^-^, '.^^^ ,^^ 
 
 ,40^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 
 .^^ 
 
 '^ 
 
 
 
 ,J 
 
 S-. %/ 
 
 
 
 ••^ ^^ .,. ^-J- '°"" 
 
 
 ■> o 
 
 "Aim 
 
 
 
 -f-. 
 

 ,^ ., 
 
 ^'?' 
 
 ^^ .> ■^>^^'>•^ >^^_ a"^ »' 
 
 
 ' ;?;■■•,. 
 
 5». 
 
 
 ^P-^^ 
 
 10S .v^ 
 
 ? <<• 
 
 
 '^^ 
 
 V-s 
 
 ^^ "^^ ° ■■— ■ A- -o -C^ 
 
 ^^9^ -^^^^ ^^^-i^ « 1 -^^^'^ =^ 
 
 /% 
 
 <*> 
 
 
 
 -^--0^ 
 
 
 
 'oK 
 
 V -^-^ ^^ ^ _ - , 
 
 . ■<^ -^ ' 'J A ' ° " ° " *- 
 
A POLITICAL 
 ROMANCE, 
 
 AND OTHE.R SKETCHIIS 
 
 i..'J ' - " '""i , i rr--— sa sT 1.1' *i_'.''.i' ' _ i 'Trr;r .'r... Tt 
 
 one. 
 
^ political 9^omance 
 
 or tbr 
 
 Crue ^torp of a Democratic 00aiDcn ^ftoUiing 
 10otu ^i)c Came to <Srief 
 
 anB ffitbfr gfectcfira 
 
 Comprisino; a ^ttttt of l^umorotis Poems 
 
 JfreD. peatce Q0oone 
 
 ®oubfnit ffiBition 
 
N 
 
 r5^^ 
 
 1.5 
 
 
 T^ 
 
 THE L'SHARY aF 
 
 GONGREbS, 
 Two CohiKtt Receiveo 
 
 MAY. 3 1902 
 
 COPYRt«HT ENTRY 
 
 0LAS8 «/ XXo. No. 
 J 5^9-5 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 COPTItlOHT. VMZ. 
 
To THE Hon. George J. Kaeb, 
 
 A STAUNCH DEMOCRAT, 
 THIS LITTLE PoEM IS INSCRIBED 
 
 BY" THE Author. 
 
3nDcr. 
 
 Frefactory and ApoIogetiCj .. _ _ _ 7 
 
 A Folitical Romancej - ^ _ - _ 9 
 
 Jim Mawleyj -, _ _ - _ _ 15 
 
 Jokey Strduss. _ ^ _ - _ _ 17 
 
 Mie First Battij ^ _ _ _ _ - 19 
 
 Pat's Mistal<e ____-- 21 
 Tlie Haughty FeQch (an allegory) 
 
 - s^.c; 
 
Prcfatorp anD apologetic. 
 
 N the recesses of my writting desk repose numerous sketches 
 and verses written by myself at various odd times to while 
 away an idle hour, and to gratify a passing fancy. Some 
 of them are humorous in their nature and some of them 
 otherwise. Many similar ones I have destroyed, after keeping 
 them for a time, considering them of no moment ; and others I 
 have retained. Tliey were none of them written with any thought 
 of publication at the lime of their production, and I should 
 hesitate to publish them now. but for the fact that I am urged to 
 print some of them at least, by my, perhaps, too partial friends, 
 who desire copies, and who say that I should not allow them to 
 remain in the obscurity of m}' writing desk. I have at last yielded 
 to their wisjies and have consented to print this souvenir edition. 
 
