms of the spring to decorate;
+ To sacrifice to Faunus--on whose favor we rely--
+ A sprightly lamb, mayhap a kid, as he may specify.
+
+ Impartially the feet of Death at huts and castles strike--
+ The influenza carries off the rich and poor alike;
+ O Sestius! though blest you are beyond the common run,
+ Life is too short to cherish e'en a distant hope begun.
+
+ The Shades and Pluto's mansion follow hard upon la grippe--
+ Once there you cannot throw at dice or taste the wine you sip,
+ Nor look on Lycidas, whose beauty you commend,
+ To whom the girls will presently their courtesies extend.
+
+
+
+
+HORACE TO LIGURINE.
+
+(Odes IV, 10.)
+
+
+ O cruel fair,
+ Whose flowing hair
+ The envy and the pride of all is,
+ As onward roll
+ The years, that poll
+ Will get as bald as a billiard ball is;
+ Then shall your skin, now pink and dimply,
+ Be tanned to parchment, sear and pimply!
+
+ When you behold
+ Yourself grown old
+ These words shall speak your spirits moody:
+ "Unhappy one!
+ What heaps of fun
+ I've missed by being goody-goody!
+ Oh! that I might have felt the hunger
+ Of loveless age when I was younger!"
+
+
+
+
+HORACE ON HIS MUSCLE.
+
+(Epode VI.)
+
+
+ You (blatant coward that you are!)
+ Upon the helpless vent your spite;
+ Suppose you ply your trade on me--
+ Come, monkey with this bard and see
+ How I'll repay your bark with bite!
+
+ Ay, snarl just once at me, you brute!
+ And I shall hound you far and wide,
+ As fiercely as through drifted snow
+ The shepherd dog pursues what foe
+ Skulks on the Spartan mountain side!
+
+ The chip is on my shoulder, see?
+ But touch it and I'll raise your fur;
+ I'm full of business; so beware,
+ For, though I'm loaded up for bear,
+ I'm quite as likely to kill a cur!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE TO MAECENAS.
+
+(Odes III, 29.)
+
+
+ Dear noble friend! a virgin cask
+ Of wine solicits attention--
+ And roses fair, to deck your hair,
+ And things too numerous to mention,
+ So tear yourself awhile away
+ From urban turmoil, pride and splendor
+ And deign to share what humble fare
+ And sumptuous fellowship I tender;
+ The sweet content retirement brings
+ Smoothes out the ruffled front of kings.
+
+ The evil planets have combined
+ To make the weather hot and hotter--
+ By parboiled streams the shepherd dreams
+ Vainly of ice-cream soda-water;
+ And meanwhile you, defying heat,
+ With patriotic ardor ponder
+ On what old Rome essays at home
+ And what her heathen do out yonder.
+ Maecenas, no such vain alarm
+ Disturbs the quiet of this farm!
+
+ God in his providence observes
+ The goal beyond this vale of sorrow,
+ And smiles at men in pity when
+ They seek to penetrate the morrow.
+ With faith that all is for the best,
+ Let's bear what burdens are presented,
+ That we shall say, let come what may,
+ "We die, as we have lived, contented!
+ Ours is to-day; God's is the rest--
+ He doth ordain who knoweth best!"
+
+ Dame Fortune plays me many a prank--
+ When she is kind, oh! how I go it!
+ But if, again, she's harsh, why, then
+ I am a very proper poet!
+ When favoring gales bring in my ships,
+ I hie to Rome and live in clover--
+ Elsewise, I steer my skiff out here,
+ And anchor till the storm blows over.
+ Compulsory virtue is the charm
+ Of life upon the Sabine farm!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE IN LOVE AGAIN.
+
+(Epode XI.)
+
+
+ Dear Pettius, once I reeled off rhyme
+ Satiric, sad and tender,
+ But now my quill
+ Has lost its skill
+ And I am dying in my prime
+ Through love of female gender!
+ Nay, do not laugh
+ Nor deign to chaff
+ Your friend with taunts of Lyde
+ And other dames
+ Who've been my flames--
+ _This_ time it's bona-fide!
+
+ I maunder sadly to and fro--
+ I who was once so jolly!
+ My old time chums
+ Gyrate their thumbs
+ And taunt me, as I sighing go,
+ With what they term my folly.
+ I told you once,
+ Lake a garrulous dunce,
+ Of my all consuming passion,
+ And I rolled my eyes
+ In tragedy wise
+ And raved in lovesick fashion.
+
+ And when I'd aired my woes profound
+ You volunteered this warning:
+ "Horace, go light
+ On the bowl to-night--
+ Ten hours of sleep will bring you round
+ All right to-morrow morning!"
+ Now ten hours sleep
+ May do a heap
+ For callow hearts a-patter,
+ But I tell you, sir,
+ This affair du coeur
+ Of _mine_ is a serious matter!
+
+
+
+
+"GOOD-BY--GOD BLESS YOU!"
+
+
+ I like the Anglo-Saxon speech
+ With its direct revealings--
+ It takes a hold and seems to reach
+ Way down into your feelings;
+ That some folk deem it rude, I know,
+ And therefore they abuse it;
+ But I have never found it so--
+ Before all else I choose it.
+ I don't object that men should air
+ The Gallic they have paid for--
+ With "au revoir," "adieu, ma chere"--
+ For that's what French was made for--
+ But when a crony takes your hand
+ At parting to address you,
+ He drops all foreign lingo and
+ He says: "Good-by--God bless you!"
+
+ This seems to me a sacred phrase
+ With reverence impassioned--
+ A thing come down from righteous days,
+ Quaintly but nobly fashioned;
+ It well becomes an honest face--
+ A voice that's round and cheerful;
+ It stays the sturdy in his place
+ And soothes the weak and fearful.
+ Into the porches of the ears
+ It steals with subtle unction
+ And in your heart of hearts appears
+ To work its gracious function;
+ And all day long with pleasing song
+ It lingers to caress you--
+ I'm sure no human heart goes wrong
+ That's told "Good-by--God bless you!"
+
+ I love the words--perhaps because,
+ When I was leaving mother,
+ Standing at last in solemn pause
+ We looked at one another,
+ And--I saw in mother's eyes
+ The love she could not tell me--
+ A love eternal as the skies,
+ Whatever fate befell me;
+ She put her arms about my neck
+ And soothed the pain of leaving,
+ And, though her heart was like to break,
+ She spoke no word of grieving;
+ She let no tear bedim her eye,
+ For fear _that_ might distress me,
+ But, kissing me, she said good-by
+ And asked her God to bless me.
+
+
+
+
+HORACE.
+
+(Epode XIV.)
+
+
+ You ask me, friend,
+ Why I don't send
+ The long since due-and-paid-for numbers--
+ Why, songless, I
+ As drunken lie
+ Abandoned to Lethæan slumbers.
+
+ Long time ago
+ (As well you know)
+ I started in upon that carmen;
+ My work was vain--
+ But why complain?
+ When gods forbid, how helpless are men!
+
+ Some ages back,
+ The sage Anack
+ Courted a frisky Samian body,
+ Singing her praise
+ In metered phrase
+ As flowing as his bowls of toddy.
+
+ 'Till I was hoarse
+ Might I discourse
+ Upon the cruelties of Venus--
+ 'Twere waste of time
+ As well of rhyme,
+ For you've been there yourself, Maecenas!
+
+ Perfect your bliss,
+ If some fair miss
+ Love you yourself and _not_ your minæ;
+ I, fortune's sport,
+ All vainly court
+ The beauteous, polyandrous Phryne!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 23.
+
+
+ Chloe, you shun me like a hind
+ That, seeking vainly for her mother,
+ Hears danger in each breath of wind
+ And wildly darts this way and t'other.
+
+ Whether the breezes sway the wood
+ Or lizards scuttle through the brambles,
+ She starts, and off, as though pursued,
+ The foolish, frightened creature scrambles.
+
+ But, Chloe, you're no infant thing
+ That should esteem a man an ogre--
+ Let go your mother's apron-string
+ And pin your faith upon a toga!
+
+
+
+
+A PARAPHRASE.
+
+
+ How happens it, my cruel miss,
+ You're always giving me the mitten?
+ You seem to have forgotten this:
+ That you no longer are a kitten!
+
+ A woman that has reached the years
+ Of that which people call discretion
+ Should put aside all childish fears
+ And see in courtship no transgression.
+
+ A mother's solace may be sweet,
+ But Hymen's tenderness is sweeter,
+ And though all virile love be meet,
+ You'll find the poet's love is metre.
+
+
+
+
+A PARAPHRASE BY CHAUCER.
+
+
+ Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken,
+ Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken;
+ Like as a lyttel deere you been y-hiding
+ Whenas come lovers with theyre pityse chiding,
+ Sothly it ben faire to give up your moder
+ For to beare swete company with some oder;
+ Your moder ben well enow so farre shee goeth,
+ But that ben not farre enow, God knoweth;
+ Wherefore it ben sayed that foolysh ladyes
+ That marrye not shall leade an aype in Hayde;
+ But all that do with gode men wed full quicklye
+ When that they be on dead go to ye seints full sickerly.
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 5.
+
+
+ What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah,
+ With smiles for diet,
+ Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha,
+ On the quiet?
+ For whom do you bind up your tresses,
+ As spun-gold yellow--
+ Meshes that go with your caresses,
+ To snare a fellow?
+
+ How will he rail at fate capricious,
+ And curse you duly;
+ Yet now he deems your wiles delicious--
+ _You_ perfect truly!
+ Pyrrha, your love's a treacherous ocean--
+ He'll soon fall in there!
+ Then shall I gloat on his commotion,
+ For _I_ have been there!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 20.
+
+
+ Than you, O valued friend of mine!
+ A better patron non est--
+ Come, quaff my home-made Sabine wine--
+ You'll find it poor but honest.
+
+ I put it up that famous day
+ You patronized the ballet
+ And the public cheered you such a way
+ As shook your native valley.
+
+ Cæcuban and the Calean brand
+ May elsewhere claim attention,
+ But I have none of these on hand--
+ For reasons I'll not mention.
+
+
+
+
+_ENVOY._
+
+
+ So come! though favors I bestow
+ Can not be called extensive,
+ Who better than my friend should know
+ That they're, at least, expensive!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE II, 7.
+
+
+ Pompey, what fortune gives you back
+ To the friends and the gods who love you--
+ Once more you stand in your native land,
+ With your native sky above you!
+ Ah, side by side, in years agone,
+ We've faced tempestuous weather,
+ And often quaffed
+ The genial draft
+ From an amphora together!
+
+ When honor at Phillippi fell
+ A pray to brutal passion,
+ I regret to say that my feet ran away
+ In swift Iambic fashion;
+ You were no poet-soldier born,
+ You staid, nor did you wince then--
+ Mercury came
+ To my help, which same
+ Has frequently saved me since then.
+
+ But now you're back, let's celebrate
+ In the good old way and classic--
+ Come, let us lard our skins with nard
+ And bedew our souls with Massic!
+ With fillets of green parsley leaves
+ Our foreheads shall be done up,
+ And with song shall we
+ Protract our spree
+ Until the morrow's sun-up.
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 11.
+
+
+ Seek not, Lucome, to know how long you're going to live yet--
+ What boons the gods will yet withhold, or what they're going to give
+ yet;
+ For Jupiter will have his way, despite how much we worry--
+ Some will hang on for many a day and some die in a hurry,
+ The wisest thing for you to do is to embark this diem
+ Upon a merry escapade with some such bard as I am;
+ And while we sport, I'll reel you off such odes as shall surprise ye--
+ To-morrow, when the headache comes--well, then I'll satirize ye!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 13.
+
+
+ When, Lydia, you (once fond and true,
+ But now grown cold and supercilious)
+ Praise Telly's charms of neck and arms--
+ Well, by the dog! it makes me bilious!
+
+ Then, with despite, my cheeks wax white,
+ My doddering brain gets weak and giddy,
+ My eyes o'erflow with tears which show
+ That passion melts my vitals, Liddy!
+
+ Deny, false jade, your escapade,
+ And, lo! your wounded shoulders show it!
+ No manly spark left such a mark--
+ (Leastwise he surely was no poet!)
+
+ With savage buss did Telephus
+ Abraid your lips, so plump and mellow--
+ As you would save what Venus gave,
+ I charge you shun that awkward fellow!
+
+ And now I say thrice happy they
+ That call on Hymen to requite 'em;
+ For, though love cools, the wedded fools
+ Must cleave 'till death doth disunite 'em!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE IV, 1.
+
+
+ O Mother Venus, quit, I pray,
+ Your violent assailing;
+ The arts, forsooth, that fired my youth
+ At last are unavailing--
+ My blood runs cold--I'm getting old
+ And all my powers are failing!
+
+ Speed thou upon thy white swan's wings
+ And elsewhere deign to mellow
+ With my soft arts the anguished hearts
+ Of swain that writhe and bellow;
+ And right away, seek out, I pray,
+ Young Paullus--he's your fellow.
+
+ You'll find young Paullus passing fate,
+ Modest, refined, and toney--
+ Go, now, incite the favored wight!
+ With Venus for a crony.
+ He'll outshine all at feast and ball
+ And conversazione!
+
+ Then shall that godlike nose of thine
+ With perfumes be requited,
+ And then shall prance in Salian dance
+ The girls and boys delighted,
+ And, while the lute blends with the flute,
+ Shall tender loves be blighted.
+
+ But as for me--as you can see--
+ I'm getting old and spiteful;
+ I have no mind to female kind
+ That once I deemed delightful--
+ No more brim up the festive cup
+ That sent me home at night full.
+
+ Why do I falter in my speech,
+ O cruel Ligurine?
+ Why do I chase from place to place
+ In weather wet and shiny?
+ Why down my nose forever flows
+ The tear that's cold and briny?
+
+
+
+
+HORACE TO HIS PATRON.
+
+
+ Mæcenas, you're of noble line--
+ (Of which the proof convincing
+ Is that you buy me all my wine
+ Without so much as wincing.)
+
+ To different men of different minds
+ Come different kinds of pleasure;
+ There's Marshall Field--what joy he finds
+ In shears and cloth-yard measure!
+
+ With joy Prof. Swing is filled
+ While preaching godly sermons;
+ With bliss is Hobart Taylor thrilled
+ When he is leading germans.
+
+ While Uncle Joe Medill prefers
+ To run a daily paper,
+ To Walter Gresham it occurs
+ That law's the proper caper.
+
+ With comedy a winning card,
+ How blithe is Richard Hooley;
+ Per contra, making soap and lard,
+ Rejoices Fairbank duly.
+
+ While Armour in the sugar ham
+ His summum bonum reaches,
+ MacVeagh's as happy as a clam
+ In canning pears and peaches.
+
+ Let Farwell glory in the fray
+ Which party hate increases--
+ His son-in-law delights to play
+ Gavottes and such like pieces.
+
+ So each betakes him to his task--
+ So each his hobby nurses--
+ While I--well, all the boon I ask
+ Is leave to write my verses.
+
+ Give, give that precious boon to me
+ And I shall envy no man;
+ If not the noblest I shall be
+ At least the happiest Roman!
+
+
+
+
+THE "ARS POETICA" OF HORACE--XVIII.
+
+(Lines 323-333.)
+
+
+ The Greeks had genius--'twas a gift
+ The Muse vouchsafed in glorious measure;
+ The boon of Fame they made their aim
+ And prized above all worldly treasure.
+
+ But _we_--how do we train _our_ youth?
+ _Not_ in the arts that are immortal,
+ But in the greed for gains that speed
+ From him who stands at Death's dark portal.
+
+ Ah, when this slavish love of gold
+ Once binds the soul in greasy fetters,
+ How prostrate lies--how droops and dies
+ The great, the noble cause of letters!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 34.
+
+
+ I have not worshiped God, my King--
+ Folly has led my heart astray;
+ Backward I turn my course to learn
+ The wisdom of a wiser way.
+
+ How marvelous is God, the King!
+ How do His lightnings cleave the sky--
+ His thundering car spreads fear afar,
+ And even hell is quaked thereby!
+
+ Omnipotent is God, our King!
+ There is no thought He hath not read,
+ And many a crown His hand plucks down
+ To place it on a worthier head!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 33.
+
+
+ Not to lament that rival flame
+ Wherewith the heartless Glycera scorns you,
+ Nor waste your time in maudlin rhyme,
+ How many a modern instance warns you.
+
+ Fair-browed Lycoris pines away
+ Because her Cyrus loves another;
+ The ruthless churl informs the girl
+ He loves her only as a brother.
+
+ For he, in turn, courts Pholoe--
+ A maid unscotched of love's fierce virus--
+ Why, goats will mate with wolves they hate
+ Ere Pholoe will mate with Cyrus!
+
+ Ah, weak and hapless human hearts--
+ By cruel Mother Venus fated
+ To spend this life in hopeless strife,
+ Because incongruously mated!
+
+ Such torture, Albius, is my lot;
+ For, though a better mistress wooed me,
+ My Myrtale has captured me
+ And with her cruelties subdued me!
+
+
+
+
+THE "ARS POETICA" OF HORACE--I.
+
+(Lines 1-23.)
+
+
+ Should painters attach to a fair human head
+ The thick, turgid neck of a stallion,
+ Or depict a spruce lass with the tail of a bass--
+ I am sure you would guy the rapscallion!
+
+ Believe me, dear Pisos, that such a freak
+ Is the crude and preposterous poem
+ Which merely abounds in a torrent of sounds
+ With no depth of reason below 'em.
+
+ 'Tis all very well to give license to art--
+ The wisdom of license defend I;
+ But the line should be drawn at the fripperish sprawn
+ Of a mere cacoethes scribendi.
+
+ It is too much the fashion to strain at effects--
+ Yes, that's what's the matter with Hannah!
+ Our popular taste by the tyros debased
+ Paints each barnyard a grove of Diana!
+
+ Should a patron require you to paint a marine,
+ Would you work in some trees with their barks on?
+ When his strict orders are for a Japanese jar,
+ Would you give him a pitcher like Clarkson?
+
+ Now this is my moral: Compose what you may,
+ And fame will be ever far distant,
+ Unless you combine with a simple design
+ A treatment in toto consistent.
+
+
+
+
+THE GREAT JOURNALIST IN SPAIN.
+
+
+ Good Editor Dana--God bless him, we say!
+ Will soon be afloat on the main,
+ Will be steaming away
+ Through the mist and the spray
+ To the sensuous climate of Spain.
+
+ Strange sights shall he see in that beautiful land
+ Which is famed for its soap and Moor,
+ For, as we understand,
+ The scenery is grand,
+ Though the system of railway is poor.
+
+ For moonlight of silver and sunlight of gold
+ Glint the orchards of lemons and mangoes,
+ And the ladies, we're told,
+ Are a joy to behold
+ As they twine in their lissome fandangoes.
+
+ What though our friend Dana shall twang a guitar
+ And murmur a passionate strain--
+ Oh, fairer by far
+ Than these ravishments are
+ The castles abounding in Spain!
+
+ These castles are built as the builder may list--
+ They are sometimes of marble or stone,
+ But they mostly consist
+ Of east wind and mist
+ With an ivy of froth overgrown.
+
+ A beautiful castle our Dana shall raise
+ On a futile foundation of hope,
+ And its glories shall blaze
+ In the somnolent haze
+ Of the mythical lake del y Soap.
+
+ The fragrance of sunflowers shall swoon on the air,
+ And the visions of dreamland obtain,
+ And the song of "World's Fair"
+ Shall be heard everywhere
+ Through that beautiful castle in Spain.
+
+
+
+
+REID, THE CANDIDATE.
+
+
+ I saw a brave compositor
+ Go hustling o'er the mead,
+ Who bore a banner with these words:
+ "Hurrah for Whitelaw Reid!"
+
+ "Where go you, brother slug," I asked,
+ "With such unusual speed?"
+ He quoth: "I go to dump my vote
+ For gallant Whitelaw Reid!"
+
+ "But what has Whitelaw done," I asked,
+ "That now he should succeed?"
+ Said he: "The stanchest, truest friend
+ We have is Whitelaw Reid!
+
+ "There are no terms we can suggest
+ That he will not concede;
+ He is converted to our faith,
+ Is gallant Whitelaw Reid!
+
+ "The union it must be preserved--
+ That is this convert's creed,
+ And that is why we're whooping up
+ The cause of Whitelaw Reid!"
+
+ "If what you say of him be sooth,
+ You have a friend indeed,
+ So go on your winding way," quoth I,
+ "And whoop for Whitelaw Reid!"
+
+ So on unto the polls I saw
+ That printer straight proceed
+ While other printers swarmed in swarms
+ To vote for Whitelaw Reid.
+
+
+
+
+A VALENTINE.
+
+
+ Four little sisters standing in a row--
+ Which of them I love best I really do not know.
+ Sometimes it is the sister dressed out so fine in blue,
+ And sometimes she who flaunts the beauteous robe of emerald hue;
+ Sometimes for her who wears the brown my tender heart has bled,
+ And then again I am consumed of love for her in red.
+ So now I think I'll send this valentine unto the four--
+ I love them all so very much--how could a man do more?
+
+
+
+
+KISSING-TIME.
+
+
+ 'Tis when the lark goes soaring,
+ And the bee is at the bud,
+ When lightly dancing zephyrs
+ Sing over field and flood;
+ When all sweet things in Nature
+ Seem joyfully a-chime--
+ 'Tis then I wake my darling,
+ For it is kissing-time!
+
+ Go, pretty lark, a-soaring,
+ And suck your sweets, O bee;
+ Sing, O ye winds of summer,
+ Your songs to mine and me.
+ For with your song and rapture
+ Cometh the moment when
+ It is half-past kissing-time
+ And time to kiss again!
+
+ So--so the days go fleeting
+ Like golden fancies free,
+ And every day that cometh
+ Is full of sweets for me;
+ And sweetest are those moments
+ My darling comes to climb
+ Into my lap to mind me
+ That it is kissing-time.
+
+ Sometimes, may be, he wanders
+ A heedless, aimless way--
+ Sometimes, may be, he loiters
+ In pretty, prattling play;
+ But presently bethinks him
+ And hastens to me then,
+ For it's half-past kissing time
+ And time to kiss again!
+
+
+
+
+THE FIFTH OF JULY.
+
+
+ The sun climbs up, but still the tyrant Sleep
+ Holds fast our baby boy in his embrace;
+ The slumb'rer sighs, anon athwart his face
+ Faint, half-suggested frowns like shadows creep,
+ One little hand lies listless on his breast,
+ One little thumb sticks up with mute appeal,
+ While motley burns and powder marks reveal
+ The fruits of boyhood's patriotic zest.
+
+ Our baby's faithful poodle crouches near--
+ He, too, is weary of the din and play
+ That come with glorious Independence Day,
+ But which, thank God! come only once a year!
+ And Fido, too, has suffered in this cause,
+ Which once a year right noisily obtains,
+ For Fido's tail--or what thereof remains--
+ Is not so fair a sight as once it was.
+
+
+
+
+PICNIC-TIME.
+
+
+ It's June agin, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
+ That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;
+ For, every June, the Sunday schools at picnics may be seen,
+ Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin'
+ green."
+ Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs an' ants,
+ An' little boys get grass-stains on their go-to-meetin' pants.
+ It's June agin, an' with it all what happiness is mine--
+ There's goin' to be a picnic an' I'm goin' to jine!
+
+ One year I jined the Baptists, an' goodness! how it rained!
+ (But grampa says that that's the way "Baptizo" is explained.)
+ And once I jined the 'piscopils an' had a heap o' fun--
+ But the boss of all the picnics was the Presbyterium!
+ They had so many puddin's, sallids, sandwidges an' pies,
+ That a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyes!
+ Oh, yes, the eatin' Presbyteriums give yer is so fine
+ That when _they_ have a picnic, you bet _I'm_ goin' to jine!
+
+ But at this time the Methodists have special claims on me,
+ For they're goin' to give a picnic on the 21st, D. V.;
+ Why should a liberal Universalist like me object
+ To share the joys of fellowship with every friendly sect?
+ However het'rodox their articles of faith elsewise may be,
+ Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin' grace to me!
+ So on the 21st of June, the weather bein' fine,
+ They're goin' to give a picnic, and I'm goin' to jine!
+
+
+
+
+THE ROMANCE OF A WATCH.
+
+
+ One day his father said to John:
+ "Come here and see what I hev bought---
+ A Waterbury watch, my son--
+ It is the boon you long hev sought!"
+
+ The boy could scarcely believe his eyes--
+ The watch was shiny, smooth an' slick--
+ He snatched the nickel-plated prize
+ An' wound away to hear it tick.
+
+ He wound an' wound, an' wound an' wound,
+ An' kept a windin' fit to kill--
+ The weeks an' months an' years rolled round,
+ But John he kep' a windin', still!
+
+ As autumns came an' winters went
+ An' summers follered arter spring,
+ John didn't mind--he was intent
+ On windin' up that darned ol' thing.
+
+ He got to be a poor ol' man--
+ He's bald an' deaf an' blind an' lame,
+ But, like he did when he began,
+ He keeps on windin', jest the same!
+
+
+
+
+OUR BABY.
+
+
+ 'Tis very strange, but quite as true,
+ That when our Baby smiles
+ Our club gets walloped black and blue
+ In all the latest styles;
+ But when our Baby's hopping mad
+ It's quite the other way--
+ Chicago beats the Yankees bad
+ When Baby doesn't play.
+
+ When baby stands upon his base,
+ Just after having kicked,
+ Upon his Scandinavian face
+ Appears the legend, "Licked";
+ But when he orders out a sub,
+ We well may hip-hooray--
+ Chicago has the winning club
+ When Baby doesn't play.
+
+ But, if our Baby's getting old,
+ And stiff, and cross, and vain,
+ And if his days are nearly told,
+ Oh, let us not complain.
+ Let's rather think of what he was
+ And how he's made it pay
+ To hire the kids that win because
+ Our Baby doesn't play.
+
+
+
+
+THE COLOR THAT SUITS ME BEST.
+
+
+ Any color--so long as it's red--
+ Is the color that suits me best,
+ Though I will allow there is much to be said
+ For yellow and green and the rest;
+ But the feeble tints, which some affect
+ In the things they make or buy,
+ Have never (I say it with all respect)
+ Appealed to my critical eye.
+
+ There's that in red that warmeth the blood
+ And quickeneth a man within,
+ And bringeth to speedy and perfect bud
+ The germs of original sin;
+ So, though I am properly born and bred,
+ I'll own, with a certain zest,
+ That any color--so long as it's red--
+ Is the color that suits me best!
+
+ For where is a color that can be compared
+ With the blush of a buxom lass--
+ Or where such warmth as of the hair
+ Of the genuine white horse class?
+ And, lo, reflected in this cup
+ Of cherry Bordeaux I see
+ What inspiration girdeth me up--
+ Yes, red is the color for me!
+
+ Through acres and acres of art I've strayed
+ In Italy, Germany, France;
+ On many a picture a master has made
+ I've squandered a passing glance;
+ Marines I hate, madonnas and
+ Those Dutch freaks I detest!
+ But the peerless daubs of my native land--
+ They're red, and I like them best!
+
+ 'Tis little I care how folks deride--
+ I'm backed by the west, at least,
+ And we are free to say that we can't abide
+ The tastes that obtain down east;
+ And we are mighty proud to have it said
+ That here in the critical west,
+ Most any color--so long as it's red--
+ Is the color that suits us best!
+
+
+
+
+HOW TO "FILL."
+
+
+It is understood that our esteemed Col. Franc B. Wilkie is going to
+formulate a reply to Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox's latest poem, which
+begins as follows:
+
+ "I hold it as a changeless law
+ From which no soul can sway or swerve,
+ We have that in us which will draw
+ Whate'er we need or most deserve."
+
+We fancy the genial colonel will start off with some such quatrain as
+this:
+
+ "I fain would have your recipe,
+ If you'll but give the snap away;
+ Now when four clubs are dealt to me,
+ How may I draw another, pray?"
+
+
+
+
+POLITICS IN 1888.
+
+
+The Cleveland Leader must be getting ready for the campaign of 1888. We
+find upon its editorial page quite a pretentious poem, entitled "Alpha
+and Omega," and here is a sample stanza:
+
+ "Whose name will stand for coming time
+ As hypocrites in prose and rhyme,
+ And be despised in every clime?
+ The Mugwumps."
+
+Well, may be so, but may we be permitted to add a stanza which seems to
+us to be very pertinent just now?
+
+ And who next year, we'd like to know,
+ Will feed the Cleveland Leader crow,
+ Just as they did three years ago?
+ The Mugwumps.
+
+
+
+
+THE BASEBALL SCORE.
+
+
+ A boy came racing down the street
+ In a most tumultuous way,
+ And he hollered at all he chanced to meet:
+ "Hooray, hooray, hooray!"
+ His eyes and his breath were hot with joy
+ And his cheeks were all aflame--
+ 'Twas a rare event with the little boy
+ When the champions won a game!
+
+ "Twenty to 6" and "10 to 2"
+ Were rather dismal scores,
+ And they wreathed in a somewhat somber hue
+ These classic western shores;
+ We shuddered and winced at the cruel sport
+ And our heads were bowed in shame
+ 'Till Somewhere sent us the glad report
+ That the champions won the game!
+
+ Our Baby says it'll be all right
+ For the champions by and by,
+ And the twin emotions of Hope and Fright
+ Gleam in his cod fish eye;
+ And Spalding says (in his modest way)
+ That we'll get there all the same;
+ So let us holler, "Hooray, hooray,"
+ When the champions win the game.
+
+
+
+
+CHICAGO NEWSPAPER LIFE.
+
+
+It pleases us to observe that the shocking habit of hurling opprobrious
+epithets at each other has been abandoned by the venerable editor of the
+Journal and the venerable editor of the Tribune. At this moment we are
+reminded of the inspired lines of the eminent but now, alas! neglected
+Watts:
+
+ "Birds in their nests agree,
+ And 'tis a shocking sight
+ When folks, who should harmonious be,
+ Fall out and chide and fight.
+
+ "The tones of Andy and of Joe
+ Should join in friendly games--
+ Not be debased to vice so low
+ As that of calling names.
+
+ "Bad names and naughty names require
+ To be chastized at school,
+ But he's in danger of hell-fire
+ Who talks of 'crank' and 'fool.'
+
+ "Oh 'tis a dreadful thing to see
+ The old folks smite and jaw,
+ But pleasant it is to agree
+ On the election law.
+
+ "Let Joe and Andy leave their wrongs
+ For sinners to contest;
+ So shall they some time swell the songs
+ Of Israel's ransomed blest."
+
+
+
+
+THE MIGHTY WEST.
+
+
+ Oh, where abides the fond kazoo,
+ The barrel-organ fair,
+ And where is heard the tra-la-loo
+ Of fish horns on the air?
+ And where are found the fife and drum
+ Discoursed with goodliest zest?
+ And where do fiddles liveliest hum?
+ The west--the mighty west!
+
+ Sonatas, fugues, and all o' that
+ Are rightly judged effete,
+ While largos written in B-flat
+ Are clearly out of date;
+ Some like the cold pianny-forty,
+ But whistling suits us best--
+ And op'ry, if it isn't naughty,
+ Will not catch on out west.
+
+ From skinning hogs or canning beef
+ Or diving into stocks,
+ Could we expect to find relief
+ In Haydns or in Bachs?
+ Ah, no; from pork and wheat and lard
+ We turn aside with zest
+ To sing some opus of some bard
+ Whose home is in the west.
+
+ So get ye gone, ye weakling crew!
+ Your tunes are stale and flat,
+ And cannot hold a candle to
+ The works of Silas Pratt!
+ His opuses are in demand
+ And are the final test
+ By which all others fall or stand
+ In this the mighty west!
+
+
+
+
+APRIL.
+
+
+ Now April with sweet showers of freshening rain
+ Has roused last summer's vigorous breath once more;
+ 'Tis in the air, the house, the street, the lane--
+ Puffs through the walls and oozes through the floor.
+
+ The rau-cous-throated frog ayont the sty
+ Sends forth, as erst, his amerous vermal croak,
+ Each hungry mooly casts her swivel eye
+ For pots and pails in which her nose to poke.
+
+ With gurgling glee the gutter gushes by,
+ Fraught all with filth, unknown and nameless dirt--
+ A dead green goose, an o'er-ripe rat I spy;
+ Head of a cat, tail of a flannel shirt.
+
+ The querulous cry of every gabbling goose
+ From thousand-scented mudholes echoes o'er;
+ The dogs and yawling cats have gotten loose
+ And mock the hideous howls of hell once more.
+
+ By yon scrub oak, where roots the sallow sow,
+ In where John Murphy's wife outpours her slop;
+ Right there you'll find there's almost stench now
+ To cause the world its nostrils to estop.
+
+ And yonder dauntless goat that bank adown,
+ That wreathes his old fantastic horns so high,
+ Gnaws sadly on the bustle of Miss Brown,
+ Which she discarded in the months gone by.
+
+ So in Goose Island cometh April round;
+ Full eagerly we watch the month's approach--
+ The season of sweet sight and pleasant sound,
+ The season of the bedbug and the roach.
+
+
+
+
+REPORT OF THE BASEBALL GAME.
+
+
+ It was a very pleasant game,
+ And there was naught of grumbling
+ Until the baleful tidings came
+ That Williamson was "fumbling."
+ Then all at once a hideous gloom
+ Fell o'er all manly features,
+ And Clayton's cozy, quiet room
+ Was full of frantic creatures.
+
+ "Click, click," the tiny ticker went,
+ The tape began to rattle,
+ And pallid, eager faces bent
+ To read the news from battle;
+ Down, down, ten million feet or more,
+ Chicago's hope went tumbling,
+ When came the word that Burns and Gore
+ And Pfeffer, too, were "fumbling."
+
+ No diagram was needed then
+ To point the Browns to glory--
+ The simple fact that these four men
+ Were "fumbling" told the story.
+ There is not a club in all the land--
+ No odds how weak or humble--
+ That beats us when our short-stop and
+ Our second baseman "fumble."
+
+ There was some talk of hippodrome
+ 'Mid frequent calls for liquor,
+ Then each Chicago man went home
+ Much wiser, poorer, sicker;
+ And many a giant intellect
+ Seemed slowly, surely crumbling
+ Beneath the dolorous effect
+ Of that St. Louis "fumbling."
+
+ Ah, well, the struggle's but just begun,
+ So what is the use of fretting
+ If by a little harmless fun
+ Our boys can bull the betting?
+ When comes the tug of war there'll be
+ No accidental stumbling,
+ And then, you bet your boots, you'll see
+ No mention made of "fumbling."
+
+
+
+
+THE ROSE.
+
+
+ Since the days of old Adam the welkin has rung
+ With the praises of sweet scented posies,
+ And poets in rapturous phrases have sung
+ The paramount beauties of roses.
+
+ Wheresoever she bides, whether nestling in lanes
+ Or gracing the proud urban bowers,
+ The red, royal rose her distinction maintains
+ As the one regnant queen among flowers.
