'-at LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ©^ap ©np^rtglit IJn. UNITED STATES OF AMEKIflA. ■ r, i'' ' ' •r-j^ m :v cp ^<-^^ (^h^/^c^^^ W/icn trade is du//, collections bad Aud " blue " you feel and look. Don't take ''a smile,'' sit dozvn awhile, And con this little book. COMPILED BY N. r/sTREETER PUBLISHED BY THE COMPILER. 1889. "^ ^ Copyrighted, 1889, By N. R. STREETER. Groton, N. Y. Copies of this little book will be s^ut to any address by mail, postage paid, on I'eceipt of price (Fifty Cents). Address, N. R. STREETER, Groton, N. Y. WHY THIS LITTLE BOOK WAS PUB- LISHED. Havii^g travelled tlirougli all the States and Territories of the Union; crossed the continent by the four different routes, and tried the pleasures of the coast steamers on both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, I have formed many pleasant ac- quaintances with '^Knights of the Grip^^ in dif- ferent parts of the country. And having something of a reputation as a nat- ural reader and impersonator, I have often been called upon, in Pullman cars, hotel parlors and other places, to furnish something in the way of entertainment for the " boys/' In many cases I have been asked for copies of selections which I have given, and sometimes have written copies in answer to such requests. Through the suggestions and the assistance of friends, especially my old travelling " pard," E. S. 4 WHY THIS LITTLE BOOK WAS PUBLISHED. Hooper, and the editors of the American Coinmer- cial Traveler, of Chicago, "a briglit newsy little paper, published in the interests of Commercial men and which should be in the hands of every man who carries the grip,^' I have compiled the fol- lowing GEMS, which I respectfully dedicate to that great army of men known as " Drummers," of which I am proud to be considered a member. N. R. STREETER. Groton, Oct. 7, 1889. CO]^TENTS. What Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox Says of the Boys, 9 A Letter froui Home, 10 The Drummer and His Grip, .... 11 A Drummer's Constancy, 13 The Drummer to His Grip, 14 My Sweetheart , . . 17 "Horse and Horse," 18 The Battered Old Grip, 20 The Drummer's Baby, 23 The Drummer's Life, 25 The Battered Old Grip's Lament, ... 26 "When the Check is on the Kiester,'' . . 28 The Drummer's Dream, 80 Lamentations of the Travelling- Man, . . 31 " In the Gloaming," 34 CONTENTS. PAGE The Drummer, . . . 35 Never go Back on a Travellirjg- Man, 36 The Rival Drummers, . 38 Der Drunnner, 40 The Toast, .... 41 The Blacksmith's Story, 44 Bill Brown, from Colioes, 49 The Veteran and His Grandson. 52 Sergeant John Carter and Son, 58 Our Folks, .... 61 Banty Tim, .... 64 The Old Tools in a Frame, . 66 The Old Man and Jim, . . 68 Paddy's Excelsior, . . 71 Extract from Speech made before the Louisville Com- mercial Club, by Ex-Gov. J. Proctor Knott. " I object to the term Commercial Traveller. It is too indefinite and inconclusive. Commercial ' Evan- gelist ' strikes me as far more significant and appro- priate, especially in view of the modern acceptation of the word. ''TheAvant Courier of Christian civilization, who puts aside the endearments of home and family, and goes bravely out into the world on his Master's work, defying discomforts, disease, danger and death. " I hold that next to the religion of our Divine Sa- viour the most potential of all promoters of human civilization, is commerce. " It ministers to our wants, multiplies our comforts, gratifies our tastes, increases our enjoyments, elevates our natures, and prepares the way for the Gospel of Peace. " It disregards alike the heat of the tropics and the snows of the frigid zones. It dares the night and tem- pests of the trackless sea, it spans the raging torrent, it brushes the mountain out of the way, it changes the wilderness into a teeming field, and rears the stately palace in place of the squalid hovel. The school bell beats time to its stately march, and the church spire springs up in its pathway. "AVhy should not the forerunners of an agency so beneficent be termed ' Evangelists? ' But why not, after all, stick to the good old fashioned but sugges- tive word ' Drummer.' ' ' Tourist traveller or evangelist may be more eupho- 8 EXTRACT. nious, but I prefer ' The Drummer ' to any of them. It is such a hale, hearty old word, so suggestive of energy, courage, and manhood, and it fits the mouth. "But call them what you will, I like the craft. I have always found them a genial, whole-souled set of fellows, as well as intelligent, energetic, honorable business men, "Do you see that fellow curled up in the car seat, fast asleep, unmindful of the roar of the train, the yells of the brakemen, the ingress and egress of pas- sengers? He's a Drummer. He rode forty miles last night through wind and rain and mud, to make the point. And he made it. "That^lick young man who is helping the poor, tired looking woman with her numberless bundles and her sick baby ? He's a Drummer too. "And that bright-faced youngster who is rising to give the venerable old gentleman his seat, is a Drum- mer also. "And so are those four fellows at the rear end of the car, who are amusing themselves and every one around them with their flashes of wit and humorous stories. They're all Drummers. " The closest observers, the keenest judges of human nature, the most entertaining narrators of curious and interesting facts of any class of men in the world. " ' All hail to the men of the satchel The sample, and iron-bound box. For they have the stuff within their skin That stands life's rugged knocks.' " ■GEMS FROM m OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. WHAT MES. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX SAYS OF THE "BOYS." F IRST in the crowded car is he to offer — This "travelling man/' unhonored and The seat he paid for he is first to proffer To some lady old and wrinkled, or some woman fresh and young. Something, a trifle from his samples maybe. To please the fancy of the crying baby. He lifts the window or drops the curtain For unaccustomed hands. He lends his case For a bolster for a child, not certain But its mamma will frown him in the face. So anxiously some women seek for danger In every courteous act of every stranger. Well versed is he in all those ways conducive To comfort where least comfort can be found. He turns the seat unasked yet unobtrusive; His little deeds of thoughtfulness abound. 10 GEMS FROM AN^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. Is glad to please yoii or have you please him. Yet takes it very calmly if you freeze him. He smooths the Jove-like frown of the official, By paying the fare of one who cannot pay. True modesty he knows from artificial. Will " flirt," of course, if you^re inclined that way. And if you are, be sure that he detects you. And if you^re not, be sure that he respects you. The sorrows of the moving world distress him ; He never fails to lend what aid he can. A thousand hearts to-day have cause to bless him. This much abused, misused " commercial man." I do not seek to cast a halo round him. But speak of him precisely as Fve found him. A LETTER EEOM HOME. rpHE hotel 'bus from the midnight train, -^ Brought only one passenger through the rain ; A commercial tourist, weary and sad. For trade had been dull and collections bad. ISTot a single order was on his book, The disgust he felt was shown in his look; With a careless hand he wrote his name. On the page of a book unknown to fame. GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 11 The drowsy night clerk the signature scanned. Then a letter placed in the drummer's hand; See how he starts, what a smile of delight Comes over his face at the welcome sight. Open the envelope is quickly torn ; And over his face, so weary and worn, Now flit, like sunbeams after a storm. Smiles of joy as the message takes form. Thus clouds of despair that will often appear To the travelling man, sometimes in the year. Are quickly dispelled by such simple means As one friendly letter — How queer it seems! So wives, sweethearts, brothers, and chums. If you know where we^ll be when Sunday comes. Write us if your time will permit. Draw on us at sight and we will remit — Our - Thais^ks. THE DRUMMER AND HIS GRIP. rpHOUGH the rain and sleet are falling, -*- And the roads are " awful muddy," Though all men " hard times " are bawling. Though a fellow's nose gets ruddy, 12 GEMS FROM AN^ OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. Though the rivers may be frozen, And the frost may bite and nip, They can never stop the advent Of the drummer and his grip. Though the trains may all be smashing, Though the horses all go lame. The drummer, like the bedbug, Will get there just the same; And when his time is over. Will come smiling from his trip For he always " makes connection,^' Does the drummer with his grip. Ah, he teaches us a lesson. With his energy and grit. Things that "paralyze'^ most people Don't astonish him a bit. And he's ever bright and cheerful. And a smile is on his lip; He's a daisy from away back. Is the drummer with his grip. Give him a kind word always, He'll give you back the same; For the doings of some "black sheep" Don't give the whole tribe blame. Far down, clear down to Hades, ^ Some so-called " good men " slip. While along the road to heaven Goes the drummer (with his grip). GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 13 A DEUMMER^S CONSTANCY. BY JOHN" DEW ITT. [In American Commercial Traveler.] "TTTHEN I reach out for my grip, ^^ To begin some lengthy trip, I look into the eyes of my sweetheart And say, " Goocl-by, my dear." Then I kiss away each tear That trembles on her lashes as I start. And I whisper, " Pet, 1^1 try To surprise you by-and-by, By some token that will make those bright eyes shine." But she says, with beaming face, "Ah, no gifts can take your place. So write to me each day, if but a line." When a woman thus is true, Oh, what can we "' dru mmers " do. But love the very ground they walk upon? We might search the whole world wide. But we'd find no girl beside To fill our hearts like this beloved one. 14 GEMS FROM Ai^ OLD DRUMMER S GRIP» So be careful when you say That each " drummer/' when away. Is sure to have a girl in every j^lace. Though he's obliged to roam, The " drummer " loves his home. And worships his own wife's attractive face. This is why he travels miles To see sunniest of smiles Appear upon the face of that dear wife; And to get his baby's kiss, Which, away, he has to miss. He would give the best ten years of his life. If you doubt what I now say, Just you try this plan some day, And peep into some traveller's watch-case. And there, underneath the lid. You will find a picture hid; I'll guarantee 'twill be his wife's sweet face. THE DRUMMER TO HIS GRIP. "TT^ULL many a weary mile, old Grip, -■- We've travelled o'er together. Both in sunshine and the storm — In every kind of weather. GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 15 How many hours youVe waited, Grip, Alone in some hotel, AVhile I was selling piles of goods. Or " getting scooj^ed " like well. I never was profane, old Grip, You never heard me swear — Not even when that bottle broke. And I'd no shirt to wear. How often you've " held down the seat," You darling, dear old Grip, When I went to the smoking car With friends to take a sn smoke. I've trusted you with secrets. Grip, in fact, you hold some now. Which, were they known to folks at home. Would raise an awful row. You've kept my secrets well, old Grip, At home and ^' on the road," Though scores and scores of times, old friend. You've carried a " heavy load." You\e seen me shed sad tears, old Grip, When no one else was nigh. And often tried to comfort me AVith drinks of good old rye. 16 GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. We've seen some hard times, too, old Grip;- Like me, youVe stood abuse; Sometimes, like me, you've empty been, And sometimes " f uller'n a goose/' Yet, I never saw the time. Grip, When you were really drunk, Though oftentimes I had to " preach " To our old " sample trunk." We're gray-haired rusty chaps, old Grip, And don't look very fine ; The ladies never notice us. As when we used to shine. You know the reason too, old Grip — They know the world we've seen; So they " catch on " to newer grips And travelling men in green. Oh, well, we've seen the time. Grip, Whene'er we left the train. It was to leave some gentle heart Just fluttering with pain. And you could tell of letters. Grip, And faces, sweet and fair. Which I have left, day after day In your most sacred care. GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER S GRIP. Well, we are aged now, .old Grip — I'm forty-nine, you're seven ; Soon you'll be laid upon tlie slielf, I — sailing off toward heaven. But we will stick together. Grip, The longest that we can, For, next to wife, there is no friend Like Grip to a travelling man. MY SWEETHEART. BY JOHN" DEWITT. [In American Commercial Traveler.] A LITTLE tot, with dark brown eyes, -^-^ Waits at my chamber door. And says, " Why did you stay so long ? " You promised to come before. I waited for you most ^ free ' days. For I knew that you would come. And bring me, in your sample case Chocolate and chewing gum. "I've nursed my dolly awful long, And played with all my toys; I got so tired I most fell asleep Playing with some boys. 18 GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMERS GRIP. Little 2:irls like me can't wait So long for their papa to come; You must tell your trade to hurry up. Your best girl waits at home. " Just take me with you for one trip, I'll not be in the way; I'll promise to keep awful still When your samples you display. At night I'll sleep close by you. With my arms around your neck, And I'll help you write your letters, And in Ma's will send a check," God bless these little children, How they rule us with their sway. And they make us mighty homesick. When we're many miles away. But when our trip is over. And they meet us at the door. These kind of " sweethearts " are the style We " drummers " do adore. "HORSE AND HORSE." T'D been on a trip ten months (about that) ^ AVhen I returned to find my Mary true. And though I questioned her, I doubted not, 'Twas unnecessary so to do. GEMS FROM AJ^" OLD DRUMMER^S GRIP. 19 'Twas in the chimney corner, we were sitting. " Mary/' said I, " have you been always true ?'' '* Well frankly,'^ she said, just pausing in her knit- ting " I don't think I've unfaithful been to you. But since you've been gone I'll tell you what fve done, then say if I've been true or not. " When first you went away, my grief was uncon- trollable, Alone I moaned my miserable lot; My friends all thought me inconsolable. Till Captain Clifford came from Aldershot. To flirt with him amused me while 'twas new — But I don't count that unfaithfulness, do you ? " Charles Augustus Henderson lent me his horse; My ! how we rode and raced. We scoured the downs, we rode to hounds. And often was his arm around my waist. That was to help me up or down; but who Would count that unfaithfulness, do you ? " Next, young Frankie Pipps, just twenty-one. We met at uncle's; 'twas at Christmas tide. And 'neath the mistletoe, where lips meet lips. He gave me his first kiss. (Here she sighed.) We were six weeks at uncle's — my! how time flew!— But I dou't count that unfaithfulness, do you ? 20 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. " You know Reggy Vere. My ! how lie sings ! We met, 'twas at a picnic; ah, such weather. And see, he gave me the first of these two rings, When w^e were lost in ClilTton's woods together. What jolly times we had together, we two — But I don't count that unfaithfulness, do you? " And see, I have another ring. This plain gold band that's shining here." I took her hand, " Mary," said I, " can it be that you — " Quoth she, " That I am Mrs. Vere. I don't count that unfaithfulness, do you? " " N-o," I replied, " for I'm married too." THE BATTERED OLD GRIP. C. E. BANKS. [In American Commercial Traveler.] AH yes! it is faded and ragged and worn; One handle almost, one entirely, gone; The erst shining lock all tarnished and scaled. The key long since lost, and every clasp failed; The sides falling inward in gaunt, hungry way, And open-mouthed corners, as waiting for prey; But incidents many, all fleet-footed, trip Through my mind, at the sight of this batter'd old grip. GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 21 How often, preparing to start on my route, I have taken it down, and, dusting it out. Spread it wide at my feet, with its back to the floor, Wond'ring meanwhile if ^twould hold all my things as