 I have selected the sketches contained in this little volume, not 
 on account of aiiv special merit that they may possess over many 
 others that I have, but because of their humor, well knowing that 
 men would rather laugh than weep, and that 
 "A little nonsense now and then 
 Is relished by the wisest men." 
 Ay, and women, too, for that matter. To those of my readers, 
 if any there be who are so squeamish that ought within these 
 pages may give offense to their moral sensibilities, I have merely 
 this to say : 
 
 That if I give offense in what my verses say, 
 
 Or aught within this little book awake your ire. 
 Please tear to tatters and then cast away. 
 Or, better still, just toss it in the fire. 
 But before doing so they would do well to eliminate from 
 their libraries the works of Boccaccio, Chaucer, Byron, Pope. 
 Shakespeare, Burns and a host of others, whose writings are re- 
 plete with words and sentiments far grosser than anything that I 
 have given utterance to. 
 
I have endeavored to use good language, and to use no word 
 that would shock the most fastidious, with perhaps one exception, 
 and that is a good old Bible word. Mrs. Grundy may possibly 
 have something to say. She usually has, but I can assure the dear 
 old lady that I am as harmless as a sucking dove. 
 
 And with this brief apology I submit my little book to the 
 judgment of a generous and discerning public, merely pausing to 
 add that should the aforesaid generous and discerning public con- 
 firm the opinions of my friends, I may at some future time pub- 
 lish a larger and more comprehensive edition, as I have within 
 my desk man\' unpulilished poems and sketches. 
 
 Ths Author. 
 
AND OTA ED. ^H ETC ME J". 
 
 O 
 
 .\CE on a time, at least so runs the story, 
 
 There dwelt a maiden fair with her mamma. 
 Her sire had passed some _vcars before to glory, 
 
 Or so, his neighbors said. They who saw 
 Him ere his sonl had ta'en its final flight 
 To realm of bliss above or down to endless night. 
 
 The truth of this I'm not preiiared to say. 
 
 Nor is it pertinent to this my o'er true tale. 
 But be it this or that, just as it may, 
 I mean to tell the truth, nor shall I fail. 
 
 To do so. I'd likewise state in this 
 
 connection that 
 While the old man lived he was a 
 "* , Democrat. 
 
 ( )ne of the strict and stern Jack- 
 son ian kind 
 ^\"h(i'd no compromise brook nor 
 yield one jot, 
 
 lUit vote his ticket early and speak 
 nut his mind ; 
 He'd marshal forth his clan and 
 boss the lot, 
 
 -\nd hustle voters, too. That in short 
 meter. 
 
 And prizetl above all else on earth., 
 a stanch repeater. 
 
 
He counciled oft his daughter, when her }ears were ripe. 
 And she should come to wed, if there e'er be her lot; 
 
 She'd choose a man of the true Jacksoniait stripe ; 
 Nor let aught else with her e'en weigh one jot. 
 
 But no man take or coinitenance, and that 
 
 She'd wed with none except he were a Democrat. 
 
 The maiden grew, and ever_y passing day 
 
 Some new charm added to her form and face. 
 
 Her friends did marvel much, and well tlicv may ; 
 A smile from her would charm, and such her grace, 
 
 She seemed like svmshine in the darkest room. 
 
 And e'en her presence there dispelled the deepest gloo.n. 
 
 Her eyes were of that rare and radiant hue 
 
 That poets rave about, and which you seldom see, 
 
 A deep, a dark and lustrous shade of blue. 
 Like the un fathomed depths of tropic sea. 
 
 Her breath was like the scented breezes from the south. 
 
 But what entranced one most was her sweet mouth. 
 
 Her pouting lips, half veiled but did 
 not hide. 
 Her ivory teeth, like pearls all 
 gleaming white. 
 
 .\nd then she'd countless other 
 charms beside. 
 That very well might tempt an 
 anchorite. 
 
 I ler li])s were sweet so that an amor- 
 ous swain 
 
 Might kiss and kiss and kiss. Then 
 sigh and kiss again. 
 
Her form well rounded, yet 'twas not obese, 
 
 And her smooth cheeks were mingled pink and white, 
 
 Like a ripe peach's skin, the outer fleece, 
 
 Luscious and rich, and tempting one to bite. 
 
 Her hair was golden and inclined to red, 
 
 A warm and amorous tint, I've often heard it said. 
 