+
+ How joyous are we of the west when we find
+ That Fate, with her gifts ever chary,
+ Has decreed that the Rose, who is queen of her kind
+ Shall bloom on our wild western prairie.
+
+ Let us laugh at the east as an impotent thing
+ With envy and jealously crazy,
+ While grateful Chicago is happy to sing
+ In the praise of the rose--she's a daisy.
+
+
+
+
+KANSAS CITY VS. DETROIT.
+
+
+ A rooster flapped his wings and crowed
+ A merrysome cockadoodledoo,
+ As out of the west a cowboy rode
+ To the land where the peach and the clapboard grew,
+ Humming a gentle tralalaloo.
+
+ "O insect with the gilded wing,"
+ The cowboy cried, "Pray tell me true
+ Why do you crane your neck and sing
+ That wearisome cockadoodledoo?
+ Would you like to learn the tralalaloo?"
+
+ Now the rooster squawked an impudent word
+ Whereat the angered cowboy threw
+ His lariat at the haughty bird
+ And choked him until his gills were blue
+ And his eyes hung out an inch or two.
+
+ "Now hear _me_ sing," the cowboy cried;
+ "It ain't no cockadoodledoo--
+ It's a song we sing on the prairies wide--
+ The simple song of tralalaloo,
+ Which is cowboy slang for 12 to 2."
+
+
+
+
+ME AND BILKAMMLE.
+
+
+ I will, if you choose,
+ Impart you some news
+ That will greatly astound you, I know;
+ You would never suspect
+ My ambition was wreck'd
+ 'Till you heard my confession of woe.
+ 'Tis not that my boom
+ Has ascended the flume--
+ In other words, gone up the spout--
+ I could smile a sweet smile
+ This tempestuous while,
+ But me and Bilkammle are out!
+
+ Being timid and shrinkin',
+ He did all the thinkin',
+ When _I_ did the talkin' worth mention;
+ 'Twas my constant ambition
+ To soar to position
+ So I gave it exclusive attention;
+ And supposin' that he
+ Would of course be for me,
+ I rambled and prattled about
+ 'Till I found to my horror,
+ Vexation, and sorror,
+ That me and Bilkammle were out.
+
+ As I tore my red hair
+ In a fit of despair
+ I heard my Achates complain
+ That the gent with the coffer
+ Had nothing to offer
+ In the way of relieving his pain!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ If there's mortal to blame
+ For this villainous game
+ Which has snuffed a great man beyond doubt.
+ It's that treacherous mammal
+ Entitled Bilkammle--
+ Which accounts for us two bein' out!
+
+
+
+
+TO THE DETROIT BASEBALL CLUB.
+
+
+ You've scooped the vealy city crowd
+ Of glory and of purse--
+ Why shouldn't Pegasus be proud
+ To trot you out in a verse?
+ Chicago hoped to wallop you
+ By a tremendous score,
+ But bit off more than it could chew,
+ As witness: "5 to 4."
+
+ Well done, you 'Ganders! here's a hand
+ To every one of you;
+ These record-breakers of the land
+ Now break themselves in two.
+ Well get their pennant--it shall float
+ Upon our distant shore,
+ So let each patriotic throat
+ Hurrah for "5 to 4."
+
+
+
+
+A BALLAD OF ANCIENT OATHS.
+
+
+ Ther ben a knyght, Sir Hoten hight,
+ That on a time did swere
+ In mighty store othes mickle sore,
+ Whiche grieved his wiffe to here.
+
+ Soth, whenne she scoft, his wiffe did oft
+ Swere as a lady may;
+ "I'faith," "I'sooth," or "lawk" in truth
+ Ben alle that wiffe wold say.
+
+ Soe whenne her good man waxed him wood
+ She mervailed much to here
+ The hejeous sound of othes full round
+ The which her lord did swere.
+
+ "Now, pray thee, speke and tell me eke
+ What thing hath vexed thee soe?"
+ The wiffe she cried; but he replied
+ By swereing moe and moe.
+
+ Her sweren zounds which be Gog's wounds,
+ By bricht Marie and Gis,
+ By sweit Sanct Ann and holie Tan
+ And by Bryde's bell, ywis.
+
+ By holie grails, by 'slids and 'snails,
+ By old Sanct Dunstan bauld,
+ The virgin faire that him did beare,
+ By him that Judas sauld;
+
+ By Arthure's sword, by Paynim horde,
+ By holie modyr's teir,
+ By Cokis breath, by Zooks and 's death,
+ And by Sanct Swithen deir;
+
+ By divells alle, both greate and smalle,
+ And in hell there be,
+ By bread and salt, and by Gog's malt,
+ And by the blody tree;
+
+ By Him that worn the crown of thorn
+ And by the sun and mone,
+ By deir Sanct Blanc and Sanct Fillane,
+ And three kings of Cologne;
+
+ By the gude Lord and His sweit word,
+ By him that herryit hell,
+ By blessed Jude, by holie rude,
+ And eke be Gad himsell!
+
+ He sweren soe (and mickle moe)
+ It made man's flesch to creepen,
+ The air ben blue with his ado
+ And sore his wiffe ben wepen.
+
+ Giff you wold know why sweren soe
+ The goodman high Sir Hoten,
+ He ben full wroth, because, in soth,
+ He leesed his coler boten.
+
+
+
+
+AN OLD SONG REVISED.
+
+
+ John Hamilton, my Jo John,
+ When first we were acquaint
+ You were as lavish as could be
+ With your vermillion paint;
+ But now the head that once was red
+ Seems veiled in sable woe,
+ And clouds of gloom obscure your boom,
+ John Hamilton, my Jo.
+
+ Oh, was it Campbell's hatchet wrought
+ The ruin we deplore?
+ Or was it Abnor Taylor's thirst
+ For your abundant gore?
+ Or was it Hank's ambitious pranks
+ That laid our idol low?
+ Come, let us know how came you so,
+ John Hamilton, my Joe!
+
+ We pine to know the awful truth.
+ So, pray, be pleased to tell
+ The story--full of tragic fire--
+ How one great statesman fell;
+ How dives' hand stalked in the land
+ And dealt a crushing blow
+ At one proud name--which you're the same,
+ John Hamilton, my Jo!
+
+
+
+
+THE GRATEFUL PATIENT.
+
+
+ The doctor leaned tenderly over the bed
+ And looked at the patient 's complexion,
+ And felt of the pulse and the feverish head,
+ Then stood for a time in reflection.
+ "A strange complication!
+ My recommendation
+ Is morphia by hypodermic injection."
+
+ The patient looked up with a leer in his eye
+ And winked in the doctor's direction--
+ "Well, Doc," he remarked, "since you say I must die,
+ I'm grateful to you for protection--
+ I'm now in position
+ To ask the commission
+ T' excuse me from serving as judge of election."
+
+
+
+
+THE BEGINNING AND THE END.
+
+
+ Death
+ In my breath,
+ Cried I then:
+ "Men
+ Burn and blight!
+ Nourish crime!
+ Scale the height!
+ Climb, men, climb!
+ Climb and fight!
+ Win by might!
+ Wrong or right!
+ Blood!"
+
+ Well
+ In a cell
+ Here I am--
+ D----n!
+ From my flight
+ So sublime
+ I alight
+ Ere my time,
+ And in fright
+ Here I grope
+ Through the night
+ Without hope.
+ What a plight!
+ Ah, the rope!
+ Thud!
+
+
+
+
+CLARE MARKET.
+
+
+ In the market of Clare, so cheery the glare
+ Of the shops and the booths of the tradespeople there,
+ That I take a delight, on a Saturday night,
+ In walking that way and viewing the sight;
+ For it's here that one sees all the objects that please--
+ New patterns in silk and old patterns in cheese,
+ For the girls pretty toys, rude alarums for boys,
+ And baubles galore which discretion enjoys--
+ But here I forbear, for I really despair
+ Of naming the wealth of the market of Clare!
+
+ The rich man comes down from the elegant town,
+ And looks at it all with an ominous frown;
+ He seems to despise the grandiloquent cries
+ Of the vender proclaiming his puddings and pies;
+ And sniffing he goes through the lanes that disclose
+ Much cause for disgust to his sensitive nose;
+ Once free from the crowd, he admits that he is proud
+ That elsewhere in London this thing's not allowed--
+ He has seen nothing there but filth everywhere,
+ And he's glad to get out of the market of Clare.
+
+ But the child that has come from the neighboring slum
+ Is charmed by the magic of dazzle and hum;
+ He feasts his big eyes on the cakes and pies
+ And they seem to grow green and protrude with surprise
+ At the goodies they vend and the toys without end--
+ And it's oh if he had but a penny to spend!
+ But alas! he must gaze in a hopeless amaze
+ At treasures that glitter and torches that blaze--
+ What sense of despair in this world can compare
+ With that of the waif in the market of Clare?
+
+ So, on Saturday nights, when my custom invites
+ A stroll in old London for curious sights,
+ I am likely to stray by a devious way
+ Where goodies are spread in a motley array,
+ The things which some eyes would appear to despise
+ Impress me as pathos in homely disguise,
+ And my tattered waif friend shall have pennies to spend,
+ As long as I've got 'em (or friends that will lend);
+ And the urchin shall share in my joy and declare
+ That there's beauty and good in that marketplace there!
+
+
+
+
+UNCLE EPHRAIM.
+
+
+ My Uncle Ephraim was a man who did not live in vain,
+ And yet, why he succeeded so I never _could_ explain;
+ By nature he was not endowed with wit to a degree,
+ But folks allowed there nowhere lived a better man than he;
+ He started poor but soon got rich; he went to congress then,
+ And held that post of honor long against much brainier men;
+ He never made a famous speech or did a thing of note,
+ And yet the praise of Uncle Eph welled up from every throat.
+
+ I recollect I never heard him say a bitter word;
+ He never carried to and fro unpleasant things he heard;
+ He always doffed his hat and spoke to every one he knew,
+ He tipped to poor and rich alike a genial "how-dy'-do";
+ He kissed the babies, praised their looks, and said: "That child will
+ grow
+ To be a Daniel Webster or our president, I know!"
+ His voice was so mellifluous, his smile so full of mirth,
+ That folks declared he was the best and smartest man on earth!
+
+ Now, father was a _smarter_ man, and yet he never won
+ Such wealth and fame as Uncle Eph, "the deestrick's favorite son";
+ He had "convictions" and he was not loath to speak his mind--
+ He went his way and said his say as he might be inclined;
+ Yes, _he_ was brainy; yet his life was hardly a success--
+ He was too honest and too smart for this vain world, I guess!
+ At any rate, I wondered he was unsuccessful when
+ My Uncle Eph, a duller man, was so revered of men!
+
+ When Uncle Eph was dying he called me to his bed,
+ And in a tone of confidence inviolate he said:
+ "Dear Willyum, ere I seek repose in yonder blissful sphere
+ I fain would breathe a secret in your adolescent ear;
+ Strive not to hew your way through life--it really doesn't pay;
+ Be sure the salve of flattery soaps all you do and say!
+ Herein the only royal road to fame and fortune lies;
+ Put not your trust in vinegar--_molasses_ catches flies!"
+
+
+
+
+THIRTY-NINE.
+
+
+ O hapless day! O wretched day!
+ I hoped you'd pass me by--
+ Alas, the years have sneaked away
+ And all is changed but I!
+ Had I the power, I would remand
+ You to a gloom condign,
+ But here you've crept upon me and
+ I--I am thirty-nine!
+
+ Now, were I thirty-five, I could
+ Assume a flippant guise,
+ Or, were I forty years, I should
+ Undoubtedly look wise;
+ For forty years are said to bring
+ Sedateness superfine,
+ But thirty-nine don't mean a thing--
+ _A bas_ with thirty-nine!
+
+ You healthy, hulking girls and boys--
+ What makes you grow so fast?
+ Oh, I'll survive your lusty noise--
+ I'm tough and bound to last!
+ No, no--I'm old and withered, too--
+ I feel my powers decline.
+ (Yet none believes this can be true
+ Of one at thirty-nine.)
+
+ And you, dear girl with velvet eyes,
+ I wonder what you mean
+ Through all our keen anxieties
+ By keeping sweet sixteen.
+ With your dear love to warm my heart,
+ Wretch were I to repine--
+ I was but jesting at the start--
+ I'm glad I'm thirty-nine!
+
+ So, little children, roar and race
+ As blithely as you can
+ And, sweetheart, let your tender grace
+ Exalt the Day and Man;
+ For then these factors (I'll engage)
+ All subtly shall combine
+ To make both juvenile and sage
+ The one who's thirty-nine!
+
+ Yes, after all, I'm free to say
+ That I rejoice to be
+ Standing as I do stand to-day
+ 'Twixt devil and deep sea;
+ For, though my face be dark with care
+ Or with a grimace shine,
+ Each haply falls unto my share;
+ Since I am thirty-nine!
+
+ 'Tis passing meet to make good cheer
+ And lord it like a king,
+ Since only once we catch the year
+ That doesn't mean a thing.
+ O happy day! O gracious day!
+ I pledge thee in this wine--
+ Come let us journey on our way
+ A year, good Thirty-Nine!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 18.
+
+
+ O Varus mine
+ Plant thou the vine
+ Within this kindly soil of Tibur;
+ Nor temporal woes
+ Nor spiritual knows
+ The man who's a discreet imbiber.
+ For who doth croak
+ Of being broke
+ Or who of warfare, after drinking?
+ With bowl atween us,
+ Of smiling Venus
+ And Bacchus shall we sing, I'm thinking.
+
+ Of symptoms fell
+ Which brawls impel
+ Historic data give us warning;
+ The wretch who fights
+ When full of nights
+ Is bound to have a head next morning.
+ I do not scorn
+ A friendly horn,
+ But noisy toots--I can't abide 'em!
+ Your howling bat
+ Is stale and flat
+ To one who knows, because he's tried 'em!
+
+ The secrets of
+ The life of love
+ (Companionship with girls and toddy)
+ I would not drag
+ With drunken brag
+ Into the ken of everybody,
+ But in the shade
+ Let some coy maid
+ With smilax wreathe my flagon's nozzle--
+ Then, all day long,
+ With mirth and song,
+ Shall I enjoy a quiet sozzle!
+
+
+
+
+THREE RHINELAND DRINKING SONGS.
+
+
+ I.
+
+ If our life is the life of a flower
+ (And that's what some sages are thinking),
+ We should moisten the bud with a health-giving flood
+ And 'twill bloom all the sweeter--
+ Yes, life's the completer
+ For drinking,
+ and drinking,
+ and drinking!
+
+ If it be that our life is a journey
+ (As many wise folks are opining),
+ We should sprinkle the way with the rain while we may;
+ Though dusty and dreary,
+ 'Tis made cool and cheery
+ With wining,
+ and wining,
+ and wining!
+
+ If this life that we live be a dreaming
+ (As pessimist people are thinking),
+ To induce pleasant dreams there is nothing, me seems,
+ Like this sweet prescription,
+ That baffles description--
+ This drinking,
+ and drinking,
+ and drinking!
+
+
+ II.
+
+ ("Fiducit.")
+
+ Three comrades on the German Rhine--
+ Defying care and weather--
+ Together quaffed the mellow wine
+ And sung their songs together,
+ What recked they of the griefs of life
+ With wine and song to cheer them?
+ Though elsewhere trouble might be rife,
+ It would not come anear them!
+
+ Anon one comrade passed away,
+ And presently another--
+ And yet unto the tryst each day
+ Repaired the lonely brother,
+ And still, as gayly as of old,
+ That third one, hero-hearted,
+ Filled to the brim each cup of gold
+ And called to the departed:
+
+ "O comrades mine, I see you not,
+ Nor hear your kindly greeting;
+ Yet in this old familiar spot
+ Be still our loving meeting!
+ Here have I filled each bouting cup
+ With juices red and cherry--
+ I pray ye drink the portion up,
+ And, as of old, make merry!"
+
+ And once before his tear-dimmed eyes,
+ All in the haunted gloaming,
+ He saw two ghostly figures rise
+ And quaff the beakers foaming;
+ He heard two spirit voices call:
+ "Fiducit, jovial brother!"
+ And so forever from that hall
+ Went they with one another.
+
+
+ III.
+
+ (Der Mann im Keller.)
+
+ How cool and fair this cellar where
+ My throne a dusky cask is!
+ To do no thing but just to sing
+ And drown the time my task is!
+ The cooper, he's
+ Resolved to please,
+ And, answering to my winking,
+ He fills me up
+ Cup after cup
+ For drinking, drinking, drinking.
+
+ Begrudge me not this cozy spot
+ In which I am reclining--
+ Why, who would burst with envious thirst
+ When he can live by wining?
+ A roseate hue seems to imbue
+ The world on which I'm blinking;
+ My fellow men--I love them when
+ I'm drinking, drinking, drinking.
+
+ And yet, I think, the more I drink,
+ It's more and more I pine for--
+ Oh such as I (forever dry!)
+ God made this land of Rhine for!
+ And there is bliss
+ In knowing this,
+ As to the floor I'm sinking;
+ I've wronged no man,
+ And never can,
+ While drinking, drinking, drinking!
+
+
+
+
+THE THREE TAILORS.
+
+(From the German of C. Herlossohn.)
+
+
+ I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time,
+ Three tailors tramped up to the Inn Ingleheim
+ On the Rhine--lovely Rhine;
+ They were broke, but, the worst of it all, they were curst
+ With that malady common to tailors--a thirst
+ For wine--lots of wine!
+
+ "Sweet host," quoth the three, "we're as hard up as can be,
+ Yet skilled in the practice of cunning are we
+ On the Rhine--genial Rhine;
+ And we pledge you we will impart you that skill
+ Right quickly and fully, providing you'll fill
+ Us with wine--cooling wine!"
+
+ But that host shook his head, and warily said:
+ "Though cunning be good, we take money instead,
+ On the Rhine--thrifty Rhine;
+ If ye fancy ye may without pelf have your way
+ You'll find there's both host and the devil to pay
+ For your wine--costly wine!"
+
+ Then the first knavish wight took his needle so bright
+ And threaded its eye with a wee ray of light
+ From the Rhine--sunny Rhine;
+ And in such a deft way patched a mirror that day
+ That where it was mended no expert could say--
+ Done so fine--'twas for wine!
+
+ The second thereat spied a poor little gnat
+ Go toiling along on his nose broad and flat
+ Toward the Rhine--pleasant Rhine;
+ "Aha, tiny friend, I should hate to offend,
+ But your stockings need darning," which same did he mend,
+ All for wine--soothing wine!
+
+ And next there occurred what you'll deem quite absurd--
+ His needle a space in the wall thrust the third,
+ By the Rhine--wondrous Rhine;
+ And then, all so spry, he leapt through the eye
+ Of that thin cambric needle; nay, think you I'd lie
+ About wine? Not for wine!
+
+ The landlord allowed (with a smile) he was proud
+ To do the fair thing by that talented crowd
+ On the Rhine--generous Rhine!
+ So a thimble filled he as full as could be;
+ "Drink long and drink hearty, my jolly guests three,
+ Of my wine--filling wine!"
+
+
+
+
+MORNING HYMN.
+
+
+ I'd dearly love to tear my hair
+ And romp around a bit,
+ For I am mad enough to swear
+ Since Brother Chauncy quit.
+
+ I am so vilely prone to sin--
+ Vain ribald that I am--
+ I'd take a hideous pleasure in
+ Just one prodigious "damn."
+
+ But shall I yield to Satan's wiles
+ And let my passions swell?
+ Nay, I will wreath my face in smiles,
+ And mock the powers of hell.
+
+ And howsoever pride may roll
+ Its billows through my frame,
+ I'll not condemn my precious soul
+ Unto the quenchless flame!
+
+ But rather will I humbly pray
+ Divinity to wash
+ From out my mouth such words away
+ As "Jiminy" and "Gosh."
+
+
+
+
+DOCTORS.
+
+
+ 'Tis quite the thing to say and sing
+ Gross libels on the doctor--
+ To picture him an ogre grim
+ Or humbug-pill concocter;
+ Yet it's in quite another light
+ My friendly pen would show him--
+ Glad that it might with verse repay
+ Some part of what I owe him!
+
+ When one's all right he's prone to spite
+ The doctor's peaceful mission;
+ But, when he's sick, it's loud and quick
+ He bawls for a physician!
+ With other things the doctor brings
+ Sweet babes our hearts to soften;
+ Though I have four, I pine for more--
+ Good doctor, pray, come often!
+
+ What though he sees death and disease
+ Run riot all around him,
+ Patient and true, and valorous, too--
+ Such have I always found him!
+ Where'er he goes he soothes our woes,
+ And, when skill's unavailing
+ And death is near, his words of cheer
+ Support our courage failing.
+
+ In ancient days they used to praise
+ The godlike art of healing;
+ An art that then engaged all men
+ Possessed of sense and feeling;
+ Why, Raleigh--he was glad to be
+ Famed for a quack elixir,
+ And Digby sold (as we are told)
+ A charm for folk love-sick, sir!
+
+ Napoleon knew a thing or two,
+ And clearly he was partial
+ To doctors, for, in time of war,
+ He chose one for marshal,
+ In our great cause a doctor was
+ The first to pass death's portal,
+ And Warren's name at once became
+ A beacon and immortal!
+
+ A heap, indeed, of what we read
+ By doctors is provided,
+ For to those groves Apollo loves
+ Their leaning is decided;
+ Deny who may that Rabelais
+ Is first in wit and learning--
+ And yet all smile and marvel while
+ His brilliant leaves they're turning.
+
+ How Lever's pen has charmed all men--
+ How touching Rab's short story!
+ And I will stake my all that Drake
+ Is still the schoolboy's glory!
+ A doctor-man it was began
+ Great Britain's great museum;
+ The treasures there are all so rare,
+ It drives me wild to see 'em!
+
+ There's Cuvier, Parr and Rush--they are
+ Big monuments to learning;
+ To Mitchell's prose (how smooth it flows!)
+ We all are fondly turning;
+ Tomes might be writ of that keen wit
+ Which Abernethy's famed for--
+ With bread-crumb pills he cured the ills
+ Most doctors get blamed for!
+
+ In modern times the noble rhymes
+ Of Holmes (a great physician!)
+ Have solace brought and wisdom taught
+ To hearts of all conditions.
+ The sailor bound for Puget sound
+ Finds pleasure still unfailing,
+ If he but troll the barcarole
+ Old Osborne wrote on Whaling!
+
+ If there were need I could proceed
+ Ad naus, with this prescription,
+ But, inter nos, a larger dose
+ Might give you fits conniption;
+ Yet, ere I end, there's one dear friend
+ I'd hold before these others,
+ For he and I in years gone by,
+ Have chummed around like brothers.
+
+ Together we have sung in glee
+ The songs old Horace made for
+ Our genial craft--together quaffed
+ What bowls that doctor paid for!
+ I love the rest, but love him best,
+ And, were not times so pressing,
+ I'd buy and send--you smile, old friend?
+ Well, then, here goes my blessing.
+
+
+
+
+BEN APFELGARTEN.
+
+
+ There was a certain gentleman, Ben Apfelgarten called,
+ Who lived way off in Germany a many years ago,
+ And he was very fortunate in being very bald,
+ And so was very happy he was so.
+ He warbled all the day
+ Such songs as only they
+ Who are very, very circumspect and very happy may;
+ The people wondered why,
+ As the years went grinding by,
+ They never heard him once complain or even heave a sigh!
+
+ The women of the province fell in love with genial Ben,
+ Till (maybe you can fancy it) the dickens was to pay
+ Among the callow students and the sober-minded men--
+ With the women folk a-cuttin' up that way!
+ Why, they gave him turbans red
+ To adorn his hairless head,
+ And knitted jaunty nightcaps to protect him when abed!
+ In vain the rest demurred--
+ Not a single chiding word
+ Those ladies deigned to tolerate--remonstrance was absurd!
+
+ Things finally got into such a very dreadful way
+ That the others (oh, how artful!) formed the politic design
+ To send him to the reichstag; so, one dull November day
+ They elected him a member from the Rhine!
+ Then the other members said:
+ "Gott in Himmel; what a head!"
+ But they marveled when his speeches they listened to or read;
+ And presently they cried:
+ "There must be heaps inside
+ Of the smooth and shiny cranium his constituents deride!"
+
+ Well, when at last he up 'nd died--long past his ninetieth year--
+ The strangest and the most luguberous funeral he had,
+ For women came in multitudes to weep upon his bier--
+ The men all wond'ring why on earth the women had gone mad!
+ And this wonderment increased,
+ Till the sympathetic priest
+ Inquired of those same ladies: "Why this fuss about deceased?"
+ Whereupon they were appalled,
+ For, as one, those women squalled:
+ "We doted on deceased for being bald--bald--bald!"
+
+ He was bald because his genius burnt that shock of hair away,
+ Which, elsewise, clogs one's keenness and activity of mind,
+ And (barring present company, of course,) I'm free to say
+ That, after all, it's intellect that captures woman-kind.
+ At any rate, since then
+ (With a precedent in Ben),
+ The women-folk have been in love with us bald-headed men!
+
+
+
+
+IN HOLLAND.
+
+
+ Our course lay up a smooth canal
+ Through tracks of velvet green,
+ And through the shade that windmills made,
+ And pasture lands between.
+ The kine had canvas on their backs
+ To temper Autumn's spite,
+ And everywhere there was an air
+ Of comfort and delight.
+
+ My wife, dear philosophic soul!
+ Saw here whereof to prate:
+ "Vain fools are we across the sea
+ To boast our nobler state!
+ Go north or south or east or west,
+ Or wheresoever you please,
+ You shall not find what's here combined--
+ Equality and ease!
+
+ "How tidy are these honest homes
+ In every part and nook--
+ The men folk wear a prosperous air,
+ The women happy look.
+ Seeing the peace that smiles around,
+ I would our land was such--
+ Think as you may, I'm free to say
+ I would we were the Dutch!"
+
+ Just then we overtook a boat
+ (The Golden Tulip hight)--
+ Big with the weight of motley freight,
+ It was a goodly sight!
+ Meynheer van Blarcom sat on deck,
+ With pipe in lordly pose,
+ And with his son of twenty-one
+ He played at dominoes.
+
+ Then quoth my wife: "How fair to see
+ This sturdy, honest man
+ Beguile all pain and lust of gain
+ With whatso joys he can;
+ Methinks his spouse is down below
+ Beading a kerchief gay--
+ A babe, mayhap, lolls in her lap
+ In the good old Milky way.
+
+ "Where in the land from whence we came
+ Is there content like this--
+ Where such disdain of sordid gain,
+ Such sweet domestic bliss?
+ A homespun woman I, this land
+ Delights me overmuch--
+ Think as you will and argue still,
+ I like the honest Dutch."
+
+ And then my wife made end of speech--
+ Her voice stuck in her throat,
+ For, swinging around the turn, we found
+ What motor moved the boat;
+ Hitched up in tow-path harness there
+ Was neither horse nor cow,
+ But the buxom frame of a Hollandische dame--
+ Meynheer van Blarcom's frau.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+
+ Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.
+
+ Obvious typographical errors have been corrected as follows:
+
+ Page 6: "Japan" changed to "Spain"
+ Page 85: "you re" changed to "you're"
+ Page 101: comma added after "spiders"
+ Page 113: ' changed to " before "Let"
+ Page 157: "the" changed to "they"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Lyrics, by Eugene Field
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER LYRICS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 36150-8.txt or 36150-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+ http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/5/36150/
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, 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 1.F.3. 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.
diff --git a/36150-8.zip b/36150-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a186b51
--- /dev/null
+++ b/36150-8.zip
Binary files differ
diff --git a/36150-h.zip b/36150-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5e957ba
--- /dev/null
+++ b/36150-h.zip
Binary files differ
diff --git a/36150-h/36150-h.htm b/36150-h/36150-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1af3aa4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/36150-h/36150-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,4424 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+ "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ -->
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+ <head>
+ <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+ <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+ <title>
+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hoosier Lyrics, by Eugene Field.
+ </title>
+ <style type="text/css">
+
+body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+
+p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+
+hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;}
+
+table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+
+.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;}
+
+.center {text-align: center;}
+.right {text-align: right;}
+.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;}
+
+.big {font-size: 125%;}
+.huge {font-size: 150%;}
+.giant {font-size: 175%;}
+
+ </style>
+ </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Lyrics, by Eugene Field
+
+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: Hoosier Lyrics
+
+Author: Eugene Field
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2011 [EBook #36150]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER LYRICS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="giant">HOOSIER<br/>
+LYRICS</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">BY</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">EUGENE FIELD</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">AUTHOR OF</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="big">THE CLINK OF THE ICE, JOHN SMITH,<br/>
+U. S. A., IN WINK-A-WAY-LAND, ETC.</span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/002.png" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center">M. A. DONOHUE &amp; COMPANY</p>
+
+<p class="center">CHICAGO, ILL.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">SELECTED WORKS <i>of</i><br/>
+EUGENE FIELD</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Uniform with this volume</i></p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+<p class="big">The Clink of the Ice<br />
+Hoosier Lyrics<br />
+In Wink-a-Way Land<br />
+John Smith, U. S. A.</p></td></tr></table>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Four volumes, boxed, $3.00</i><br/>
+<i>Single volumes, 75 cents, postpaid</i></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="big">M. A. DONOHUE &amp; CO.</span><br/>
+701-727 S. DEARBORN ST. CHICAGO</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">Copyright, 1905<br/>
+M. A. Donohue &amp; Co.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">INTRODUCTION.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+<p>From whatever point of view the character of Eugene Field is seen,
+genius&mdash;rare and quaint presents itself in childlike simplicity. That he
+was a poet of keen perception, of rare discrimination, all will admit.