before. Ah! many's the friend a man tries, but to find Him holding far less in his heart than his mind ; But here's a companion ne'er gave me the slip — Always faithful and willing — my batter'd old grip. First, a half dozen shirts seem to fill up each side. Yet 'kerchiefs a dozen, scarfs tied and untied. Collars, cuffs, underwear, pipe, tobacco and gloves — A score of small knickknacks fit into the grooves; A clothes brush, pomade, a picture or two Of a dear Hampshire lass, to look at when blue. And perhaps a small phial containing a " nip," All snugly packed into the batter'd old " grip." The great ocean steamers with cabin and hold. Hang the sign out at last "no more here en- rolled;" The street car — capacity something immense — Eefuses at last a place for your pence; E'n the venerable stage, despite legend and lore. Has been known to decline the "room for one more;" 22 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER''S GRIP. But surely a lie must mantle tlie lip Of liim who would say, " no more room in this grip " ? And down as I gaze, sweet memories drift Through the channels of thought, and its worn form T lift With a reverent touch, and think, with a sigh, Of the thousand dear things in the long since gone by That have lain in its pockets, and hid in its depths — A mother's kind letters, teaching good, true pre- cepts ; And others, with tokens from maiden's pure lip, Eead over and over, held place in the "grip.'' To-day I am thirty and four, yet I feel All those feelings of youth and love o'er me steal As I gaze at its dingy old covers and think In my first manhood days, how I stood on the brink Of life's speeding river and dreamed of and plann'd A home just the neatest and best in the land, Where a sweet face would greet me returned from each trip With a welcome and smile for myself and the "grip." GEMS FROM Al^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 23 God bless every stitcli in the shrunken old hide, That has floated me over life's changing tide To this island of peace, which I now so enjoy With my dear loving wife, my girl and my boy; God bless it, I say, in palace or cot. In wealth or in poverty, whatever my lot. Though stern fate should from me all other gifts strip, I'll cling to you ever, dear batter'd old " grip." THE DRUMMER'S BABY. ii T^IGr time to-night,'' the drummers said, -^^ As to supper they sat down; " To-morrow's Sunday, and now's our chance To illuminate the town." " Good ! " cries Bill Barnes, the j oiliest — The favorite of all; "Yes; let's forget our trouble now And hold high carnival." The supper done, the mail arrives; Each man his letters scanning. With fresh quotations — up or down — His busy brain is cramming. 24 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. But Bill — wliy^ what's come over liim — Why turned so quick about ! He says, just as his parcls start forth; "I guess I won't go out." His letter bore no written word. No prayer from vice to flee; Only the tracing of a hand — A baby hand — of three. What picture comes before his mind — What does his memory paint ? A baby at her mother's knee — His little white-robed saint. What cares a man for ridicule Who wins a victory grand ? Bill slept in peace, his brow was smoothed By a shadowy little hand. Naught like the weak things of this world The power of sin withstands ; ^ No shield between man's soul and wrong Like a little baby hand. GEMS FROM AIS: OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 25 THE DRUMMER'S LIFE. C. E. BAi^KS. [In American Commercial Traveler.] /^NE came in the morning, with eager eye ^-^ The register scanned, then quickly sought The merchant out, induced him to buy. And his book was soon with an order fraught. So the drummer comes and the drummer goes, And his heart with joy is ready to burst. He recks not, he, his competitors' woes But hugs himself that he got there first. One came in the evening, with hopeful air. And spread his samples in a hurried way. But left full soon, bowed down with care — The " other fellow " had passed that day. So the drummer comes and the drummer goes. And the days are bright and the days are sad, Yet cheerful always, and no one knows Why the heart is sore of the drummer lad. They met ere a month was scarcely passed. And hand clasped hand in firm, true grip. And ^' brother " and " brother " to each was cast From beaming eye and speaking lip. So the drummer comes and the drummer goes. And his hand is ready, his heart is brave, To buffet life's evils with sturdy blows. Till he takes his last order and fills — a grave. 26 GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER S GRIP. THE BATTERED OLD GRIPS LAMENT. C. E. BAKKS. [In American Commercial Traveler.] "\7^ES, I'm an old gripsack worn out in the race; -*- A newer and brighter has taken my place ; High up ^neath the rafters contemptuously cast. Neglected, to dream of a glorious past ; No comrade to share my lone exile, ah me! 1 who have travelled by land and by sea, In my old age forsaken ^mongst cobwebs and dust, Slowly falling to pieces from disuse and rust. It is gloomy enough, I assure you, up here In this grim, dreary place and oft-times a fear That I never shall see the bright sunlight again Stirs my shrunken old sides with a wearisome pain ; I deserve something better than rust and mildew — To my trust I always was faithful and true — . And they surely could spare an old servant a nook Where life had something of cheer in its look. Oh! the pathway of life, lay it out as we may, A word or a breath may change in a day ! And, now that I'm broken by service and age, Fm tossed like a vagabond into this cage — Like a storm-beaten ship cast up on the strand — ^Tis the way of the world, and fate's cruel hand Has little of pity; our usefulness past, We are all laid aside and forgotten at last. GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER^S GRIP. 27 My master has now all the comforts of life, A neat cheerful home, a sweet loving wife, Bright, rosy-cheeked children to comfort his cheer, A bank account growing from year to year; And when the kind darkness has driven away The shadows that mock my poor semblance of day, And their concerted voices float up to my den In laughter and song, I am happy again. Sometimes, but not often, two pairs of small feet Bring two little figures my prison to greet, And two little faces make sunshine of gloom. And two merry voices make joy in the room ; And oft in their play, with frolic and shout. They toss my batter'd, worn figure about. Oh, may they ne'er suffer the heart- aches and stings The sorrows and woes which adversity brings. Thus day after day I lie here and dream, While drift the dull years down Time's sluggish stream, Calling up the dear pictures of days "on the road," When trouble and care was a feather-weight load. The engine's shrill whistle strikes sharp on my ear. The bluff, hearty greetings of " brothers," I hear; I dream and awake to my desolate lot. To feel that I was, and know I am not. 28 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUM3IER'S GRIP. Oh, ye who successfully 'counter life's ills, And mount to the summit of fortune-kissed hills. While plenty surrounds you and pleasures over- load, Eemember the weaker ones passed on the road, And if there's a brother in trouble to-day. Who neglected himself to hel|) you on your way, Help him out — who can tell but your own feet may slip — Just think of the face of the batter'd old grip. "WHEN THE CHECK IS ON THE KIESTER."' "TTTHEN the check is on the kiester and the ^ ^ price book put away. And the drummer turneth homeward at the clos- ing of the day. Then it is that dimpled fingers make odd stains upon the glass. And little eyes are peeping at the peojile as they pass. Waiting for papa's coming, and wondering why he stays, " I'm coming certain, Frfday," is what his postal says ; But "his coming certain, Friday" often means the following day. GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER^S GRIP. 29 When the check is on the kiester and the price book put away There is much of joy and promise in the coming of the day, When the kiester and the price book are forever put away. Of course he'll miss the hasheries and welcome " come agin/"^ And the diamond-shirted clerk, and the bugs that dwell therein; But there's something compensating in