 Ay, she was beautiful, and her eyes of blue 
 
 Reflected heaven and innocent withall. 
 j\lan gazed upon her and I szvcar 'tis true, 
 
 Became her bondman, slave and willing thrall. 
 Ller face, her form, her very pose was grand. 
 Like marble sculptured by a master hand. 
 
 But Lve digressed and wandered from my story. 
 Kind reader, pray, forgive me, if you will. 
 
 We left the old man dead and gone to glory ; 
 
 With your permission there we'll leave him still. 
 
 With others from all parties there to mix. 
 
 For heaven, they say, doth know no politics. 
 
 The years rolled on and suitors came to woo 
 
 The damsel. One at last was found 
 Who stood all tests. He was the one who 
 
 Upon all questions of the goose was sound. 
 And so their troth was plighted, and the day was named. 
 They scarce could wait until the time had waned. 
 
 n 
 
■<-"^, 
 
 But time speeds on and they at last were wed. 
 
 The festive supper eaten and the guests dispersed, 
 
 Except a privileged few, who tucked them safe in bed. 
 The bride and groom, I mean. The latter cursed 
 
 Them in his inmost heart for this. 
 
 And took their kind attentions very much amiss. 
 
On earth all things must have an end they say, 
 
 And so at last they left them, and the light blew out. 
 
 .\n(l what happened then, you ask. 1 answer nay. 
 I dare not tell you, tho you'd like to know, no doubt. 
 
 IJesides, what haps twixt man and wife is sacred. This I hold. 
 
 And to rex'eal such secrets would indeed be liold. 
 
 The night sped on and morning came at last, 
 .\nd to the table came the bride and groom 
 
 With friends ( a select few ) to break their fast 
 With choice refection in the dining room. 
 
 But each observed that where all else was glad 
 
 The bride was d(3\\ncast and seemed very sad. 
 
 The mother questioned why her daughter grieved. 
 
 And why her eyes were red. What is the matter, tell me 
 that? 
 She answered : Mother, dear, I've been sore deceived 
 
 r/, By John there. He is, I'm very 
 
 sure, , no Democrat. 
 yKnd then while all the rest a won- 
 dering silence kept 
 .She bowed her head and there in 
 sorrow wept. 
 
 
 -ry 
 
 /i'"* -^ 
 
 13 
 
And twixt her sighs she told her piteous tale 
 Of how she'd been deceived by her husband, John. 
 
 She had thought him a Democrat staunch and hale 
 As e'er the morning light had shone upon. 
 
 But now, alas, he was no Democrat, but dunce ; 
 For though all night the polls were widely open, 
 
 Dear John was such an ass he only voted once. 
 
 14 
 
Slim ijjatulcp. 
 
 O OME time in the seventies, I think, of the century just passed, 
 J% the late Colonel Andrew Swartz and myself stood at the 
 y-^ l)ar of L'.illy P.ott's saloon, then located where Bryce Bros, 
 now have their clothing store. We were drinking a glass of 
 beer together, and on a table nearby was spread a lunch. Among 
 other things on the table was a dish of olives. The Colonel par- 
 took of them and invited me to do likewise. I did try one, but 
 the}' were new to me and I did not like the taste of it, and so I spat 
 it out. This provoked the Colonel to laughter, and he told me 
 the following story, which I have rendered into verse, giving its 
 hero a local habitation and a name. 
 
 J 
 
 TM HA\\'LEV lived in Truro midst Truro's flats and bogs. 
 He plowed the corn in summer time and in winter fed the 
 
 hogs. 
 He'd work and hustle all the week till Saturday would 
 
 come. 
 And then he'd d<_)n his Sunday clothes and hie him to the 
 
 town. 
 Where Jim woukl take in all the sights there was in town 
 
 to see, 
 And sometimes he, when ver)- flush, would take a little 
 
 spree. 
 
 Xot saying that Jim a drunkard was, or anything like this. 
 