+He was a humorist as delicate and fanciful as Artemus Ward, Mark Twain,
+Bill Nye, James Whitcomb Riley, Opie Read, or Bret Harte in their
+happiest moods. Within him ran a poetic vein, capable of being worked in
+any direction, and from which he could, at will, extract that which his
+imagination saw and felt most. That he occasionally left the
+child-world, in which he longed to linger, to wander among the older
+children of men, where intuitively the hungry listener follows him into
+his Temple of Mirth, all should rejoice, for those who knew him not, can
+while away the moments imbibing the genius of his imagination in the
+poetry and prose here presented.</p>
+
+<p>Though never possessing an intimate acquaintanceship with Field, owing
+largely to the disparity in our ages, still there existed a bond of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
+friendliness that renders my good opinion of him in a measure
+trustworthy. Born in the same city, both students in the same college,
+engaged at various times in newspaper work both in St. Louis and
+Chicago, residents of the same ward, with many mutual friends, it is not
+surprising that I am able to say of him that "the world is better off
+that he lived, not in gold and silver or precious jewels, but in the
+bestowal of priceless truths, of which the possessor of this book
+becomes a benefactor of no mean share of his estate."</p>
+
+<p>Every lover of Field, whether of the songs of childhood or the poems
+that lend mirth to the out-pouring of his poetic nature, will welcome
+this unique collection of his choicest wit and humor.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Charles Walter</span> Brown.<br /></p>
+
+<p>Chicago, January, 1905.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p class="right"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">CONTENTS.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><small>PAGE.</small></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>Hoosier Lyrics Paraphrased</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Gettin' On</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Minnie Lee</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Answer to Minnie Lee</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Lizzie</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Our Lady of the Mine</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Penn-Yan Bill</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Ed</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+How Salty Win Out</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+His Queen</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Answer to His Queen</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Alaskan Balladry&mdash;Skans in Love</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The Biggest Fish</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Bonnie Jim Campbell</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Lyman, Frederick and Jim</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+A Wail</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Clendenin's Lament</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+On the Wedding of G. C.</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+To G. C.</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+To Dr. F. W. R.</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace's Ode to "Lydia" Roche</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+A Paraphrase, Circa 1715</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+A Paraphrase, Ostensibly by Dr. I. W.</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace I., 27</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Heine's "Widow or Daughter"</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace II., 20</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace's Spring Poem, Odes I., 4</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_62">62</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace to Ligurine, Odes IV., 10</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace on His Muscle, Epode VI.</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace to Maecenas, Odes III., 29</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace in Love Again, Epode XI.</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+"Good-By&mdash;God Bless You!"</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace, Epode XIV.</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace I., 23</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+A Paraphrase</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+A Paraphrase by Chaucer</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace I., 5</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace I., 20</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Envoy</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace II., 7</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace I., 11</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace I., 13</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace IV., 1</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace to His Patron</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The "Ars Poetica" of Horace&mdash;XVIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace I., 34</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace I., 33</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The "Ars Poetica" of Horace I.</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The Great Journalist in Spain</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Reid, the Candidate</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+A Valentine</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Kissing-Time</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The Fifth of July</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Picnic-Time</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The Romance of a Watch</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Our Baby</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+
+The Color that Suits Me Best</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+How to "Fill"</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_108">108</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Politics in 1888</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The Baseball Score</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Chicago Newspaper Life</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The Mighty West</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+April</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Report of the Baseball Game</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The Rose</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Kansas City vs. Detroit</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Me and Bilkammle</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+To the Detroit Baseball Club</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+A Ballad of Ancient Oaths</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+An Old Song Revised</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The Grateful Patient</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The Beginning and the End</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Clare Market</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Uncle Ephraim</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Thirty-Nine</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Horace I., 18</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Three Rineland Drinking Songs</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+The Three Tailors</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Morning Hymn</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Doctors</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+Ben Apfelgarten</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+In Holland</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HOOSIER LYRICS PARAPHRASED.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+We've come from Indiany, five hundred miles or more,<br />
+Supposin' we wuz goin' to get the nominashin, shore;<br />
+For Col. New assured us (in that noospaper o' his)<br />
+That we cud hev the airth, if we'd only tend to biz.<br />
+But here we've been a-slavin' more like bosses than like men<br />
+To diskiver that the people do not hanker arter Ben;<br />
+It <i>is</i> fur Jeems G. Blaine an' <i>not</i> for Harrison they shout&mdash;<br />
+And the gobble-uns 'el git us<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Ef we</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Don't</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Watch</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Out!</span>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+When I think of the fate that is waiting for Ben,<br />
+I pine for the peace of my childhood again;<br />
+I wish in my sorrow I could strip to the soul<br />
+And hop off once more in the old swimmin' hole!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+The world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew<br />
+(Which is another word for soup) that drips for me and you.</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+"Little Benjy! Little Benjy!" chirps the robin in the tree;<br />
+"Little Benjy!" sighs the clover, "Little Benjy!" moans the bee;<br />
+"Little Benjy! Little Benjy!" murmurs John C. New,<br />
+A-stroking down the whiskers which the winds have whistled through.</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Looks jest like his grampa, who's dead these many years&mdash;<br />
+He wears the hat his grampa wore, pulled down below his ears;<br />
+We'd like to have him four years more, but if he cannot stay&mdash;<br />
+Nothin' to say, good people; nothin' at all to say!</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+There, little Ben, don't cry!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They have busted your boom, I know;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the second term</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For which you squirm</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has gone where good niggers go!</span><br />
+But Blaine is safe, and the goose hangs high&mdash;<br />
+There, little Ben, don't cry!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+
+<tr><td>
+Mabbe we'll git even for this unexpected shock,<br />
+When the frost is on the pumpkin and the fodder's in the shock!</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Oh, the newspaper man! He works for paw;<br />
+He's the liveliest critter 'at ever you saw;<br />
+With whiskers 'at reach f'om his eyes to his throat.<br />
+He knows how to wheedle and rivet a vote;<br />
+He wunst wuz a consul 'way over the sea&mdash;<br />
+But never again a consul he'll be!<br />
+He come back f'om Lon'on one mornin' in May&mdash;<br />
+He come back for bizness, an' here he will stay&mdash;<br />
+Ain't he a awful slick newspaper man?<br />
+A newspaper, newspaper, newspaper man!</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+You kin talk about yer cities where the politicians meet&mdash;<br />
+You kin talk about yer cities where a decent man gits beat;<br />
+With the general run o' human kind I beg to disagree&mdash;<br />
+The little town of Tailholt is good enough f'r me!<br />
+<br />
+Chicago was a pleasant town in eighteen-eighty-eight,<br />
+And I have lived in Washington long time in splendid state;<br />
+But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> all the present prospects are that after ninety-three<br />
+The little town o' Tailholt 'll be good enough f'r me!</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+"I wunst lived in Indiany," said a consul, gaunt and grim,<br />
+As most of us Blaine delegates wuz kind o' guyin' him;<br />
+"I wunst lived in Indiany, and my views wuz widely read,<br />
+Fur I run a daily paper w'ich 'Lije Halford edited;<br />
+But since I've been away f'm home, my paper (seems to me)<br />
+Ain't nearly such a inflooence ez wot it used to be;<br />
+So, havin' done with consulin', I'm goin' to make a break<br />
+Towards making of a paper like the one I used to make."</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Think, if you kin, of his term mos' through,<br />
+An' that ol' man wantin' a secon' term, too;<br />
+Picture him bendin' over the form<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of his consul-gineril, stanch an' grim,</span><br />
+Who has stood the brunt of that jimblain storm&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' that ol' man jest wrapt up in him!</span><br />
+An' the consul-gineril, with eyes all bleared<br />
+An' a haunted look in his ashen beard,<br />
+Kind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> o' gaspin' a feeble way&mdash;<br />
+But soothed to hear the ol' man say<br />
+In a meaning tone (as one well may<br />
+When words are handy and &mdash;&mdash;'s to pay):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Good-by, John; take care of yo'<i>self</i>!"</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">GETTIN' ON.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+When I wuz somewhat younger,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I wuz reckoned purty gay&mdash;</span><br />
+I had my fling at everything<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a rollickin', coltish way,</span><br />
+But times have strangely altered<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since sixty years ago&mdash;</span><br />
+This age of steam an' things don't seem<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like the age I used to know,</span><br />
+Your modern innovations<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Don't suit me, I confess,</span><br />
+As did the ways of the good ol' days&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I'm gettin' on, I guess.</span><br />
+<br />
+I set on the piazza<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' hitch around with the sun&mdash;</span><br />
+Sometimes, mayhap, I take a nap,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Waitin' till school is done,</span><br />
+An' then I tell the children<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The things I done in youth,</span><br />
+An' near as I can (as a venerable man)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I stick to the honest truth!</span><br />
+But the looks of them 'at listen<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seems sometimes to express</span><br />
+The remote idee that I'm gone&mdash;you see!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' I am gettin' on, I guess.</span><br />
+<br />
+I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> get up in the mornin',<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' nothin' else to do,</span><br />
+Before the rest are up and dressed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I read the papers through;</span><br />
+I hang 'round with the women<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All day an' hear 'em talk,</span><br />
+An' while they sew or knit I show<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The baby how to walk;</span><br />
+An' somehow, I feel sorry<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When they put away his dress</span><br />
+An' cut his curls ('cause they're like a girl's)&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm gettin' on, I guess!</span><br />
+<br />
+Sometimes, with twilight round me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I see (or seem to see)</span><br />
+A distant shore where friends of yore<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Linger and watch for me;</span><br />
+Sometimes I've heered 'em callin'<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So tenderlike 'nd low</span><br />
+That it almost seemed like a dream I dreamed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or an echo of long ago;</span><br />
+An' sometimes on my forehead<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There falls a soft caress,</span><br />
+Or the touch of a hand&mdash;you understand&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm gettin' on, I guess.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">MINNIE LEE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>Writing from an Indiana town a young woman asks: "Is the enclosed poem
+worth anything?"</p>
+
+<p>We find that the poem is as follows:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+She has left us, our own darling&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we never more shall see</span><br />
+Here on earth our dearly loved one&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God has taken Minnie Lee.</span><br />
+<br />
+Her heart was full of goodness<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her face was fair to see</span><br />
+And her life was full of beauty&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How we miss our Minnie Lee!</span><br />
+<br />
+But her work on earth is over<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her spirit now is free</span><br />
+She has gone to live in heaven&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall we weep for Minnie Lee?</span><br />
+<br />
+Would we call our angel darling<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Back again across the sea?</span><br />
+No! but sometime up in heaven<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We will meet loved Minnie Lee.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p>To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> the question as to whether this poem is worth anything we chose to
+answer in verse as follows:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Sweet poetess, your poetry<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is bad as bad can be,</span><br />
+And yet we heartily deplore<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The death of Minnie Lee.</span><br />
+<br />
+It would have pleased us better<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If, in His wisdom, He</span><br />
+Had taken you, sweet poetess,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Instead of Minnie Lee.</span><br />
+<br />
+Your turn will come, however,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And swift and sure 'twill be</span><br />
+If you continue sending<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your rhymes on Minnie Lee.</span><br />
+<br />
+From this we hope you will gather<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A dim surmise that we</span><br />
+Don't take much stock in poems<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Concerning Minnie Lee.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">LIZZIE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+I wonder ef all wimmin air<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like Lizzie is when we go out</span><br />
+To theaters an' concerts where<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is things the papers talk about.</span><br />
+Do other wimmin fret and stew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like they wuz bein' crucified&mdash;</span><br />
+Frettin' a show or a concert through,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With wonderin' ef the baby cried?</span><br />
+<br />
+Now Lizzie knows that gran'ma's there<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see that everything is right,</span><br />
+Yet Lizzie thinks that gran'ma's care<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ain't good enuf f'r baby, quite;</span><br />
+Yet what am I to answer when<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She kind uv fidgets at my side,</span><br />
+An' every now and then;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I wonder ef the baby cried?"</span><br />
+<br />
+Seems like she seen two little eyes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A-pinin' f'r their mother's smile&mdash;</span><br />
+Seems like she heern the pleadin' cries<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Uv one she thinks uv all the while;</span><br />
+An'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> she's sorry that she come,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'An' though she allus tries to hide</span><br />
+The truth, she'd ruther stay to hum<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than wonder ef the baby cried.</span><br />
+<br />
+Yes, wimmin folks is all alike&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Lizzie you kin jedge the rest.</span><br />
+There never was a little tyke,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But that his mother loved him best,</span><br />
+And nex' to bein' what I be&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The husband of my gentle bride&mdash;</span><br />
+I'd wisht I wuz that croodlin' wee,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Lizzie wonderin' ef I cried.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">OUR LADY OF THE MINE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all thought well uv,<br />
+And there befell the episode I now perpose to tell uv;<br />
+'Twuz in the year of sixty-nine&mdash;somewhere along in summer&mdash;<br />
+There hove in sight one afternoon a new and curious comer;<br />
+His name wuz Silas Pettibone&mdash;an artist by perfession,<br />
+With a kit of tools and a big mustache and a pipe in his possession;<br />
+He told us, by our leave, he'd kind uv like to make some sketches<br />
+Uv the snowy peaks, 'nd the foamin' crick, 'nd the distant mountain stretches;<br />
+"You're welkim, sir," sez we, although this scenery dodge seemed to us<br />
+A waste uv time where scenery wuz already sooper-<i>floo</i>-us.<br />
+<br />
+All through the summer Pettibone kep' busy at his sketchin'&mdash;<br />
+At daybreak, off for Eagle Pass, and home at nightfall, fetchin'<br />
+That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> everlastin' book uv his with spider lines all through it&mdash;<br />
+Three-Fingered Hoover used to say there warn't no meanin' to it&mdash;<br />
+"God durn a man," sez he to him, "whose shif'less hand is sot at<br />
+A-drawin' hills that's full of quartz that's pinin' to be got at!"<br />
+"Go on," sez Pettibone, "go on, if joshin' gratifies ye,<br />
+But one uv these fine times, I'll show ye sumthin' will surprise ye!"<br />
+The which remark led us to think&mdash;although he didn't say it&mdash;<br />
+That Pettibone wuz owin' us a gredge 'nd meant to pay it.<br />
+<br />
+One evenin' as we sat around the restauraw de Casey,<br />
+A-singin' songs 'nd tellin' yarns the which wuz sumwhat racy,<br />
+In come that feller Pettibone 'nd sez: "With your permission<br />
+I'd like to put a picture I have made on exhibition."<br />
+He sot the picture on the bar 'nd drew aside its curtain,<br />
+Sayin': "I recken you'll allow as how <i>that's</i> art, f'r certain!"<br />
+And then we looked, with jaws agape, but nary word wuz spoken,<br />
+And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> f'r a likely spell the charm uv silence wuz unbroken&mdash;<br />
+Till presently, as in a dream, remarked Three-Fingered Hoover:<br />
+"Onless I am mistaken, this is Pettibone's shef doover!"<br />
+It wuz a face, a human face&mdash;a woman's, fair 'nd tender,<br />
+Sot gracefully upon a neck white as a swan's, and slender;<br />
+The hair wuz kind of sunny, 'nd the eyes wuz sort uv dreamy,<br />
+The mouth wuz half a-smilin', 'nd the cheeks wuz soft 'nd creamy;<br />
+It seemed like she wuz lookin' off into the west out yonder,<br />
+And seemed like, while she looked, we saw her eyes grow softer, fonder&mdash;<br />
+Like, lookin' off into the west where mountain mists wuz fallin',<br />
+She saw the face she longed to see and heerd his voice a-callin';<br />
+"Hooray!" we cried; "a woman in the camp uv Blue Horizon&mdash;<br />
+Step right up, Colonel Pettibone, 'nd nominate your pizen!"<br />
+<br />
+A curious situation&mdash;one deservin' uv your pity&mdash;<br />
+No human, livin' female thing this side of Denver City!<br />
+But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> jest a lot uv husky men that lived on sand 'nd bitters&mdash;<br />
+Do you wonder that that woman's face consoled the lonesome critters?<br />
+And not a one but what it served in some way to remind him<br />
+Of a mother or a sister or a sweetheart left behind him&mdash;<br />
+And some looked back on happier days and saw the old-time faces<br />
+And heerd the dear familiar sounds in old familiar places&mdash;<br />
+A gracious touch of home&mdash;"Look here," sez Hoover, "ever'body<br />
+Quit thinkin' 'nd perceed at oncet to name his favorite toddy!"<br />
+<br />
+It wuzn't long afore the news had spread the country over,<br />
+And miners come a-flockin' in like honey bees to clover;<br />
+It kind uv did 'em good they said, to feast their hungry eyes on<br />
+That picture uv Our Lady in the camp uv Blue Horizon.<br />
+But one mean cuss from Nigger Crick passed criticisms on 'er&mdash;<br />
+Leastwise we overheerd him call her Pettibone's madonner,<br />
+The which we did not take to be respectful to a lady&mdash;<br />
+So<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> we hung him in a quiet spot that wuz cool 'nd dry 'nd shady;<br />
+Which same might not have been good law, but it <i>wuz</i> the right maneuver<br />
+To give the critics due respect for Pettibone's shef doover.<br />
+<br />
+Gone is the camp&mdash;yes, years ago, the Blue Horizon busted,<br />
+And every mother's son uv us got up one day 'nd dusted,<br />
+While Pettibone perceeded east with wealth in his possession<br />
+And went to Yurrup, as I heerd, to study his perfession;<br />
+So, like as not, you'll find him now a-paintin' heads 'nd faces<br />
+At Venus, Billy Florence and the like I-talyun places&mdash;<br />
+But no such face he'll paint again as at old Blue Horizon,<br />
+For I'll allow no sweeter face no human soul sot eyes on;<br />
+And when the critics talk so grand uv Paris 'nd the loover,<br />
+I say: "Oh, but you orter seen the Pettibone shef doover!"</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">PENN-YAN BILL.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td class="center">I.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+In gallus old Kentucky, where the grass is very blue,<br />
+Where the liquor is the smoothest and the girls are fair and true,<br />
+Where the crop of he-gawd gentlemen is full of heart and sand,<br />
+And the stock of four-time winners is the finest in the land;<br />
+Where the democratic party in bourbon hardihood<br />
+For more than half a century unterrified has stood,<br />
+Where nod the black-eyed Susans to the prattle of the rill&mdash;<br />
+There&mdash;there befell the wooing of Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="center">II.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+Down yonder in the cottage that is nestling in the shade<br />
+Of the walnut trees that seem to love that quiet little glade<br />
+Abides a pretty maiden of the bonny name of Sue&mdash;<br />
+As pretty as the black-eyed flow'rs and quite as modest, too;<br />
+And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> lovers came there by the score, of every age and kind,<br />
+But not a one (the story goes) was quite to Susie's mind.<br />
+Their sighs, their protestations, and their pleadings made her ill&mdash;<br />
+Till at once upon the scene hove Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="center">III.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+He came from old Montana and he rode a broncho mare,<br />
+He had a rather howd'y'do and rough-and-tumble air;<br />
+His trousers were of buckskin and his coat of furry stuff&mdash;<br />
+His hat was drab of color and its brim was wide enough;<br />
+Upon each leg a stalwart boot reached just above the knee,<br />
+And in the belt about his waist his weepons carried he;<br />
+A rather strapping lover for our little Susie&mdash;still,<br />
+<i>She</i> was <i>his</i> choice and <i>he</i> was <i>hers</i>, was Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="center">IV.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+We wonder that the ivy seeks out the oaken tree,<br />
+And twines her tendrils round him, though scarred and gnarled he be;<br />
+We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> wonder that a gentle girl, unused to worldly cares,<br />
+Should choose a man whose life has been a constant scrap with bears;<br />
+Ah, 'tis the nature of the vine, and of the maiden, too&mdash;<br />
+So when the bold Montana boy came from his lair to woo,<br />
+The fair Kentucky blossom felt all her heartstrings thrill<br />
+Responsive to the purring of Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="center">V.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+He told her of his cabin in the mountains far away,<br />
+Of the catamount that howls by night, the wolf that yawps by day;<br />
+He told her of the grizzly with the automatic jaw,<br />
+He told her of the Injun who devours his victims raw;<br />
+Of the jayhawk with his tawdry crest and whiskers in his throat,<br />
+Of the great gosh-awful sarpent and the Rocky mountain goat.<br />
+A book as big as Shakespeare's or as Webster's you could fill<br />
+With the yarns that emanated from Penn-Yan Bill!</td></tr>
+
+
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="center">VI.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+Lo, as these mighty prodigies the westerner relates,<br />
+Her pretty mouth falls wide agape&mdash;her eyes get big as plates;<br />
+And when he speaks of varmints that in the Rockies grow<br />
+She shudders and she clings to him and timidly cries "Oh!"<br />
+And then says he: "Dear Susie, I'll tell you what to do&mdash;<br />
+You be my wife, and none of these 'ere things dare pester you!"<br />
+And she? She answers, clinging close and trembling yet: "I will."<br />
+And then he gives her one big kiss, does Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="center">VII.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+Avaunt, ye poet lovers, with your wishywashy lays!<br />
+Avaunt, ye solemn pedants, with your musty, bookish ways!<br />
+Avaunt, ye smurking dandies who air your etiquette<br />
+Upon the gold your fathers worked so long and hard to get!<br />
+How empty is your nothingness beside the sturdy tales<br />
+Which mountaineers delight to tell of border hills and vales&mdash;<br />
+Of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> snaix that crawl, of beasts that yowl, of birds that flap and trill<br />
+In the wild egregious altitude of Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="center">VIII.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+Why, over all these mountain peaks his honest feet have trod&mdash;<br />
+So high above the rest of us he seemed to walk with God;<br />
+He's breathed the breath of heaven, as it floated, pure and free,<br />
+From the everlasting snow-caps to the mighty western sea;<br />
+And he's heard that awful silence which thunders in the ear:<br />
+"There is a great Jehovah, and His biding place is here!"<br />
+These&mdash;these solemn voices and these the sights that thrill<br />
+In the far-away Montana of Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="center">IX.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+Of course she had to love him, for it was her nature to;<br />
+And she'll wed him in the summer, if all we hear be true.<br />
+The blue grass will be waving in that cool Kentucky glade<br />
+Where the black-eyed Susans cluster in the pleasant walnut shade&mdash;<br />
+Where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> the doves make mournful music and the locust trills a song<br />
+To the brook that through the pasture scampers merrily along;<br />
+And speechless pride and rapture ineffable shall fill<br />
+The beatific bosom of Penn-Yan Bill!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">ED.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Ed was a man that played for keeps, 'nd when he tuk the notion,<br />
+You cudn't stop him any more'n a dam 'ud stop the ocean;<br />
+For when he tackled to a thing 'nd sot his mind plum to it,<br />
+You bet yer boots he done that thing though it broke the bank to do it!<br />
+So all us boys uz knowed him best allowed he wusn't jokin'<br />
+When on a Sunday he remarked uz how he'd gin up smokin'.<br />
+Now this remark, that Ed let fall, fell, ez I say, on Sunday&mdash;<br />
+Which is the reason we wuz shocked to see him sail in Monday<br />
+A-puffin' at a snipe that sizzled like a Chinese cracker<br />
+An' smelt fur all the world like rags instead uv like terbacker;<br />
+Recoverin' from our first surprise, us fellows fell to pokin'<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>A heap uv fun at "folks uz said how they had gin up smokin'."<br />
+But Ed&mdash;sez he: "I found my work cud not be done without it&mdash;<br />
+Jes' try the scheme yourself, my friends, ef any uv you doubt it!<br />
+It's hard, I know, upon one's health, but there's a certain beauty<br />
+In makin' sackerfices to the stern demand uv duty!<br />
+So, wholly in a sperrit uv denial 'nd concession<br />
+I mortify the flesh 'nd fur the sake uv my perfession!"</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HOW SALTY WIN OUT.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Used to think that luck wuz luck and nuthin' else but luck&mdash;<br />
+It made no diff'rence how or when or where or why it struck;<br />
+But sev'ral years ago I changt my mind and now proclaim<br />
+That luck's a kind uv science&mdash;same as any other game;<br />
+It happened out in Denver in the spring uv '80, when<br />
+Salty teched a humpback an' win out ten.<br />
+<br />
+Salty wuz a printer in the good ol' Tribune days,<br />
+An', natural-like, he fell in love with the good ol' Tribune ways;<br />
+So, every Sunday evenin' he would sit into the game<br />
+Which in this crowd uv thoroughbreds I think I need not name;<br />
+An' there he'd sit until he rose, an', when he rose he wore<br />
+Invariably less wealth about his person than before.<br />
+<br />
+But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> once there come a powerful change; one sollum Sunday night<br />
+Occurred the tidle wave what put ol' Salty out o' sight!<br />
+He win on deuce an' ace an' jack&mdash;he win on king an' queen&mdash;<br />
+Cliff Bill allowed the like uv how he win wuz never seen!<br />
+An' how he done it wuz revealed to all us fellers when<br />
+He said he teched a humpback to win out ten.<br />
+<br />
+There must be somethin' in it for he never win afore,<br />
+An' when he tole the crowd about the humpback, how they swore!<br />
+For every sport allows it is a losin' game to buck<br />
+Agin the science of a man who's teched a hump f'r luck;<br />
+An' there is no denyin' luck was nowhere in it when<br />
+Salty teched a humpback an' win out ten.<br />
+<br />
+I've had queer dreams an' seen queer things, an' allus tried to do<br />
+The thing that luck apparrently intended f'r me to;<br />
+Cats, funerils, cripples, beggars have I treated with regard,<br />
+An' charity subscriptions have hit me powerful hard;<br />
+But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> what's the use uv talkin'? I say, an' say again;<br />
+You've got to tech a humpback to win out ten!<br />
+<br />
+So, though I used to think that luck wuz lucky, I'll allow<br />
+That luck, for luck, agin a hump ain't nowhere in it now!<br />
+An' though I can't explain the whys an' wherefores, I maintain<br />
+There must be somethin' in it when the tip's so straight an' plain;<br />
+For I wuz there an' seen it, an' got full with Salty when<br />
+Salty teched a humpback and win out ten!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HIS QUEEN.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>Our gifted and genial friend, Mr. William J. Florence, the comedian,
+takes to verses as naturally as a canvas-back duck takes to celery
+sauce. As a balladist he has few equals and no superiors, and when it
+comes to weaving compliments to the gentler sex he is without a peer. We
+find in the New York Mirror the latest verses from Mr. Florence's pen;
+they are entitled "Pasadene," and the first stanza flows in this wise:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+I've journeyed East, I've journeyed West,<br />
+And fair Italia's fields I've seen;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But I declare</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">None can compare</span><br />
+With thee, my rose-crowned Pasadene.</td></tr></table>
+
+<p>Following this introduction come five stanzas heaping even more glowing
+compliments upon this Miss Pasadene&mdash;whoever she may be&mdash;we know her
+not. They are handsome compliments, beautifully phrased, yet they give
+us the heartache, for we know Mrs. Florence, and it grieves us to see
+her husband dribbling away his superb intellect in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> penning verses to
+other women. Yet we think we understand it all; these poets have a
+pretty way of hymning the virtues of their wives under divers aliases.
+So, catching the afflatus of the genial actor-poet's muse, we would
+answer:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Come, now, who is this Pasadene<br />
+That such a whirl of praises warrant?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And is a rose</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Her only clo'es?</span><br />
+Oh, fie upon you, Billy Florence!<br />
+<br />
+Ah, no; that's your poetic way<br />
+Of turning loose your rhythmic torrents&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">This Pasadene</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is not your queen&mdash;</span><br />
+We know you know we know it, Florence!<br />
+<br />
+So sing your songs of women folks&mdash;<br />
+We'll read without the least abhorrence,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Because we know</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Through weal and woe</span><br />
+Your queen is Mrs. Billy Florence!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">ALASKAN BALLADRY.&mdash;III.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(Skans in Love.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+I am like the wretched seal<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wounded by a barbed device&mdash;</span><br />
+Helpless fellow! how I bellow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Floundering on the jagged ice!</span><br />
+<br />
+Sitka's beauty is the steel<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That hath wrought this piteous woe:</span><br />
+Yet would I rather die<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than recover from the blow!</span><br />
+<br />
+Still I'd rather live than die,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grievous though my torment be;</span><br />
+Smite away, but, I pray,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Smite no victim else than me!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE BIGGEST FISH.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+When, in the halcyon days of old, I was a little tyke,<br />
+I used to fish in pickerel ponds for minnows and the like;<br />
+And, oh, the bitter sadness with which my soul was fraught<br />
+When I rambled home at nightfall with the puny string I'd caught!<br />
+And, oh, the indignation and the valor I'd display<br />
+When I claimed that all the biggest fish I'd caught had got away!<br />
+<br />
+Sometimes it was the rusty hooks, sometimes the fragile lines,<br />
+And many times the treacherous reeds were actually to blame.<br />
+I kept right on at losing all the monsters just the same&mdash;<br />
+I never lost a <i>little</i> fish&mdash;yes, I am free to say<br />
+It always was the <i>biggest</i> fish I caught that got away.<br />
+And so it was, when, later on, I felt ambition pass<br />
+From callow minnow joys to nobler greed for pike and bass;<br />
+I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> found it quite convenient, when the beauties wouldn't bite<br />
+And I returned all bootless from the watery chase at night,<br />
+To feign a cheery aspect and recount in accents gay<br />
+How the biggest fish that I had caught had somehow got away.<br />
+<br />
+And, really, fish look bigger than they are before they're caught&mdash;<br />
+When the pole is bent into a bow and the slender line is taut,<br />
+When a fellow feels his heart rise up like a doughnut in his throat<br />
+And he lunges in a frenzy up and down the leaky boat!<br />
+Oh, you who've been a-fishing will indorse me when I say<br />
+That it always <i>is</i> the biggest fish you catch that gets away!<br />
+<br />
+'Tis even so in other things&mdash;yes, in our greedy eyes<br />
+The biggest boon is some elusive, never-captured prize;<br />
+We angle for the honors and the sweets of human life&mdash;<br />
+Like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> fishermen we brave the seas that roll in endless strife;<br />
+And then at last, when all is done and we are spent and gray,<br />
+We own the biggest fish we've caught are those that get away.<br />
+<br />
+I would not have it otherwise; 'tis better there should be<br />
+Much bigger fish than I have caught a-swimming in the sea;<br />
+For now some worthier one than I may angle for that game&mdash;<br />
+May by his arts entice, entrap, and comprehend the same;<br />
+Which, having done, perchance he'll bless the man who's proud to say<br />
+That the biggest fish he ever caught were those that got away.</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">BONNIE JIM CAMPBELL: A LEGISLATIVE MEMORY.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Bonnie Jim Campbell rode up the glen,<br />
+But it wasn't to meet the butterine men;<br />
+It wasn't Phil Armour he wanted to see,<br />
+Nor Haines nor Crafts&mdash;though their friend was he.<br />
+Jim Campbell was guileless as man could be&mdash;<br />
+No fraud in his heart had he;<br />
+'Twas all on account of his character's sake<br />
+That he sought that distant Wisconsin lake.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 3em;">*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>
+Bonnie Jim Campbell came riding home,<br />
+And now he sits in the rural gloam;<br />
+A tear steals furtively down his nose<br />
+As salt as the river that yonder flows;<br />
+To the setting sun and the rising moon<br />
+He plaintively warbles the good old tune:<br />
+<br />
+"Of all the drinks that ever were made&mdash;<br />
+From sherbet to circus lemonade&mdash;<br />
+Not one's so healthy and sweet, I vow,<br />
+As the rich, thick cream of the Elgin cow!<br />
+Oh, that she were here to enliven the scene,<br />
+Right merry would be our hearts, I ween;<br />
+Then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> then again, Bob Wilbanks and I<br />
+Would take it by turns and milk her dry!<br />
+We would stuff her paunch with the best of hay&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br />
+And milk her a hundred times a day!"<br />
+<br />
+'Tis thus that Bonnie Jim Campbell sings&mdash;<br />
+A young he-angel with sprouting wings;<br />
+He sings and he prays that Fate'll allow<br />
+Him one more whack at the Elgin cow!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">LYMAN, FREDERICK AND JIM.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Lyman and Frederick and Jim, one day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Set out in a great big ship&mdash;</span><br />
+Steamed to the ocean down to the bay<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out of a New York slip.</span><br />
+"Where are you going and what is your game?"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The people asked to those three.</span><br />
+"Darned, if we know; but all the same<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Happy as larks are we;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And happier still we're going to be!"</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Said Lyman</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Frederick</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Jim.</span><br />
+<br />
+The people laughed "Aha, oho!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oho, aha!" laughed they;</span><br />
+And while those three went sailing so<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some pirates steered that way.</span><br />
+The pirates they were laughing, too&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The prospect made them glad;</span><br />
+But by the time the job was through<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each of them pirates bold and bad,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had been done out of all he had</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">By Lyman</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Frederick</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Jim.</span><br />
+<br />
+Days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> and weeks and months they sped,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Painting that foreign clime</span><br />
+A beautiful, bright vermillion red&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And having a &mdash; of a time!</span><br />
+'Twas all so gaudy a lark, it seemed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if it could not be,</span><br />
+And some folks thought it a dream they dreamed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of sailing that foreign sea,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I'll identify you these three&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lyman</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Frederick</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Jim.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lyman and Frederick are bankers and sich<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Jim is an editor kind;</span><br />
+The first two named are awfully rich<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Jim ain't far behind!</span><br />
+So keep your eyes open and mind your tricks,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or you are like to be</span><br />
+In quite as much of a Tartar fix<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the pirates that sailed the sea</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And monkeyed with the pardners three,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lyman</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Frederick</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Jim.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">A WAIL.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+My name is Col. Johncey New,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by a hoosier's grace</span><br />
+I have congenial work to do<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At 12 St. Helen's place.</span><br />
+I was as happy as a clam<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A-floating with the tide,</span><br />
+Till one day came a cablegram<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To me from t'other side.</span><br />
+<br />
+It was a Macedonian cry<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Benjy o'er the sea;</span><br />
+"Come hither, Johncey, instantly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And whoop things up for me!"</span><br />
+I could not turn a callous ear<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unto that piteous cry;</span><br />
+I packed my grip, and for the pier<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Directly started I.</span><br />
+<br />
+Alas! things are not half so fair<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As four short years ago&mdash;</span><br />
+The clouds are gathering everywhere<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And boisterous breezes blow;</span><br />
+My<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> wilted whiskers indicate<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The depth of my disgrace&mdash;</span><br />
+Would I were back, enthroned in state,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At 12 St. Helen's place!</span><br />
+<br />
+The saddest words, as I'll allow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That drop from tongue or pen,</span><br />
+Are these sad words I utter now:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"They can't, shan't, won't have Ben!"</span><br />
+So, with my whiskers in my hands,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My journey I'll retrace,</span><br />
+To wreak revenge on foreign lands<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At 12 St. Helen's place.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">CLENDENIN'S LAMENT.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+While bridal knots are being tied<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bridal meats are being basted,</span><br />
+I shiver in the cold outside<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pine for joys I've never tasted.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh, what's a nomination worth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When you have labored months to get it</span><br />
+If, all at once, with heartless mirth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cruel senator's upset it?</span><br />
+<br />
+Fate weaves me such a toilsome way,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My modest wisdom may not ken it&mdash;</span><br />
+But, all the same, a plague I say<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon that stingy, hostile senate!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">ON THE WEDDING OF G. C.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(June 2, 1886.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Oh, hand me down my spike tail coat<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And reef my waistband in,</span><br />
+And tie this necktie round my throat<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fix my bosom pin;</span><br />
+I feel so weak and flustered like,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I don't know what I say&mdash;</span><br />
+For I am to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm to be wedded to-day!</span><br />
+<br />
+Put double sentries at the doors<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pull the curtains down,</span><br />
+And tell the democratic bores<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That I am out of town;</span><br />
+It's funny folks haint decency<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enough to stay away,</span><br />
+When I'm to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm to be wedded to-day!</span><br />
+<br />
+The bride, you say, is calm and cool<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In satin robes of white&mdash;</span><br />
+Well, <i>I</i> am stolid, as a rule,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But now I'm flustered quite;</span><br />
+Upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> a surging sea of bliss<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My soul is borne away,</span><br />
+For I'm to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm to be wedded to-day!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">TO G. C.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(July 12, 1886.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+They say our president has stuck<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Above his good wife's door</span><br />
+The sign provocative of luck&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A horseshoe&mdash;nothing more.</span><br />
+<br />
+Be hushed, O party hates, the while<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That emblem lingers there,</span><br />
+And thou, dear fates, propitious smile<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the wedded pair.</span><br />
+<br />
+I've tried the horseshoe's weird intent<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And felt its potent joy&mdash;</span><br />
+God bless you, Mr. President,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And may it be a boy.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">TO DR. F. W. R.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+If I were rich enough to buy<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A case of wine (though I abhor it),</span><br />
+I'd send a quart of extra dry<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And willingly get trusted for it.</span><br />
+But, lackaday! <i>You</i> know that I'm<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As poor as Job's historic turkey&mdash;</span><br />
+In lieu of Mumm, accept this rhyme,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An honest gift though somewhat jerky.</span><br />
+<br />
+This is your silver wedding day&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You didn't mean to let me know it!</span><br />
+And yet your smiles and raiments gay<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beyond all peradventure show it!</span><br />
+By all you say and do it's clear<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A birdling in your heart is singing,</span><br />
+And everywhere you go you hear<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The old-time bridal bells a-ringing.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ah, well, God grant that these dear chimes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May mind you of the sweetness only</span><br />
+Of those far distant, callow times<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When you were Benedick and lonely&mdash;</span><br />
+And when an angel blessed your lot&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For angel is your helpmeet, truly&mdash;</span><br />
+And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> when, to share the joy she brought,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came other little angels, duly.</span><br />
+<br />
+So here's a health to you and wife&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Long may you mock the Reaper's warning,</span><br />
+And may the evening of your life<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In rising sons renew the morning;</span><br />
+May happiness and peace and love<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come with each morrow to caress ye,</span><br />
+And when you're done with earth, above&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God bless ye, dear old friend&mdash;God bless ye!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE'S ODE TO "LYDIA" ROCHE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No longer the boys,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With their music and noise,</span><br />
+Demand your election as mayor;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Such a milk-wagon hack</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Has no place on the track</span><br />
+When his rival's a thoroughbred stayer.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With your coarse, shallow wit</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Every rational cit</span><br />
+At last is completely disgusted;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The tool of the rings,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Trusts, barons, and things,</span><br />
+What wonder, I wonder, you're busted!<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As soon as that Yerkes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Finds out you can't work his</span><br />
+Intrigues for the popular nickel,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With a tear to deceive you</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He'll drop you and leave you</span><br />
+In your normal condition&mdash;a pickle.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Go,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> dodderer, go</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where the whisker winds blow</span><br />
+And spasms of penitence trouble;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or flounder and whoop</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In an ocean of soup</span><br />
+Where the pills of adversity bubble.</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">A PARAPHRASE, CIRCA 1715.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Since Chloe is so monstrous fair,<br />
+With such an eye and such an air,<br />
+What wonder that the world complains<br />
+When she each am'rous suit disdains?<br />
+<br />
+Close to her mother's side she clings<br />
+And mocks the death her folly brings<br />
+To gentle swains that feel the smarts<br />
+Her eyes inflict upon their hearts.<br />
+<br />
+Whilst thus the years of youth go by,<br />
+Shall Colin languish, Strephon die?<br />
+Nay, cruel nymph! come, choose a mate,<br />
+And choose him ere it be too late!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">A PARAPHRASE, OSTENSIBLY BY DR. I. W.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Why, Mistress Chloe, do you bother<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With prattlings and with vain ado</span><br />
+Your worthy and industrious mother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eschewing them that come to woo?</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh, that the awful truth might quicken<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This stern conviction to your breast:</span><br />
+You are no longer now a chicken<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Too young to quit the parent nest.</span><br />
+<br />
+So put aside your froward carriage<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fix your thoughts, whilst yet there's time,</span><br />
+Upon the righteousness of marriage<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With some such godly man as I'm.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 27.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+In maudlin spite let Thracians fight<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Above their bowls of liquor,</span><br />
+But such as we, when on a spree,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should never bawl and bicker!</span><br />
+<br />
+These angry words and clashing swords<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are quite de trop, I'm thinking;</span><br />
+Brace up, my boys, and hush your noise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And drown your wrath in drinking.</span><br />
+<br />
+Aha, 'tis fine&mdash;this mellow wine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With which our host would dope us!</span><br />
+Now let us hear what pretty dear<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Entangles him of Opus.</span><br />