three square meals a day. Prepared by hands of loved ones in the good old- fashioned way. And the smile that always greets him at the clos- ing of the day. When the check is on the kiester and the price book put away. The rattle, noisy clatter of the dusty railway train. And the dirt roads and the turnpikes he'll ne'er go o'er again; Combination prices and bar of the hotel Are remembered now with pleasure for the goods they helped to sell; And the " kicker " and the grumblers are with the " chronics '- classed, 30 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER^S GRIP. And are only now remembered as vexations of the past ; And oh, his heart is joyful as the brightest sunlit day, For the check is on the kiester and the price book's pnt away. THE DRUMMER'S DREAM. A little room in a little hotel, ^^ In a little country town; On a little bed with a musty smell, A man was lying down. A great big man with a great big snore — For he lay on his back, you see — And a peaceful look on his face he wore. For sound asleep was he. In his dreams what marvellous trips he made. What heaps of stuff he sold ! And nobody failed and everybody paid. And his orders were good as gold. He smiled and smothered a scornful laugh. When his fellow-drummers blowed; For he knew no other had sold the half Of vfhat his order-book showed. GEMS FROM AJT OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 31 He got his letter from home one day : " Dear Sir — we^ve no fitter term To use in your case than simply to say : Henceforth you are one of the firm/' And a glorious change it made in his life. He now from the road withdrew; And really soon got to know his wife His son, and his daughters too. But with a thump — bang- whang — thump-bang again The "boots" had knocked at the door; " It's very near time for the 5:10 train/' And the " Drummer's Dream " was o'er. LAMENTATIONS OF THE TEA YELLING MAN. BY AK OLD DRUMMER. "^T^OU who envy the travelling man's life, -^ And fondly imagine it free from all strife, Just take out some samples for one short trip, And if not very pious, an oath you'll let slip. You arrive at the town, in the evening, quite late, " The good rooms are all taken " such is your fate. The supper is cold, and not fit to eat. And the beds, well for hardness they could not be beat. 32 GEMS FROM AN^ OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. Yon arise in the morning, quite unrefreshed, You swallow your breakfast, and then go in quest Of a merchant who lives at the end of the town. And you learn, from his house he has not yet come down. Your samples you place by the side of the door. And fondly imagine an order in store. But after long waiting he comes only to say, "There's nothing Fm needing in your line to- day." You may draw your argument down very fine, And expatiate on your " very fine line," But the magic quickly goes out of your loro When you learn a competitor's just been there before. Your customer may be a man of the kind, That by talking, and talking, and talking him blind. You may get an order, although very small. It helps pay expenses, and that's about all. Perhaps a twenty-mile ride you have had. Over roads that were hilly and terribly bad. But your courage goes up, when he invites you to call, And he'll " Probably want some goods in the fall." You go to the depot, the next train to get, ^Tis four hours late, there's no use to fret. GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 33 You take out a cigar to have a good smoke. When you feel in your ribs, the station man^s poke. "No smoking allowed here, don't you see the sign.^^ And even that comfort, there, we're forced to resign. Then out on the platform we plod on and plod. And envy the man that carries the hod. Our employers expect us to sell lots of goods. In towns that are lonely and far in the woods. We travel on freight trains, we drive in a hurry. Expenses foot up and we get in a flurry; Our samples are heavy, the charges are high. We have no redress, the money must fly. An itemized expense account they always expect. And if it runs light, they're sure its correct. Now if you merchants who sit in the store. And consider the travelling man always a bore, AVould think the situation o'er for a while. When he enters your door, he would meet with a smile. They keep you well posted, and you certainly can Buy your goods best of the travelling man. Don't send then away with a frown or a jeer. And your balance will please you at the end of the year. 34 GEMS FKOM AK OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. And you who send out the travelling men. Encourage them, if only by the scratch of a pen. They'll render good service, will work with their might, If they feel that the "House'' is treating them " white." "IN THE GLOAMING." Note.— If any of the "boys," who read this Httle book, have ever taken a trip by steamer, from Portland, Ore., to San Francisco, Cal., they will appreciate the following parody on "In the Gloaming,"" said to have been written by a daughter of Bret Harte. /^N the steamer, Oh ! my darling, ^^ When the fog horns screech and blow, And you hear the steward's foot steps Softly come and softly go. AVhen the passengers are groaning. With a nameless, unknown woe. Don't you think it better, darling, You and I should go below ? In the cabin. Oh ! my darling. Think not bitterly of me. Though I rushed away and left you. In the middle of our tea. I was seized with sudden longing To behold the deep, blue sea. It was best that I should leave, dear. Best for you, and best for me. GEMS FROM AI^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 35 THE DRUMMER. CON'TRIBUTED BY LAFE HEIDELL, Rochester, N. Y. n^HERE^S nothing like a drummer when he's ^ out upon the road, And the season's one long summer with a sun that never glowed In brighter colors in the tropics, when the world is painted red, And the pumpkins in the dew drop, and the dew drop's in his head. There is no other fellow that is such a prince as he, AVhen he's just a little "mellow'' and as " chummy " as can be. Then he tells of how old Moses took his account of stock And got hosiery written ^' hoses" when the rye was on the rock. No, there isn't any fellow that can sing a jollier song AVhen he's just a trifle " mellow " and the nights are growing long Than the drum, drum, drum, drum, drummer when he does his level best. When the moon shines on the pumpkin, and the pumpkin's way out west. 36 GEMS FROM A:N^ OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. Yet he has his serious moments, does this hardy son of toil, And he always has a fancy for the rare side of the broil, He sides with the under dog if the whelp is not a cur. And he always knows a hog, by the color of his fur. NEVER GO BACK ON A TRAVELLING MAN. BY ROBERT LOVELL. /^H, pity, kind gentlefolks, friends of human- ^ ity, Sympathy's scarce, since the world first began. And did you but know it, you ought to bestow it If ever you did, on the travelling man. You may call us all "runners,^' ^^ guerillas" or " bummers " And agents or "drummers" or what else you can; But you'll always regret it, and don't you forget it. If you ever go back on the travelling man. Right here, I make mention, 'tis not my intention To shield the wrong doing of some erring " pard." If he don't use discretion, some foolish transgres- sion Will drop his name off from the firm's business card. GEMS FROM AJ;r OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 37 No use in dissenting, he'll quit representing The house that he has so disgracefully served ; No longer the trade that he formerly made Will keep, for his coming, their orders reserved. There is no use disguising the fact, though sur- prising, That of trials and troubles the " boys " have their load; Our life would be dreary, indeed we'd get weary. Did we not have our fun while we're out on the road. There is one thing quite certain, you charge us with flirt in' With all the gay lasses we happen to meet. When even the preachers adore the dear creatures. Don't you think they'd all better be kept off the street ? Ask conductors or train men, livery or dray men. Or the two-dollar a day men, who sell us our hash, Just ask them quite plainly, on whom they count mainly. For the root of all evil, but best known as cash. And they all to a man, sir, will