 But he'd sometimes drink a glass or two, nor think it aught amiss. 
 
 One day, I think 'twas in July, and it was very hot. 
 
 He accidentally found the place that's kept by Billy Bott. 
 
 Indeed the day was torrid. It was ninety in the shade ; 
 
 So he thought he'd take a lager or perhaps a Iciiioiiadc. 
 
 15 
 
Then he step"t up to the counter and made his wishes known 
 To the genial, smihng barkeeper, and with courtesy was shown 
 To a table clean and white nearby where a dainty lunch was 
 
 spread. 
 And he helped himself quite freely, for 'twas long since he had 
 
 fed. 
 And as he gazed around th.e room he spied some olives green 
 On one corner of the table. I think they're called the queen. 
 
 Now Jim had never seen the like and thought he'd take a taste. 
 So he picked up one and took a bite, then spat it out in haste. 
 And then he puckered up his mouth with many a wild grimace. 
 The idlers who were standing 'round, and indeed there were a few, 
 All laughed and whooped and shouted till red our Jimmy grew. 
 Cried he : "Cease yotir silly laughter, ye hoodlums and bums, 
 For I can lick the ornery cuss that p — d upon those plums." 
 
 16 
 
Jiakcp ^trouse. 
 
 X KEW YCJRK'S crowded city, in a great big" red brick bouse, 
 Lives a bttle Hebrew laddie, and they call bim Cbakey Strouse. 
 W'itb bis fatber and bis mother, and their children, ten or so, 
 Tiiey occupy the upper floors. Old Strouse sells clothes below. 
 
 He will hail each verdant passer-by antl try to draw them in. 
 Sell them bargains in sheep clotditigs for marvelous little tin. 
 Xow Jakey is the eldest of all that little crowd, 
 .\nd it gives bim a distinction of which he is quite prond. 
 
 One day Old Strouse had business that be could not well neglect 
 At the court house. 'Bout bis taxes. I more than half suspect. 
 So be called young Jakey to him and said be ; "Cbakey dear, 
 I'm going avay dis morning unt shan't be back, I fear. 
 
 Until sometime after mid-day. So mind de store und bouse. 
 Sell all de clotdings dot you can unt show you are a Strouse. 
 I shows you how I marks de brice. I makes some dots like dese, 
 Unt efifery dot a dollar iss ; remember off you bleeze. 
 
 Dis sute mit stwelf dots on der dicket py der collar, 
 Must sell, remember Cbakey. for de sum of uste stwelf dollar. 
 Unt so it iss mit all de rest. Dere marked de self-same vay, 
 For each dot uppon der dicket a dollar dey must pay." 
 
 So having made the matter clear to little Jakey's mind. 
 He hastened to the court-bouse, nor left one doubt behind. 
 Returning borne be met some friends who detained him at the park, 
 And when he reached the store again it was way after dark. 
 
 "\'ell. Cbakey. vas der peezness goot? Dit you some clotding sell?" 
 "Yaw, sure. I sell some clotding. unt I dinks I do quite well. 
 I sell von man a dark prown coat mit fur uppon der collar. 
 Unt an ondre man an oft'ercoat I sell for forty dollar." 
 
 17 
 
'■j\line Gott," cried Jakey's father ; the price gave him quite a 
 
 shock ; 
 For he'd no forty-dollar overcoats in all his shoddy stock. 
 It took his breath he scarce could gasp. "Vare iss dot money, 
 
 Chake ? 
 Some rascal fellers schwindle you, dots true unt no mistake." 
 
 "No, fader; here de money iss. x'Vll clean unt crisp unt new, 
 Unt I safe der dicket from der coat unit show it here to you." 
 Strouse counted out the mone}', found everything was right. 
 Xo counterfeits among the bills. They all were clean and bright. 
 
 Then he gazed upon the ticket, found twelve little dots ink ; 
 .'Ml the other specks were made by naughty flies, I think. 
 Strouse called his family to him saying: "Quick my children dear, 
 Kneel on der carpet rount me unt Chakey, too, right here. 
 