+<br />
+I see you blush&mdash;nay, comrades, hush!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come, friend, though they despise you,</span><br />
+Tell me the name of that fair dame&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Perchance I may advise you.</span><br />
+<br />
+O wretched youth! and is it truth<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You love that fickle lady?</span><br />
+I, doting dunce, courted her once,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she is reckoned shady!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HEINE'S "WIDOW OR DAUGHTER."</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Shall I woo the one or the other?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both attract me&mdash;more's the pity!</span><br />
+Pretty is the widowed mother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the daughter, too, is pretty.</span><br />
+<br />
+When I see that maiden shrinking,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the gods, I swear I'll get 'er!</span><br />
+But, anon, I fall to thinking<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the mother'll suit me better!</span><br />
+<br />
+So, like any idiot ass&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hungry for the fragrant fodder,</span><br />
+Placed between two bales of grass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lo, I doubt, delay, and dodder!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE II, 20.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Maecenas, I propose to fly<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To realms beyond these human portals;</span><br />
+No common things shall be my wings,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But such as sprout upon immortals.</span><br />
+<br />
+Of lowly birth, once shed of earth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Horace, precious (so you've told him),</span><br />
+Shall soar away&mdash;no tomb of clay<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor Stygian prison house shall hold him.</span><br />
+<br />
+Upon my skin feathers begin<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To warn the songster of his fleeting;</span><br />
+But never mind&mdash;I leave behind<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Songs all the world shall keep repeating.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lo, Boston girls with corkscrew curls,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And husky westerns, wild and woolly,</span><br />
+And southern climes shall vaunt my rhymes&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all profess to know me fully.</span><br />
+<br />
+Methinks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> the west shall know me best<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And therefore hold my memory dearer,</span><br />
+For by that lake a bard shall make<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My subtle, hidden meanings clearer.</span><br />
+<br />
+So cherished, I shall never die&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pray, therefore, spare your dolesome praises,</span><br />
+Your elegies and plaintive cries,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I shall fertilize no daisies!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE'S SPRING POEM.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(Odes I, 4.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+The western breeze is springing up, the ships are in the bay,<br />
+And Spring has brought a happy change as Winter melts away;<br />
+No more in stall or fire the herd or plowman finds delight,<br />
+No longer with the biting frosts the open fields are white.<br />
+<br />
+Our Lady of Lythera now prepares to lead the dance,<br />
+While from above the ruddy moon bestows a friendly glance;<br />
+The nymphs and comely Graces join with Venus and the choir,<br />
+And Vulcan's glowing fancy lightly turns to thoughts of fire.<br />
+<br />
+Now is the time with myrtle green to crown the shining pate,<br />
+And with the early blossoms of the spring to decorate;<br />
+To sacrifice to Faunus&mdash;on whose favor we rely&mdash;<br />
+A sprightly lamb, mayhap a kid, as he may specify.<br />
+<br />
+Impartially<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> the feet of Death at huts and castles strike&mdash;<br />
+The influenza carries off the rich and poor alike;<br />
+O Sestius! though blest you are beyond the common run,<br />
+Life is too short to cherish e'en a distant hope begun.<br />
+<br />
+The Shades and Pluto's mansion follow hard upon la grippe&mdash;<br />
+Once there you cannot throw at dice or taste the wine you sip,<br />
+Nor look on Lycidas, whose beauty you commend,<br />
+To whom the girls will presently their courtesies extend.</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE TO LIGURINE.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(Odes IV, 10.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O cruel fair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whose flowing hair</span><br />
+The envy and the pride of all is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As onward roll</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The years, that poll</span><br />
+Will get as bald as a billiard ball is;<br />
+Then shall your skin, now pink and dimply,<br />
+Be tanned to parchment, sear and pimply!<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When you behold</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Yourself grown old</span><br />
+These words shall speak your spirits moody:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"Unhappy one!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">What heaps of fun</span><br />
+I've missed by being goody-goody!<br />
+Oh! that I might have felt the hunger<br />
+Of loveless age when I was younger!"</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE ON HIS MUSCLE.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(Epode VI.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+You (blatant coward that you are!)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the helpless vent your spite;</span><br />
+Suppose you ply your trade on me&mdash;<br />
+Come, monkey with this bard and see<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How I'll repay your bark with bite!</span><br />
+<br />
+Ay, snarl just once at me, you brute!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I shall hound you far and wide,</span><br />
+As fiercely as through drifted snow<br />
+The shepherd dog pursues what foe<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Skulks on the Spartan mountain side!</span><br />
+<br />
+The chip is on my shoulder, see?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But touch it and I'll raise your fur;</span><br />
+I'm full of business; so beware,<br />
+For, though I'm loaded up for bear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm quite as likely to kill a cur!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE TO MAECENAS.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(Odes III, 29.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Dear noble friend! a virgin cask<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of wine solicits attention&mdash;</span><br />
+And roses fair, to deck your hair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And things too numerous to mention,</span><br />
+So tear yourself awhile away<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From urban turmoil, pride and splendor</span><br />
+And deign to share what humble fare<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sumptuous fellowship I tender;</span><br />
+The sweet content retirement brings<br />
+Smoothes out the ruffled front of kings.<br />
+<br />
+The evil planets have combined<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make the weather hot and hotter&mdash;</span><br />
+By parboiled streams the shepherd dreams<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vainly of ice-cream soda-water;</span><br />
+And meanwhile you, defying heat,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With patriotic ardor ponder</span><br />
+On what old Rome essays at home<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what her heathen do out yonder.</span><br />
+Maecenas, no such vain alarm<br />
+Disturbs the quiet of this farm!<br />
+<br />
+God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> in his providence observes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The goal beyond this vale of sorrow,</span><br />
+And smiles at men in pity when<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They seek to penetrate the morrow.</span><br />
+With faith that all is for the best,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let's bear what burdens are presented,</span><br />
+That we shall say, let come what may,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"We die, as we have lived, contented!</span><br />
+Ours is to-day; God's is the rest&mdash;<br />
+He doth ordain who knoweth best!"<br />
+<br />
+Dame Fortune plays me many a prank&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When she is kind, oh! how I go it!</span><br />
+But if, again, she's harsh, why, then<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am a very proper poet!</span><br />
+When favoring gales bring in my ships,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I hie to Rome and live in clover&mdash;</span><br />
+Elsewise, I steer my skiff out here,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And anchor till the storm blows over.</span><br />
+Compulsory virtue is the charm<br />
+Of life upon the Sabine farm!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE IN LOVE AGAIN.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(Epode XI.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Dear Pettius, once I reeled off rhyme<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Satiric, sad and tender,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But now my quill</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Has lost its skill</span><br />
+And I am dying in my prime<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through love of female gender!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nay, do not laugh</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nor deign to chaff</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your friend with taunts of Lyde</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And other dames</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who've been my flames&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>This</i> time it's bona-fide!</span><br />
+<br />
+I maunder sadly to and fro&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I who was once so jolly!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My old time chums</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gyrate their thumbs</span><br />
+And taunt me, as I sighing go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With what they term my folly.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I told you once,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lake a garrulous dunce,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of my all consuming passion,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And I rolled my eyes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> tragedy wise</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And raved in lovesick fashion.</span><br />
+<br />
+And when I'd aired my woes profound<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You volunteered this warning:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Horace, go light</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On the bowl to-night&mdash;</span><br />
+Ten hours of sleep will bring you round<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All right to-morrow morning!"</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Now ten hours sleep</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">May do a heap</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For callow hearts a-patter,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But I tell you, sir,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This affair du coeur</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of <i>mine</i> is a serious matter!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">"GOOD-BY&mdash;GOD BLESS YOU!"</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+I like the Anglo-Saxon speech<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With its direct revealings&mdash;</span><br />
+It takes a hold and seems to reach<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Way down into your feelings;</span><br />
+That some folk deem it rude, I know,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And therefore they abuse it;</span><br />
+But I have never found it so&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before all else I choose it.</span><br />
+I don't object that men should air<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gallic they have paid for&mdash;</span><br />
+With "au revoir," "adieu, ma chere"&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For that's what French was made for&mdash;</span><br />
+But when a crony takes your hand<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At parting to address you,</span><br />
+He drops all foreign lingo and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He says: "Good-by&mdash;God bless you!"</span><br />
+<br />
+This seems to me a sacred phrase<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With reverence impassioned&mdash;</span><br />
+A thing come down from righteous days,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quaintly but nobly fashioned;</span><br />
+It well becomes an honest face&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A voice that's round and cheerful;</span><br />
+It stays the sturdy in his place<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And soothes the weak and fearful.</span><br />
+Into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> the porches of the ears<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It steals with subtle unction</span><br />
+And in your heart of hearts appears<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To work its gracious function;</span><br />
+And all day long with pleasing song<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It lingers to caress you&mdash;</span><br />
+I'm sure no human heart goes wrong<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That's told "Good-by&mdash;God bless you!"</span><br />
+<br />
+I love the words&mdash;perhaps because,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I was leaving mother,</span><br />
+Standing at last in solemn pause<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We looked at one another,</span><br />
+And&mdash;I saw in mother's eyes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The love she could not tell me&mdash;</span><br />
+A love eternal as the skies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whatever fate befell me;</span><br />
+She put her arms about my neck<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And soothed the pain of leaving,</span><br />
+And, though her heart was like to break,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She spoke no word of grieving;</span><br />
+She let no tear bedim her eye,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For fear <i>that</i> might distress me,</span><br />
+But, kissing me, she said good-by<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And asked her God to bless me.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(Epode XIV.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">You ask me, friend,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Why I don't send</span><br />
+The long since due-and-paid-for numbers&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Why, songless, I</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As drunken lie</span><br />
+Abandoned to Lethæan slumbers.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Long time ago</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">(As well you know)</span><br />
+I started in upon that carmen;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My work was vain&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But why complain?</span><br />
+When gods forbid, how helpless are men!<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Some ages back,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The sage Anack</span><br />
+Courted a frisky Samian body,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Singing her praise</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In metered phrase</span><br />
+As flowing as his bowls of toddy.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Till I was hoarse</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Might I discourse</span><br />
+Upon the cruelties of Venus&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Twere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> waste of time</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As well of rhyme,</span><br />
+For you've been there yourself, Maecenas!<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Perfect your bliss,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">If some fair miss</span><br />
+Love you yourself and <i>not</i> your minæ;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I, fortune's sport,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">All vainly court</span><br />
+The beauteous, polyandrous Phryne!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 23.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Chloe, you shun me like a hind<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That, seeking vainly for her mother,</span><br />
+Hears danger in each breath of wind<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wildly darts this way and t'other.</span><br />
+<br />
+Whether the breezes sway the wood<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or lizards scuttle through the brambles,</span><br />
+She starts, and off, as though pursued,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The foolish, frightened creature scrambles.</span><br />
+<br />
+But, Chloe, you're no infant thing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That should esteem a man an ogre&mdash;</span><br />
+Let go your mother's apron-string<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pin your faith upon a toga!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">A PARAPHRASE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+How happens it, my cruel miss,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You're always giving me the mitten?</span><br />
+You seem to have forgotten this:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you no longer are a kitten!</span><br />
+<br />
+A woman that has reached the years<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of that which people call discretion</span><br />
+Should put aside all childish fears<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And see in courtship no transgression.</span><br />
+<br />
+A mother's solace may be sweet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But Hymen's tenderness is sweeter,</span><br />
+And though all virile love be meet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You'll find the poet's love is metre.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">A PARAPHRASE BY CHAUCER.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken,<br />
+Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken;<br />
+Like as a lyttel deere you been y-hiding<br />
+Whenas come lovers with theyre pityse chiding,<br />
+Sothly it ben faire to give up your moder<br />
+For to beare swete company with some oder;<br />
+Your moder ben well enow so farre shee goeth,<br />
+But that ben not farre enow, God knoweth;<br />
+Wherefore it ben sayed that foolysh ladyes<br />
+That marrye not shall leade an aype in Hayde;<br />
+But all that do with gode men wed full quicklye<br />
+When that they be on dead go to ye seints full sickerly.</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 5.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">With smiles for diet,</span><br />
+Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">On the quiet?</span><br />
+For whom do you bind up your tresses,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">As spun-gold yellow&mdash;</span><br />
+Meshes that go with your caresses,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">To snare a fellow?</span><br />
+<br />
+How will he rail at fate capricious,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And curse you duly;</span><br />
+Yet now he deems your wiles delicious&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>You</i> perfect truly!</span><br />
+Pyrrha, your love's a treacherous ocean&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He'll soon fall in there!</span><br />
+Then shall I gloat on his commotion,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">For <i>I</i> have been there!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 20.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Than you, O valued friend of mine!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A better patron non est&mdash;</span><br />
+Come, quaff my home-made Sabine wine&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You'll find it poor but honest.</span><br />
+<br />
+I put it up that famous day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You patronized the ballet</span><br />
+And the public cheered you such a way<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As shook your native valley.</span><br />
+<br />
+Cæcuban and the Calean brand<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May elsewhere claim attention,</span><br />
+But I have none of these on hand&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For reasons I'll not mention.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge"><i>ENVOY.</i></span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+So come! though favors I bestow<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can not be called extensive,</span><br />
+Who better than my friend should know<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That they're, at least, expensive!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE II, 7.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Pompey, what fortune gives you back<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the friends and the gods who love you&mdash;</span><br />
+Once more you stand in your native land,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With your native sky above you!</span><br />
+Ah, side by side, in years agone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We've faced tempestuous weather,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And often quaffed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The genial draft</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From an amphora together!</span><br />
+<br />
+When honor at Phillippi fell<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A pray to brutal passion,</span><br />
+I regret to say that my feet ran away<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In swift Iambic fashion;</span><br />
+You were no poet-soldier born,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You staid, nor did you wince then&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Mercury came</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To my help, which same</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has frequently saved me since then.</span><br />
+<br />
+But now you're back, let's celebrate<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the good old way and classic&mdash;</span><br />
+Come,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> let us lard our skins with nard<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bedew our souls with Massic!</span><br />
+With fillets of green parsley leaves<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our foreheads shall be done up,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And with song shall we</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Protract our spree</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until the morrow's sun-up.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 11.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Seek not, Lucome, to know how long you're going to live yet&mdash;<br />
+What boons the gods will yet withhold, or what they're going to give yet;<br />
+For Jupiter will have his way, despite how much we worry&mdash;<br />
+Some will hang on for many a day and some die in a hurry,<br />
+The wisest thing for you to do is to embark this diem<br />
+Upon a merry escapade with some such bard as I am;<br />
+And while we sport, I'll reel you off such odes as shall surprise ye&mdash;<br />
+To-morrow, when the headache comes&mdash;well, then I'll satirize ye!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 13.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+When, Lydia, you (once fond and true,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But now grown cold and supercilious)</span><br />
+Praise Telly's charms of neck and arms&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, by the dog! it makes me bilious!</span><br />
+<br />
+Then, with despite, my cheeks wax white,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My doddering brain gets weak and giddy,</span><br />
+My eyes o'erflow with tears which show<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That passion melts my vitals, Liddy!</span><br />
+<br />
+Deny, false jade, your escapade,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, lo! your wounded shoulders show it!</span><br />
+No manly spark left such a mark&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Leastwise he surely was no poet!)</span><br />
+<br />
+With savage buss did Telephus<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Abraid your lips, so plump and mellow&mdash;</span><br />
+As you would save what Venus gave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I charge you shun that awkward fellow!</span><br />
+<br />
+And now I say thrice happy they<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That call on Hymen to requite 'em;</span><br />
+For, though love cools, the wedded fools<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must cleave 'till death doth disunite 'em!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE IV, 1.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+O Mother Venus, quit, I pray,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your violent assailing;</span><br />
+The arts, forsooth, that fired my youth<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At last are unavailing&mdash;</span><br />
+My blood runs cold&mdash;I'm getting old<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all my powers are failing!</span><br />
+<br />
+Speed thou upon thy white swan's wings<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And elsewhere deign to mellow</span><br />
+With my soft arts the anguished hearts<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of swain that writhe and bellow;</span><br />
+And right away, seek out, I pray,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Young Paullus&mdash;he's your fellow.</span><br />
+<br />
+You'll find young Paullus passing fate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Modest, refined, and toney&mdash;</span><br />
+Go, now, incite the favored wight!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Venus for a crony.</span><br />
+He'll outshine all at feast and ball<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And conversazione!</span><br />
+<br />
+Then shall that godlike nose of thine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With perfumes be requited,</span><br />
+And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> then shall prance in Salian dance<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The girls and boys delighted,</span><br />
+And, while the lute blends with the flute,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall tender loves be blighted.</span><br />
+<br />
+But as for me&mdash;as you can see&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm getting old and spiteful;</span><br />
+I have no mind to female kind<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That once I deemed delightful&mdash;</span><br />
+No more brim up the festive cup<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That sent me home at night full.</span><br />
+<br />
+Why do I falter in my speech,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O cruel Ligurine?</span><br />
+Why do I chase from place to place<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In weather wet and shiny?</span><br />
+Why down my nose forever flows<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tear that's cold and briny?</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE TO HIS PATRON.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Mæcenas, you're of noble line&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Of which the proof convincing</span><br />
+Is that you buy me all my wine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without so much as wincing.)</span><br />
+<br />
+To different men of different minds<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come different kinds of pleasure;</span><br />
+There's Marshall Field&mdash;what joy he finds<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In shears and cloth-yard measure!</span><br />
+<br />
+With joy Prof. Swing is filled<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While preaching godly sermons;</span><br />
+With bliss is Hobart Taylor thrilled<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he is leading germans.</span><br />
+<br />
+While Uncle Joe Medill prefers<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To run a daily paper,</span><br />
+To Walter Gresham it occurs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That law's the proper caper.</span><br />
+<br />
+With comedy a winning card,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How blithe is Richard Hooley;</span><br />
+Per contra, making soap and lard,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rejoices Fairbank duly.</span><br />
+<br />
+While<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> Armour in the sugar ham<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His summum bonum reaches,</span><br />
+MacVeagh's as happy as a clam<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In canning pears and peaches.</span><br />
+<br />
+Let Farwell glory in the fray<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which party hate increases&mdash;</span><br />
+His son-in-law delights to play<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gavottes and such like pieces.</span><br />
+<br />
+So each betakes him to his task&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So each his hobby nurses&mdash;</span><br />
+While I&mdash;well, all the boon I ask<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is leave to write my verses.</span><br />
+<br />
+Give, give that precious boon to me<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I shall envy no man;</span><br />
+If not the noblest I shall be<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At least the happiest Roman!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE "ARS POETICA" OF HORACE&mdash;XVIII.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(Lines 323-333.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+The Greeks had genius&mdash;'twas a gift<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Muse vouchsafed in glorious measure;</span><br />
+The boon of Fame they made their aim<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And prized above all worldly treasure.</span><br />
+<br />
+But <i>we</i>&mdash;how do we train <i>our</i> youth?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Not</i> in the arts that are immortal,</span><br />
+But in the greed for gains that speed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From him who stands at Death's dark portal.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ah, when this slavish love of gold<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Once binds the soul in greasy fetters,</span><br />
+How prostrate lies&mdash;how droops and dies<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The great, the noble cause of letters!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 34.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+I have not worshiped God, my King&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Folly has led my heart astray;</span><br />
+Backward I turn my course to learn<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wisdom of a wiser way.</span><br />
+<br />
+How marvelous is God, the King!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How do His lightnings cleave the sky&mdash;</span><br />
+His thundering car spreads fear afar,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And even hell is quaked thereby!</span><br />
+<br />
+Omnipotent is God, our King!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There is no thought He hath not read,</span><br />
+And many a crown His hand plucks down<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To place it on a worthier head!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 33.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Not to lament that rival flame<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wherewith the heartless Glycera scorns you,</span><br />
+Nor waste your time in maudlin rhyme,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How many a modern instance warns you.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fair-browed Lycoris pines away<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because her Cyrus loves another;</span><br />
+The ruthless churl informs the girl<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He loves her only as a brother.</span><br />
+<br />
+For he, in turn, courts Pholoe&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A maid unscotched of love's fierce virus&mdash;</span><br />
+Why, goats will mate with wolves they hate<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ere Pholoe will mate with Cyrus!</span><br />
+<br />
+Ah, weak and hapless human hearts&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By cruel Mother Venus fated</span><br />
+To spend this life in hopeless strife,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because incongruously mated!</span><br />
+<br />
+Such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> torture, Albius, is my lot;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For, though a better mistress wooed me,</span><br />
+My Myrtale has captured me<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with her cruelties subdued me!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE "ARS POETICA" OF HORACE&mdash;I.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">(Lines 1-23.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Should painters attach to a fair human head<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The thick, turgid neck of a stallion,</span><br />
+Or depict a spruce lass with the tail of a bass&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am sure you would guy the rapscallion!</span><br />
+<br />
+Believe me, dear Pisos, that such a freak<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the crude and preposterous poem</span><br />
+Which merely abounds in a torrent of sounds<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With no depth of reason below 'em.</span><br />
+<br />
+'Tis all very well to give license to art&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wisdom of license defend I;</span><br />
+But the line should be drawn at the fripperish sprawn<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of a mere cacoethes scribendi.</span><br />
+<br />
+It is too much the fashion to strain at effects&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yes, that's what's the matter with Hannah!</span><br />
+Our popular taste by the tyros debased<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Paints each barnyard a grove of Diana!</span><br />
+<br />
+Should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> a patron require you to paint a marine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would you work in some trees with their barks on?</span><br />
+When his strict orders are for a Japanese jar,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would you give him a pitcher like Clarkson?</span><br />
+<br />
+Now this is my moral: Compose what you may,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fame will be ever far distant,</span><br />
+Unless you combine with a simple design<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A treatment in toto consistent.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE GREAT JOURNALIST IN SPAIN.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Good Editor Dana&mdash;God bless him, we say!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will soon be afloat on the main,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Will be steaming away</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Through the mist and the spray</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the sensuous climate of Spain.</span><br />
+<br />
+Strange sights shall he see in that beautiful land<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which is famed for its soap and Moor,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For, as we understand,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The scenery is grand,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though the system of railway is poor.</span><br />
+<br />
+For moonlight of silver and sunlight of gold<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Glint the orchards of lemons and mangoes,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the ladies, we're told,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Are a joy to behold</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As they twine in their lissome fandangoes.</span><br />
+<br />
+What though our friend Dana shall twang a guitar<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And murmur a passionate strain&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Oh, fairer by far</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Than these ravishments are</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The castles abounding in Spain!</span><br />
+<br />
+These<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> castles are built as the builder may list&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They are sometimes of marble or stone,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But they mostly consist</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of east wind and mist</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With an ivy of froth overgrown.</span><br />
+<br />
+A beautiful castle our Dana shall raise<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On a futile foundation of hope,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And its glories shall blaze</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In the somnolent haze</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the mythical lake del y Soap.</span><br />
+<br />
+The fragrance of sunflowers shall swoon on the air,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the visions of dreamland obtain,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the song of "World's Fair"</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Shall be heard everywhere</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through that beautiful castle in Spain.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">REID, THE CANDIDATE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+I saw a brave compositor<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Go hustling o'er the mead,</span><br />
+Who bore a banner with these words:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Hurrah for Whitelaw Reid!"</span><br />
+<br />
+"Where go you, brother slug," I asked,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"With such unusual speed?"</span><br />
+He quoth: "I go to dump my vote<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For gallant Whitelaw Reid!"</span><br />
+<br />
+"But what has Whitelaw done," I asked,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"That now he should succeed?"</span><br />
+Said he: "The stanchest, truest friend<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We have is Whitelaw Reid!</span><br />
+<br />
+"There are no terms we can suggest<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That he will not concede;</span><br />
+He is converted to our faith,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is gallant Whitelaw Reid!</span><br />
+<br />
+"The union it must be preserved&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That is this convert's creed,</span><br />
+And that is why we're whooping up<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cause of Whitelaw Reid!"</span><br />
+<br />
+"If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> what you say of him be sooth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You have a friend indeed,</span><br />
+So go on your winding way," quoth I,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And whoop for Whitelaw Reid!"</span><br />
+<br />
+So on unto the polls I saw<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That printer straight proceed</span><br />
+While other printers swarmed in swarms<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To vote for Whitelaw Reid.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">A VALENTINE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Four little sisters standing in a row&mdash;<br />
+Which of them I love best I really do not know.<br />
+Sometimes it is the sister dressed out so fine in blue,<br />
+And sometimes she who flaunts the beauteous robe of emerald hue;<br />
+Sometimes for her who wears the brown my tender heart has bled,<br />
+And then again I am consumed of love for her in red.<br />
+So now I think I'll send this valentine unto the four&mdash;<br />
+I love them all so very much&mdash;how could a man do more?</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">KISSING-TIME.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+'Tis when the lark goes soaring,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the bee is at the bud,</span><br />
+When lightly dancing zephyrs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing over field and flood;</span><br />
+When all sweet things in Nature<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seem joyfully a-chime&mdash;</span><br />
+'Tis then I wake my darling,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For it is kissing-time!</span><br />
+<br />
+Go, pretty lark, a-soaring,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And suck your sweets, O bee;</span><br />
+Sing, O ye winds of summer,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your songs to mine and me.</span><br />
+For with your song and rapture<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cometh the moment when</span><br />
+It is half-past kissing-time<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And time to kiss again!</span><br />
+<br />
+So&mdash;so the days go fleeting<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like golden fancies free,</span><br />
+And every day that cometh<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is full of sweets for me;</span><br />
+And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> sweetest are those moments<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My darling comes to climb</span><br />
+Into my lap to mind me<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That it is kissing-time.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sometimes, may be, he wanders<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A heedless, aimless way&mdash;</span><br />
+Sometimes, may be, he loiters<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In pretty, prattling play;</span><br />
+But presently bethinks him<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hastens to me then,</span><br />
+For it's half-past kissing time<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And time to kiss again!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE FIFTH OF JULY.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+The sun climbs up, but still the tyrant Sleep<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Holds fast our baby boy in his embrace;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The slumb'rer sighs, anon athwart his face</span><br />
+Faint, half-suggested frowns like shadows creep,<br />
+One little hand lies listless on his breast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One little thumb sticks up with mute appeal,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While motley burns and powder marks reveal</span><br />
+The fruits of boyhood's patriotic zest.<br />
+<br />
+Our baby's faithful poodle crouches near&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He, too, is weary of the din and play</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That come with glorious Independence Day,</span><br />
+But which, thank God! come only once a year!<br />
+And Fido, too, has suffered in this cause,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which once a year right noisily obtains,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Fido's tail&mdash;or what thereof remains&mdash;</span><br />
+Is not so fair a sight as once it was.</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">PICNIC-TIME.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+It's June agin, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy<br />
+That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;<br />
+For, every June, the Sunday schools at picnics may be seen,<br />
+Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green."<br />
+Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs an' ants,<br />
+An' little boys get grass-stains on their go-to-meetin' pants.<br />
+It's June agin, an' with it all what happiness is mine&mdash;<br />
+There's goin' to be a picnic an' I'm goin' to jine!<br />
+<br />
+One year I jined the Baptists, an' goodness! how it rained!<br />
+(But grampa says that that's the way "Baptizo" is explained.)<br />
+And once I jined the 'piscopils an' had a heap o' fun&mdash;<br />
+But the boss of all the picnics was the Presbyterium!<br />
+They had so many puddin's, sallids, sandwidges an' pies,<br />
+That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyes!<br />
+Oh, yes, the eatin' Presbyteriums give yer is so fine<br />
+That when <i>they</i> have a picnic, you bet <i>I'm</i> goin' to jine!<br />
+<br />
+But at this time the Methodists have special claims on me,<br />
+For they're goin' to give a picnic on the 21st, D. V.;<br />
+Why should a liberal Universalist like me object<br />
+To share the joys of fellowship with every friendly sect?<br />
+However het'rodox their articles of faith elsewise may be,<br />
+Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin' grace to me!<br />
+So on the 21st of June, the weather bein' fine,<br />
+They're goin' to give a picnic, and I'm goin' to jine!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE ROMANCE OF A WATCH.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+One day his father said to John:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Come here and see what I hev bought&mdash;-</span><br />
+A Waterbury watch, my son&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It is the boon you long hev sought!"</span><br />
+<br />
+The boy could scarcely believe his eyes&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The watch was shiny, smooth an' slick&mdash;</span><br />
+He snatched the nickel-plated prize<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' wound away to hear it tick.</span><br />
+<br />
+He wound an' wound, an' wound an' wound,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' kept a windin' fit to kill&mdash;</span><br />
+The weeks an' months an' years rolled round,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But John he kep' a windin', still!</span><br />
+<br />
+As autumns came an' winters went<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' summers follered arter spring,</span><br />
+John didn't mind&mdash;he was intent<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On windin' up that darned ol' thing.</span><br />
+<br />
+He got to be a poor ol' man&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's bald an' deaf an' blind an' lame,</span><br />
+But, like he did when he began,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He keeps on windin', jest the same!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">OUR BABY.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+'Tis very strange, but quite as true,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That when our Baby smiles</span><br />
+Our club gets walloped black and blue<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In all the latest styles;</span><br />
+But when our Baby's hopping mad<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It's quite the other way&mdash;</span><br />
+Chicago beats the Yankees bad<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Baby doesn't play.</span><br />
+<br />
+When baby stands upon his base,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just after having kicked,</span><br />
+Upon his Scandinavian face<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Appears the legend, "Licked";</span><br />
+But when he orders out a sub,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We well may hip-hooray&mdash;</span><br />
+Chicago has the winning club<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Baby doesn't play.</span><br />
+<br />
+But, if our Baby's getting old,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And stiff, and cross, and vain,</span><br />
+And if his days are nearly told,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, let us not complain.</span><br />
+Let's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> rather think of what he was<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And how he's made it pay</span><br />
+To hire the kids that win because<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our Baby doesn't play.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE COLOR THAT SUITS ME BEST.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Any color&mdash;so long as it's red&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the color that suits me best,</span><br />
+Though I will allow there is much to be said<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For yellow and green and the rest;</span><br />
+But the feeble tints, which some affect<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the things they make or buy,</span><br />
+Have never (I say it with all respect)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Appealed to my critical eye.</span><br />
+<br />
+There's that in red that warmeth the blood<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And quickeneth a man within,</span><br />
+And bringeth to speedy and perfect bud<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The germs of original sin;</span><br />
+So, though I am properly born and bred,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll own, with a certain zest,</span><br />
+That any color&mdash;so long as it's red&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the color that suits me best!</span><br />
+<br />
+For where is a color that can be compared<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the blush of a buxom lass&mdash;</span><br />
+Or where such warmth as of the hair<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the genuine white horse class?</span><br />
+And,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> lo, reflected in this cup<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of cherry Bordeaux I see</span><br />
+What inspiration girdeth me up&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yes, red is the color for me!</span><br />
+<br />
+Through acres and acres of art I've strayed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Italy, Germany, France;</span><br />
+On many a picture a master has made<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've squandered a passing glance;</span><br />
+Marines I hate, madonnas and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those Dutch freaks I detest!</span><br />
+But the peerless daubs of my native land&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They're red, and I like them best!</span><br />
+<br />
+'Tis little I care how folks deride&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm backed by the west, at least,</span><br />
+And we are free to say that we can't abide<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tastes that obtain down east;</span><br />
+And we are mighty proud to have it said<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That here in the critical west,</span><br />
+Most any color&mdash;so long as it's red&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the color that suits us best!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HOW TO "FILL."</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>It is understood that our esteemed Col. Franc B. Wilkie is going to
+formulate a reply to Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox's latest poem, which
+begins as follows:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+"I hold it as a changeless law<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From which no soul can sway or swerve,</span><br />
+We have that in us which will draw<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whate'er we need or most deserve."</span></td></tr></table>
+
+<p>We fancy the genial colonel will start off with some such quatrain as
+this:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+"I fain would have your recipe,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you'll but give the snap away;</span><br />
+Now when four clubs are dealt to me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How may I draw another, pray?"</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">POLITICS IN 1888.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>The Cleveland Leader must be getting ready for the campaign of 1888. We
+find upon its editorial page quite a pretentious poem, entitled "Alpha
+and Omega," and here is a sample stanza:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+"Whose name will stand for coming time<br />
+As hypocrites in prose and rhyme,<br />
+And be despised in every clime?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">The Mugwumps."</span></td></tr></table>
+
+<p>Well, may be so, but may we be permitted to add a stanza which seems to
+us to be very pertinent just now?</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+And who next year, we'd like to know,<br />
+Will feed the Cleveland Leader crow,<br />
+Just as they did three years ago?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">The Mugwumps.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE BASEBALL SCORE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+A boy came racing down the street<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a most tumultuous way,</span><br />
+And he hollered at all he chanced to meet:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Hooray, hooray, hooray!"</span><br />
+His eyes and his breath were hot with joy<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his cheeks were all aflame&mdash;</span><br />
+'Twas a rare event with the little boy<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the champions won a game!</span><br />
+<br />
+"Twenty to 6" and "10 to 2"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were rather dismal scores,</span><br />
+And they wreathed in a somewhat somber hue<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These classic western shores;</span><br />
+We shuddered and winced at the cruel sport<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And our heads were bowed in shame</span><br />
+'Till Somewhere sent us the glad report<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the champions won the game!</span><br />
+<br />
+Our Baby says it'll be all right<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the champions by and by,</span><br />
+And the twin emotions of Hope and Fright<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gleam in his cod fish eye;</span><br />
+And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> Spalding says (in his modest way)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That we'll get there all the same;</span><br />
+So let us holler, "Hooray, hooray,"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the champions win the game.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">CHICAGO NEWSPAPER LIFE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>It pleases us to observe that the shocking habit of hurling opprobrious
+epithets at each other has been abandoned by the venerable editor of the
+Journal and the venerable editor of the Tribune. At this moment we are
+reminded of the inspired lines of the eminent but now, alas! neglected
+Watts:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+"Birds in their nests agree,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And 'tis a shocking sight</span><br />
+When folks, who should harmonious be,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fall out and chide and fight.</span><br />
+<br />
+"The tones of Andy and of Joe<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should join in friendly games&mdash;</span><br />
+Not be debased to vice so low<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As that of calling names.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Bad names and naughty names require<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be chastized at school,</span><br />
+But he's in danger of hell-fire<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who talks of 'crank' and 'fool.'</span><br />
+<br />
+"Oh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> 'tis a dreadful thing to see<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The old folks smite and jaw,</span><br />