give you this an- swer, "We generally try to make all that we can; But of all of our patrons, the ' drummers ' are fat ones And our profits all come from the travelling man." 38 GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. In closing this ditty^ we don't crave your pity. We ask your good will which we hope ne'er to lack, Eemember us kindly, don't slander us blindly, For in sixty days more we'll be 'round on your track. To the trade, one and all, big dealers and small. And we mean what we say when we make the re- quest. If your credit's " 0. K." and you're able to pay, Eeserve us big orders — that suits us the best. THE RIVAL DRUMMERS. "TT was two rival drummers, -*- The merits they did blow Of safes were in 8t. Louis made And safes from Chicago. They chanced upon a merchant Who fain a safe would buy. And in the praise of their houses' wares The drummers twain did vie, Each striving to see which could construct The most colossal lie. Out spake the St. Louis drummer, " Once a man a cat did take, And locked the animal in a safe Of our superior make. GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 39 " They made a bonfire round the safe With tar and kerosene. And for four-and-twenty hours it blazed With raging heat, I ween. " The fire went out, the safe was cooled. And I will forfeit five Hundred good dollars if that cat Did not come out alive." Then mild upspake and answered him The Chicago safe-agent : "With our safe one day we did essay The same experiment. "We placed the safe selected on Of coals a fiery bed. And pitch pine we heaped in coal-oil steeped Till the iron glowed bright red; And in forty-eight hours we ope'd the safe And, alas ! the cat was dead ! " " Was dead ? Aha ! '' his rival cried. With a triumphant breath; But the Chicago man replied : "Yes; the cat was frozen to death!" No word that St. Louis drummer spoke. But silent stood and wan, While the Kansas merchant an order gave To the Chicago man. 40 GEMS FEOM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. DER DRUMMER. \ \7H0 puts oup at der pest hotel, ^ ^ Und dakes his oysders on der schell, Und in it der frauleins cuts a schwell ? Der drummer. Who vash it gomes indo mine schtore, Drows down his pundles on der vloor, Und nefer schtops to shut der door ? Der drummer Who dakes me py der handt und say : " Hans Pf eiif er, how you vas to-day ? " Und goes for peesness rightdt avay? Der drummer. Who shpreads his zamples in a trice, Und dells me " look, und see how nice ? " Und says I gets '^ der bottom price ? " Der drummer. Who says der tings vas eggstra vine — " Vrom Sharmany, ubon der Rhine " — Und sheats me den times oudt of nine ? Der drummer. Who dells how sheap der goots vas bought, Mooch less as vot I gould imbort. But lets dem go, as he vas " short ? " Der drummer. GEMS FROM AI^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 41 Who varrants all der goots to suit Der gustomers ubon his route. And ven dey gomes dey vas no goot ? Der drummer. Who gomes arount ven I been oudt. Drinks oup mine bier, und eats mine kraut, Und kiss Katrina in der mout ? Der drummer. Who, ven he gomes again dis vay, Vill hear vot Pfeiffer has to say, Und mit a plack eye goes avay ? Der drummer. THE TOAST. /~^OULD I sip of the nectar, the gods only can, ^^ I would fill up the glass to the brim. And drink success to the " travelling man " And the house represented by him. And could I but tincture the glorious draught With his smiles, as I drink to him then. With the laughs he has laughed, and the jokes he has told, I would till up the goblet again. 42 GEMS FROM AIT OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. I would drink to the sweetheart that bade him good-bye With a tenderness thrilling in bliss; Ah, he thinks of her now, as his heart heaves a sigh, Eemembering the sweets of the kiss. To the purest of hearts and fairest of hands I would drink with my hopes and my prayers For the one she must trust, is a "travelling man " Who will share all her joy and her cares. I would drink to the wife with the babe at her knee, AYho awaits his return, bye and bye Who opens his letters so tremulously. And reads while the tears fill her eye. I would quaff to the feeble old mother Who sits by the fireside alone. And murmurs and weeps, o'er the stocking she knits While she thinks of her wandering son. I would drink long life and health to the friend AVho greets him with many a cheer. To the generous hand the stranger extends To the sojourner wandering here. GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 43 And when he quits this earthly abode. And has paid the last fare that he can, Mine Host of the Inn at the end of the road, Will welcome the ^''travelling man." G. A. R. GEMS. [Several Drummers, who are also members of the G. A. R., have requested that I include in tliis little volume a few selections which they have heard me give at their camp fires, and in compliance with such request I have added the following war poems and miscellane- ous pieces, which I hope will touch a tender chord in the hearts of the brave old boys.— N. R. S.] THE BLACKSMITH'S STORY. FRANK OLIVE. "TTT^ELL, no ! my wife ain't dead, sir, but I lost ^ ^ her just the same. She left me voluntarily, and neither was to blame. It's rather a queer story, but I think that you'll a^ree. When you've heard the circumstances, it was rather rough on me. She was a soldier's widow, he was killed at Mal- vern Hill, And after I had married her, she seemed to sorrow for him still. But I brought her here to Kansas, and I never want to see A better wife than Mary was for five bright years to me. GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 45 A change of scene brought cheerfulness, and soon arose a glow Of happiness, warmed Mary's cheeks and melted all their snow. And I think she loved me some, that I'm bound to think, sir; And as for me, I can't begin to tell how much I loved her. Three years ago the baby came, our humble home to bless. And then I reckon I was nigh to perfect happi- ness. 'Twas hers, 'twas mine, but I can't explain to you How that little girl's weak fingers our hearts to- gether drew. Once we watched it through a fever, and with each gasping breath Dumb with an awful, nameless woe, we waited for its death. And though I'm not a pious man, our hearts to- gether there For Heaven to spare our darling one, went up in voiceless prayer. And when the doctor said 'twould live what words our joy could tell. Clasped in each other's arms, our grateful tears together fell. So you see the shadows sometimes fell across our little nest, 46 GEMS PKOM AK OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. But it only made the sunshine seem a doubly welcome guest. Work came to me a plenty, and I kept the anvil ringing, Early and late, you^l find me there a humming and a singing. Love moved my arm to labor, and moved my tongue to song, And though my singing wasn^t sweet, it was tremendous strong. One day a one-armed stranger stopped to have me nail a shoe. And while at work for him we passed a compli- ment or two. I asked him how he lost his arm, he said 'twas shot away At Malvern Hill. At Malvern Hill! did you knoAV Robert May ? That's me. You ! You ! I cried, choking with hor- rid doubt, H you're tlie man just follow me, Ave'll try this mystery out. With dizzy steps I led him in to Mary. God! 'twas true. Then the bitterest pangs of misery, unspeakable I knew. Frozen with deadly horror she stared with eyes of stone And from her quivering lips there broke one wild despairing moan. 