 Unt } du mine Rachael also, m_\- own beloved wife. 
 Pray each unt effery one of you, if yon ef¥er prayed in life. 
 Unt, Oh my wife unt children, I tells you quick for vy. 
 Ust let your sublication pe, 'Gott pless dot leetle fly.' " 
 
 18 
 
IDis JFirst 15atf). 
 
 ^ SHORT time ago a Russian Jew was found prowling about 
 the Panhandle yards. His hair was long and unkempt, 
 and his beard was a tangled mass, and he had a wild and 
 anarchistic look. So they arrested him on suspicion and 
 sent him down to the city prison and — But I will let the verses 
 tell the rest : 
 
 He'd been loitering around the station all the day 
 And at night they found him prowling in the yard. 
 
 So they sent him to the station-house without delay 
 And left him with the turnkey, under guard. 
 
 But before the latter placed him in a cell. 
 
 Said he unto his fellows (with a laugh) : 
 "This duller here is dirtier than hell. 
 
 And I think we"d better treat him to a bath." 
 
 So they took him to a room where was a tub, 
 
 And bade him doff his very dirty, dirty duds 
 And give himself a good and generous scrub. 
 
 And they would very kindly furnish him the suds. 
 
 Then the fellow raised a protest loud and strong ; 
 
 Saying: "Vot ! go into dot vater. Oh mine fricnt, 
 De dings dot you propose iss very wrong. 
 
 I'll catch a colt unt dot mine life vill ent." 
 
 They heeded not his protest, but plunged him in the tub. 
 
 Regardless of his struggles and his cries. 
 They soaped him and they lathered him with many a vigorous rub. 
 
 And I fear they got some lather in his eyes. 
 
 19 
 
At last their task was ended. They'd reaehed down to the skin 
 
 Throug-h all the different stratas of the dirt. 
 Then they gave him clean- apparel. ( 'Twas very light and thin) 
 
 From the vest, socks and trousers to the shirt. 
 
 Then one who'd helped to rul) him in the bath 
 
 Asked this very natural i|uestii;in fif him then, 
 "When before in all your life did you ever take a bath ? 
 
 Now upon your word and honor, tell me when. 
 
 Then he answered : "Frient belief me 'tis de trute I tells you now. 
 
 Or if vou choose uste go unt awask mine vife. 
 So help me My Good Ciracious. I honestly do vow 
 
 Dot / iicffcr vas arrested before in all iiiiiie life. 
 
 20 
 
pat's Q^istakc. 
 
 h 
 
 BOLD SOX of Erin whose footsteps had led him 
 Away from Old Ireland to Columbia's fair shore, 
 \\ here in exile he wandered until he said to him : 
 "Faith I'll tarry here, I will wander no more. 
 
 The time it was summer and Paddy went fishing 
 On the banks of a stream in Oliio, 1 think. 
 
 In the breast of his coat he'd a flask of good whiskey, 
 And each now and then he would take a sly drink. 
 
 He baited his hook, cast the same in the stream. 
 
 And waited awhile for the fishes to bite. 
 But the Divil a fish, bass sucker or bream, 
 
 Even nibbled a bit Pat's heart to delight. 
 
 At last growing weary and gazing around 
 
 He espied a small turtle asleep in the sun. 
 Pat thought 'twas a treasure for sure he had found ; 
 
 To possess himself then of the prize he tlid run. 
 
 The beast took alarm, quickly made for the stream 
 With all of the speed that its nature possessed. 
 
 Pat stood there aghast. Then he gave one wild scream. 
 May the good saints defend us. Alay we ever be blest. 
 
 By the Mother of Moses and the A'irgin he swore. 
 
 Then the Dear Lord protect us. Forgive us our sins. 
 
 Sure the like of this dom thing was niver before. 
 As sure as I'm Pat, and stand here on two pins. 
 
