He was six foot o' man, A 1, He'd sparked it with full twenty gals, But long o' her his veins 'ould run She thought no v'ice hed sech a swing My! when he made Ole Hunderd ring, An' she'd blush scarlit, right in prayer, Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some! She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu, He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk Ez though she wished him furder, An' on her apples kep' to work, Parin' away like murder. "You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?" To say why gals acts so or so, He stood a spell on one foot fust, Says he, "I'd better call agin;' Says she, "Think likely, Mister: " Thet last word pricked him like a pin, An'... Wal, he up an' kist her. When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, All kin' o' smily roun' the lips For she was jes' the quiet kind Whose naturs never vary, Like streams that keep a summer mind The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued Too tight for all expressin', Tell mother see how metters stood, Then her red come back like the tide An' all I know is they was cried James Russell Lowell THE TWINS In form and feature, face and limb, One day (to make the matter worse), And thus, you see, by Fate's decree, My brother John got christen'd me, This fatal likeness even dogg'd What would you do, if you were me, Our close resemblance turn'd the tide For somehow my intended bride Became my brother's wife. In short, year after year the same Absurd mistakes went on; And when I died. the neighbors came And buried brother John! Henry S. Leigh LITTLE BREECHES A PIKE COUNTY VIEW OF SPECIAL PROVIDENCE I don't go much on religion, I never ain't had no show; But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir, On the handful o' things I know. I don't pan out on the prophets And free-will, and that sort of thing, — But I b'lieve in God and the angels, Ever sence one night last spring. I come into town with some turnips, Could beat him for pretty and strong, Always ready to swear and fight, And I'd larnt him ter chaw terbacker, Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. The snow come down like a blanket I went in for a jug of molasses And left the team at the door. They scared at something and started, And hell-to-split over the prairie Went team, Little Breeches and all. Hell-to-split over the prairie! I was almost froze with skeer; But we rousted up some torches, And sarched for 'em far and near. At last we struck hosses and wagon, Snowed under a soft white mound, Upsot, dead beat, — but of little Gabe No hide nor hair was found. And here all hope soured on me I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, By this, the torches was played out, Went off for some wood to a sheepfold We found it at last, and a little shed And thar sot Little Breeches and chirped, "I want a chaw of terbacker, And that's what's the matter of me." How did he git thar? Angels. He could never have walked in that storm. To whar it was safe and warm. Is a derned sight better business John Hay COMPANIONS A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER By the Author of "Dewy Memories," etc. I know not of what we ponder'd Or made pretty pretence to talk, As, her hand within mine, we wander'd Tow'rd the pool by the lime-tree walk, While the dew fell in showers from the passion flowers And the blush-rose bent on her stalk. |