'gems from AN" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 47 ^Twas he, the husband of her youth, now risen from tlie dead, But all too late, and with a cry her shattered senses fled. What could be done ? He was reported dead. On his return He strove in vain some tidings of his absent wife to learn. ^Twas well that he was innocent, else Vd have killed him, too. So dead he never would have riz ^till Gabriel's trumpet blew. It was agreed then that Mary between us should decide. And each by her decision would sacredly abide. No sinner at the judgment seat waiting eternal doom Could suffer what I did, waiting sentence in that room. Eigid and breathless there we stood, with nerves as tense as steel, While Mary's eyes sought each face in piteous ap- peal. God, could not a woman's duty be less hardly rec- onciled Between her lawful husband and the father of her child ? But how my heart was chilled to ice, when Mary knelt and said. 48 GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. '•'Forg've me, John, he is my husband, here alive, not dead." I raised her up tenderly, and tried to tell her she was right. But somehow in my aching heart the prisoned words stuck tight. " But, John, I can't leave baby." What wife and child, cried I, Must I yield all. Ah! cruel fate, better that I should die. Think of the long, sad, lonely hours, waiting in gloom for me, No wife to cheer me with her love, no babe to climb my knee. And yet you are her mother, and the sacred mother love Is still the purest, tenderest tie that Heaven ever wove. Take her, but promise, Mary, for that will bring no shame, My little girl shall bear, and learn to lisp her father's name. It may be in the life to come, I'll meet my child and wife. But yonder at that cottage gate, we parted for this life. One long hand-clasp from Mary, and my dream of love was done, One long embrace from baby, and my happiness was gone. GEMS FROM AK OLD I)KU3IMER's GRIP. 49 BILL BROWN, FROM COHOES. JOSEPH DE BARTHE. "X^ES, stranger, Fm bu'sted. The circus went up, An' I^m trampin' back home. Will I what— take a sup ? Well, IM smile ! You're a stunner ! From— thun- der ! Cohoes ? Why, shake. You might know that I wouldn't refuse. From Cohoes I Well, I'm stabbed ! An' you know Billy Brown An' the rest of the fellows that hail from that town ? Yes, Bill Brown, my old pardner; a mighty fine lad! What, bu'sted agin ? Well, I swow, that's too bad. He wasn't no cherub, was William, but then He was always a royal good man among men. He was quick with his hands an' hasty in speech. Was lightnin' in kickin' an' long in his reach. But down far beneath the old jumper he wore Beat a heart that was honest an' true to the core! An' I'll never forget— my regards. Ah ! that cup Seems to warm my old heart. I don't mind fill 'em up! 50 GEMS FROM AI>^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. It was out in Ohio. The war had just closed, An* a good many men as was brothers with those AVho pulled down the old flag to set up the new, An' who fought in the gray 'gainst the others in blue. Had turned their eyes West, an' were ploddin' their way Wherever God's mercy allowed them to stay. It's not that I'm down on Ohio at all I'm tellin' this story. I want to recall How one soldier who fought for the cause that was won Stood up like a man for a perishing son Of the cause that was lost. How I lov'd his good will! I worshipped him then, an' I worship him still. But, on with the story. It happened this wise : One day in the habit he couldn't disguise There came to a town in Ohio a man Who had wasted his strength in the war that began With the storming of Sum^ter. Hungry an' poor. He asked for a crust at a wealthy man's door. An' told them his story. Then up went the cry ! " He ought to be lynched ! " and a crowd gathered An' into that crowd like a bullet there shot A form that the rebel has never forgot; An' he gazed for a moment about him, an' then GEMS FROM AJ^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 51 Cried out in a ringin' voice: '^Sliame on ye, men! Would you harm a poor devil because he went wrong ? " An' a broad-shouldered teamster who stood in the throng Yelled forth : " He's a rebel, an' fought 'gainst the flag; Pulled down the barr'd banner an' raised up a rag ! " Bill halted him then, an', said he with a frown : " That's a thing of the past, for the war's been put down ! " But the crowd were all mad an' wouldn't keej) still. An' they swore they would tear the blue clothes off of Bill If he didn't move on, or ventured to speak Again in defence of a low Southern sneak. That's all as was needed to stir up Bill Brown! ril bet if an earthquake had scooped in the town It wouldn't have scattered them anywhere near As much as Bill's fisticuffs filled them with fear: For, you see, tlie blue suit they had threaten'd to tear Was the very one Bill had fought in " down there ; " An' he did up that gang in a real han'some way — As easy as lightnin', as if 'twas but play. Then he put out his hand and he said : " Come with me." 52 GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. An' we went. For Hwas I was the reb — do you see ? An' lie thinks I'm older an' blinder, you say ? An' youWe laughin'! Great caravan! Gol durn my shoes. If it isn't — yes, bless me — Bill Brown — from Cohoes ! THE VETERAN AND HIS GRANDSON. BY J. W. CRAWFORD (CAPT. JACK). Dedicated to Corporal James Tanner. "T TOLD on! Hold on! My goodness! You take -^ — "- my breath, my son, A firin' questions 't me like shots from a Gatlin gun. Why do I wear this eagle an' flag an' brazen star ? An' why do my old eyes glisten when somebody mentions war ? An' why do I call men " Comrade ? " an' why do my eyes grow bright When you hear me tell your gran'ma I'm goin' to Post to-night ? Come here, you inquisitive rascal, and set on your grandpa's knee. An' I'll try to answer the broadsides you've been a-firin' at me. GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMEK's GRIP. 53 Away back in the sixties, and along afore you were born, The news came a-flashin' to us one bright and sunny morn, That some of our Southern brothers, a-thinkin^ no doubt ^twar right, Had trailed their guns on our banner, an' opened a nasty fight. The great big guns war a boomin', an' the shot flyin' thick and fast. And troops all over the Southland war rapidly bein' massed : An' a thrill went through the nation — a fear that our glorious land Might be split an' divided an' ruined by mistaken brothers' hand. Lord, but wan't there excitement, an' didn't the boys' eyes flash ? An' didn't we curse our brothers for bein' so foolish an' rash ? An' didn't we raise the neighbors with loud and continued cheers When Abe sent out a dockyment a-callin' for vol- unteers ? An' didn't we flock to the colors when the drums began to beat. An' didn't we march with proud steps along the village street ? 54 GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. An' didn't the peoi:)le cheer us when we got aboard the cars With the flag a-wavin' o'er us, and went away to the wars ? I'll never forget your gran'ma as she stood out- side o' the train. Her face as white as a snowdrift, her tears a-fallin' like rain. She stood there quiet and doath-like, 'mid all o' the rusli and noise, For the war war a-takin' from her, her husband and three brave boys — Bill, Charley, and little Tommy — just turned eighteen, but as true An' gallant a little soldier as ever wore the bine. It seemed almost like murder for to tear her poor heart so. But your gran'dad couldn't st y, b-.by, an' the boys war determined to go. The evenin' afore we started she called the boys to her side. An' told 'em as how they war always their mother's joy and pride. An' though her soul was in torture, an' her poor heart bleedin' an' sore. An' though she needed her darlings, their country needed 'em more. GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 55 She told 'em to do their duty wharever their feet might roam. An'' to never forgit in battle their mother was prayin^ at home; An' if (an' the tears near choked her) they should fall in front o' the foe, She'd go to the blessed Saviour and ax him to lighten the blow. Bill lays an' awaits the summons 'neath Spottsyl- vania's sod. An' on the field of Antietam Charlie's spirit went back to God; An' Tommy, our baby Tommy, we buried one star- lit night Along with his fallen comrades just after the Wilderness fight. The lightning struck our family tree, and stripped it of every limb, A-leavin' only this bare old trunk a-standin' alone and grim. My boy, that's why your grandma, when you kneel to the God you love. Makes you ax Him to watch your uncles an' make 'em happy above. That's why you sometimes see her with tear-drop in her eyes, That's why you sometimes catch her a tryin' to hide her sighs; 56 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. That's why at our great reunions^ she looks so solemn an' sad; That's why her heart seems a-breakin' when the boys are jolly and glad; That's why you sometimes find her in the bed- room overhead, Down on her knees a-prayin', with their