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BY EDWIN M. ABBOTT
What is the price of manhood?
What sale does honor bring?
Count nought in lifetime's ring?
Does riot, ruin reign
To crush, destroy, rend twain?
To cause mankind to stay
That lures them far away?
The mold wherein we're cast;
The flag flung from life's mast?
And riches gained at such a cost
He surely will repay.
Appearances, poor art,
Inspects our inmost heart. Condemn not, then, I pray thee,
For thou, thyself, some day May seek for mercy from thy Judge,
Whose verdict none can sway. And temper all thy judgments
With love and common sense. The end well merits all 'twill bring;
It serves full recompense.
LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS
BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS
I haf got a leedle boy
Vot gomes schust to my knee; Der queerest schap, der greatest rogue
As efer you dit see;
In all barts of der house
Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.
He get der measles und der mumbs,
Unt eferyding dot's oud;
He fills my pipe mit Limburg cheese,
Dot vas der roughest chouse; I'd dake dot vrom no oder boy
But leedle Yawcob Strauss.
He dakes der milk ban for a dhrum,
Und cuts mine cane in dwo
Mine cracious, dot vas drue!
He kicks oup sooch a touse
Like dot young Yawcob Strauss.
He asks me questions sooch as dese:
Who baints mine nose so red? Who vas it cut dot schmoot blace out
Vrom der hair ubon mine head?
Vene'er der glim I douse
To dot shmall Yawcob Strauss?
I somedimes dink I schall vild
Mit sooch a grazy poy, Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest
Und beaceful dimes enshoy;
So guiet as a mouse,
El Dorado, 1851
BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS
I've just been down ter Thompson's, boys,
'N feelin' kind o’ blue, I thought I'd look in at “ The Ranch,"
Ter find out what wuz new; When I seed this sign a-hanging
On a shanty by the lake: "Here's whar yer get your doughnuts
Like yer mother used ter make."
I've seen a grizzly show his teeth,
I've seen Kentucky Pete Draw out his shooter, 'n advise
A“ tenderfoot " ter treat; But nuthin' ever tuk me down,
'N made my benders shake, Like that sign about the doughnuts
That my mother used ter make.
A sort o’mist shut out the ranch,
'N standin' thar instead,
With its doors all painted red.
Wuz I sleepin' or awake?
The bees wuz hummin'round the porch
Whar honeysuckles grew; A yellow dish of apple-sass
Wuz settin' thar in view. 'N on the table, by the stove,
An old-time" Johnny-cake," 'N a platter full of doughnuts Like my
mother used ter make.
A patient form I seemed ter see,
In tidy dress of black,
"When will my boy come back?” 'N then - the old sign creaked:
But now it was the boss who spake: "Here's whar yer gets yer doughnuts Like
yer mother used ter make."
Well, boys, that kind o' broke me up,
'N ez I've “struck pay gravel,” I ruther think I'll pack my kit,
Vamoose the ranch, 'n travel. I'll make the old folks jubilant,
'N if I don't mistake, I'll try some o' them doughnuts
Like my mother used ter make.