+But pleasant it is to agree<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the election law.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Let Joe and Andy leave their wrongs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For sinners to contest;</span><br />
+So shall they some time swell the songs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Israel's ransomed blest."</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE MIGHTY WEST.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Oh, where abides the fond kazoo,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The barrel-organ fair,</span><br />
+And where is heard the tra-la-loo<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of fish horns on the air?</span><br />
+And where are found the fife and drum<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Discoursed with goodliest zest?</span><br />
+And where do fiddles liveliest hum?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The west&mdash;the mighty west!</span><br />
+<br />
+Sonatas, fugues, and all o' that<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are rightly judged effete,</span><br />
+While largos written in B-flat<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are clearly out of date;</span><br />
+Some like the cold pianny-forty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But whistling suits us best&mdash;</span><br />
+And op'ry, if it isn't naughty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will not catch on out west.</span><br />
+<br />
+From skinning hogs or canning beef<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or diving into stocks,</span><br />
+Could we expect to find relief<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Haydns or in Bachs?</span><br />
+Ah,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> no; from pork and wheat and lard<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We turn aside with zest</span><br />
+To sing some opus of some bard<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose home is in the west.</span><br />
+<br />
+So get ye gone, ye weakling crew!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your tunes are stale and flat,</span><br />
+And cannot hold a candle to<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The works of Silas Pratt!</span><br />
+His opuses are in demand<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And are the final test</span><br />
+By which all others fall or stand<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In this the mighty west!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">APRIL.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Now April with sweet showers of freshening rain<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has roused last summer's vigorous breath once more;</span><br />
+'Tis in the air, the house, the street, the lane&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Puffs through the walls and oozes through the floor.</span><br />
+<br />
+The rau-cous-throated frog ayont the sty<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sends forth, as erst, his amerous vermal croak,</span><br />
+Each hungry mooly casts her swivel eye<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For pots and pails in which her nose to poke.</span><br />
+<br />
+With gurgling glee the gutter gushes by,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fraught all with filth, unknown and nameless dirt&mdash;</span><br />
+A dead green goose, an o'er-ripe rat I spy;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Head of a cat, tail of a flannel shirt.</span><br />
+<br />
+The querulous cry of every gabbling goose<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From thousand-scented mudholes echoes o'er;</span><br />
+The dogs and yawling cats have gotten loose<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mock the hideous howls of hell once more.</span><br />
+<br />
+By<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> yon scrub oak, where roots the sallow sow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In where John Murphy's wife outpours her slop;</span><br />
+Right there you'll find there's almost stench now<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To cause the world its nostrils to estop.</span><br />
+<br />
+And yonder dauntless goat that bank adown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That wreathes his old fantastic horns so high,</span><br />
+Gnaws sadly on the bustle of Miss Brown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which she discarded in the months gone by.</span><br />
+<br />
+So in Goose Island cometh April round;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Full eagerly we watch the month's approach&mdash;</span><br />
+The season of sweet sight and pleasant sound,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The season of the bedbug and the roach.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">REPORT OF THE BASEBALL GAME.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+It was a very pleasant game,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there was naught of grumbling</span><br />
+Until the baleful tidings came<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That Williamson was "fumbling."</span><br />
+Then all at once a hideous gloom<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fell o'er all manly features,</span><br />
+And Clayton's cozy, quiet room<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was full of frantic creatures.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Click, click," the tiny ticker went,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tape began to rattle,</span><br />
+And pallid, eager faces bent<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To read the news from battle;</span><br />
+Down, down, ten million feet or more,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chicago's hope went tumbling,</span><br />
+When came the word that Burns and Gore<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Pfeffer, too, were "fumbling."</span><br />
+<br />
+No diagram was needed then<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To point the Browns to glory&mdash;</span><br />
+The simple fact that these four men<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were "fumbling" told the story.</span><br />
+There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> is not a club in all the land&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No odds how weak or humble&mdash;</span><br />
+That beats us when our short-stop and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our second baseman "fumble."</span><br />
+<br />
+There was some talk of hippodrome<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Mid frequent calls for liquor,</span><br />
+Then each Chicago man went home<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Much wiser, poorer, sicker;</span><br />
+And many a giant intellect<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seemed slowly, surely crumbling</span><br />
+Beneath the dolorous effect<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of that St. Louis "fumbling."</span><br />
+<br />
+Ah, well, the struggle's but just begun,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So what is the use of fretting</span><br />
+If by a little harmless fun<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our boys can bull the betting?</span><br />
+When comes the tug of war there'll be<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No accidental stumbling,</span><br />
+And then, you bet your boots, you'll see<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No mention made of "fumbling."</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE ROSE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Since the days of old Adam the welkin has rung<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the praises of sweet scented posies,</span><br />
+And poets in rapturous phrases have sung<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The paramount beauties of roses.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wheresoever she bides, whether nestling in lanes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or gracing the proud urban bowers,</span><br />
+The red, royal rose her distinction maintains<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the one regnant queen among flowers.</span><br />
+<br />
+How joyous are we of the west when we find<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That Fate, with her gifts ever chary,</span><br />
+Has decreed that the Rose, who is queen of her kind<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall bloom on our wild western prairie.</span><br />
+<br />
+Let us laugh at the east as an impotent thing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With envy and jealously crazy,</span><br />
+While grateful Chicago is happy to sing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the praise of the rose&mdash;she's a daisy.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">KANSAS CITY VS. DETROIT.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+A rooster flapped his wings and crowed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A merrysome cockadoodledoo,</span><br />
+As out of the west a cowboy rode<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the land where the peach and the clapboard grew,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Humming a gentle tralalaloo.</span><br />
+<br />
+"O insect with the gilded wing,"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cowboy cried, "Pray tell me true</span><br />
+Why do you crane your neck and sing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That wearisome cockadoodledoo?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would you like to learn the tralalaloo?"</span><br />
+<br />
+Now the rooster squawked an impudent word<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereat the angered cowboy threw</span><br />
+His lariat at the haughty bird<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And choked him until his gills were blue</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his eyes hung out an inch or two.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Now hear <i>me</i> sing," the cowboy cried;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"It ain't no cockadoodledoo&mdash;</span><br />
+It's a song we sing on the prairies wide&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The simple song of tralalaloo,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which is cowboy slang for 12 to 2."</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">ME AND BILKAMMLE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I will, if you choose,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Impart you some news</span><br />
+That will greatly astound you, I know;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">You would never suspect</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My ambition was wreck'd</span><br />
+'Till you heard my confession of woe.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Tis not that my boom</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Has ascended the flume&mdash;</span><br />
+In other words, gone up the spout&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I could smile a sweet smile</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">This tempestuous while,</span><br />
+But me and Bilkammle are out!<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Being timid and shrinkin',</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He did all the thinkin',</span><br />
+When <i>I</i> did the talkin' worth mention;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Twas my constant ambition</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To soar to position</span><br />
+So I gave it exclusive attention;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And supposin' that he</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Would of course be for me,</span><br />
+I rambled and prattled about<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Till I found to my horror,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Vexation, and sorror,</span><br />
+That me and Bilkammle were out.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> I tore my red hair</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In a fit of despair</span><br />
+I heard my Achates complain<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That the gent with the coffer</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Had nothing to offer</span><br />
+In the way of relieving his pain!<br /></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 3em;">*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 3em;">If there's mortal to blame</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For this villainous game</span><br />
+Which has snuffed a great man beyond doubt.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">It's that treacherous mammal</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Entitled Bilkammle&mdash;</span><br />
+Which accounts for us two bein' out!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">TO THE DETROIT BASEBALL CLUB.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+You've scooped the vealy city crowd<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of glory and of purse&mdash;</span><br />
+Why shouldn't Pegasus be proud<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To trot you out in a verse?</span><br />
+Chicago hoped to wallop you<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By a tremendous score,</span><br />
+But bit off more than it could chew,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As witness: "5 to 4."</span><br />
+<br />
+Well done, you 'Ganders! here's a hand<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To every one of you;</span><br />
+These record-breakers of the land<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now break themselves in two.</span><br />
+Well get their pennant&mdash;it shall float<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon our distant shore,</span><br />
+So let each patriotic throat<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hurrah for "5 to 4."</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">A BALLAD OF ANCIENT OATHS.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Ther ben a knyght, Sir Hoten hight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That on a time did swere</span><br />
+In mighty store othes mickle sore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whiche grieved his wiffe to here.</span><br />
+<br />
+Soth, whenne she scoft, his wiffe did oft<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swere as a lady may;</span><br />
+"I'faith," "I'sooth," or "lawk" in truth<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ben alle that wiffe wold say.</span><br />
+<br />
+Soe whenne her good man waxed him wood<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She mervailed much to here</span><br />
+The hejeous sound of othes full round<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The which her lord did swere.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Now, pray thee, speke and tell me eke<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What thing hath vexed thee soe?"</span><br />
+The wiffe she cried; but he replied<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By swereing moe and moe.</span><br />
+<br />
+Her sweren zounds which be Gog's wounds,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By bricht Marie and Gis,</span><br />
+By sweit Sanct Ann and holie Tan<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by Bryde's bell, ywis.</span><br />
+<br />
+By<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> holie grails, by 'slids and 'snails,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By old Sanct Dunstan bauld,</span><br />
+The virgin faire that him did beare,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By him that Judas sauld;</span><br />
+<br />
+By Arthure's sword, by Paynim horde,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By holie modyr's teir,</span><br />
+By Cokis breath, by Zooks and 's death,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by Sanct Swithen deir;</span><br />
+<br />
+By divells alle, both greate and smalle,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in hell there be,</span><br />
+By bread and salt, and by Gog's malt,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by the blody tree;</span><br />
+<br />
+By Him that worn the crown of thorn<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by the sun and mone,</span><br />
+By deir Sanct Blanc and Sanct Fillane,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And three kings of Cologne;</span><br />
+<br />
+By the gude Lord and His sweit word,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By him that herryit hell,</span><br />
+By blessed Jude, by holie rude,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And eke be Gad himsell!</span><br />
+<br />
+He sweren soe (and mickle moe)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It made man's flesch to creepen,</span><br />
+The air ben blue with his ado<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sore his wiffe ben wepen.</span><br />
+<br />
+Giff<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> you wold know why sweren soe<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The goodman high Sir Hoten,</span><br />
+He ben full wroth, because, in soth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He leesed his coler boten.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">AN OLD SONG REVISED.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+John Hamilton, my Jo John,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When first we were acquaint</span><br />
+You were as lavish as could be<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With your vermillion paint;</span><br />
+But now the head that once was red<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seems veiled in sable woe,</span><br />
+And clouds of gloom obscure your boom,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Hamilton, my Jo.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh, was it Campbell's hatchet wrought<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The ruin we deplore?</span><br />
+Or was it Abnor Taylor's thirst<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For your abundant gore?</span><br />
+Or was it Hank's ambitious pranks<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That laid our idol low?</span><br />
+Come, let us know how came you so,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Hamilton, my Joe!</span><br />
+<br />
+We pine to know the awful truth.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So, pray, be pleased to tell</span><br />
+The story&mdash;full of tragic fire&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How one great statesman fell;</span><br />
+How<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> dives' hand stalked in the land<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dealt a crushing blow</span><br />
+At one proud name&mdash;which you're the same,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Hamilton, my Jo!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE GRATEFUL PATIENT.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+The doctor leaned tenderly over the bed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And looked at the patient 's complexion,</span><br />
+And felt of the pulse and the feverish head,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then stood for a time in reflection.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"A strange complication!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My recommendation</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is morphia by hypodermic injection."</span><br />
+<br />
+The patient looked up with a leer in his eye<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And winked in the doctor's direction&mdash;</span><br />
+"Well, Doc," he remarked, "since you say I must die,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm grateful to you for protection&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I'm now in position</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To ask the commission</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">T' excuse me from serving as judge of election."</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE BEGINNING AND THE END.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Death<br />
+In my breath,<br />
+Cried I then:<br />
+"Men<br />
+Burn and blight!<br />
+Nourish crime!<br />
+Scale the height!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Climb, men, climb!</span><br />
+Climb and fight!<br />
+Win by might!<br />
+Wrong or right!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blood!"</span><br />
+<br />
+Well<br />
+In a cell<br />
+Here I am&mdash;<br />
+D&mdash;&mdash;n!<br />
+From my flight<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So sublime</span><br />
+I alight<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ere my time,</span><br />
+And in fright<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here I grope</span><br />
+Through the night<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> hope.</span><br />
+What a plight!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah, the rope!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thud!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">CLARE MARKET.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+In the market of Clare, so cheery the glare<br />
+Of the shops and the booths of the tradespeople there,<br />
+That I take a delight, on a Saturday night,<br />
+In walking that way and viewing the sight;<br />
+For it's here that one sees all the objects that please&mdash;<br />
+New patterns in silk and old patterns in cheese,<br />
+For the girls pretty toys, rude alarums for boys,<br />
+And baubles galore which discretion enjoys&mdash;<br />
+But here I forbear, for I really despair<br />
+Of naming the wealth of the market of Clare!<br />
+<br />
+The rich man comes down from the elegant town,<br />
+And looks at it all with an ominous frown;<br />
+He seems to despise the grandiloquent cries<br />
+Of the vender proclaiming his puddings and pies;<br />
+And sniffing he goes through the lanes that disclose<br />
+Much cause for disgust to his sensitive nose;<br />
+Once free from the crowd, he admits that he is proud<br />
+That elsewhere in London this thing's not allowed&mdash;<br />
+He has seen nothing there but filth everywhere,<br />
+And he's glad to get out of the market of Clare.<br />
+<br />
+But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> the child that has come from the neighboring slum<br />
+Is charmed by the magic of dazzle and hum;<br />
+He feasts his big eyes on the cakes and pies<br />
+And they seem to grow green and protrude with surprise<br />
+At the goodies they vend and the toys without end&mdash;<br />
+And it's oh if he had but a penny to spend!<br />
+But alas! he must gaze in a hopeless amaze<br />
+At treasures that glitter and torches that blaze&mdash;<br />
+What sense of despair in this world can compare<br />
+With that of the waif in the market of Clare?<br />
+<br />
+So, on Saturday nights, when my custom invites<br />
+A stroll in old London for curious sights,<br />
+I am likely to stray by a devious way<br />
+Where goodies are spread in a motley array,<br />
+The things which some eyes would appear to despise<br />
+Impress me as pathos in homely disguise,<br />
+And my tattered waif friend shall have pennies to spend,<br />
+As long as I've got 'em (or friends that will lend);<br />
+And the urchin shall share in my joy and declare<br />
+That there's beauty and good in that marketplace there!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">UNCLE EPHRAIM.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+My Uncle Ephraim was a man who did not live in vain,<br />
+And yet, why he succeeded so I never <i>could</i> explain;<br />
+By nature he was not endowed with wit to a degree,<br />
+But folks allowed there nowhere lived a better man than he;<br />
+He started poor but soon got rich; he went to congress then,<br />
+And held that post of honor long against much brainier men;<br />
+He never made a famous speech or did a thing of note,<br />
+And yet the praise of Uncle Eph welled up from every throat.<br />
+<br />
+I recollect I never heard him say a bitter word;<br />
+He never carried to and fro unpleasant things he heard;<br />
+He always doffed his hat and spoke to every one he knew,<br />
+He tipped to poor and rich alike a genial "how-dy'-do";<br />
+He kissed the babies, praised their looks, and said: "That child will grow<br />
+To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> be a Daniel Webster or our president, I know!"<br />
+His voice was so mellifluous, his smile so full of mirth,<br />
+That folks declared he was the best and smartest man on earth!<br />
+<br />
+Now, father was a <i>smarter</i> man, and yet he never won<br />
+Such wealth and fame as Uncle Eph, "the deestrick's favorite son";<br />
+He had "convictions" and he was not loath to speak his mind&mdash;<br />
+He went his way and said his say as he might be inclined;<br />
+Yes, <i>he</i> was brainy; yet his life was hardly a success&mdash;<br />
+He was too honest and too smart for this vain world, I guess!<br />
+At any rate, I wondered he was unsuccessful when<br />
+My Uncle Eph, a duller man, was so revered of men!<br />
+<br />
+When Uncle Eph was dying he called me to his bed,<br />
+And in a tone of confidence inviolate he said:<br />
+"Dear Willyum, ere I seek repose in yonder blissful sphere<br />
+I fain would breathe a secret in your adolescent ear;<br />
+Strive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> not to hew your way through life&mdash;it really doesn't pay;<br />
+Be sure the salve of flattery soaps all you do and say!<br />
+Herein the only royal road to fame and fortune lies;<br />
+Put not your trust in vinegar&mdash;<i>molasses</i> catches flies!"</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THIRTY-NINE.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+O hapless day! O wretched day!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I hoped you'd pass me by&mdash;</span><br />
+Alas, the years have sneaked away<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all is changed but I!</span><br />
+Had I the power, I would remand<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You to a gloom condign,</span><br />
+But here you've crept upon me and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&mdash;I am thirty-nine!</span><br />
+<br />
+Now, were I thirty-five, I could<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Assume a flippant guise,</span><br />
+Or, were I forty years, I should<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Undoubtedly look wise;</span><br />
+For forty years are said to bring<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sedateness superfine,</span><br />
+But thirty-nine don't mean a thing&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>A bas</i> with thirty-nine!</span><br />
+<br />
+You healthy, hulking girls and boys&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What makes you grow so fast?</span><br />
+Oh, I'll survive your lusty noise&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm tough and bound to last!</span><br />
+No,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> no&mdash;I'm old and withered, too&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I feel my powers decline.</span><br />
+(Yet none believes this can be true<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of one at thirty-nine.)</span><br />
+<br />
+And you, dear girl with velvet eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I wonder what you mean</span><br />
+Through all our keen anxieties<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By keeping sweet sixteen.</span><br />
+With your dear love to warm my heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wretch were I to repine&mdash;</span><br />
+I was but jesting at the start&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm glad I'm thirty-nine!</span><br />
+<br />
+So, little children, roar and race<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As blithely as you can</span><br />
+And, sweetheart, let your tender grace<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Exalt the Day and Man;</span><br />
+For then these factors (I'll engage)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All subtly shall combine</span><br />
+To make both juvenile and sage<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The one who's thirty-nine!</span><br />
+<br />
+Yes, after all, I'm free to say<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That I rejoice to be</span><br />
+Standing as I do stand to-day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twixt devil and deep sea;</span><br />
+For,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> though my face be dark with care<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or with a grimace shine,</span><br />
+Each haply falls unto my share;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since I am thirty-nine!</span><br />
+<br />
+'Tis passing meet to make good cheer<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lord it like a king,</span><br />
+Since only once we catch the year<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That doesn't mean a thing.</span><br />
+O happy day! O gracious day!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I pledge thee in this wine&mdash;</span><br />
+Come let us journey on our way<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A year, good Thirty-Nine!</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 18.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O Varus mine</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Plant thou the vine</span><br />
+Within this kindly soil of Tibur;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nor temporal woes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nor spiritual knows</span><br />
+The man who's a discreet imbiber.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For who doth croak</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of being broke</span><br />
+Or who of warfare, after drinking?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With bowl atween us,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of smiling Venus</span><br />
+And Bacchus shall we sing, I'm thinking.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of symptoms fell</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Which brawls impel</span><br />
+Historic data give us warning;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The wretch who fights</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When full of nights</span><br />
+Is bound to have a head next morning.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I do not scorn</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A friendly horn,</span><br />
+But noisy toots&mdash;I can't abide 'em!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Your howling bat</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is stale and flat</span><br />
+To one who knows, because he's tried 'em!<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> secrets of</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The life of love</span><br />
+(Companionship with girls and toddy)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I would not drag</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With drunken brag</span><br />
+Into the ken of everybody,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But in the shade</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Let some coy maid</span><br />
+With smilax wreathe my flagon's nozzle&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then, all day long,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With mirth and song,</span><br />
+Shall I enjoy a quiet sozzle!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THREE RHINELAND DRINKING SONGS.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center">I.</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+If our life is the life of a flower<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(And that's what some sages are thinking),</span><br />
+We should moisten the bud with a health-giving flood<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And 'twill bloom all the sweeter&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yes, life's the completer</span><br />
+For drinking,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">and drinking,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 14em;">and drinking!</span><br />
+<br />
+If it be that our life is a journey<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(As many wise folks are opining),</span><br />
+We should sprinkle the way with the rain while we may;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Though dusty and dreary,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Tis made cool and cheery</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With wining,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">and wining,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 14em;">and wining!</span><br />
+<br />
+If this life that we live be a dreaming<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(As pessimist people are thinking),</span><br />
+To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> induce pleasant dreams there is nothing, me seems,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like this sweet prescription,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That baffles description&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This drinking,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">and drinking,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 14em;">and drinking!</span></td></tr></table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center">II.</p>
+
+<p class="center">("Fiducit.")</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Three comrades on the German Rhine&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Defying care and weather&mdash;</span><br />
+Together quaffed the mellow wine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sung their songs together,</span><br />
+What recked they of the griefs of life<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With wine and song to cheer them?</span><br />
+Though elsewhere trouble might be rife,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It would not come anear them!</span><br />
+<br />
+Anon one comrade passed away,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And presently another&mdash;</span><br />
+And yet unto the tryst each day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Repaired the lonely brother,</span><br />
+And still, as gayly as of old,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That third one, hero-hearted,</span><br />
+Filled to the brim each cup of gold<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And called to the departed:</span><br />
+<br />
+"O<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> comrades mine, I see you not,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor hear your kindly greeting;</span><br />
+Yet in this old familiar spot<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be still our loving meeting!</span><br />
+Here have I filled each bouting cup<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With juices red and cherry&mdash;</span><br />
+I pray ye drink the portion up,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, as of old, make merry!"</span><br />
+<br />
+And once before his tear-dimmed eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All in the haunted gloaming,</span><br />
+He saw two ghostly figures rise<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And quaff the beakers foaming;</span><br />
+He heard two spirit voices call:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Fiducit, jovial brother!"</span><br />
+And so forever from that hall<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went they with one another.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">III.</p>
+
+<p class="center">(Der Mann im Keller.)</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+How cool and fair this cellar where<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My throne a dusky cask is!</span><br />
+To do no thing but just to sing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And drown the time my task is!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The cooper, he's</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Resolved to please,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> answering to my winking,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He fills me up</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cup after cup</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For drinking, drinking, drinking.</span><br />
+<br />
+Begrudge me not this cozy spot<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In which I am reclining&mdash;</span><br />
+Why, who would burst with envious thirst<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he can live by wining?</span><br />
+A roseate hue seems to imbue<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The world on which I'm blinking;</span><br />
+My fellow men&mdash;I love them when<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm drinking, drinking, drinking.</span><br />
+<br />
+And yet, I think, the more I drink,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It's more and more I pine for&mdash;</span><br />
+Oh such as I (forever dry!)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God made this land of Rhine for!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And there is bliss</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In knowing this,</span><br />
+As to the floor I'm sinking;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I've wronged no man,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And never can,</span><br />
+While drinking, drinking, drinking!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE THREE TAILORS.</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="center">(From the German of C. Herlossohn.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time,<br />
+Three tailors tramped up to the Inn Ingleheim<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">On the Rhine&mdash;lovely Rhine;</span><br />
+They were broke, but, the worst of it all, they were curst<br />
+With that malady common to tailors&mdash;a thirst<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For wine&mdash;lots of wine!</span><br />
+<br />
+"Sweet host," quoth the three, "we're as hard up as can be,<br />
+Yet skilled in the practice of cunning are we<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">On the Rhine&mdash;genial Rhine;</span><br />
+And we pledge you we will impart you that skill<br />
+Right quickly and fully, providing you'll fill<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Us with wine&mdash;cooling wine!"</span><br />
+<br />
+But that host shook his head, and warily said:<br />
+"Though cunning be good, we take money instead,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">On the Rhine&mdash;thrifty Rhine;</span><br />
+If ye fancy ye may without pelf have your way<br />
+You'll find there's both host and the devil to pay<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For your wine&mdash;costly wine!"</span><br />
+<br />
+Then <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>the first knavish wight took his needle so bright<br />
+And threaded its eye with a wee ray of light<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">From the Rhine&mdash;sunny Rhine;</span><br />
+And in such a deft way patched a mirror that day<br />
+That where it was mended no expert could say&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Done so fine&mdash;'twas for wine!</span><br />
+<br />
+The second thereat spied a poor little gnat<br />
+Go toiling along on his nose broad and flat<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Toward the Rhine&mdash;pleasant Rhine;</span><br />
+"Aha, tiny friend, I should hate to offend,<br />
+But your stockings need darning," which same did he mend,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">All for wine&mdash;soothing wine!</span><br />
+<br />
+And next there occurred what you'll deem quite absurd&mdash;<br />
+His needle a space in the wall thrust the third,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By the Rhine&mdash;wondrous Rhine;</span><br />
+And then, all so spry, he leapt through the eye<br />
+Of that thin cambric needle; nay, think you I'd lie<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">About wine? Not for wine!</span><br />
+<br />
+The landlord allowed (with a smile) he was proud<br />
+To do the fair thing by that talented crowd<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">On the Rhine&mdash;generous Rhine!</span><br />
+So<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> a thimble filled he as full as could be;<br />
+"Drink long and drink hearty, my jolly guests three,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of my wine&mdash;filling wine!"</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">MORNING HYMN.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+I'd dearly love to tear my hair<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And romp around a bit,</span><br />
+For I am mad enough to swear<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since Brother Chauncy quit.</span><br />
+<br />
+I am so vilely prone to sin&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vain ribald that I am&mdash;</span><br />
+I'd take a hideous pleasure in<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just one prodigious "damn."</span><br />
+<br />
+But shall I yield to Satan's wiles<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And let my passions swell?</span><br />
+Nay, I will wreath my face in smiles,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mock the powers of hell.</span><br />
+<br />
+And howsoever pride may roll<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its billows through my frame,</span><br />
+I'll not condemn my precious soul<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unto the quenchless flame!</span><br />
+<br />
+But rather will I humbly pray<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Divinity to wash</span><br />
+From out my mouth such words away<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As "Jiminy" and "Gosh."</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">DOCTORS.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+'Tis quite the thing to say and sing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gross libels on the doctor&mdash;</span><br />
+To picture him an ogre grim<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or humbug-pill concocter;</span><br />
+Yet it's in quite another light<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My friendly pen would show him&mdash;</span><br />
+Glad that it might with verse repay<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some part of what I owe him!</span><br />
+<br />
+When one's all right he's prone to spite<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The doctor's peaceful mission;</span><br />
+But, when he's sick, it's loud and quick<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He bawls for a physician!</span><br />
+With other things the doctor brings<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sweet babes our hearts to soften;</span><br />
+Though I have four, I pine for more&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good doctor, pray, come often!</span><br />
+<br />
+What though he sees death and disease<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Run riot all around him,</span><br />
+Patient and true, and valorous, too&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such have I always found him!</span><br />
+Where'er<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> he goes he soothes our woes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, when skill's unavailing</span><br />
+And death is near, his words of cheer<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Support our courage failing.</span><br />
+<br />
+In ancient days they used to praise<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The godlike art of healing;</span><br />
+An art that then engaged all men<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Possessed of sense and feeling;</span><br />
+Why, Raleigh&mdash;he was glad to be<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Famed for a quack elixir,</span><br />
+And Digby sold (as we are told)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A charm for folk love-sick, sir!</span><br />
+<br />
+Napoleon knew a thing or two,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And clearly he was partial</span><br />
+To doctors, for, in time of war,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He chose one for marshal,</span><br />
+In our great cause a doctor was<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The first to pass death's portal,</span><br />
+And Warren's name at once became<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A beacon and immortal!</span><br />
+<br />
+A heap, indeed, of what we read<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By doctors is provided,</span><br />
+For to those groves Apollo loves<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their leaning is decided;</span><br />
+Deny<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> who may that Rabelais<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is first in wit and learning&mdash;</span><br />
+And yet all smile and marvel while<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His brilliant leaves they're turning.</span><br />
+<br />
+How Lever's pen has charmed all men&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How touching Rab's short story!</span><br />
+And I will stake my all that Drake<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is still the schoolboy's glory!</span><br />
+A doctor-man it was began<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Great Britain's great museum;</span><br />
+The treasures there are all so rare,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It drives me wild to see 'em!</span><br />
+<br />
+There's Cuvier, Parr and Rush&mdash;they are<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Big monuments to learning;</span><br />
+To Mitchell's prose (how smooth it flows!)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We all are fondly turning;</span><br />
+Tomes might be writ of that keen wit<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which Abernethy's famed for&mdash;</span><br />
+With bread-crumb pills he cured the ills<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Most doctors get blamed for!</span><br />
+<br />
+In modern times the noble rhymes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Holmes (a great physician!)</span><br />
+Have solace brought and wisdom taught<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hearts of all conditions.</span><br />
+The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> sailor bound for Puget sound<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Finds pleasure still unfailing,</span><br />
+If he but troll the barcarole<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old Osborne wrote on Whaling!</span><br />
+<br />
+If there were need I could proceed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ad naus, with this prescription,</span><br />
+But, inter nos, a larger dose<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Might give you fits conniption;</span><br />
+Yet, ere I end, there's one dear friend<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'd hold before these others,</span><br />
+For he and I in years gone by,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have chummed around like brothers.</span><br />
+<br />
+Together we have sung in glee<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The songs old Horace made for</span><br />
+Our genial craft&mdash;together quaffed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What bowls that doctor paid for!</span><br />
+I love the rest, but love him best,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, were not times so pressing,</span><br />
+I'd buy and send&mdash;you smile, old friend?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, then, here goes my blessing.</span></td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">BEN APFELGARTEN.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+There was a certain gentleman, Ben Apfelgarten called,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who lived way off in Germany a many years ago,</span><br />
+And he was very fortunate in being very bald,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so was very happy he was so.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He warbled all the day</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Such songs as only they</span><br />
+Who are very, very circumspect and very happy may;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The people wondered why,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As the years went grinding by,</span><br />
+They never heard him once complain or even heave a sigh!<br />
+<br />
+The women of the province fell in love with genial Ben,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till (maybe you can fancy it) the dickens was to pay</span><br />
+Among the callow students and the sober-minded men&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the women folk a-cuttin' up that way!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Why, they gave him turbans red</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To adorn his hairless head,</span><br />
+And knitted jaunty nightcaps to protect him when abed!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> vain the rest demurred&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Not a single chiding word</span><br />
+Those ladies deigned to tolerate&mdash;remonstrance was absurd!<br />
+<br />
+Things finally got into such a very dreadful way<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the others (oh, how artful!) formed the politic design</span><br />
+To send him to the reichstag; so, one dull November day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They elected him a member from the Rhine!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then the other members said:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Gott in Himmel; what a head!"</span><br />
+But they marveled when his speeches they listened to or read;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And presently they cried:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"There must be heaps inside</span><br />
+Of the smooth and shiny cranium his constituents deride!"<br />
+<br />
+Well, when at last he up 'nd died&mdash;long past his ninetieth year&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The strangest and the most luguberous funeral he had,</span><br />
+For women came in multitudes to weep upon his bier&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The men all wond'ring why on earth the women had gone mad!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> this wonderment increased,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Till the sympathetic priest</span><br />
+Inquired of those same ladies: "Why this fuss about deceased?"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whereupon they were appalled,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For, as one, those women squalled:</span><br />
+"We doted on deceased for being bald&mdash;bald&mdash;bald!"<br />
+<br />
+He was bald because his genius burnt that shock of hair away,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which, elsewise, clogs one's keenness and activity of mind,</span><br />
+And (barring present company, of course,) I'm free to say<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That, after all, it's intellect that captures woman-kind.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">At any rate, since then</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">(With a precedent in Ben),</span><br />
+The women-folk have been in love with us bald-headed men!</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">IN HOLLAND.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>
+Our course lay up a smooth canal<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through tracks of velvet green,</span><br />
+And through the shade that windmills made,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pasture lands between.</span><br />
+The kine had canvas on their backs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To temper Autumn's spite,</span><br />
+And everywhere there was an air<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of comfort and delight.</span><br />
+<br />
+My wife, dear philosophic soul!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saw here whereof to prate:</span><br />
+"Vain fools are we across the sea<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To boast our nobler state!</span><br />
+Go north or south or east or west,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or wheresoever you please,</span><br />
+You shall not find what's here combined&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Equality and ease!</span><br />
+<br />
+"How tidy are these honest homes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In every part and nook&mdash;</span><br />
+The men folk wear a prosperous air,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The women happy look.</span><br />
+Seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> the peace that smiles around,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I would our land was such&mdash;</span><br />
+Think as you may, I'm free to say<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I would we were the Dutch!"</span><br />
+<br />
+Just then we overtook a boat<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(The Golden Tulip hight)&mdash;</span><br />
+Big with the weight of motley freight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was a goodly sight!</span><br />
+Meynheer van Blarcom sat on deck,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With pipe in lordly pose,</span><br />
+And with his son of twenty-one<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He played at dominoes.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then quoth my wife: "How fair to see<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This sturdy, honest man</span><br />
+Beguile all pain and lust of gain<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With whatso joys he can;</span><br />
+Methinks his spouse is down below<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beading a kerchief gay&mdash;</span><br />
+A babe, mayhap, lolls in her lap<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the good old Milky way.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Where in the land from whence we came<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is there content like this&mdash;</span><br />
+Where such disdain of sordid gain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such sweet domestic bliss?</span><br />
+A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> homespun woman I, this land<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Delights me overmuch&mdash;</span><br />
+Think as you will and argue still,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I like the honest Dutch."</span><br />
+<br />
+And then my wife made end of speech&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her voice stuck in her throat,</span><br />
+For, swinging around the turn, we found<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What motor moved the boat;</span><br />
+Hitched up in tow-path harness there<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was neither horse nor cow,</span><br />
+But the buxom frame of a Hollandische dame&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Meynheer van Blarcom's frau.</span></td></tr></table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="big">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:</span></p>
+
+
+ <p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected as follows:</span></p>
+
+ <p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Page&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 6: <i>Japan</i> changed to <i>Spain</i></span><br/>
+ <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Page&nbsp;&nbsp; 85: <i>you re</i> changed to <i>you're</i></span><br/>
+ <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Page 101: comma added after <i>spiders</i></span><br/>
+ <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Page 113: ' changed to " before <i>Let</i></span><br/>
+ <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Page 157: <i>the</i> changed to <i>they</i></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Lyrics, by Eugene Field
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER LYRICS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 36150-h.htm or 36150-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+ http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/5/36150/
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, 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 1.F.3. 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>
diff --git a/36150-h/images/002.png b/36150-h/images/002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..807eab7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/36150-h/images/002.png
Binary files differ
diff --git a/36150-h/images/frontis.jpg b/36150-h/images/frontis.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1bc1923
--- /dev/null
+++ b/36150-h/images/frontis.jpg
Binary files differ
diff --git a/36150.txt b/36150.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5b1eecc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/36150.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,3939 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Lyrics, by Eugene Field
+
+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: Hoosier Lyrics
+
+Author: Eugene Field
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2011 [EBook #36150]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER LYRICS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Eugene Field]
+
+
+
+
+ HOOSIER
+ LYRICS
+
+ BY
+
+ EUGENE FIELD
+
+ AUTHOR OF
+ THE CLINK OF THE ICE, JOHN SMITH,
+ U. S. A., IN WINK-A-WAY-LAND, ETC.