pictures laid out on the bed ; That's why the old-time brightness will light up her face no more, Till she meets her hero Avarriors in the camp on the other shore. An' when the great war was over, back came the veterans true, At'ith not one star a-missin' from the azure field of blue; An' the boys, who on the field o' battle had stood the fiery test. Formed Posts o' the great Grand Army in the North, South, East, and the West. Fraternity, Charity, Loyalty, is the motto 'neath which they train — Their object to care for the helpless an' banish sorrow an' pain From the homes of the widows an' orphans o' the boys who have gone before, To answer their names at roll call in the great Grand Army Corps. GEMS FEOM AN^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 57 An' that's why we wear these badges, the eagle an' the flag an' star, TForn only by veteran heroes who fought in that bloody war. An' that's why my old eyes glisten while talkin' about the fray. An' that's why I call men " Comrade " when I meet 'em every day; An' that's why I tell your grandma " I'm going to Post to-night." For there's where I meet the old boys who stood with me in the fight. An', my child, that's why I've taught you to love and revere the men Who come here a wearin' badges, to fight those battles again. They are the gallant heroes who stood 'mid shot and shell. An' followed the flying colors right into the mouth o' hell. They are the men whose valor saved the land from disgrace and shame, An' lifted her back in triumph to her perch on the dome o' fame; An' as long as you live, my darling, till your pale lips in death are mute. When you see that badge on a bosom take off your hat and salute ; An' if any old veteran should halt you an' ques- tion you why you do. Just tell him you've got a right to, for your grand- dad's a Comrade, too. SERGEANT JOHN CAETEE AND SON. SHERMAK D. RICHARDSOI^. "YTTELL, Billy, our march is nigh ended; ^ ' AVhen we reach the top of yon hill We can see the old home in the valley. Where it stands beside the stone mill. It is years since we left it, my Billy, To march with the comrades of blue. Shall we find all the loved ones awaiting That bade us that morning adieu ? The moon shines down through the maples As the sun shone down that day, And the village bell rings as cheerily As it chimed when we marched aAvay. You then were a stripling, my Billy, And I in the strength of my prime; The prison pen made me an old man, And my raven locks gray ere their time. Three years since from home we've had tidings. The letter came to us that day When we charged by the bridge at Manassas And they captured our line for pay. Three years of sad lonely watching In the hands of a terrible fate; But in the old home in the valley 'Twas a longer time, Billy, to wait. Ah! here is the churchyard, Billy; But it seems to have larger grown. And see in our own lot yonder. Rises a gleaming white stone. Can it be — let me lean on you — Billy, Alas ! that our coming is late. Shall we find the loved ones in the churchyard. That we left at the old garden gate ? Two mounds heave the sod close together — Alas ! death spared us not one — The graves of the mother and daughter Are the welcome of father and son. Let me kneel on the sod here, Billy, And trace out the message of grief. The rose and the lily together Have been bound in the reaper's sheaf. This is sacred to the memory of — what's the meaning, Sergeant John Carter and Son, 60 GEMS FROM AIS" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. AYho were killed in the month of July, 'CA, at the fight of Bnll Pain. Good Heavens, why that's us, Billy, Dead and buried three years to-day, With an epitaph fit for a general. How we fell in the heat of the fray. Three cheers for yon light in the valley And the friends we shall meet at the gate. Sister and mother, daughter and — Billy, Perhaps my coming is late. The weeds may have faded to garlands. And sorrow supplanted by love. You go alone, boy, to the valley, I'll stay in the churchyard above. If my wife awaits in the cottage Come back ere the moon goes down, And the words shall be changed on the tablet And flowers crown over each mound. If not— then good-by, and God bless you. Unchanged let the tablet remain, 'Tis best I shall be remembered As I marched that day down the lane. The monument stands for the heroes Who rest unknown far from home. But the tablet is changed, a message came to him Ere the moon left the star-spangled dome. For the love of woman is true and forever And the love of man is strong in its might. Sunshine and shadow, gladness and sorrow, Gleaming tints from the past to-day and to- morrow Weave ever a rainbow of light. OUE FOLKS. [Note. — The following beautiful and touching lines were taken from the knapsack of a Union soldier, who was found dead, upon the battle-field of Hatcher's Run, Va., in Nov., 1864. The original manu- script, torn and defaced, was presented to Major Barton by Colonel Edward Hill, of the Sixteenth Michigan Infantry. The author is un- known.] Tiri! Harry! Hallie! Halt, and tell -■ — ^ A soldier just a thing or two; You've had a furlough ! been to see How all the folks in Jersey do ; — It's a year agone since I was there, I, and the bullet from Fair Oaks. Since you've been home, old comrade, true. Say, did you see any of " our folks ? " You did ? Shake hands ! Oh, ain't I glad ! For if I do look grim and rough, I've got some feeling. People think A soldier's heart is mighty tough! But, Harry, when the bullets fly. Q2 GEMS FROM AK" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. And hot saltpetre flames and smokes. And whole battalions lie a-field, One^s apt to think about his folks. And so you saw them ! When and where ? The old man ! Is he lively yet? And mother — does she fade at all, Or does she seem to pine and fret foi me ? And little '' sis/' has she grown tall ? And then, you know, her friend, that Annie Ross — How this pipe chokes: — Come, Hal, and tell me, like a man. All the news about our folks. You saw them at the church, you say; It's likely; for they're always there On Sunday. What! No! A funeral! Who ? Why, Harry, how you halt and stare ! And all were well, and all were out ? Come, surely, this can't be a hoax ! Why don't you tell me, like a man, What is the matter with our folks ? " "I said all well, old comrade dear; I say all well! for He knows best. Who takes His young lambs in His arms Before the sun sinks in the west. The soldier's stroke deals left and right. But flowers fall as well as oaks — And so, fair Annie blooms no more : And that's the matter with ' your folks.' GEMS FROM AI^" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 63 Here^s this long curl, ^twas sent to you. And this fair blossom, from her breast. And here — your sister Bessie wrote This letter telling all the rest." Bear up, old friend, nobody speaks Only the dull camp raven croaks And soldiers whisper, " Boys, be still ! There^s some bad news from Granger's folks ! " He turned his back upon his grief And sadly tried to hide the tears Kind nature sends to woe's relief. Then answered, "Ah, well! Hal, I'll try; But in my throat there's something chokes Because, you see, I'd thought so long To count her in among our folks. All may be well; but yet, I can't help thinking, too, I might have kept this trouble off By being gentle, kind and true! But maybe not. She's safe up there ; And when His hand deals other strokes She'll stand at Heaven's gate, I know. To wait and welcome ^ our folks.' 04 GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER S GRIP. BANTY TIM. JOHN HAY. [Remarks of Sergeant Tilmon Joy to the white man's committee of Spunky Point, Illinois.] T RECKON I gifc your drift, gents— -^ You low the boy shan't stay; This is a white man's country; You're Dimocrats, you say; And whereas, and seein', and wherefore, The times bein' all out o' j'int. The nigger has got to mosey From the limits o' Spunky P'int ! Le's reason the thing a minute ; I'm an old-fashioned Dimocrat too. Though I laid my politics out o' the way For to keep till the war was through. But I come back here, alio win' To vote as I used to do. Though it gravels me like the devil to train Along o' sich fools as you. Now dog my cats ef I kin see. In all the light of the day. What you've got to do with the question Ef Tim shall go or stay. GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 65 And furder than that I give notice, Ef one of you tetches the boy, He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime Than he'll find in Illanoy. Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me ! You know that ungodly day When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how ripped And torn and tattered we lay. When the rest retreated I staid behind, Fur reasons sufficient to me — With a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike, I sprawled on that cursed glacee. Lord ! how the hot sun went for us. And br'iled and blistered and burned; How the rebel bullets whizzed round us When a cuss in his death-grip turned ! Till along toward dusk I seen a thing I couldn^t believe for a spell : That nigger — that Tim — was a-crawlin' to me Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged hell! The rebels seen him as quick as me. And the bullets buzzed like bees; But he jumped for me, and shouldered me, Though a shot brought him once to his knees; 66 GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER^S GRIP. But he staggered up, and packed me off. With a dozen stumbles and falls, Till safe in our lines he drapped us both, His black hide riddled with balls. So, my gentle gazelles, thar's my answer. And here stays Banty Tim: He trumped Death's ace for me that day. And I'm not goin' back on him ! You may rezoloot till the cows come home. But ef one of you tetches the boy, He'll wrastle his hash to-night in hell, Or my name's not Tilmon Joy! THE OLD TOOLS IN A FEAME. (From the Groton and Lansing Journal.) [N. R. Streeter, tlie "Jolly Old Drummer," was formerly a shoe- maker. He worked at the business about twenty years, the greater part of the time he filled a position known as a custom foreman (a trade which has become obsolete). Mr. Streeter has always kept his old pinchers and hammer, also His size stick. He recently sent them to New York and had them gilded with 22 karat gold, and set upon a blue silk plush back in a gilded frame, and he wrote the following lines and glued them to the back of the frame.] HERE are all that remains of my faithful old kit. For long years ago shoemaking I quit. My sticks are all gone, either misplaced or lost. Like a hand-full of pegs in a hurricane tossed. GEMS FROM A:N' OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 67 This trio, I've kept, refusing to lend. (Though I seldom was known to go back on a friend.) A place in my parlor they now shall enjoy. And when I am gone, they'll belong to my boy. As I gaze on these faithful old relies and think, An apprentice again, I stand on the brink Of life's speeding river, a " cub " once again. Hear the tap of the hammers, the jokes of the men. But alas ! In the factories the shoes now are made. And few there remain of an obsolete trade. The men in the factories all work ih teams. And few even know what the fuddle stick means. To the gray-headed craftsmen, this seems very queer (As they think of the times when they fuddled for beer). But, though babies were born with shoes on their feet. We old Crispins will never get round on the seat. And though fortune smiles and luck with me lingers, I'll despise not the days, when I'd wax on my fingers. And whene'er an old " shoey " I meet on time's shore, I'll greet him as shopmate, the same as of yore. 68 GEMS FKOM AK OLD DRUMMEK'S GRIP. THE OLD MAN AND JIM. BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. /^LD Man never had much to say, ^^ 'Ceptin to Jim — And Jim was the wildest boy he had — And the Old Man jes' wrapped up in him! Never heerd him speak but once Er twice in my life — and first time was When the war broke out, and Jim he went, The Old Man backin^ him fer three months, And all 'at I heerd the Old Man say Was, jes' as we turned to start away — " Well, good-bye, Jim ; Take keer of yourse'f ? " Teared like he was more satisfied Jes' lookin' at Jim, And likin' him all to hisself-like, see ? ^Cause he was jes' wrapped up in him! And over and over I mind the day The Old Man come and stood round in the way AVhile we was drilling', a-watchin' Jim — And down at the deepot a-heerin' him say — "Well, good-bye, Jim; Take keer of yourse'f! " GEMS FROM Alsf OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 69 Never was nothin' about the farm Distinguished Jim; Neighbors all ust to wonder why The Old Man 'peared wrapped up in him ! But when Cap. Biggler, he writ back 'At Jim was the bravest boy he had In the whole dern regiment, white er black. And his fightin' good as his farmin' bad— 'At he had led, with a bullet clean Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen. The Old Man wound up a letter to him 'At Cap read to us, 'at said,— "Tell Jim Good-bye; And take keer of hisse'f." Jim come back jes' long enough To take the whim 'At he'd like to go back in calvery— And the Old Man jes' wrapped up in him!— Jim 'lowed 'at he'd had sich luck afore. Guessed he'd tackle her three years more And the Old Man gave him a colt he'd raised And followed him over to Camp Ben Wade, And laid around for a week or so, Watchin' Jim on dress parade — Tell finally he rid way. And last he heard was the Old Man say, "Well, good-by, Jim; Take keer of yourse'f ! " 70 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. Tuk the papers, the Old Man did, A-watchin' for Jim — Fully believin^ he'd make his mark Some way — jes' wrapped up in him ! And many a time the word 'ud come 'At stirred him up like the tap of a drum — At Petersburg, for instance, where Jim rid right into their cannons there, And tuk 'em, and p'inted 'em t'other way And socked it home to the boys in gray. As they skooted fer timber, and on and on Jim a lieutenant and one arm gone. And the Old Man's words in his mind all day ! " Well, good-bye, Jim ; Take care of yourse'f!" Think of a private, now, perhaps. We'll say like Jim, 'At's dumb clean up to the shoulder straps — And the Old Man jes' wrapped up in him! Think of him — with the war plum' through, And the glorious old Red-White-and-Blue A laughin' the news down over Jim And the Old Man, ben din' over him — The surgeon turnin' away with tears 'At hadn't leaked fer years and years — As the hand of the dying boy clung to His father's, the old voice in his ears! " Well, good-bye, Jim : Take keer of yourse'f ! " GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 71 PADDY^S EXCELSIOR. 'rpWAS growing dark so terrible fasht, Whin through a town up the mountain there pashed A broth of a boy, to his neck in the shnow; As he walked, his shillelah he swung to and fro. Saying: "It's up to the top I'm bound for to go. Be jabbers ! " He looked mortal sad, and his eye was as bright As a fire of turf on a cowld winther night; And niver a word that he said could ye tell As he opened his mouth and let out a yell, " It's up till the top of the mountain I'll go, OnUss covered up wid this bodthersome shnow. Be jabbers ! " Trough the windows he saw, as he thraveled along. The light of the candles, and fires so warm. But a big chunk of ice hung over his head; Wid a shnivel and groan, "By St. Patrik!'' he said, " It's up to the very tip-top I will rush, And then if it falls, it's not meself it '11 crush. Be jabbers ! " 72 GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRir. '^ Whisht a bit," said an owld man, whose head was as white As the shnow that fell down on that miserable night; " Shure, y'e'll fall in the wather, me bit of a lad, Fur the night is so dark and the walkin' is bad." Bedad ! he'd not lisht to a word that was said But he'd go till the top, if he went on his head. Be jabbers ! A bright, buxom young girl, such as likes to be kissed. Axed him wouldn't he stop, and how cotild he resist ? So, shnapping his fingers and winking his eye, While shmiling upon her, he made this reply — " Faith, I meant to kape on till I got to the top. But, as yer shwate self has axed me, I may as well shtop Be jabbers ! " He shtopped all night and he shtopped all day, — And ye musn't be axing whin he did go away; Fur wouldn't he be a bastely gossoon To be laving his darlint in the swate honey-moon ? Whin the owld man has peraties enough, and to spare, Shure he moight as well shtay if he's comfortable there. Be jabbers ! i^' vf ^^4^- •g* *V ^^^^^^^^ m^^^^.