 Then he saitl with affright, standing there on the sand : 
 "I've seen fish that cud fly and burds that cud talk ; 
 
 But bad luck to the day whin I lift dear Old Ireland 
 And came to the land where the shnuff boxes walk." 
 
 21 
 
C!)c IDaugfttp pcact). 
 
 AN ALLEGORY. 
 
 ONCii on a time in the dim ages long since passed away, 
 when the birds and the beasts and the reptiles and the fishes 
 and the trees and the plants and the fruits I/cd a language 
 of their own and could converse with each other, there grew a 
 beautiful peach tree. It stood in the midst of a large orchard sur- 
 rounded by other beautiful peach trees, but this one tree was the 
 largest and most beautiful of them all. It was a very handsome 
 tree, far out of the ordinary, and its fruit was very fine and lus- 
 cious. It so happened that on the very topmost bough of all there 
 grew an exceedingly fine peach even for that tree of fine peaches, 
 and every one who saw it could not help but admire the beautiful 
 peach. 
 
 I do not know how it came about, for she had no mirror. It 
 may be that some vagrant humming bird or some wandering bee 
 W'hispered it to her. But be this as it may, she all at once became 
 impressed with the idea that she was a peach par excellence and 
 far above any of her sister peaches. So much was she imbued 
 with this idea that she vowed to herself that no ordinary mortal 
 should ever eat her, but that she would remain on her parent stem 
 until some grand personage should come to claim her for his own. 
 Well, time passed on, and the morning sun sent its warm rays 
 down to her and she became more beautiful than ever, and many 
 paused to gaze upon her and tried in vain to capture the prize, but 
 she refused to loosen her hold upon the tree and awaited the com- 
 ing: of the ereat one wdio never came, and so at last men saw that 
 she was overripe and not fit to be eaten. Then she would fain 
 have fallen if only a beggar had shaken the tree, but men passed 
 her by in scorn and derision, and when the winds of winter blew 
 through the branches of the tree they found her a dried up, with- 
 ered old peach. 
 
 LofC. 
 
 22 
 

 
 N a peach tree high mid its branches fair, 
 Grew a hiscious peach, of a kind most rare. 
 And she said to herself as she smiled in glee : 
 "Oh, I am a peach of high degree. 
 
 My sister peaches may all be plucked. 
 Be peeled and eaten or their juices sucked; 
 But fast I will cling to my parent tree, 
 For I am a peach of high degree. 
 
 And, Oh it is grand to be so high. 
 Far out of the reach of the passer-by. 
 Yes, I am a peach of high degree, 
 .-\nd no Plebian mouth shall ever taste me. 
 
 But fast to m}- parent treet I will cling. 
 Where the zephyrs play and the birds do sing ; 
 Till time in passing to me shall bring, 
 A lord or a duke or perhaps a I'iug. 
 
 To some such one I'll surrender my charms. 
 When the tree he shakes, I will fall in his arms. 
 But no common mortal shall ever taste me, 
 For I am a peach of high degree. 
 
 Time passed on. Many youths did stop 
 And the peach tree shook, but she would not drop. 
 But neither a lord nor a king or a duke 
 Approached the tree or its branches shook. 
 
 Then she grew overripe and she fain would fail. 
 But no one was there to receive her at all. 
 And she hung so high, far out of all reach. 
 And now she is naught but a dried up peach. 
 
 23 
 
MAY 3 1902 
 
 And so they say, that peach today, 
 
 Hangs there on the tree-top high. 
 
 And men bad and good, be they gentle or rude. 
 
 So slightingly pass her by. They so slightingly pass her by. 
 
 So fair maidens all, take heed, I pray ; 
 
 Consider vour actions while yet yon may. 
 
 And though humble I, would presume not to teach — 
 
 Yet beware of the fate of the haughty peach. 
 
 24 
 


 \* 
 
 b <^ -^ , „ s ' .' V < 
 
 
 ^-. FF3.69 
 
 !■€■!*■ N MANCHESTER, 
 ^S' INDIANA 
 
 
 -.^ :iSC^-