+
+ M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
+ CHICAGO, ILL.
+
+
+
+
+ SELECTED WORKS _of_ EUGENE FIELD
+
+ _Uniform with this volume_
+
+ The Clink of the Ice
+ Hoosier Lyrics
+ In Wink-a-Way Land
+ John Smith, U. S. A.
+
+ _Four volumes, boxed, $3.00_
+
+ _Single volumes, 75 cents, postpaid_
+
+ M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
+ 701-727 S. DEARBORN ST. CHICAGO
+
+ Copyright, 1905
+ M. A. Donohue & Co.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+From whatever point of view the character of Eugene Field is seen,
+genius--rare and quaint presents itself in childlike simplicity. That he
+was a poet of keen perception, of rare discrimination, all will admit.
+He was a humorist as delicate and fanciful as Artemus Ward, Mark Twain,
+Bill Nye, James Whitcomb Riley, Opie Read, or Bret Harte in their
+happiest moods. Within him ran a poetic vein, capable of being worked in
+any direction, and from which he could, at will, extract that which his
+imagination saw and felt most. That he occasionally left the
+child-world, in which he longed to linger, to wander among the older
+children of men, where intuitively the hungry listener follows him into
+his Temple of Mirth, all should rejoice, for those who knew him not, can
+while away the moments imbibing the genius of his imagination in the
+poetry and prose here presented.
+
+Though never possessing an intimate acquaintanceship with Field, owing
+largely to the disparity in our ages, still there existed a bond of
+friendliness that renders my good opinion of him in a measure
+trustworthy. Born in the same city, both students in the same college,
+engaged at various times in newspaper work both in St. Louis and
+Chicago, residents of the same ward, with many mutual friends, it is not
+surprising that I am able to say of him that "the world is better off
+that he lived, not in gold and silver or precious jewels, but in the
+bestowal of priceless truths, of which the possessor of this book
+becomes a benefactor of no mean share of his estate."
+
+Every lover of Field, whether of the songs of childhood or the poems
+that lend mirth to the out-pouring of his poetic nature, will welcome
+this unique collection of his choicest wit and humor.
+
+ CHARLES WALTER Brown.
+
+Chicago, January, 1905.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+ PAGE.
+
+ Hoosier Lyrics Paraphrased 9
+
+ Gettin' On 14
+
+ Minnie Lee 16
+
+ Answer to Minnie Lee 17
+
+ Lizzie 18
+
+ Our Lady of the Mine 20
+
+ Penn-Yan Bill 25
+
+ Ed 31
+
+ How Salty Win Out 33
+
+ His Queen 36
+
+ Answer to His Queen 37
+
+ Alaskan Balladry--Skans in Love 38
+
+ The Biggest Fish 39
+
+ Bonnie Jim Campbell 42
+
+ Lyman, Frederick and Jim 44
+
+ A Wail 46
+
+ Clendenin's Lament 48
+
+ On the Wedding of G. C. 49
+
+ To G. C. 51
+
+ To Dr. F. W. R. 52
+
+ Horace's Ode to "Lydia" Roche 54
+
+ A Paraphrase, Circa 1715 56
+
+ A Paraphrase, Ostensibly by Dr. I. W. 57
+
+ Horace I., 27 58
+
+ Heine's "Widow or Daughter" 59
+
+ Horace II., 20 60
+
+ Horace's Spring Poem, Odes I., 4 62
+
+ Horace to Ligurine, Odes IV., 10 64
+
+ Horace on His Muscle, Epode VI. 65
+
+ Horace to Maecenas, Odes III., 29 66
+
+ Horace in Love Again, Epode XI. 68
+
+ "Good-By--God Bless You!" 70
+
+ Horace, Epode XIV. 72
+
+ Horace I., 23 74
+
+ A Paraphrase 75
+
+ A Paraphrase by Chaucer 76
+
+ Horace I., 5 77
+
+ Horace I., 20 78
+
+ Envoy 78
+
+ Horace II., 7 79
+
+ Horace I., 11 81
+
+ Horace I., 13 82
+
+ Horace IV., 1 83
+
+ Horace to His Patron 85
+
+ The "Ars Poetica" of Horace--XVIII. 87
+
+ Horace I., 34 88
+
+ Horace I., 33 89
+
+ The "Ars Poetica" of Horace I. 91
+
+ The Great Journalist in Spain 93
+
+ Reid, the Candidate 95
+
+ A Valentine 97
+
+ Kissing-Time 98
+
+ The Fifth of July 100
+
+ Picnic-Time 101
+
+ The Romance of a Watch 103
+
+ Our Baby 104
+
+ The Color that Suits Me Best 106
+
+ How to "Fill" 108
+
+ Politics in 1888 109
+
+ The Baseball Score 110
+
+ Chicago Newspaper Life 112
+
+ The Mighty West 114
+
+ April 116
+
+ Report of the Baseball Game 118
+
+ The Rose 120
+
+ Kansas City vs. Detroit 121
+
+ Me and Bilkammle 122
+
+ To the Detroit Baseball Club 124
+
+ A Ballad of Ancient Oaths 125
+
+ An Old Song Revised 128
+
+ The Grateful Patient 130
+
+ The Beginning and the End 131
+
+ Clare Market 133
+
+ Uncle Ephraim 135
+
+ Thirty-Nine 138
+
+ Horace I., 18 141
+
+ Three Rineland Drinking Songs 143
+
+ The Three Tailors 147
+
+ Morning Hymn 150
+
+ Doctors 151
+
+ Ben Apfelgarten 155
+
+ In Holland 158
+
+
+
+
+HOOSIER LYRICS PARAPHRASED.
+
+
+
+ We've come from Indiany, five hundred miles or more,
+ Supposin' we wuz goin' to get the nominashin, shore;
+ For Col. New assured us (in that noospaper o' his)
+ That we cud hev the airth, if we'd only tend to biz.
+ But here we've been a-slavin' more like bosses than like men
+ To diskiver that the people do not hanker arter Ben;
+ It _is_ fur Jeems G. Blaine an' _not_ for Harrison they shout--
+ And the gobble-uns 'el git us
+ Ef we
+ Don't
+ Watch
+ Out!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ When I think of the fate that is waiting for Ben,
+ I pine for the peace of my childhood again;
+ I wish in my sorrow I could strip to the soul
+ And hop off once more in the old swimmin' hole!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ The world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew
+ (Which is another word for soup) that drips for me and you.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ "Little Benjy! Little Benjy!" chirps the robin in the tree;
+ "Little Benjy!" sighs the clover, "Little Benjy!" moans the bee;
+ "Little Benjy! Little Benjy!" murmurs John C. New,
+ A-stroking down the whiskers which the winds have whistled through.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Looks jest like his grampa, who's dead these many years--
+ He wears the hat his grampa wore, pulled down below his ears;
+ We'd like to have him four years more, but if he cannot stay--
+ Nothin' to say, good people; nothin' at all to say!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ There, little Ben, don't cry!
+ They have busted your boom, I know;
+ And the second term
+ For which you squirm
+ Has gone where good niggers go!
+ But Blaine is safe, and the goose hangs high--
+ There, little Ben, don't cry!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Mabbe we'll git even for this unexpected shock,
+ When the frost is on the pumpkin and the fodder's in the shock!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Oh, the newspaper man! He works for paw;
+ He's the liveliest critter 'at ever you saw;
+ With whiskers 'at reach f'om his eyes to his throat.
+ He knows how to wheedle and rivet a vote;
+ He wunst wuz a consul 'way over the sea--
+ But never again a consul he'll be!
+ He come back f'om Lon'on one mornin' in May--
+ He come back for bizness, an' here he will stay--
+ Ain't he a awful slick newspaper man?
+ A newspaper, newspaper, newspaper man!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ You kin talk about yer cities where the politicians meet--
+ You kin talk about yer cities where a decent man gits beat;
+ With the general run o' human kind I beg to disagree--
+ The little town of Tailholt is good enough f'r me!
+
+ Chicago was a pleasant town in eighteen-eighty-eight,
+ And I have lived in Washington long time in splendid state;
+ But all the present prospects are that after ninety-three
+ The little town o' Tailholt 'll be good enough f'r me!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ "I wunst lived in Indiany," said a consul, gaunt and grim,
+ As most of us Blaine delegates wuz kind o' guyin' him;
+ "I wunst lived in Indiany, and my views wuz widely read,
+ Fur I run a daily paper w'ich 'Lije Halford edited;
+ But since I've been away f'm home, my paper (seems to me)
+ Ain't nearly such a inflooence ez wot it used to be;
+ So, havin' done with consulin', I'm goin' to make a break
+ Towards making of a paper like the one I used to make."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Think, if you kin, of his term mos' through,
+ An' that ol' man wantin' a secon' term, too;
+ Picture him bendin' over the form
+ Of his consul-gineril, stanch an' grim,
+ Who has stood the brunt of that jimblain storm--
+ An' that ol' man jest wrapt up in him!
+ An' the consul-gineril, with eyes all bleared
+ An' a haunted look in his ashen beard,
+ Kind o' gaspin' a feeble way--
+ But soothed to hear the ol' man say
+ In a meaning tone (as one well may
+ When words are handy and ----'s to pay):
+ "Good-by, John; take care of yo'_self_!"
+
+
+
+
+GETTIN' ON.
+
+
+ When I wuz somewhat younger,
+ I wuz reckoned purty gay--
+ I had my fling at everything
+ In a rollickin', coltish way,
+ But times have strangely altered
+ Since sixty years ago--
+ This age of steam an' things don't seem
+ Like the age I used to know,
+ Your modern innovations
+ Don't suit me, I confess,
+ As did the ways of the good ol' days--
+ But I'm gettin' on, I guess.
+
+ I set on the piazza
+ An' hitch around with the sun--
+ Sometimes, mayhap, I take a nap,
+ Waitin' till school is done,
+ An' then I tell the children
+ The things I done in youth,
+ An' near as I can (as a venerable man)
+ I stick to the honest truth!
+ But the looks of them 'at listen
+ Seems sometimes to express
+ The remote idee that I'm gone--you see!
+ An' I am gettin' on, I guess.
+
+ I get up in the mornin',
+ An' nothin' else to do,
+ Before the rest are up and dressed
+ I read the papers through;
+ I hang 'round with the women
+ All day an' hear 'em talk,
+ An' while they sew or knit I show
+ The baby how to walk;
+ An' somehow, I feel sorry
+ When they put away his dress
+ An' cut his curls ('cause they're like a girl's)--
+ I'm gettin' on, I guess!
+
+ Sometimes, with twilight round me,
+ I see (or seem to see)
+ A distant shore where friends of yore
+ Linger and watch for me;
+ Sometimes I've heered 'em callin'
+ So tenderlike 'nd low
+ That it almost seemed like a dream I dreamed,
+ Or an echo of long ago;
+ An' sometimes on my forehead
+ There falls a soft caress,
+ Or the touch of a hand--you understand--
+ I'm gettin' on, I guess.
+
+
+
+
+MINNIE LEE.
+
+
+Writing from an Indiana town a young woman asks: "Is the enclosed poem
+worth anything?"
+
+We find that the poem is as follows:
+
+ She has left us, our own darling--
+ And we never more shall see
+ Here on earth our dearly loved one--
+ God has taken Minnie Lee.
+
+ Her heart was full of goodness
+ And her face was fair to see
+ And her life was full of beauty--
+ How we miss our Minnie Lee!
+
+ But her work on earth is over
+ And her spirit now is free
+ She has gone to live in heaven--
+ Shall we weep for Minnie Lee?
+
+ Would we call our angel darling
+ Back again across the sea?
+ No! but sometime up in heaven
+ We will meet loved Minnie Lee.
+
+
+To the question as to whether this poem is worth anything we chose to
+answer in verse as follows:
+
+ Sweet poetess, your poetry
+ Is bad as bad can be,
+ And yet we heartily deplore
+ The death of Minnie Lee.
+
+ It would have pleased us better
+ If, in His wisdom, He
+ Had taken you, sweet poetess,
+ Instead of Minnie Lee.
+
+ Your turn will come, however,
+ And swift and sure 'twill be
+ If you continue sending
+ Your rhymes on Minnie Lee.
+
+ From this we hope you will gather
+ A dim surmise that we
+ Don't take much stock in poems
+ Concerning Minnie Lee.
+
+
+
+
+LIZZIE.
+
+
+ I wonder ef all wimmin air
+ Like Lizzie is when we go out
+ To theaters an' concerts where
+ Is things the papers talk about.
+ Do other wimmin fret and stew
+ Like they wuz bein' crucified--
+ Frettin' a show or a concert through,
+ With wonderin' ef the baby cried?
+
+ Now Lizzie knows that gran'ma's there
+ To see that everything is right,
+ Yet Lizzie thinks that gran'ma's care
+ Ain't good enuf f'r baby, quite;
+ Yet what am I to answer when
+ She kind uv fidgets at my side,
+ An' every now and then;
+ "I wonder ef the baby cried?"
+
+ Seems like she seen two little eyes
+ A-pinin' f'r their mother's smile--
+ Seems like she heern the pleadin' cries
+ Uv one she thinks uv all the while;
+ An' she's sorry that she come,
+ 'An' though she allus tries to hide
+ The truth, she'd ruther stay to hum
+ Than wonder ef the baby cried.
+
+ Yes, wimmin folks is all alike--
+ By Lizzie you kin jedge the rest.
+ There never was a little tyke,
+ But that his mother loved him best,
+ And nex' to bein' what I be--
+ The husband of my gentle bride--
+ I'd wisht I wuz that croodlin' wee,
+ With Lizzie wonderin' ef I cried.
+
+
+
+
+OUR LADY OF THE MINE.
+
+
+ The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all thought well uv,
+ And there befell the episode I now perpose to tell uv;
+ 'Twuz in the year of sixty-nine--somewhere along in summer--
+ There hove in sight one afternoon a new and curious comer;
+ His name wuz Silas Pettibone--an artist by perfession,
+ With a kit of tools and a big mustache and a pipe in his possession;
+ He told us, by our leave, he'd kind uv like to make some sketches
+ Uv the snowy peaks, 'nd the foamin' crick, 'nd the distant mountain
+ stretches;
+ "You're welkim, sir," sez we, although this scenery dodge seemed to us
+ A waste uv time where scenery wuz already sooper-_floo_-us.
+
+ All through the summer Pettibone kep' busy at his sketchin'--
+ At daybreak, off for Eagle Pass, and home at nightfall, fetchin'
+ That everlastin' book uv his with spider lines all through it--
+ Three-Fingered Hoover used to say there warn't no meanin' to it--
+ "God durn a man," sez he to him, "whose shif'less hand is sot at
+ A-drawin' hills that's full of quartz that's pinin' to be got at!"
+ "Go on," sez Pettibone, "go on, if joshin' gratifies ye,
+ But one uv these fine times, I'll show ye sumthin' will surprise ye!"
+ The which remark led us to think--although he didn't say it--
+ That Pettibone wuz owin' us a gredge 'nd meant to pay it.
+
+ One evenin' as we sat around the restauraw de Casey,
+ A-singin' songs 'nd tellin' yarns the which wuz sumwhat racy,
+ In come that feller Pettibone 'nd sez: "With your permission
+ I'd like to put a picture I have made on exhibition."
+ He sot the picture on the bar 'nd drew aside its curtain,
+ Sayin': "I recken you'll allow as how _that's_ art, f'r certain!"
+ And then we looked, with jaws agape, but nary word wuz spoken,
+ And f'r a likely spell the charm uv silence wuz unbroken--
+ Till presently, as in a dream, remarked Three-Fingered Hoover:
+ "Onless I am mistaken, this is Pettibone's shef doover!"
+ It wuz a face, a human face--a woman's, fair 'nd tender,
+ Sot gracefully upon a neck white as a swan's, and slender;
+ The hair wuz kind of sunny, 'nd the eyes wuz sort uv dreamy,
+ The mouth wuz half a-smilin', 'nd the cheeks wuz soft 'nd creamy;
+ It seemed like she wuz lookin' off into the west out yonder,
+ And seemed like, while she looked, we saw her eyes grow softer,
+ fonder--
+ Like, lookin' off into the west where mountain mists wuz fallin',
+ She saw the face she longed to see and heerd his voice a-callin';
+ "Hooray!" we cried; "a woman in the camp uv Blue Horizon--
+ Step right up, Colonel Pettibone, 'nd nominate your pizen!"
+
+ A curious situation--one deservin' uv your pity--
+ No human, livin' female thing this side of Denver City!
+ But jest a lot uv husky men that lived on sand 'nd bitters--
+ Do you wonder that that woman's face consoled the lonesome critters?
+ And not a one but what it served in some way to remind him
+ Of a mother or a sister or a sweetheart left behind him--
+ And some looked back on happier days and saw the old-time faces
+ And heerd the dear familiar sounds in old familiar places--
+ A gracious touch of home--"Look here," sez Hoover, "ever'body
+ Quit thinkin' 'nd perceed at oncet to name his favorite toddy!"
+
+ It wuzn't long afore the news had spread the country over,
+ And miners come a-flockin' in like honey bees to clover;
+ It kind uv did 'em good they said, to feast their hungry eyes on
+ That picture uv Our Lady in the camp uv Blue Horizon.
+ But one mean cuss from Nigger Crick passed criticisms on 'er--
+ Leastwise we overheerd him call her Pettibone's madonner,
+ The which we did not take to be respectful to a lady--
+ So we hung him in a quiet spot that wuz cool 'nd dry 'nd shady;
+ Which same might not have been good law, but it _wuz_ the right
+ maneuver
+ To give the critics due respect for Pettibone's shef doover.
+
+ Gone is the camp--yes, years ago, the Blue Horizon busted,
+ And every mother's son uv us got up one day 'nd dusted,
+ While Pettibone perceeded east with wealth in his possession
+ And went to Yurrup, as I heerd, to study his perfession;
+ So, like as not, you'll find him now a-paintin' heads 'nd faces
+ At Venus, Billy Florence and the like I-talyun places--
+ But no such face he'll paint again as at old Blue Horizon,
+ For I'll allow no sweeter face no human soul sot eyes on;
+ And when the critics talk so grand uv Paris 'nd the loover,
+ I say: "Oh, but you orter seen the Pettibone shef doover!"
+
+
+
+
+PENN-YAN BILL.
+
+
+ I.
+
+ In gallus old Kentucky, where the grass is very blue,
+ Where the liquor is the smoothest and the girls are fair and true,
+ Where the crop of he-gawd gentlemen is full of heart and sand,
+ And the stock of four-time winners is the finest in the land;
+ Where the democratic party in bourbon hardihood
+ For more than half a century unterrified has stood,
+ Where nod the black-eyed Susans to the prattle of the rill--
+ There--there befell the wooing of Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ II.
+
+ Down yonder in the cottage that is nestling in the shade
+ Of the walnut trees that seem to love that quiet little glade
+ Abides a pretty maiden of the bonny name of Sue--
+ As pretty as the black-eyed flow'rs and quite as modest, too;
+ And lovers came there by the score, of every age and kind,
+ But not a one (the story goes) was quite to Susie's mind.
+ Their sighs, their protestations, and their pleadings made her ill--
+ Till at once upon the scene hove Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ III.
+
+ He came from old Montana and he rode a broncho mare,
+ He had a rather howd'y'do and rough-and-tumble air;
+ His trousers were of buckskin and his coat of furry stuff--
+ His hat was drab of color and its brim was wide enough;
+ Upon each leg a stalwart boot reached just above the knee,
+ And in the belt about his waist his weepons carried he;
+ A rather strapping lover for our little Susie--still,
+ _She_ was _his_ choice and _he_ was _hers_, was Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ IV.
+
+ We wonder that the ivy seeks out the oaken tree,
+ And twines her tendrils round him, though scarred and gnarled he be;
+ We wonder that a gentle girl, unused to worldly cares,
+ Should choose a man whose life has been a constant scrap with bears;
+ Ah, 'tis the nature of the vine, and of the maiden, too--
+ So when the bold Montana boy came from his lair to woo,
+ The fair Kentucky blossom felt all her heartstrings thrill
+ Responsive to the purring of Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ V.
+
+ He told her of his cabin in the mountains far away,
+ Of the catamount that howls by night, the wolf that yawps by day;
+ He told her of the grizzly with the automatic jaw,
+ He told her of the Injun who devours his victims raw;
+ Of the jayhawk with his tawdry crest and whiskers in his throat,
+ Of the great gosh-awful sarpent and the Rocky mountain goat.
+ A book as big as Shakespeare's or as Webster's you could fill
+ With the yarns that emanated from Penn-Yan Bill!
+
+
+ VI.
+
+ Lo, as these mighty prodigies the westerner relates,
+ Her pretty mouth falls wide agape--her eyes get big as plates;
+ And when he speaks of varmints that in the Rockies grow
+ She shudders and she clings to him and timidly cries "Oh!"
+ And then says he: "Dear Susie, I'll tell you what to do--
+ You be my wife, and none of these 'ere things dare pester you!"
+ And she? She answers, clinging close and trembling yet: "I will."
+ And then he gives her one big kiss, does Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ VII.
+
+ Avaunt, ye poet lovers, with your wishywashy lays!
+ Avaunt, ye solemn pedants, with your musty, bookish ways!
+ Avaunt, ye smurking dandies who air your etiquette
+ Upon the gold your fathers worked so long and hard to get!
+ How empty is your nothingness beside the sturdy tales
+ Which mountaineers delight to tell of border hills and vales--
+ Of snaix that crawl, of beasts that yowl, of birds that flap and trill
+ In the wild egregious altitude of Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ VIII.
+
+ Why, over all these mountain peaks his honest feet have trod--
+ So high above the rest of us he seemed to walk with God;
+ He's breathed the breath of heaven, as it floated, pure and free,
+ From the everlasting snow-caps to the mighty western sea;
+ And he's heard that awful silence which thunders in the ear:
+ "There is a great Jehovah, and His biding place is here!"
+ These--these solemn voices and these the sights that thrill
+ In the far-away Montana of Penn-Yan Bill.
+
+
+ IX.
+
+ Of course she had to love him, for it was her nature to;
+ And she'll wed him in the summer, if all we hear be true.
+ The blue grass will be waving in that cool Kentucky glade
+ Where the black-eyed Susans cluster in the pleasant walnut shade--
+ Where the doves make mournful music and the locust trills a song
+ To the brook that through the pasture scampers merrily along;
+ And speechless pride and rapture ineffable shall fill
+ The beatific bosom of Penn-Yan Bill!
+
+
+
+
+ED.
+
+
+ Ed was a man that played for keeps, 'nd when he tuk the notion,
+ You cudn't stop him any more'n a dam 'ud stop the ocean;
+ For when he tackled to a thing 'nd sot his mind plum to it,
+ You bet yer boots he done that thing though it broke the bank to do
+ it!
+ So all us boys uz knowed him best allowed he wusn't jokin'
+ When on a Sunday he remarked uz how he'd gin up smokin'.
+ Now this remark, that Ed let fall, fell, ez I say, on Sunday--
+ Which is the reason we wuz shocked to see him sail in Monday
+ A-puffin' at a snipe that sizzled like a Chinese cracker
+ An' smelt fur all the world like rags instead uv like terbacker;
+ Recoverin' from our first surprise, us fellows fell to pokin'
+ A heap uv fun at "folks uz said how they had gin up smokin'."
+ But Ed--sez he: "I found my work cud not be done without it--
+ Jes' try the scheme yourself, my friends, ef any uv you doubt it!
+ It's hard, I know, upon one's health, but there's a certain beauty
+ In makin' sackerfices to the stern demand uv duty!
+ So, wholly in a sperrit uv denial 'nd concession
+ I mortify the flesh 'nd fur the sake uv my perfession!"
+
+
+
+
+HOW SALTY WIN OUT.
+
+
+ Used to think that luck wuz luck and nuthin' else but luck--
+ It made no diff'rence how or when or where or why it struck;
+ But sev'ral years ago I changt my mind and now proclaim
+ That luck's a kind uv science--same as any other game;
+ It happened out in Denver in the spring uv '80, when
+ Salty teched a humpback an' win out ten.
+
+ Salty wuz a printer in the good ol' Tribune days,
+ An', natural-like, he fell in love with the good ol' Tribune ways;
+ So, every Sunday evenin' he would sit into the game
+ Which in this crowd uv thoroughbreds I think I need not name;
+ An' there he'd sit until he rose, an', when he rose he wore
+ Invariably less wealth about his person than before.
+
+ But once there come a powerful change; one sollum Sunday night
+ Occurred the tidle wave what put ol' Salty out o' sight!
+ He win on deuce an' ace an' jack--he win on king an' queen--
+ Cliff Bill allowed the like uv how he win wuz never seen!
+ An' how he done it wuz revealed to all us fellers when
+ He said he teched a humpback to win out ten.
+
+ There must be somethin' in it for he never win afore,
+ An' when he tole the crowd about the humpback, how they swore!
+ For every sport allows it is a losin' game to buck
+ Agin the science of a man who's teched a hump f'r luck;
+ An' there is no denyin' luck was nowhere in it when
+ Salty teched a humpback an' win out ten.
+
+ I've had queer dreams an' seen queer things, an' allus tried to do
+ The thing that luck apparrently intended f'r me to;
+ Cats, funerils, cripples, beggars have I treated with regard,
+ An' charity subscriptions have hit me powerful hard;
+ But what's the use uv talkin'? I say, an' say again;
+ You've got to tech a humpback to win out ten!
+
+ So, though I used to think that luck wuz lucky, I'll allow
+ That luck, for luck, agin a hump ain't nowhere in it now!
+ An' though I can't explain the whys an' wherefores, I maintain
+ There must be somethin' in it when the tip's so straight an' plain;
+ For I wuz there an' seen it, an' got full with Salty when
+ Salty teched a humpback and win out ten!
+
+
+
+
+HIS QUEEN.
+
+
+Our gifted and genial friend, Mr. William J. Florence, the comedian,
+takes to verses as naturally as a canvas-back duck takes to celery
+sauce. As a balladist he has few equals and no superiors, and when it
+comes to weaving compliments to the gentler sex he is without a peer. We
+find in the New York Mirror the latest verses from Mr. Florence's pen;
+they are entitled "Pasadene," and the first stanza flows in this wise:
+
+ I've journeyed East, I've journeyed West,
+ And fair Italia's fields I've seen;
+ But I declare
+ None can compare
+ With thee, my rose-crowned Pasadene.
+
+Following this introduction come five stanzas heaping even more glowing
+compliments upon this Miss Pasadene--whoever she may be--we know her
+not. They are handsome compliments, beautifully phrased, yet they give
+us the heartache, for we know Mrs. Florence, and it grieves us to see
+her husband dribbling away his superb intellect in penning verses to
+other women. Yet we think we understand it all; these poets have a
+pretty way of hymning the virtues of their wives under divers aliases.
+So, catching the afflatus of the genial actor-poet's muse, we would
+answer:
+
+ Come, now, who is this Pasadene
+ That such a whirl of praises warrant?
+ And is a rose
+ Her only clo'es?
+ Oh, fie upon you, Billy Florence!
+
+ Ah, no; that's your poetic way
+ Of turning loose your rhythmic torrents--
+ This Pasadene
+ Is not your queen--
+ We know you know we know it, Florence!
+
+ So sing your songs of women folks--
+ We'll read without the least abhorrence,
+ Because we know
+ Through weal and woe
+ Your queen is Mrs. Billy Florence!
+
+
+
+
+ALASKAN BALLADRY.--III.
+
+(Skans in Love.)
+
+
+ I am like the wretched seal
+ Wounded by a barbed device--
+ Helpless fellow! how I bellow,
+ Floundering on the jagged ice!
+
+ Sitka's beauty is the steel
+ That hath wrought this piteous woe:
+ Yet would I rather die
+ Than recover from the blow!
+
+ Still I'd rather live than die,
+ Grievous though my torment be;
+ Smite away, but, I pray,
+ Smite no victim else than me!
+
+
+
+
+THE BIGGEST FISH.
+
+
+ When, in the halcyon days of old, I was a little tyke,
+ I used to fish in pickerel ponds for minnows and the like;
+ And, oh, the bitter sadness with which my soul was fraught
+ When I rambled home at nightfall with the puny string I'd caught!
+ And, oh, the indignation and the valor I'd display
+ When I claimed that all the biggest fish I'd caught had got away!
+
+ Sometimes it was the rusty hooks, sometimes the fragile lines,
+ And many times the treacherous reeds were actually to blame.
+ I kept right on at losing all the monsters just the same--
+ I never lost a _little_ fish--yes, I am free to say
+ It always was the _biggest_ fish I caught that got away.
+ And so it was, when, later on, I felt ambition pass
+ From callow minnow joys to nobler greed for pike and bass;
+ I found it quite convenient, when the beauties wouldn't bite
+ And I returned all bootless from the watery chase at night,
+ To feign a cheery aspect and recount in accents gay
+ How the biggest fish that I had caught had somehow got away.
+
+ And, really, fish look bigger than they are before they're caught--
+ When the pole is bent into a bow and the slender line is taut,
+ When a fellow feels his heart rise up like a doughnut in his throat
+ And he lunges in a frenzy up and down the leaky boat!
+ Oh, you who've been a-fishing will indorse me when I say
+ That it always _is_ the biggest fish you catch that gets away!
+
+ 'Tis even so in other things--yes, in our greedy eyes
+ The biggest boon is some elusive, never-captured prize;
+ We angle for the honors and the sweets of human life--
+ Like fishermen we brave the seas that roll in endless strife;
+ And then at last, when all is done and we are spent and gray,
+ We own the biggest fish we've caught are those that get away.
+
+ I would not have it otherwise; 'tis better there should be
+ Much bigger fish than I have caught a-swimming in the sea;
+ For now some worthier one than I may angle for that game--
+ May by his arts entice, entrap, and comprehend the same;
+ Which, having done, perchance he'll bless the man who's proud to say
+ That the biggest fish he ever caught were those that got away.
+
+
+
+
+BONNIE JIM CAMPBELL: A LEGISLATIVE MEMORY.
+
+
+ Bonnie Jim Campbell rode up the glen,
+ But it wasn't to meet the butterine men;
+ It wasn't Phil Armour he wanted to see,
+ Nor Haines nor Crafts--though their friend was he.
+ Jim Campbell was guileless as man could be--
+ No fraud in his heart had he;
+ 'Twas all on account of his character's sake
+ That he sought that distant Wisconsin lake.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Bonnie Jim Campbell came riding home,
+ And now he sits in the rural gloam;
+ A tear steals furtively down his nose
+ As salt as the river that yonder flows;
+ To the setting sun and the rising moon
+ He plaintively warbles the good old tune:
+
+ "Of all the drinks that ever were made--
+ From sherbet to circus lemonade--
+ Not one's so healthy and sweet, I vow,
+ As the rich, thick cream of the Elgin cow!
+ Oh, that she were here to enliven the scene,
+ Right merry would be our hearts, I ween;
+ Then, then again, Bob Wilbanks and I
+ Would take it by turns and milk her dry!
+ We would stuff her paunch with the best of hay
+ And milk her a hundred times a day!"
+
+ 'Tis thus that Bonnie Jim Campbell sings--
+ A young he-angel with sprouting wings;
+ He sings and he prays that Fate'll allow
+ Him one more whack at the Elgin cow!
+
+
+
+
+LYMAN, FREDERICK AND JIM.
+
+
+ Lyman and Frederick and Jim, one day,
+ Set out in a great big ship--
+ Steamed to the ocean down to the bay
+ Out of a New York slip.
+ "Where are you going and what is your game?"
+ The people asked to those three.
+ "Darned, if we know; but all the same
+ Happy as larks are we;
+ And happier still we're going to be!"
+ Said Lyman
+ And Frederick
+ And Jim.
+
+ The people laughed "Aha, oho!
+ Oho, aha!" laughed they;
+ And while those three went sailing so
+ Some pirates steered that way.
+ The pirates they were laughing, too--
+ The prospect made them glad;
+ But by the time the job was through
+ Each of them pirates bold and bad,
+ Had been done out of all he had
+ By Lyman
+ And Frederick
+ And Jim.
+
+ Days and weeks and months they sped,
+ Painting that foreign clime
+ A beautiful, bright vermillion red--
+ And having a -- of a time!
+ 'Twas all so gaudy a lark, it seemed,
+ As if it could not be,
+ And some folks thought it a dream they dreamed
+ Of sailing that foreign sea,
+ But I'll identify you these three--
+ Lyman
+ And Frederick
+ And Jim.
+
+ Lyman and Frederick are bankers and sich
+ And Jim is an editor kind;
+ The first two named are awfully rich
+ And Jim ain't far behind!
+ So keep your eyes open and mind your tricks,
+ Or you are like to be
+ In quite as much of a Tartar fix
+ As the pirates that sailed the sea
+ And monkeyed with the pardners three,
+ Lyman
+ And Frederick
+ And Jim.
+
+
+
+
+A WAIL.
+
+
+ My name is Col. Johncey New,
+ And by a hoosier's grace
+ I have congenial work to do
+ At 12 St. Helen's place.
+ I was as happy as a clam
+ A-floating with the tide,
+ Till one day came a cablegram
+ To me from t'other side.
+
+ It was a Macedonian cry
+ From Benjy o'er the sea;
+ "Come hither, Johncey, instantly,
+ And whoop things up for me!"
+ I could not turn a callous ear
+ Unto that piteous cry;
+ I packed my grip, and for the pier
+ Directly started I.
+
+ Alas! things are not half so fair
+ As four short years ago--
+ The clouds are gathering everywhere
+ And boisterous breezes blow;
+ My wilted whiskers indicate
+ The depth of my disgrace--
+ Would I were back, enthroned in state,
+ At 12 St. Helen's place!
+
+ The saddest words, as I'll allow,
+ That drop from tongue or pen,
+ Are these sad words I utter now:
+ "They can't, shan't, won't have Ben!"
+ So, with my whiskers in my hands,
+ My journey I'll retrace,
+ To wreak revenge on foreign lands
+ At 12 St. Helen's place.
+
+
+
+
+CLENDENIN'S LAMENT.
+
+
+ While bridal knots are being tied
+ And bridal meats are being basted,
+ I shiver in the cold outside
+ And pine for joys I've never tasted.
+
+ Oh, what's a nomination worth,
+ When you have labored months to get it
+ If, all at once, with heartless mirth,
+ The cruel senator's upset it?
+
+ Fate weaves me such a toilsome way,
+ My modest wisdom may not ken it--
+ But, all the same, a plague I say
+ Upon that stingy, hostile senate!
+
+
+
+
+ON THE WEDDING OF G. C.
+
+(June 2, 1886.)
+
+
+ Oh, hand me down my spike tail coat
+ And reef my waistband in,
+ And tie this necktie round my throat
+ And fix my bosom pin;
+ I feel so weak and flustered like,
+ I don't know what I say--
+ For I am to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,
+ I'm to be wedded to-day!
+
+ Put double sentries at the doors
+ And pull the curtains down,
+ And tell the democratic bores
+ That I am out of town;
+ It's funny folks haint decency
+ Enough to stay away,
+ When I'm to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,
+ I'm to be wedded to-day!
+
+ The bride, you say, is calm and cool
+ In satin robes of white--
+ Well, _I_ am stolid, as a rule,
+ But now I'm flustered quite;
+ Upon a surging sea of bliss
+ My soul is borne away,
+ For I'm to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,
+ I'm to be wedded to-day!
+
+
+
+
+TO G. C.
+
+(July 12, 1886.)
+
+
+ They say our president has stuck
+ Above his good wife's door
+ The sign provocative of luck--
+ A horseshoe--nothing more.
+
+ Be hushed, O party hates, the while
+ That emblem lingers there,
+ And thou, dear fates, propitious smile
+ Upon the wedded pair.
+
+ I've tried the horseshoe's weird intent
+ And felt its potent joy--
+ God bless you, Mr. President,
+ And may it be a boy.
+
+
+
+
+TO DR. F. W. R.
+
+
+ If I were rich enough to buy
+ A case of wine (though I abhor it),
+ I'd send a quart of extra dry
+ And willingly get trusted for it.
+ But, lackaday! _You_ know that I'm
+ As poor as Job's historic turkey--
+ In lieu of Mumm, accept this rhyme,
+ An honest gift though somewhat jerky.
+
+ This is your silver wedding day--
+ You didn't mean to let me know it!
+ And yet your smiles and raiments gay
+ Beyond all peradventure show it!
+ By all you say and do it's clear
+ A birdling in your heart is singing,
+ And everywhere you go you hear
+ The old-time bridal bells a-ringing.
+
+ Ah, well, God grant that these dear chimes
+ May mind you of the sweetness only
+ Of those far distant, callow times
+ When you were Benedick and lonely--
+ And when an angel blessed your lot--
+ For angel is your helpmeet, truly--
+ And when, to share the joy she brought,
+ Came other little angels, duly.
+
+ So here's a health to you and wife--
+ Long may you mock the Reaper's warning,
+ And may the evening of your life
+ In rising sons renew the morning;
+ May happiness and peace and love
+ Come with each morrow to caress ye,
+ And when you're done with earth, above--
+ God bless ye, dear old friend--God bless ye!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE'S ODE TO "LYDIA" ROCHE.
+
+
+ No longer the boys,
+ With their music and noise,
+ Demand your election as mayor;
+ Such a milk-wagon hack
+ Has no place on the track
+ When his rival's a thoroughbred stayer.
+
+ With your coarse, shallow wit
+ Every rational cit
+ At last is completely disgusted;
+ The tool of the rings,
+ Trusts, barons, and things,
+ What wonder, I wonder, you're busted!
+
+ As soon as that Yerkes
+ Finds out you can't work his
+ Intrigues for the popular nickel,
+ With a tear to deceive you
+ He'll drop you and leave you
+ In your normal condition--a pickle.
+
+ Go, dodderer, go
+ Where the whisker winds blow
+ And spasms of penitence trouble;
+ Or flounder and whoop
+ In an ocean of soup
+ Where the pills of adversity bubble.
+
+
+
+
+A PARAPHRASE, CIRCA 1715.
+
+
+ Since Chloe is so monstrous fair,
+ With such an eye and such an air,
+ What wonder that the world complains
+ When she each am'rous suit disdains?
+
+ Close to her mother's side she clings
+ And mocks the death her folly brings
+ To gentle swains that feel the smarts
+ Her eyes inflict upon their hearts.
+
+ Whilst thus the years of youth go by,
+ Shall Colin languish, Strephon die?
+ Nay, cruel nymph! come, choose a mate,
+ And choose him ere it be too late!
+
+
+
+
+A PARAPHRASE, OSTENSIBLY BY DR. I. W.
+
+
+ Why, Mistress Chloe, do you bother
+ With prattlings and with vain ado
+ Your worthy and industrious mother,
+ Eschewing them that come to woo?
+
+ Oh, that the awful truth might quicken
+ This stern conviction to your breast:
+ You are no longer now a chicken
+ Too young to quit the parent nest.
+
+ So put aside your froward carriage
+ And fix your thoughts, whilst yet there's time,
+ Upon the righteousness of marriage
+ With some such godly man as I'm.
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 27.
+
+
+ In maudlin spite let Thracians fight
+ Above their bowls of liquor,
+ But such as we, when on a spree,
+ Should never bawl and bicker!
+
+ These angry words and clashing swords
+ Are quite de trop, I'm thinking;
+ Brace up, my boys, and hush your noise,
+ And drown your wrath in drinking.
+
+ Aha, 'tis fine--this mellow wine
+ With which our host would dope us!
+ Now let us hear what pretty dear
+ Entangles him of Opus.
+
+ I see you blush--nay, comrades, hush!
+ Come, friend, though they despise you,
+ Tell me the name of that fair dame--
+ Perchance I may advise you.
+
+ O wretched youth! and is it truth
+ You love that fickle lady?
+ I, doting dunce, courted her once,
+ And she is reckoned shady!
+
+
+
+
+HEINE'S "WIDOW OR DAUGHTER."
+
+
+ Shall I woo the one or the other?
+ Both attract me--more's the pity!
+ Pretty is the widowed mother,
+ And the daughter, too, is pretty.
+
+ When I see that maiden shrinking,
+ By the gods, I swear I'll get 'er!
+ But, anon, I fall to thinking
+ That the mother'll suit me better!
+
+ So, like any idiot ass--
+ Hungry for the fragrant fodder,
+ Placed between two bales of grass,
+ Lo, I doubt, delay, and dodder!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE II, 20.
+
+
+ Maecenas, I propose to fly
+ To realms beyond these human portals;
+ No common things shall be my wings,
+ But such as sprout upon immortals.
+
+ Of lowly birth, once shed of earth,
+ Your Horace, precious (so you've told him),
+ Shall soar away--no tomb of clay
+ Nor Stygian prison house shall hold him.
+
+ Upon my skin feathers begin
+ To warn the songster of his fleeting;
+ But never mind--I leave behind
+ Songs all the world shall keep repeating.
+
+ Lo, Boston girls with corkscrew curls,
+ And husky westerns, wild and woolly,
+ And southern climes shall vaunt my rhymes--
+ And all profess to know me fully.
+
+ Methinks the west shall know me best
+ And therefore hold my memory dearer,
+ For by that lake a bard shall make
+ My subtle, hidden meanings clearer.
+
+ So cherished, I shall never die--
+ Pray, therefore, spare your dolesome praises,
+ Your elegies and plaintive cries,
+ For I shall fertilize no daisies!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE'S SPRING POEM.
+
+(Odes I, 4.)
+
+
+ The western breeze is springing up, the ships are in the bay,
+ And Spring has brought a happy change as Winter melts away;
+ No more in stall or fire the herd or plowman finds delight,
+ No longer with the biting frosts the open fields are white.
+
+ Our Lady of Lythera now prepares to lead the dance,
+ While from above the ruddy moon bestows a friendly glance;
+ The nymphs and comely Graces join with Venus and the choir,
+ And Vulcan's glowing fancy lightly turns to thoughts of fire.
+
+ Now is the time with myrtle green to crown the shining pate,
+ And with the early blossoms of the spring to decorate;
+ To sacrifice to Faunus--on whose favor we rely--
+ A sprightly lamb, mayhap a kid, as he may specify.
+
+ Impartially the feet of Death at huts and castles strike--
+ The influenza carries off the rich and poor alike;
+ O Sestius! though blest you are beyond the common run,
+ Life is too short to cherish e'en a distant hope begun.
+
+ The Shades and Pluto's mansion follow hard upon la grippe--
+ Once there you cannot throw at dice or taste the wine you sip,
+ Nor look on Lycidas, whose beauty you commend,
+ To whom the girls will presently their courtesies extend.
+
+
+
+
+HORACE TO LIGURINE.
+
+(Odes IV, 10.)
+
+
+ O cruel fair,
+ Whose flowing hair
+ The envy and the pride of all is,
+ As onward roll
+ The years, that poll
+ Will get as bald as a billiard ball is;
+ Then shall your skin, now pink and dimply,
+ Be tanned to parchment, sear and pimply!
+
+ When you behold
+ Yourself grown old
+ These words shall speak your spirits moody:
+ "Unhappy one!
+ What heaps of fun
+ I've missed by being goody-goody!
+ Oh! that I might have felt the hunger
+ Of loveless age when I was younger!"
+
+
+
+
+HORACE ON HIS MUSCLE.
+
+(Epode VI.)
+
+
+ You (blatant coward that you are!)
+ Upon the helpless vent your spite;
+ Suppose you ply your trade on me--
+ Come, monkey with this bard and see
+ How I'll repay your bark with bite!
+
+ Ay, snarl just once at me, you brute!
+ And I shall hound you far and wide,
+ As fiercely as through drifted snow
+ The shepherd dog pursues what foe
+ Skulks on the Spartan mountain side!
+
+ The chip is on my shoulder, see?
+ But touch it and I'll raise your fur;
+ I'm full of business; so beware,
+ For, though I'm loaded up for bear,
+ I'm quite as likely to kill a cur!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE TO MAECENAS.
+
+(Odes III, 29.)
+
+
+ Dear noble friend! a virgin cask
+ Of wine solicits attention--
+ And roses fair, to deck your hair,
+ And things too numerous to mention,
+ So tear yourself awhile away
+ From urban turmoil, pride and splendor
+ And deign to share what humble fare
+ And sumptuous fellowship I tender;
+ The sweet content retirement brings
+ Smoothes out the ruffled front of kings.
+
+ The evil planets have combined
+ To make the weather hot and hotter--
+ By parboiled streams the shepherd dreams
+ Vainly of ice-cream soda-water;
+ And meanwhile you, defying heat,
+ With patriotic ardor ponder
+ On what old Rome essays at home
+ And what her heathen do out yonder.
+ Maecenas, no such vain alarm
+ Disturbs the quiet of this farm!
+
+ God in his providence observes
+ The goal beyond this vale of sorrow,
+ And smiles at men in pity when
+ They seek to penetrate the morrow.
+ With faith that all is for the best,
+ Let's bear what burdens are presented,
+ That we shall say, let come what may,
+ "We die, as we have lived, contented!
+ Ours is to-day; God's is the rest--
+ He doth ordain who knoweth best!"
+
+ Dame Fortune plays me many a prank--
+ When she is kind, oh! how I go it!
+ But if, again, she's harsh, why, then
+ I am a very proper poet!
+ When favoring gales bring in my ships,
+ I hie to Rome and live in clover--
+ Elsewise, I steer my skiff out here,
+ And anchor till the storm blows over.
+ Compulsory virtue is the charm
+ Of life upon the Sabine farm!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE IN LOVE AGAIN.
+
+(Epode XI.)
+
+
+ Dear Pettius, once I reeled off rhyme
+ Satiric, sad and tender,
+ But now my quill
+ Has lost its skill
+ And I am dying in my prime
+ Through love of female gender!
+ Nay, do not laugh
+ Nor deign to chaff
+ Your friend with taunts of Lyde
+ And other dames
+ Who've been my flames--
+ _This_ time it's bona-fide!
+
+ I maunder sadly to and fro--
+ I who was once so jolly!
+ My old time chums
+ Gyrate their thumbs
+ And taunt me, as I sighing go,
+ With what they term my folly.
+ I told you once,
+ Lake a garrulous dunce,
+ Of my all consuming passion,
+ And I rolled my eyes
+ In tragedy wise
+ And raved in lovesick fashion.
+
+ And when I'd aired my woes profound
+ You volunteered this warning:
+ "Horace, go light
+ On the bowl to-night--
+ Ten hours of sleep will bring you round
+ All right to-morrow morning!"
+ Now ten hours sleep
+ May do a heap
+ For callow hearts a-patter,
+ But I tell you, sir,
+ This affair du coeur
+ Of _mine_ is a serious matter!
+
+
+
+
+"GOOD-BY--GOD BLESS YOU!"
+
+
+ I like the Anglo-Saxon speech
+ With its direct revealings--
+ It takes a hold and seems to reach
+ Way down into your feelings;
+ That some folk deem it rude, I know,
+ And therefore they abuse it;
+ But I have never found it so--
+ Before all else I choose it.
+ I don't object that men should air
+ The Gallic they have paid for--
+ With "au revoir," "adieu, ma chere"--
+ For that's what French was made for--
+ But when a crony takes your hand
+ At parting to address you,
+ He drops all foreign lingo and
+ He says: "Good-by--God bless you!"
+
+ This seems to me a sacred phrase
+ With reverence impassioned--
+ A thing come down from righteous days,
+ Quaintly but nobly fashioned;
+ It well becomes an honest face--
+ A voice that's round and cheerful;
+ It stays the sturdy in his place
+ And soothes the weak and fearful.
+ Into the porches of the ears
+ It steals with subtle unction
+ And in your heart of hearts appears
+ To work its gracious function;
+ And all day long with pleasing song
+ It lingers to caress you--
+ I'm sure no human heart goes wrong
+ That's told "Good-by--God bless you!"
+
+ I love the words--perhaps because,
+ When I was leaving mother,
+ Standing at last in solemn pause
+ We looked at one another,
+ And--I saw in mother's eyes
+ The love she could not tell me--
+ A love eternal as the skies,
+ Whatever fate befell me;
+ She put her arms about my neck
+ And soothed the pain of leaving,
+ And, though her heart was like to break,
+ She spoke no word of grieving;
+ She let no tear bedim her eye,
+ For fear _that_ might distress me,
+ But, kissing me, she said good-by
+ And asked her God to bless me.
+
+
+
+
+HORACE.
+
+(Epode XIV.)
+
+
+ You ask me, friend,
+ Why I don't send
+ The long since due-and-paid-for numbers--
+ Why, songless, I
+ As drunken lie
+ Abandoned to Lethaean slumbers.
+
+ Long time ago
+ (As well you know)
+ I started in upon that carmen;
+ My work was vain--
+ But why complain?
+ When gods forbid, how helpless are men!
+
+ Some ages back,
+ The sage Anack
+ Courted a frisky Samian body,
+ Singing her praise
+ In metered phrase
+ As flowing as his bowls of toddy.
+
+ 'Till I was hoarse
+ Might I discourse
+ Upon the cruelties of Venus--
+ 'Twere waste of time
+ As well of rhyme,
+ For you've been there yourself, Maecenas!
+
+ Perfect your bliss,
+ If some fair miss
+ Love you yourself and _not_ your minae;
+ I, fortune's sport,
+ All vainly court
+ The beauteous, polyandrous Phryne!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 23.
+
+
+ Chloe, you shun me like a hind
+ That, seeking vainly for her mother,
+ Hears danger in each breath of wind
+ And wildly darts this way and t'other.
+
+ Whether the breezes sway the wood
+ Or lizards scuttle through the brambles,
+ She starts, and off, as though pursued,
+ The foolish, frightened creature scrambles.
+
+ But, Chloe, you're no infant thing
+ That should esteem a man an ogre--
+ Let go your mother's apron-string
+ And pin your faith upon a toga!
+
+
+
+
+A PARAPHRASE.
+
+
+ How happens it, my cruel miss,
+ You're always giving me the mitten?
+ You seem to have forgotten this:
+ That you no longer are a kitten!
+
+ A woman that has reached the years
+ Of that which people call discretion
+ Should put aside all childish fears
+ And see in courtship no transgression.
+
+ A mother's solace may be sweet,
+ But Hymen's tenderness is sweeter,
+ And though all virile love be meet,
+ You'll find the poet's love is metre.
+
+
+
+
+A PARAPHRASE BY CHAUCER.
+
+
+ Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken,
+ Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken;
+ Like as a lyttel deere you been y-hiding
+ Whenas come lovers with theyre pityse chiding,
+ Sothly it ben faire to give up your moder
+ For to beare swete company with some oder;
+ Your moder ben well enow so farre shee goeth,
+ But that ben not farre enow, God knoweth;
+ Wherefore it ben sayed that foolysh ladyes
+ That marrye not shall leade an aype in Hayde;
+ But all that do with gode men wed full quicklye
+ When that they be on dead go to ye seints full sickerly.
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 5.
+
+
+ What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah,
+ With smiles for diet,
+ Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha,
+ On the quiet?
+ For whom do you bind up your tresses,
+ As spun-gold yellow--
+ Meshes that go with your caresses,
+ To snare a fellow?
+
+ How will he rail at fate capricious,
+ And curse you duly;
+ Yet now he deems your wiles delicious--
+ _You_ perfect truly!
+ Pyrrha, your love's a treacherous ocean--
+ He'll soon fall in there!
+ Then shall I gloat on his commotion,
+ For _I_ have been there!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 20.
+
+
+ Than you, O valued friend of mine!
+ A better patron non est--
+ Come, quaff my home-made Sabine wine--
+ You'll find it poor but honest.
+
+ I put it up that famous day
+ You patronized the ballet
+ And the public cheered you such a way
+ As shook your native valley.
+
+ Caecuban and the Calean brand
+ May elsewhere claim attention,
+ But I have none of these on hand--
+ For reasons I'll not mention.
+
+
+
+
+_ENVOY._
+
+
+ So come! though favors I bestow
+ Can not be called extensive,
+ Who better than my friend should know
+ That they're, at least, expensive!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE II, 7.
+
+
+ Pompey, what fortune gives you back
+ To the friends and the gods who love you--
+ Once more you stand in your native land,
+ With your native sky above you!
+ Ah, side by side, in years agone,
+ We've faced tempestuous weather,
+ And often quaffed
+ The genial draft
+ From an amphora together!
+
+ When honor at Phillippi fell
+ A pray to brutal passion,
+ I regret to say that my feet ran away
+ In swift Iambic fashion;
+ You were no poet-soldier born,
+ You staid, nor did you wince then--
+ Mercury came
+ To my help, which same
+ Has frequently saved me since then.
+
+ But now you're back, let's celebrate
+ In the good old way and classic--
+ Come, let us lard our skins with nard
+ And bedew our souls with Massic!
+ With fillets of green parsley leaves
+ Our foreheads shall be done up,
+ And with song shall we
+ Protract our spree
+ Until the morrow's sun-up.
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 11.
+
+
+ Seek not, Lucome, to know how long you're going to live yet--
+ What boons the gods will yet withhold, or what they're going to give
+ yet;
+ For Jupiter will have his way, despite how much we worry--
+ Some will hang on for many a day and some die in a hurry,
+ The wisest thing for you to do is to embark this diem
+ Upon a merry escapade with some such bard as I am;
+ And while we sport, I'll reel you off such odes as shall surprise ye--
+ To-morrow, when the headache comes--well, then I'll satirize ye!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 13.
+
+
+ When, Lydia, you (once fond and true,
+ But now grown cold and supercilious)
+ Praise Telly's charms of neck and arms--
+ Well, by the dog! it makes me bilious!
+
+ Then, with despite, my cheeks wax white,
+ My doddering brain gets weak and giddy,
+ My eyes o'erflow with tears which show
+ That passion melts my vitals, Liddy!
+
+ Deny, false jade, your escapade,
+ And, lo! your wounded shoulders show it!
+ No manly spark left such a mark--
+ (Leastwise he surely was no poet!)
+
+ With savage buss did Telephus
+ Abraid your lips, so plump and mellow--
+ As you would save what Venus gave,
+ I charge you shun that awkward fellow!
+
+ And now I say thrice happy they
+ That call on Hymen to requite 'em;
+ For, though love cools, the wedded fools
+ Must cleave 'till death doth disunite 'em!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE IV, 1.
+
+
+ O Mother Venus, quit, I pray,
+ Your violent assailing;
+ The arts, forsooth, that fired my youth
+ At last are unavailing--
+ My blood runs cold--I'm getting old
+ And all my powers are failing!
+
+ Speed thou upon thy white swan's wings
+ And elsewhere deign to mellow
+ With my soft arts the anguished hearts
+ Of swain that writhe and bellow;
+ And right away, seek out, I pray,
+ Young Paullus--he's your fellow.
+
+ You'll find young Paullus passing fate,
+ Modest, refined, and toney--
+ Go, now, incite the favored wight!
+ With Venus for a crony.
+ He'll outshine all at feast and ball
+ And conversazione!
+
+ Then shall that godlike nose of thine
+ With perfumes be requited,
+ And then shall prance in Salian dance
+ The girls and boys delighted,
+ And, while the lute blends with the flute,
+ Shall tender loves be blighted.
+
+ But as for me--as you can see--
+ I'm getting old and spiteful;
+ I have no mind to female kind
+ That once I deemed delightful--
+ No more brim up the festive cup
+ That sent me home at night full.
+
+ Why do I falter in my speech,
+ O cruel Ligurine?
+ Why do I chase from place to place
+ In weather wet and shiny?
+ Why down my nose forever flows
+ The tear that's cold and briny?
+
+
+
+
+HORACE TO HIS PATRON.
+
+
+ Maecenas, you're of noble line--
+ (Of which the proof convincing
+ Is that you buy me all my wine
+ Without so much as wincing.)
+
+ To different men of different minds
+ Come different kinds of pleasure;
+ There's Marshall Field--what joy he finds
+ In shears and cloth-yard measure!
+
+ With joy Prof. Swing is filled
+ While preaching godly sermons;
+ With bliss is Hobart Taylor thrilled
+ When he is leading germans.
+
+ While Uncle Joe Medill prefers
+ To run a daily paper,
+ To Walter Gresham it occurs
+ That law's the proper caper.
+
+ With comedy a winning card,
+ How blithe is Richard Hooley;
+ Per contra, making soap and lard,
+ Rejoices Fairbank duly.
+
+ While Armour in the sugar ham
+ His summum bonum reaches,
+ MacVeagh's as happy as a clam
+ In canning pears and peaches.
+
+ Let Farwell glory in the fray
+ Which party hate increases--
+ His son-in-law delights to play
+ Gavottes and such like pieces.
+
+ So each betakes him to his task--
+ So each his hobby nurses--
+ While I--well, all the boon I ask
+ Is leave to write my verses.
+
+ Give, give that precious boon to me
+ And I shall envy no man;
+ If not the noblest I shall be
+ At least the happiest Roman!
+
+
+
+
+THE "ARS POETICA" OF HORACE--XVIII.
+
+(Lines 323-333.)
+
+
+ The Greeks had genius--'twas a gift
+ The Muse vouchsafed in glorious measure;
+ The boon of Fame they made their aim
+ And prized above all worldly treasure.
+
+ But _we_--how do we train _our_ youth?
+ _Not_ in the arts that are immortal,
+ But in the greed for gains that speed
+ From him who stands at Death's dark portal.
+
+ Ah, when this slavish love of gold
+ Once binds the soul in greasy fetters,
+ How prostrate lies--how droops and dies
+ The great, the noble cause of letters!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 34.
+
+
+ I have not worshiped God, my King--
+ Folly has led my heart astray;
+ Backward I turn my course to learn
+ The wisdom of a wiser way.
+
+ How marvelous is God, the King!
+ How do His lightnings cleave the sky--
+ His thundering car spreads fear afar,
+ And even hell is quaked thereby!
+
+ Omnipotent is God, our King!
+ There is no thought He hath not read,
+ And many a crown His hand plucks down
+ To place it on a worthier head!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 33.
+
+
+ Not to lament that rival flame
+ Wherewith the heartless Glycera scorns you,
+ Nor waste your time in maudlin rhyme,
+ How many a modern instance warns you.
+
+ Fair-browed Lycoris pines away
+ Because her Cyrus loves another;
+ The ruthless churl informs the girl
+ He loves her only as a brother.
+
+ For he, in turn, courts Pholoe--
+ A maid unscotched of love's fierce virus--
+ Why, goats will mate with wolves they hate
+ Ere Pholoe will mate with Cyrus!
+
+ Ah, weak and hapless human hearts--
+ By cruel Mother Venus fated
+ To spend this life in hopeless strife,
+ Because incongruously mated!
+
+ Such torture, Albius, is my lot;
+ For, though a better mistress wooed me,
+ My Myrtale has captured me
+ And with her cruelties subdued me!
+
+
+
+
+THE "ARS POETICA" OF HORACE--I.
+
+(Lines 1-23.)
+
+
+ Should painters attach to a fair human head
+ The thick, turgid neck of a stallion,
+ Or depict a spruce lass with the tail of a bass--
+ I am sure you would guy the rapscallion!
+
+ Believe me, dear Pisos, that such a freak
+ Is the crude and preposterous poem
+ Which merely abounds in a torrent of sounds
+ With no depth of reason below 'em.
+
+ 'Tis all very well to give license to art--
+ The wisdom of license defend I;
+ But the line should be drawn at the fripperish sprawn
+ Of a mere cacoethes scribendi.
+
+ It is too much the fashion to strain at effects--
+ Yes, that's what's the matter with Hannah!
+ Our popular taste by the tyros debased
+ Paints each barnyard a grove of Diana!
+
+ Should a patron require you to paint a marine,
+ Would you work in some trees with their barks on?
+ When his strict orders are for a Japanese jar,
+ Would you give him a pitcher like Clarkson?
+
+ Now this is my moral: Compose what you may,
+ And fame will be ever far distant,
+ Unless you combine with a simple design
+ A treatment in toto consistent.
+
+
+
+
+THE GREAT JOURNALIST IN SPAIN.
+
+
+ Good Editor Dana--God bless him, we say!
+ Will soon be afloat on the main,
+ Will be steaming away
+ Through the mist and the spray
+ To the sensuous climate of Spain.
+
+ Strange sights shall he see in that beautiful land
+ Which is famed for its soap and Moor,
+ For, as we understand,
+ The scenery is grand,
+ Though the system of railway is poor.
+
+ For moonlight of silver and sunlight of gold
+ Glint the orchards of lemons and mangoes,
+ And the ladies, we're told,
+ Are a joy to behold
+ As they twine in their lissome fandangoes.
+
+ What though our friend Dana shall twang a guitar
+ And murmur a passionate strain--
+ Oh, fairer by far
+ Than these ravishments are
+ The castles abounding in Spain!
+
+ These castles are built as the builder may list--
+ They are sometimes of marble or stone,
+ But they mostly consist
+ Of east wind and mist
+ With an ivy of froth overgrown.
+
+ A beautiful castle our Dana shall raise
+ On a futile foundation of hope,
+ And its glories shall blaze
+ In the somnolent haze
+ Of the mythical lake del y Soap.
+
+ The fragrance of sunflowers shall swoon on the air,
+ And the visions of dreamland obtain,
+ And the song of "World's Fair"
+ Shall be heard everywhere
+ Through that beautiful castle in Spain.
+
+
+
+
+REID, THE CANDIDATE.
+
+
+ I saw a brave compositor
+ Go hustling o'er the mead,
+ Who bore a banner with these words:
+ "Hurrah for Whitelaw Reid!"
+
+ "Where go you, brother slug," I asked,
+ "With such unusual speed?"
+ He quoth: "I go to dump my vote
+ For gallant Whitelaw Reid!"
+
+ "But what has Whitelaw done," I asked,
+ "That now he should succeed?"
+ Said he: "The stanchest, truest friend
+ We have is Whitelaw Reid!
+
+ "There are no terms we can suggest
+ That he will not concede;
+ He is converted to our faith,
+ Is gallant Whitelaw Reid!
+
+ "The union it must be preserved--
+ That is this convert's creed,
+ And that is why we're whooping up
+ The cause of Whitelaw Reid!"
+
+ "If what you say of him be sooth,
+ You have a friend indeed,
+ So go on your winding way," quoth I,
+ "And whoop for Whitelaw Reid!"
+
+ So on unto the polls I saw
+ That printer straight proceed
+ While other printers swarmed in swarms
+ To vote for Whitelaw Reid.
+
+
+
+
+A VALENTINE.
+
+
+ Four little sisters standing in a row--
+ Which of them I love best I really do not know.
+ Sometimes it is the sister dressed out so fine in blue,
+ And sometimes she who flaunts the beauteous robe of emerald hue;
+ Sometimes for her who wears the brown my tender heart has bled,
+ And then again I am consumed of love for her in red.
+ So now I think I'll send this valentine unto the four--
+ I love them all so very much--how could a man do more?
+
+
+
+
+KISSING-TIME.
+
+
+ 'Tis when the lark goes soaring,
+ And the bee is at the bud,
+ When lightly dancing zephyrs
+ Sing over field and flood;
+ When all sweet things in Nature
+ Seem joyfully a-chime--
+ 'Tis then I wake my darling,
+ For it is kissing-time!
+
+ Go, pretty lark, a-soaring,
+ And suck your sweets, O bee;
+ Sing, O ye winds of summer,
+ Your songs to mine and me.
+ For with your song and rapture
+ Cometh the moment when
+ It is half-past kissing-time
+ And time to kiss again!
+
+ So--so the days go fleeting
+ Like golden fancies free,
+ And every day that cometh
+ Is full of sweets for me;
+ And sweetest are those moments
+ My darling comes to climb
+ Into my lap to mind me
+ That it is kissing-time.
+
+ Sometimes, may be, he wanders
+ A heedless, aimless way--
+ Sometimes, may be, he loiters
+ In pretty, prattling play;
+ But presently bethinks him
+ And hastens to me then,
+ For it's half-past kissing time
+ And time to kiss again!
+
+
+
+
+THE FIFTH OF JULY.
+
+
+ The sun climbs up, but still the tyrant Sleep
+ Holds fast our baby boy in his embrace;
+ The slumb'rer sighs, anon athwart his face
+ Faint, half-suggested frowns like shadows creep,
+ One little hand lies listless on his breast,
+ One little thumb sticks up with mute appeal,
+ While motley burns and powder marks reveal
+ The fruits of boyhood's patriotic zest.
+
+ Our baby's faithful poodle crouches near--
+ He, too, is weary of the din and play
+ That come with glorious Independence Day,
+ But which, thank God! come only once a year!
+ And Fido, too, has suffered in this cause,
+ Which once a year right noisily obtains,
+ For Fido's tail--or what thereof remains--
+ Is not so fair a sight as once it was.
+
+
+
+
+PICNIC-TIME.
+
+
+ It's June agin, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
+ That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;
+ For, every June, the Sunday schools at picnics may be seen,
+ Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin'
+ green."
+ Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs an' ants,
+ An' little boys get grass-stains on their go-to-meetin' pants.
+ It's June agin, an' with it all what happiness is mine--
+ There's goin' to be a picnic an' I'm goin' to jine!
+
+ One year I jined the Baptists, an' goodness! how it rained!
+ (But grampa says that that's the way "Baptizo" is explained.)
+ And once I jined the 'piscopils an' had a heap o' fun--
+ But the boss of all the picnics was the Presbyterium!
+ They had so many puddin's, sallids, sandwidges an' pies,
+ That a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyes!
+ Oh, yes, the eatin' Presbyteriums give yer is so fine
+ That when _they_ have a picnic, you bet _I'm_ goin' to jine!
+
+ But at this time the Methodists have special claims on me,
+ For they're goin' to give a picnic on the 21st, D. V.;
+ Why should a liberal Universalist like me object
+ To share the joys of fellowship with every friendly sect?
+ However het'rodox their articles of faith elsewise may be,
+ Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin' grace to me!
+ So on the 21st of June, the weather bein' fine,
+ They're goin' to give a picnic, and I'm goin' to jine!
+
+
+
+
+THE ROMANCE OF A WATCH.
+
+
+ One day his father said to John:
+ "Come here and see what I hev bought---
+ A Waterbury watch, my son--
+ It is the boon you long hev sought!"
+
+ The boy could scarcely believe his eyes--
+ The watch was shiny, smooth an' slick--
+ He snatched the nickel-plated prize
+ An' wound away to hear it tick.
+
+ He wound an' wound, an' wound an' wound,
+ An' kept a windin' fit to kill--
+ The weeks an' months an' years rolled round,
+ But John he kep' a windin', still!
+
+ As autumns came an' winters went
+ An' summers follered arter spring,
+ John didn't mind--he was intent
+ On windin' up that darned ol' thing.
+
+ He got to be a poor ol' man--
+ He's bald an' deaf an' blind an' lame,
+ But, like he did when he began,
+ He keeps on windin', jest the same!
+
+
+
+
+OUR BABY.
+
+
+ 'Tis very strange, but quite as true,
+ That when our Baby smiles
+ Our club gets walloped black and blue
+ In all the latest styles;
+ But when our Baby's hopping mad
+ It's quite the other way--
+ Chicago beats the Yankees bad
+ When Baby doesn't play.
+
+ When baby stands upon his base,
+ Just after having kicked,
+ Upon his Scandinavian face
+ Appears the legend, "Licked";
+ But when he orders out a sub,
+ We well may hip-hooray--
+ Chicago has the winning club
+ When Baby doesn't play.
+
+ But, if our Baby's getting old,
+ And stiff, and cross, and vain,
+ And if his days are nearly told,
+ Oh, let us not complain.
+ Let's rather think of what he was
+ And how he's made it pay
+ To hire the kids that win because
+ Our Baby doesn't play.
+
+
+
+
+THE COLOR THAT SUITS ME BEST.
+
+
+ Any color--so long as it's red--
+ Is the color that suits me best,
+ Though I will allow there is much to be said
+ For yellow and green and the rest;
+ But the feeble tints, which some affect
+ In the things they make or buy,
+ Have never (I say it with all respect)
+ Appealed to my critical eye.
+
+ There's that in red that warmeth the blood
+ And quickeneth a man within,
+ And bringeth to speedy and perfect bud
+ The germs of original sin;
+ So, though I am properly born and bred,
+ I'll own, with a certain zest,
+ That any color--so long as it's red--
+ Is the color that suits me best!
+
+ For where is a color that can be compared
+ With the blush of a buxom lass--
+ Or where such warmth as of the hair
+ Of the genuine white horse class?
+ And, lo, reflected in this cup
+ Of cherry Bordeaux I see
+ What inspiration girdeth me up--
+ Yes, red is the color for me!
+
+ Through acres and acres of art I've strayed
+ In Italy, Germany, France;
+ On many a picture a master has made
+ I've squandered a passing glance;
+ Marines I hate, madonnas and
+ Those Dutch freaks I detest!
+ But the peerless daubs of my native land--
+ They're red, and I like them best!
+
+ 'Tis little I care how folks deride--
+ I'm backed by the west, at least,
+ And we are free to say that we can't abide
+ The tastes that obtain down east;
+ And we are mighty proud to have it said
+ That here in the critical west,
+ Most any color--so long as it's red--
+ Is the color that suits us best!
+
+
+
+
+HOW TO "FILL."
+
+
+It is understood that our esteemed Col. Franc B. Wilkie is going to
+formulate a reply to Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox's latest poem, which
+begins as follows:
+
+ "I hold it as a changeless law
+ From which no soul can sway or swerve,
+ We have that in us which will draw
+ Whate'er we need or most deserve."
+
+We fancy the genial colonel will start off with some such quatrain as
+this:
+
+ "I fain would have your recipe,
+ If you'll but give the snap away;
+ Now when four clubs are dealt to me,
+ How may I draw another, pray?"
+
+
+
+
+POLITICS IN 1888.
+
+
+The Cleveland Leader must be getting ready for the campaign of 1888. We
+find upon its editorial page quite a pretentious poem, entitled "Alpha
+and Omega," and here is a sample stanza:
+
+ "Whose name will stand for coming time
+ As hypocrites in prose and rhyme,
+ And be despised in every clime?
+ The Mugwumps."
+
+Well, may be so, but may we be permitted to add a stanza which seems to
+us to be very pertinent just now?
+
+ And who next year, we'd like to know,
+ Will feed the Cleveland Leader crow,
+ Just as they did three years ago?
+ The Mugwumps.
+
+
+
+
+THE BASEBALL SCORE.
+
+
+ A boy came racing down the street
+ In a most tumultuous way,
+ And he hollered at all he chanced to meet:
+ "Hooray, hooray, hooray!"
+ His eyes and his breath were hot with joy
+ And his cheeks were all aflame--
+ 'Twas a rare event with the little boy
+ When the champions won a game!
+
+ "Twenty to 6" and "10 to 2"
+ Were rather dismal scores,
+ And they wreathed in a somewhat somber hue
+ These classic western shores;
+ We shuddered and winced at the cruel sport
+ And our heads were bowed in shame
+ 'Till Somewhere sent us the glad report
+ That the champions won the game!
+
+ Our Baby says it'll be all right
+ For the champions by and by,
+ And the twin emotions of Hope and Fright
+ Gleam in his cod fish eye;
+ And Spalding says (in his modest way)
+ That we'll get there all the same;
+ So let us holler, "Hooray, hooray,"
+ When the champions win the game.
+
+
+
+
+CHICAGO NEWSPAPER LIFE.
+
+
+It pleases us to observe that the shocking habit of hurling opprobrious
+epithets at each other has been abandoned by the venerable editor of the
+Journal and the venerable editor of the Tribune. At this moment we are
+reminded of the inspired lines of the eminent but now, alas! neglected
+Watts:
+
+ "Birds in their nests agree,
+ And 'tis a shocking sight
+ When folks, who should harmonious be,
+ Fall out and chide and fight.
+
+ "The tones of Andy and of Joe
+ Should join in friendly games--
+ Not be debased to vice so low
+ As that of calling names.
+
+ "Bad names and naughty names require
+ To be chastized at school,
+ But he's in danger of hell-fire
+ Who talks of 'crank' and 'fool.'
+
+ "Oh 'tis a dreadful thing to see
+ The old folks smite and jaw,
+ But pleasant it is to agree
+ On the election law.
+
+ "Let Joe and Andy leave their wrongs
+ For sinners to contest;
+ So shall they some time swell the songs
+ Of Israel's ransomed blest."
+
+
+
+
+THE MIGHTY WEST.
+
+
+ Oh, where abides the fond kazoo,
+ The barrel-organ fair,
+ And where is heard the tra-la-loo
+ Of fish horns on the air?
+ And where are found the fife and drum
+ Discoursed with goodliest zest?
+ And where do fiddles liveliest hum?
+ The west--the mighty west!
+
+ Sonatas, fugues, and all o' that
+ Are rightly judged effete,
+ While largos written in B-flat
+ Are clearly out of date;
+ Some like the cold pianny-forty,
+ But whistling suits us best--
+ And op'ry, if it isn't naughty,
+ Will not catch on out west.
+
+ From skinning hogs or canning beef
+ Or diving into stocks,
+ Could we expect to find relief
+ In Haydns or in Bachs?
+ Ah, no; from pork and wheat and lard
+ We turn aside with zest
+ To sing some opus of some bard
+ Whose home is in the west.
+
+ So get ye gone, ye weakling crew!
+ Your tunes are stale and flat,
+ And cannot hold a candle to
+ The works of Silas Pratt!
+ His opuses are in demand
+ And are the final test
+ By which all others fall or stand
+ In this the mighty west!
+
+
+
+
+APRIL.
+
+
+ Now April with sweet showers of freshening rain
+ Has roused last summer's vigorous breath once more;
+ 'Tis in the air, the house, the street, the lane--
+ Puffs through the walls and oozes through the floor.
+
+ The rau-cous-throated frog ayont the sty
+ Sends forth, as erst, his amerous vermal croak,
+ Each hungry mooly casts her swivel eye
+ For pots and pails in which her nose to poke.
+
+ With gurgling glee the gutter gushes by,
+ Fraught all with filth, unknown and nameless dirt--
+ A dead green goose, an o'er-ripe rat I spy;
+ Head of a cat, tail of a flannel shirt.
+
+ The querulous cry of every gabbling goose
+ From thousand-scented mudholes echoes o'er;
+ The dogs and yawling cats have gotten loose
+ And mock the hideous howls of hell once more.
+
+ By yon scrub oak, where roots the sallow sow,
+ In where John Murphy's wife outpours her slop;
+ Right there you'll find there's almost stench now
+ To cause the world its nostrils to estop.
+
+ And yonder dauntless goat that bank adown,
+ That wreathes his old fantastic horns so high,
+ Gnaws sadly on the bustle of Miss Brown,
+ Which she discarded in the months gone by.
+
+ So in Goose Island cometh April round;
+ Full eagerly we watch the month's approach--
+ The season of sweet sight and pleasant sound,
+ The season of the bedbug and the roach.
+
+
+
+
+REPORT OF THE BASEBALL GAME.
+
+
+ It was a very pleasant game,
+ And there was naught of grumbling
+ Until the baleful tidings came
+ That Williamson was "fumbling."
+ Then all at once a hideous gloom
+ Fell o'er all manly features,
+ And Clayton's cozy, quiet room
+ Was full of frantic creatures.
+
+ "Click, click," the tiny ticker went,
+ The tape began to rattle,
+ And pallid, eager faces bent
+ To read the news from battle;
+ Down, down, ten million feet or more,
+ Chicago's hope went tumbling,
+ When came the word that Burns and Gore
+ And Pfeffer, too, were "fumbling."
+
+ No diagram was needed then
+ To point the Browns to glory--
+ The simple fact that these four men
+ Were "fumbling" told the story.
+ There is not a club in all the land--
+ No odds how weak or humble--
+ That beats us when our short-stop and
+ Our second baseman "fumble."
+
+ There was some talk of hippodrome
+ 'Mid frequent calls for liquor,
+ Then each Chicago man went home
+ Much wiser, poorer, sicker;
+ And many a giant intellect
+ Seemed slowly, surely crumbling
+ Beneath the dolorous effect
+ Of that St. Louis "fumbling."
+
+ Ah, well, the struggle's but just begun,
+ So what is the use of fretting
+ If by a little harmless fun
+ Our boys can bull the betting?
+ When comes the tug of war there'll be
+ No accidental stumbling,
+ And then, you bet your boots, you'll see
+ No mention made of "fumbling."
+
+
+
+
+THE ROSE.
+
+
+ Since the days of old Adam the welkin has rung
+ With the praises of sweet scented posies,
+ And poets in rapturous phrases have sung
+ The paramount beauties of roses.
+
+ Wheresoever she bides, whether nestling in lanes
+ Or gracing the proud urban bowers,
+ The red, royal rose her distinction maintains
+ As the one regnant queen among flowers.
+
+ How joyous are we of the west when we find
+ That Fate, with her gifts ever chary,
+ Has decreed that the Rose, who is queen of her kind
+ Shall bloom on our wild western prairie.
+
+ Let us laugh at the east as an impotent thing
+ With envy and jealously crazy,
+ While grateful Chicago is happy to sing
+ In the praise of the rose--she's a daisy.
+
+
+
+
+KANSAS CITY VS. DETROIT.
+
+
+ A rooster flapped his wings and crowed
+ A merrysome cockadoodledoo,
+ As out of the west a cowboy rode
+ To the land where the peach and the clapboard grew,
+ Humming a gentle tralalaloo.
+
+ "O insect with the gilded wing,"
+ The cowboy cried, "Pray tell me true
+ Why do you crane your neck and sing
+ That wearisome cockadoodledoo?
+ Would you like to learn the tralalaloo?"
+
+ Now the rooster squawked an impudent word
+ Whereat the angered cowboy threw
+ His lariat at the haughty bird
+ And choked him until his gills were blue
+ And his eyes hung out an inch or two.
+
+ "Now hear _me_ sing," the cowboy cried;
+ "It ain't no cockadoodledoo--
+ It's a song we sing on the prairies wide--
+ The simple song of tralalaloo,
+ Which is cowboy slang for 12 to 2."
+
+
+
+
+ME AND BILKAMMLE.
+
+
+ I will, if you choose,
+ Impart you some news
+ That will greatly astound you, I know;
+ You would never suspect
+ My ambition was wreck'd
+ 'Till you heard my confession of woe.
+ 'Tis not that my boom
+ Has ascended the flume--
+ In other words, gone up the spout--
+ I could smile a sweet smile
+ This tempestuous while,
+ But me and Bilkammle are out!
+
+ Being timid and shrinkin',
+ He did all the thinkin',
+ When _I_ did the talkin' worth mention;
+ 'Twas my constant ambition
+ To soar to position
+ So I gave it exclusive attention;
+ And supposin' that he
+ Would of course be for me,
+ I rambled and prattled about
+ 'Till I found to my horror,
+ Vexation, and sorror,
+ That me and Bilkammle were out.
+
+ As I tore my red hair
+ In a fit of despair
+ I heard my Achates complain
+ That the gent with the coffer
+ Had nothing to offer
+ In the way of relieving his pain!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ If there's mortal to blame
+ For this villainous game
+ Which has snuffed a great man beyond doubt.
+ It's that treacherous mammal
+ Entitled Bilkammle--
+ Which accounts for us two bein' out!
+
+
+
+
+TO THE DETROIT BASEBALL CLUB.
+
+
+ You've scooped the vealy city crowd
+ Of glory and of purse--
+ Why shouldn't Pegasus be proud
+ To trot you out in a verse?
+ Chicago hoped to wallop you
+ By a tremendous score,
+ But bit off more than it could chew,
+ As witness: "5 to 4."
+
+ Well done, you 'Ganders! here's a hand
+ To every one of you;
+ These record-breakers of the land
+ Now break themselves in two.
+ Well get their pennant--it shall float
+ Upon our distant shore,
+ So let each patriotic throat
+ Hurrah for "5 to 4."
+
+
+
+
+A BALLAD OF ANCIENT OATHS.
+
+
+ Ther ben a knyght, Sir Hoten hight,
+ That on a time did swere
+ In mighty store othes mickle sore,
+ Whiche grieved his wiffe to here.
+
+ Soth, whenne she scoft, his wiffe did oft
+ Swere as a lady may;
+ "I'faith," "I'sooth," or "lawk" in truth
+ Ben alle that wiffe wold say.
+
+ Soe whenne her good man waxed him wood
+ She mervailed much to here
+ The hejeous sound of othes full round
+ The which her lord did swere.
+
+ "Now, pray thee, speke and tell me eke
+ What thing hath vexed thee soe?"
+ The wiffe she cried; but he replied
+ By swereing moe and moe.
+
+ Her sweren zounds which be Gog's wounds,
+ By bricht Marie and Gis,
+ By sweit Sanct Ann and holie Tan
+ And by Bryde's bell, ywis.
+
+ By holie grails, by 'slids and 'snails,
+ By old Sanct Dunstan bauld,
+ The virgin faire that him did beare,
+ By him that Judas sauld;
+
+ By Arthure's sword, by Paynim horde,
+ By holie modyr's teir,
+ By Cokis breath, by Zooks and 's death,
+ And by Sanct Swithen deir;
+
+ By divells alle, both greate and smalle,
+ And in hell there be,
+ By bread and salt, and by Gog's malt,
+ And by the blody tree;
+
+ By Him that worn the crown of thorn
+ And by the sun and mone,
+ By deir Sanct Blanc and Sanct Fillane,
+ And three kings of Cologne;
+
+ By the gude Lord and His sweit word,
+ By him that herryit hell,
+ By blessed Jude, by holie rude,
+ And eke be Gad himsell!
+
+ He sweren soe (and mickle moe)
+ It made man's flesch to creepen,
+ The air ben blue with his ado
+ And sore his wiffe ben wepen.
+
+ Giff you wold know why sweren soe
+ The goodman high Sir Hoten,
+ He ben full wroth, because, in soth,
+ He leesed his coler boten.
+
+
+
+
+AN OLD SONG REVISED.
+
+
+ John Hamilton, my Jo John,
+ When first we were acquaint
+ You were as lavish as could be
+ With your vermillion paint;
+ But now the head that once was red
+ Seems veiled in sable woe,
+ And clouds of gloom obscure your boom,
+ John Hamilton, my Jo.
+
+ Oh, was it Campbell's hatchet wrought
+ The ruin we deplore?
+ Or was it Abnor Taylor's thirst
+ For your abundant gore?
+ Or was it Hank's ambitious pranks
+ That laid our idol low?
+ Come, let us know how came you so,
+ John Hamilton, my Joe!
+
+ We pine to know the awful truth.
+ So, pray, be pleased to tell
+ The story--full of tragic fire--
+ How one great statesman fell;
+ How dives' hand stalked in the land
+ And dealt a crushing blow
+ At one proud name--which you're the same,
+ John Hamilton, my Jo!
+
+
+
+
+THE GRATEFUL PATIENT.
+
+
+ The doctor leaned tenderly over the bed
+ And looked at the patient 's complexion,
+ And felt of the pulse and the feverish head,
+ Then stood for a time in reflection.
+ "A strange complication!
+ My recommendation
+ Is morphia by hypodermic injection."
+
+ The patient looked up with a leer in his eye
+ And winked in the doctor's direction--
+ "Well, Doc," he remarked, "since you say I must die,
+ I'm grateful to you for protection--
+ I'm now in position
+ To ask the commission
+ T' excuse me from serving as judge of election."
+
+
+
+
+THE BEGINNING AND THE END.
+
+
+ Death
+ In my breath,
+ Cried I then:
+ "Men
+ Burn and blight!
+ Nourish crime!
+ Scale the height!
+ Climb, men, climb!
+ Climb and fight!
+ Win by might!
+ Wrong or right!
+ Blood!"
+
+ Well
+ In a cell
+ Here I am--
+ D----n!
+ From my flight
+ So sublime
+ I alight
+ Ere my time,
+ And in fright
+ Here I grope
+ Through the night
+ Without hope.
+ What a plight!
+ Ah, the rope!
+ Thud!
+
+
+
+
+CLARE MARKET.
+
+
+ In the market of Clare, so cheery the glare
+ Of the shops and the booths of the tradespeople there,
+ That I take a delight, on a Saturday night,
+ In walking that way and viewing the sight;
+ For it's here that one sees all the objects that please--
+ New patterns in silk and old patterns in cheese,
+ For the girls pretty toys, rude alarums for boys,
+ And baubles galore which discretion enjoys--
+ But here I forbear, for I really despair
+ Of naming the wealth of the market of Clare!
+
+ The rich man comes down from the elegant town,
+ And looks at it all with an ominous frown;
+ He seems to despise the grandiloquent cries
+ Of the vender proclaiming his puddings and pies;
+ And sniffing he goes through the lanes that disclose
+ Much cause for disgust to his sensitive nose;
+ Once free from the crowd, he admits that he is proud
+ That elsewhere in London this thing's not allowed--
+ He has seen nothing there but filth everywhere,
+ And he's glad to get out of the market of Clare.
+
+ But the child that has come from the neighboring slum
+ Is charmed by the magic of dazzle and hum;
+ He feasts his big eyes on the cakes and pies
+ And they seem to grow green and protrude with surprise
+ At the goodies they vend and the toys without end--
+ And it's oh if he had but a penny to spend!
+ But alas! he must gaze in a hopeless amaze
+ At treasures that glitter and torches that blaze--
+ What sense of despair in this world can compare
+ With that of the waif in the market of Clare?
+
+ So, on Saturday nights, when my custom invites
+ A stroll in old London for curious sights,
+ I am likely to stray by a devious way
+ Where goodies are spread in a motley array,
+ The things which some eyes would appear to despise
+ Impress me as pathos in homely disguise,
+ And my tattered waif friend shall have pennies to spend,
+ As long as I've got 'em (or friends that will lend);
+ And the urchin shall share in my joy and declare
+ That there's beauty and good in that marketplace there!
+
+
+
+
+UNCLE EPHRAIM.
+
+
+ My Uncle Ephraim was a man who did not live in vain,
+ And yet, why he succeeded so I never _could_ explain;
+ By nature he was not endowed with wit to a degree,
+ But folks allowed there nowhere lived a better man than he;
+ He started poor but soon got rich; he went to congress then,
+ And held that post of honor long against much brainier men;
+ He never made a famous speech or did a thing of note,
+ And yet the praise of Uncle Eph welled up from every throat.
+
+ I recollect I never heard him say a bitter word;
+ He never carried to and fro unpleasant things he heard;
+ He always doffed his hat and spoke to every one he knew,
+ He tipped to poor and rich alike a genial "how-dy'-do";
+ He kissed the babies, praised their looks, and said: "That child will
+ grow
+ To be a Daniel Webster or our president, I know!"
+ His voice was so mellifluous, his smile so full of mirth,
+ That folks declared he was the best and smartest man on earth!
+
+ Now, father was a _smarter_ man, and yet he never won
+ Such wealth and fame as Uncle Eph, "the deestrick's favorite son";
+ He had "convictions" and he was not loath to speak his mind--
+ He went his way and said his say as he might be inclined;
+ Yes, _he_ was brainy; yet his life was hardly a success--
+ He was too honest and too smart for this vain world, I guess!
+ At any rate, I wondered he was unsuccessful when
+ My Uncle Eph, a duller man, was so revered of men!
+
+ When Uncle Eph was dying he called me to his bed,
+ And in a tone of confidence inviolate he said:
+ "Dear Willyum, ere I seek repose in yonder blissful sphere
+ I fain would breathe a secret in your adolescent ear;
+ Strive not to hew your way through life--it really doesn't pay;
+ Be sure the salve of flattery soaps all you do and say!
+ Herein the only royal road to fame and fortune lies;
+ Put not your trust in vinegar--_molasses_ catches flies!"
+
+
+
+
+THIRTY-NINE.
+
+
+ O hapless day! O wretched day!
+ I hoped you'd pass me by--
+ Alas, the years have sneaked away
+ And all is changed but I!
+ Had I the power, I would remand
+ You to a gloom condign,
+ But here you've crept upon me and
+ I--I am thirty-nine!
+
+ Now, were I thirty-five, I could
+ Assume a flippant guise,
+ Or, were I forty years, I should
+ Undoubtedly look wise;
+ For forty years are said to bring
+ Sedateness superfine,
+ But thirty-nine don't mean a thing--
+ _A bas_ with thirty-nine!
+
+ You healthy, hulking girls and boys--
+ What makes you grow so fast?
+ Oh, I'll survive your lusty noise--
+ I'm tough and bound to last!
+ No, no--I'm old and withered, too--
+ I feel my powers decline.
+ (Yet none believes this can be true
+ Of one at thirty-nine.)
+
+ And you, dear girl with velvet eyes,
+ I wonder what you mean
+ Through all our keen anxieties
+ By keeping sweet sixteen.
+ With your dear love to warm my heart,
+ Wretch were I to repine--
+ I was but jesting at the start--
+ I'm glad I'm thirty-nine!
+
+ So, little children, roar and race
+ As blithely as you can
+ And, sweetheart, let your tender grace
+ Exalt the Day and Man;
+ For then these factors (I'll engage)
+ All subtly shall combine
+ To make both juvenile and sage
+ The one who's thirty-nine!
+
+ Yes, after all, I'm free to say
+ That I rejoice to be
+ Standing as I do stand to-day
+ 'Twixt devil and deep sea;
+ For, though my face be dark with care
+ Or with a grimace shine,
+ Each haply falls unto my share;
+ Since I am thirty-nine!
+
+ 'Tis passing meet to make good cheer
+ And lord it like a king,
+ Since only once we catch the year
+ That doesn't mean a thing.
+ O happy day! O gracious day!
+ I pledge thee in this wine--
+ Come let us journey on our way
+ A year, good Thirty-Nine!
+
+
+
+
+HORACE I, 18.
+
+
+ O Varus mine
+ Plant thou the vine
+ Within this kindly soil of Tibur;
+ Nor temporal woes
+ Nor spiritual knows
+ The man who's a discreet imbiber.
+ For who doth croak
+ Of being broke
+ Or who of warfare, after drinking?
+ With bowl atween us,
+ Of smiling Venus
+ And Bacchus shall we sing, I'm thinking.
+
+ Of symptoms fell
+ Which brawls impel
+ Historic data give us warning;
+ The wretch who fights
+ When full of nights
+ Is bound to have a head next morning.
+ I do not scorn
+ A friendly horn,
+ But noisy toots--I can't abide 'em!
+ Your howling bat
+ Is stale and flat
+ To one who knows, because he's tried 'em!
+
+ The secrets of
+ The life of love
+ (Companionship with girls and toddy)
+ I would not drag
+ With drunken brag
+ Into the ken of everybody,
+ But in the shade
+ Let some coy maid
+ With smilax wreathe my flagon's nozzle--
+ Then, all day long,
+ With mirth and song,
+ Shall I enjoy a quiet sozzle!
+
+
+
+
+THREE RHINELAND DRINKING SONGS.
+
+
+ I.
+
+ If our life is the life of a flower
+ (And that's what some sages are thinking),
+ We should moisten the bud with a health-giving flood
+ And 'twill bloom all the sweeter--
+ Yes, life's the completer
+ For drinking,
+ and drinking,
+ and drinking!
+
+ If it be that our life is a journey
+ (As many wise folks are opining),
+ We should sprinkle the way with the rain while we may;
+ Though dusty and dreary,
+ 'Tis made cool and cheery
+ With wining,
+ and wining,
+ and wining!
+
+ If this life that we live be a dreaming
+ (As pessimist people are thinking),
+ To induce pleasant dreams there is nothing, me seems,
+ Like this sweet prescription,
+ That baffles description--
+ This drinking,
+ and drinking,
+ and drinking!
+
+
+ II.
+
+ ("Fiducit.")
+
+ Three comrades on the German Rhine--
+ Defying care and weather--
+ Together quaffed the mellow wine
+ And sung their songs together,
+ What recked they of the griefs of life
+ With wine and song to cheer them?
+ Though elsewhere trouble might be rife,
+ It would not come anear them!
+
+ Anon one comrade passed away,
+ And presently another--
+ And yet unto the tryst each day
+ Repaired the lonely brother,
+ And still, as gayly as of old,
+ That third one, hero-hearted,
+ Filled to the brim each cup of gold
+ And called to the departed:
+
+ "O comrades mine, I see you not,
+ Nor hear your kindly greeting;
+ Yet in this old familiar spot
+ Be still our loving meeting!
+ Here have I filled each bouting cup
+ With juices red and cherry--
+ I pray ye drink the portion up,
+ And, as of old, make merry!"
+
+ And once before his tear-dimmed eyes,
+ All in the haunted gloaming,
+ He saw two ghostly figures rise
+ And quaff the beakers foaming;
+ He heard two spirit voices call:
+ "Fiducit, jovial brother!"
+ And so forever from that hall
+ Went they with one another.
+
+
+ III.
+
+ (Der Mann im Keller.)
+
+ How cool and fair this cellar where
+ My throne a dusky cask is!
+ To do no thing but just to sing
+ And drown the time my task is!
+ The cooper, he's
+ Resolved to please,
+ And, answering to my winking,
+ He fills me up
+ Cup after cup
+ For drinking, drinking, drinking.
+
+ Begrudge me not this cozy spot
+ In which I am reclining--
+ Why, who would burst with envious thirst
+ When he can live by wining?
+ A roseate hue seems to imbue
+ The world on which I'm blinking;
+ My fellow men--I love them when
+ I'm drinking, drinking, drinking.
+
+ And yet, I think, the more I drink,
+ It's more and more I pine for--
+ Oh such as I (forever dry!)
+ God made this land of Rhine for!
+ And there is bliss
+ In knowing this,
+ As to the floor I'm sinking;
+ I've wronged no man,
+ And never can,
+ While drinking, drinking, drinking!
+
+
+
+
+THE THREE TAILORS.
+
+(From the German of C. Herlossohn.)
+
+
+ I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time,
+ Three tailors tramped up to the Inn Ingleheim
+ On the Rhine--lovely Rhine;
+ They were broke, but, the worst of it all, they were curst
+ With that malady common to tailors--a thirst
+ For wine--lots of wine!
+
+ "Sweet host," quoth the three, "we're as hard up as can be,
+ Yet skilled in the practice of cunning are we
+ On the Rhine--genial Rhine;
+ And we pledge you we will impart you that skill
+ Right quickly and fully, providing you'll fill
+ Us with wine--cooling wine!"
+
+ But that host shook his head, and warily said:
+ "Though cunning be good, we take money instead,
+ On the Rhine--thrifty Rhine;
+ If ye fancy ye may without pelf have your way
+ You'll find there's both host and the devil to pay
+ For your wine--costly wine!"
+
+ Then the first knavish wight took his needle so bright
+ And threaded its eye with a wee ray of light
+ From the Rhine--sunny Rhine;
+ And in such a deft way patched a mirror that day
+ That where it was mended no expert could say--
+ Done so fine--'twas for wine!
+
+ The second thereat spied a poor little gnat
+ Go toiling along on his nose broad and flat
+ Toward the Rhine--pleasant Rhine;
+ "Aha, tiny friend, I should hate to offend,
+ But your stockings need darning," which same did he mend,
+ All for wine--soothing wine!
+
+ And next there occurred what you'll deem quite absurd--
+ His needle a space in the wall thrust the third,
+ By the Rhine--wondrous Rhine;
+ And then, all so spry, he leapt through the eye
+ Of that thin cambric needle; nay, think you I'd lie
+ About wine? Not for wine!
+
+ The landlord allowed (with a smile) he was proud
+ To do the fair thing by that talented crowd
+ On the Rhine--generous Rhine!
+ So a thimble filled he as full as could be;
+ "Drink long and drink hearty, my jolly guests three,
+ Of my wine--filling wine!"
+
+
+
+
+MORNING HYMN.
+
+
+ I'd dearly love to tear my hair
+ And romp around a bit,
+ For I am mad enough to swear
+ Since Brother Chauncy quit.
+
+ I am so vilely prone to sin--
+ Vain ribald that I am--
+ I'd take a hideous pleasure in
+ Just one prodigious "damn."
+
+ But shall I yield to Satan's wiles
+ And let my passions swell?
+ Nay, I will wreath my face in smiles,
+ And mock the powers of hell.
+
+ And howsoever pride may roll
+ Its billows through my frame,
+ I'll not condemn my precious soul
+ Unto the quenchless flame!
+
+ But rather will I humbly pray
+ Divinity to wash
+ From out my mouth such words away
+ As "Jiminy" and "Gosh."
+
+
+
+
+DOCTORS.
+
+
+ 'Tis quite the thing to say and sing
+ Gross libels on the doctor--
+ To picture him an ogre grim
+ Or humbug-pill concocter;
+ Yet it's in quite another light
+ My friendly pen would show him--
+ Glad that it might with verse repay
+ Some part of what I owe him!
+
+ When one's all right he's prone to spite
+ The doctor's peaceful mission;
+ But, when he's sick, it's loud and quick
+ He bawls for a physician!
+ With other things the doctor brings
+ Sweet babes our hearts to soften;
+ Though I have four, I pine for more--
+ Good doctor, pray, come often!
+
+ What though he sees death and disease
+ Run riot all around him,
+ Patient and true, and valorous, too--
+ Such have I always found him!
+ Where'er he goes he soothes our woes,
+ And, when skill's unavailing
+ And death is near, his words of cheer
+ Support our courage failing.
+
+ In ancient days they used to praise
+ The godlike art of healing;
+ An art that then engaged all men
+ Possessed of sense and feeling;
+ Why, Raleigh--he was glad to be
+ Famed for a quack elixir,
+ And Digby sold (as we are told)
+ A charm for folk love-sick, sir!
+
+ Napoleon knew a thing or two,
+ And clearly he was partial
+ To doctors, for, in time of war,
+ He chose one for marshal,
+ In our great cause a doctor was
+ The first to pass death's portal,
+ And Warren's name at once became
+ A beacon and immortal!
+
+ A heap, indeed, of what we read
+ By doctors is provided,
+ For to those groves Apollo loves
+ Their leaning is decided;
+ Deny who may that Rabelais
+ Is first in wit and learning--
+ And yet all smile and marvel while
+ His brilliant leaves they're turning.
+
+ How Lever's pen has charmed all men--
+ How touching Rab's short story!
+ And I will stake my all that Drake
+ Is still the schoolboy's glory!
+ A doctor-man it was began
+ Great Britain's great museum;
+ The treasures there are all so rare,
+ It drives me wild to see 'em!
+
+ There's Cuvier, Parr and Rush--they are
+ Big monuments to learning;
+ To Mitchell's prose (how smooth it flows!)
+ We all are fondly turning;
+ Tomes might be writ of that keen wit
+ Which Abernethy's famed for--
+ With bread-crumb pills he cured the ills
+ Most doctors get blamed for!
+
+ In modern times the noble rhymes
+ Of Holmes (a great physician!)
+ Have solace brought and wisdom taught
+ To hearts of all conditions.
+ The sailor bound for Puget sound
+ Finds pleasure still unfailing,
+ If he but troll the barcarole
+ Old Osborne wrote on Whaling!
+
+ If there were need I could proceed
+ Ad naus, with this prescription,
+ But, inter nos, a larger dose
+ Might give you fits conniption;
+ Yet, ere I end, there's one dear friend
+ I'd hold before these others,
+ For he and I in years gone by,
+ Have chummed around like brothers.
+
+ Together we have sung in glee
+ The songs old Horace made for
+ Our genial craft--together quaffed
+ What bowls that doctor paid for!
+ I love the rest, but love him best,
+ And, were not times so pressing,
+ I'd buy and send--you smile, old friend?
+ Well, then, here goes my blessing.
+
+
+
+
+BEN APFELGARTEN.
+
+
+ There was a certain gentleman, Ben Apfelgarten called,
+ Who lived way off in Germany a many years ago,
+ And he was very fortunate in being very bald,
+ And so was very happy he was so.
+ He warbled all the day
+ Such songs as only they
+ Who are very, very circumspect and very happy may;
+ The people wondered why,
+ As the years went grinding by,
+ They never heard him once complain or even heave a sigh!
+
+ The women of the province fell in love with genial Ben,
+ Till (maybe you can fancy it) the dickens was to pay
+ Among the callow students and the sober-minded men--
+ With the women folk a-cuttin' up that way!
+ Why, they gave him turbans red
+ To adorn his hairless head,
+ And knitted jaunty nightcaps to protect him when abed!
+ In vain the rest demurred--
+ Not a single chiding word
+ Those ladies deigned to tolerate--remonstrance was absurd!
+
+ Things finally got into such a very dreadful way
+ That the others (oh, how artful!) formed the politic design
+ To send him to the reichstag; so, one dull November day
+ They elected him a member from the Rhine!
+ Then the other members said:
+ "Gott in Himmel; what a head!"
+ But they marveled when his speeches they listened to or read;
+ And presently they cried:
+ "There must be heaps inside
+ Of the smooth and shiny cranium his constituents deride!"
+
+ Well, when at last he up 'nd died--long past his ninetieth year--
+ The strangest and the most luguberous funeral he had,
+ For women came in multitudes to weep upon his bier--
+ The men all wond'ring why on earth the women had gone mad!
+ And this wonderment increased,
+ Till the sympathetic priest
+ Inquired of those same ladies: "Why this fuss about deceased?"
+ Whereupon they were appalled,
+ For, as one, those women squalled:
+ "We doted on deceased for being bald--bald--bald!"
+
+ He was bald because his genius burnt that shock of hair away,
+ Which, elsewise, clogs one's keenness and activity of mind,
+ And (barring present company, of course,) I'm free to say
+ That, after all, it's intellect that captures woman-kind.
+ At any rate, since then
+ (With a precedent in Ben),
+ The women-folk have been in love with us bald-headed men!
+
+
+
+
+IN HOLLAND.
+
+
+ Our course lay up a smooth canal
+ Through tracks of velvet green,
+ And through the shade that windmills made,
+ And pasture lands between.
+ The kine had canvas on their backs
+ To temper Autumn's spite,
+ And everywhere there was an air
+ Of comfort and delight.
+
+ My wife, dear philosophic soul!
+ Saw here whereof to prate:
+ "Vain fools are we across the sea
+ To boast our nobler state!
+ Go north or south or east or west,
+ Or wheresoever you please,
+ You shall not find what's here combined--
+ Equality and ease!
+
+ "How tidy are these honest homes
+ In every part and nook--
+ The men folk wear a prosperous air,
+ The women happy look.
+ Seeing the peace that smiles around,
+ I would our land was such--
+ Think as you may, I'm free to say
+ I would we were the Dutch!"
+
+ Just then we overtook a boat
+ (The Golden Tulip hight)--
+ Big with the weight of motley freight,
+ It was a goodly sight!
+ Meynheer van Blarcom sat on deck,
+ With pipe in lordly pose,
+ And with his son of twenty-one
+ He played at dominoes.
+
+ Then quoth my wife: "How fair to see
+ This sturdy, honest man
+ Beguile all pain and lust of gain
+ With whatso joys he can;
+ Methinks his spouse is down below
+ Beading a kerchief gay--
+ A babe, mayhap, lolls in her lap
+ In the good old Milky way.
+
+ "Where in the land from whence we came
+ Is there content like this--
+ Where such disdain of sordid gain,
+ Such sweet domestic bliss?
+ A homespun woman I, this land
+ Delights me overmuch--
+ Think as you will and argue still,
+ I like the honest Dutch."
+
+ And then my wife made end of speech--
+ Her voice stuck in her throat,
+ For, swinging around the turn, we found
+ What motor moved the boat;
+ Hitched up in tow-path harness there
+ Was neither horse nor cow,
+ But the buxom frame of a Hollandische dame--
+ Meynheer van Blarcom's frau.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+
+ Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.
+
+ Obvious typographical errors have been corrected as follows:
+
+ Page 6: "Japan" changed to "Spain"
+ Page 85: "you re" changed to "you're"
+ Page 101: comma added after "spiders"
+ Page 113: ' changed to " before "Let"
+ Page 157: "the" changed to "they"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Lyrics, by Eugene Field
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER LYRICS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 36150.txt or 36150.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+ http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/5/36150/
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, 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 1.F.3. 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.
diff --git a/36150.zip b/36150.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9af4a88
--- /dev/null
+++ b/36150.zip
Binary files differ
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c6d7e12
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #36150 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36150)
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-04-06 05:37:33 +0000